#like make no mistake the word count is not a factor that reflects my actual passion towards the piece of media

[trans-clown-catgirl]

hey cookie run fans i wrote White Lily/Dark Enchantress yuri go look at it it's good i prommy

(i also prommy it's fully SFW don't worry abt that part lol)

[sodone-withlife]

icarus fell, and blood stained the ground

i'm back!! (but not really—the new school year literally starts in an hour and it will be back to my pathological dependence on academic validation. at least i can say i've technically published another fic before summer break ends)

anyway, here's the fic in response to part 1 of sumayyah's post. i published a companion poem for this some time ago. as per usual, i gave up on proofreading so hopefully any mistakes don't detract from the story. also, i hope the formatting and jumping back and forth between italics makes sense—let me know if it doesn't, though it might be easier to read on ao3 (it should go up on there by 4pm PST because school)

warnings: murder, major character death (may potentially be classified as suicide-by-proxy, depending on your interpretation), guns, canon typical violence, slight gore at the end, mentioned substances

word count: 1.9k words

The damned man thought of everything, Jessica thought as she scowled at the damned folder that sat innocuously on the large mahogany desk.

The desk that would soon be cleared, all traces of the previous owner gone.

She lifted a shaky hand and brushed it through her hair, shuddering at its greasy and unkempt state that hinted at the state she had been in recently. Weary to the bone, she forced herself to sit back up and grab her phone, dialing the number that was written on the sticky note placed on the inside cover of the folder. It didn’t surprise her to hear an unfamiliar female voice answer the phone with a “Ms. Brooks?”

He had thought of everything, after all.

Really, the only thing she was surprised at was the sheer extent of his connections—but thinking back to her phone calls with Haley back when he was still practicing law, the talks about extravagant offers from top corporations and firms, she really wasn’t surprised. Thus, it made sense that her call to the top law firm in the state would be answered within two dial tones and by someone who already knew who she was.

And within minutes of talking with the woman who introduced herself as Ms. Stevens, Jessica became even more aware of just how prepared her brother-in-law had been before he walked to his dea—

Not an in-law anymore—her brother. He had long since earned that designation, that spot in her broken family, no matter how much self-flagellation he put himself through in regards to her sister’s murder and no matter how much abuse her father hurled at him in the years before the man who once viewed him as a son succumbed to dementia.

Hours later, despite having already reached her limit twenty minutes into the call, she finally hung up the phone with only funeral arrangements as an immediate concern. Slowly, she stood up from the chair and mechanically made her way into the tiny bathroom that had once been a familiar sight, when her nephew was still a child—

She forced her mind away from that minefield; she wasn’t willing to spend another sleepless night thinking about what had gone down in the past month, what had happened a week ago in that apartment, what her nephew was doing and thinking in the cell that only seemed to become colder and crueler the more she thought about it.

How many prisons had he visited? How many interrogation rooms, holding cells, general population cells, max security cells, death row cells? Did he ever get used to it? Could he allow himself to get used to it, to forget that these people are also human no matter the crimes they’ve committed?

A careful hand fell onto Jessica’s shoulder, and she shuddered under the warmth that seeped into her body, a warmth that had been lacking from her life for a long time now. She turned to see Morgan staring back at her, concerned.

“You didn’t pick up your phone,” he explained neutrally, flicking his eyes towards her phone—and sure enough, there were ten missed calls, each from a member of the team. She looked back up but avoided his concerned gaze only to latch onto her reflection in the mirror and internally winced at her haggard appearance.

“Did you—“ she coughed, clearing her throat, “have you figured out what happened?” Morgan’s unspoken question about her well-being went unanswered, and she continued to avoid looking at him.

She watched the man shake his head through the mirror, unsurprised and once again cursing her brother for his incessant habit of playing his cards close to his chest, especially when it came to personal issues.

How else is—was—he one of the best at poker in the bureau, often even beating Reid?

“He hasn’t talked, either,” Morgan informed her quietly, saving her the pain of asking the question herself. “Forensics is still struggling to put together a cohesive picture. To be honest, I doubt we’ll ever find out what actually happened in that apartment.” He shook his head, frustrated at the man he considered his brother.

If either of them bothered to ask, they would have found that both were truthfully unsurprised at this outcome, given what they only recently learned about the factors and circumstances that led to it. The few established facts about this case in addition to speculation based on systematically organized notes left in an even more meticulously organized folder painted a clear enough picture of the events preceding the fall.

But it wasn’t really an accidental, flailing fall.

In all truthfulness, he didn’t fight it.

Icarus let himself fall to his death in an attempt to compensate for his hubris, to suffer the consequences of his mistakes, and it was both a cowardly attempt to escape the hellish burns caused by the boiling, melting wax and a selfless attempt to teach posterity to avoid ending up like him.

Jessica remembered the warmth of Morgan’s embrace when he ignored all protocol and took it upon himself to inform her of what had transpired in the past two months, regardless of the still-ongoing investigation. It didn’t do much to soothe the cold that had threatened to swallow her whole as she listened to the details in silent horror.

He had sat her down in her apartment, the one she had taken care of her ailing father in before he finally died and the one she couldn’t bear to move out of for all of the memories that had been formed inside—with her father on his good days, with her brother, with her nephew

“A week ago, we were invited by MPD to consult on a series of killings that happened over the course of a month. We had an eye on the situation since the second murder, and there were two more victims in the span of a week before we were finally called in,” he began quietly.

He had suspicions as to what was happening by the time the team was invited in on the case at the personal request of the MPD chief. It certainly wasn’t the first time he had come across this profile before, but there were simply too many puzzle pieces with matching edges for the connections to be brushed off as a coincidence.

“Based on the rate at which bodies were popping up, we anticipated another one within two days of us being called in, but the killer had gone suspiciously silent. We went through crime scenes, forensic reports, and things weren’t adding up.”

"It’s a local case and we’ve coordinated with MPD multiple times, they know the drill. I’d like to take a personal look as well, the brass has been all up in my business about this case given its proximity to the Hill."

That’s what he said to the team regarding him suddenly taking the initiative to go to the crime scenes despite his responsibilities—it had been a while since he last went out to crime scenes, often taking care of the office politics and coordinating the investigation back at whatever precinct or office the team had taken over.

“There were odd inconsistencies, missing pieces of evidence… There was evidence to show that the killer was an amateur, but ultimately the profile we ended up building was nowhere near as detailed as we hoped it could be—but it ultimately went a long way in helping us figure out what was really happening.”

Old case files going missing from his home office, growing interest in his job, sudden mood swings happening long after the worst of puberty, increased isolation, dropping grades…

Absentee fathers of Georgetown students being stabbed and shot to death as if the killer was unsure about what to do, an innocuous Jack-in-the-Box takeout bag sitting near the last three bodies…

Numerous signs, and yet it was the outwardly irrelevant piece of trash, perhaps a sign of the killer’s gluttony—a sick joke that only he could have recognized—that led him to put all of the horrifying pieces together. It’s been over a decade, and yet the memories of that damned day remained as clear as ever, dogging his every footstep. Nightmares in which the worst happens still often visit him in his sleep, sometimes even combined with the effects of Peter Lewis’s drug concoction, effects lingering even after all these years.

“Somehow, we completely missed the fact that he fit the victimology. Maybe it was because of his efforts to distract us… If we had put it together earlier we might have been able to figure it out much earlier, and maybe everything could have turned out differently.”

Only after intensive counseling and careful editing of his case reports was he allowed to continue in the bureau after Lewis and his targeted attacks, and yet he knew he was still being watched. It was with that thought in mind that he made a decision on how to handle the situation. Either way, his life would be irrevocably changed, and there would be casualties alongside him.

All he had to do was figure out how to minimize them.

“He never came in that morning; Reid was the first to notice the lights off in the office. We were headed towards his apartment complex as soon as we saw a cleared-out office with a retirement letter being the only thing left on the desk. All of the pictures, trinkets, law books, messy stacks of paperwork—gone.”

A retirement letter for formality's sake, one copy emailed directly to the director and one printed on his desk, to simplify some things for the bureau and to ensure that Jessica and his son get his pension should the worst happen. All of his decisions, meticulously recorded and justified, except for this last one to protect the team from the consequences of his choice. All of his notes, all of the claimed evidence, carefully stored in the file box he left next to the retirement letter back in the office. Favors accumulated since law school called in, contacts throughout the local justice system ready to step in and deal with the fallout.

All of this, an attempt to compensate for the mistakes he’s made over the years and his hubris, to protect the remnants of his family and the team.

Morgan couldn’t finish telling Jessica what had happened, voice somehow caught in his throat and refusing to cooperate. He simply shook his head, and she folded in on herself, the weight of the last week too much for her to hold up. Slowly, he pulled her into a hug, rubbing her back but not doing much more to soothe her.

This is a wound that wouldn’t ever heal.

The story ends like this:

Icarus burned, and Aaron Hotchner said nothing as the hand that held the gun against his temple shook with uncertainty. Everything he wanted to say was written—one might call him a coward, but writing had always been so much easier for him—and he knew that he would be the final casualty, that the killings would stop after tonight.

Icarus fell, and Aaron Hotchner was flung sideways, the unyielding bullet from his gun fired by his own son shredding the brain that thought had of everything but the emotional and psychological effects his final decision would have on his family and friends.

Daedalus grieved over his son’s crumpled form, and Jack Hotchner would be found with his father’s dead body in his shaking arms as he stared blankly at sights unseen to the team, who had come hours too late.

Blood stained the ground, seeping into the cracks and crevices of grasping fingers, and nothing would ever be the same.

[leejungchans]

— unexpected.

🆕 ask juliet anything!! | juliet’s masterlist

word count: 2.1k

warning(s): mentions of self-doubt, insecurities and intrusive thoughts; someone says some pretty harsh words to juliet here but nothing extreme

disclaimer: please keep in mind that the trainer mentioned in this is a completely fictional character hence why his name is never mentioned!!

set in june 2019; a few days after ateez’s first win for wave

summary: in which the boys help juliet when she gets a message from someone who she never expected, nor wants, to see again.

a/n: putting juliet in a bit of Pain™️ here 😔 as always, you are always welcome to leave feedback or chat with me!! 💕💕

As Seonghwa clears away the dishes after dinner, he notices Juliet curled up on the sofa with her phone in hand. Normally, he wouldn’t think much of it, given the other members are doing the same as they lounge around the living room. But one look at the maknae’s grave expression tells him that something is wrong.

Jongho, who’s been helping Seonghwa take the plates into the kitchen, catches him staring and follows his gaze. The two silently watch as Juliet types something on her phone before furiously tapping on the screen to delete whatever she wrote with a frustrated sigh, her long acrylic nails creating a crisp tapping noise. This draws the attention of the other six boys as they all turn to look at her with concern, though she doesn’t seem to notice from being so focused on her phone.

“Minyoungie, is everything okay?” Hongjoong finally asks, sitting up from his spot on the ground.

“Hm? Oh, yeah. I’m fine, don’t worry,” she reassures with a stiff smile, but it’s evident that something is clearly bothering her.

The leader gets up to sit next to her on the couch. “Do you want to talk about it? Or do you want some time to yourself first?”

Juliet contemplates his question for a few seconds before speaking again. “It’s nothing serious, I guess,” she admits, “but one of my former trainers at SM messaged me just before dinner asking me to meet up with him, and I don’t know how to respond.”

“Oh,” Hongjoong says. The mention of her former company causes the others to pay full attention to their conversation, knowing how unpleasant her experiences with a few of her former trainers were though she never talked about such incidents in detail. “Do you want to, though?”

“No,” Juliet responds immediately, expression turning cold. “Not now, probably not ever.”

“What happened with him?” Wooyoung asks before quickly adding, “you don’t have to tell us if you don’t want to.”

Juliet sighs, stuffing her phone into the pocket of her hoodie before hugging her knees to her chest. “No, no. I think it’s about time I told you guys what happened exactly, I guess I never did because it felt like there was never a right time to bring him up, and also because it feels stupid to talk about it when I haven’t seen him in years, and have no intention of changing that.”

Wooyoung pats her knee comfortingly. “Tell us however much you’re okay with,” he says with a gentle smile, “you don’t have to go into full detail if you don’t want to.”

Juliet pants heavily when the music stops, crouching down to catch her breath desperately while cursing the horrible cold she’s been dealing with for the past few days.

She just knows everyone noticed how her movements have gotten more sluggish with every time they go over the dance, and the humiliation sears through her body like a raging fire.

Someone—she can’t see who and is too dizzy to even turn her head in that direction to check—comes up from behind to rub her back soothingly as her chest continues to heave from exhaustion.

“Five minutes,” the gruff voice of their dance trainer says, and the group of girls instantly scramble to where their water bottles are lined up neatly against the wall. “Baek Minyoung, not you.”

At the sound of her name, Juliet looks up to see the man crooking a finger, motioning for her to walk over to where he is in a secluded corner of the practice room. Shakily, she stands up as the other girls murmur quiet encouragements, though they quickly leave her side from the glare the man sends towards them.

Juliet knows that no amount of mental preparation is enough when it comes to this particular trainer, and it makes her heart sink deeper and deeper with every step she takes towards him.

Her head is bowed when he starts speaking, not daring to look into his flaring eyes. “What’s wrong with you?” the man wastes no time in asking accusingly. “Did you think I wouldn’t notice how terrible your dancing has gotten these few days? Do you think slackers have a place here? You looked like a dying slug out there.”

“No, Sir. I’m sorry. I’m not trying to slack off, I have a cold, which is why—”

“I’m not interested in hearing your excuses,” he cuts her off icily. “Do you know what idols do when they get sick? They keep pushing. And that’s the complete opposite of what you’re doing.”

“I understand. I’m really sorry. I will do better,” Juliet replies softly, voice barely above a whisper, hoping that he’ll let her off easy.

But today is not her lucky day. The sound of a dry chuckle sends chills down her spine.

“Do you want to know something?” She doesn’t. In fact, she dreads knowing. But something tells her she doesn’t have the luxury of choosing, so she continues to keep her head down and tries to zero in on her shoes to hold back her tears.

She can feel the weight of everyone’s stares on her back, and she wants nothing more than to disappear into thin air.

“There were discussions about adding you to Red Velvet along with Yeri. A few people thought you were too young, others saw potential in you,” the trainer sneers. “Personally, I don’t see any of that, and I’m glad that they ultimately did not debut you, because all I see is an ungrateful, lazy brat.”

Juliet bites down harder on the inside of her cheeks to keep the tears at bay, and it doesn’t take long for her to taste iron.

“You better go back there and get your crap sorted out. Because if I see you not being up to par with the others again, I will not hesitate to go to the higher-ups with this, then you can kiss your future in this industry goodbye. Am I clear?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Look at me when you answer.”

Juliet swears she’s never seen so much hatred and disdain in someone’s eyes until the moment their eyes meet. And it takes everything in her not to burst into tears as she repeats her response in a trembling voice.

The man scoffs, dismissing her with a wave of his hand as though batting away an insect before clapping his hands together to gain the others’ attention.

“Break’s over! Let’s hope some of you actually know what you’re doing this time,” he says scornfully, blissfully ignorant of the fact that every word he said feels like another stab to her heart.

When Juliet looks up at her reflection in the mirror, she barely recognised herself from how hollow and empty her gaze looks, a far cry from the girl who started her journey as a trainee with starry eyes and a fiery passion.

What had she become? is the last thought that comes to mind before the music starts again, and she can only hope that she can make it through the rest of the session without making a mistake or collapsing.

“So... that’s basically what happened,” Juliet chokes out, leaning her head back as she blinks back tears. To be honest, she had to give herself credit for getting through that story without crying, knowing that that incident in particular instilled a new, and much more profound, sense of fear and self-doubt within her. “You can now probably see why I don’t want to meet with him.”

San comes to sit on the armrest of the couch so he can wrap his arms around the girl. “I’m so sorry that happened, but I’m glad you’re not in that situation anymore.”

“Yeah, me too,” Juliet chuckles bitterly, still not meeting any of the boys’ eyes by looking down at her hands. “I don’t think I’ve been the same since then. I mean, not that it’s completely his fault because there were so many contributing factors, but... I’ve never looked at myself so negatively until that day... it suddenly felt like I was the only person who couldn’t see how utterly worthless I was... I don’t know.”

“But what did he text you?” Despite the anger he feels for this man for hurting her in such a way, Seonghwa still manages to stay levelheaded.

Juliet takes her phone out to reread the message. “He said he was watching M Countdown a few days ago and recognised me when we got our first win. He congratulated me and apologised for everything he said to me when I was at SM. Then he asked me if I wanted to meet with him for lunch.”

“But how did he get your number?” Yeosang wonders out loud, frowning deeply. “That’s kinda creepy.”

The girl shrugs. “Who knows? I don’t know what he’s up to now, but he likely still has contacts in the industry and asked around for my number.”

Wooyoung scoffs. “The fact that he only reached out now shows he’s probably not that apologetic, since he’s the one who implied he remembers everything he’s said to you. If he really felt guilty, he would’ve made use of those contacts of his to reach out to you to apologise a lot earlier.”

“That’s what I thought,” Juliet agrees. “The fact that he texted me right after our first win doesn’t seem like a coincidence.”

Mingi huffs. “Maybe just tell him to get lost or something. He’s not worth the time.”

“If she isn’t an idol, she can cuss him out all she wants. But if like you said,” Hongjoong muses thoughtfully, turning back to Juliet, “and he’s either still in the industry or has contacts, then you can’t be too rude to him in case he tries to use it against you to paint you as some villain. You know how some people are.”

The others nod defeatedly. He has a point.

“Then... what do we do? We can’t let her go meet with him,” San says, his arms subconsciously holding Juliet a little tighter protectively.

“Of course not,” the leader assures, “I think the best course of action is to thank him for congratulating you, accept his apology—even if you don’t really want to, it can just be for show—and politely decline his invitation because your schedule is full.”

Juliet hesitates. “But what if he says that I’m lying to get out of it?”

“I mean, it’s not really a lie,” Yunho points out. “Our tour is coming up soon and we’re gonna be busy practising for it, so it really is the truth that you don’t have the time to see him. Plus, you don’t owe him anything, who cares if he thinks you’re lying or not?”

Juliet nods slowly, fingers hovering over the keyboard as she tries to think of a response, but her mind is so overwhelmed from the sudden message and the memories that nothing comes up.

“Do you want me to help you type it?” Seonghwa asks tenderly after a while of watching her struggle to formulate anything.

“Yes, please,” Juliet says immediately, visibly relieved as she pushes her phone into Seonghwa’s hand. The oldest member cocks his head to the side while he thinks before typing something down.

A few moments later, he hands her back her phone. “Here. If you’re okay with this, then you can send it to him.”

The other boys crowd around Juliet so they can all read the message Seonghwa typed out. When done, she looks up at Hongjoong for confirmation.

“It’s good, I think,” he says approvingly. “It’s short and concise, polite but not too friendly or curt so there’s no way it can be taken out of context in case it somehow gets leaked.”

Juliet nods, pressing on the “send” button with bated breath. The moment she sends the message, she feels as though a huge weight has been lifted off her, having spent the whole time during dinner silently stressing over how she should respond to the point where she could barely get down her food.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” she says, leaping off the sofa to throw her arms around Seonghwa’s neck. “I wouldn’t know what to do if it wasn’t for you guys. I actually contemplated pretending he had the wrong number or even meeting with him once so he’d leave me alone after that,” she admits, “but I’m glad you stepped in before I did either of those things.”

“And I’m glad you told us about this so we could work through it together,” Seonghwa smiles, stroking the girl’s head. “You don’t have to struggle with these things alone.”

“Now that we took care of that jerk, I think we should order chicken to celebrate!”

Seonghwa looks at the younger boy in disbelief. “Yeosang, we literally just had dinner!”

Juliet laughs. “It’s okay, there’s always room for chicken! Besides, I’m paying this time as a thank you!”

“In that case, who am I to complain?”

a/n: that incident was a pretty huge turning point for juliet in terms of her mental health. she already doesn’t feel confident in herself as most trainees are, but to hear from someone directly that she didn’t get to debut because she was apparently all those horrible things made a lasting impact on her, and since then she’s felt even more horrible about herself :( but she’s gotten a lot better at managing those feelings now and of course she has the support of the boys!!

[brokenbeskar]

Negotiator

Chapter Three of Memories Reforged ( Din Djarin x F!Reader )

Word Count: 5.8k

Summary: You finally make it to Nevarro to cash out your bounty, but end up revealing some details about yourself in the process  

Warnings: some talks of gender (Din mistakenly uses the wrong pronouns for you, you correct him later), suicidal ideation (reader was saved from death but wishes they hadn’t been) 

A/N:  you finally get to reveal a bit more of yourself in this one!!!  I hope you all like it! as always let me know if you see any mistakes or anything!

Somehow, you’ve never been to Nevarro. You’ve been to most of the Outer Rim at this point, but you’ve never stepped foot on this volcanic planet. You weren’t really sure what to expect, but two people waiting to greet the insufferable mandalorian you were traveling with, was definitely not one of them. 

“Mando!” The unfamiliar man extends his arms out in welcome as the ramp to the ship lowers fully, the shiny mandalorian nodding in response as he descends. “And how's my favorite baby doing?” The stranger leans forward to smile widely at the baby in the mandalorian’s arms and give him a little wave. The baby coos happily back at him, reaching out to mimic his wave. 

“It’s good to see you both alive and well.” The woman next to the both of them gives the mandalorian’s shoulder a rough pat, and he nods back in her direction too. Apparently that's the only way he knows to greet people back. 

You stand there awkwardly, but mostly surprised. He has friends? People who are happy to see him? You have been dreading every second you’ve had to spend alone with this reflective asshole, how could anyone actually enjoy his company? It's probably the baby. They only like him for the baby. Yeah, that makes more sense. 

“And who’s this you have with you? Care to introduce us to your friend here?” You’re snapped out of your thoughts and realize everyone is looking at you, the stranger man giving you a welcoming smile. You start to descend the ramp yourself so as to not be rude, stopping just besides the mandalorian you arrived with.

“He’s here on guild business. We’re splitting a reward.” He nods in your direction, but you're confused. Was he talking about you? Like...he nodded in your direction while talking about you, but ‘he’? It must have been a mistake. You ignore it and don’t say anything. 

“Splitting a reward?” The stranger man spits out, shocked. “What for?” 

“I ran into him on Jakku. He helped me take down the bomber and we agreed to split the reward in exchange for travel.” The mandalorian explains. You tilt your helmet up to look at him questioningly. First of all, you helped him? Oh he's got it all wrong, he tried to steal the bomber from you. And second, why does he keep referring to you as ‘he’? Suddenly it dawns on you--your helmet. He’s seen what you look like without your helmet, and you're half his size, but despite that he’s picking pronouns based on what your helmet tells him.

This helmet wasn’t made for you, it bears the masculine T shape visor, instead of the more rounded feminine shape traditional in mandalorian armor. It’s really the only distinguishing factor, mandalorian culture doesn’t really care for individuality. It doesn't matter who you are, just that you’re a strong warrior. Hell even all of the pronouns in mando’a are gender neutral. Well, you still don’t like him, but at least he’s respectful.

“Well, if that's the case, lets go inside to talk business. Forgive me for my lack of manners, I’m Greef Karga.” He turns to you, and places his hand over his chest as he introduces himself, before notioning to the woman next to him, “And this is Marshal Cara Dune.” 

You nod in return to the both of them, offering your own name readily. “It’s a pleasure to meet the both of you.” The both of them look surprised, confused you just gave your name, and that just confuses you. 

“Well, I guess we don’t have to worry about figuring out a distinction between the two of you now, do we?” Karga chuckles out. You just look between the two of them, then to the mandalorian besides you. Weren’t they friends? Did he never bother to introduce himself? That doesn't make sense to you. You decide to let it go for now, you’ll ask him about it later. 

You follow as Greef Karga leads the group of you through the city. It’s far nicer than you were expecting considering you know guild operations were being run here. There were bustling shops and children running and playing, the smell of food from nearby stalls filled the air. Colorful tapestries and awnings lined the streets, shops selling all kinds of fanciful wares.This isn’t what you were expecting at all. Cara’s marshal status must be no joke, she must be half the reason this place is running as smoothly as it is. She ends up having to part with your group halfway into town to deal with something. She’s polite when she excuses herself and makes a point to mention that it was nice to meet you before she heads out. She’s nice. Her strong exterior is only strengthened by her winning smile. You wonder how her and the mandalorian met, how they ended up friends.

The rest of your group makes it to the nearby cantina and settle at a table. The baby has fallen asleep in the pouch the mandalorian is carrying. You’re a bit surprised how nice it is inside, it's not a dirty grimy bar, but a more respectable establishment. This was clearly a place of business. 

“So,” Karga starts, “I understand you're a guild member, but I don’t recognize you.” He folds his hands together on the table between you.

“My usual outpost is on Carajam.” You explain as you pull out your bounty puck and slide it onto the table in front of you. The mandalorian next to you takes out his several pucks and puts them onto the table next to yours.

“Ahh, I see, Carajam. Quite the hub that one is.” he nods gathering the pucks infront of him, but pausing before he grabs yours. “Unfortunately, I can only cash out one of these.” He holds up the mandalorian’s puck for the bomber up, “So I’ll split the reward for this one between the two of you.” “Cash mine out instead.” You nod in the direction of your puck on the table. 

Karga raises an eyebrow at you, “yours? I’m sorry my friend, but there's no difference. The rewards are the same.” 

“Check it, they’re not the same.” You lean back in your seat, getting comfortable. Karga looks confused as he picks up your puck instead. He activates it, and looks down at the flickering image in shock. He notions to one of the guards stationed nearby and they appear at his side almost instantly with a holopad. 

“How did you get a commission price this high? On such a low level bounty too…” His voice trails off as he navigates through the menus of the holopad. 

You just shrug, “Just really good at catching bounties I guess.” You relax even further, leaning an arm over on the back of your booth. Your body language is oozing confidence. He just hums lowly to himself while he continues to fiddle around on the holopad. 

“I assume you use a different name for guild operations?” He looks up at you and you freeze. You haven’t had to mention your old alias in years. Your regular contact knows you well enough that you never have to supply it.

“I do. You can take it off my puck.” You try to keep cool, notioning towards the puck still sitting on the table. “It’s a guild bounty, it shouldn’t be a problem.”

“I wouldn’t be a problem if I knew you maybe.” He lowers the holopad and sets it on the table before leaning forward in his seat, “I’m sorry my friend, but this is my first time meeting you, I’ve got rules to follow you know. I need to verify that it's actually your puck, and not a stolen one.” You tense at the accusation, turning the gaze of your visor to the floor beside your booth. 

“This is ridiculous,” you spit out, “that's my puck, and that's my bounty frozen in carbonite. Just give me the reward.” You can’t help how defensive you sound. You really don’t want to say it outloud. It’s such a simple thing, but it feels too painful, and quite frankly you're embarrassed. Especially considering the mandalorian next to you. You realize you’re probably coming off as suspicious at this point, but you don't care. There's no way anyone could understand how difficult just saying the name he gave you out loud actually is for you.

“Look, I’m not trying to be difficult,” he reasons, changing his tone to try and sound more genuine, “But I’ll have to cash in Mando’s puck instead of yours if you won’t give me your registered name.” Your whole body is tense now. The confidence that once oozed off of you is gone. Your struggle to give up your alias is obvious to anyone, even with your helmet still on. 

Finally you sigh, you can’t afford to lose those credits. “It's Laar Sennar.” You breathe out, quieter than you want. You think maybe it was too quiet for anyone to actually hear you, but then you notice the mandalorian next to you, snap the gaze of his visor to you, and you know he heard. His gaze also confirms your suspicion that he knows mando’a. Of course he does, what mandalorian doesn’t?

“Thank you, Laar Sennar. See? Wasn’t so hard was it?” Karga smiles at you then picks the holopad back up to look you up. “And there you are!” He exclaims when he finds you and looks over your file. The smile on his face fades, and before he says anything you already know what he sees, “Oh, I’m sorry about your partner.” He looks up from the holopad and gives you a compassionate look. 

Despite knowing it was coming, it still stings in your chest. Just like your alias, no one mentioned him anymore unless by accident, and even that was rare. “It's fine.” Is all you can muster, but even that comes out short and forced, your hurt clearly audible in your response. You’re making an absolute fool of yourself, are these credits even worth it? You let out the lightest sigh. You’re not even sure it registers through your helmet’s modulator, but that would be for the best. 

“Well, now that I’ve confirmed this puck to be yours,” Karga sets a stack of credits on the table in front of you and the silent wall of beskar next to you, and splits them in half, sliding each in their respective directions, “here are your credits. Mando, here’s your reward for your other pucks.” He pulls out some more credits and slides them over to the mandalorian next to you. “Now in regards to new jobs, I’ve got a few options. However…,” he pauses as he shifts his gaze between the both of you, “Perhaps if the two of you were willing to work together again...I’ve got a bigger job I could give you.” 

“Bigger how?” The mandalorian next to you speaks for the first time in what seems like forever, and you're surprised this is what makes him speak. Was he actually considering working with you? The thought of being forced to work with him again sounds awful, it would take way more credits than Karga is about to offer you for you to take it.

“Sixty Thousand. For each of you.” You think you choke on air. Sixty thousand credits?! Suddenly working with this shiny tincan of a man doesn’t sound so bad afterall. Karga pulls out the puck and sets it on the table, “It’s not an easy job, you’ll have to work together to make sure he doesn’t escape, or you’ll be chasing him across the galaxy. Bit of a slippery one, this one is.” 

“We’ll take it.” You blurt out before you even discuss it with your newly established business partner. Sixty thousand credits is too good to pass up. You look up to gauge his reaction, but he's staring directly at you already. Shit, he’s going to decline it, you just know he is. You should have known, he probably hates being around you just as much as you hate being around him. You are each just a nuisance the other can’t quite seem to shake off. Much to your surprise however, he reaches out and grabs the puck off the table, pocketing it. A silent agreement. He accepted the job. Oh thank the maker. 

“It’s settled then! I’m only giving you the one job for now, come back to me when you’ve completed it and I’ll give you new ones. This one might take you both awhile.” Karga smiles brightly at you both. “Regardless, I hope the both of you will stay in Nevarro a bit longer? I can provide lodging if it means Mando here will grace us with his company awhile.” 

You go to respond, but ‘Mando’ himself interrupts before you even start, “We’ll only be staying long enough for a supply run. We’ll be gone by sundown. Could you have my ship fueled up before then?” 

Karga frowns at that, “Honestly Mando, when is it anything other than business with you? But of course.” He turns his gaze to you, “Well it was a pleasure to meet you, I hope to see you back on Nevarro soon.” He gives you a hearty smile, and you give him  a nod in response. 

“Likewise. Until next time.” You stand to leave with a wave to Karga and your new hunting partner follows out behind you. 

“I’m surprised you seemed so excited to take the job.” He states amusement seeping into his tone. 

“It’s like you said, Five thousand credits isn’t enough for a ship.” You shrug back at him. “Looks like we’re stuck together for a little while longer, shiny.” You continue to walk besides him passing through the main road of the city, scanning the shops for anything important. You stop at one shop in particular and start loading up on medical supplies, throwing them onto the counter. When the shopkeep tells you the price, you turn to look at your new business partner expectantly. “Well? You got paid out a lot more than I did.” You nod towards where he pocketed his credits earlier. “You turned in 4 pucks, I only had one.” You remind him. He grumbles something before throwing some credits over to the shop keep, and turning to leave before you can finish scooping up your goods. “You better be pitching in for fuel.” He grunts out as you catch up to him. 

“For a trip you would have made regardless if I came along?” You scoff, “Absolutely not.” He just shakes his helmet lightly, clearly frustrated with you. You continue on your way picking up supplies for the trip, there's three of you on one ship now, so you wanted to make sure you were prepared for anything. 

---------

“You know mando’a?” He asks suddenly while you're silently browsing a weapons stall, and it completely catches you off guard. You feel yourself tense up at the question, but you hope it's nothing obvious. 

“Bits and pieces,” You reply cooly, “As most who know it do. It’s a dying language after all.” You shrug, never turning to look at him as you lean forward and continue to look through the various blades and blasters laid out in front of you. You hope that will be the end of it, but he keeps going. 

“Your alias,” He starts, but pauses. You figure he's trying to find the right way to ask you about it, “Interesting choice.” Is what he settles on. You can’t help but let out an amused huff.

“I didn’t pick it,” you confess lightly, and you look ever so slightly over your shoulder to see he's staring right at you, waiting for you to continue. You stand up straight from where you were inspecting the weapons table, “It was given to me. A sort of…” you hum lightly to yourself trying to think of the words to describe it, “A sort of pet name I guess.” You smile underneath your helmet at the memory and turn to leave the weapons stall, deciding against getting anything.

“Pet name?” he questions, and the baby starts to fuss in the pouch on his hip. He pulls Grogu out of it, carrying him in his armored arm. The baby coos lightly as he blinks away the sleep in his eyes. You turn and tap the baby’s nose causing him to giggle, your new favorite habit you can never seem to resist. 

“Mhmm,” you finally reply with a nod. “Ner kih laar sennar…” You speak out wistfully looking out at the ashy sky above you, “My little song bird...that's what he used to call me.” You scoff at how ridiculous it sounds out loud in basic, kicking a stray pebble beneath your boot in embarrassment, but the smile under your helmet never fading. You remember the first time he said it to you, how it took your breath away. It sounded so beautiful in his native language, you craved to hear him say it everyday. “When I enlisted as an official guild member it was the only thing I could think of.” You can't help but let out a laugh, you remember it clear as day. Your guild contact had asked what you wanted to be registered under, and in your panic you just--blurted it out. You’ll never forget the way he turned to you in shock, or how relentlessly he teased you about it afterwards. You’ll never forget his confession, when he had admitted how he loved the way mando’a sounded coming from your lips, and how happy he was that was the name you chose for yourself. The name he gave to you.

You’re broken out of your thoughts and back to the present when the baby starts fussing again, whining and reaching out towards something. You turn your gaze toward what he's looking at, and it’s a large, seemingly handymade, frog toy. You immediately rush over to the stall, it's full of trinkets and miscellaneous items, but there were also a lot of things for children. You pick up the stuffed frog and hold it out to the baby in the mandalorians arms. He excitedly babbles and reaches to take it from you.

“You like this one, little bug? You think shiny here should get it for you?” you bounce the toy frog up and down in your hands as if you’re speaking through it and Grogu nearly shrieks with happiness, “yeah? I agree!” You nod and turn your visor to meet the mandalorian’s and you can tell he's annoyed with you. “Well? You heard the baby!” You scold, “Better hand over those credits quickly!” you turn back to the merchant after handing the toy to Grogu and pick out some  other children's toys. A small bag of blocks, some wax coloring sticks, and a colorful rubber ball that fits perfectly in your palm. “These too please,” you show the items to the merchant, and start to put them in your bag before something else catches your eye, “ohh! And two of these!” You quickly grab a couple wrapped candy bars, one for you and one for the baby.

If you’re being honest with yourself you don’t really want one, but you know this is irritating him. The fact you are so willing to spend his credits for him without asking, you can feel him seething with anger behind you...and you live for it. You turn to face him, “oh! I’m so sorry…,” you tilt your helmet at him pretending to be sympathetic, sarcasm oozing from your modulated voice, “did you want one too?” 

The beskar clad man says nothing, just threateningly towers over you while the baby happily coos in his arms. You can feel the absolute seething anger he’s exuding right now, and you're sure if you were anyone else, you would be terrified. Kriff, you probably should be terrified anyways, you’re about to be alone with this man on his ship for who knows how long, but he doesn't scare you. In fact, the threatening way his visor is burning a hole into yours just fuels you to keep going, “Make that three!” You nod to the merchant and grab another candy bar from the stall, before turning to leave and continue on your way. You can’t help but chuckle to yourself as you hear the shiny idiot curse under his breath before practically throwing the credits onto the merchants table and catching up to you. 

“I’m not made of credits.” He hisses out at you. 

“Oh, I know.” You nod in agreement. “But look how happy he is!” You motion to the baby who is absolutely thrilled playing with his brand new toy, a luxury he's been lacking for who knows how long now. “He’s worth every spare credit. Aren’t you, Bean?” You wiggle your pointer finger at him but he's too engrossed in his new plaything to notice. 

Making it back to the ship, you take the baby from the mandalorian and make a head start to the cockpit while he hands over even more credits to the one who's just finished fueling up the ship. You can’t help but snicker to yourself at your own mischievous behavior as you settle into your seat with the baby in your lap. You really just did that. This man was still a complete stranger to you and yet you just practically spent all of his newfound credits for him. That’s definitely payback for the sudden babysitting job he threw at you on Corellia, you guess you can call it even for now. Besides, how can anyone deny this precious little guy anything? You grab the floppy arm of the frog toy and wave it at the excited baby in your arms. 

The mandalorian eventually arrives back into the cockpit with the two of you, irritation still apparent by the way he not-so-subtly stomps his way to the pilots seat. He doesn’t say a word as he initiates takeoff, lifting the ship off the ground and making its way through the atmosphere. 

“You’re paying the next time we fill up.” He grunts out as he warps the ship into hyperspace. 

“Fair enough.” You nod, continuing to play with the baby in your lap, “I’ve had my fun.” 

“Oh, that's what you consider fun?” He sounds far less than amused and you can’t help the chuckle that escapes your lips. 

“After what you pulled on me landing in Corellia? Oh yeah.” you nod again for emphasis. 

“Trying to humiliate me in front of my bounty wasn’t enough?” He turns his seat to face you. 

“Try to? Oh no, I definitely humiliated you.” you correct him, and you’re almost disappointed you still have your helmet on because he can’t see the sly grin proudly spread across your face. He just sighs and turns back towards the front of the ship. “Don’t worry though, I think we can call it even now.” 

“Thank the maker.” The utter sarcasm and annoyance he has for you weighs heavy on his words, and more than anything, it only satisfies you further. 

“Oh cheer up tin can! Here--,” You rifle through your go bag on the floor next to your seat and pull out the candy bars from earlier. You hold one out to him, “Here's yours.” 

“Keep it.” He doesn’t even look at it. Was he really that mad at you? 

“Suit yourself.” You shrug and tug off your helmet, tucking it next to you opposite of the baby. You open one and break it in half, giving one half to the baby, and wrapping the remaining half back in its wrapper. The last thing you need is to give this kid a sugar rush while you're stuck in hyperspace. You tuck it back in your bag, along with the one meant for the bitter loser next to you. You unwrap yours and take a bite when you realize--you haven’t seen the mandalorian eat once since you’ve been together. In fact, you haven't seen him take off his helmet at all. “When’s the last time you ate?” You take another bite.

“Last night. While you were sleeping.” While you were sleeping? Kriff this guy is weird.

“What? You don’t trust me enough to take your helmet off around me? We’re business partners now. I’m not going to kill you...not that the helmet would prevent me from doing so anyways.” 

“I don’t trust you,” You’re about to make a snide comment back in response as you take another bite of your candy bar, but he cuts you off, “But that's not why.” He never breaks his gaze from the cockpit window. Now you're confused, what the hell does that mean? 

“What's the reason then?” You question.

“My creed.” How he manages to answer your questions without actually explaining anything never ceases to piss you off. 

“Your creed?” you try to emphasize the confusion in your tone, hoping he will actually explain something to you, but he just nods in response. “What creed?” Maker, he is so absolutely frustrating. You put the rest of your candy bar away, no longer interested.

“The way of the Mandalore.” You’re hoping he will keep going, but you should have known better by this point. You truly have no kriffing idea what he's talking about. 

“What? So you won’t take your helmet off in front of me because you’re a mandalorian? That doesn't make sense. I knew a mandalorian, quite well mind you, and I’ve never heard of that before. He took off his helmet all the time.” This is only getting more and more confusing and his short responses are only making things worse.

“This is The Way.” He nods to himself as if he's making perfect sense. Only, he's not making any sense at all. 

“Is this...creed...the same reason your friends back on Nevarro don’t know your name?” He nods again. You just stare at him, confusion lined all over your face. This is nothing like any mandalorian you knew. Not that you knew many of them. You knew mandalorians were held by a creed, but you’ve never heard of it being that intense. “So okay…,” you look around the cockpit trying to think of a way to ask more, “I’m sorry, please explain this to me, I don’t want to be disrespectful.” For some reason, that statement is the one he decides is worth looking at you for. 

“To call myself a mandalorian, to wear the beskar, I took the creed as a child. Gave up my name, vowed to never show my face to anyone. A creed I must follow if I’m to continue to wear this armor, continue to be a mandalorian. It’s the reason I have to return the child to his kind. This is what it means to be a mandalorian, this is The Way.” He says every word like his soul rests in each of them. This is the most this mysterious man has ever spoken to you, and it’s with such a passion, such conviction. 

You’re almost afraid to ask anymore questions. As much as you don’t like this guy, you have a lot of respect for how important this clearly is to him. You know mandalorians are big on tradition, and they each had a pretty strict code of honor, the Resol'nare. To stop following that code, to stop being a mandalorian for whatever reason was to lose your soul, “dar’manda” it was called. But this? This was on a whole other level. 

“So...do--do all mandalorians take this...creed?” You try to ask carefully, you don’t want to overstep any boundaries you might not be aware of. This creed he took, it was clearly about secrecy, you weren’t sure if even asking about it might be going too far.

“I thought so…,” He looks back out the window pausing and taking a breath before continuing, “But I recently learned that wasn’t the case.” You nod in understanding, taking your gaze off him and instead to the helmet resting under your arm. 

“Thank you...uh for explaining…” You’re trying to sound genuine but you’re pretty sure it just comes off awkward. He doesn’t say anything and you feel like the silence between the two of you is suffocating. You’re used to quiet, it doesn’t bother you usually, but this? This kind of quiet was different and you hated it. Not even the baby was making noise, He was slowly drifting off in your arms, and you’re almost tempted to rile him up again even if it's only to save you from the stifling silence. Almost. 

“Your hunting partner,” His low modulated voice suddenly breaks the silence, and you would be thankful if it weren’t for the subject matter, “They’re the one that gave you your alias?” 

You nod slowly, still peering at the helmet under your arm. “That who you got the armor from?” 

“Yeah.” You nod again and you force a sad smile more at the helmet than the man speaking to you. Hunting partner...you could almost laugh. If only that's all he was to you, maybe it would hurt a whole lot less that he was gone. 

The mandalorian finally looks at you again, “Were you...an item?” It’s his turn to struggle in the same way you did, trying to ask his questions without being disrespectful. This time you actually laugh, it barely comes out, but it's there. 

“He was my husband.” You finally admit it to him, you aren’t sure why you’re finally comfortable enough to tell him. Maybe it's because of how vulnerable he was about his creed. 

“Your husband was a mandalorian?” What a stupid question

“Yes, yes he was.” You gaze out the cockpit window at the smear of stars flying past you in hyperspace. 

“That's why you keep the armor?” More stupid questions. Marker, this guy really was a dumbass. You left out a sad sigh. 

“His armor is all I have left of him. I wear it to remember him, to honor him.” Your gaze meets the visor already staring at you. The stars reflecting strongly off the top of his helmet. “I will die before I let anyone take it from me. I’ll take this beskar to my grave...a creed of my own I guess.” You shift your gaze to the now sleeping baby in your arms and slowly, gently, stroke the top of his fuzzy head. You haven’t spoken about your late husband out loud in--maker, you don’t even know how long. It hurts. Your chest is aching, still just as painful as the day he left you. “He died a warrior's death. Just what every mandalorian hopes for I guess…” You can’t help but sound bitter. You sigh, “I was supposed to die with him,” You admit. You aren’t sure why you're still talking, it’s not like he asked you. Maybe it's been too long since you’ve spoken about him, you just can’t help yourself, “But he saved me.” You shake your head, and take a deep breath. “I don’t know why he did, I never got to ask, I never got the chance to even argue,” You scoff, “I wanted to die with him...but he saved me.” 

The mandalorian next to you just continues to watch you as you pour your heart out. You wonder if he can tell how much it still hurts. How hard it is for you to talk about it, even after all this time. He doesn’t seem irritated, or bored, you can’t tell what he's thinking, but he's not stopping you, so you keep going.

“He was my whole life, my oathsworn, my riduur....” The mando’a doesn’t roll off your tongue in the same way it would when he said it, and maker, you wish more than anything you could hear him say it one more time. Hear him call you his Sen’ika, his cyare, mesh’la, anything. What you would give to hear him speak those sweet words to you again. “I was to stay by his side no matter where he went--and to me that meant even in death. I was prepared to follow him in death...but he took that from me, and next thing I knew I had to find a new life. I had nothing left…” 

You look back up to the man sitting next to you, and you suddenly feel sick. You can’t believe you just unloaded all of that onto him. You don’t know this man, you barely met him, you don't even like him, in fact you very much dislike him. Yet here you were, pouring your heart out to him about your dead husband. You feel like there's a blade in your gut, slowly turning as it gets pushed farther in. You’re utterly embarrassed. “Sorry…” You mutter out, shifting your gaze to the cockpit floor. You can’t bear to look at him. 

The mandalorian next to you doesn’t break his gaze from you. He must think you’re a fool, an utter fool, spilling your emotions onto the floor of his ship. Weak for letting your sadness sweep over you so easily. You figure he’ll never take you seriously now, throw it back in your face if you make a mistake. 

“Thank you.” He nods his visor slowly once, “for explaining.” you never expected to hear your awkward words said back to you, but as awkward as they sounded coming from you, they sound so genuine coming from him. A man who barely speaks. You meet the gaze of his visor once again, before you try to play it cool, feeling way too vulnerable.

“Don’t get used to it.” You let a small smile creep over your face. Maybe this shiny beskar clad man wasn’t so bad afterall. He doesn’t say anything, and silence fills the cockpit once again, but this time it’s not unpleasant. No longer sifling, but comfortable instead.

“She by the way,” you break it, and you look to each other once again, “I’m a she.” You smile at him, “I know my helmet says otherwise, but I’m a she.” He stares at you way too long without saying anything. It starts getting awkward real fast, until he gives you a slight nod and returns his gaze to the cockpit window. What a strange guy. You lean back and get comfortable in your seat, gently stroking Grogu’s cheek while he sleeps in your arms as the three of you warp through hyperspace. ***

Previous - MASTER - Next

[sooibian]

The Spy Who Loved Me

gif credits @byunvoyage​

Pairing: Spy!Baekhyun x Assassin!Reader ft. Chen, Chanyeol

Description: It’s an obsessive cat and mouse chase

Themes: Dark comedy, angst, heavily inspired by season one of Killing Eve

Warnings: Violence, strong language

Word Count: ~2.8k

A/N: This one-shot comes during a very busy season for me so if you can make time for feedback, I’d be very grateful. Thanks :)

———————————————————————–

It’s the way light escapes their eyes.

Fear. Despair. Hope. Then…nothing.

They hope to be spared. I have a family…what about my children…please…why are you doing this to me…. The utterly foolish ones even offer you money. This imbecility makes the corners of your mouth curl upwards - especially when they’re out of breath from running or begging or whatever it is that gets their heart rate up. Eh. Factor in some cardio before dissolving into a permanent state of slumber, maybe? Poor things always mistake the twitch of your lips for impending clemency…what they don’t know is that it’s always been the breathy ones that peak your excitement.

There’s not a single hit you’ve regretted.

Mostly because you don’t bother with the futility of why. They give you a name and you jet off. To you, it’s really a fun job involving travel, costumes, languages, a hefty allowance, sticking pointy objects in the right places and theatrics. You’re not one to just do your job and slip away quietly. No arterial air embolisms, no unidentifiable fumes or poisons. No boring and discreet.  Where’s the fun in that? Flamboyant is your middle name. Every assassination is a heroi-comical poem for you - killing an asthamatic nez with a fatal concoction of perfume or a feeble-hearted fetishist with clamps that turned out to be a wee bit too intense for him.

You’re good at this. No, infact, you’re the best there is, the best there was, the best there ever  will be.

“The NIS has deployed a team of four to hunt you down because of the mess you left in Beijing. So you’ll be working with a team now. No more flying solo.” Your handler Chen says nonchalantly. 

Shit.

Beijing. “Make it look like a suicide”, had been the directive. The assignment Kasia had been put under witness protection after you’d murdered her mafia boyfriend. She was in a hospital - injured and deranged from the shock of it all, watched over by armed men. Things obviously didn’t go as planned and the security detail bloodbath was, well, collateral damage.

You saunter towards Chen with an intentional swing in your hips, a pout on your lips. You sit a little too close to the astute man, almost purring with seduction, “NIS, you say. Give me a name." 

“Byun Baekhyun.” His lips curl into a cat-like smile as he stealthily adds a foot long distance between the both of you.

“Never heard of him”, you say neutrally, gliding closer to his stoic form.

“He was a security officer before this. A nobody. In fact, he was fired right after the Kasia debacle in Beijing. She was his responsibility.” Letting out an exasperated sigh, he gets up on the pretext of fetching a glass of water.

“Why the sudden promotion, then?”

“A change of jobs. He’s heading a team…Operation Jinseong, they call themselves. Apparently, he’s the only one who believed that the murders have all been executed by a woman. If they can get to you, they can get to them. The organization. This conjecture has seemed to have impressed a higher up. After firing him, they swept his computer and found hoards of theories and all the intelligence he could gather about the faceless demon that’s actually…you. An insider thinks he’s fascinated. And a little cuckoo.” Chen’s laughter is throaty and taunting. 

He takes a sip of water and places the glass carefully on the counter, eyeing you the entire time. Chen. It’s a nom de plume. He’s a ghost - a shadow of a shadow, if you will. You know nothing about Chen but you know better than to snoop around. He’s always been affable yet distant, but he has this maddening habit of scrutinizing people. The changes in the expression, the dilation of the pupils. The man doesn’t miss a beat. And he stares unapologetically. You wonder what he thinks when he looks at you. You wonder how he feels. Disgusted? Lustful? Terrified?

He wants to know everything that’s behind those vacant eyes. With him, you feel disrobed.

“You’re only as good as your last”, he says finally, in his threateningly soft voice, thrusting a thumb drive into your hand. But you don’t feel threatened. The truth is, you feel nothing at all.

He’s at the door when you exclaim, “You never have sex with me!” Feigning annoyance.

He laughs and states matter -of-factly, “I’m married”, before closing the door behind him.

Like that’s ever stopped a man before.

***

Byun Baekhyun.

You search the thumb drive and a fresh faced man with luminous eyes smiles at you from the screen. His arm is wrapped around a slender, honey-skinned woman with big hair and big teeth. They look like an advertisement for home buyers.

A wave of recognition floods your mind.

He was there. 

He was there at the Beijing scene. The beautiful man who helped you with the coffee maker in the hospital. The very same coffee you doused barista Kasia with. 

There’s an inexplicable swell in your chest.

.

.

.

You’re no team player.

The undertaking with your ex and her boyfriend didn’t go as planned. Chen should’ve known. 

After a disagreement, you instigated her to off him, your shin getting injured in the scuffle. Then you ran her over with the jeep - once, twice. The third time was just to be sure. This commotion affected the escape of the NIS Agent you were after.

The mole that ratted out Baekhyun’s Operation Jinseong. 

The murders of your “colleagues” you could manage to explain - you’d tailored them to look like accidents. However, the assignment’s escape was sure to reflect poorly on you.

You’re only as good as your last.

The Agent scurries across a field of dead grass towards the feeder road, putting considerable distance between him and an injured you, where someone sat waiting anxiously in the driver’s seat.

Oh, Baekhyun…

It’s the first time you look into each other’s eyes, the moment stretching between you. It is like standing on the ledge of a skyscraper. With the wind in your hair, the world at your feet but in this space exists trepidation. A fear of falling.

Your gun wielding arm suddenly feels too heavy and your legs threaten to give up on you. Your heart rate escalates as the hot embers of his gaze gloss over the stretch of your skin. 

The mole slips into the backseat of Baekhyun’s compact Kia Morning as you continue to take aimless shots at his vitals - eyes still intertwined with Baekhyun’s. 

What good was a mole to the NIS?, you wanted to ask. Especially one that looked like a sewer rat.

You were only doing them a favour.

Aiming the gun at Baekhyun, you fire, only to realize he isn’t fearful or panicky. On the contrary, there is a sense of purpose in his eyes as well as something you could only identify as a glimmer. A spark. 

Even from a twenty foot distance you can tell Byun Baekhyun is in awe of you.

This…thing…this electricity surges through your veins and you sprint towards your jeep - as fast as your good leg could carry you. 

Oops. You didn’t mean to run over her for the fourth time.

***

Reverse. Acceleration. A few well thought out turns and your jeep is hardly a hundred meters behind Baekhyun’s car. You continue to fire and he continues to dart, swerve, sidestep. A good driver.

Suddenly, his car comes to a screeching halt.

He steps out of his vehicle amidst shrill cries of protest from the mole in the backseat and you follow suit.

Weaponless, crouched, he inches towards the gun pointed at him. 

“I mean no harm”, despite his scared posture, his voice is confrontational. “Leave the man alone. He has a little girl.”

Oh, Baekhyun…

You smile at him. He smiles back.

A genuine smile. Like the one your father used to give you when he saw you relishing ice-cream as…a little girl.

In a flash, you aim the nozzle at your temple and Baekhyun cries out a loud, pained, “NO!”

Laughing, you lower the gun and fire at his feet. He ducks. 

You vanish.

.

.

.

It was exhilarating to use the alias ``Mrs. Byun ” for your next job especially since the man and his giant partner have been on your tail for three months now. 

But, maybe, you shouldn’t’ve stolen Baekhyun’s luggage as soon as he landed in Tokyo to investigate the mysterious death of a Chinese colonel. He and his team knew perfectly well whodunnit. But one can’t bring faceless demons to book now, can they?

Who knows how this easily distracted giant of a man is supposed to protect Baekhyun if it should ever come to it. He couldn’t even watch his luggage for a measly five minutes.

***

You watch Baekhyun and the giant from your apartment overlooking the crime scene. He looks frazzled and the giant slightly apologetic. ‘You’ll have your bag back soon, baby’, you whisper, sucking on a bubblegum flavoured lollipop.

Thirty minutes roll by and the investigation seems to be heading nowhere. Bored out of your wits, you slump into your bed and toy with the contents of Baekhyun’s bag - shirts, slacks, underwear, toiletries.

Dull, tedious, and soul-destroyingly unimaginative. 

Save for one green scarf. 

In a sea of monotones, the scarf stands out. Demanding attention. Fluttering your eyes shut, you slowly bury your face in it - your senses entirely enveloped in his heady scent. 

***

“Excuse me, if you don’t mind me asking, where did you get that scarf from?”

Day two in Tokyo. You’ve been following Baekhyun (and, by extension, Chanyeol). Studying him. It was like adopting Chen’s personality. Apart from the occasional loud laughter, his demeanour, you learn, is self-effacing, gracious, and polite. He’s a picky eater who only eats to live and not the other way round. He’s also very observant and intuitive. But not enough to know that he’s being watched. 

Also, he’s thinking. Constantly. He’s thinking about you. 

“Excuse me?”

Chanyeol asks again - large, deep brown eyes focused on your neck trying to stop you from getting onto the same train as Baekhyun. 

Very subtle.

“It’s from my mother’s store. I could give you the address if you like”, smiling, you crane your neck to look into his disturbed eyes as you both pretend not to know each other amidst a swarm of dog-tired people on the platform at six in the evening.

You slip into the crowd but the oaf chooses to follow.

What does he think he’s doing following an assassin through a strange city! Unarmed.

Forty minutes elapse and he continues to chase you through the streets of Tokyo, keeping up with your brisk pace. With your easy charm, you breeze into the club called Camelot and wave Chanyeol goodbye as he’s stopped by the bouncer and sent to the back of the line. His eyes are dark with a murderous rage.

The club is loud, dark…stuffy - the air thick with over-the-counter happiness. Definitely not to your taste but you stay to give Chanyeol a head start. He’s pissed you off and he’ll pay for it later. Not today. 

You really didn’t want to upset a tired Baekhyun. At least not until you feel a beefy hand weigh down your shoulder.

“I didn’t want to do this”, you rise on your tippy toes and whisper into his ear before sticking a short blade into the side of his stomach. He’s heaving as you stare into his round, childlike, startled eyes while supporting his stumbling weight and stabbing him repeatedly until he finally collapses.

You leave him to bleed out on the dance floor and on your way out, you grab the arm of a medium-built man, your blood-dipped, glistening lips stretched into a lascivious smile.

“Let’s put you in a costume first”, you say to the unassuming moron, excitably thinking of Baekhyun’s dull shirts.

.

.

.

Grief draws people closer, your grandmother used to say, every time someone died of sickness in that impoverished little village of yours.

Baekhyun’s grieving the oaf who was slowing him down. He’s looking for company. So..he’s snooping. 

He’s in your apartment.

The “trusting old lady” - your next door neighbour, who actually works for the same organization as you handed him the key exactly as instructed. You’d been expecting him, this meeting was long overdue. But you wait in the cute little French cafe just around the corner - watching him scout out your apartment through your phone, while devouring a Charlotte Russe cake - dressed pretty in a flouncy pink dress.

He’s careful not to make a squeak. Walking on tippy toes, running his beautifully slender fingers along the drapes, the furniture, the walls as he goes. Your skin tingles all over. Oh, how you wish to be a piece of furniture in the moment. Only Baekhyun could make you want to be something muted and inanimate. Furniture, mattress, drapes.

He saunters slowly to your blackwood Georgian cupboard. The one you use for your wigs, costumes, weapons, and his own green scarf. He wears the scarf around his neck, ruffles the costumes but he’s gentle with the wigs. Stroking and caressing. 

From the drawer he picks out a .38 and shoves it in his waistband. Right behind his hip bone.

Oh, Baekhyun…

Pretty boys and their dangerous toys.

He finds himself in the kitchen. The revolver seems to have straightened his spine and suffused his step with a very welcome spring. Mi casa es su casa. 

In the fridge he finds exactly what he’s supposed to. No food. Only a dozen bottles of celebratory champagne of the best kind. What comes next from him is a scornful snicker which fills your mouth with a bitter taste. The Charlotte Russe doesn’t look very appetizing anymore. He draws a bottle out of the fridge, studies it and smashes it onto the floor. Then another, then another until all the bottles are reduced to shattered glass dripping in gold strewn across your kitchen floor.

Playtime is over, Baekhyun.

You make a run for your apartment.

***

He’s exhausted. 

Breathless, air tousled, shirt crumpled, eyes droopy, beads of sweat lined across his forehead and upper lip - standing clueless, smack-dab in the middle of the mess he’s made - clothes torn off their hangers, furniture overturned. You can’t recognize your upscale Seoul apartment anymore. Careful around the glass, you make your way towards his still frame, withdraw the weapon from his light, jaded grasp. 

You take his hand in yours and lead him to your bedroom - which is entirely ransacked just like the rest of your house. Save for the bed.

He lies down on his back and his first words are, “God, I’m tired.”

“Me too”, you say, as you lie facing him, “Are you wearing the cologne I gave you?”

You’d sent him a bottle of cologne along with the bag you had nicked in Tokyo, as a token of appreciation. It was handcrafted to smell like power.

He hums, turning to the side to face you, nestling into the depths of your irises.

“Are you going to kill me?” He asks, eyeing the revolver in your hand.

Your heart falls to pieces at the ache in his voice.

“No”, you say simply, tossing it to the side.

“Really?”

“I promise.”

Relief ripples across his soft, boyish features smoothing the lines of worry as it goes.

“You’re all I think about”, he says, studying your face. And you’re left wondering yet again, about his thoughts. His feelings.

“So you trash my apartment?” You sound as gentle as you can. But if you’re honest, you don’t even have to try that hard.

“I lost my job, my partner, my wife left me, and I even lost my sanity because of you.”

With his dulcet touch, he traces along the edge of your lips.

“Fair enough. I think about you too. I mean, I to you masturbate a lot.” You say as your thumb rubs his cheek lightly.

He lets out a loud, embarrassed giggle that makes him look a decade younger.

“Too much?” You ask, apprehensively.

“No, I just wasn’t expecting that.”

And with that you’re both inching closer to each other, like magnets.

Baekhyun’s soft gaze darkens and simultaneously you feel something sharp poking at your stomach.

“You can’t do it”, you wrap your hand around the blade, almost mocking him. He’s too nice for something this abominable.

“I can”, he whispers, his eyes still nestled in yours, as he plunges the blade deeper, tearing you apart. 

He places a chaste, soft kiss on your forehead.

Fear. Despair. Hope.

“Sorry, baby.” 

Continuation - My Lovable Curse

[aizawaslovebot]

soleil et lune.

secretary! shouto todoroki x director/ceo! reader

pronouns: he/him

word count: 1.4k

series masterlist | future chapters available only on quotev

i. new moon

There was something about the contrast of the sun and the moon that deeply intrigued Todoroki.

Perhaps it was the way they rarely seemed to meet, always just a shy minute apart from coexisting together. Maybe it was how one of the other gave way for a moment of spotlight, either to bless the Earth with sunlight or to illuminate the dark sky with moonlight. Maybe it was because people perceive them as lovers who are separated by destiny, forever bound by whatever rules the universe had set.

He never got to the bottom of the reason why he was so enamored with the Romeo and Juliet of the cosmos but whatever it is, Todoroki had to thank it.

It was in these that he found solace, especially during the dark times of his past and childhood.

Shouto Todoroki was not an astronomer in the slightest. Despite his fondness over the stars in the sky or the planets lightyears away, he never took the chance to pursue this career.

Correction: He was never allowed to pursue this career.

In fact, he was not allowed to be anything other than what his father had set for him. Like the sun and moon, he was bound by destiny. But destiny, in Todoroki’s case, was a six-foot, heartless dictator who strived for perfection in everything at the expense of even an ounce of happiness and freedom.

“You are to follow in my footsteps, Shouto. You will continue what I have started and you shall rise over Japan and defeat All Might Corp.”

It was annoying. It was beyond him how his abomination of a father had this kind of mindset. But he had no power over this man. He controlled Shouto’s life.

So Todoroki fell to the same fate of his older siblings; all bound by their destiny as businessmen, inheritors of Japan’s second most successful conglomerate, and joyless lives. He became what society calls as a success— rich and thriving at the early age of 20.

You see, that’s just it.

Society has deemed success as being filthy rich at an early age. The way they measured success is by how young you’re able to afford luxuries, how much green papers you owned, and how famous you could be. They never thought to wonder if these so-called successful people were actually happy with their lives.

Success for Shouto was not about how much bank he could make, or how influential he could become, or how many cars he could afford. Success was finding joy in what you do, regardless of how much money he had. Shouto was far from successful. But he’s hopeful that one day he could achieve the life he wanted, whether his dictator of a father liked it or not.

For now, he is the moon without light to illuminate his dark life.

He is a new moon.

But things will change and the sun will rise again.

“Father, I would like to try secretarial studies,” Shouto brought up one day as the Todoroki family ate quietly in Enji’s mansion.

The clanking of Enji’s utensils rang through the big house, reflecting their father’s emotions. Twitching fingers, cold eyes, and a permanent scowl that seemed to deepen— he was livid.

“That’s absurd, Shouto. I will not allow it.”

“I never asked for your permission. I am taking secretarial whether you like it or not.”

The youngest Todoroki scoffed, retaliating once again from their father’s idiotic ideologies. Fuyumi was silently pleading for Shouto to be careful while the two older brothers were grinning for him to continue.

“You are a Todoroki. We do not serve people. They serve us. Drop this, now.”

“I don’t care what you say. I’ve already decided who to work for.”

Enji chuckled wryly, “and who are you wasting your talents on?”

“The L/N Enterprise”

There are only a few companies and groups that could be hailed as Japan’s best. These include All Might Corporations, Endeavor Inc., and the L/N Empire. Safe to say, these three are the big leagues, the future of Japan’s economy, and the most successful. These three GDP monsters also play in the same field: the music industry. World-known idol groups come from one of the three, and more flock to these companies for a taste of success. Behind these are the business powerhouses: Toshinori Yagi, known as Mr. All Might; and Todoroki Enji, dubbed as Endeavor. Little is known about the L/N CEO, however, what everyone does know is they are geniuses, even in different ways, because they were able to make their names known not only to Japan but the entire world.

Perhaps there are still differences. Unlike the two, the L/N Empire doesn’t only battle in the music industry. Countless branches, including the ever-famous Sumsang tech, come from their conglomerate.

Another factor from All Might and Endeavor Inc. lets the L/N Enterprise stand in the spotlight; the future successor of the entire group, and grandson of the richest man in Japan, is one of the youngest to ever sit on such a high position.

General Manager L/N (Name).

Many people wonder why this young man, who, at the young age of 20, began to dedicate his life to the countless numbers and percentages that come with this life. People his age at the time would’ve rather flaunt to the world of the riches they own, and indulge in such a lavish life that only few could attain.

But not L/N (Name).

He pursued this career that was bestowed upon him by his family and thus, just a short three years later, L/N is on his way to become the youngest Director and hold so much power over the L/N group, over this branch that he manages, and over Japan.

A bigshot at a young age, blessed with not only riches but also looks and intelligence.

If only he also had a good attitude to boot.

There were a lot of hearsays that circulated about the so-called business ace. Maybe it was because they only knew so little of his father that (Name) became the center of attention. People say he’s a womanizer, an arrogant, self-less prick who has an ego bigger than All Might’s height. Some say he was a sleaze and a temperamental individual who explodes at even the smallest of mistakes. People have also heard that the Director was ruthless, and seeing the countless rumors about this made them believe everything.

Enji could even vouch for those rumors. The brat, while he was a family friend, always found a way to talk back to him whenever he’s over for Natsuo. As far as the Todoroki could remember, L/N was in the same age group as Natsuo. He wasn’t really sure, but Enji’s certain that brat is an egotistical prick.

So why the hell did Shouto choose their God forsaken company?

It was beyond Enji, but he’ll let Shouto waste his time for a bit. After all, he could benefit from having an insider for that competition of his.

The object of Enji’s hatred and the famous L/N sneezed so suddenly.

“Endeavor-san must be cursing me again,” He hummed then continued on with his work.

(Name) was in his office, scanning through the proposals submitted by his department, when his temporary secretary knocked on the door.

“Here’s the batch of applications, sir,” She nervously placed the profiles on his desk. Before (Name) could thank her, however, the young secretary zoomed off.

(Name) was looking for a new secretary after his former subordinate was revealed to be a mole for some company. Aside from that, he knew that the assistant was after him, personally, too. She would often flirt and schedule him for dinners with “other people”, only later to reveal that she wanted to eat with him.

Basically, that assistant was a pest.

The flipping of papers came to a halt at one very specific file. Staring right back at (Name) were the familiar heterochromatic pools of blue and silver, as if saying that his attention should be on the young Todoroki.

Well, damn right.

Without so much as a glance at the CV neatly written at the bottom (which (Name) knows is more than qualified), he knew who he wanted by his side.

The new moon slowly transitions into a new beginning.

“Welcome to the L/N Enterprise, Todoroki-san”

—note: hey! hey! hey! this is my first-ever bnha series 👉🏼👈🏼 please send criticism thru ask or dm 🥺❤️ if you guys like it enough to want to be tagged, just ask!! also pls be nice

—aizawaslovebot 2020

[thesunnyshow]

Name: reya

Writing Blog URL(s): @chu-ni

Age: 19

Nationality: african-british

Languages: english, swahili, korean

Star Sign: libra

MBTI: enfp/entp (it always changes lol)

Favorite color: purple!

Favorite food: i really love chicken burgers

Favorite movie: princess and the frog

Favorite ice cream flavor: vanilla!!

Favorite animal: elephants

Go-to karaoke song: fancy - twice

Coffee or tea? What are you ordering? caramel frappe with whipped cream, in general i prefer tea though

Dream job (whether you have a job or not)? secretary general at the UN….or an author

If you could have one superpower, what would you choose? making anyone agree with me and do what i want them to do

If you could visit a historical era, which would you choose? ancient egypt!!

If you could restart your life, knowing what you do now, would you?.....no.

Would you rather fight 100 chicken-sized horses or one horse-sized chicken? neither if i could lmfao but i’d go for 100 chicken sized horses

If you were a trope in a teen high school movie, what would you have been? the nerd who’s actually really pretty after she gets a cool makeover 

Do you believe in aliens/supernatural creatures? im not sure about aliens, but i definitely believe in ghosts and spirits.

What are some small things that make your day better? when i can have moments to myself to enjoy my own company. or when someone asks me what i want to eat and they bring it for me 🥺

Fun fact about yourself that not everyone would know? uhm…...probably the fact that i write fanfiction lol..but outside of that! i sing in the shower. and i talk to myself a lot.

What fandom(s) do you write for? nct dream currently, but in the future i want to expand to other groups!

When did you post your first piece? 17th of June 2018.

Do you write fluff/angst/crack/general/smut, combo, etc? Why? i can never write just one genre. predominantly i write fluff with a dash of angst for spice simply because i love a story that has an issue and then having that issue be resolved for a happy ending. when i started my blog i was 17, and so i said i wouldn't write smut. now that i'm older im feeling more and more comfortable writing suggestive content at the very LEAST.. so maybe in the future i might write smut, who knows? i like writing fluff because i like making people feel good, but i like adding angst to it because i feel like the contrast between the two is very *chefs kiss* to me.

Do you write OCs, X Readers, Ships...etc? i only write x readers!

Why did you decide to write for Tumblr? i first got tumblr when i was 13 years old and i was a fresh kpop fan lmfao. i wanted somewhere that shared my interests. of course i discovered x reader fics on here and i was in awe, i guess of how much power writers had in contributing to fandom content and keeping readers satiated. i’d always loved to write and so i’d always wanted to start my own writing blog, and for 2 years i did write for other blogs! it wasnt until 2018 that i finally took the leap and decided to start my own, because i wanted to impact people's emotions and take them on a journey through my writing.

What inspires you to write? what inspires me….teen movies, music!! music is a big one for me, and also the books that i read. i also grew up playing otome games so the plots and writing from those influence my writing a lot.

What genres/AUs do you enjoy writing the most? i really enjoy writing royalty!aus as well as exes!aus. i love to do them cause they require me to build a world and with royalty aus specifically i love weaving together bits of political intrigue, or arranged marriages, etc. its so much fun!!

What do you hope your readers take away from your work? that if this world is too rough or too much, you can always escape from it. it might not be physical, but immersing yourself in a universe that's entirely different for a little while can help soothe you.

What do you do when you hit a rough spot creatively? usually i try and take breaks. the problem with that is that my breaks can go on for longer than i’d like and im trying to fix that. so my other solution is to read read read!! read as much as i can, or go back to books that i loved. ask myself what i liked about the writing, what are some parts that i thought were amazing examples of good writing - i note them down then see if i can apply that to my own work. another thing i do is take a break from writing my longer, fleshed out works and write blurbs! blurbs are a great way for me to write but not feel like its tedious because i don't have to spend as much time on them and it gets me into the groove of writing without feeling stressed out.

What is your favorite work and why? Your most successful? my favourite piece of work is miscommunication. it took me months to write that, even after i lost all the work halfway through, and its the longest piece of work i have written so far, so its kinda like my baby. my most successful is candy jar. its also the work i owe my blog exposure to - it was the first piece i published, and it was also the first piece of writing i did in around 4 years.

Who is your favorite person to write about? i don't have much out for them, but i really enjoy exploring mark’s and jeno’s characters. they're people, but in my work i enjoy analysing them and judging how they’d act in different contexts.

Do you think there’s a difference between writing fanfiction vs. completely original prose? the only difference for me is that fanfiction (depending on the fandom) has some of the stuff fleshed out for you already, such as the world its in. if youre the type to write AUs then the only thing you already have is the characters - the planning, the writing, the drafting, and everything else is still the writer's responsibility. therefore there isn't much of a difference between the two for me.

What do you think makes a good story?  a good story, to me, is one that takes me on a journey. it could be any genre, but i like to feel immersed and connected to the characters and the world in it. also aside from the obvious, like good grammar, a good story feels natural to read. i don't feel like skim reading half of it.

What is your writing process like? my writing process consists of me getting inspiration - usually from a song, or a film or a book ive read or a game ive played - i note down my idea and who i want the story to be about, and then bullet point the whole story, with some snippets of particular dialogue i want the reader or the other person to say at certain scenes. i then open another document ( i have a writing app on my phone, called werdsmith, so i use that!) and set a word count goal i want to hit so i can track my progress and start writing the fic, with fleshed out language and exposition. when im done (usually after a couple weeks up to a few months, depends on the length of the plan) i read through it to fix any mistakes, then i transfer it to docs so i can read it again and italicise any areas i feel need it.

Would you ever repurpose a fic into a completely original story? i...don't think so. mainly because the original fiction i read and would like to write for myself is predominantly fantasy, whereas the fanfic i write on my blog is usually non-idol, normal fics. 

What tropes do you love, and what tropes can’t you stand? im a SUCKER for enemies to lovers, royalty ofc, “and they were roommates”, and i think superhero aus are really cool but there isnt enough of them :( idol/you as member aus....not feeling her… also abo/werewolf/vampire aus….not feelin em

How much would you say audience feedback/engagement means to you? a LOT. a HUGE amount!! i said before how i like giving my readers somewhere where they can immerse themselves as an escape, even for a short while. hearing about how my work affected them, made them feel, makes me feel less insecure about what im writing and thus more confident to publish it.

What has been one of the biggest factors of your success (of any size)? i’d say reblogs. and also putting out more content. when i first uploaded candy jar i went to my one of my favourite writers (jaeminlore) and asked her if she'd be okay with reading it and giving feedback. to my surprise she loved it and her reblogging it to all her followers is literally what gave me a bunch of followers all of a sudden who loved what i’d written. to keep that momentum i created more and more content, and while i haven't uploaded as often as i've wanted to or written as much as i’d wanted to, i can say i have a good amount of work on my masterlist for people who are looking for more to read.

Do you think fanfic writers get unfairly judged? 100%. fanfic has an unfair reputation for just having bad writing and cringey fics (and i feel like this is because of the way society views the demographics who predominantly consume and create it), when in reality i feel like those who write fanfiction are extremely talented and selfless people. they're on the internet creating content for free for people to enjoy and like any other work of art they're putting time and effort into it. i think it should be respected. any form of art is going to have its good and bad sides.

Do you think art can be a medium for change? hmmm….yes. i feel it can be a way to reflect the thoughts of people and also be a way to inspire people to do more.

Do you ever feel there are times when you’re writing for others, rather than yourself? sometimes. sometimes i feel like i'm forcing myself to write because i feel like if i don't then people will forget about me or they’ll forget about my blog. while what i choose to write about is for me, i feel like the speed of my writing and what im writing isn't to the quality i want it to be cause i feel like i gotta get it out for people to read.

Do you ever feel like people have misunderstood you or your writing at times? i've never felt that way!

Do your offline friends/loved ones know you write for Tumblr? only 2 of my friends know, and i only told them like. a week ago!

What is one thing you wish you could tell your followers? i wish you guys would message me more! i'm quite a sociable person, and i’d love to have regular anons who talk to me 👉🏽👈🏽

Do you have any advice for aspiring writers who might be too scared to put themselves out there? i think one common thing amongst all writers is that we write what we want to read. so don't feel like nobody's gonna read your work, cause somebody will. you gotta act like your work is top tier even if someone says it isn't - always write the best you can, and just do it! like don't even give yourself time to overthink it, write that fic, make it look pretty, upload it onto tumblr and do not be afraid to ask your favourite fic writers to read your work once its up!! i’d be happy to read and give feedback for any fic writers as well so don't feel afraid! 

Are there any times when you regret joining Tumblr? ive been on here for 7 years….i grew up on this site lmfao. but i don't think i regret joining tumblr once.

Do you have any mutuals who have been particularly formative/supportive in your Tumblr journey? shes not very active anymore and i miss her very much but user hyuck-s was so supportive and i love her!!

Pick a quote to end your interview with:

she believed she could, so she did.

BONUS ROUND: K-POP CONFIDENTIAL 

[sparda3g]

Gintama Chapter 703 Review

This chapter is amazing. I don’t need to review it; just leave it like that and you already know why. Joking aside (not really), what is there to say about it? It’s not the chapter I thought I wanted, but it’s the chapter I didn’t think I needed. It’s Gintama at its finest in its serious tone. It’s the finale that surpassed the last Utsuro battle. It’s the finale that surpassed my expectation, and trust me, it was pretty high. It’s the finale that the fans will forever remember.

Right from the beginning, it’s a knee-jerking experience with a sheer amount of intensity in the air. Gintoki and Utsuro are not even fighting, yet I got goosebumps just reading their dialogues. Speaking of which, Utsuro continue to be the most sinister villain in a long time for Shounen Jump. I know it’s technically not part of it anymore, but it did spawn from it. The point is, Utsuro is intimidating as always, drawing the aura of sinister that have outsmarted everyone.

He retells the whole story on why and how all the events led to this moment, in case if you are confused. Above all, it does add the shivering feeling because of how right he was about everything. The line about the path makes a callback, which makes me happy, because I reflect this many times before on how important his words were. That means I didn’t overthink it; Sorachi acknowledged it. Also, it adds more to the theme of Silver Soul; a necessary conflict to challenge. Lastly and more importantly, it adds more to Gintoki’s character; a man who can’t escape the tragic path that happened to repeat itself. It’s a mad world.

The showdown between the two have been on-point and stellar, and they haven’t yet to attack to make it so. Even Gintoki grasping his sword got me chills; that’s how unnerving it is. He may have gone through hell, but he will forever keep his words with his friends. No matter what happens, they will find their way to regroup. The conversation is so compelling. It doesn’t resort to power of friendship in blatant terms. All of their words felt meaningful because it relates perfectly to their characters. Those words about Takasugi made me feel so good, but it ultimately segue to a twist to Utsuro’s own game.

The twist is great because it finally put Utsuro in his own mind game, and rightfully deserved. It turns out that he was the one lying down and Shouyo was never there. It was confusing, of course, but the explanation is pretty rewarding. We last saw him about to kill Shouyo, but it actually never went through. He was stopped by Oboro because his blood was also consumed. This makes sense, especially when we just learned about how everything works. Not only that, but it’s even better with him being the one to stop. How can Sorachi make a dead guy, who was once a villain, become so likable in after life? That’s amazing.

I got so gleeful when Gintoki takes the role of a tyrant, looking down on Utsuro. It’s like I have foodgasm without taking a bite. The mind game on Utsuro is awesome; that line delivery about what he sees is superb. Takasugi stabbed himself rather than on Shouyo; that commitment cannot be broken. Gintoki’s strike is so well earned, along with the parallel. To recap, Shouyo is saved (for now) and he’s going to be helped by Yorozuya. Those moments were stellar enough, the next scene is downright masterful, but it comes with a heavy price.

It’s really tough to choose the best scene of this chapter. It’s interchangeable to me. Regardless, the next scene is perhaps the moment I never expected. I was so hung on the idea that the final battle must be explosive, literally or not, tons of action, and a solid storytelling. Maybe because plenty of writers thought bigger means better. That is not the case, and that’s a great thing. What the fans get and thankfully understand the nature and premise, is a wonderful climatic end.

Just before the final exchange, there’s one more conversation; preparing you for the greatness. The bone-chilling feeling that I have comes from Gintoki posing like a true Samurai, ready to fight. That cold stare only increase the chill factor. Utsuro’s words are hurtful, especially when he more or less guilt tripping Gintoki. Words about losing a master and a friend; those are stabbing to the heart pain. The narrative is whether the end path for Gintoki will forever be an empty void. Shouyo is saved, but will Takasugi be saved as well? The answer is yes; just not what you’re hoping for.

It’s badass enough for Gintoki to pose as a Samurai; it’s even more so when he doesn’t move at all to all of Utsuro’s hit. None of them connects; he stands as he knows he will never be empty. The ones he wanted to protect are right there, in his soul. That panel with Takasugi preventing Utsuro’s attacks is pure awesome. That’s friendship at its best. The next scene…is mesmerizing. Everything is impactful for one main reason: the storytelling. If Utsuro was just himself, it would have been pretty cool, but that would be the end of it. It would have been a high-five victory only. However, this is Takasugi’s body, so the story has changed. It’s a heartbreaking story that will pain the fans. It’s a tragic story that must be done. And I love it.

I love every single panel. It’s all one-sided, but it’s incredible. Much like how One Punch Man is brilliant at one-hit gag, this is brilliant at finishing the fight in a one-sided beat down with a crushing soul. I love how every hit slowly eats Gintoki’s calmness, closing in to kill Utsuro, but above all, kill his best friend. The memories begin to surface, causing me to feel the agony. I can’t do it justice here, but it’s simply gorgeous. My favorite part is the sword reflection. No matter what happens, no matter if Takasugi has to die, the reflection shows true color: he is proud of Gintoki. This is unfair. I don’t want to cry.

The way how it was paneled is amazing. It is an emotional roller coaster and each passing panel draws closer to sad fate. It aches me when it zooms in Gintoki’s eyes; understanding the pain he has to go through, but it has to be done. That roar as he holds Takasugi’s sword is chilling. The sad part is, I wanted to cheer and celebrate, but instead, I found myself pleading to stop. The double page spread says it all; epic but heartbreaking. The deed is done. I love Utsuro’s end as he truly learned the lesson as he dies; the lesson of humanity staying strong in the soul. It speaks well to his character and it’s better than simply meet people with strong willpower. It’s a great moral that captured the theme. I honestly didn’t do justice on the scene, but it’s one I often go back dozens and dozens of time; no exaggeration.

The scene with Yorozuya and Shouyo is something I thought I would never see, but undoubtedly welcoming. It makes completely sense for them to interact; it’s simply the past meet the present. It also works out well to give Shouyo a better light that his action has its upbringing and that is giving Gintoki the life he has. The panels with Gintoki looking down at Takasugi with a line about saving or protecting is quite telling. It’s very fitting for Shinpachi to be the one to thank Shouyo for meeting Gintoki. Who knows what would have happened instead if they didn’t meet. It’s such a nice moment of two generations bonding. Now, here comes the hardest part.

I wasn’t so sure what to prepare for, but it’s not the writing fault. It’s me hoping for a quick asspull or something people despise in Shounen genre. The series may be at the end, but to see a very popular character to die is hard to accept. Rarely that happens. Maybe, Takasugi would receive the Sasuke treatment, even if it was bull crap. Sadly, Sorachi doesn’t play that way. In short, this is it; pay respect one last time.

It’s as everything you can expect; it’s downright sad. I find it morbid to think the wins and losses count was a huge indication for their end. It was designed for one to receive the win to decide it all, but at a price of a life. Not like this. Even so, it’s touching that Gintoki doesn’t want the victory, even if Takasugi finds it pity. I love their last share of conversation, talking about how they were bitter with each other since youth, but they could have been best of friends. Scratch that; they always have been. What hurts me the most is the fact Takasugi had lived in the past for so long and what could have been show plenty of possibilities; but his death means it wasn’t meant to be. If that’s not tragic, I don’t know what is.

When I read the chapter’s title, I was speculating that it could mean a good thing. Technically, I was right, but not like this. Sorachi truly knows how to make something simple, complex, small, or large absolute meaningful, and by God, this is no exception. Takasugi’s left eye’s final vision was the tear of his best friend. The right should see Gintoki as the man he knows very well; the man he can called an eternal rival. That’s his final wish, and Gintoki grants that with a smile. The eye slowly closes; God, it’s hard. He vowed to get his win one day in Hell, and Takasugi will be waiting.

He’s gone. Gintoki cries. Powerful. Simply powerful.

Everything from this scene, let alone the chapter, was masterful. I don’t know how my face looked like, but I know my eyes were watery. Let me tell you, listening to Unravel acoustic was a massive mistake. It had me pouring. You can complain all you want about not wanting to end, but if it result to this pure quality, why fight it? This is what the fans truly deserved. Not exactly killing a beloved character, but the top level of writing that one would say, “It’s been 84 years.” I know it’s a joke, but I have to lighten up after this. The next chapter will be the last. By all means, end it. We are satisfied enough.

This chapter will go down as the best of the series; most likely the best I have read this year. It will likely to have the best ending in a long time. I am seriously considering to buy all volumes in one sweep. There’s no need to repeat on why this chapter is the best. You read it and you’ll know it. If only this was posted in a magazine; I will buy it in a heartbeat. Here’s to the final chapter. Takasugi won’t be here next time, but the soul will go on forever.

Rest in Peace, Takasugi.

[wisdomrays]

Chastity of Thoughts

QUESTION: Could you please elucidate the phrases “purity of ideas” or “chastity of thoughts” which you draw upon from time to time?

ANSWER: Thought and action are the two most important dynamics that show us the way to truly exist, help us stay as ourselves in the face of fierce storms, and help us change ourselves in the progressive sense. Although thought in its general meaning comes before actions, a certain thought with its intricate and detailed meanings develops within the very process of (putting it into) action. That is, a person can concentrate on a certain subject first, give much thought to it, and try to fathom it correctly. However, only after putting the issue into real life practice will one gain further insight into it, accept and accommodate themselves to it, and found it on a sound basis. This is because implementing what one has thought about will make one face some new situations which will, in turn, lead to deeper thoughts on the issue, and thus the general ideas at the beginning will rest upon unshakable grounds. So be it in a general context or a specific one with lots of details, the most important essential we need to pursue in all of our intentions and thoughts is “purity of ideas.” In this respect, we need to remain faithful to the purity of ideas, seeing it as part of our very character, and protect it under our wings against all odds.

Sound thoughts produce sound conduct

It is possible that some people may adopt negative opinion and attitudes toward us, but others’ wrong attitudes should never lead us to reflect back a similar sort of attitude. Wherever we stand with respect to our essential values, we need to stand our ground against all odds. Otherwise, once our thoughts and feelings begin to waver according to others’ attitudes and behaviors, the wavering will continue and eventually take us off the righteous course. What we need to do, however, is not even let others distract and keep us busy—let alone taking us off course—and try to keep away from every kind of influence that might serve as a provocative factor against our course and our stream of thought. We should know that the real purpose of provocations is to avert the volunteers devoted to high ideals from their path and make them change course, not with the purpose of achieving something else but for achieving this very end.

For this reason, representatives of sound thinking should never change in the face of the inconsistent and baseless claims made by others—of course with the exception of making legal claims by appealing and refuting in order to protect one’s reputation against defamation and using their lawful right to sue them for slander and other violation of rights—and always try to keep up their purity and innocence. We need to think straight at all the times so that the actions we are to build on those thoughts are right and straight. Otherwise, if we move away to one side with every storming wind, we might lose track, fall to other trails, becoming adrift in the end.

Those who think positively take delight in their lives

The Messenger of God, peace and blessings be upon him, once stated that a believer’s silence should be reflection (tafakkur) and his speaking should be wisdom.” Taking this radiant statement into consideration, we can say that thinking, imagining, and shooting for good things will be counted as worship for a believer. Even though busying ourselves with seemingly impossible thoughts normally means wasting our energy, if a person cherishes a wish to transform the color and pattern of the world into a more beautiful and vivid one, I think even the dreams and imaginings of that person will take on a hue of worship. Thus, what befalls on believers is to become oriented to such beautiful considerations and lead their lives accordingly. In one of the epigrams at the end of The Letters, Bediüzzaman states: “Those who attend to the good side of everything contemplate the good; those who contemplate the good enjoy life.” Therefore, someone’s turning his life into a delightful melody and spending his life as if he were walking through the corridors of Paradise depends on his thinking beautifully. However, one’s thoughts also could take people to negative ways, such as hedonism and bohemianism, unless he uses it in a positive way. Also, even imaginings and conceptions that are not channeled toward goodness can make one face such negativities. For this reason, believers must continuously be preoccupied with thoughts that take root in their values, overflow with them, continuously read and think, and feed on their essential sources without leaving any voids in their life. At the same time, they must give their willpower its due to such an extent that they always remain close to the feelings and thoughts that are not granted a visa by their pure conscience. If they are prone to negative winds in spite of all their efforts, they should—as advised by the Messenger of God—try to free themselves from that atmosphere immediately. Otherwise, a person who sets sail into dreams that might corrupt the purity of his mind sometimes may go too far and not have the opportunity to return to the shore (of safety). Therefore, if one does not control the feelings of grudge, hatred, vengeance, and lust, they might break down barriers and thereby cause them to take wrong decisions and commit evil acts. One must give their willpower its due on one hand and ask protection from God on the other. Those who can achieve this will lead their lives in a greenhouse of Divine protection. But still one should never forget that even the most upright people might topple over, and thus we must never give up our vigilance. When we stumble and lose our balance, we must turn to our Lord and ardently pray like our forefather Prophet Adam did: “Our Lord! We have wronged ourselves, and if You do not forgive us and do not have mercy on us, we will surely be among those who have lost” (al-A’raf 7:23) then straighten up, and turn toward Him again.

Desires and fancies in guise of ideas

Another point to raise in terms of chastity of thoughts is that there is always the possibility of desires and fancies masquerading as ideas to misguide a person. The touchstone to distinguish desires and fancies from true ideas is the religious criteria. For example, if you feel enraged when someone’s words and attitudes bother you, you first need to determine whether there is anything that goes against the Truth. If this is not the case, it means that you are getting angry in the name of your carnal self, which shows that the angered reaction stems from personal desires and fancies. The criterion to use in the face of evil as decreed in the Qur’an is to “repel evil with what is better (or best)” (Fussilat 41:34). Accordingly, if someone does evil to you, the primary response towards him or her must be a smiling face intended to defuse the intensity of their strong dislike and malice. But if the evil in question is directly related to sacred values or public interest, as an individual, we do not have the right to forgive his or her act; one can only forgive and show tolerance towards violations against his or her personal rights. God Almighty did not assign anybody as a substitute authorized to forgive violations of His rights. No one should dare make such claims, which are clearly disrespectful of God’s rights.

Getting back to our main subject, desires and fancies with no sound base sometimes present themselves in the guise of ideas and try to misguide people, in cooperation with the devil and our carnal soul. One might commit certain wrongs in consequence. You can clearly see this on some debate programs where people try to outwit one another. As if they are fixed on controversy, they always try to say the opposite of what the people before them say, not caring whether it is right or wrong. Let us suppose that one of the people with whom such a person argues says, “Now I am going to show you, by God’s grace and permission, a way directly leading to Paradise.” If the gates of Paradise miraculously and suddenly appear wide open before him and enable him to see the wonderful blessings beyond imagination, he will still say, “No, we do not want to enter Paradise. We are trying to win here, and you are trying to stop us and push us to inactivity.” That is, such a person will try to respond with demagogy even against the most plausible words and thoughts. Such words actually stem from one’s desires and fancies and are uttered under the influence of the devil. However, people mistake all of them as stemming from their own thoughts and ideas.

Sometimes, people from among believers can also fall for this trap of the devil and carnal soul. When you ask help from such a person, he might say that he needs to stay where he is so that he can guide many others, attempting to hide his desire for spending more time with his family and enjoying worldly life under the guise of altruism. However, a sincere believer burns with a desire for reunion with God, overflows with a desire for meeting the noble Prophet, and wishes to sit at the table of the Rightly Guided Caliphs and share their atmosphere. In spite of these feelings, a sincere believer watches his step and says: “My God, I do not know whether I served my time in this world or not. Therefore, I am afraid of committing disrespect towards You.” The conscience is a very important reference point here. For this reason, one must always judge the words one utters with his or her conscience and seek its righteous counseling at every choice and decision made. If someone can achieve this, he or she will be saved from confusing fancies with guidance and carnal desires with commonsense.

[pinkletterday]

Writer's Year In Review

This year has been a revelation. I went from deeply, irrevocably believing I can't write fiction at all to knowing that I'm actually pretty good at it!

It's given me the confidence to find work as a freelance writer and editor in real life, after years of unemployment and anxious paralysis resulting from chronic illness and trauma. A lot of other factors also helped but the fic writing played a huge role in getting my shit together.

General Fic Stats:

Word Count on AO3: 92284

Fics posted to AO3: 23

Favourite Fic:

Kiss It Better (Westallen).This fic is my baby. I love little Iris and little Barry in it so much, the hurt and confusion in each other they attempted to heal, how that healing carried into their adult love and family. It will always and always be my favourite thing I have ever written. Wee!stallen is my jam, and the reason I ship them so damn hard.

Do Not Go Gentle (Westallen). Ngl, I love this for the sheer amount of truly gratifying comments. Every single one of them have been emotional and flaily. It all makes me feel like I may have finally levelled up. Hallelujah. xD

Funniest Fic:

The Care and Feeding (Queenwestallen). This is my ultimate OT3. This fic, written as a list and discussion is 95% humour and contains some of my best banter and (I feel) characterization. An element I'm really proud of is how I managed to center and include all their important non-romantic relationships in their conversations. Iris's boisterous female friends, Oliver's friends, Cisco and Caitlin's snarky commentary all shoehorned themselves into the list with hilarious and wholesome results. 

It's not a popular OT3 but I feel like it's a good first attempt to drag this ship to water. xD

Cutest Fic:

Dancing Queen (Olivarry). Even after a year this contiues to be the fic with the highest kudos ratio (except for the more recent one) and the second most bookmarked. I love getting comments on this because they are all some variation of "my teeth hurt. I have diabetes!" xD Well, I did build it around a rainbow sprinkle icing sugar donut, but there is a significant dollop of angst there in the middle. A flangst donut.

Your Vigil In My Keeping (Westallen). This fic has less than 200 hits but has the highest kudos ratio of all. I guess kid fic isn't everyone's cup of tea, but Wee!stallen is cute af yo. I headcanon the origins of Barry and Iris's steadfast partnership in this story, where her faith and belief in him is as strong as his protectiveness of her, all tied up in the language and innocence of children.

Kinkiest Fic:

WA Smut and Kink Collection. I literally just posted this yesterday lol. So far it's just a face-sitting short, but I have quite a few hard and soft kinks lined up. Westallen needs more hard smut tbh, and they have such a unique powerfully loving dynamic that every kink I'm writing has required me to come at it a little bit sideways with a whole lot of emotional focus.

Saddest Fic:

Three fics I can't choose from.

Do Not Go Gentle (Westallen). This is basically Iris's grief and fear in a raging tempest, and it's strongly implied that the future Nora has warned them of will come to pass regardless of what they do. The fact is that there already is and will be a timeline where Iris loses Barry, just as there must be one where she won't, because that is the nature of potentiality. 

The Paradigm of Uncertainty (Westallen). This was a drabble almost, that ruminates on the probability that speedsters do not erase timelines but abandon them, along those versions of their loved ones. It's as @rkwago's brilliant comment says: "Iris hurts in so many weird, cosmic ways that her life is almost an eldritch horror house," which is the most perfect description ever of what it means to be a time traveller's wife.

The Universal Constant (Gen, background WA). A lot of people find the way Barry goes off on Joe cathartic in this fic, and so do I. But it's not so simple. I don't think Joe was wrong to form the views he did, or that anyone was in the wrong really. As @sophiainspace pointed out, it's a mediation of grief and love, their parallels and continuations between parents and children and lovers. The fact that it takes Henry's death for Barry to find the adult language to articulate to Joe why he will always believe in his father's innocence is a tragedy that cuts three ways.

(This fic is also the reason I have a folder in my drive marked "how to get away with murder" and probably a likely reason to get me arrested one day. xD)

Most Popular Fic:

Strangers In The Cold (Coldflash). The Coldflash fandom is a joy to feed. This was my first smut fic which was preceded by an entire chapter of banter about nothing in particular (except it ended up establishing a background that gave birth to the Coldflash vs Olivarry polyam series) And holy wow, for a newbie writer, the response has been amazing. Looking back, I wince at a lot of writing mistakes and its undeniably rough, but it really bolstered my confidence.

(I feel a little guilty that all my other CF stories are still in my WiP folder while I update the polyam series at snail's pace.)

The Shape of Us (Westallen). I wrote this on tumblr half-asleep one night, half as a rambly headcanon...and woke up to literally one hundred freaking notes. What the hell. Now at over 260, it's the most popular fic I've ever posted on tumblr.

I never consciously intended it to be a body-positivity fic but apparently women really relate to the insecurities of growing older and watching our bodies change with marriage, children and the sheer hectic pace of life. Even my non-fandom friends reblogged it simply for its representation of "real women". Barry's response is my own wish fulfillment fantasy; the sort of total acceptance and validation that we wish we could hear it the times we can't find it in ourselves. In light of the virulent body-shaming Candice Patton has been subjected to ever since she was revealed to have gained a fuller figure in S5, I'm very glad to have written it.

Least Popular Fic:

Carry On (Gen) This character study of Oliver Queen only has 135 hits a year after posting, which is par for the course with gen. But has a solid 12% kudos ratio, which means it's probably as good as I think it is. It's one of my favourite and easiest fics I have ever written.

Love Me Like You Do (Olivarry) Lordy, if my first Coldflash smut filled me with confidence, my first Olivarry smutfic all but ruined it. I struggled with it for a long time, unlike SitC, which I suppose shows in the over-descriptions. I got carried away with the quipping and I guess Barry topping at all is really not popular with slash fans?

Still, I'm honestly toying with the idea of deleting and rewriting it. At least it was a learning experience - don't write smut unless it makes you feel horny yourself.  

Most Challenging Fic:

Do Not Go Gentle (Westallen). I think the reason stories you knock off in two hours are instantly popular while the ones you slaved over for weeks barely get any attention is because the process is reflected in the ease of reading. But this one is an exception. It was an absolute monster, taking three weeks and several revisions to wrestle into submission - and it paid off in spades!  Going by the response, I seem to have achieved the wow factor I was going for.

My only regret is that I posted it on tumblr before the last revision that finally made it work, so that too many readers saw the lacklustre version rather than the polished one.

Honorable Mention:

A Stitch In Time (Olivarry for now, eventual Queenwestallen) Baby's first multi-chapter! Admittedly chapters 3 and 4 have been languishing in my drive for a few months now and this thing has 100% more deleted scenes and outtakes posted to my tumblr than the actual story on AO3. But I'm so proud of it! I learned to write action scenes because of it, how to write climaxes, dream sequences, news articles and tell a story in several different formats. It made me rediscover my empathy for Felicity and write her as a PoV character, think deeply on Laurel Lance's losses and give voice to her struggles, and explore how a real friendship and understanding could evolve between Oliver and Iris out of their mutual love for Barry. (Centering female characters within manpain narratives, ftw! Otoh, I centered Iris so much it veered off the Olivarry rails into Queenwestallen territory on its own)

There is so much meaty conflict and delicious looming disaster in this story that I'm determined going to keep at it, even if slow and steady. If only to bring the light of Barry/Iris/Oliver into the world. xD

Holding On (Olivarry). This real-world disability AU deals with chronic and mental illness and the precariousness and personal demons of that reality. I tore out the rawest parts of my life for this fic and put them on display so that I couldn't bear to show it to anyone for a year after it was written.

I'm very glad I did finally brush it off and put it up because it has struck a chord with so many people, especially other Spoonies. The low number of hits on a fic that deals in hurt/comfort rather stings, as I can't help but think the disinterest is because of the "disability" and "neurodivergence" tags. But I still think it's one of the best things I've written and one I'll always be proudest of.

General Reflections:

Things I've learned over the past year of writing:

- Self-deprecation is not my friend. I need to be honest enough with myself to acknowledge when my writing is good, because either I self-validate and build confidence or I become a black hole of insecurity where validation goes to die. And if I think I'm a bit better than I actually am, it's not just okay but necessary to believe it.

- What I call writer's block is perfectionism, anxiety and physical and mental fatigue. If I don't eat, sleep, hydrate and acheive a relaxed mental state, I won't be able to write. 

- Momentum is more my friend than any amount of inspiration and motivation. Sitting my ass down and make it a habit to churn out X number of words a day, even bad writing, will do more to help me than polishing an idea to a high shine. 

- If I don't forgive myself for the stories I can't write I'll never write anything. I am doing this for free, to share the love and joy and therefore obligated to no one. 

- I'm capable of writing things I don't have the first idea how to write. My fingers on a keyboard can paint the picture my brain can't visualize. 

I don't believe in New Year's resolutions, but I am going to make it a personal goal to write at least 15k words per month, learn to stick to a posting schedule where possible.  and end next year with an additional 150k words posted. 

To everyone who follows this blog, commented, reblogged and liked my posts - I see and remember and appreciate every one of you. You're the reason I feel seen and valued and why I am motivated to keep writing through all the difficulties life throws at me. <3<3<3

[eallisnwndrlnd]

Moving On From 2018

One thing I can say that I love about New Years is that it’s like life feels like it gave you a bit of a reset button. Not erasing anything but at least working towards improving what you did or didn’t do the past year. I definitely need that reset for this past year 2018. 

Most of the year was in a bit of a stressful blur. I’m not going to bother reflecting on my previous New Years post since most of what I had hoped to come into fruition didn’t. All I can say is despite my battle with my depression and anxiety being the major factor in my stressed out year, I managed to accomplish some things. May not have been most of what I had planned but hey, that’s life sometimes. 

This past 2018 I completed my 3rd year, completed my internship hours and my first semester of my last school year in college. 

Even if I didn’t get in any of the companies I may have wished for my internship, I was lucky to find a company where I had a chance to utilize my skills and creativity in my writing and photography. It was pretty stressful initially when I was not getting any response from any of the fifteen companies I applied to. Thankfully it all worked out in the end. I even had fun and made it feel like a vacation with a classmate that became roommate and friend. I was feeling less claustrophobic when I was in our shared apartment in BGC, Taguig, away from the many reasons for my stress and anxiety. I was able to let myself forget about it at least during those short two months during break. 

Going straight into the start of 4th year with unresolved issues and things that needed to be done, my stress and anxiety kicked into overdrive as schoolwork and personal issues at home gradually stacked up against me. By the end of the semester I was completely wound tight and sensitive as hell where I felt at any moment I could break. There were some close calls close to the end that’s for sure. Especially with some family drama that nearly buried me in an emotional quicksand. I ended up breaking down in front of my teacher for thesis because I thoroughly let myself down on that one. I was in no shape to complete it in time for the scheduled defense that was a few weeks ago. When it all comes down to it, no one is harder on me than myself. I put the high expectations on me and when I don’t meet them or make a mistake or complete it short of perfection, I dwell on it to no end. Then there was the matter of film and theatre class, where if I were back home, I may have enjoyed and been extremely enthusiastic about but alas due to my poor fluency in Tagalog I wasn’t able to truly be a part of the major projects we had to complete. I ended up taking roles that were so far away from what I really wanted to contribute but as the stories were in a language and culture that I still didn’t fully understand, I was in no way able to contribute in the way I would have wanted to anyway.(One of the brighter spots of film was being able to share some of my favorite films of all time and also participate in our groups documentary on a Badjao community despite being in pain and sick more than half the time. Seeing and meeting some of the people with their strength and courage and determination despite their hardships, really helps one put things in perspective.) With the organizations I am a part of, even if I had a minor role in all three, I still didn’t feel up to the task. I really kind of played dead dog for most of my responsibilities in ISO. 

Honestly, this semester and even last semester, I felt myself ever so slightly detach from everything and kind of just mechanically go through the motions just managing to barrel through out of sheer need to complete my four years in college, do well and graduate. This semester is the first time in over four years where I found myself nearly having an anxiety attack. Not once, but three times. Once during debate when my brain refused to memorize my speech and then I fucked up completely during the recitation for my midterms. (I’m just thankful that my written speech helped me pick my grade up for that. Writer I may be, but speaker I sorely am not) It didn’t help that I still get a bit of stage fright every once in a while. Then the second was when my cousin messaged me about my mother having a schizophrenic episode and that it was causing drama and issues. The third one was during one of our theatre rehearsals and that one had no initial trigger except my stupid bronchitis that refused to go away that came out of a cold that has lasted frakking forever. Toss in several emotional breakdowns and smoking a ciggy after three years ciggy free and I could say I was down for the count. These past holidays of Thanksgiving and then Christmas were kind of meh considering I was sick for the first one and ma and I both were sick for the latter. But I pretty much had been sick on and off all this past semester and throw in my fibromyalgia kicking in worse than its been in the past four years, bringing spasms of pain that brought me to tears and bouts of insomnia this entire past year, 2018 brought more pain in more ways than one than anything else. I’m just thankful my ma, pop and family and friends (and my possessed cat, Gandalf) are still healthy and those that aren’t so much are on the road to being so, hopefully soon. 

This new year 2019 is hopefully the year where I finally meet one of my lifetime goals of graduating and getting a college degree. After so much work and sacrifice not only from me but my parents, I need to reach that goal. I will be starting my fourth year second semester at the end of this month but before that hopefully will have completed our final film and theatre projects as well as getting some traction in completing my thesis that is now not a solo one as I included three classmates to be a part of it. At the end of the day, even if I had wanted my thesis, that I started with on my own, to be solely mine, I had to consider my health both mentally and physically which became the deciding factor in no longer trying to push myself in such a way that would’ve hurt me rather than help. As I near graduation, I will set out in determining what I want to do afterwards. Whether I stay here (that’s only if I get an opportunity down the road) or go back to the States or go to another country has yet to be determined. If I were to go back to the States, I’d then have to decide which state I’d be moving to. Or rather, WE would be moving to. We as in me and mother. Yes, my mom is a big factor in my decision. She has to be, there’s no point deluding myself that I would be comfortable with any other scenario. I’ve watched over that woman pretty much all my life and have been a sort of parent-like person for her since I was a kid. As she grows older and goes deeper into her schizophrenia and becomes more fragile, I cannot in my heart think of any other alternative other than keeping her with me. It’s not some martyrdom complex or anything like that, it’s just how I am wired. Even with all my issues and the mental, emotional and physical toll it has taken on me, I love my mom and she brought me up the best way she knew how or could do. I can’t fault her for her illness and I can’t ignore the fact that she needs me as much as I need to know she is ok...as ok as she is capable of being. I may gripe and such but let’s face it, these are the cards I was dealt and I’ve managed all this time somehow and I’m pretty sure as I get older and wiser I’ll get better and better at doing so. But for the most part I can say I’m at peace with my decision (even when a tiny voice inside my head screams at me WTF are you thinking!!! HEEELP MEEE!) Now I’m just torn between should I stay or should I go (now. ....sorry had to. As I was typing those words I was singing it dammit!!!) And if I go, go where exactly? What do I do with my cat? How tf am I getting the beloved furry pain in my butt to come with me? What best fits not only my needs but my mothers and (if my furbaby is coming) Gandalf? New York? (That’s expensive AF) San Francisco? (SAME! but but SWEATER WEATHER LOVE!!!) L.A. (I’m not gonna lie, my home city is the last choice on my short list) Seattle? (perhaps but can my ma stand the so called gloomy weather which I am partial to?) S.A. (STOP! HAULT! DO NOT GO THERE! Though I have many fond memories and do love the city in many ways including my family and friends..and cheaper rent per square foot...and delicious bbq...I just can’t...cuz politics, namely its states’ politics. I’m pretty sure they wouldn’t want my tree hugging, In-N-Out loving ass either anyhow.) I guess I can only say We’ll see. As I get closer to the end of my fourth year I’ll be more sure of which direction I’d want to go but so many things can still happen from now to then so I just want to leave myself open to any possibility that I may not have even thought of. 

So besides all that ‘off to the future I go’ crap, lets see...what do I want to see myself accomplish this year. I...

Must read more books (last year was depressing af for my bookwormish self as I only read three books, actually technically two were only completed in 2018 but I started in 2017. Now that’s sad for someone who used to down one to two books a day and read as she walked) 

Must get rid of more of my shit (I actually have been slowly accomplishing this little by little but seeing as it is nearing the end of my time at UB I must do this in its entirety by the middle of the year.) 

Must write at least one script of my own and complete it. (I have a few synopsis ideas written down, I just need to sit my butt down and make it a full story) 

Hope to go to Tokyo, Australia, New Zealand, Thailand and again to South Korea. (At least Tokyo I hope for this year) 

Must lose the weight I gained only during this past semester. (I can only fit my rollies into two of my jeans and both have holes, one was bought that way and the other lost the battle with a tricycle and a school chair) 

Must cook more (I actually have been little by little doing just that, thanks to Instagram people who post recipes that motivate my lazy ass into wanting to cook what’s in the picture.) 

Must regularly volunteer again(Unfortunately I haven’t taken much time to do any since I’ve been here. Hopefully once my workload at school eases I can finally take the time to do this. It’s one of the things I love doing with my time because it’s the time when I can do something that isn’t for me but for someone else which I guess in a way is also for me in the sense that it just makes me feel good.) 

Must explore more of the Philippines (hopefully after I graduate we can do this) 

Hope to get to Guru level on Gurushots (only need to mark off four more of the criteria to get there) 

Hope to learn a third language (I’m thinking either Spanish or Korean since I at least know some vocabulary and short phrases already. The fact that I would love to be able to watch my kdramas without subtitles definitely gives me the incentive to lean toward the latter.) 

Hope to get more than four hours of sleep on average. (I would love that, only if my neighbors (front, both sides and back) dogs and Gandolf agree to keep it quiet during the wee hours in the morning)  

Must follow my daily, weekly, monthly goal checklist for more than just one month (yup that’s pretty much all that it lasted give or take a few weeks then days, last year) 

If I can manage to even complete a fourth of that which is mentioned above, I will have done this long ass blog entry justice. So if y’all managed to reach the end of all this ridiculousness, I wish to say to you HAPPY NEW YEAR and may this year and the many years to come bring you all you hope for and more. Let’s 2019 the shit out of this frakking year and make it our bitch!!!

(At least I can say with this yearly blog entry that I’ve managed to keep this one and only friggin tradition during New Years)

[altcoindaddy]

WHAT IS A TRADING PLAN 

No two trading plans are the same because no two traders are exactly alike. Each approach will reflect important factors like trading style as well as risk tolerance. What are the other essential components of a solid trading plan? find out below.

SKILL ASSESSMENT

Are you ready to trade? Have you tested your system by paper trading it, and do you have confidence that it will work in a live trading environment? Can you follow your signals without hesitation? Trading the markets is a battle of give and take. The real pros are prepared and take profits from the rest of the crowd who, lacking a plan, generally give money away after costly mistakes.

MENTAL PREPARATION

How do you feel? Did you get enough sleep? Do you feel up to the challenge ahead? If you are not emotionally and psychologically ready to do battle in the market, take the day off—otherwise, you risk losing your shirt. This is almost guaranteed to happen if you are angry, preoccupied, or otherwise distracted from the task at hand.

Many traders have a market mantra they repeat before the day begins to get them ready. Create one that puts you in the trading zone. Additionally, your trading area should be free of distractions. Remember, this is a business and distractions can be costly.

SET RISK LEVEL

How much of your portfolio should you risk on one trade? This will depend on your trading style and tolerance for risk. The amount of risk can vary, but should probably range from around 1% to 5% of your portfolio on a given trading day. That means if you lose that amount at any point in the day, you get out of the market and stay out. It's better to take a break, and then fight another day, if things aren't going your way.

SET GOALS

Before you enter a trade, set realistic profit targets and risk/reward ratios. What is the minimum risk/reward you will accept? Many traders will not take a trade unless the potential profit is at least three times greater than the risk.

TRADE PREPARATION

Whatever trading system and program you use, label major and minor support and resistance levels on the charts, set alerts for entry and exit signals and make sure all signals can be easily seen or detected with a clear visual or auditory signal.

SET EXIT RULES

Most traders make the mistake of concentrating most of their efforts on looking for buy signals, but pay very little attention to when and where to exit. Many traders cannot sell if they are down because they don't want to take a loss. Get over it, learn to accept losses, or you will not make it as a trader. If your stop gets hit, it means you were wrong. Don't take it personally. Professional traders lose more trades than they win, but by managing money and limiting losses, they still make profits.

Before you enter a trade, you should know your exits. There are at least two possible exits for every trade. First, what is your stop loss if the trade goes against you? It must be written down. Mental stops don't count. Second, each trade should have a profit target. Once you get there, sell a portion of your position and you can move your stop loss on the rest of your position to the breakeven point if you wish.

SET ENTRY RULES

This comes after the tips for exit rules for a reason: Exits are far more important than entries. A typical entry rule could be worded like this: "If signal A fires and there is a minimum target at least three times as great as my stop loss and we are at support, then buy X contracts or shares here."

Your system should be complicated enough to be effective, but simple enough to facilitate snap decisions. If you have 20 conditions that must be met and many are subjective, you will find it difficult (if not impossible) to actually make trades. In fact, computers often make better traders than people, which may explain why most of the trades that now occur on major stock exchanges are generated by computer programs.

Computers don't have to think or feel good to make a trade. If conditions are met, they enter. When the trade goes the wrong way or hits a profit target, they exit. They don't get angry at the market or feel invincible after making a few good trades. Each decision is based on probabilities, not emotion.

KEEP EXCELLENT RECORDS

Many experienced and successful traders are also excellent at keeping records. If they win a trade, they want to know exactly why and how. More importantly, they want to know the same when they lose, so they don't repeat unnecessary mistakes. Write down details such as targets, the entry and exit of each trade, the time, support and resistance levels, daily opening range, market open and close for the day, and record comments about why you made the trade as well as the lessons learned.

You should also save your trading records so that you can go back and analyze the profit or loss for a particular system, drawdowns (which are amounts lost per trade using a trading system), average time per trade (which is necessary to calculate trade efficiency), and other important factors. Also, compare these factors to a buy-and-hold strategy. Remember, this is a business and you are the accountant. You want your business to be as successful and profitable as possible.

ANALYZE PERFORMANCE

After each trading day, adding up the profit or loss is secondary to knowing the why and how. Write down your conclusions in your trading journal so you can reference them later. Remember, there will always be losing trades. What you want is a trading plan that wins over the longer term.

THE BOTTOM LINE

Successful practice trading does not guarantee that you will find success when you begin trading real money. That's when emotions come into play. But successful practice trading does give the trader confidence in the system they are using, if the system is generating positive results in a practice environment. Deciding on a system is less important than gaining enough skill to make trades without second-guessing or doubting the decision. Confidence is key.

There is no way to guarantee a trade will make money. The trader's chances are based on their skill and system of winning and losing. There is no such thing as winning without losing. Professional traders know before they enter a trade that the odds are in their favor or they wouldn't be there. By letting their profits ride and cutting losses short, a trader may lose some battles, but they will win the war. Most traders and investors do the opposite, which is why they don't consistently make money.

Traders who win consistently treat trading as a business. While there is no guarantee that you will make money, having a plan is crucial if you want to be consistently successful and survive in the trading game.

[jungblue]

splinter (m)

» pairing: jungkook x reader

» genre: angst, non-explicit smut / college au

» word count: 6,518

» description: Perhaps in their last moments together, the pieces won’t seem so broken. That maybe even with their jaded hearts they can salvage some replica of what it all once was. 

» note: there are mentions of cheating in this story

People love to talk about the ‘what ifs.’

What if they had just kept going, what if they had chosen a different path, what if things had just gone the way they had so desperately wanted them to? Humans torture themselves with these thoughts, all while urgently grappling at the threads of their memories that led to the fork in the road where things went awry. They ponder them tirelessly, wondering if they could’ve done something different, only to realize in the end that it didn’t matter because what was done was done. It was that simple, yet again, people still loved to talk, ponder, and torture themselves with the possibility of what if — However, in your personal experience, there was something much worse.

There was a sub-group of sorts to the what-ifs, called the ‘almosts.’ Almosts are burning flames of misery because they tease you by getting so heartbreakingly close to what you wanted. They were in your reach, resting on the tip of your tongue, only to dissipate before you could swallow it down and make it yours.

So yeah, you weren’t a fan of the-almosts. But what you were even less keen on was being in the same room as your almost, the thread of memories making the air thick as it wrapped its way around your throat.

Because perhaps buried deep within the thumping bass, spilled liquor, and dimmed lights of every college party, you might just be able to find yourself a love story… Of course, it might not be perfect, far from perfect actually, but really what love story ever is? However, at that age, or more specifically at that time in someone’s life, mistakes seem to be abundant. The factors are endless, so plentiful in fact that they pile on top of one another until this supposed love story — splinters.  

The fragments lay in a million pieces, each one telling their own little story of how it all ended.

Laid strewn at the forefront of that pile of broken pieces was the shard branded hormones. Those vibrant sensations that make your vision go blurry and judgment turn haywire. Those pesky little things that when mixed with alcohol make you forget all about that guy or girl you’re really into… That guy or girl that you’ve been dating for three months — that guy or girl that deserved way better than a fresh out of high school kid that didn’t know how to handle their fireball mixed with an empty bedroom upstairs at a party.  

Next is that gleaming shard of freedom. It burns bright. The second you step foot onto that college campus miles upon miles away from people telling you what to do, how to act, or where to stay, your tolerance for limitations shifts. Being held down to any given place, any given idea, or any given person, it causes a flight response. The body wanting to maintain its newfound freedom, relieving itself of the hindrance to their fresh independence. Plus, having the ability to run from your problems without a choir to comment isn’t exactly helpful either. So combine all of that, and maybe it results in some runaway act of studying abroad for a semester to convolute the feelings of guilt and love with culture shock and ample amounts of bodies… Yeah, that definitely puts a pause on things.  

Another piece laying sound in the graveyard is that dingy, jagged shard reflecting the uncertainty of the future. That constant pressure that bombards you saying: if you haven’t made a dent in the path towards your goal by the time you’re twenty-five then you’re falling behind. This reality (even if it is false) sets in maybe three years down the line. Tailgating loses its taste, the library becomes your home even more so than it had been before, and your time for connections and relationships downsizes to the point of not even trying… Not even trying when that guy or girl is really making an attempt to reconcile with you, and even though your heart wants it, your millennial mind says there’s no time for that now, at least nothing serious — maybe after medical school, because somewhere along the line our lives turned into planning how much fun our lives will be once X, Y, and Z happens some odd years down the road.

It’s these, along with many other fragments, that lay in a messy array around the relationship. Some are tiny and seemingly insignificant pieces, however once the micro aggressions start to build, they inevitably become one larger section of the puzzle. Some of the remains are large and shiny, others dirty and defiled. It’s all a shattered mess of emotions and incidents, but if you can somehow manage to pick up the pieces and realign the edges, then just maybe you can still see the beauty in what it all once was.

— Or at the very least, that was what seemed to be happening in the back corner of that one college party with thumping bass, spilled liquor, and dimmed lights, where imperfect love stories sometimes go to simmer or just maybe rekindle.

He was posted over your body, drinks in hand as you both tentatively sipped at the poison. Jungle juice flowed comfortably in your veins until in the slight halo, the two of you could see the shadows of what you once were four years ago when you had first met in the backyard of (again) some college party from freshman year. And maybe if you both squinted, you could try and pretend like you weren’t able to see the wear and tear that all of the lying, cheating, running, and just plain fuckery the fruits of your immature years had done to one another.  

“But really, how’ve you been?” He asked a few minutes into the conversation, biting nervously at the rim of his plastic cup.

He was biting nervously because what he really wanted to ask was something along the lines of: How have you been since I told you I still loved you eight months ago and you shut me down because even though you did want to be with me again, you also apparently got a B and C in anatomy and microbio while we were going through our shit, and that was I guess a disastrous blow to your ten year plan?

“I’ve… I’ve been,” You settled on with a fake laugh of sorts because even the false oasis of alcohol couldn’t seem to wash your worries away completely.

It was a fake laugh of sorts because what you really wanted to say was something along the lines of: I’ve been pretty shit and unhappy since I told you I couldn’t get back together with you eight months ago even though I was still really in love with you, and even though honestly I shouldn’t have been after everything we’ve fucked up on.

Jungkook simply snorted in response. “Same.”

“It really has been a while though. Haven’t really seen you out — well I haven’t really been out, so that’s probably why.”

The past few months had been some of the most stressful of your entire life. No time for fun or distractions, which was the reason for your cop out of an excuse to Jungkook back then: It’s just not good timing for us right now. Or just in general, you would now add after having months to sleep on the conversation.

“No, I haven’t really been going out lately either. Just in a mood, y’know?” He shrugged, sipping his drink to hide the downward turn of his lips.

“Jeon Jungkook, moody? Never would’ve guessed,” You teased from behind your cup to try and lighten the tension, with a glint in your eye, giving the go ahead for the atmosphere to shift. You smiled, he followed, removing his arms from across his chest to show that his guard was lowering, even if only slightly.

“Okay, I admit I can be a bit moody.”

“A bit?” You scoffed playfully. “You sulked for literally an entire week when I accidentally broke your charger that one time, remember?”

“Listen,” He grinned, shifting positions of leaning in slightly more to combat the noise of the party. “I had that charger for like three years, and it had all of these iron man stickers on it from my high school girlfriend. The sentimental value of that charger was top fucking notch.”

“Oh my god,” You chuckled, batting at his chest. “Want me to get you a new one then, so one day when your wife accidentally breaks it you can be sulky and say your college girlfriend gave it to you? Go all sentimental on her ass too.”

“I know you’re mocking me, but yes actually, I would very much like that,” He admitted.

“So I can start you on your way to a freaky ex-girlfriend iron man phone charger collection? I think I’ll have to pass. Guess you’ll just have to find another way to remember me by once the years start to fade that pretty memory of yours.” You tapped playfully at his temple.

Jungkook paused for a moment, a small one, but a pause nonetheless. His tongue running quickly over his teeth as if to give himself a moment to think about whether he should say the words already curling in his lungs — In the end, with the help of light traces of alcohol, the nearing future of more than likely never seeing each other again, and the remaining drops of love flowing through his veins for you, he decided to just go for it.

“Trust me, I’m not gonna need anything extra to remember you by. You’ve made it really easy all on your own.”

You faltered for a moment, that sudden lurch in your chest sending signals to every inch of your body to remind you of just how easy it’s always been to fall back into things with Jungkook. Not sure of how exactly to respond, you laughed, dropping your head slightly as you tapped nervously at your cup.

“Moody sentimentalist meets flirt. It’s quite a trifecta.”

Now you were trying to act stoic, to not let those fuzzy feelings worm their way into the forefront of this conversation that you probably shouldn’t even be having in the first place. You knew better than anyone that all it took was a few slick words or a certain glint from those shiny doe eyes, and your heart would bleed rivers for him. Already, after maybe ten short minutes of simple, light-hearted conversation, you wanted to bask in his entire being. The deprivation of not seeing him for so long, making the relapse all the more tempting.

Jungkook picked up on the change. The slight waver in body language, the tightness of your words, and the nervous tick as you played with the ends of your hair. But your eyes were still staring back at him. They were the same eyes that stared back at him when he’d first met you all of those years ago, making him want to grasp onto anything to remind him of how simple things were in those first few months of meeting one another.

It was late fall and you were shivering outside of this house party that you both managed to end up at. He told you back then that if you stood by this tall ledge of bricks that it would block the wind — Jungkook himself happened to be standing by that particular ledge of bricks. You joined him, and after that things escalated more quickly than either of you intended it to.

Of course, that was a long time ago, but it was the shard of glass in the mirror that started this entire thing, and so he can only reflect on it fondly, even if heavy amounts of pain followed because of it. It was for this reason that even though Jungkook knew he should swallow his words down, save himself from tasting what it was like to be with you once more… But in the end, he just couldn’t.

“Well, I’m a moody sentimentalist meets flirt that’s still really in love with you,” He shrugged. “It’s just in my nature, so what can I do when you’re right here in front of me and moving away soon?”

He shrugged — fucking shrugged as if he’d just told you that he didn’t know which way the goddamn bathroom was, not that he was still in love with you.

He regretted saying it for all of three seconds. He knew that maybe it wasn’t exactly fair to tell you so bluntly when the two of you were having such a casual conversation, and when the most you’ve interacted in the last eight months was through a few simple snaps. But you were moving hundreds of miles away next week to get settled into your new city before you had to drown yourself in medical school. And he only knew that much because of the picture you posted on your story a few days ago. Other than that, if not for the coincidence of showing up at the same party… He might’ve never seen you again. So maybe that thought alone had his judgment turning a bit cloudy.

However, you weren’t even surprised to hear the words as they rolled past his teeth.  Instead, you simply ran your tongue against the inside of your cheek, a breathy sigh escaping your throat in defeat as you reached out between the small space separating your bodies. Your fingers picked lightly at the fabric of Jungkook’s t-shirt, gingerly pressing against the muscle that hid beneath.  

Your eyes flitted upward, apprehension seeping into your lungs. “Why?”

“Why?” He asked. “Do you mean why do I love you, or why am I a moody, flirty, sentimental… Whatever? Because honestly, they’re both pretty simple. It just… Is.”

His nervous laughter followed. Immediately its vibrations traveled between the particles of dust in the air and straight into your bloodstream, where it festered and grew in a matter of seconds, every part of you wanting to relive the experience of simply being with him — even if it was only one more time.

You sighed deeply, so completely aware of the fact that you shouldn’t do this, but deciding against it anyway. “Come on,” You whispered in defeat, dropping your hand to interlock with his.

Jungkook smiled, knowing all too well that this ending was inevitable whenever the two of you were together. “Any place in mind?” He asked.                                                                                                                                                            

You weaved yourselves around the masses of bodies, familiar faces of friends giving the two of you knowing looks as you made your way through the front door together. “Some place where you can be moody, flirty, sentimental, or whatever the hell else, with your hands all over me.”

--

In the end that place turned out to be lying flat against Jungkook’s bed, his head buried between your legs, the dig of his fingers steadying the quiver of your thighs.

“Fuck, fuck — ahh. R-right there,” You rasped, your heels pressing harshly into his back, willing him to stay in place.

“Feel good?” He murmured between timely strokes of his tongue.

“Yes, so good. Please keep going.”

It had only been a couple of minutes and you already sounded fucking wrecked. Your voice echoed across the walls as your hands gripped at the sheets, Jungkook finding that perfect spot and pace that he seemingly only knew how to entertain.

Jungkook however had to ruin the moment, because again you were leaving, and so he just couldn’t help himself from asking that burning question that he knew had no correct answer, and was simply his hurt ego coming out to play.

“Better than that dude you cheated on me with freshman year? What was his name? Yoongi or some shit?”

The familiar and bitter hostility rang in his voice, pausing his movements between your thighs as he glanced up at you, arousal dripping down his lips.

“Please, not this again.” You sighed, glancing down as he stared up at you through eyes mixed with the lust of the moment and the hurt of the past. “It was three and a half years ago. I’ve apologized so many fucking times. Trust me, I regret it. I regret it so much.”

Jungkook’s lips tilted into a somber sideways frown. His eyes darted away as he tried to forget the memory, the betrayal, those words that his friend whispered to him the next day saying: “Hey… I was at this party last night, and I saw Y/N go upstairs with some guy. You might wanna ask her about it.”

His head fell in defeat against your hip, a heavy breath scattering across the skin. The skin that he wished he could’ve caressed and held more than he had actually been able to in the past four years of knowing you.

Seeing the sudden change in Jungkook felt like a punch to your gut. It was your fault he was like this. You and your stupid goddamn hormones. A green college kid that thought in the midst of a comfortable buzz that you shouldn’t be tied down the second you finally get your freedom. You were a selfish idiot that, back then, just wasn’t aware of the world and how much such a small action can hurt someone for so long.

“C’mere,” You whispered, pulling at his arm until he was laying over you, eyes glassy with way too many emotions to even process.

“Look… I didn’t mean to make this awkward.” He bit at his bottom lip, tugging at his hair to try and distract himself from what he was actually saying. “I really wanted to just be with you one last time before you left. In any way that you’d let me. But it’s just hitting me that you’re really leaving, and everything is just flooding back, and I’m not gonna lie, it hurts. It really fucking hurts.”

The words made your eyes sting. The reality so much more frightening when you realize what it all actually means.

“No, you’re fine. I get it,” You assured him as your thumb ran along the underside of his jaw in some small attempt to comfort him. Your memories running wild with so much guilt. “I really fucked us up didn’t I?”

“We both fucked up, Y/N. Sure, you did it first, but we both have done shit we regret.”

“Yeah, but I just can’t help but think that maybe if I hadn’t cheated on you, then none of that other stuff ever would’ve happened. That right now, instead of basically having a goodbye fuck, we’d be talking about how to make long distance work. It just really gets to me, that some stupid mistake when I was eighteen ruined something that really could’ve worked — something that really could’ve been great.” Your eyes watered but you quickly blinked the tears away. The sudden rush of anxiety and self-distaste concocting violently in your chest.

“Hey, hey,” Jungkook whispered softly. “Don’t do that to yourself. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have brought it up.” His hand rubbed soothing circles along your thigh, the feelings of blame dulling slightly, but not by much. “Trust me, I think about that a lot too, but it was my choice, my fucked up decision to have that get-back-at-you, fucked up mentality once we got back together. I slept with that girl out of spite so you could feel the hurt, and that wasn’t right of me either. We were both stupid kids, so don’t blame everything on yourself.”

“But I really hurt y-you—” That first crack in your voice was quickly followed by the first tear, and you quickly wiped it away so you could get through this before you became an incoherent mess. “All of your relationships since ours haven’t worked out because of me. You don’t trust them, and all because I fucked up your ability to trust in the first place. I just…” You trailed off, your words becoming more broken by with each passing word.

“Fucking Jimin,” Jungkook cursed beneath his breath. “He’s been talking to you?”

You nodded, using the cuffs of your sleeves to dab at your eyes. “He’s just worried that you always seem to self-destruct your relationships. He said that you were dating this girl last year and that you seemed to really like her, but you cheated on her out of the blue. He thinks your trust issues are just really fucking up things that could be really good for you.” You bit down on the inside of your cheek, forcing down a sob. “And I just really think that’s my fault.”

“No, it’s okay.” He leaned forward, pressing a light kiss to the side of your jaw. “I admit, I’m more cynical about relationships now than I was before that entire thing with us happened, but I’m an adult. It’s all me. I hurt you, you hurt me, and I’ve hurt a lot of others trying to figure out how to get over that, but that’s all on me. You can’t blame yourself for that.”

At this point, the tears were pouring in waves. “God, why were we so stupid?” You asked as you wrapped your arms around his neck, tugging him forward. Both of you basking in this moment of finality that neither of you really wanted to acknowledge.

“Y’know, sometimes I think that maybe if I hadn’t gone to study abroad to literally fuck a semester away, that we might’ve been able to work everything out. That when I asked you to get back together with me last year, that maybe you would’ve said yes, because by then we would’ve talked more than a few drunk, passive aggressive texts to you saying how much fun I was having in Italy,” He paused, taking a moment to remember his immaturity. “You’re not the only one with regrets, seriously.”

You laughed, the sting and burn of that time still staining your throat with bile. “Oh yeah, don’t forget the snaps with the hordes of girls placed conveniently in the background.”

He dropped his head in shame, his hand blindingly searching to link up with yours. “I was a petty asshole, and I honestly never apologized for that, so I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve that.”

“I think we both didn’t deserve a lot of things, but maybe that made us grow or something.” You shrugged, tightening your grip on his hand.

“Did you hear that on some shitty relationships podcast?” Jungkook asked with a warm smile, remembering how much you used to love listening to those things.

You battled him playfully on the shoulder. “Okay, sure it’s cheesy, but I think it holds some weight. I mean, if we hadn’t gone through all that, I never would’ve understood how nothing is as black and white as it seems when you’re just imagining what you would do in a situation.”

Jungkook’s brows furrowed a bit with curiosity. “Please, elaborate.”

“Like, I guess it’s easy for someone to think that they’d never stay with someone that cheated on them, or even actually cheat themselves when they’re sort of just picturing it in their heads. But once it actually happens, you learn that it’s not as easy to just end it. That you’ve invested all of these feelings into someone that you really did trust, and now you’re just supposed to end it all of a sudden? No questions or exceptions? I mean, sure for some that’s easy to do, but I think for most, they’ll take a second to even just consider that maybe it was a stupid mistake… Sort of like you did for me.”

You tried to form some semblance of a sad, thankful smile, but it quickly crumbled, more tears falling with it. Jungkook’s hand quickly coming to catch them.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right. When I thought about the idea of someone cheating on me, I kind of just thought I’d say fuck her and move on. But I also sort of thought I’d have better judgment than to fall for someone that would cheat on me.”

That stung, but it was the truth.

“Yeah, I’m sorry.” Your head dropped down, avoiding his glances.  

“But,” He started, pulling your chin to face him again. “I also thought I’d never be the type of person to cheat, but I have. It made me feel like the biggest piece of shit alive, but I still did it. It’s awful and disgusting to do that to someone. It fucks them up in unfair ways, and I know this because I felt that exact way after you cheated on me, and yet… I still did that back to you when I gave you another chance — hell, I did that to some nice, amazing girl that’d never given me a reason not to trust her. So yeah, I guess you’re right. Even though we put each other through hell, we learned a lot because of it. Things are just gray sometimes.”

Seeing the gray can be humbling. You’ll remember that time when you were in high school and judged your friend for getting back together with her boyfriend after he cheated, and realize how ignorant that was on your part. That maybe when you’re that young and weighed down by the mentality that you are in fact young, it sometimes causes mistakes to erupt. In the end, you realize that not one set of rules can be applied to every situation. The shades between white and black are endless, the circumstances between right and wrong are infinite, and there’s certainly no answer to suit all of them.

“What do you think is better? Living in ignorance or being jaded?” You asked after a few seconds of letting Jungkook’s words settle.

He tilted his head from side to side, letting himself think before finally answering. “I’m not sure to be honest. I mean, living ignorant in terms of relationships sounds nice in theory. You think if they cheat I’ll leave, if they disrespect me I’ll leave, if I’m just not happy anymore I’ll leave. It would be nice if things were actually that simple… But I just don’t think any relationship is perfect enough to hold to that standard,” He shrugged, sort of like he had given up on the idea of that flawless sort of love.

“Maybe you’re just too jaded,” You smiled, running your fingers through his hair.

He laughed through his nose. “Yeah, probably.”

“But I guess I think the same. I mean, even for the opposite it’s true. Like you said, in theory if you love someone then you’ll be with them, but that’s not always the case… Life gets in the way sometimes.” The words came out as sort of a whisper, your eyes darting to and away from Jungkook, but he still managed to see the sliver of projection you had cast into your words.

“Talking about… Any person specifically?” He asked cautiously while still leaning closer to where his lips were almost brushing against yours.  

You felt your heart thunder inside of your chest. The blood rattled your ears, every passing second sending a flash flood of sensations. Buried within that, the memories of four years reflected back. The hate, the anger, the bitterness, the resentment. The passion, the happiness, the comfort, the bliss. It was this clash of emotions, so fierce and so wild. However, even with the bad so daunting and unforgiving, it was the good that allowed you to remember how much things had changed. How you don’t hold disdain so close to your heart, and instead you carry fondness of what it has permitted you to become.

“I love you.” The pure curve of your lips tilted upwards, letting the words slip out in the most unapologetic of ways. Every syllable cherished and branded across both of your pessimistic hearts.

Jungkook felt the words like a punch to his gut. It was so physically responsive as it stole the air from his lungs. The bitter burn of knowing that you were only saying it because you knew that it wouldn’t change anything. The lingering singe that was still embedded in his blood from when he uttered those exact words to you eight months ago, and you told him that you just couldn’t do it again.  

He kissed you as if it were the last time, and that was because it most likely was. He moved with purpose, his hands pinning your shoulders back, the light gasp before you became pliant beneath him making his ears ring. His lips ran across your skin as if to memorize every inch. He thought that maybe a few months from now when he hit that inevitable lull of realization that it was really, really over, he would be able to bring up the map of your body that he traced tonight. Maybe it would somehow dull the ache, knowing that at least it happened. No matter how broken or fucked up, at least it was real.

You felt his emotions so vividly, but maybe that was because they mirrored your own so well. Every touch so light, almost as if the two of you were afraid that too much too quickly, would be enough to shatter even the already mangled fragments of what remained. Nothing was spoken as each article of clothing from the both of you collected on the floor. The pile grew bigger, serving as the unfortunate reminder of the passage of time, and how this would soon be over. But even with what he didn’t say, you felt with his hands on your waist, his mouth on your temple, and his knee parting your thighs.  

He managed to find his voice once more with his forehead pressed to your belly. “I love you too.”

Your hands quickly found Jungkook’s shoulders, urging him upwards again. Your fingers landed softly on the curve of lips, lining them softly as you read the constellations of what he was feeling in the deep reflection of his eyes.

“I don’t want this to be sad,” You said, voice shaky.

“Me either, but it’s just hard for me not to treat this whole thing like glass.” He settled between your legs, body comfortably sitting on top of yours. “I just don’t wanna break it for good.”

“Then don’t think of it like that.” You ran your fingers through the strands of his hair, a slight smile sitting on your lips as he leaned into the touch. “It’s just… In pieces.”

Jungkook’s brow raised skeptically. “Uhm, isn’t that the definition of broken,” He asked.

“What I mean is that each piece is its own thing,” You said, shifting beneath his so he could really hear this. “There are pieces that show the good and the great, and there are others that show the literal fucking worst. But no matter how many pieces our relationship has broken off into, they still fit. It looks broken, but it doesn’t have to stay broken.”

“Okay well first of all you definitely heard that on a podcast,” He laughed, and you followed because admittedly it was true, but you also meant it in its entirety. But then however Jungkook continued, his laugh suddenly fading into something more serious. “But that… That also sounds like hope, and I don’t want false hope when it comes to you.”

You sighed, hating how complicated the two of you had made this. Four years of situations webbing together in an unnavigable mess.

“I meant that even in terms of friendship. I know we’re not the best at keeping this platonic, but we’re learning. We aren’t the same people that we were when we first met. Not even close — which is a good thing, because we sort of sucked,” You grinned, and he couldn’t help but nod along smiling. “But hey… Maybe someday somehow you’ll end up in New York with me.” For some reason you couldn’t help but include your wishful thinking.

Jungkook snorted in response. “If I ever end up in New York, something terribly good and unexpected has happened in my life, or maybe terribly bad depending on how you look at it. I’m talking some Breaking Bad level shit.”

“Where is your optimism?” You giggled.

“Lost somewhere in the back of a calc-2 lecture hall on December 8th of last semester’s finals week.”

“Aw, did you not pass?” You asked, genuinely concerned since you really hadn’t talked to Jungkook in recent months. Probably to avoid emotional situations such as the exact one you were currently in.

“No, I did. I mean it was barely passing, but still. It was sort of tragic how much I studied for it and still — actually no,” He suddenly paused midsentence. “I’m lying on top of your beautiful naked body talking about fucking calculus. That is the real goddamn tragedy here.”

You both laughed as he leaned down to plant pecks across the bridge of your nose, down your chin, and against your eyes. Allowing yourselves a moment to bask in such a simple and happy moment.

“Then do something about it,” You whispered, leaning up on your elbows deepen the kiss.

“Oh, sweetheart.” He smirked, sliding his palm between your thighs. “I very much plan to.”

He palmed at your slick heat, swallowing your gasps just as quickly as he created them. Once he started a particular motion, your hips jumped off the bed, chasing the feeling.

“There?” He murmured, giving another circle of his fingers around the responsive area.

You nodded quickly before baring your neck back. Jungkook felt your moans in his gut. Each twist of his fingers had your hips stuttering against his hand, your voice unabashedly sinking through the drywall of his apartment. However, even in that moment where his brain was fuzzy with desire, he still felt the impending end of it all eating at the back of his mind. That having you here, beneath him, professing your love, it was all just for that one singular moment, and then it would be back to nothing.

You could sense that sadness even through your pleasured haze and so you quickly pushed him off of you until he was laying on his back, a confused look on his face until you were straddling him, leaning forward to kiss and whisper soft assurances that things would be okay. He quickly relaxed into it, his hands settling on your sides, nails digging gently into your skin.

“Condom?” You asked as you shifted, feeling his member grazing the inside of your thigh.

He nodded, giving you one long, incredibly sweet kiss before breaking away to fish his jeans off of the floor. He grabbed his wallet, pulling the condom out before tossing everything else back onto the ground. He ripped it open, swiftly rolling it down his hardened length before settling his hands onto your hips and guiding you down until you felt him pressing at your heat. You both sighed deeply, feeling the harsh flare of warmth in your gut as Jungkook buried himself deeper inside of you until he bottomed out, stilling to give you a second to adjust.

Your brows furrowed, mouth parting slightly as the pleasure manifested itself as quiet moans, almost allowing you to forget the somber undertone of the entire situation. However, it was unfortunately short-lived, the second your eyes opened to see Jungkook sitting beneath you with his blissed out expression, all of the implications of that moment came crashing down. You inhaled sharply, your voice seeming to break before you could get the words out.

“I’m gonna miss you so much,” You breathed out harshly as you buried yourself into his neck, his arms almost instantly wrapping around your back to shield you with some sort of comfort. You both stayed like that for a minute or so, just completely consumed in each other, taking in that beautiful moment of being so connected that it was possible, even if only slightly, to feel as if anything moving forward didn’t exist, and that it could just be like that forever.

But eventually you did have to move, feeling his hand come up to guide your face from the crook of his neck until you were pressing against his forehead, glimmers of sadness reflecting off of both of you. But even with sorrow tugging at his heart, Jungkook still managed a smile for your sake.

“Ready to make another piece, babe?” He eventually asked, and you could almost feel your heart crumble deep inside of your chest.

“Not the final piece though, right?” You asked, just to give yourself some sort of thread to hang onto.

“Of course not,” He said, shaking his head as if the idea was ridiculous. “Hey, five years from now maybe I’ll see you in some weird ass coffee shop in New York, and we’ll make another piece, yeah? And who knows, maybe it’ll be such a big piece that all of the splintered moments from the past four years will seem so stupid and insignificant.”

You smiled at the hopeful scenario and buried it somewhere deep inside of your soul.

“I love you.”

You both repeated it so many times after that, that it was hard to tell who was actually saying it at any given moment. Things just sort of started to melt together. He pressed deeper inside of you, pushing you until you were both a mess of tangled limbs and shuddered breaths. The seconds quickly turned into minutes, until the concept of time was so seemingly inconceivable that you could no longer even contemplate how long you had been pressed against his sheets, stuttered highs wracking your body, seemingly one after another.

Slowly the two of you forged this new and shiny piece of the long and complicated journey that your relationship undoubtedly was. It sat perfectly next to all of the splintered shards, so unspoiled and pristine compared to everything else that you and Jungkook had broken over the years. But even though it was messy, even though it had its flaws, when you sat back and looked at the mirror in its entirety, you couldn’t help but marvel at it. You traced the journey, each crack leading to a new fork in the road, until eventually you ended up right here: with Jungkook’s bated breaths after reaching his high landing softly against your shoulder, with the two of you whispering how much you loved each other as you found your way beneath the comforter, with this mural of mistakes, happiness, and life living inside the both of you, forever.

“Let’s try not to break this piece,” Jungkook said eventually, yawning as he pulled you into his side.

“I think it’ll be okay even if we do.” You simply smiled, your face pressing lovingly into the warmth of his chest before molding your lips against his in a light kiss that was tinged with the edges of sleep. “After all, we’ll always have our chance at a coffee shop in New York.”

[the-stories-in-my-head-95]

Hey, I’ve Got You- Chapter Two

Tony Stark x enhanced! Reader

Summary -The reader was captured and experimented on and given the healing factor and she has claws that extend out from the bed of their nails. The people who are experiment on her cover her skeleton in vibranium. So the reader now has metal claws. They keep her locked away for a very long time. They rarely feed her or let her out because there is such a high chance of her escape now. Somehow the UN panel that is in charge of the accords finds out about the illegal experiments and send Iron Man in to shut down the operation. The reader is the only one there because the scientists had gotten word that they had been discovered. Tony finds the reader and takes her back to the compound.

Message- This is kinda long...sorry about that! Sorry if it sucks!!

Warning- Reader is held captive and experimented on. Mentions of torture. Self-injurious behavior.

Background  Chapter One

Word Count- 2,500ish

You are awoken to Tony gently picking you up.

“I’m going to take you to medical. I promise no hospital beds, okay?” Tony whispers and you nod.

“No more cutting, no more pain, promise.” You whimper back.

“I promise, no one will ever hurt you again.” Tony says holding you a little tighter. Eventually the two of you get to medical. “Hello, Dr. Cho.”

“Hello, Mr. Stark, is this the patient I heard about.” Dr. Cho says. Tony nods and goes to put you down on the couch but you cling to him.

“Its okay, Dr. Cho won’t hurt you. She just needs to take a look at you, make sure everything healed properly.” Tony says quietly.

“NO, doctors cut!!” you scream as you scrambling out of Tony’s arms and then you run for the door that you had just been brought through but it wouldn’t open. You started to sob. Then you flicked you claws out and start to try to claw at the door.

“Y/N, I promise Helen isn’t like those doctors. She’s good. She won’t hurt you. We just need to make sure you’re okay. See if we can figure out what they did to you. I’ll stay with you the whole time and if she tries to do something you don’t like we can stop. I promise.” Tony says as he slowly starts to walk over to you. After about another minute of ripping at the door you start to calm down. You still have tears streaming down your face but your breathing starts to slow down. You look at Helen who looks distressed at the pain you’re in and she is doing her best to look nonthreatening. You had never seen a doctor do that before. They had always enjoyed your fear.

“Promise me, no cutting.” You say quietly. Tony opens his mouth to answer but you cut him off “No, not you Tony. Helen. I want her to promise.” You say looking at her.

“I promise, all you have to do is go into the cradle for one minute so I can do a full body scan. No cutting and as long as your healthy, no needles.” She says to you. You think for a minute and decide that her promise is acceptable. So you nod and walk towards the cradle thing. Helen opens the door and you get in. After the door shuts you hear Helen ask Tony if he knew about the claws and he replies no. After the promised minute the door opens and you get out. You and Tony sit on the couch as Helen looks at a plate thing. Then she drops the plate.

“Helen, what’s wrong?” Tony asks

“The metal isn’t just in her claws, Tony. It’s covering her entire skeleton. Y/N, does it hurt? Are you in pain?”

“No.” you say quietly

“How did they….” Tony starts to say put immediately stops the question

“Lots of pain and lots of cutting. They put me in…water? Then they put tubes in me and pumped vibranium into my body. I heard one of the doctors say it fused to my bones. Then they locked me in the room. They said I was too dangerous to have around anyone. I-I-I-I promise I won’t hurt anyone. Please don’t lock me in a room” You sob.

“No, I won’t let you be locked in a room. I promise. Your free now and you will always be free, if I have a say in the matter.” Tony says. “Do you know how long you were kept there? What’s your last memory of before this all happened?” you sit there for a minute trying to think back to before the pain. All of those memories were fuzzy.

“Everything before the pain is fuzzy. I think the last thing that I remember is the presidential debate. Has the election happened? Who won Kennedy or Nixon?” you ask looking at Tony and then when he doesn’t answer you look to Helen.

“Y/N, what year do you think it is?” Helen asks

“I don’t know. Maybe 1963. I was probably in that room for at least 2 years.” You answer

“It’s 2016 the first debate between Kennedy and Nixon was 56 years ago. Do you remember what year you were born?” Tony says as he takes your hand in his.

“I think I was born in 1940.” You say quietly. Doing the math in your head you realize that if Tony was telling the truth then that meant you are 76 years old. You look at your hands and see that your skin was still youthful. Then you pull at your matted hair and get a bit loose and you look at the color and see that it’s not grey. Then you get up from the couch and run over to a reflective surface and you gasp at your reflection. You have dark circles under your eyes, you’re extremely pale and your cheeks are sunken in. But you look no older than 25. “How?” you ask looking to Tony and Helen. “How am I still so young?”  

“I-I-I don’t know.” Helen says

“We can figure that out later. Right now I think Y/N could use a bath, a good meal and then a long night of sleep.” Tony says. “I have a hairdresser coming tomorrow. They’re going to get those knots out of your hair and I also have a therapist coming. I thought it might be good for you to talk to someone about everything. You don’t have to if you don’t want to though. It’s your decision. Also Pepper is going bring you some cloths in the morning. But for now I put some of my pajamas in the room you will be using. Is that okay?”

“Yes, T-Thank you.” Tony brings you to a room that he says will be yours now and he shows you how to use the tub.

“I’ll be right down the hall getting you something to eat. I be in the kitchen down the hall, come find me when you’re done, okay?” Tony asks and you nod. After you fill the tub, you get in the warm water. You couldn’t remember the last time you had had a bath. It felt amazing. You don’t even bother to try to wash your hair. The person Tony has tomorrow will probably have to cut it all off but that is better than what you have now. Once the water starts to get cold you get out of the tub and you look at the water and see that it’s nearly black with all of the dirt you’ve scrubbed off of your body. You find the Pajamas that Tony had told you about. You put them on and go find Tony. When you find him his back is turned to you.

“Tony?” you say to get his attention. He turns around and smiles at you.

“I made you some soup and toast. Helen said that you shouldn’t eat a lot. Since your body isn’t used to it. I figured that tomorrow you would be pretty busy with the hair stylist and then the therapist but I was wondering if the day after you would like to meet my two closest friends. Their names are Rhodey and Pepper. I think you would like them. But you don’t have to meet them right away. We can wait until you’re more comfortable here. Also, Pepper said that she would bring you cloths shopping. Once you feel comfortable going out.”

“I would love to meet your friends.” You say while giving him a small smile. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course, you can always ask me anything.”

“How did you find me?”

“A lot has changed since the 60’s. Do you remember Captain America?” Tony asks

“Vaguely, I think I went to one of his movies as a kid, it wasn’t very good.” You say. Tony laughs a bit.

“Basically I was a part of a team who protected the world from threats, Captain America was on the team to. But I made a mistake and a lot of people got hurt and some died. Some other mistakes were made and then Most of the countries decided to sign this thing called the Sokovia Accords. The Accords said that we would answer to the United Nations. They wanted us and other enhanced people to be supervised. I thought that it was a good idea some of my team members didn’t. We got into a fight and most of the team left and are now fugitives. But I did sign and the committee came to me saying that they found evidence of an abandoned lab that they suspected to be used for human experimentation and they asked me to check it out. That’s where I found you.”

“I’m enhanced. Do I have to sign?”

“Only if you ever want to join the avengers or any other government organization. It’s not that bad. They take some DNA, and they finger print you. Then they do a threat assessment. I was able to get them to repeal some of the more dramatic clauses. The committee is actually pretty reasonable. Now that things are up and running. Most of them agreed that some of the things the accords called for were basically human rights violations. So we were able to get rid of them or change them for the better.”

“Like what?”

“Any enhanced person who broke the law would be held without trial and be imprisoned at this thing called the raft. I got that bullshit shut down real quick.” Tony answers.

“I think you did the right thing.” You say quietly “and whatever you did, that mistake you made, I don’t think it was your fault, I bet it was an accident.” You add quietly and then you take Tony’s hand in yours and you squeeze it.

“T-Thank you.” Tony murmurs. “Are you done?”

“Yes, I think I want to go to bed now.” You say quietly and Tony nods and walks you to your room.

“The hair dresser is getting here tomorrow at 8:00. I’ll knock on your door a bit before that so you can get ready. If that’s okay with you.”

“That would be lovely, thank you.” You say before walking into your room.

****************************

The next morning you wake up to Tony knocking at your door. You walk over and open it. He hands you some clothes that look like they will actually fit you.

“Pepper dropped these off this morning. She said she would bring more with her tomorrow.”

“Thank you and tell Pepper I said thanks.” You say as you turn to walk to the bathroom. You get dressed and then you brush your teeth and walk into the kitchen. Tony hands you a plate with some toast on it.

“The hair dresser arrived a couple minutes ago. She is setting up and will be ready for you soon. The therapist should be getting here around noon.” You nod in response and you eat your toast. After you’re done you follow Tony to where the hair dresser set up. Tony asks you if it’s okay if he leaves and you nod. Then you turn to the hairdresser.

“H-hello, I’m Y/N.”

“I’m Jessie, dear.” The hairdresser says while you sit down in the chair. “This isn’t nearly as bad as I thought it would be.” She says as she inspects your hair.

“I-I tried to take care of it, but it was hard. I couldn’t move my fingers because of the-“

“It’s fine, honey. It might take a bit, but we’re going to get all these knots out.”

Y-You’re not going to cut it all off?” you ask quietly

“No, not all of it. Some will have to go, though. A lot of it is too damaged to save.” Jessie says

“I thought you were going to have to shave my head.” You say quietly.

“Goodness, no.” Then she starts to talk to you. She tells you about her kids and she fills you in on all of the celebrity gossip that you’ve missed since 1960. Apparently Kennedy had an affair with Marilyn Monroe. She also tells you about Tony and all of the good he’s done for the world. You ask him about his mistake and she tells you about what happened in Sokovia. You realize that you were right. It wasn’t his fault. At noon you take a break so you can talk to the therapist for a couple hours. It was a difficult conversation and you knew that you would have a lot more difficult conversations with them but it felt good, like you were starting to move away from what happened to you. The therapist tells you that they will be back to talk tomorrow as long as that is alright with you. You agree and you go back to Jessie and you continue to talk about the world. It takes her 10 hours but she finally gets all of the knots out and while she did have to cut a lot off you still have a decent amount of hair left. Its hangs down a bit passed your shoulders. Then she spends another hour showing you modern hair trends and different ways to style it.

“Thank you.” You say to her when she goes to leave.

“You’re welcome dear. I was happy to do it.” She says as she smiles at you. You go looking for Tony once she leaves and you find him looking at a smaller version of the table thing Helen was using yesterday.

“What is that?” you ask and tony looks up at you and his eyes go big. It takes him a minute to answer.

“It’s a cell phone.”

“If it’s a phone where are the buttons? How do you talk to anyone on it, it’s not connected to the telephone wires?” This begins Tony’s long lecture on how to use a cell phone. It takes about two hours but you figure it out. The whole time the two of you have huge smiles on your faces. “What was that thing Helen was using yesterday?” According to Tony it was a tablet. Basically it did all of the same things a cell phone did, but it was different somehow. Tony promises to show you tomorrow.

“Oh, also, I should tell you about FRIDAY.”

“The day of the week?”

“No, FRIDAY, is the artificial intelligence that runs the tower and my suits. FRIDAY, say hello.”

“Hello, Y/N. It is nice to meet you.”  A voice that had an Irish accent said

“Hello, FRIDAY.” You say back. Then you turn to Tony. “Can you explain her to me tomorrow? I’m kind of tired.”

“Of course, you’ve had a long day.” Tony walks you back to your room. Before you walk into your room you turn to Tony.

“Thank you for everything you’ve done for me.” You say quietly

“You don’t have to thank me for that. It’s been my pleasure to help you.” Tony says as he plays with a strand of your hair. “I like your new haircut.” he adds and you blush a bit.

“Thank you, and have a good night.” You say back.”

“Good night, Y/n.” Tony says before walking down the hall. You then go into your room and get ready for bed. The bed is way softer than you’re used to so it takes a while for you to fall asleep. But you do eventually.

Tag List- @capbuckthor​ @avc212​ @purplekitten30​  @peachpodge​ @red-writer13​ @redcresent 

[laderahearts]

Frank Ocean and His Forgotten Alter Ego Lonny Breaux

First of all blame @prizord for making me write this. He didn’t hold a gun to my head but he said he doesn’t claim this project and to me that’s even worse. Frank Ocean at the time was just a songwriter from my knowledge and looked to create songs for other artists. That’s cool but the songs should have (and thanks to the leak) stay his. Its a lot of songs kind of like listening to Chris Browns, heartbreak on a full moon. But since I love this project so much I’m just going to split the songs into categories that may interest you and let you soul search from there. This project has a lot to offer so why not take notice?

Five stars means take a listen for sure anything less means read the description and decide for yourself :)

Lets start with the fact that Frank Ocean can turn love into anything. A tattoo, A pair of jeans or even the game sim city. Lets jump right into the songs Frank showed his creative ability to turn love into metaphor we never expected.

1. Acura Integurl *****

Maybe he was making a lot of love in his car but this song basically says his car is the love of his life and its previous owner wasn’t as cool as him. Its an example of how we talk about our partners previous loves. like yeah you introduced me to this but I put you on to this. I love this song and the piano leading the way.

2. Bedtime Story ***

Frank ocean compares being heartbroken to not being read a bedtime story to help him sleep. This is a very “pop” track but it has r&b undertones. Its the perfect way to explain feeling lonely and honestly a very creative way to express being lonely. This song is about the lyrics more than anything. Also I love how the bedtime story he wants to hear are just three words. “I Love You”.

3. Blasted ****

Have you ever gotten a tattoo WITH your ex? not one of them or their name but just at the same time? I have and I think about who I was when I got it and what I was feeling also how I made sure it wasn’t reminiscent of him at all. LOL Frank  expresses in the song that this tattoo will be a representation of their love for each other and how it should be in color because her exes were in black and white. Too bad now we can just get tattoos removed but I knew where frank was going with this. 

4. Bricks and Steel *****

I love this song and although he’s not comparing love to Bricks And Steel. He expresses what happens when two people in love cant communicate with each other. Comparing communicating with his love to talking to bricks and steel. Maybe the relationship he sings about is over but it doesn’t take away from this song at all. He even goes as far to say his phone bill is on roaming when he tries to contact his significant other. 

5. Denim ****

I never knew I wanted to compare me and my future husbands relationship to a pair of Levi’s, but I mean in real talk we STILL thrift Levi’s. For Frank to tell me a love that last’s can be directly compared to the levi’s I cut up in the summer for college kids then I trust him. Honestly I feel like he created this to be apart of a ad and if he did who ever passed on it missed a great opportunity. Thanks to Frank’s vocals you FEEL this and it feels like summer on the beach. What an artist… I’m in awe right now.

6. Holly Baby **

This is too pop for me but its a great way to make Hollywood a monster.

7. J.O.B***

Frank describes being in love to a full time job and how if loving his partner made him money he’d be more passionate than he is at his current job. 

8. Miss You So*****

So I love this song but it means a lot to me because the day my cousin committed suicide I listened to this for hours. My cousin was not only gorgeous but she understood me. In this song Frank Ocean describes how he didn’t cease the moment with pictures?moments that he kept safe. This song is beautiful and whether it reminds you of an ex, family member or someone who passed along you will appreciate the feeling you get when Frank says he wishes he would have been more responsible with his memories and the moments he took for granted. My cousin committing suicide I felt like she stole many moments from me and that’s what I hear when I hear this song.

9.No Bonnie ***

No Bonnie is about letting someone hold on who would do so but you know they deserve better.

10. Old Terror ***

You ever dated someone immature? you will probably feel this on a spiritual level but its hella pop. I like the lyrics but I could hear this slowed down. He’s comparing someone he’s in love with to being childish. I love this song for the relation factor lol.

11. Richest Man In The Room*****

Frank Ocean describes the love of his life being amazing and beautiful enough to be hung in a museum for people to view but never have. How every time they are in a room although everyone is looking at his partner he actually has their heart, and how that is worth more than anything else he could imagine. this is on the pop side but one of my favorites. Let me marry the man who thinks having me on his arm is the best feeling in the world.

12. Rocket love ****

A very Pop track again but comparing love to the feeling of being launched into space is amazing. The visual this song gives is worth the 4 stars.

13. Taste*****

Instead of calling his significant other a gold digger he just describes/compares them having an expensive taste and how hard is to keep them fed. He also expresses how nothing he does will ever be enough. who ever he is singing to is demanding more. Its like damn every time he does something they want him to top that. I LOVE THIS SONG. Send this to those people who are hard to please.

14. The City*****

This is amazing. Imagine being love the thing that powered our city like scares/laughter lit the cities in monster inc? Anyway he describes heart break as being out of resources and love being the only thing that kept him going. Ever been depressed? If so this song will pull at your heartstrings.

NEXT!! Frank is the king of Story Telling all the next songs will bring you to a situation you encountered or make you visualize one.

1. Cant Be The Last Time ****

Frank Ocean is taking for granted all the chances he was given in the beginning  of relationship as an excuse for why he cant get it together. This is literally men lol he’s on this track begging knowing he knows better. but if you listen to this song you can imagine everything that is happening and that’s what makes it good.

2. Day Away **

This is super pop, but I like it. If you listen you know what it feels like to go back to a day that could change everything. This whole song is wishing that day never happened. We all have regrets and here he sings about wishing he could go back in time.

3.Dying for your love *****

This song is amazing. I play out the words in my mind in the way it relates to me. If I couldn’t do that I would imagine the way he sang it. I love this. One of my favorites because I think this is how every one of my relationships have ended. I’m trying and they aren’t, I let it get way past its expiration date and then I decide to leave. I love that Frank sings like someone EXHAUSTED. This would be on repeat before a few of my breakups had I heard it sooner.

4. Hardest Thing *****

This is falling in love for the first time(maybe second or third time) and RUNNING. Now the other person hates you but you still want them. I feel like if you send this song they will give you another chance and if not well at least you tried. You cant listen to this song and not go back to a memory and that’s what makes it beautiful. Even if you are mad it wasn’t expressed sooner you feel it.

5. Know Better *****

Lol for all yall who love dating rebounds this is for you. Your rebound going back to their ex and this song is literally your argument. This song would be magic in my ears cause I’m agreeing lol. It also brings attention to the fact that WE KNOW BETTER. All this energy on someone who didn’t get to heal could have went to a new love. Drama is always better and this song is it. This song is also DOPE AF! Frank even guilt tripped them at the end. This song makes you smile and that’s what music is about.

6. Ready *****

This is for every hopeless romantic who cant stay put. If you are like me and you move around a lot and you love change the visual this song gives you for that back home love is everything. I can imagine driving to a view and drinking champagne or wine. The great thing about this song is that everyone can feel that way and if Frank Ocean never did anything else its make us all get in touch with our romantic side on this track. Also this song screams CAR SEX lmao

7. She Wont Say Hello****

Lmao It’s not funny but basically his highschool sweetheart went to college and said fuck you! Although its not funny this song makes you feel for him. He is at home trusting his boo who wont even pick up his calls. Being 17 suddenly becomes a depressing memory.

8. Simply *****

If you just got cheated on don’t listen. Frank Ocean is explaining how him cheating was a SIMPLE mistake. Although I don’t agree this is beautiful af and I forgive him on behalf of who he was singing to. lol that doesn’t count but if it did! if I ever cheated this would be on repeat. I hope I’m never listening from this perspective. The visual is stunning tho

9. Sucka for love(not sucker for love) *****

This is a BOP. Long distance relationship that gives hope. He’s flying out his muse in the song and well… no matter the distance he’s in love.

Now the songs that inspire and reflect!

1. Quickly*****

This song ended up on John Legend’s album featuring Brandy. Its all about loving and appreciating what you have in the moment. I think its a sentiment we all feel. JUST do it is the motto here.

2.Read The Stars ** 

The message is cool. but the song is to pop for me. In this song he is proving the non believers wrong and if at anytime you feel like you are the people who critique you… you will feel this.

3. Scared of Beautiful*****

I love this version better than the final brandy version. I love Brandy but he felt this. I feel this. Makes you never want to give up on yourself or doubt yourself. We are all beautiful in our own way and have something different to offer, I listen to this on my bad days.

4. Together*****

This is an anthem. Maybe someday people will use it as such but until then I will. Maybe it was his coming out story or maybe it was just a story regardless its a reminder no matter what we have to co exist together.

So these are really my standout tracks. There are more but these get replayed over time for me. I hope you guys listen with open ears and hearts. This is a voice of a generation and there are many more to come. 

-Rosegawd