#misunderstanding and saying completely wrong shit faster than you can imagine

[bookwyrminspiration]

I’m choosing to no longer view immediate/very early fuck ups in reading cues in conversation as frustrating failures but instead as speed run records. I messed something up only 2 sentences in? Give me a medal and next time I’ll make it the 1st sentence I’m always improving making strides the world wishes they could bungle it like me I’m a champion

[sleeperswakewriting]

After Class

For @himebee-5's prompt!

Summary: Petra is Professor Ackerman's star student and yet, she keeps meeting him for office hours every Monday afternoon.

Rated: E

CWs: teacher/student relationship, age gap, praise kink

Word count: 3.2k

Surprise! I queued up another fic for smutty Saturday since I'll be out for most of the day--enjoy! 😉

She was distracting.

Levi prided himself in his stellar concentration, his perfunctory work, and despite his cold and callous demeanor, he was an excellent professor. Always receiving high remarks from his students and colleagues, and managing to churn out at least two research papers a year, there was little that compromised his neat routine.

He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose as he faced the chalkboard, clearing his throat. Levi Ackerman didn’t make mistakes, but after one look at her, his mind went elsewhere as he absently completed the calculus equation and one student shakily raised his hand and said, “E-excuse me sir, but I think you forgot to take the derivative in the fifth step.”

Taking a step back, realizing that his glasses slipped from its usual position since he took a double take at her, he merely nodded and erased the step in which he made the error and redid the equation. He thanked the student and a flurry of pencils hit paper as they recorded the problem, and Levi glanced at his watch, giving them a few minutes before he moved on.

It’s wasn’t just the plaid mini skirt and thigh high stockings that did it--he knew he was enough of a perverted old man that he at least acknowledged that turned him on, but the way she sat in the front row, prim and studious as she eyed him for the hour and a half lecture made him feel stupidly special. Most students’ eyes glazed over, and he didn’t give a shit if they were on their phones, it was their time and money after all, but the way her amber orbs never left him was almost damn unsettling if she didn’t have such a coquettish look.

Her short ginger hair was pulled back with a red head band today, and as he was giving back the first test of the semester, he paused at her seat and said, “Good work, Ms. Ral,” while sliding the test face down onto her desk. She beamed, looking at the paper, and her face fell at the grade. Levi frowned slightly, wondering what she could possibly be upset about since she received an 88, the third highest in the class. Calculus wasn’t an easy subject, and it was usually the class where students on the science and math track chose to drop out and choose a different major.

After passing out the tests, he returned to the desk at the front of the classroom to collect his things and head back to his office for his office hours for the day. As most of the students filtered out of the classroom, Petra sat stark still at her desk, eyes running over her exam, and eyebrows contorted in confusion.

“Is something wrong, Ms. Ral?” he asked, slinging his messenger bag over his grey dress shirt, adjusting his tie, and she looked up, eyes aglow. Levi pretended not to notice the way her tight long sleeved shirt hugged her curves, and the v-neck emphasized her breasts when she brought her arms together in anguish.

“I’m trying to figure out where I went wrong, Professor. I’m really disappointed in myself, I thought I aced this test.”

Levi cocked his head. “You should be proud of yourself, you have one of the highest marks in the class.”

Petra shook her head in disbelief. “Even so, I think I made far too many silly mistakes.” She sighed, shoulders slumping in clear disappointment. “I guess I’ll try harder next time. Sorry professor, you probably have to go--”

“My office hours are now,” he said, the words leaving his lips without even thinking. His glasses shone from the ceiling lights of the high lecture hall, and he swallowed. “We can go over the test if you’d like.”

And she smiled brilliantly at him again, collecting her things and swinging her fashionable book bag over her shoulder as she followed him to the math building. Levi kept at least three feet ahead of her, not wanting to give her the impression they had to make small talk since the math building was on the opposite side of the quad, and he breathed a sigh of relief when they entered his office. It was at the end of the hall of the third floor, a quiet place since it was around lunch time and most students were at the dining hall.

Levi closed the old wooden door and gestured for her to sit at the front of his desk while he deposited his bag and thumbed through the manila folder for the answer key. Petra set her things down and unfurled her own test, using his desk as she tapped her pencil at the corner of her lips.

“So which problems were giving you trouble?” He asked, loose leaf paper at the ready, and Petra motioned to problem number three.

“I get tripped up when there’s a double integral, I think.” She was already making the amendments in her head and she asked him for a piece of paper as well. Levi withdrew another from his desk cadenza and his breath hitched as their fingers touched. Stop acting like a teenage boy, he scolded himself, wondering when the last time he went on a date or had gotten laid because this was ridiculous. She was at least ten years his junior, his student no less, and she was just asking her math professor for help, even though she clearly didn’t need it.

She crossed her legs cutely, emphasizing her thighs between the space between her skirt and socks, and Levi averted his gaze as he forced himself to concentrate on her bright tone, going over her process as she circled and made the adjustments from her previous attempt.

“Yes, that’s correct. You want to integrate x and treat y as the constant. It’s like in the partial example, which you completed correctly in problem one.”

Petra smiled, nodding as understanding entered her field of vision and she completed the problem with ease. “Thank you Professor! Can you give me a harder problem just to make sure I understood the concept?”

And as Levi did his best to not pay attention to the way she said harder, he opened up the math textbook and selected an exercise, scratching it onto the paper between them and slid it towards her.

The mahogany desk was slightly too tall for Petra to comfortably lean against from the chair, so she sat up and leaned over to solve the problem, orange hair falling from her tucked ears. This time, Levi didn’t even bother looking away since Petra was fully invested in solving the equation, and he felt his pants tighten as he noted the white lace bra she had on underneath, and her round mounds spilling from her top.

“Is this right?” She asked, finally finishing, sitting back down in her seat and Levi coughed as he fought down the flush on his face.

He stared at the problem, willing himself to concentrate on the numbers in her neat handwriting, but he was finding it difficult to focus as he noticed her licking her lips after reapplying some chapstick. He took it line by line until he finally nodded and said, “Good work.”

Petra returned the paper to her folder and touched his hand gently from across the desk. “Thank you Professor Ackerman, it really means a lot to me that you went out of your way to help me. I guess the reviews were right after all.” His eyebrows rose since he didn’t usually make a habit to read his class reviews but relied on the report that the school gave him at the end of each term.

“Oh really? What do the reviews say?”

Petra giggled, and Levi felt his heart stop at the beautiful sound. “Well for one, they say you’re the sexiest teacher on campus, but more importantly, students who take your class are set up for success for linear algebra, which is my goal. I’m an astronomy major.”

He didn’t know why he found that to be a turn on since he worked at a university where there were literally hundreds of majors, but before he had a chance to think, Petra had collected her things and waved as she made for the brass knob of his office door.

“See you next week, Professor!”

And the door clicked shut. Levi’s head was spinning, and if he didn’t know any better, Petra was outright flirting with him, and he was having a difficult time processing that. He moved to lock the office door and he double checked to make sure that he didn’t have any upcoming meetings. Sinfully, he laid back in his chair and closed his eyes while he unbuckled his pants.

She’s your student, you filthy fuck. But her shiny lips, her sweet voice, and her intellect…

He stroked himself, thinking of her, and he came quickly, her name on his lips as he imagined himself taking her between her plaid skirt and thigh high socks.

---

Monday afternoons became a ritual for them, and while Levi attempted to muster up every ounce of professional courage, he found himself unable to say no to her. Every day, after class, she would sweetly ask if she could go over the day’s lecture, and he would say yes and they would wordlessly walk to his office and repeat the same routine.

It was always strictly professional, but he could have sworn that she was intentionally taking off her jacket or sweatshirt in front of him, sometimes leaving her in only a crop top. He decided then that she was purposely trying to kill him because the blood rushed faster to his groin than he could will himself to stop. He had to keep himself firmly behind his desk, not wanting to scare her from his raging hard-on as she pattered on about her misunderstandings for the day, and he would mutely nod, watching her the entire time.

She stopped the week during finals, only visiting him after his final lecture and he missed her presence during the two week absence. He eagerly awaited the day of the final exam, just to pathetically see her again, and there she was, front and center, pencil at the ready.

“This is my last test,” she whispered to him excitedly as he handed her the exam and he gave a thin smile and muttered a ‘good luck’ to her row, but looked at her the entire time.

She was the last to leave, and she heaved a sigh of relief as she handed him her packet, looking joyful.

“How did you find the test, Ms. Ral?” he asked, sparing her a last glance before she left his classroom for the final time. His heart ached at that, but he supposed it was for the best since dreams and visions of her had plagued him since the beginning of the semester.

“I think I aced it, thanks to my excellent teacher.” And she gave him a dazzling smile as she walked away and Levi trailed her form until she disappeared.

--

It was a routine message that Levi sent out to all of his students, that if they wanted to go over their final exam that they could set up office hours. He didn’t allow for debating for points--he had no time for that, and his grading procedure was precise and calculated, but he set up time slots for ease of the students.

So when he saw Petra Ral in his email, requesting for the last time slot before the last day of the grading period, he hurriedly clicked accept even though she received a perfect score on her test.

It was spring, and the promise of a new future hung in the air when Petra entered his office, wearing a similar ensemble to when she first came in, a red plaid skirt, thigh high stockings, and this time, a white knit t-shirt that unbuttoned just at her cleavage. She poked her head in, and he noticed that she didn’t carry a book bag, but opted for a small purse that slung over one shoulder.

“Hi Professor!” she chirped happily, hands clasped behind her back. Levi allowed himself a smile as he took her in.

“What can I do for you Ms. Ral? Surely you don’t have any complaints about this test--congratulations on ruining the curve, by the way. Your classmates are furious.”

Petra laughed, feeling satisfied with herself as she gazed at him--sleeves rolled up to his forearms and he opted for a vest and tie set that complimented his eyes nicely. “I wanted to let you know that I’m taking Professor Hange’s class next semester for linear algebra.”

His heart fell; he was also teaching that class, but maybe it didn’t fit into her schedule. He didn’t meet her eyes as he said, “She’s a tough teacher, but she’s good at what she does. Don’t expect to be let go early, the woman can and will go on for hours.”

Petra smiled. “I’ll be sure to make a note of it.” And she shuffled between her feet as a light blush came to her cheeks. “I wanted to give you a thank you gift, for all the office hours you’ve given to me the past semester.”

Levi raised a thin eyebrow between his glasses. “You don’t have to do that, Ms. Ral. It’s part of my job. You’re an excellent student, you made my job very easy.”

She batted her eyelashes as she stepped closer to him. He was seated in his leather office chair, arms crossed and she took a deep breath as she stood a foot apart from him, hands still playing with each other behind her back. “It’s nothing expensive. And you can call me Petra, Professor, the semester is over.”

And before Levi could question her words, she leaned in and kissed him gently on the cheek. Levi’s heart pounded in his chest, noticing that Petra was visibly shy despite the bold gesture she had just committed and he stared at her, slack jawed.

“Thank you, Professor.”

Levi’s eyes widened, and the hungry need he had for her over the past three months took over. Before he knew it, he was tugging at her wrist and she was straddling his lap, skirt pooling between them as he devoured her into a kiss, lips furiously nipping and biting as she let out an animated moan. Her hands went for his tie, pulling it from his vest and then around his neck where she buried her fingers into his undercut. A shiver of pleasure went down Levi’s spine as he settled his hands at her waist, then her back, and then at the fabric at the end of her shirt.

Panting, Petra raised her arms, signalling for him to take it off, and Levi let out a groan and a fucking hell at her lacy push up bra. Arms wrapped around each other again, Petra leaned into his chest, pressing her tits against him while she grinded against his lap, smiling as she devilishly noticed his hard-on between their clothing. Her breath was hot against his as she moved to unbutton his vest, and he raised himself to take it off, but let out a hiss as their centers made contact.

Not being able to help himself, Levi trailed his fingers up and down her legs, groaning that he was finally able to touch her, and the way the spandex hugged her skin was driving him crazy. He dove between her skirt, reaching for her panties and he played at her apex, noticing that she was incredibly wet, which only turned him on more.

Petra keened and threw her head back in pleasure as he began lavishing her neck with kisses and suckled at her jawline, happy that she tasted as beautiful as she looked. A light floral perfume danced across her flesh, and he inhaled her as he undid the headband from her hair, freeing the locks so he could bury his nose between them.

“Professor, ah, can you please touch me?” She asked weakly, eyes clenched shut from Levi’s ministrations and he chuckled.

“Only because you’ve been such a good student,” he whispered into her ear, and she nodded as he slipped a finger in, and pleasured sighs escaped both of their lips.

“God, you’re so fucking wet. Were you planning on this before you came in?” Levi asked, using his other hand to unbuckle his pants and slid down his zipper.

Petra was finding it harder and harder to think as Levi pumped into her, alternating between two and three fingers, teasing her clit and taking his hands away before she could go any higher. Vision going blurry, she reached for the back of her bra and undid the hook, letting it fall between them and Levi ripped it off, freeing her breasts.

He took a nipple between his teeth and bit down hard, earning a cry from Petra as she begged him to keep touching her while he buried his face into her chest. Petra moved to play with both of her nipples, all while riding against his hand and she felt like her heart was about to explode from Levi’s touch.

She slid her tongue against his lips, drinking him in as she asked him to help slide her panties down, and he obliged, but not before pocketing them into his pants. She shot him a questioning look, and he smirked, “This is my thank-you gift.”

Bashfully, Petra smiled and pawed him between his underwear, stroking his length up and down with her hand and she pulled his waist down just far enough to free his member. She gasped at his size, and Levi let out a hum of satisfaction while she took a moment to gaze at it, providing him with light touches.

“Levi, can I ride you?” She asked demurely, eyes fixated on his dick and he gripped her by the ass to guide her close.

Leaning over, he whispered into her ear, “That’s Professor Ackerman to you.”

Petra keened at his husky voice, and lowered herself onto him, moaning loudly as he breached her, dick hot against her tight entrance.

“That’s a good girl,” he encouraged, holding her close as she steadily bobbed up and down, her wetness providing enough slickness between them. His balls smacked against his legs, and her tits bounced each time she reached his hilt and she cried out.

Wild with lust, Levi toyed with her clit as she continued to ride him, fingers dancing and shaking as she paused to catch her breath. Their eyes met, and with equal fervor, they kissed as Petra braced her hands against his shoulders, pace increasing and then reaching her climax in a frenzy as she bobbed up and down.

“Professor,” she whined, releasing her hands and crying into his collar as she rode out her orgasm.

Levi’s eyes were clenched shut as her walls fluttered around him, her tightness becoming too much for him as he also met his own pleasure, and he pumped into her in short pulses. Breaths panting, he looked up to meet Petra, who was smiling between breaths.

Still sitting comfortably inside her, Levi laughed warily, unsure of where to go from here. Petra, still wrapping her body around his, licked the lobe of his ear as she said sultrily into his ear, “Did that count as extra credit?”

[taechaos]

Oooh Lisa, I really loved that TBL Jungkook x OC scenario😍 what would the dialogue be like if Jungkook thought OC was checking out some other guy but she really wasn’t she was thinking about how she is planning something sweet for him and they kind of argue because he misunderstands until she tells him the reason why and they make up😭❤️ only if you want to of course, you’re awesome Lisaaa, I want you to always know that❤️

before i get into the drabble i just gotta say this: YOU MADE ME SMILE SO HARD thank you so much 😫 you're so sweet ahh makin me happy n shit ;( 💗💗

What's the best time to propose with a promise ring? It's practically engagement, just in a different form, and you can't stop fidgeting in your seat with a giddy grin that you can't seem to wipe off your face. Jungkook likes rings. Promise rings are romantic. The black band wood ring sitting in the pocket of your dress bounces along with your knees in excitement.

In the cozy café, you sit in a booth across from Jungkook who narrows his eyes at you with a playful smirk and a hand holding up his chin. You've been acting different all day, spreading rays of happiness to whoever you cross, and he's curious as to why. It has him suppressing a stupid smile with a press of his lips.

"Are you going to tell me or do I have to ask?"

You break out of your trance and realize you've been staring at him for a whole minute without saying anything. A giggle bubbles up in your throat as you shake your head. "I don't know what you're talking about, but neither." Secrets aren't your forte when you're so impatient to spit it out.

"Hm... alright. I'll wait. You'll tell me sooner or later," he shrugs and leans back, his hand reaching out to place it next to yours so you can play with his fingers. It's more fun for him than it is for you, but it's like clockwork how you immediately start to bend his knuckles and toy with his fingertips.

You're waiting with him after deciding to "propose" after your meals arrive. You trust the service to be quick, and it has you nibbling on your lip with even more impatience. Your toes curl and uncurl, losing yourself to your thoughts of predictions of how the scene will play out again. You remember to look elsewhere this time, not caring as to where your eyes fall.

"Are guesses permitted?"

"No," you sing as your eyes turn into crescents from the force of your smile. You don't look in his direction as he hums in thought.

"That's no fun. I can see you're dying to tell me."

"Mm-mm," you shake your head. He's absolutely right, but you're already zoning out which means time will pass faster for you, so no need to break your unspoken promise of waiting.

He huffs as if disheartened, catching onto your gaze locked on a specific spot, but doesn't stop with his antics. "Babygirl," he quietly sings, attacking your weakness to the pet name as he slowly leans in, "why are you keeping secrets from me?"

You tune him out as you continue imagining his reaction, preparing for best and worst case scenario with a now swollen lip. You get too excited about things, leading to impatience and then obsession, ending with a rush of anxiety. Your facial expression becomes neutral as you fall deeper into wonderland, your teeth still stuck on your bottom lip.

Jungkook sighs and starts wiggling his fingers you hold onto. His other hand travels to your neck and tickles it like he's expecting you to purr like an engine in response, diverting your attention back onto him. You only tilt your head and stay silent, prompting him to glance at your focal point, and just as he's about to look back at you, he glances at the man you're staring at again.

It takes a few glances back and forth for him to register you are actually eyeing someone else in his presence while he's right in front of you. He pulls his hands back as he stares you down for a moment. He calls your name twice until you give a delayed response of a huh?.

The server joins in by placing the dishes on the table, and you clap your hands excitedly before thanking them and locking eyes with Jungkook whose smile has faltered.

"Are you okay?" you worry.

"I'm alright, thanks," he vaguely says, "what about you? Someone catch your eye?"

You chuckle through your nose as you say, "No? Why? Unless you mean yourself, in that case–"

"No, I just feel like I'm interrupting something with the way you couldn't take your eyes off of that guy." He licks lips and arches a brow with an empty gaze. "I can invite him to our table, if you want."

"Huh–"

"I can converse with him about how slutty it is to undress another man with your eyes while you're on a date with your boyfriend, how's that sound?"

"Jungkook–"

"Or maybe I should leave you with him so I can ask other women if they often entertain other men while on a date, hm?"

"I was zoning out," you pout pleadingly. "I was thinking about something."

"Trust me, it's obvious you were thinking about something," he scoffs irritatedly.

Your cheeks flush under the heat of his glare, embarrassed by the accusation and his immediate misunderstanding. "I was thinking about you, the thing I'm so excited about, I didn't even notice him."

"You didn't notice him and yet you completely ignored my existence because you coincidentally zoned out while staring at him? Huh. Let me try that tactic."

"Jungkook," you whine at his cruel sarcasm. "I swear I wasn't staring at him, I just didn't want to be weird by staring at you. Don't you think I'm loyal to you? I love you so much and," you sigh, "I was mentally preparing myself to give you a promise ring."

He knows before anyone else how much you're obsessed with him. It's been obvious since the beginning, and he can't pinpoint the cause of his jealousy, but what was he supposed to think from his observation? That you were planning to gift him such a meaningful thing?

His brows knit in a mix of surprise and confusion. "A promise ring?"

"Yes– I mean unless you don't want it, which is totally fine!" you babble as you take out the jewelry. "I know you aren't shy to say no, but I'm just saying... err, if it's too much commitment..."

He takes the ring you awkwardly hold and doesn't bother inspecting it until it's wrapped around his left ring finger. His lack of hesitiation in wearing it warms your heart as you internally coo. It's so pretty on him.

"I'm already committed to you, stupid girl. The fuck does too much mean?" He closes one eye as he holds up his decorated hand. He likes it. He really likes it.

You stare at him in awe with glimmering eyes until he says, "Perfect. I'll have to get you a matching one." He winks at you as a boyish smile grows on his face. You smile back with absolute adoration.

"Also," he blushes and clears his throat, "sorry about what I said earlier. I mean, you did make it very hard not to get the wrong idea..."

"Sorry," you grin sheepishly, "I space out when I'm concentrated. A-and I'm really happy you like it."

At your flustered state, he bites his lip before pointing at your food. "It's getting cold."

[babiesdreams]

Superhuman +18 Chapter 1 [127]

Warnings: mentions of: blood, rape, traumas, gore (kind of)

Jungwoo’s story:

It’s always been in my blood, but I wasn’t aware of it at first. Maybe I should have noticed in the way my anger came out like a power bust sometimes. Maybe people around me should have noticed before. But now is too late to feel sorry about things.

It isn’t something bad to take advantage of your situations, to help your relatives, It shouldn’t be bad. 

The police’s siren marked the rythm of my heartbeats, but I tried to stay calmed, there was nothing suspicious about a young adult driving his car a few miles /metres away from a recently robbed bank. Not even if they cassually had a bag with a million dollars on the backseat. 

“Can I talk to you sir?” A tall policeman says tapping on my car’s window. “Yes” I politely reply, while I rolled the window down just enough for him to hear me. “Can we inspect your car? There’s been a robbery near by and we wanted to make sure-” My foot quickly stepped over throttle, to start driving through the busy streets. 

My mind was too focused on not driving into other cars that I almost forgot about my powers. After driving through three streets, I stopped the car completely, concentrating like I practiced. Everyone and everything freezed around me. Everything stopped, except me. 

I took my time to escape, as I had literally all the time on my hands. I was so scared of what could happen to me that I simply kept the world on pause for a whole month. Hours, days the all went through like nothing. 

I only stopped because my headaches were getting worse every minute, the pain was way too much to take, so I had to stop using my powers for a while. They eventually got me, and took me to prison, but luckily I could give the money to my family first. I hope they all can enjoy the life they deserved now.

I really hope so.

Taeyong’s story:

It’s always been a curse to me. I never felt normal, I was never normal I guess. I first noticed when I was five. My mom told me I was the best thing that happened to her, and the images passed through my head.

I was a product of a rape, and she tried her best to abort me, but it was too late, and then she just got used to it. She lost her job because of me, and all her friends left her. We moved to a new city and bills were trapping us in. I got to know that when I was only five.

Since then, I could always know when someone lied to me. I thought it was a stupid power, useless and harmful for myself, but it turned out to be harmful for others as well.

Knowing secrets is powerful, much more than what I thought. I got out a job because I knew the boss was cheating on his wife. I got a promotion because I knew a workmate was stealing stuff from the office.

I worked hard since I was fifteen to get to where I am, and I’m not gonna risk it all for a stupid project. I wasn’t gonna, but they have my mother, so I’m here to tell the truth. 

Yuta’s story:

When you’re like me, people misunderstand a lot of things. I was diagnosed with TDAH when I was three. Doctors said I lives a fast life, and that I should relax. They were simply wrong.

I live my life in between pills, xannys and all sorts of medication. But that shit only stops my body, my brain still works an 180% faster than the average human brain. My Iq was qualified as “untestable” and I’ve lives in labs my whole life.

Doctors wanted to figure out what caused my “disease” and they never stopped testing me. 

So I plotted an escape plan on a free hour I had. I faked eating the pills so that I could take back some of my physical speed, and then I left the lab, as fast as I could. When they realized I was out, I was already exactly 10.000 km away from them.

But I didn’t realize how freedom would get me lost, unpathed and really pityful. So I ended up taking drugs, which actually helped me getting some of my brain speed out, and be free of my own thoughts for a while. But drugs led me to a shameful path full of crimes.

Dongyoung’s story:

I’ve always lived apart from other humans. I was trapped into a jail, where the experimented with me. I never saw another human, not that I remembered. Everyone was so scared of my power I guess.

Nobody likes to be manipulated, but it’s something I couldn’t control. They made me believe I was a monster and I acted upon that. I never wanted to be harmful. But do you know how it feels to feel what others feel?

I get to feel others feelings constantly and they all get mixed up, and there’s so much anger in this world, and sometimes I can’t control that anger.

So yeah, maybe I manipulate people, but they made me feel bad first it’s just fair. I don’t want to feel this either.

When I escaped, everyone was too scared of me, I had to turn that into something less harmful, like, like exhaustion. I made them fall asleep, but I didn’t think about the consequences it all may have. 

So when I felt overwhelmed... well you know what happened... I also felt their sadness, the way their souls got out of their bodies, the way they cried their lungs out. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to do that.

So I came here to learn how to control this.

Taeil’s story:

My powers came like something to be grateful for. My family were farmers, and the business kept going down. I still got the motivation to kept the farm going, and helping my family over the hardships of summer. 

I don’t even know how it happened. I guess I just grabbed a bunch of rotten tomatoes and picture them to be the best vegetables I could imagine, and It changed, taking the form I had in my head.

Of course I didn’t tell my parents how I got the perfectly looking vegetables and fruits, but it saved the business, and I kept on doing it until I realized it waisted too much of my energy. 

I want to make sure I can keep this going for more time until we get better, so I want to know how to improve with my powers.

Jaehyun’s story:

Transforming is never easy you know? The way I have to shape my body into something new and different from my original form, is not easy at all. I can transform myself into other humans, animals and even objects. 

It causes my body to get stiff sometimes, and even if the things I transform into are a perfect copy of reality they have certain limits. Human limits I guess. 

I remember this one time I turned into a plane, to escape from a robbery we did at a famous bank, it was kind of epic, but I ended up crashing into the ocean half way. 

The rest is kind of history, everyone knows me and my mate. Rest in peace. But now I want to take a good turn and use my powers for good.  That’s why I came here. But I must say I think I have what it’s needed to be a leader, so if we need a lead I think I can do it.

Mark’s story:

Okay so I was in middle school when this happened. I was too angry at my classmates, because they were always you know bullying me. So the thought came out of nowhere and I was just looking at the boy, and then his nose started bleeding a lot. 

I thought it was just a coincidence, until I bumped into that guy. Yo he was raping a girl, and I got too angry and I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know his veins would explode like that. 

He bleed out in front of my eyes, I will never forget how life escaped his eyes. But the girl kept saying I was a hero so I thought it wasn’t that bad you know. I had the good luck that I was wearing a costume for my theatre classes. 

Media named me as the bomb hero. They thought I used some sort of inner bombs, I don’t know honestly. I just want to control myself to have a normal life for once. 

Johnny’s story:

I thought they were healing powers at first. My mother was at the hospital when I first noticed. I wanted her to get back to normal, and I guess I did. The thing is that I have to know exactly what I want to do to the body.

I knew my mother needed that cancer out so I just pictured it out(? I don’t know how to explain I just did it and she got back at her normal self instantly. 

But It is also harmful, like my brother Mark, I can make organs and veins explode, or modify them as I want, tho I’mm better at healing.

We came here together because we wanted to live as a family, without feeling weird or different. And I feel like we can get that in here.

Donghyuck’s story:

I discovered my powers a week ago but you already know that, you also probably know that I’m the most powerful out everyone here, so I don’t get the point of sharing my story when you literally recruited me. 

972: Lee Donghyuk, it’s a formal aspect we all agreed on, please do as you were told.

The robotic voice resounds all over the room, provocking me to sigh. “Fine. You want to know what I do?” I say, concentrating for a second, before I make the gravity dissappear on the said room. Everyone started to float in the air as I kept my feet on the ground. 

Then gravity came back, when I stopped controlling it, making them all fall into the ground. 

“You didn’t have to do that asshole” Jaehyun said in the distance, and I smiled to his stupid expression. “There’s no point in this anyway” I say, but everything turned a weird shade of blue fastly.

972: Welcome to the unit 127, you have been selected to the protection unit, you will be assigned with daily missions around the world that you will have to accomplish. I will always be watching your actions and if you go against the companies policies, we will inform the police to take you away. As long as you are here you are protected. 972 will always look after you.

“Are you like us?” Mark asked from the distance. The robotic voice answered a yes, that felt odd for everyone, but Taeyong started speaking the truth “She is more powerful than us and she’s leggit. Also she’s hiding behind that wall” The boy speaked calmly. 

Jaehyun turned into one of the security guards body, breaking the glass that was covering the misterious girl with a stong punch. Her soft and calmed expression got us all. She got out of the cage she was in gently, supporting herself on one of the guard’s hand. 

“You didn’t have to break that” She says calmly, repairing the broken mirror like nothing. The pieces slowy got back to place, like nothing had happened, at all. “I trust your ability of keeping secrets from now on, Lee Taeyong” her voice said calmly to the boy who simply nodded.

And like that she left the room, leaving us behind with all sorts of doubts. But I guess that’s how 972 worked, always wanting to keep the misterious atmosphere.

------------------------------------------------------

This is like a character introductions sorta so be patient for more parts pleaseee

Masterlist --requests open-- How to request?  Check out your score.

[nicka-nell]

Friend with the enemy - Chapter 3: An unfortunate reunion

Chapter 2 - Smile for me     |     Masterlist    | Chapter 4 - You belong to me

Chapter: 3/4 | Oikawa x reader

Words: 2.194 

Warning: angst, mention of blood

Your trembling voice is still loud in his ears. Your trembling body is right in front of his eyes. But it gets smaller and smaller until it finally disappears completely. Like petrified he still stands at this point where he has grasped at your wrist. “Oikawa, is everything all right, sweetie?” Bring him back the voice of the woman who destroyed everything. No... He had destroyed everything, and he has now become aware of it. “I’m not your sweetie.” he just hisses. “What? What’s wrong with you?” she asks him sadly. “Listen, Naomi, I made a mistake... It has nothing to do with you, but that kiss just shouldn’t have happened. I’m sorry if you got your hopes up but I have no feelings for you. Please let me through. I want to go to my apartment... alone.” He answers seriously, and before he can get past her, she runs away and calls him what an idiot he is. “Yes, an idiot...” he sighs sadly and opens the door. Powerless, he sinks to the ground. With one arm on his knee he looks to the ceiling. He thought he wasn’t sure that he had feelings for you. He didn’t want to bind himself to you, and at the end he found out that you don’t fit together. He knew exactly he was going to lose you not just as a girlfriend, but as a friend. He thought if he went out with another woman, maybe he could forget his feelings for you and at least keep you as a friend. But all day long, all he had to think about was you. Naomi began to laugh, and he immediately had to think of your laughter, how beautiful it was. No matter what she told him, he always had to think of you and your angelic voice. In front of his apartment he wanted to kiss her to finally get you out of his heart, but he only had to think of you when kissing her, and then he heard your voice... To see you so sad and disappointed, his heart was torn to pieces. Hearing from your mouth not Tooru but Oikawa brought up a painful feeling in him. Hesitantly he pulls out his cell phone and looks at his display with a painful face. As his background, he has a photo of you. You wanted to meet together in the park, but Oikawa was a little longer at practice and had written to you that he was coming later. Since you just got out of school, you had taken a reading out of your pocket that you are treating in English. When Oikawa arrived in the park, he saw you sitting on a bench under a cherry tree. Your hair was blown backwards by the wind, and completely absorbed and focused you had read a book. He couldn’t help but take a picture of you. You looked so peaceful and unbelievably breathtaking to him at that moment. He could have looked at you like that for hours. Now he pinches his eyes and bites his lower lip. “Shit....” he hisses desperately and a tear runs down his cheek. He breathes deeply and then chooses a number that he called far too often when he had problems. “Oikawa? Have you looked at the clock? I want to sleep, you idiot!” The voice from the other line growls into Oikawas ear. “Oikawa?” the voice now asks a little more calmly. “Iwa-chan... I made a pretty big mistake...” Oikawa sighs sadly. “Ah? Did you forget to study for the test tomorrow...? I’m not helping you anymore! I want to sleep.” Iwaizumi responds, but Oikawa sighs again. “You’re right, I’m sorry if I woke you.” he quietly returns, but then he hears Iwaizumis voice. “What's up? You got a minute.”, “Listen Iwa-chan... Can you remember the manager of Shiratorizawa?” Again, it’s all quiet. “Yes of course. She’s a real sight for sore eyes." Iwaizumi laughs embarrassed. “Yeah, that’s her... and how can I say that... We met, and she asked me if I could imagine a relationship with her.” With his last words he swallows and does not know exactly how to continue talking. “Yeah, but... This is a good thing.”, “Yes, no, so... I was afraid of breaking up our friendship if we didn’t fit together. I thought... When I meet someone else... another woman... then my feelings for her disappear and I could at least keep her as a buddy or something. Well... Anyway, in the end, it was like I kissed that Naomi from our stage and (y/n) saw it. She doesn’t want anything to do with me anymore...." his voice sounds almost fragile. “You got what, huh? You’re such an idiot, Oikawa!” Iwaizumi shouts at him. “I know that myself! You better tell me what to do... I... I can’t think clearly... I know I fucking made a mistake but... damn it!” With his words he notices how his voice gives in more and more, and he starts to cry like a little child. “Oikawa?” a little unsettled Iwaizumi calls for him, but he does not answer. “Oikawa?” again no answer. “I’ll be right with you..." All night long, Iwaizumi tries to calm Oikawa down. In vain. - “Here you have your water bottles.” You say as you approach Semi and Tendou. They thank you joyfully and you return their thanks with a smile. “Oh look! Here come the guys from Aobajohsai!” Tendou suddenly calls and looks past you. Right... Today you have another training match against Aobajohsai. It’s been two weeks since you tried to forget Oikawa. You haven’t talked to him or seen him for two weeks. He didn’t write to you either. Looks like he’s forgotten you faster than you have. Because you used to sit in the living room with Ushijima and throw yourself in his arms in silence and were crying. He still doesn’t know that Oikawa is the one who hurt you so much. “(y/n)? Is everything all right?” Ushijimas voice brings you back to reality. “Hm? Yes...” you answered him a little lost in your thoughts. Your opponents are entering the gym and welcoming you all. You all also warmly welcomes them. All this time, you try not to pay attention to Oikawa. Not looking him in the eye. But when the game starts, you can’t help looking at him. Only now do you realize how bad he actually looks. Anything but rested. Dark circles make his beautiful chestnut-brown eyes look colorless and dull. Not only has his appearance changed. But he also seems different. He is not really at the game and blames all his fellow players for his own mistakes. He shouts at everyone, and he is irritated at the slightest question. Iwaizumi tries to calm him down again and again and tells him to concentrate on the game. However, he does not really succeed. You win the first set and in the second you are on the verge of winning it too. All you need is one more point, and Ushijima will make a massive quick attack. But the ball does not hit the ground. The ball hits Oikawa with a loud bang exactly to the temple and his body sinks without tension to the ground. Iwaizumi wants to catch him, however, he does not make it in time and Oikawas head already hits the bench in front of him. Now he's lying bleeding on the ground. A loud humming is heard in your ears. You see people running in slow motion and their lips moving, but no sounds come out of them. In shock, you get up from your bench and without knowing it, you scream for Oikawa. Your legs are moving and you want to walk to the motionless body that is bleeding heavily on the head as Ushijimas strong arms hold you back. “It's nothing for your eyes, (y/n).” He tries to explain as calmly as possible. Their coach has already called the emergency doctor and it does not take long until he comes to the hall and takes Oikawa with him. Iwaizumi also leaves the hall and accompanies the emergency doctors to the hospital. You still stand there with shaky legs, completely dissolved and are only held up by Ushijimas strong arms. You may have won the game, but nobody can really be happy right now. “Come... I’ll drive you to the hospital.” Ushijimas voice will bring you back. A barely visible nod is enough for him to walk with you towards the exit. He says goodbye to everyone with a nod and goes out with you. Arriving in his car, you’re still looking out the window. “I didn’t know Oikawa was your acquaintance, who made you so sad...” Ushijima says calmly, but continues to look at the street in front of him. “How... do you know it’s Tooru?” You ask, still looking out the window. “Your sad face already gave me a clue when I told you the Aobajohsai team would be here soon. And your reaction to his accident confirmed my theory." He replies in a calm voice. Of course, he knew... After all, it’s Ushijima. He can read you like an open book. “Hm... He should come to Shiratorizawa... Not only because he can play me the balls, he could also watch you for hours.” Ushijima grins and tries to cheer you up with his words. “Well... I don’t think he’d be watching me for hours. After all, he kissed another woman a short time after I told him that I could imagine more than just friendship." You sigh with a cool undertone and now look at Ushijima, who looks at you with big eyes. A hesitant “Oh...” slips away, and he thinks about what to say to you. “Maybe it was a misunderstanding... Maybe you should talk to him...?" Wondering about his own words, he looks at you brooding as he stops at a red light. “I don’t want a man to hurt you. I want you to be happy... And I’ll do everything I can to make sure Oikawa doesn’t hurt you again. But you won’t get over him if you don’t deal with this problem with him. Obviously, you still have feelings for him. So you should confront him. Let him explain everything to you and then you can still think about what’s best for you. But I promise you, I won’t let him near you unless you want him to." His voice is full of power, but not loud. "Thank you, Wakatoshi." You answered him with a smile. “We are there. Go in, I’ll wait for you down here.” Now he also smiles and you get out of his car. At the hospital, you are about to see a doctor when Iwaizumi meets you. He tells you that everything is fine and that Oikawa only had a slight concussion and a laceration that was stitched. Relieved, you thank him for the information and ask him if he can give you Oikawas room number. Without hesitation, he gives you these and tells you how to get there. Just as you’re leaving, he calls for you again. “Wait! Listen... Oikawa really screwed up. I don’t want to talk about what he did, either, but he’s been in really bad shape these past few weeks. Did you fucking see him today? He looked like fucking hell. Please talk to him again... I think you’re the only one who can still get through to him." Thoughtfully he looks into your eyes. “See you (l/n)." He adds and walks out of the hospital with his hands in his pockets. Arriving in Oikawas hospital room, you see that he is still sleeping deeply and firmly. Quietly you sit down on a vacant spot from the bed and look at him. He looks really terrible... Without realizing it, you reach for his hand and hold it subconsciously in your hands. Sadly, you look at him as you feel his hand squeezing your hand. You look at him and notice how he slowly opens his eyes and looks at you for a moment. He quickly lowers his head and turns it aside. “You of all people have to see me like this... What are you even doing here?" he moans coldly. You let go of his hand and your chest is tightening up again. “I’m here because... everyone was worried about you. Nothing more. Now that you’re okay, I can go back." You lie and get up from his bed. “Wait!" he calls after you. “Can... can we talk?” He looks at you with a desperate look. “When you are out of the hospital...” you answer a little sad because you’re afraid of this conversation. Without turning to him again, you leave the room and go home with Ushijima.

[reiven2017]

Monopoly with me.

Chapter 2.

The raven stretched, dispersing blood in the joints. Her neck moaned plaintively and made a sound similar to a wound spring when the girl looked too sharply to the side. In the distance, half the sun was shining, and there was an azure sky above her head and Raven realized that it was morning. She cringed when the cold air seemed to pass through her. The weather in the mountains was ... unstable. And what did she have a day for today? I’d better not say anything. The girl frowned when she heard a short scream, and then the rough male voices. Reason clearly echoed in her head. “This is something that definitely doesn't concern you. Go on your joyful dear Raven. ” But Raven ignored the voice and came closer to the edge of the roof. Two black men's backs caught her eye and something light, sandwiched and hunched over peeped out from behind them. Climbing closer, Raven realized that it was a girl. Tears flowed down her cheek, and her mouth opened and closed in a silent cry. Her half-tattered dress hung miserably in shreds from her shoulder. Raven frowned even more, and her eyes darkened. She quickly felt the handle of the dagger, on her belt, and ready to rush at them, she froze. One of the men moved away from the victim and the Royal Guard badge flashed on his chest. Damn it. Rachel hesitated, considering how likely the chances were that she would be next to the poor thing. Going to men was not a good idea anyway. They excelled in strength. And go to the soldiers of al-Ghul ... you know, imagine a huge herd of bulls that scoot at you. Presented? Great, now imagine that these bulls have sharp swords on their horns. Well, how great are the chances of dying. The girl cried out again and this was a signal for Raven. She shoved the entire internal dialogue away, focusing on not catching the Lyuli. Raven jumping, knocked down one of them, landing on him, when the other already pulled out a sword. The girl jumped from the man and threw up the blade. She took a fighting stance, I do not know what next. “Shine, Rachel. Congratulations, you’ll be buried with a sign {Dumb idiot deciding to act as hero} "The guy maliciously grinned and growled some curse in ancient Arabic in her direction. It is so good that she did not know this language. Second, his colleague pulled out his sword and threw away his It’s much more interesting, of course. The victim slid down the wall, reveling in sobs. It was the Raven who needed to sob now, and her. The man whom she knocked down jumped to his feet and did not even try to get his weapon. He grinned caustically and shook his head.

“To save another and expose yourself to a blow, how stupid it is.” Can't you find a puppy? - Yes! The raven barely suppressed the answer before he managed to slip from her lips. She knew perfectly well that this was stupid. Raven, you didn’t even let this blade into action when you didn’t! What will they be from this bullshit? You do not know how to fight. You do not know how to fight. You don't know how to fight, you fool! Sweat ran down her back, and adrenaline rose in her blood. Her skin burned under a mask and Raven was grateful that at least he had put on a hood. The two began to slowly approach, and the girl was moving away, and only now Raven realized that they were in the fucking dumb street. There was one solid wall behind and the girl who was attacked fell apart across. Fainted from fright. This is definitely not what she needs. Rachel began to randomly run her gaze through the space, which was rapidly decreasing as the two approached like hunters following a small mouse. And here, as a salvation, Raven saw from the side, a shovel. Old, rusty. She could swear that she literally glowed with snow-white lights. She rushed in that direction, at that moment when one of the soldiers had already managed to attack her. He stumbled. Geese saved Rome, why not a spade to save her? Raven hit him on the head in a huge sweep. The man went limp and staggered. He crashed to the ground, clutching his head. The other, without wasting time, threw a shurekin, just like a girl in her forearm. The raven grimaced, her face contorted in pain as the steel cut through her skin, digging sharp spikes into her hand. She wanted to cry, but the instincts of self-preservation did not let her lose her mind. In front of her stood another soldier, much more than the one whom she hranulo a shovel. He rushed to her, throwing the spatula to the side and grabbed Raven by the throat. The girl cluttered, trying with all her might to tear this rotten hand away from herself. The man grinned and began to compress his fingers harder. E

- Well, you son of a bitch, let me even look in your face before death. - No. Just not that. Raven still had a little hope for life, and if they see her face, the hunt will begin. These soldiers will definitely want revenge. She had already imagined how she would be allowed to go around, a chill went all over her body, and Raven clung even harder, trying to kick the attacker. At least somewhere. So the girl woke up and, seeing what was happening, picked up with trembling hands lifted the cobblestone from the ground and began to slowly approach, swaying. Yes, you are faster! The soldiers turned out to be quicker and in one sharp jerk, tore off her hood and ... froze. He was stared at by beautiful amethyst eyes framed by a layer of fluffy eyelashes. He blinked with wide eyes, not believing that a girl had attacked them. But they did not give him time to think. Due to shock, his grip loosened and Raven forcefully pushed him with both legs away. He fell, falling on his back, when he did not have time to move away, he received a stone. The raven fell to her knees, exhausted, hoarsely swallowing the air. Her hands darted to her throat, and then to her forearm and gently felt the flesh. The wound seemed to throb and burn. Streams of blood were already streaming down his arm and Raven winced. She sucked in air through clenched teeth and jerked out a shureken. Fucking fucking shit. More blood spattered. She tore a piece from her sleeve and bandaged the wound. Raven cast a short glance at the two carcasses, burning with the urge to stick this shurekin to them in one dry, hard-to-reach revenge. Raven stared at the girl. She did not blink at the soldier whom she had hit with a stone. Light blonde. The raven moaned and rose to its feet, brushing off dust. Only now a girl looked at her.

- Thank. She whispered softly, with her lips. Ha. Rachel grinned. It was she who just saved her.

- What is your name? - asked the Raven, again pulling his hood and looking around in search of eyes that could become random witnesses.

- Adila.

- So, Adila, let's agree that you will erase my face from memory and forget this hour. Do you get it? - Raven looked at her. The tone of her voice sounded calm, but there was clearly a threat in him. The girl nodded obediently. - Good.

Raven again carefully looked into her face and made sure that she had truncated the whole scale of the problems that she could provide, she turned around and took a step from this street. She pulled on her hood harder. These fuckers won't forgive this. This place does not tolerate this and literally all the bones in her body insisted that this was not the end. Hmm, she imagined her start to the day clearly wrong.

- - Mother is my woman! - exclaimed the old man, stepping out from behind the bar and threw up his hands to the sky. His wide-open eyes ran excitedly over the familiar figure into the hood, and his lips extended into a smile. The raven grimaced at the disgusting smell of alcohol floating in the air. And how does Gassan endure it?

“Raven, isn't that you?” Oh my god! The thin old man cried noisily, hastily wiping his hands on the apron. Bright paint poured on his face, leaving no trace of that tired person and it seemed that even the ancient wrinkles on his forehead were smoothed out. He cast a short look at the crowd of onlookers gathered at the tables, which were now carefully studying what was happening, drinking directly from the bottles of arak. The man nodded toward the stairs leading to the second floor and the girl followed him without asking questions. Only when her bony shadow darted into the room, securely hidden from prying eyes, did the girl pull off her hood. Before he could recover, the man was captured by her hands, covered with the skin of an animal, when she hugged him tightly. The girl made a sound reminiscent of a contented cat and laid her head on the old man's shoulder. The man hugged her back.

- Hi Gassan. Raven whispered softly, not unclenching her arms. Her heart was beating happily in her chest, content with the moment.

- Hello, my angel. - in her manner answered the man. He took the girl by the shoulders, gently moving away and looked around. “How prettier and grown you are, Raven.” Straight beauty indescribable. And your pallor remained with you. Amazing - He thoughtfully stared at her face, and then, as if it dawned on him, he reached out and uttered dumbfounded. - - My angel, how did you end up here? - the girl giggled, relishing the expression of complete misunderstanding of the situation. She smiled conspiratorially and deliberately slowly explained:

- How, how, arrived three days ago. From caravan to caravan and to Ghula. Her voice sparkled merrily and shimmered with carelessness, as if that was what the whole world had been dedicated to.

- Three days?! But how so! Holy Manat, - the man looked up, turning to the gods and squinting at the girl. “Why did you order that this masterful girl come to me just now?” Oh, I will die of a broken heart. - He theatrically put his hand on his chest and exhaled sadly. Raven burst into fervent laughter as a child who had just seen the best performance in life.

“No, well, look at her.” I am seriously unhappy that you decided to visit your old friend so late, my angel.

- There were things. What can you do? - She spread her arms and grunted easily.

- Oh, how busy everyone is. Gassan clicked in displeasure and shook his head.

- Come on. How are you?

- Good, my angel, good.

- I heard Zakir also in the city. Do not know where to find it? - the man froze for a moment, his face did not express anything and Raven held her breath. For several minutes there was a deadly silence, and the air cooled. His eyebrows stiffly converged on the nose, forming a deep wrinkle on his forehead. Gassan's voice became extremely serious when, after a pause, he answered:

“You should take hold of the mind, my angel.” The raven looked at him embarrassedly and arched a questioning eyebrow in an arc. AND? He says that she is that. Fool?

- What?

- - You would throw this business, ignoble, Raven. The old man muttered grimly, looking off to the side, clenching his teeth and exhaling heavily. He seemed upset. The girl cheerfully waved him off.

- What are you doing? Yes, everything will be fine with me. - She tried to make her voice more relaxed when Gassan again clicked disapprovingly. He exhaled heavily, as if resigned to something.

- Good. I am before him, my angel. And now, I need to go to work.

“I'll come again tomorrow.”

He woke up on the street when the moon had already risen in the sky. His head hurt and throbbed. The man lifted himself up on his elbows, moaning softly. Next to him was his partner. Vidocq was no better.

- Woke up? - he asked. But the man did not hear him. A thousand and one ideas were carried in his head, rampant revenge. Pictures of that drunken face surfaced. Such a city will not be difficult to find. And when he got to her, God forbid her, heaven had not seen such a thing.

[something-tofightfor]

Are there any headcanons some writers have that you don’t agree with? What are some big ones? Do you disagree because they don’t fit your perception of the character(s) or because they don’t fit the character, period?

This is a loaded question, ma’am.  Well, the first thing I’ll say is this: people write what they want to write. They characterize people the way that they want to, and they focus on the traits that they want to when they build their characters. This also goes for what people choose to read, too! Fanfiction allows there to be something for everyone, and that’s amazing. 

It doesn’t matter what genre or fandom, there are always so many interpretations of things to provide a variety of content by a lot of really talented writers - but that doesn’t mean that every single story or headcanon is going to be something that every reader agrees with. And that’s life - it’s no different than published work or TV or movies... which is why we write and read in the first place, right?

There are a lot of characterizations of certain characters that I don’t agree with that I’ve seen and read - but I’m sure that the same goes for people that read my work too.  (Under a cut because I am wordy)

I’ll answer your second question first:  I think a lot of it is that they don’t seem to fit with what we know of characters in canon, and it kind of bothers me when people consistently throw away every aspect of canon just because they don’t like them. There’s a huge difference in reshaping things to work in an AU (what I’m doing with Billy’s injuries in Steel City) or a to give something a different outcome (Logan’s choice to seek help instead of self-destructing in HCtS) and flat out re-creating the character to make them fit into a specific narrative.  When something is a flat out AU, I can look past it much more easily. In that scenario, you’re supposed to look at things as completely different. Sure, names will be the same, maybe professions, certain parts of the backstory... but an AU is a license to change a ton - and when done properly, they can be amazing.  And while I think that everything fanfic writers write is an AU to some extent, the truth is that not everyone reads stories because they want a complete turnaround from canon and from what we know, so everything in a story being different than expected is jarring. That’s a personal preference - definitely - but you asked. I don’t read a story because I want to know how a completely fictionalized version of Billy reacts to XY and Z. I’d like to see him worked into a scenario that’s different - but see how HE handles it. 

Take Logan out of Westworld? He’s just a businessman with some serious familial issues and an addiction problem. Benjamin completely removed from Julia and the Days? He’s a middle-aged man with a shady past and no money or solid place to stay. There are certain core characteristics that need to be kept, otherwise, it’s literally just Ben’s face and you’re Mad Libs-ing in a job and a personality.  And to answer your first question, there are many. And again, it’s just a personal preference because I try to keep my writing as in-character as I possibly can ... so when I read, it’s hard for me to disconnect from that. So while I don’t want to call any specific writer or story out here because that isn’t the point, there are a lot of overarching headcanons and characterizations that it’s really hard for me to get past.

The biggest one - and I know, know, KNOW I’m going to get shit for this one - is that everyone is so quick to write these guys wanting kids and to settle down. Of course, we want to imagine Billy and Logan and Ryan and even Benjamin healthy and happy and with people they love... but the truth is that not everyone’s definition of a happy or fulfilled life includes kids... or marriage. So being quick to include kids or the desire to have kids or just the feeling that children are necessary pulls me out of stories a lot. 

I actually don’t even read ones where I know the characters have kids, because I just don’t identify with that Reader character or that chosen lifestyle. ** The exception is Logan with Emily, because he’s the best uncle ** 

Love is another thing. With Billy and Logan in particular - it’s hard for me to comprehend them going from 0-60 in no time at all and just... being over the moon for someone and then expressing it. Especially Billy. Logan in canon is so much closer to being ready to love someone because he at least knows what love looks and feels like - he had his mom and he had Juliet. Billy didn’t. Benjamin is the only character we’ve seen that foolishly falls in love quickly. And Ryan? You gotta stay in contact with someone or stay in one place long enough to fall in love. You might know you have feelings for someone really quickly, but it’s not just meet - go out to eat once - profess love - drop everything - get married - pop out kids. 

Individual characters:

Billy: 

Without a good reason, Billy’s not going to meet someone and immediately fall in love with them. He spent 20+ years keeping people out, and there’s no way in hell one night is enough for him to drop his defenses entirely and accept someone into his life.  Billy using pet names pulls me out of a story really fast, especially in bed. A sarcastic ‘sweetheart’ is about all I feel like you’d get out of him. I don’t think he needs to rely on talking to someone in bed in order to keep them in the moment. He says NOTHING in bed with Madani, and again with Krusty, and he was straight-up playing Madani, so if he was one to use pet names and dirty talk to bait someone... it would have happened.  Billy never opened Anvil so that he could shower other people with gifts. His money is meant to be his own, and while I don’t think he's stingy, I don’t think he’s going to drop obscene amounts of money on someone, even if he’s in a relationship with them (in canon - and EVEN for HNH reader). Romance - in the knock you off your feet sense - is not EVER going to be in his wheelhouse. 

S2 Billy is not a child. Stop treating him like one. In the beginning, maybe...but the more he learns and grows and remembers, the emotions that he has aren’t tantrums - they’re a very real mixture of fear and anger and misunderstanding. He literally doesn’t know why he did what he did or how everything went wrong - but that doesn’t make him a child. 

Logan:

Logan is more than a sex-crazed millionaire. That is a front. And I know that he’s going to be great in bed and very hands-on with his partners, but canon Logan uses sex and excess to keep people AWAY...not to pull them closer. 

Logan doesn’t want or need extravagant gifts.... because he can get anything he’d ever want for himself. It’s more about the thought than the money for him.  Logan is a lot of things, but him being a dick and belittling someone for being of a different socioeconomic status really bothers me. 

Ryan: 

... Very few people write for Ryan, so there’s little here that I take issue with, except maybe that in some of the stories I’ve seen people seem to confuse his lack of a formal education with him being uneducated in general.  Benjamin: 

Benjamin is impulsive but he is not stupid. 

Caspian:

Every time someone writes Caspian as being hellbent on adhering to tradition and following the Narnian customs and rules of succession I want to rip my hair out.  Don’t sit there and try to tell me that a King has to have a blood heir when the Pevensies are proof that ANYONE can be a King or Queen of Narnia, no questions asked. They weren’t even FROM Narnia, and they got thrones. It’s not about blood - it’s about integrity and a person’s true desire to lead the people and keep them safe and happy. 

** One more overall thing that takes me out of a story faster than anything is the use of Y/N. Maybe I’m an idiot, but every time I see those I think “yes/no” and not “your name”... and it throws me. **

I’m gonna step off my soapbox now. BUT. I will end this by saying: 

As much as I disagree with some of these qualities and traits in writing - when they are done super well, I don’t even notice them. Some of my favorite stories are “Y/N” inserts. One of my favorite Logans calls his girl princess. There’s a coffee shop AU that I absolutely loved and it changes the main character COMPLETELY.  It’s all subjective. I’m not saying any of this to offend anyone, and so I hope that if any other writers read this whole thing and feel as if I’m calling them or their choices out - that isn’t the point. I’m not trying to hurt feelings or pick apart your writing, but this is how I look at characters and the way people portray them when I choose what I want to read.

I write for a living. Like, actual get-paid-to-put-words-on-paper writing. I have to look at details for my work. Things have to make sense. There has to be clear connecting threads. And that makes it much more difficult for me to completely disconnect from that mindset when I write or read. I can’t help it.  TLDR: Write what you want to write. Read what you want to read. Think what you want about these characters and stick to it. But know that not everything you post is going to get the kind of engagement you hope for - because not everyone is able to suspend disbelief about the characters they’ve spent HOURS growing to love and carefully thinking about when you change 95% of their canon characteristics to fit your plot. 

[trilliastra]

Nobody knows exactly how it works or why some thoughts pass through the invisible connection and others don't. The romantics say it's destiny, fate, while the scientists keep researching, experimenting and groaning in frustration when they can't find the answers.

Destiny, science – Derek doesn't really care about the reason, he just wants the fucking music to stop.

“He's singing Taylor Swift.” He groans, thumping his head against the table he's supposed to be paiting. Boyd looks up from where he's sketching their new project and snorts. “Again.”

“At least it's not Mariah Carey!” Erica yells from the front room and Derek takes a deep breath.

“Small mercies.” He mutters under his breath and goes back to work.

He doesn't know much about his soulmate, only woke up one morning and knew it's a guy around his age with brown hair and brown eyes. If only he could have a name to work with, he sighs, reaching out for his bottle of water.

It's not always annoying, Derek concedes. Mostly, he enjoys having someone in the back of his mind, always there, always with him. Sometimes he can feel a happiness that's not his when he's feeling particularly down and other times he's the one that tries to send some comfort through their connection, when the sadness invades his mind.

They share their dreams sometimes too, Derek had some vivid nightmares about an unknown woman dying in a hospital bed and others where he kisses a red-haired girl he never even met.

“You'll find him.” Boyd says, suddenly, and Derek startles, looking up at his best friend. Sometimes he forgets how observant Boyd is.

“Yeah.” Derek sighs when his friend touches his shoulder. “I know.” He says, but he's not entirely sure that's true.

–

He dreams about him that night. They are holding hands and watching the sunset at his family's old cabin – Derek's favorite place in the world. They stay quiet, only enjoying each others company, and Derek feels the love so real and strong that when he wakes up his chest is aching.

“Oh, baby.” His mom says when Derek shows up unannounced for breakfast and immediately drops his head on her shoulder. “You'll find him.” She says.

“When?” Derek sobs. It's hard to feel so complete and then have it taken away from him every day when he wakes up.

“It will happen, baby.” His mom keeps saying, rocking him back and forth. Soon his dad joins them and Derek only sobs harder. “I promise.”

Derek wishes he could believe her.

–

“You look like shit.” Erica says when he steps into their shop and the old lady appraising the chairs Boyd finished making last week glares at her.

“We have a customer.” He points out and Erica rolls her eyes, running one hand over her growing belly. “I'm fine.” He promises, kissing her cheek and managing a passable smile.

“You do look like shit.” Boyd affirms, handing him a mug of coffee. “You can go home, you know?” He says, softly. “That table is not due for another week.”

“I need to keep myself busy.” Derek only says and Boyd keeps to himself for the rest of the morning, even though he and Erica keep giving him worried glances that Derek manages to ignore. When he's working he tends to forget everything around him, focusing only on his hands and the wood.

He loses track of time, whistling to himself as he works, only stopping when Erica comes running into their workshop, wide-eyed. “The baby just kicked.” She announces, hands on her belly, as Boyd moves faster than Derek's ever seen, scrambling to his feet and reaching out for his wife. “Oh.” She says, giggling. “Did you feel it?”

“Yeah!” Boyd smiles, turning to him with mad eyes. “Come feel it!”

Derek swallows hard when he touches Erica's belly carefully. “Shit.” He blurts out when he feels the baby moving, can't help but laugh along with his friends. “This is –”

“So fucking weird.” Erica admits, grinning, before hugging him. “You'll get your happy ending too, Der.” She whispers, using his old nickname.

Derek shakes his head fondly, pulling back to watch his two best friends smile at each other. They had a hard time too, he remembers, too many misunderstandings keeping them apart for the majority of their junior year in college.

We are humans, Derek remembers his dad telling him when Laura's soulmate left her for another girl only to come back two years later begging for forgiveness, we are not perfect.

Soulmates are a very special thing, but it doesn't always mean happily ever after. Derek's been surrounded by many couples in love, but he also heard the gruesome stories – pain, heartbreak, murder.

Derek smiles as he watches Boyd kneel in front of his wife and press a kiss on her belly. He doesn't want perfect, he just wants a happiness like this.

–

“You're frowning.” Erica pokes at his forehead, her feet on his lap as he sketches a dresser for another customer. Boyd left a few minutes ago to buy their lunch, so Derek had to be the one to handle the drawing even though it isn't his best skill. “Is he singing another Taylor Swift song?”

“No.” Derek says, handing the drawing to the customer and receiving a smile in return. “It's some weird song about a beacon on a hill? In California?”

“Oh my god.” Erica chokes on her water, laughing.

“Yeah.” Derek shrugs, he already knew his soulmate has questionable music taste. “He's weird.”

“There's a town called Beacon Hills in California.” Their customer says distractedly, still looking at the sketch. “My wife's grandmother lived there.”

Derek blinks. “What?”

“Yeah.” The man says, arching an eyebrow as he looks up at Derek. “It's near Sacramento, I think.”

That's – no. “Fuck.” Derek blurts out, ignoring the man's horrified look.

“What?” Erica asks, looking at Derek with wide eyes.

He stands up suddenly, heart hammering inside his chest. “I think my soulmate just gave me his address.”

–

Derek buys the plane ticket on impulse, only remembers to tell his parents when he's already boarding to Sacramento that same afternoon. He doesn't even read the replies just turns off his phone and proceeds to freak the fuck out during the four-hour flight.

It's – too good to be true. What if he's reading this wrong? What if this is just a stupid song like that one about a llama that he sang for a whole day a few years ago? What if – he doesn't want Derek?

“I can't do it.” He calls Erica as soon as he arrives at the airport.

“Yes, you can.” Erica answers. “He wanted you to find him, Derek.”

“But what if –”

“No more what ifs.” She practically yells. “Don't think about anything, just get into the car and drive. It will be worth it, I promise.”

“You can't know that.” He insists.

“Can too.” She sing-songs. “I'm pregnant, I know everything.”

Derek snorts. “That's not true.”

“Last week I knew it was going to rain.” She points out and Derek can hear Boyd saying 'that's true' in the background. “See?” Erica says. “Just let yourself be happy, Derek.” She whispers softly and Derek feels like crying.

“Okay.” He finally agrees. “Wish me luck?”

“Always.”

–

Derek almost drives right back around when he notices the police cruiser parked in the driveway, but he remembers Erica's words and takes a deep breath. It will be worth it, he whispers to himself and knocks on the door.

He only has to wait a minute before a guy around Derek's age is opening the door. “Can I help you?” He asks, leaning against the door frame and smiling at him.

Derek smiles back, looking into those brown eyes he's been dreaming about. “Your music taste is awful.”

The guy blinks before letting out a full body laugh and throwing himself at Derek. “You found me.” He whispers against Derek's neck, clinging to Derek's shirt desperately.

“Yeah.” Derek whispers back, holding him just as hard. “I finally found you.”

–

“I felt it, you know?” Stiles - his soulmate - tells him once they are inside the house, lying on the couch together. “You were so - lonely. Especially in the mornings.”

“It was hard to wake up after the dreams.” Derek confesses, presses his hand over Stiles’ heart. “I had everything I wanted and then -”

“I know.” Stiles says, touching his cheek. They just met and still, Derek can’t imagine a more perfect feeling. “That’s why I made the song. It was a long shot, but -”

“It worked.” Derek says.

“Yeah.” Stiles goes silent for a moment, before pulling back to look Derek in the eye. “Do you think we would have found each other? No matter what?” He asks. “Even without the song?”

“I don’t know.” Derek answers, honestly. “But we found each other now, right?”

Stiles - his soulmate, his, only his - smiles. “Yeah. We did.”

-

“See?” Erica says, smiling as David reaches out for Derek. “I told you it was going to be worth it.” She winks, watching Stiles and Boyd carry a box into the house.

Derek tickles his godson, smiling back at her. “Yeah, as usual you were right.”

“And you better never forget that.”

“Oh,” Stiles says, circling Derek's waist with his arm and making stupid faces just to make David laugh, “I want one.” He says.

Derek shakes his head – they've had this conversation before. “One more year.”

“Fine.” Stiles whines, pressing a kiss on Derek's cheek. “I love you.” He whispers in Derek's ear, before pulling back and going to help Boyd with another box.

I love you too, Derek doesn't need to say it out loud to know that Stiles heard it anyway.

[fleimkepakosskairipa]

Inspired by this post.

Okay, but like, imagine College AU Murphamy knowing that they like each other but Bellamy doesn’t want to come out yet and Murphy won’t be his dirty little secret.

They get drunk one night at a party and end up making out in a spare bedroom before falling asleep next to each other, holding hands.

Bellamy wakes up first and freaks out, practically jumps up and starts pacing around the room and breathing heavily, trying to remember what happened last night and who saw.

His footsteps wake up Murphy, who takes a few seconds to just look at the way the sun lands on Bellamy’s face, his messy bed head that’s getting more and more messed up by him running his fingers through it over and over again.

“We didn’t sleep together if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Bellamy almost jumps, again, not noticing that he was awake.

“We didn’t?”

“Didn’t even get our pants off.”

“Did anyone see?”

“I was a little too busy with your tongue down my throat to really pay attention, but I don’t think anyone saw.”

“Okay. Good.”

“Thanks.”

“I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Than how did you mean it?”

“I meant.... I just didn’t mean it like that, okay?”

“Right. So you didn’t mean that I’m good enough for a messy make-out when no one’s looking, but anyone actually seeing it would be the end of the world?”

“Murphy.” He sighs out. It’s going wrong, everything’s going wrong. This shouldn’t have happened, last night shouldn’t have happened, they should have just stayed friends, why did he do this?

“Don’t bother. You think you’re the first person to sleep with me and then be ashamed of it? Although most people that do don’t do much actual sleeping.” And he’s up and off the bed faster than Bellamy can really realize what he’s said or where he’s going.

He tries to find him, but Murphy is already halfway down the stairs before Bellamy leaves the room and he’s way too hungover to keep up.

That’s not what I meant, that’s not what I meant, that’s not what I meant.

I’m not like that, I’m not like that, I’m not like that.

I don’t want to do it again, I don’t want to do it again, I don’t want to do it again.

Bellamy goes to his classes, but can’t concentrate.

Murphy skips his classes and can’t concentrate.

They already made plans to hang out together with friends and both refuse to cancel.

It’s awkward.

It’s silent.

There’s something different with the two of them and everyone can sense it but no one else know’s why.

Bellamy keeps his eyes on the floor, too afraid of accidentally looking at Murphy to take the chance of looking at anyone.

Murphy glares at him, daring Bellamy to look him in the eyes, to admit that they kissed, to tell their friends that he told Murphy him liked him and thought he was pretty and wanted to be with him.

“Okay, seriously, what is up with you two?” Octavia finally asks after her fifth attempt at getting one of them to talk and getting a one word answer from Bellamy and silence from Murphy.

“Nothing.” Bellamy says, too quickly.

“Why would you think that anything happened?” Murphy asks, finally taking his eyes off of Bellamy and looking at Octavia.

“Because you two are being really fucking weird.”

“Ask him.” Murphy says, pointing at Bellamy as he slunches over in his chair.

“Nothing.”

“Bullshit.” Octavia looks between the both of them, trying to decide who to focus on.

“He’s upset about last night.”

“What happened last night?”

“Nothing.” Bellamy can feel pink come to his cheeks, his heart rate speed up and his hands get clammy.

“Apparently, Bellamy is fine with me liking guys as long as he doesn’t have to be anywhere near me when I’m with one.”

“What?”

“That’s not it and you know it.”

“Yeah, I do know it.” And with that, Murphy is up and walking away again. Not running, he won’t run away, he won’t show that much weakness, so he walks away as fast as he can without seeming like he’s running away like a scared little kid and doesn’t let his shoulders slump and the tears fall out until he’s at least a few blocks away from all of them.

And he doesn’t come back.

He ignores all of them besides Miller and Jasper for almost a month, refusing to talk to Bellamy or anyone else no matter how many times the other two ask him to.

“I’m sure it’s all a misunderstanding, Bellamy isn’t like that.”

“Bellamy isn’t as perfect as you think, Miller.”

“He’s not perfect, but he’s not a piece of a shit. He wouldn’t have a problem with you being with a guy. Maybe it was just the guy you were with.”

“Doesn’t mean he can be an asshole.”

“No, but it doesn’t mean you should completely cut him and most of our friends off forever.”

“Watch me.”

Almost a month later, Murphy runs into Bellamy at a party, his hand around some girls’ waist.

Bellamy’s eyes go wide and his hand drops as he see’s Murphy, see’s how good he looks and realizes how much he’s missed him.

“Hi.” Bellamy hates how his voice cracks.

Murphy hates Bellamy.

He walks out of the party, not listening when Miller runs after him and asks him what’s wrong and to come back,

The next week, Murphy goes to another party, ready to see Bellamy with the same girl.

He doesn’t see that.

He see’s him with a different girl, their lips connected, not hiding in the shadows or in a room like when the two of them were together, but right in the middle of everyone, not caring who see’s.

Murphy gets shitfaced and hooks up with a stranger.

The next day, he goes to another party.

There’s another new girl.

She’s getting kissed the way he should be.

It keeps happening, Bellamy keeps kissing different girls, leading them to a room, making a show of it, like he wants people to see him, see how many girls he can bed in one week. 

Murphy keeps kissing different boys and girls, leading to wherever dark part of the room or empty closet, not wanting anyone to see him or him to see anyone.

One night, after months of different hookups and ignoring each other, sitting as far away as they can from each other in classes they share, they finally talk.

“Where’s your flavor of the hour?”

“You’re one to talk.”

“So what?”

“So, you’re being a hypocrite. You’re trying to make me feel bad about having one night stands when you do the same thing.”

“Never said I wasn’t a hypocrite.”

“And I never said.... anything. You just assumed everything when I didn’t say any of it.”

“Really?” Murphy’s smirking now. Bellamy thinks he can play this game? Can just rewrite history and make Murphy seem like the bad guy?

Fuck no.

“Really.”

“So you weren’t ashamed of making out with me? You weren’t ashamed of making out with a guy? You wanted to talk about us and what we are and tell everyone about us? You wanted to go on a date and be in a relationship with me?”

“Maybe!”

“Bullshit. You never wanted to do a damn thing, you wanted to forget about everything that happened, you wanted to forget about me. I’m not a toy, Bellamy, you can’t experiment with me and then just leave me when you’re done playing. You were an asshole. You’re still an asshole.” He’s hissing out his words, getting closer and closer to Bellamy until he’s right in his face, so close he can smell his cologne. “You hook up with a new girl every night to forget about what we did and convince everyone, including yourself, that there’s no way hell in you’d ever want to kiss a boy, you’d never tell him how you like his smirk, how you want to touch his dick, how you want to fuck him-”

“Shut up!”

“Why? Because it’s the truth and you’ve had a problem with it for a long time, Bell.”

“So what!? So what if I’m confused and don’t know what to do and am trying to get things back to the way they were!?” Bellamy steps back, raising his voice with every word, trying to put some space between himself and Murphy, between their lips that are so close together. “You think you’re handling it so much better? I’m not the only one hooking up with random strangers, you’re doing the exact same thing. You’re no better than me, so why don’t you get off your high horse?”

“Why don’t you stop lying to yourself and everyone else?”

“Why don’t you stop being such a fucking asshole?”

“Why don’t you stop kissing other people and pretending their me?” Bellamy doesn’t have a comeback for that and Murphy smirks again. “You hook up with girl after girl after girl but none of them are who you want. You want me, Bellamy. You don’t want to admit it, but you do.” Murphy stepped closer and closer again, crowding Bellamy again, reminding him of that night and of what happened and how it could so easily happen again.

“Shut. Up.”

“Make me.” Bellamy steps back, chest heaving, acutely aware of how many people are around him.

“Thought so.” Murphy scoffs, turning around to walk away, but he doesn’t get two steps before Bellamy grabs his arm and spins him around, crushing his lips into Murphy’s, rough and aggressive and angry.

it takes Murphy a minute to realize what’s happening and respond, but as soon as he does he kisses back, just as angry and hard, wrapping his arms around Bellamy’s neck and tugging too tightly at the hairs on the nape of his neck.

‘Is that enough to get you to shut the fuck up for once?” Bellamy pants out after he pulls away a few minutes later.

“Not even close.” Murphy smirks.

[anpacgang]

The City of One Thousand Eyes

In the recently refurbished city of New York, where each person is guaranteed a minimum quality of life simply for living, where the ancient smog of the fine precursors lazily licks the window panes, and where images of two eyes, simply watching you without judgment, adorn the landscape as frequently as street numbers, lives a man named Harold.

Harold had nothing to do with the decision to adorn the city with eyes, and in fact, no individual can be held responsible. It was a public effort; Harold had no objection to the installation of the eyes, because the eyes do not record anything, nor are they there to intimidate anyone, nor are they to remind you that the government is “always watching.”

No, scientists simply discovered people are significantly less likely to commit crimes when they feel someone watching them, and merely the presence of two eyes gives them that feeling. Once this very cheap way to prevent crime was discovered, the city government wasted no time in implementing it, and it was expected that nearly every population center on the planet would soon follow suit.

Harold understood this, for rationality is sovereign of all the mental faculties, and Harold took great pride in being a citizen among his peers.

Imagine, for a moment, that you are Harold. You’ve known no life outside of New York, nor outside of the vaunted democratic virtues of the United World Government. Like most people, you actively sought out employment; but unlike most people, you found opportunity. It’s important to Harold that no one misunderstands, he was never afraid of being unemployed, for the government readily provides for the unemployed to have all the necessities plus a little extra spending money. Harold works not out of fear of poverty, but out of his internal need to produce wealth for his society.

So when I say Harold puts on his government issued pollution filtering mask, opens the door, and leaves his apartment building to walk through the numbered and categorized streets of New York to work every morning, I mean he does so of his own volition.

You navigate the city streets– hardly paying attention to the great hydroponic processor facilities looming in the distance, for they have become part of the landscape– thinking of work, thinking of home, thinking of family. You have a pretty good life.

Then one day, imagine your life begins to change.

Harold’s arc begins with a simple realization. He doesn’t love his wife anymore. He does the appropriate thing. He waits for the kids to be preoccupied, shut the door to the kitchen, and quietly converses with his wife about their feelings, as adults do. They work through their feelings, and it turns out she doesn’t love him anymore either. They’re not sure how they arrived at this point, but they mutually decide that it would be best to proceed with an amicable divorce.

An epiphany grows slowly over time, of course. He did not suddenly wake up without loving his wife one day. Rather, the feelings, the passion, the fire, which had once possessed them to wed and to enter this very apartment as groom and bride, all smiles, all giggles, all secretive whispers and intimate kisses, was gone now. No one’s fault, really. The human heart is a fickle thing; its wishes and whims wax and wane with the tides. The way of the world dictates that all fires eventually burn out, just as it dictates all young romance eventually gives way to the drudgery of routine, of taking turns driving the kids to school, of once a week designated date night at the Olive Garden.

Still, memories of other people carve homes out of your heart, and Harold had no interest in reliving painful memories, and he agreed his children deserved the stability of remaining in their childhood home, and so he moved out into an apartment as the divorce continued.

I can not stress enough, this divorce is as amicable as such affairs get. There’s a little cold draft between them, but no more than in their loveless marriage, and he keeps the children at his new apartment during his 3 day weekend. He agrees to pay for any child rearing related expenses the mother has, and the mother never lowers herself to spending any of this money on personal pleasures. She, like most people, lives on Universal Basic Income, which provides enough to care for children and for herself, and to have a little bit of spending money left over, but Harold– having a job– makes quite a bit more than that, and extends to his family an appropriately enjoyable lifestyle. Additionally, he has to work the other four days at his job, and so he cares for the children the three days he has off, and cherishes them greatly.

Still, on the days he does work, he comes home to the vacant echoes of a room empty of life. He comes home to darkness, without the soft glow of screens illuminating the soft faces of his children. Without even the cordiality of his wife, cold as it may have been during the later years of his marriage. He comes home, eats a lukewarm meal he picked up on the way, and falls asleep by himself.

This amicable arrangement continues in an easy equilibrium for a little over a year. After the courts have finally completed all the necessary paperwork, he stands outside the court staring at the little paper in his hand telling him his marriage is over. He stares at it for a long time, and suddenly feels a strange anger well up inside him. He wants to kick over a trash can and yell, but when he looks up and sees those two eyes staring back at him, he feels guilty, tucks the document into his jacket, and walks out of the building.

Harold has neither time for himself– nor romance– since on the days he does not work he cares for his children. Granted, the world is not experiencing a shortage of single parents, but putting in the effort to meet people, deal with children that aren’t even his, and participate in a game he’s well over a decade out of practice in, is just too much for him to really contemplate.

Then, one morning, another realization comes upon him. He’s bored by his job. It makes sense he’d be bored, he does the same thing every day and the nebulous hope of a promotion on the horizon through excelling at that seems to have evaporated into fantasy. You most likely know what it is to be bored by a job, or by school. It’s different from being bored by a relationship, a job isn’t just something you can just walk away from one day. Harold could, theoretically, just quit and live on UBI, but doing so comes with a significant salary decrease, and his children would experience a decreased lifestyle quality. He takes pride in how spoiled his children are, he secretly delights in the envious looks from others, and how the other children flock to his to see all of their neat toys. No, he can’t walk away any more than you, or anyone else, can.

So of course he comes to a wholly natural conclusion; if his job bores him, tough shit.

He gets up every morning, same as usual, same as you, and drags himself to work. It’s different now, for he must drag himself, because regardless of how tough your shit is you can’t reconnect what has been severed. Every morning, he walks to work, his head hanging a little lower, his walk a little slower going, a little faster coming home. He starts looking at anything to distract him, the clouds, the smog, anything but the vast carbon dioxide scrubbing structure looming in the background, where he worked. Just like with his marriage, when he started there his mind was on the bigger picture, a part of a grand purpose far bigger than himself. What purpose could be more noble than reversing centuries of damage to the environment?

No higher calling than the return of Terra, the Earth itself, to its once glorious status as a garden, the gem of the solar system, could exist.

In fact, when he started, his job was not only a duty, but a part of his identity. He enjoyed wearing his uniform to work, and sometimes he’d even wear it other places even though he’d had plenty of time to change. People would pay him a modicum of respect, maybe even starting a conversation about it and expressing admiration for the project in depth.

Still, reminders of that fact merely compound his feelings of guilt. He comes to hate being there, hate the files, the desks, his co-workers, and even how looming and monolithic the structure itself was. It just sits there, larger than the largest skyscrapers. You could see it from anywhere in the city. As you get closer, the air gets cleaner, and you can even take off your mask. He began to hate that too. He started wanting to keep his face covered, so no one could look at him and he could sneak in and out as quick as he could. Then, as he’s entering the building, he notices another poster; two eyes, looking directly at him. He banishes his selfish thoughts, takes his mask off, and offers the lady at the front desk another customary smile.

Now, again, picture that you have been single for three years. You’ve come to terms with your divorce by now, but you haven’t really gotten over it, and sometimes you still spend your alone time thinking about what went wrong. This is where you are when your boss walks into your office, starting what would seem a typical conversation.

But it isn’t. He’s there to fire you. You ask him why, you think perhaps your performance has been slacking off due to your steady slide into ennui. Maybe the divorce hit you a bit harder than you thought, and you don’t even really know what you’ve been doing at work. No, he assures you, your performance is fine, they’ve just been steadily automating more and more, and human labor has become significantly less necessary. He’s telling the truth, by the way. He likes his employees, considers them friends despite the awkwardness their hierarchical inequality brings into any social interactions between them.

Harold exits the building at an even more hurried pace than usual. His mind swims like swarming eels, electric with spurts of rage and grief. You should be happy. You hated working there, so why aren’t you happy? He passes through the streets and the eyes following him. He passes through the city, taking advantage of New York’s excellent public transportation, through the clean streets where homelessness has been eradicated. He returns to his house, situated comfortably in that utopia, and grits his teeth in the dark heartbeat.

He grabs the lip of his table. He feels a scream welling up in his throat. He feels the need to flip it, to smash it, to destroy his house, to smash the windows, to burn it all down. He feels like he’s being watched.

He looks around. No one’s there, no one but a single poster of two realistic eyes looking through them, directly at him. Did someone put it there recently? Did they put it there when they knew he’d be fired to watch him, to watch his life crack at its weakest points and collapse into dust, and to remind him that decency and duty demanded he bear his fall from grace with pride?

No, it was always there, even before he moved in. You just get used to them; you stop seeing them. They proliferate, until they’re just as much on the walls of your own skull as on the walls of the city.

You call your wife– ex wife– with shaking hands, you tell her about how you lost your job. Your tears leak through your teeth no matter how hard you try to hold them back. They drip onto the phone, they seep into its cracks, but your ex wife doesn’t acknowledge the taste of salt. She acknowledges the lifestyle changes the news brings, but your inner pain is her business no longer. She tells you to take care, leaving you the last drop of human concern anyone has for you, and you cling to it even as you hang up. Then you put your phone on the table.

You take deep breaths, but even the air inside your house tastes like smog. You throw open your door, and you start tearing the posters down. You rip your hands through the eyes and throw their viscera onto the streets. Passerby become concerned. You ascend beyond noticing as you cover your fingers with the blood and guts of your life’s great lie. You tear until the police finally arrive, and as their batons bruise your body and their boots on your chest make it difficult to breathe, you look up at them through the stains of your own blood, and your darkening vision, and you thank them, because someone is finally being honest with you.