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sirtommyholland · 4 years ago

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Four Years of Birthdays

A/N: Hey everyone! This isn’t my first time writing for Harry but my first time actually posting it so I’m very excited! This is inspired by the little piece I wrote on Tom Holland’s birthday, I wanted to make a similar concept. Hope you guys like it, and happy birthday to our beloved baby boy Harry Styles! We love you so much!💜

Word Count: 2.4k (she tiny because I suck)

Summary: Harry’s four different birthdays with Y/N in differents points of his life.

Fluff all the way! with like a little talk about sexual themes because I had to.

poc friendly and plus size friendly (I think, please tell me if I made a mistake!) because we dont blush bright red or swim in men’s clothes in this house💫

2019 - 25th Birthday

Spending his birthday with Y/N was one of Harry’s favourite things. Over the last ten years of his life, she had missed quite a few of them as he was on the road and she was back home in London, going to uni and living a normal life. It was only the last couple of years that he was able to be home on his birthday, his solo career allowing him a bit more freedom to arrange his schedule as he wanted.

This year, he had wanted to have a quiet birthday, just with his family and close friends. And of course, his girlfriend, who was currently climbing on his back on the bed, trying to coax him out of sleep.

“Loviee” she whined into the back of his neck between kisses. “Wake up.”

“No.” his voice was deeper than usual as he groaned, trying to bury himself more into the pillows to avoid the bright sunlight in the room. “‘M sleepy.”

“But it’s your birthday.” she protested with a kiss to a small part of his cheek that wasn’t hidden away. “I need to give you your 25 kisses.”

“Just 25?” he frowned, raising his head from the pillow to look back at her. “That’s nowhere near enough! You kiss me more on a regular day.”

“Hmm..” she pretended to ponder his words, one of her hands going up to brush away the soft curls that fell on his forehead. “Then how about I give you a blowie for 25 minutes?”

Even if she couldn’t see his face, she would still be able to hear the grin in his voice. “Now that’s more like it.” He was turning over and laying on his back in a heartbeat, tugging at her thighs to make her straddle him again.

She complied, throwing one leg over his hips and gently sitting on thighs, not putting her full weight. She leaned down to softly brush her lips against his, once, twice, three times. “Happy birthday, baby.” she sighed against them, rubbing her nose against his lovingly.

“Thank you, angel.” he smiled, letting his hands roam over the soft material of her shirt. “I reckon it’s gonna be the best one so far.”

“Really? Is there a reason why?” she grinned, feeling like she already knew the answer.

“Because this is the first one I’m waking up with you as my girlfriend. Finally,” he sighed. “I can kiss you for real instead of making a wish for it when I blow out the candles.”

“You’re so cheesy.” she teased with a smile, leaning down to give him another kiss. “I still can't believe you wished for it.”

“Literally every year.” he confirmed, only blushing slightly under her loving gaze. “Honestly don’t know what I’m gonna wish for this time. It’s been the same thing for many years.”

“I’m sure you’ll come up with something.” She placed a final peck to his lips, then swiftly got up from his lap. “Now get up, your mum’s expecting us for breakfast.”

“But- but- my blowie!”

She looked back to see an adorable pout on his lips, one that she almost couldn’t resist. Almost.

“Later.” she promised, pulling him to his feet and laying a few kisses on his neck. “I’m gonna take care of you properly tonight, after your party. Along with your final present.”

“You’re a tease.” he breathed, the meaning behind her words not so hidden. She grinned, and trailed her hand softly down his back until she was grabbing his bum, giving it a firm squeeze.

“Heyy!” he jumped, trying to grab her before she made a run for the bathroom, and failing.

“Pick your outfit, it takes ages!” she yelled through the closed door, making him huff and fall back on the bed dramatically.

“Harry Edward Styles!” Well, guess she knew him too well.

“Yes, ma’am!”

2009 - 15th birthday

“Hello.”

Harry raised his head from the plastic cup he was refilling, to see a familiar girl looking at him with a friendly smile.

“Hi.” he smiled back as he straightened up, silently giving her the cue to go on.

“Sorry to bother you. I just wanted to say that I really liked your performance. You guys were incredible!”

“Oh, thank you! Of course you’re not bothering me. I’m glad to know you liked it.” He grinned. “We’re at the same school, right? I’ve seen you around before.”

“Yeah, but we’ve never actually talked, I think. I’m Y/N, by the way. Will invited me because I live next door.” she explained, nodding towards his bandmate that was currently hosting his birthday party/small concert in his garage.

“You don’t need to explain yourself! Next time, I’ll just have to make sure that I invite you myself.”

She grinned at his words. “That’s very nice of you, Harry. Oh, and happy birthday, by the way! I almost forgot.” Right, she was at his birthday party. She already knew his name.

“Thank you! And thanks for coming.”

Before she could open her mouth to say anything else, the lights were dimmed and the back entrance of the garage was illuminated with a soft, orange light as his friends brought in the cake. Off-key voices singing him happy birthday filled the space, and he made his way to his friends with a huge smile on his face, Y/N joining the small crowd around him as they waited for him to blow out the candles.

“Don’t forget to make a wish!” one of his mates yelled just as he was leaning towards the cake.

“Sorry.” he chuckled, then closed his eyes to make his wish. I want to make music. For all my life.

Little did he know, that would be his only wish in the next ten years that didn’t involve the girl that he had just met.

2016 - 22th birthday

“I don’t know about you, but I’m feeling twenty-two! Everything will be alright if you keep me next to you!”

“What the fuck.” he muttered into his pillow, trying to figure out if he was dreaming or if his phone was actually ringing with a Taylor Swift song. But even when he was wide awake after a few minutes he could still hear her melodic voice, so he reached out with a groan and checked the caller ID. Of course.

“How did you manage to change my ringtone all the way from London?” he answered in a groggy voice.

“Well, good morning to you too, hun, took you long enough! I’m very good, thanks for asking! And I got Niall to do it yesterday, obviously.”

“... Morning Y/N.”

“Oh, stop grumbling, it doesn’t suit you. Get up and get ready, I’m gonna facetime you in thirty minutes.” And before he could say anything, she hung up on him.

He looked at this phone in disbelief. Did she just hang up on me on my birthday?! He rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t help the soft smile that appeared on his face. To be honest, there were a lot of things he couldn’t help when it came to her.

Half an hour later, when he was freshly showered and dressed, his phone rang with an incoming facetime call just like she said. She probably set an alarm for exactly thirty minutes, he thought fondly.

Her smiling face greeted him as he accepted the call. “Happy birthday, Haz!!”

“Thanks, love.” he chuckled, eyeing the tiny cupcake in front of her through the small screen. “Whatcha got there?”

“That’s your birthday cupcake, made it myself! Was tired of shitty store-bought cake.”

“I don’t know, it looks kind of ugly.” he joked, grinning at her mock-offended face. “I could do better. I worked in a bakery, ya know.”

“You literally just ran the register and washed the dishes.”

“Still, in a bakery!”

She was shaking her head at his shit-eating grin, but he could still see a soft smile playing at her lips. It caused his heart to flutter in his chest. What he wouldn’t give to see her smiling at him like that everyday.

“Anyway, candle time!” she piped, grabbing a lighter from somewhere behind the camera and lighting up the single candle on her tiny cupcake.

Harry watched her raise the cupcake closer to the camera and she instructed him to make a wish. This routine was familiar to them now. Every year, she would video call with a different type of cake, to make up for not being able to be there with him.

Harry closed his eyes, and made the same wish that he had been making for the last six years of his life. I wish you were mine.

He opened his eyes and blew lightly towards the screen, her actions matching his as she blew out the candle in his place. She gave a little cheer afterwards, and the brightness of her eyes warmed him up all the way down to his toes, even through a phone screen.

They talked for a while after that, catching up on each other’s lives and discussing the dates they would be able to meet up again. She hung up with a final ‘happy birthday, love you!’ and then he was left staring at his phone, a small smile still remaining on his face. I wish you were mine.

And later, when he logged onto his twitter account and tweeted some certain song lyrics, he only cared about one person’s reaction out of millions.

2018 - 24th birthday

“Hey. I’ve been looking for you.”

Harry turned towards the kitchen door that led to the back garden, seeing her slide it close to make her way towards him.

“Just taking a breather, love.” he said, accepting his woolly coat that she handed him. “Thank you.”

“Didn’t want you to catch a cold.” She sat next to him on the wooden porch bench, wrapped up in her own fuzzy coat. There was another item in her hand, a thick, heavy looking box.

“What’s that?” he asked, pointing at it.

“Oh, I came here to give it to you. Your final gift.”

“Y/N.” he sighed. “The others were more than enough.”

“I don’t think this even counts as my gift, honestly.” She grinned at the puzzled look on his face. “Just open it.”

He did. Inside was a thick notebook, a scrapbook by the looks of it, that read ‘Happy Birthday Harry! - 2018’

He looked at her curiously, but she just smiled and told him to open it again. He turned to the first page, and ran his gaze across the page. His eyes widened in surprise. He quickly flipped a few pages to see that all of them had the same thing; printings. Printed screenshots from various social media platforms, of his fans wishing him a happy birthday.

“I know you don’t use social media a lot these days.” she explained as he kept reading the tweets glued onto the scrapbook. “But you were trending on Twitter today, and yesterday too, lots of people wishing you a happy birthday and telling how much they loved you. I thought you might want to see it.”

He let out a watery laugh, not being able to tear his gaze away from the book in his hands. He couldn’t help the tears, not really. She had taken the time to print out lots and lots of tweets, instagram posts, everything; she had cut them and put them in this book and added little stickers in between with colorful doodles. And she had done it to carry his fans’ messages to him, she had basically hand-delivered their gifts of love to him.

“Thank you.” he breathed, his voice catching in his throat. “This is… I think this may be the best gift I’ve ever received.”

“Well, like I said, it’s not technically from me. I just put some tweets together, your fans are the ones who wrote them.” She paused, then added. “I just wanted you to see just how loved you are. By everyone. You have such a kind heart, and an amazing soul; all of these people are aware of it and they love you for it.” She tapped the book in his lap, emphasising her words.

“Thank you.” he repeated himself, seemingly at a loss for words. He closed the book and carefully put it back in its box, intending to read everything in it later. He placed it beside him, then turned to her and pulled her in a hug.

Her arms were around him in a second, not hesitating to tighten around him and pull him closer. She was so warm even in the cold weather, and she smelled so nice, and he wouldn’t be able to pull back if he tried. He didn’t know how long they sat there in each other's embrace, but when he felt her starting to lean back, something in him shifted. He turned his head towards her as she pulled away, so his cheek was softly grazing hers. She stilled a bit, looking into his eyes as if she was looking for something, then she closed her eyes and turned the rest of the way, her lips meeting his in a gentle kiss.

His breath hitched in his throat as his lips slightly parted, a small gasp making its way out of them when he realized finally, finally he was kissing her. He was kissing Y/N. This was really happening.

He brought a hand up to gently cup her cheek, his thumb stroking her cheekbone as they kissed, probably the softest, the most incredible kiss of his life. He couldn’t believe this was happening. He couldn’t believe how amazing she felt against him, how her hands in his hair felt just right, how warm her cheek was under his hand.

But despite every bone in his body wanting to kiss her forever, he was the first one to pull away, because he just couldn’t keep it in anymore. “I wish you were mine.”

“What?” she asked breathlessly, apparently still under the effect of their kiss.

“I wish you were mine.” he repeated. “That’s the wish I’ve made on every single birthday since I was sixteen. Everytime you looked at me and told me to make a wish, I was only able to think about how much I wanted to kiss you.”

She stared at him with parted lips, looking into his eyes like she was trying to figure out if he was messing with him. She could only see love and admiration.

“You’re an idiot, Harry Styles.” she breathed. Then, she cupped his face with her hands and kissed him again, and again, and again, and he felt like everything in his life was finally going to be okay.

some end notes: Sooo I’m sorry for the kind of shitty ending. It’s literally 3 am in Turkey rn and I have an early class but I just wanted to finish this quickly and post it before I went to bed. I haven’t written anything in months because I wasn’t 🌌feeling it🌌 so I basically bullied myself into writing this haha. This is my first posted Harry piece but there are a few other pieces I’ve been working on! (for months, literally. *sigh*)

If you liked it, please feel free to reblog and leave a teeny tiny feedback! Writers really appreciate it!💜

#harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x reader #happy birthday harry styles #harry styles x y/n #harry styles imagine #harry styles fluff #best friends to lovers #pining

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kim-bobbae · 4 years ago

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37. “Can I kiss you?”

So I read a prompt on twitter by @kisuckverse with this particular insta story of Jay and it goes:

When you’re friends with Jay but lately he’s been extra clingy to you and kind of giving hints that he likes you, and so you guys go out with your other friends and you ignored him because you don’t want your other friends to notice the tension between the two of you but then it pissed him off seeing you having fun with your other guy friends but can’t really tell you about it because you guys are technically not together yet.

And I immediately thought that I had to write it!! But it took sooo long ‘cos I was struggling with the ending (sorry in advance if it doesn’t meet your expectations, I tried TT) and finally, FINALLY, I’m posting it. It turned out longer than I thought it would though and now I feel a little empty after finishing it but I hope y’all show it some love!

“Let’s get the rest to join us, they tend to give us a discount when Chansung eats with us,” You suggested.

“How much do you plan on eating? Why would you need a discount?” Jay teased, and you could already picture that annoying grin of his.

“My fight’s over! Let me be, will you,” You whined before he gave in, his obnoxious laughter echoing through the phone.

It’s been a week since your fight was over and this being your first loss, everyone at the gym had been super supportive of your recovery journey. It wasn’t the prettiest of fights, unfortunately, having suffered a fractured arm and numerous bruises on your face but you held out as best as you could. Everyone knew that – they saw that – and being the only competitive female fighter in the gym, the guys took extra care to make sure you were coping fine from checking in on you to taking turns dropping off food and supplements at your apartment.

With most of your injuries healed enough to be out and about, Jay had suggested taking you out to dinner and if it weren’t for the fact that he had been either dropping by your place to deliver your favourite ice cream or calling you every other day – ‘just wanted to make sure you’re doing alright, that’s all’ he’d say – you would’ve readily agreed by now. After all, despite the comfortable friendship, you don’t remember hanging out nor speaking with him this much outside the gym, ever. Sure, there were the occasional team dinners post training, but to say that the both of you had gotten significantly closer over the week due to his multiple visits wouldn’t be an understatement.

“I’ll pick you up,” He told you. “Be there in twenty.”

“Jay, it’s just a fifteen-minute walk away from my place. With the time you’d take to get here, I’d already be there,” You reminded him, struggling to fill your brows while you wedged your phone between your ear and shoulders.

“It’s along the way from my office.”

“No it’s not,” You stated, his navigator instructing him to make a u-turn in the background a dead giveaway.

“Stop being difficult and let me pick you up! This isn’t a question” He said, his tone going an octave higher in frustration before letting out a soft chuckle. “I’ll see you in a bit.”

A part of you appreciated all the concern that he had shown you and it made you feel almost special, yet this was precisely the reason you felt the need to keep your distance and emotions in check. This is Jay we’re talking about, not just any guy from next door – for you to think his kind gestures meant something more? Oh, the audacity…

Thing is, you never really came to terms with the fact that yes, you had a big, stupid crush on him. The thought of the other fighters teasing you relentlessly about it if they were to find out gave you all the reasons to put on a chic front to mask the butterflies you felt whenever he came to the gym and the nerves that pooled in your stomach each time he came to watch you fight.

But with how much alone time you’ve been spending with him as of late outside the gym and in your apartment, you simply needed a logical reason to distract you from thinking that maybe, just maybe, he was interested in you, too. Not that you were complaining – your long time crush was actually visiting you at your place and being your listening ear – but after losing a fight though? All beat up and shit? There was no way – impossible, really.

Anywho. He got his way with you, picking you up for a short five-minute drive down to the said restaurant where he had noticed you were quieter than usual, spending most of the journey staring out of the window.

“You okay?” He asked, breaking the silence.

“Yeah,” You shrugged.

“Lies.”

You turned around, furrowing your brows at him, “What?”

“Something’s obviously bothering you,” He said, then turned his attention back to the road.

“If anything, you’re the one that’s bothering me.”

“What did I do now?”

You sighed, slumping in your seat and for the rest of the drive he let you be, occasionally sneaking glances at you each time he turned to look at the side mirror.

“Tell me about it,” He said in a soft voice, pulling on the hand brake at the parking lot.

“I’m just feeling a little…lousy? I guess,” You hesitated. “I mean, the thought of facing everyone who had literally put aside everything to help me train for the fight only to let them down is just…not the best feeling.”

“It’s not your fault,” He reassured you. “You did your best, and that’s all that matters.”

“But I slipped up…” You trailed off, involuntarily sulking as you lowered your head.

He pressed his lips in a tight line, and after some consideration, tapped on your knee for you to look up at him, “You did really well, trust me, and the fact that you held out for so long was admirable.”

In response, you merely sighed once more, “…why are you so nice to me?”

He stared at you for a second, his expression contorting to one that screamed ‘what?’ before he said it himself, “Cos you’re my friend, and I’m nice to all my friends.”

There was silence in the car as he awaited your response and you studied his expression for a bit. He looked genuinely confused, and at this point the word ‘friend’ repeated itself over and over in your head and you were embarrassed to admit that it somewhat pricked your heart a little, just a little.

He cocked his head seeing that you were not responding, and that was when you snapped out of your trance.

“What’s up?”

“Nothing,” You whispered, gathering your belongings before forcing a smile. “Let’s go.”

His eyes narrowed, watching as you got out of the car and started walking towards the restaurant.

For a minute he pondered over the conversation you guys had, and after thinking back on all the nights he spent at your place throwing his gym sessions out the window as he binged on ice cream with you while you cried in your blanket and the one time he offered to help change the dressing of the stitches on your face all because your incessant tears messed it up, it clicked.

Was he being that obvious?

He liked you, he knew that. But it certainly wasn’t part of his plan to reveal it to you any time soon, especially not now when he knew that it was only normal that you needed your own headspace coming off a loss that you’ve trained so hard for.

You had always stood out as an attractive, independent lady and there was no doubt you had piqued his interest over the years that he had gotten to know you. Despite your tough and charismatic exterior whenever you fought, you were no different from all the other girls outside of the octagon – from manicured nails to eyelash extensions, you enjoyed it all. But he found that side of you adorable, to say the least. He’d watch the way you’d shred your opponents to pieces, then complain about your chipped nails once it’s all over and it amused him to no end. The fact that you pursued what started as a mere hobby competitively all whilst running a successful boutique café as your main job only made him admire you even more. He simply thought you were, well, cool, and it wasn’t very often that he felt that way about his love interests.

Seeing all that, it was difficult for him to watch you break down upon losing your fight. Witnessing this vulnerable side of you was new to him, leaving him at a loss of what to do and unknowingly, he had found himself in a situation where he wanted to protect you that much more, and he showed exactly that because without even realizing it, he had gone out of his way amidst his commitments to comfort you.

Most of the guys had arrived by then, and seeing that there was an empty seat left between Junyoung and Seungmin, you slid yourself right in, a little relieved having barely escaped from having to sit beside Jay for the rest of the night. After all, the past week wasn’t very useful in helping you keep up your usual persona in front of him. If anything, how close the two of you had gotten only made it all the more difficult and the last thing you wanted was to spell it out for everyone to know that yes, you were hopelessly in love with this very attractive man.

On the other hand, Jay seemed to have noticed this and despite being a teeny bit disappointed, he took a seat a few seats away, not without glancing at you once more.

Being accustomed to his loud antics made it noticeable that he was being quiet and unreadable all of a sudden, and a part of you started regretting your stupid decision to confront him earlier because seriously, what were you thinking, kicking up a fuss over your wishful thinking that Jay Park would be interested in a girl like you.

There was no doubt some unspoken tension between you and Jay by now but other than the fact that the both of you were speaking much less to each other than the usual (not that anyone else really noticed), the rest of the dinner went by rather smoothly, everyone cracking a hell lot of jokes for hours on end to celebrate your recovery.

“You said you’ll teach me how to ride it!” You exclaimed, pointing to Seungmin’s skateboard while he flaunted some tricks at the parking lot where everyone was exchanging their goodbyes.

He laughed, “Not now, your arm’s in a cast!”

“But you can hold me,” You whined, looking at him with puppy eyes which caught Jay’s attention, his eyes flickering towards you almost instinctively in between his conversation with Chansung.

Seungmin gave in eventually, holding on to your uninjured arm as you wobbled helplessly on the board and with the way the both of you giggled uncontrollably at how silly you looked, the whole situation was indeed quite a spectacle.

“Junyoung! Support her from the other side!” Seungmin chortled.

Junyoung snickered, and with your arm in a cast, he supported you by your waist, the three of you shaking with laughter as with the rest of the guys as they watched on.

At this point, Jay was not pleased, biting down on his lip and furrowing his brows as he watched the way you squealed despite putting yourself in a stupidly dangerous situation. Perhaps he was over reacting, but seeing how much fun you were having with the other guys while you spent the whole of dinner somewhat avoiding him did make him feel somewhat jealous as much as he hated to admit it.

“Ya! Stop playing! At this rate she’s gonna injure her other arm!” Chansung yelled.

Sunyoung tittered, approached you guys as she helped you down the board, “C’mon guys, we should start making our way home, it’s late.”

“Do you have a ride home?” Junyoung asked.

“It’s just a short walk away, don’t worry about me.”

“I’ll walk you home then,” Seungmin offered.

But before you could reply to him, Jay interrupted, “I’ll give you a ride home.”

The walk to his car was awkward to say the least despite your hardest efforts to shrug off his unusual behaviour and to make it worse, there was a thick silence that engulfed the both of you as you guys entered the car. He didn’t say a word as he set up the navigator and got comfortable in his seat and the fact that he pretended not to notice how you were looking at him only asserted that he was annoyed – the worst part? You had no idea why.

“Are you mad…?” You asked, the tension in the air too unbearable for you to act like everything was okay.

No answer.

Needless to say, the ride back home was excruciating with Jay being so damn persistent on ignoring you which, in all honesty, was starting to annoy you. You had spent the entire ride turning to look at him from time to time and making it obvious that you were trying to start a conversation and there he was, staring straight ahead the whole time.

“I’ll get off here,” You said, breaking the silence as the car came to a stop at a red light a few minutes from your apartment.

“We’re reaching,” He told you, his tone ice cold.

“I’ll just walk,” You muttered, gathering your belongings anyway then reaching for the door handle.

But the light turned green just then, and he snapped when he realized that you were this close to opening the door just when he was about to step on the gas pedal, “Are you out of your mind? We’re in the middle of a road! Just sit still and you’ll be home in a minute.”

Seriously, from skateboarding with an arm in a cast to getting out of a moving vehicle – did your head take some damage during the fight or was danger your middle name? He thought to himself.

Startled by his sudden outburst at you for no comprehensible reason at all, you shot him a glare and he stared back at you with one of his own and it was when he saw the way your eyes trembled did he realize what he had done. You turned around to look out the window, gripping onto your bag tightly as you bit down on your lip only to realize that it was quivering. Yes, you were perhaps being a tad bit dramatic. Whatever. But angry tears were welling up in your eyes and for what reason you had no fucking clue.

He parked his car below your apartment block shortly after, and after taking a deep breath to regain your composure, you turned around to look at him – only to see that he was already watching you – then whispered a soft ‘thank you’ before pulling on the door handle but he stopped you, tugging on your elbow.

“W-wait,” He stuttered, swallowing as you turned around to look at him once more but seeing that he wasn’t saying anything, you got out of the car, walking away from him before you allowed a single tear to escape from your eye.

“Ji Eun!” He called out in panic, getting out of the car and running after you. “Wait up!”

You shrugged his hand off, squinting at him through the tears that was blurring your vision by now, “What?”

“I’m sorry,” He breathed, slightly taken aback by your tears.

Sure, he had seen them plenty of them over the past week, but never once did he imagine that he would be the reason for your tears.

You frowned, and after a deep breath, you spoke, “What did I do for you to get mad at me..?”

His heart broke as he watched the way your eyes watered and your voice cracked, the way you turned around to hide your tears from him and the way your hands scrambled to wipe them away although you deserved every right to scream your head off at him.

You literally felt like you had done nothing wrong to be on the receiving end of his tantrums whatsoever, and experiencing the 180-degree change in his attitude towards you hurt more than you thought it would. It was almost embarrassing, really – you bawling your eyes out in front of your biggest celebrity crush because of a little something he did all because the last week spent with him created this whole imaginary idea in your head that he actually liked you.

Your tiny frame shook as you tried your hardest to control your breathing, and by now you had given up on holding back the little sobs that were escaping your lips.

Then, he wordlessly wrapped his arms around you from behind and murmured, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to.”

He stayed like that, tightening his hold on you as he waited for your breathing to stabilize. He understood that the last thing you wanted was for him to watch you cry over something he had said to you despite him being the one at fault, nor any of his hugs but he couldn’t help it and if it weren’t for what an ass he was being, you would’ve been on cloud nine – ecstatic – but despite the numerous occasions you dared to imagine yourself being in his embrace, this was not it.

“That’s it? You got mad at me for no reason and expect that a ‘sorry’ is all it takes to make up for it?” You asked in a low voice once you had calmed down, peeling his hands off you before you turned around to face him, crossing your arms in front of your chest as you did to put a distance between the both of you.

“I don’t know what got in my head and…I don’t know if it was something I said in the car,” He started, scratching the back of his head. “But I’ve been thinking about it all dinner and I just can’t figure out why you’re avoiding me and being this distant all of a sudden. It frustrates me.”

“I wasn’t avoiding you…” You lied, breaking eye contact with him as soon as the words left your lips.

“I’m not stupid Ji,” He said as matter of fact, raising a brow at you – he could read you like an open book.

You groaned, “I just didn’t want to attract any unnecessary attention, okay?”

“What attention?”

“The fact that we’ve gotten so close!”

“What’s wrong with that?” He asked incredulously.

Because I fucking like you and the whole world would be able to tell once you start looking at me up close the way you do with your cute ass smile, idiot, you thought.

“Cos you’re so nice all of a sudden and the guys would probe…” Sigh.

“I’m always nice to you!” He defended. “And so what if they probed?”

“Ugh, I don’t know!” You said, exhaling deeply and running a hand through your hair in frustration before burying your face in your hands. “I don’t know…”

He watched as you let out a soft whine, refusing to give him a logical answer and he sighed, stepping forward to close the gap between the two of you, “I like you, okay? And I don’t care if anyone probes about it. I just want to know if you feel the same way.”

For a second you froze, wondering if you were hallucinating but as you slowly looked up at him sheepishly from your palm only to see him staring right back at you waiting for an answer, it hit you.

“wait...what?” You gawked.

Yes, very classy of you.

“Why do you think I’d sacrifice sleep and drive thirty minutes down from my studio at 2am in the morning after a twelve-hour studio session every other day to watch you binge eat ice cream while crying your eyes out?” He shrugged. “It isn’t the prettiest nor most entertaining thing to do, by the way.”

“…well, I didn’t ask you to,” You muttered.

“Ji…” He said, voice a little softer this time as he tugged on your fingers – he kept his hold on them this time, though.

Well…what were you supposed to say? Did this give you the right to jump on him? Your crush of two years had just confessed to you. This time he wasn’t that dude you met at your part time job, nor the other one you got to know through a common lecture in university – he was Jay Park for crying out loud.

“Hey…look at me,” He said, gently tilting your face up by the chin to look at him.

“What do you want me to say…?”

“I confessed!”

“Do it nicely.”

“Oh c’mon, you heard me,” He groaned, clicking his tongue.

He absolutely hated saying the sweet, corny stuff or anything that had to do with expressing his feelings romantically. Having to repeat them? Good Lord…

You tilted your head to a side as you awaited a response, and when he realized that you were not going to let him off, he asked instead, “Can I kiss you?”

Straightforward – that he was and you knew. He just never saw the point in going in circles when he could be outright blunt to make known what he felt and wanted. But still, it caught you by surprise and it wasn’t an exaggeration to say that you simply stood rooted to the ground and stared at him wide eyed for what felt like an eternity.

Again, what were you supposed to say?

Nevertheless, he let out a low chuckle, very gently sliding his arms around your waist to bring you close to him before he let his lips collide with yours and this was it – everything you wanted but denied yourself to ever dream of. His lips soft against yours, his arms around you firm but his touches delicate…all that and more, and he was finally yours.

#Jay Park #jay park scenarios #jay park drabbles #AOMG #aomg scenarios #aomg reactions #khh #khh scenarios #khh imagines #khh reactions #park jaebum #park jaebeom

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sheikah · 4 years ago

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Hello! I'm sorry to ask this, but can you explain what spoilers you mean and the thing with Darklina? I just read the first book in the series; only managed to finish it because of The Darkling - love him. But I stopped reading the series/world after that one. So I'm a bit unsure if you mean spoilers regarding the books or the show? I'm a little late to the part. Reason for asking as an anon is because I got blocked by another when I asked a question about The Darkling...

Wow, someone blocked you for asking a question about the Darkling? I honestly don’t know how some people get through life being this sensitive haha... Relatively speaking he’s far from the worst villain out there???

Anyway, sorry it took so long to answer this. I wanted to get some distance from the spoilers so my answer wouldn’t be so emotional haha. Spoilers for ROW under the cut. Also, since you say you’ve just read the first book, I’ll be making brief mention of key plot moments from Siege and Storm and Ruin and Rising as well, so those would be spoiled for you, anon!

We don’t have all of Rule of Wolves yet, obviously, but people with early review copies posted photographs of pages on Twitter, and I’ll link them below

From those pages, we can gather the following:

The Darkling (as we know from the ending of King of Scars) has returned in Yuri’s body but basically looks and sounds like his old self.

A darkness/blight much like the Fold is spreading and killing. Nikolai and Zoya need the Darkling’s help with combatting it because of his magical power/past experience with merzost.

In the early parts of the book they keep him prisoner in a cell flooded with sunlight to prevent him from summoning shadows.

At some point during the story they trust him enough to release him. They bargain with him. He will help them in exchange for a meeting with Alina Starkov. Bear in mind that prior to this Alina would have assumed him dead.

They are concerned by this request but they agree. In the Darkling’s POV he muses that he needs to meet with her to “get his power back” or something. Not sure how this make sense since Alina lost her own powers.

Anyway, so far, none of the above bothers me at all. But then...

When they meet with Alina it’s one of the most bizarre and OOC encounters I could imagine. Mal is there, and the Darkling randomly, out of nowhere, comments on how they’re related and Mal is like “lol we all hate our relatives amirite???”

Alina’s reaction to seeing the Darkling again is... no reaction at all. She doesn’t seem shocked, happy, upset, nothing. This man who loomed so large in her life and her destiny, this man she was forced to murder in Ruin and Rising... is BACK FROM THE DEAD, and everyone is just sitting around like it’s afternoon tea.

The Darkling looks at her and comments that she looks different. Here is the first thing to really and truly pisses me off: Alina says the reason she looks different is because she’s happy now and “[he] never really saw her that way.” As in, Alina was never once happy around the Darkling. If you just read Shadow and Bone, you know this is obviously not even remotely true. But it isn’t treated like a lie from Alina in the narrative. It’s treated like the truth the big, bad Darkling deserves to hear from her.

Eventually they come to an agreement and the Darkling agrees to help at the cost of his own life. [Here is where I want to interject something. I’ve seen a lot of people insinuate that Darkling stans are upset because Leigh killed the villain of her story. In other words, they’re suggesting that we’re stupid for being upset because obviously villains die. I just want to say for the record that I 100% expected the Darkling to die in Rule of Wolves. That is not the issue here.]

Before the Darkling sacrifices himself (something that is, at least, somewhat framed as a selfless act to save Grisha and Ravkans), some truly odd writing from Leigh. First, he tells a whole bunch of people his real name. No one asked??? He just tells everyone. A lot of Darklinas are angry because prior to this, his name was a secret only known by Alina. It was something they shared, an intimacy, and it was significant because in “Demon in the Wood,” the Darkling’s backstory, we see the target his true name put on his back all his life, and that Baghra cautioned him to tell no one. So him telling Alina was a gesture of trust. Him telling everyone destroys that.

The second weird thing about the death scene is that he basically screams something along the lines of, “I’m not sorry.” Again, this feels so weird. Like deliberate spite from Leigh. Making sure not to redeem him before killing him off.

So I don’t know all the magical/lore details, but when the Darkling sacrifices himself it is in some ritual where his body is pierced and mutilated by a bunch of magical tree branches??? Supposedly he will continue to exist this way in some sort of eternal super-hell where he just suffers in pain without dying forever, all to keep the darkness from spreading. Zoya and Nikolai bear witness.

This last part is the part that upsets me the most, more than anything else I guess. So later, at the end of the book, Zoya is with Genya and Alina. Zoya reveals that she’s been having nightmares wherein she sees things from the Darkling’s point of view--destryoing Novokribirsk, etc. She realizes how easy it could be to lose yourself with the kind of power the Darkling--and now Zoya herself--possesses. She wonders if he really deserves this eternal and unimaginable suffering and torture. Zoya proposes letting him out to mercy kill him. Genya and Alina are doubtful, but even Genya is swayed before Alina is. And this is the heart of the issue for me. Zoya, who loathes the Darkling more than anyone, is the one having mercy and taking pity on him, while Alina is utterly apathetic to his suffering. Alina, who wept openly over his body and held him as he died. Alina, who honored his last wishes and saw to it that he had a funeral of honor alongside what the people believed to be a literal saint in Ruin and Rising. Alina, who struggled with wanting and feeling for him all the way to the end of the trilogy, whose last word in the trilogy was his name. Alina, who had compassion for the animals she had to kill for the amplifiers. That is Alina Starkov. But the Alina Starkov in Rule of Wolves is completely unaffected when this man she seemingly used to love is being tortured literally forever. She couldn’t care less. And so all of this together feels like a deliberate slight to Darklinas, and that’s why we’re angry.

Anyway, Alina eventually agrees that the Darkling can be freed and killed, so Zoya says they’re going to replace the Darkling with the relic heart of a saint or something, and hire Kaz to steal it. So SOC3 is coming.

We did get one tiny crumb of Darklina. In the Darkling’s POV, he admits to himself that the real reason he wants to see Alina again is because “with her, he was human again.” He also ponders on why she was always able to defeat him and best him, and thinks that it’s because of something more than her stubbornness and bravery: “something he knew the name of a hundred lifetimes ago.” Most people are interpreting this as him finally admitting to himself that he loved her. It’s something!

Pics for reference.

#row spoilers #answered

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firstagent · 3 years ago

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Recap! Digimon Adventure: (2020): Ending

In this episode, we wrap up a reboot with so much style and so little substance, then talk about the future because, unlike the Adventure: children, we are mortal beings. As doing so during a currently running series defeated the intention of allowing us a breather, we’ve been slacking off on the catch-up posts that used to happen around every ending change. There wasn’t much to say anyway. By the time the second ending theme ran its course, we’d sniffed out the fatal flaws of the Adventure reboot. A lack of quality wasn’t the issue. Digimon has had plenty of subpar material over the course of twenty-plus years. You can even argue there’s plenty of quality in Adventure:, just invested in places we’re not used to in Digimon, ones that don’t add much besides another shiny, empty thing to gaze at for a few seconds. But as we gaze one more time, we realize the real killer was the lack of anything compelling to think about. Which is a real problem since that’s primarily what we do here. Back in episode four, even as we were enjoying the hell out of Action Girl Sora’s rebirth, her instant rapport with Piyomon stood in such stark contrast with original Sora’s early reticence that we wondered where the angst was going to come from. It was the first clue that the mother issues that defined her character twenty years ago would be scrubbed and abandoned, leaving… well, Action Girl Sora and nothing else of consequence. Other signs, like the way too early debut of Omegamon and the minimal development involved with the first couple rounds of evolution foretold a show that was going to be light on the one thing Digimon Adventure excelled at: endearing characters working through genuine problems making them seem like real people. The longer the series went, the more that concept felt abandoned, and the harder it was to root for these cardboard cutouts of the Adventure kids. The result is a series chock full of exciting action sequences, a serviceable enough plot, and not a lot of thought behind it. It spends most of the first half as an intense, relentless, exhausting escalation of battles… then takes its foot off the gas in the second half to meander its way through two arcs where nothing of consequence happens outside the climactic fights. You’re likely to get smoother pacing watching every episode on shuffle. Worse, within these two extremes is a shocking dearth of meaningful message to discuss. Digimon isn’t worth all this blog space because it stands above other shows like it, but rather because its depths give us so much to talk about regarding childhood, technology, relationships, evil, loss… nothing of the sort gets any thought here. A few interesting concepts sneak in through Patamon, Tailmon, and even Negamon towards the end, but nothing explored to its full potential. We’re left with precious little to sift through except pondering how empty the series feels compared to everything else Digimon has offered us. The next series, Digimon Ghost Game, already shows signs of promise. In just their introductory bios, the three leads offer up more character, family background, and flaws than the entire Adventure: octet gave us in sixty-seven episodes. Given the ratings the reboot pulled, it was easy to fear that the future of Digimon would be the same hollow action fests. So far Ghost Game appears to be resisting the temptation, and deserves discussion. Unfortunately, for several reasons, it won’t be here. The window between Saturday night episodes and Monday morning posts is becoming too much of a burden, especially with a five year old that actually likes to do things on weekends. I’ll still post my thoughts on Twitter and maybe even quick reactions on Tumblr the way I did for Appmon’s initial run. Like Appmon, I may even come back for full retrospective Ghost Game posts. The blog was always meant to be retrospective after all. So for now, we close up shop after a hell of a ten years. Our mission of writing something for the six seasons of Digimon kept getting extended as the franchise reinvigorated itself and kept on going, a testament to the endearing nature of the show that made us write about it in the first place. Thanks to everyone who helped out through Patreon, Ko-Fi, or Amazon, or even for leaving a comment, especially in the early days when Digimon was still on the verge of regaining its momentum. You can still catch me on Twitter and Tumblr, along with the With the Will podcast (I’ll also be discussing the final episode on Podigious in a few days!). And Nexusworld is all finished now so you have two novel-length adventures of multi-season madness! Twitter will be the best place to catch news of any future endeavors, whether Digimon or not. Until then, enjoy Ghost Game! Digimon Adventure: Ending 5: Dreamers Figure I slack off on talking about the ending themes in the season with the best ones (that third one is so cute!). This one’s a little generic, but it’s boppy and fits Digimon so well. The endings are nice in that they’re a little less Taichi-centric than the opening or the show itself, and only the first one tries to elevate a character the series doesn’t justify elevating. Dreamers is one those songs that makes me realize I should listen to K-Pop more.

See reviews of every Digimon episode at Digimon: System Restore!

#digimon #digimon adventure:#digimon adventure (2020)

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machine-gun-casie · 5 years ago

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not ur friend

colson doubts whether a post-break up friendship with you is a good idea, and you make the decision for him.

a/n: i wrote this at the end of march and i thought no way would i post it after colson’s birthday! but here we are lol. warning: hella angst

wc: 1.5k

You hit record on your phone and leaned back, taking in a breath.

“Let’s do this.”

You were going to sing a cover of ‘not your friend’ by Jeremy Zucker and post it on your Instagram. It was the best idea for a comeback you could think of.

Last night, your ex boyfriend, Machine Gun Kelly to the world and Colson to you, posted a very long thread of tweets all about your recent break up. You knew he was either high or drunk, but he at least didn’t directly include your name in his twitter rant.

But it wasn’t like that helped very much as your relationship was very public. And the things he said about you were not the kindest, to say the least.

Colson’s last tweet was him pondering if being friends with you post-break up would be good for him. So you decided to answer his question. Luck was simply on your side because it was the 21st of April.

You strummed the blue guitar in your lap, a present from Colson to drive the point home even further. “Yeah, tomorrow is your birthday. I thought it was last Thursday, boy. We know you love a party, go celebrate and I'll be on my way to distant shores if you weren't so insecure. You'd learn to close each open door for me. Oh, babe.”

You looked up and made eye contact with the camera, feeling like you were looking Colson in the eye. “Hang up, if you ever think of calling me up. Not afraid to say it, darling. Sorry, I'm not sorry if it hurts. I don't mean to make it worse. I've decided that I'm not your fucking friend. Right now, there's not much that we agree on. Sit down if you need someone to lean on. Honest, if I'm coming to your place, it's to say it to your face. I've decided that I'm not your fucking friend.”

You smiled to yourself and let your fingers play the guitar riff after the chorus. “I’ve decided that I’m not your fucking friend.” You stopped and let the guitar notes fade out and looked at the camera.

You flipped the camera off with both hands and stopped the recording.

Colson let out a frustrated sigh when the video started again on Slim’s Instagram page, indicating it ended.

“Fuck’s sake.” He muttered, taking Slim’s phone into his own hands.

You had blocked him on every social media platform after what he did last night. There were no words to describe how guilty and stupid he felt for the now deleted tweets, but it was too late. Not only had everyone seen them and knew who they were about, him feeling guilty would fix nothing.

The fact that you even offered to stay friends after what he did to you was a blessing and he went and fucked that up too.

Colson read through the comments that you left on instead of disabling them. If it wasn’t clear who you were talking about, the comments were full of his name and his Instagram tag. And he did not blame you. He would do the same thing to himself if he were you.

You had mentioned before how you hated being known as ‘Machine Gun Kelly’s Longest Hook Up’. Every drama channel and celebrity news outlet was obsessed with your relationship, creating false break up rumors every week. He couldn’t imagine how bad it was for you now that it was really over after all this time.

He knew how badly he messed up and so did everyone around him.

“Do ‘Waste Love’.” Rook spoke up, breaking the silence.

“What?”

“Do ‘Waste Love’ on your page. As your response. It fits, you fucked up.”

“It’s not like she’s gonna see it. She blocked me on everything.”

“No, that means she’s gonna see it even more. You fucked up and you need to apologize. What you did was so fucking-”

“Alright alright! I get it. Don’t need to join the fucking choir, Rook.” Even though it pissed him off that he was right, Colson did what Rook told him to do.

His friends were right. So he sat on his balcony and recorded an acoustic version of ‘Waste Love’. His voice cracked so many times that he got tired of starting again and just left it in. He almost cried, but he didn’t. He knew if you saw it though, you would be able to tell.

Even though he wasn’t sure you would see it, he got the confirmation that you did minutes after he posted the video to all his platforms.

Colson’s leg jumped up and down like crazy as he waited for you to pick. You blocked his number, sure. But he knew you would never block Pete’s number.

You and Pete became inseparable after you got together with Colson, a bond like brother and sister. He knew that after your break up, you spent the night at Pete’s place. Pete gave him the usual ‘not mad, just disappointed’ speech when Colson begged him to come over. Pete thought nothing of it, but Colson had a plan.

As soon as Pete left the room for something, Colson grabbed his friend’s phone and locked the door. He ignored Pete’s banging on the door as he waited for you to pick up.

“Hello?” You answered, voice thick with tears. Colson’s plan didn’t really go past this, he never thought he would actually get away with any of it let alone have the balls to do it. “Pete? Are you alright? What’s going on? If you don’t talk, I’m calling an ambulance.”

Colson knew that when you were emotional, your brain always went to the worst scenarios. “He’s- He’s alright.” Colson said quietly.

You went silent when you heard his voice. “Fuck’s sake.” You sighed. “I thought I told you not to fucking call me.”

“I couldn’t, y/n. I needed to hear your voice.”

“You don’t have the right to say that anymore.” You mumbled, tears welling up in your eyes. “You lost it when you-”

“Please.” Colson choked out. “Please don’t say it. You know I never meant to. It wasn’t me. When he comes out, I lose myself.”

“Yeah, okay.” Colson could hear the eye roll in your words. “Colson, don’t call me. You’re making this worse than it needs to be.”

“I didn’t mean the twitter thing.” He blurted out, anything to keep you on the line. “I was drunk and I tried to call you. But you blocked my number, and I got so mad.”

“So you told everyone about my personal shit? Low fucking blow, Colson. I trusted you with my insecurities, and you went and aired them out to the world.” You felt yourself start, voice rising in volume and every word coming out sharper than the next. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath. “I’m not doing this again. Just… Just unlock the door and give the phone to Pete.”

“But-” He didn’t even question the fact that you knew the exact situation on the other side of the phone. You know him better than he knows himself. Even after what he did to you.

“Colson, please. I can’t do this with you anymore. I just can’t. You have to deal with the consequences of your actions. Give the fucking phone to Pete.”

Colson pulled the phone away from his ear and looked down at it in complete disbelief.

It really was over.

He slowly walked to the door and unlocked it, finding Pete sitting on the floor with the most furious look on his face. He didn’t say anything, he just stood up and took the phone out of Colson’s hand.

“Hey, I’m sorry. He locked me out and…” Pete’s words to you sounded like they were coming from above the surface to Colson’s drowning ears. He numbly slid to the floor and just looked down at his feet.

He didn’t know when Pete hung up the phone with you. Or when Pete sat down next to him, until he slid his arm around his shoulders.

“I thought she was the one.” Colson mumbled, eyes still staring at nothing in particular.

Pete just sat in silence, waiting for him to keep going.

“I knew she was. Is. Is the one. Can’t imagine my life without her.” Colson continued. “Had it all planned out.”

“Colson, man.” Pete sighed. “You’ll get over it. You just need time.”

“I was gonna marry her.”

Pete couldn’t say anything even if he wanted to. Marry her? Was this the same Colson he knew?

Colson’s hand went to his pocket and he pulled out a ring. “I bought it a couple months ago. Was waiting for that special moment. Or I didn’t have the balls. I’m not sure. But I missed my shot.”

“Fucking shit.” Pete whispered, everything hitting him now. The gravity of the situation. He knew how bad you were taking it. But he didn’t know Colson was in love in love. “You fucked up real bad.”

“I fucked up real bad.” Colson chuckled dryly and nodded, twisting the ring between his fingers. “Happy fucking birthday to me.”

#machine gun kelly #mgk #colson baker #machine gun kelly fanfic #machine gun kelly x reader #machine gun kelly fluff #machine gun kelly imagine #mgk fanfic #mgk fluff #mgk x reader #mgk imagine #colson baker fanfic #colson baker x reader #colson baker fluff #colson baker imagine #richard colson baker #mgk angst #machine gun kelly angst #colson baker angst

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hockey-prose · 4 years ago

Text

Bitty Breaks the Internet

Summary: The AC in Jack and Bitty’s apartment is broken. So what better way to beat the heat than go out on the water? Bitty wears a new swimsuit, Jack takes his picture, and the picture ends up online. (Cross posted to AO3.)

It all started with that blasted weather. Simply put, it was stifling. Bitty was used to dry Southern summers and slight humidity. But he wasn’t prepared for this years incredibly humid Eastern summer. It made it worse that the AC in his and Jack’s apartment was broken and wouldn’t be fixed until next week.

So, while the two of them were boiling in their apartment, Bitty got a text from his mama.

Mama: Dicky, why don’t y’all just rent a boat and stay near the water for a few days?

That’s a great idea! Thanks Mama!

“Jack, honey,” Bitty said, adopting his extra thick accent. He knew it meant Jack would give him anything he wanted because he was sweet on his Southern side.

“Yeah, bud? What’s up?”

Bitty sat up, allowing the washcloth soaked in ice water to fall to his lap. He looked to his fiancé across the couch from him. It was so hot that the only parts of them that had been touching were their feet and ankles. There were at least 10 fans angled towards them.

“How about we rent a boat for the weekend? It’s the off season for you, and my deadline isn’t until next week.”

Jack lowered his phone, revealing the hair plastered to his forehead. Bitty’s heart squeezed with love for his man.

“I don’t know how to drive a boat.”

Bitty smacked Jack gently on the thigh.

“I do, honey! I spent I don’t know how many hours on boats in Georgia. Good Lord, the sunburns I’ve gotten. The point is that I know how to drive and I could teach you.”

“Do we want to invite other people or just have it be us?”

Bitty thought. As much as he loved every one of their shared friends, it would be nice to be just the two of them. Quiet.

“I think just us for this first time would be nice. Just the two of us?”

Bitty heaved himself forward to slide between Jack’s open legs. Jack’s eyes widened, but he covered Bitty’s hands where he’d placed them on his chest. Jack hummed.

“I like the sound of that. Want me to see if I can find any boat rental places?”

“How about we look together, huh handsome?”

The week came and went, and on Friday afternoon, Jack and Bitty took to the water at Providence Marina. Turns out, Marty had a boat docked there and gave Jack the keys to use it. The cooler that was clutched in each of their hands contained beer, soda, chips, sandwich fixings, fruit, and lemon blueberry mini pies.

After everything had been situated on the boat, and they’d had an awkward conversation with one of Marty’s dock neighbors, Bitty pulled them out to sea. They didn’t go very far, just out of view of the docks, and dropped the anchor.

Bitty turned on his portable speaker to some soft pop music, stripped off his clothes, and began making house on the boat. He could hear Jack snapping pictures with his camera. A quick look revealed that the subject was him.

“Well, now, Mr. Zimmermann. Who said you could take pictures of me just before I was about to fix you a sandwich,” Bitty sassed, planting his hands on his hips.

Jack took the camera away from his face, a love struck smile on his lips. He was also shirtless, and had laid himself on the deck of the boat to get a good angle.

“Sorry, Bits, you’re just so gorgeous I couldn’t help it. That swim suit is definitely doing you a favor.”

Bitty felt his cheeks warm, and a smile cross his own mouth. He’d bought the suit as soon as the boat was secured. It was almost a Speedo with just a bit more length. The print on them was white with light and dark blue sail boats.

“Oh hush now.”

A click.

“Jack Laurent Zimmermann!”

The afternoon passed with Bitty alternating between sunning himself on the deck and taking dips in the water. Jack kept mostly on the boat, occasionally dipping his legs in when Bitty swam. By the time they pulled into the dock, his shoulders were bright pink and he winced when he lifted the cooler.

“I told you to put on some more sunscreen, honey. There’s some aloe at home, but it’s gonna take more than that.”

“Bits, bud, don’t feel too bad. I’ll wear sunscreen tomorrow and bring a shirt too.”

“You still want to go out tomorrow?”

The couple buckled themselves into Jack’s car.

“Of course, Bits. You looked like you were loving it out there. As long as it makes you happy.”

Bitty leaned across the center console and planted a kiss on the underside of Jack’s jaw.

“You’re so sweet, honey. As long as you’re up for it.”

By the end of the weekend, Jack had taken over 100 pictures. At least 50 of them were Bitty. There was a handful of scenery, other boats and the ocean. And then a few were of the two of them. One for each day. They had gotten progressively pinker as the days went on.

Sunday night, the couple went to a nice seafood just off the water before heading home to fall into bed for a restful night sleep.

Wednesday rolled around quietly, and Bitty woke to about a thousand notifications on his phone. Some were texts. Some were notifications on Twitter. By far the most notifications came from Instagram. Even though he’d made an account, Bitty barely posted to Instagram except to promote his cookbook.

Deciding to look at the texts first, he was greeted with no context chirps from his Samwell friends. All of them were about him in a swimsuit?

What?

Bitty continued to flick through his messages. There were individual messages from everyone on his former team, but also in the big “Haus 4.0” group chat.

Holster (Adam Birkholtz): dUDE BITTY MY GOD HOW HAVE YOU STAYED SO HOT????

Ransom (Justin Oluransi): Jack’s lucky that nobody saw your ass or the internet would be broken brah

Lardo (Larissa Duan): bro, bitty DID break the internet have you seen his insta and twitter??

Shitty (BS Knight): I swear on the gods above if Bitty was not single and I was not straight, I would sweep him off his feet

Nursey (Derek Nurse): chill. was truly a kim k moment for Bitty

Dex (Will Pointdexter): Love the confidence my dude. Was really a monumental picture tbh

Honey 💞: Can we not talk about Bitty like a piece of meat?

ERB: What on earth are y’all talking about?

Lardo (Larissa Duan): bits, you gotta check jacks insta first before you come in here and ask questions

So that’s exactly what Bitty did. Goodness knows where Jack was because he was not currently in bed with him. The last text he sent was at 8:45 am and it was now 9.

Instagram proved to be a tough navigator. Not because Bitty was media illiterate, but because the sheer amount of new followers he got prevented the app from running properly. After three app crashes, Bitty grew frustrated. He logged out of his public account and into his private one.

Once on his smaller scale Instagram, he searched Jack’s name. The most recent post was of their weekend relaxation trip. It was one of those collections of images. The first three were of the ocean, some seagulls, and the view from the front of Marty’s ship. The next six were of Bitty and Jack in various stages of couple poses. Somehow Jack had even managed to capture Bitty feeding him some grapes. But the last image was what set a fire under Bitty.

The picture was of that first day. Bitty was wearing his, now scandalous in his eyes, swim suit. His sunglasses were perched on the edge of his nose. You could see the heat he held in his eyes for Jack, who had been behind the camera. Admittedly, Bitty had not been thinking of his body image at the time of wearing that swimsuit. But now that he had attracted so much attention to himself due to his body, he figured a once over couldn’t hurt.

The Bitty in the picture had a firm stomach, no defined abs to speak of. What was the need for them? He was perfectly healthy. The cut of the swimsuit allowed the camera to see the faint lines that traveled down from Bitty’s hips past the line of his swimsuit. His hair was shining in the sun. The skin of the Bitty in the picture looked a little pale, but he had no qualms otherwise.

He looked good.

Putting the praise of his body aside, Bitty knew he needed to find Jack.

ERB: Thank y’all for your kind words. It means the world to me. Now I have to find Jack and have a word with him

Shitty (BS Knight): AAH SHIT JACKS IN TROUBLE WITH BITTY AHAHAHAHA

Lardo (Larissa Duan): pls don’t kill jack

Bitty locked his phone and went out into the living room. No Jack. The entire open concept apartment was empty. Bitty knew the bathrooms and home office were empty. The doors always stayed open unless there was someone in there.

As Bitty pondered how to find his fiancé, the door unlocked with a small click. Jack emerged with several bags of groceries in hand. Bitty assumed position with his fists on his hips, but this time around, it was not nearly as tempting.

“Jack Laurent Zimmermann.”

“Bits! Uh, hey.”

Bitty tapped a foot on the floor.

“Euh, I didn’t know that post would go viral. I tried to soften the blow by bringing home everything you’d need to stress bake.”

Bitty came forward, taking the bags from Jack and going to the kitchen.

“Crisse,” Jack muttered before following Bitty.

“Bittle? I’m really sorry.”

“I know,” Bitty replied, his tone light. “I’m not mad, Jack. I only wish you’d told me you were going to post that where my mother could see it.”

Jack made a groan of displeasure as he approached Bitty from behind. Firm, warm hands pressed themselves into Bitty’s hips.

“Sorry, Bits.”

“Stop apologizing, honey! I’m just gonna have to field a call from my mama. I don’t think this’ll be worse than the cup, but I guarantee my family will chirp her for the rest of time.”

Jack buried his nose in the crook between Bitty’s neck and shoulder.

“George said the PR was good. We didn’t really need any more positive additions, but it doesn’t hurt.”

“Well I certainly hope not,” Bitty said with a scoff. “You didn’t post a picture of me nearly naked on the Internet for nothing!”

Jack laughed, and Bitty followed not long after. Together the couple baked breakfast pastries and Bitty got his own revenge.

Jack’s picture was also shirtless, but he was wearing his sweatpants reserved for lounging at home. His arms and stomach were so much more than Bitty’s. He had a workout routine to keep up with.

Once again, the Internet broke because of Eric Richard Bittle.

#omgcp #zimbits #check please #eric bittle #jack zimmermann #lardo duan #shitty knight #adam holster birkholtz #justin ransom oluransi #omgcheckplease #eric richard bittle #jack laurent zimmermann #omgcp fanfic #omgcp fanfiction #check please!#my fic

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thethousandyearwitch · 4 years ago

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The Show Must Go On! Chap. 7

- A Youtuber AU you didn’t want and didn’t need -

Hisoka Morrow, italian Makeup Youtuber, enjoys his life in the comfort and occasional drama of his profession. But nothing brings more drama into his life than the eldest son of the Zoldyck fashion magazine empire.

Meanwhile, aspiring australian Twitch Streamer Gon Freecs forms a special bond to a Speedrunner commonly going by "Kil".

Chapter 7 “Montero” out now!

AO3 Link

What could be worse than taking care of a teenage boy who is developing a steady video game addiction?

There was a loud bang coming from the room above the kitchen, followed by laughter and cackling. The boys were in Gons room and tried their hardest to set up the sleeping cod. They refused help, naturally, convinced that they are just as capable, confidence heightened by being in each other’s presence, hyping each other up, and the consumption of their own body weight in burgers.

Another bang. A shriek. More laughter. Mito sighed so deeply that she feared a piece of her soul might have left her.

Taking care of TWO teenage boys who are developing a steady video game addiction.

Her phone vibrated with a new message. Gon had sent her a selfie of himself and Killua on the cot, which seemed to be standing securely. The boys were flexing their arm muscles (or lack thereof) with proud looks on their faces, and the only caption was “#success”. Well, at least they are having fun.

Bellissimo<3: Good morning. I am going to pick you up at 1pm, be dressed by then, and pack your bag for tonight’s show. We are going for a brief detour.

Hisoka stretched out on his bed and squinted at the too-bright phone screen. It was 10 in the morning, though the rooms curtains were drawn shut tightly as a defence against harsh sunlight. A lazy smile spread on his lips.

Hisoka: Are we finally running away together to get married in Las Vegas? I thought you’d never ask~~❤️

Bellisssimo<3: I am trying to reward you for not getting arrested last night.

Bellissimo<3: Do not make me regret this.

Hisoka: I should avoid getting arrested more often ❤️

Bellissimo<3: 1pm Hisoka. See you then.

Hisoka let his phone drop back into pillow-mountain. This was certainly an interesting surprise, and an opportunity that the make up artist wasn’t going to waste. Getting One-on-One time with the Zoldyck was something precious and rare to him. Because Illumi was a rarity himself. In a world of increasingly bland and repetitive personalities, especially in his field of work, Illumi presented a challenge of raw potential. Cold and calculated to the masses, an obedient dog to his family, a revolutionary in his work. Hisoka knew that he must be hiding so much more, and the more walls he encountered with the man, the more he wanted to tear them down with his bare hands. Hisoka hated calling whatever this was a ‘Crush’. Sure, he was affectionate towards the other man, and at this point he couldn’t deny the pleasant twist of his heart whenever they touched. But he didn’t yearn for lazy Sundays in bed together, didn’t want the peaceful domesticity that seemed to be inherited in being a ‘couple’.

What do I want?

Hisoka pulled himself out of bed, and made his way to the shower, determined to abandon this pesky train of thought. There was no point in pondering the unlikely. Though… Illumi had been indulging him. And he was going to indulge him again this day. Maybe he wasn’t the only one getting soft, even if neither would ever admit it. The thought brought another satisfied smirk to his lips as he massaged his favourite shampoo into his scalp.

He wondered how Illumis family would react, hypothetically, if they were to end up a couple. The eldest son of the Zoldycks, not just gay, but in a relationship with a makeup artist who is famous for starting drama whenever possible. They certainly would be a more feared and adored couple than if Illumi were to marry some busty heiress who hooks up with her tennis coach when he’s away.

Silva Zoldyck would drop dead right on the spot if Hisoka would ask him if he should call him dad, he was sure.

He stepped out of the steamy shower and mustered his refreshed face in the mirror. Maybe that’s all he wanted. To form something with Illumi that would be even more powerful than the Zoldyck empire, to make everyone else envy/fear/adore them. They had the capacity and the ability to do so, no doubt.

Or maybe he just wanted to have something he wasn’t supposed to have.

Hisoka shrugged to himself, before he went over his usual beauty routine. Today could prove very interesting.

12:45 pm, Hisoka leaned on his kitchen island, absentmindedly scrolled through social media to beat time. Illumi wasn’t going to be late, but he’s never been early either.

He decided to go with a casual look, fitted beige khakis, with an oxford blue button up, sleeves rolled up just above his elbows, debated with himself on how far unbuttoned would be appropriate-yet-slutty (Top 3 Buttons unbuttoned, was the conclusion). Under his eyes, rested on his cheekbones, he had painted his signature star and teardrop, eyebrows plucked to perfection, and after 10 tries he managed to get a satisfying cat eye done. It was perfectly normal to want to look like hell on wheels while meeting with your friend-partner-associate-crush-insertsatisfactoryterm.

The afternoons were always the worst time to check social media, the calm before the posting-storm that comes during the evening and night. Hisoka had already reached posts that were done last night, a few screenshots taken here and there for future reference and roasting purposes.

Almost fed up with endless scrolling, suddenly it appeared. Hisoka had followed a twitch streamer on twitter recently, some kid who was definitely going to screw up in some point of his career (they always do, when the fame gets to their heads), and didn’t want to miss that mess. “Foxbeargaming”, what the fuck is even a foxbear, he had thought.

He had seen the brat before, in his profile picture and clips of his streams. But that wasn’t the problem with the newly posted selfie.

The problem was that he also recognized the second brat in it. Remembered the way Illumi boasted about his talented little brother, the same wild hair and blue eyes as he showed him a picture of the kid. Killua Zoldyck is currently in the middle of nowhere Australia, and his family most likely doesn’t know about it.

Oh, this will be delicious.

Hisokas day had been upgraded from surprisingly interesting to extremely entertaining if everything were to go smoothly. Immediately revealing to Illumi before their date that his little brother is out in the desert trying to tame himself a boyfriend wouldn’t do either of them good. Let it simmer, let it fester, keep Illumi away from his phone the rest of the day.

Lost in his scheming, he just barely noticed that the clock hit 1pm. He grabbed his bag from the floor and stuffed his phone into his back pocket before he headed out the door.

Hisoka wasn’t sure what he expected, yet he was taken aback by the sight in front of him as he exited the apartment complex.

Illumi leaned leisurely against a black sports car, as if that were his only purpose in life. His sleek hair was tied into a neat ponytail, eyes hidden behind a pair of sunglasses. Hisoka let his eyes take in every detail of him. Peridot green jeans, fashionably washed out, paired with a simple grey polo shirt, the collar popped open just enough to reveal more neck than usual.

“Are you waiting on an invitation?” Illumi didn’t sound as agitated as he probably intended, giving Hisoka only more reason to push his luck.

“I was thinking about whether I want to pounce on you now or later.” He approached the other man, who in turn straightened up his posture in defence. But instead of any hostile movements, Hisoka simply took Illumis hand, and bought it to his lips for a caste kiss. “But I’d rather not spoil our date this early.”

Illumi pulled his hand away, though maybe with a second’s hesitation. “Not happening, also not a date. Get in the car before I change my mind.”

The car was equipped with fabric seats, which Hisoka was grateful for in the Italian heat. “Maybe I should film one of those Vlogs today, what do you think of the title ‘Partner takes me away for secret date’?”

“What about ‘Multimillionaire kicked me out of a speeding car’?”

“Touché.” Now Hisoka was sure that his companion had to be in a good mood, despite what he’d claim, he’d never go along with his jokes if he were feeling neutral-to-pissed otherwise. He rolled his shoulders back into the seat comfortably, golden eyes fixated on the way that Illumis elegant pale hands wrapped around the steering wheel. “I didn’t know you can drive, considering you always have someone to do it for you.”

“I prefer it over flying, and I still consider myself a better driver than half of our staff.”

“I’m sure you’re great at handling stick shift as well.”

“Of co-“Illumi pressed his lips together in sudden annoyance, he most definitely had caught onto Hisokas smirk as he waited for an answer. “That is repulsive.” That prompted the makeup artist to break out into self-satisfied snickering.

“No clue what you’re talking about, Tesoro.” This earned him an eye roll, and silence as the car made its way through mostly empty streets. Hisokas eyes fell onto Illumis phone that rested on the console of the car. “Ah, I’m sure mister multimillionaire has Spotify Premium, right? Let me turn on some music.”

“Use your own phone.”

“I ran out of data volume. Are you that afraid I’ll discover your disastrous music taste?” His teasing smirk was met with another, more defeated eyeroll and a sigh.

“Don’t play anything trashy. The passcode is 0707.” After a questioning silence, he added “It’s Killuas birthday.”

Hisoka replied with an appreciative purr, before he started scrolling through the others music library. No personal playlists, not even a profile picture attached to his account. He was almost offended at the man’s lack of care for something as deeply personal as ones Spotify account, something that surely could tell a lot about a person. “Tchaikovsky? I’m not sure if I am impressed or utterly bored. Oh-“ His eyes stopped on a familiar album cover. “Maybe you’re not a lost cause after all, dear.”

A button press later, and the familiar opening sounds to Tame Impalas “Currents” played. The faintest trace of a smile curled on Illumis lips, barely noticeable, but Hisoka wanted to burn it into his mind anyway. Never mind that he took the brief distraction to turn the others phone onto silent mode. No unnecessary distractions.

It took the rest of the album until Illumi pulled the car into the exit towards the nature reserve near Lago di Bracciano, the last notes of “New Person, Same old Mistakes” dying together with the engine as they parked.

Hisoka stretched at the warm sunlight that caressed his skin when he exited the vehicle. Birds sang happily in the trees that lined the path around the large lake, and the only other person in sight was an elderly woman walking a small white dog. As the second car door shut close, he turned around with a pleased smile that showed off his shining teeth. “I never took you for the kind to take afternoon strolls.”

His friend-or-whatever set a relaxed pace onto the path and looked out onto the deep blue water. “I can’t sit around the hotel room the entire day, can I? And Rome is crawling with sweaty tourists and noisy journalists.”

“So you wanted to get some quality time outside?” Hisoka absentmindedly ran his tongue over his own sharp incisors.

“Correct.” Illumi didn’t seem to notice, or at least ignored, the predatory gesture.

“With me.”

He missed a beat before a simple, “It seemed appropriate.”.

This earned him an appreciative purr, before the men walked in silence along the large lake. Italy still wouldn’t reach its heights of temperatures this time of year, but any breeze was still a welcomed change from the rising humidity and sting of the sun. Hisoka wondered how much the others pale skin would change if he’d expose himself for a bit longer to the sun, if he’d immediately burn up in red, or if he’d start to tan, even just the faintest bit. He’d definitely look more alive, less like a puppet on invisible strings.

They continued to walk in a comfortable silence next to each other, took in the different sounds and sights of nature and the others presence, until eventually they reached the border of one of the shore towns. Beautiful stone buildings climbed the side of a smaller hill, only interrupted by greenery sprouting up between them. The main path was lined with flower shops, cafes, and Gelateria, whose smells mixed into a pleasant sweetness in the air. But one store in particular stood out. It wasn’t super flashy, it could have been found in any city and any street, but Hisoka knew this one from memory.

Without hesitation, he grabbed the others hand, effectively stopping him in his tracks.

“Excuse me-“ Before he could free his hand, Hisoka intertwined their fingers and pulled him closer.

“Let me treat you to something as well, I promise you won’t regret it,amore.” As his flaming eyes were met with a wrinkled nose, the sunshades Illumi were as not-telling as his eyes, he added “If you do regret it, I’ll gladly let you drown me right here.”

There was hesitation as the other mans wrist twitched against his hold. “You’d love that, wouldn’t you?”

The absence of a struggle was still taken as accepting whatever had gotten him so excited, and thus Illumi was quickly pulled and seated outside the small café. Hisokas attitude had changed from a lazy yet scheming happiness, to pure, unfiltered excitement. It became almost impossible for him to sit still, he rapidly tapped his fingernails against the small glass table, until a waitress (in her mid-40s, he assumed) stepped out. She handed the men a small, leather bound menu, though both were immediately snatched by Hisoka and held back towards her.

“Non sarà necessario. Ordineremo la Cheesecake alla fragola. Grazie.”

“Certamente.” The woman replied with a smile, before she retreated into the shop.

“Cheesecake?” Illumi asked with a raised eyebrow, he had taken off his sunglasses by now and placed them on the table.

Hisoka tutted, “Not any Cheesecake, dear, it is the best Cheesecake you will ever have. I will have it at my wedding, funeral, and every occasion in between that.”

“I take it you’ve been here before.”

“When I had just moved to Rieti, I’d come here almost every weekend, though I unfortunately stopped when weekends became workdays as well.” He considered carefully how much more he was willing to share about that time of his life with the other, though the decision was taken off him as the waitress approached with two plates, each adorned with a generous slice of cheesecake, topped with strawberry slices and strawberry jam dripping off it.

His jaw clenched in anticipation as he watched Illumi take the first bite of the cake, reminiscent of all the rituals he’d do for him whenever he visited. It felt degrading to admit that he wanted to impress and gain the approval of the Zoldyck, but not degrading enough to stop the attention seeking behaviour.

A bite. Some careful chewing. Averted eyes because Hisoka was staringbut he did not care. He swallowed.

Illumi didn’t look at him as he spoke, seemingly engrossed in studying the décor of the shop. But his eyes betrayed him, Hisoka swore he saw something within the dark orbs glisten and flash to life. He didn’t know people could smile only with their eyes, but Illumi continued to be different in the most intoxicating way. “It’s… really good.”

Hisoka tried hard not to pick up his train of thought from the morning, tried not to think about what he wanted from Illumi or a relationship, and he especially tried not to think about the growing urge to leap across the table at that very moment to kiss him until their lips were sore. Instead, he started to eat his own cake, and failed to supress his sharpened smile.

They ate mostly in silence, safe for Hisokas muffled crazed snickering, and ordered espresso to chase down the thick cake.

“Hey, let’s play a game. What is wrong with that woman over there?” Hisoka pointed at a blonde who rested against a railing near the lake.

Illumi seemed to consider for a second whether he even wanted to play a weird game like that, before he stopped mid espresso-sip. “Ah. Those red heels are obviously spray-painted on.”

“Bingo~! It’s super obvious, right? You can still see the black shine through.”

“I’m more concerned about the uneven stitching on her shirt. Either she did that herself, or she has gotten scammed.”

Somehow that conversation triggered them to analyse the fashion choices of every stranger they encountered on their way back to the car with increasingly devilish tones. Illumi Zoldyck was a surprisingly good gossiper, and Hisoka filed that fact into the growing corner of his brain that he reserved just for him.

In the car, Illumi informed him they would just head to his hotel room to get dressed for the show, and then head there together. Any attempt at a joke about spending hotel-room-time wisely was, expectedly, cut off.

Illumi had never focused on the road this much in his entire life. He tried to be grateful that they had managed to get ready for the show in his hotel room without any major incidents, but now Hisoka was seated next to him again, wearing the suit he made for him. He looked good, annoyingly so. Naturally, Illumi wouldn’t grant him the satisfaction of telling him that though. He had indulged the man plenty enough for that day already and was holding back from chastising himself for it.

Last night had made him soft, Illumi decided. A brief waver of confidence and self-preservation that made him want to spend one-on-one time with Hisoka, in what may have resembled friendship to an outsider.

But his head was clearer now, cleansed from whatever foolishness had overcome him – the image of his mother recovering from a coughing fit and regaining her composure crept itself into his mind. Unrelated, he thought, though cleared his throat regardless.

“Machi says the crowd tonight is dreadful. Do you think she is just saying that to keep me from going~?” Hisoka tapped his long nails against the screen of his phone. Machi was a model they both have worked with in the past, though she was no where close to a breakthrough. A pretty face, objectively spoken, though smaller than most models, and the personality of royalty about to be executed. Do they always text each other?

“She’s there as well today?” He tried not to sound bitter. He didn’t have a reason to be bitter.

“Mhm, she’s modelling for a friend of hers it seems, though all the examples she sent me looked like someone with a priest-kink designed them, so it doesn’t hurt as much that she didn’t hire me as her artist.”

A moment of silence. “I see.” Illumi was not going to indulge Hisoka even more by inquiring about the nature of his relationship to the woman. It did not concern him; it wasn’t relevant to him or his work.

“Illumi?” Hisoka leaned over in his seat, golden eyes piercing into the side of his face.

“Yes, Hisoka?” Just now he noticed that he had been clenching his jaw uncomfortably.

“Are you jealous of Machi?” He didn’t need to look to know that Hisoka was smiling from one ear to the other, voice dripping with joy. He wasn’t going to look at Hisoka.

“You are insane. Why would I be jealous of her? I pity the girl, still having to work as a favour for acquaintances.”

Predatory eyes continued to drill into him, and a dangerous purr escaped the man, “Is that so?”.

“Yes, don’t be ridiculous.” They pulled into the valet line.

“Then you surely won’t mind that she’ll meet us in the entrance hall, wonderful!”

Illumi shouldn’t mind. It should be perfectly fine that instead of spending the evening alone with Hisoka, a good-looking young woman with an unclear relationship to him would meet them. He definitely couldn’t be jealous; it would be irrational and yet-

He threw the keys to the car at the valet and grabbed the number-marker without a word. His face wouldn’t give it away to others, that he was practically fuming, but Hisoka seemed to take pleasure in the subtle way that Illumis facial features tightened. “I heard jealousy can give you wrinkles~” Hisoka whispered cheekily as they approached the venue entrance, rows of reporters and interviewers lined at the sides, even more so than at the opening day before.

“You must have a lot of experience with that.” He hissed in reply and straightened his posture as they passed the crowd, mostly reporters who desperately tried to take pictures of attendees. Pictures, Interviews, all loathsome cries for attention that Illumi has always tried to avoid as much as possible without damaging the families reputation. He looked down the carpeted entrance and spotted the young woman known as Machi Komacine, clothed in a painfully tight black dress adorned with rosaries draped around her waist like belts, her messy pink hair pulled into a high ponytail. Her posture signalled boredom, but her eyes screamed murder.

Illumi was not a man who easily feared anyone, especially not a woman who stands at 5’2 proud; But he also was not necessarily thrilled to approach her. As he tried to hiss something in Hisokas direction again, something about not having much time to chat with their acquaintance due to meeting a client, he noticed: The other man had stayed behind, and was now busy posing for numerous cameras. Their eyes met, and with a mischievous grin, Hisoka held his hand out to beckon Illumi closer. For Pictures. Together.

Take pictures with Hisoka together in a public appearance that will most definitely set the gears of the rumour mill in motion; Or approach Machi alone and run the risk of uncomfortable conversation about our respective relationships to Hisoka?

He looked back at Machi, whose eyes met his instantly with a raised eyebrow. Fucking Hell-

Illumi made his way back to Hisoka, casually disregarded the hand that was held out to him and positioned himself as practiced – left arm leisurely to the side, right arm three quarters across his front. Not too strict, but not too relaxed either. In contrast, Hisoka had his left hand in the pocket of his suit, his right hand rested on Illumis shoulder as if were the most natural thing in the world. Journalists started to yell even more for their attention now, asking pesky questions that he tried to ignore, telling them to stand closer to each other, the likes. He kept the façade of his neutral face through the blinding flashes intact, even as Hisoka snaked his arms from his shoulder around his waist. “Do you wish for a public execution?”

“It looks better for the pictures~”

Illumi brushed a few strands of hairs behind his shoulder and used the motion to glance back to where Machi was waiting, her steady gaze on the two of them. “It’s rude to let her wait.”

“How considerate you are!” Hisoka snickered. “I know you aren’t jealous, caro, but I’d still like to reassure you of something.”

“And what’s that?”

“Machi and I look for, how should I say, very different things in a partner.” He tugged at Illumi waist and pulled him closer. “She’s looking for women and I am not.”

“Oh.” Illumi continued to look at the reporters cooing for their attention, as he tried not to think of the warm hand on his waist that felt searing hot and- Wait.

“OH.” He turned in Hisokas hold to properly look at him, who in turned grinned like the cat that ate the canary, then he looked back to Machi, and suddenly he felt stupid, which he didn’t experience a lot.

“Feeling relieved, even though you definitely weren’t jealous?”

“I think they got enough pictures.”

Illumi heard Hisokas snickering trail behind him as he made his way down the entrance. Machis eyes met his again, hands steady on her hips. Up closer now, he could observe the details of her dress, white seams stitched into crucifixes that crept up the sides, and the number “3” painted on every bead of the rosaries. It was cleanly executed, but Illumi was confident in the superiority of his own work.

“Miss Komacine.” He extended his hand to her, which she shook half-heartedly.

“Illumi. I’d like to get to business talk right away, so I don’t have to look at this clown longer than necessary.”

“Business talk?”

The young woman lit a cigarette for herself and shot a glare to Hisoka. “I assume you didn’t tell him I wanted to speak with him?” This granted her only a shrug and a smile from the man. “Fine, whatever. Illumi, I want to model for your next line, it would proof beneficial for both of us.”

“I don’t deal in women’s fashion. Furthermore, I do not see how I’d gain benefits from having you work for me.” Finally, a topic he felt comfortable to speak about, even it was only to criticize the woman for her awful attempt at business.

“I don’t mind wearing a suit, you should be at least competent enough to make smaller sizes, right?” She stepped closer to push a sharp index finger against his chest. “And about those benefits; Having me model for you would give me more exposure from a mainstream crowd, and thus exposure for my group. You would gain exposure to a wider audience of underground fashion-following, that isn’t influenced by your family’s name, meaning you could manifest a name for yourself. Unless you prefer being ‘a Zoldyck’ forever.”

The nerve. The audacity. Illumi considered just calling her a presumptuous cunt and leaving with his pride intact, but Machi looked like the kind of woman who knew how to slice car tires and break-wires.

A manicured hand curled around his shoulder, and Hisoka pushed himself between Machi and him. “What could be better than this; My two favourite people in this world, getting along, talking friendly business. Unfortunately, dear Machi, there’s some people inside that are dying to meet us tonight, so we’ll catch you later~”

Before he could object, Illumi was pushed through the entrance of the venue. The large runway was occupied by a high-end brand that premiered their women’s gala collection, mood-lighting engulfed the rest of the room, rhythmic beats of low music drowned out most of the talking crowd.

“Be a darling and just let her offer simmer a little. Machi can be very scary when she’s mad, and not in the way I enjoy.” Hisoka purred closer to his ear.

“Did you know she was going to ask?”

“What if I did?”

A waiter offered them drinks on a tray, and Illumi leisurely grabbed a glass of champagne.

“What does that even mean, ‘a Zoldyck’, as if it is something bad.”

“Don’t wreck your pretty head over it, you know how women are.” Hisoka laughed, and Illumi wasn’t sure how serious he meant that, considering that personally he had no idea how women are, and after newest revelations, neither did Hisoka.

But through the course of the night, Illumi couldn’t get it out of his head. He pretended not to notice how people approached Hisoka, addressed him by his name, first or full name, and talked with him about the content he has created, complimented on his most recent videos and looks. And he pretended not to notice how people approached him, addressed him only by his last name, and asked about the family business. “Mr. Zoldyck, are you going to write an article about this line?” “Mr. Zoldyck, about the next issue-“ “Mr. Zoldyck, tell my greetings to your father.”

No word about his own collection he had premiered. No one even uttered his first name.

He was ‘a Zoldyck’. Nothing more, nothing less.

“If looks could kill, we’d be ankle deep in a blood bath by now.” Hisoka snaked an arm around Illumis waist again and rested his hand on the tip of his hip. The designer took a long sip of the bitter champagne, casually slapped away the offending hand, and kept his dark eyes fixed on the crowd. “Still pouting because Machi was being a bully?”

“I am not pouting.”

“And you weren’t jealous either, got it~”

An eye roll, followed by “I have a headache, what’s the time anyway?” Illumi tried to reach for his phone in his pocket, though before he could grab it, Hisoka took hold of his wrist. They locked eyes, and even in the dim lighting of the venue, Illumi saw something wild glisten in those amber eyes. “Let’s leave, together, to my place.”

“Very subtle, Hisoka. I am not going to-”

“Indulge me, Tesoro, I want to show you something.” Determined to blame it on the repulsive atmosphere that had build itself up at the fashion show, Illumi let himself be swept away by Hisoka for the second time that day. The thought of getting away from noisy reporters and cockroaches of the industry who only knew him as the eldest Zoldyck.- former Heir to the empire, was pleasant enough, yet he also didn’t have to be alone and actively think about his reputation, name, and being a ‘lapdog’, technically a win-win situation.

The drive back to the apartment was oddly quiet, despite Hisokas prior excitement. The car tore through the dark night primarily in silence, only accented by the ‘The Velvet Underground’ album they agreed on after scrolling through Hisokas bizarre Spotify library. It definitely wasn’t the kind of music he was used to from the home he was raised in, didn’t fit between the classical music his mother used to play before her headaches made it impossible and the obscene noise music that Killua would play to trigger the same headaches.

“Could you check my messages for me?”

Hisoka hummed in response and grabbed the phone, manicured nails tapping on the screen, before dropping it unceremoniously back into the cup-holders. “Batteries dead.”

“That can’t be, I charged it before I went out this morning, the battery is supposed to hold for a minimum of 72 hours when idle.”

“Your dainty British batteries sometimes give out under Italian heat, invest in better engineering, and charge it at my place for now.”

“…This will better be worth the trouble.”

The streets of Rieti were expectantly empty, and Illumi parked the car right in front of the apartment (Was it a legal parking spot? Unlikely. But parking fines barely matter when seemingly half the world knows your families name.)

The stairs, the door, the entrance, Illumi knew all of these things about Hisokas apartment. “What is there to show me?”

“Patience. Come here~” Hisoka opened the doors to the balcony, white drapes gently tossed in the fresh breeze. The Zoldyck followed- with sceptical hesitation, but followed nonetheless.

He rested his hands on the railing, eyes turned sky-wards, a few strands of hair upset by the wind.

“If you took me here to just look at the stars, I’m not sure which one of us is the bigger fool.”

“Right, if we wanted to look at soon-to-be dead stars, we could have stayed at the show. But we’re not here for them. They are insignificant, always there to look at until one day they vanish and are forgotten. The real star of the show is over there.” He pointed a long nail at the night sky, and Illumi tried to follow where it pointed.

“The moon? Really?”

“Close, but also mundane and boring. Here- “Before Illumi could react, the strange man had placed their heads next to each other and started to correct Illumis position with a pointed yet gentle grip on his chin. “Look straight ahead.”

Just a little bit off to the left of the moon shone a star brighter than anything else, for a moment Illumi felt ridiculous for missing it.

“It’s Venus. Among all these long dead stars, she’s ever present, stands out the most, and is a rare sight to behold.”

“You took me away from the show to gaze at other planets?” Illumi turned towards the other man, suddenly all too aware of how close they were standing once again.

“I took you away from the show because no one there is capable of understanding your true potential. The way everyone there only sees you as an extension of your family is so infuriating, that it makes me want to ruin all their hopeless little dreams right in front their pitiful faces.” With a swift movement Hisoka had pinned the designer against the railing of the balcony. “You could crush all these people under your heel and make them beg for forgiveness. And there’s nothing I’d rather see than that.”

“I don’t need to make anyone beg, if I want something, I get it. It’s always been like that.” A cold thumb traced the line of his sharp chin, followed by a dark chuckle, and all of a sudden Illumi felt fatigued, all air leaving his lungs. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he remembers his mother recalling symptoms like that. It’s a sickness, nothing more nothing less.

“You get it because you’re a pretty show dog held on a short leash by your family.”

Fucking lapdog. The weight on his chest feels like it could crush his organs any second.

“I’m not asking you to bite the hand that feeds you. But I’d give everything to see what you could do if you were free of restraints.”

Feeling like he needed to hold onto anything, Illumi grabbed onto the back of the other man’s head, fingers buried in wild hair. “And why would you care so much? If you’re just trying to rile me up, there’s ways that don’t make me want to throw you off the balcony and watch your mangled body struggle for life.”

“It’s because you fascinate me, Illumi. You’re my Venus in a sea of dying stars. I want to observe you in all your glory as you outshine everyone else, in your full potential.”

“Who says I won’t crush you as well?” His fingers grasped harder on a few strands of hair. Everything in his body felt wrong, the way his skin was freezing all over, but searing hot wherever he made contact with the other man, the suffocating weight on his chest increased by the second, and in the back of his mind something about sickness echoes again.

They locked eyes, and just then Illumi noticed how close they truly were, Hisokas hot breath falling onto his lips.

And he should have pushed him away.

Should have slapped him, insulted him like the sorry maggot he was.

But he felt weak and sick and so cold, and Hisoka radiated pure heat.

Their lips met, softer than expected of either of them, and Illumi wondered if this is what it feels like to be saved from drowning.

A pleasant warmth seeped into his body, and his lungs felt weightless, like he could breathe for the first time in his life.

Hisoka kissed like each touch might be the last, and Illumi let himself be guided as he wanted, eventually wrapping his arms around the others neck, eager to steal as much of this intoxicating heat as possible.

The man kissed along his jawline, stopping just barely below his ear. “Stay here tonight, cuore mio.”

And Illumi placed a kiss to his temple, as gentle as a man who was never been taught gentleness with people could manage. “Let’s go inside.”

#hxh fanfic #hisoillu #killugon #hxh #hisoka marrow #illumi zoldyck #killua zoldyck #gon freecss #mito freecss #machi komachine #fanfic #fanfiction #I continue to have the worst update schedule known to man <3

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demauryss · 5 years ago

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sail the wildest stretch; 1/6

Summary: Lucas is in a mess. His roommate is his ex-crush. He gets years worth of hairfall if he thinks a minute too long about his philosophy class. His penis-drawing talents are just out of the ordinary. And the cupid assigned to his case is a hair breadth short of committing his murder.

But it’s okay. As long as he has to worry about Eliott Demaury getting to murder him first.

or, cupid8776 has a lucas problem. lucas has an eliott problem. and they are not as unconnected as one might think they are.

enemies to lovers/matchmaking au.

ao3

chapter one: april thunders may blunders

(next)

Dear Lucallecoeur456,

I’m extremely disheartened to announce that your request filed under letter no 654lgb has been denied. According to my records, it is your tenth letter in the past five months which is getting rejected. Personally, I feel saddened as you’re the only person assigned to me who’s over eighteen and still hasn’t found a match. I’d be able to help you better if you consider the following points while writing to cupidint.com next time:

While forming the letter, please consider typing in a computer before you write it down by hand. Or just consider inscribing neatly. You’re the reason our Server turns into a whimpering mess when it transcribes Coup de Foudre - assuming it’s what you write because frankly, your handwriting is garbage – as Coup de Foutre.

Please refrain from using acronyms in your letter. Writing ‘brb’ every time you deviate from a thought does not make you look good. Especially when the abbreviated form has the same number of syllables as the original word. Even better, just totally refrain from straying from an original thought only to come back to it after five pages. Makes me feel like I’m walking through a maze as I’m reading your letter.

While we’re on the topic of refraining, also stop drawing pictures of dogs when you’re asked for what you’re looking for in a partner. I know they are cute, but they can really not be an ideal partner for you.

Consider saving your satirical remarks for the real life. Our Server isn’t smart enough to detect sarcasm and thinks you are being serious when you describe a trash can in the space specified for explaining your qualities.

If you would ponder over these suggestions then I believe I’ll be able to find you a match and it’ll make both mine and your life a lot easier.

Yours truly,

Cupid8776

(They/Them)

The day Yann gets his letter, it’s everywhere on the news. local loner boy, Lucas reads somewhere, having qualities worse than the loner boy from gossip girl has a match. There’s a post circulating on twitter which goes friendly neighbourhood pretty man is officially off the market. And another after reading which makes Lucas wants to wash his eyeballs with hydrochloric acid: hot, tall, model-like being ready to dick down some pink canoes. it’s a trip you’ll never forget!!!

It doesn’t help that Lucas suspects Basile’s fan-account for Timothee Chalamet to be behind half of these posts. Especially the last one. And it also doesn’t help that Yann’s latest letter is currently getting glued to the roof of their bunk bed, right where Lucas would sure be made to stare at it for the rest of his puny life in the lower bunk.

“You’re a fucking prick,” Lucas grits out as he smothers the liquid and ugly look to the back of Yann’s letter. His hands are slimy, and Yann’s fucking face is smiling at him from the small chair he’s perched on. “You don’t even have the fucking decency to do it yourself. Can’t believe I ever thought that I like you. Fucking unbelievable.”

Yann tuts, low and too sure of himself. His face is glowing. His eyes are crinkled. And he desperately needs a punch in one or both of these areas, “You’re being dramatic, you know that?” Yann gets up from the chair, a marker in his hands. If it were up to Lucas he would have used that same object to ruin Yann’s pretty pastel pink blanket. The asshole deserves that and even more. Muttering some more curses, Lucas goes back to the task at hand – pasting the paper in smooth cursive writing courtesy of Cupid5644 on the roof of his bunk bed. Yann looks towards him in the middle of drawing a tally across the four small lines marked on the cupboard above the handle. His face is glowing. He desperately needs a punch or kick to dull that fucking shine. “Besides you signed this up for yourself. So shut the fuck up.”

Lucas groans, resting his head against his pillow, the letter he just pasted staring down at him in all its glory. “This whole thing is ridiculous Yann,” Lucas starts, hands crossed on his chest, “I still believe it’s a world-government scam meant to lure people in for their assassination later. Like, can you believe even Sully from 231-9 has a match. There’s no way you can expect me to believe the System is genuine.”

Lucas looks over to Yann who’s now leaning against the cupboard, scrutinizing Lucas from afar, “Are you sure your reason for not trusting them has got to do with that and not with the fact that in the past three months, each one of your request has been rejected with no guarantee of you ever finding a match?”

“Fuck you, Yann,” Lucas scoffs, turning his back to Yann, his front to the wall. Let Yann believe whatever he wants. It doesn’t affect Lucas, nor does it have any ring of truth to it. Fucking douchebag. Let his match turn out to be some astrology-loving, Harry-Styles-listening, ravenclaw-ass-fanatic. She’ll leave Yann’s Scorpio ass in seconds.

He hears Yann’s footsteps before Lucas feels him crouching behind him, Yann’s finger poking the back of Lucas’s shoulders, “Hey now,” he sounds apologetic, Lucas will give him that, “Life isn’t all about that jazz; your match or partner or whatever. Don’t worry about it. At least you haven’t fallen for their scam yet.”

Lucas laughs as he turns to Yann. His face is glowing. Lucas has changed his mind. The former Yann might deserve a slap in the face with a brick but this Yann deserves all the Kit-Kats Lucas has stashed under his bed. Cupid8776 will have a field day if they found Lucas’s current train of thoughts. Shocking, Lucas can imagine the magnitude of their gasp, Lucallecoeur456 does have a heart after all. Who would have thought.

Lucas smiles at Yann as he extends his arm for him to take. “C’mon now. Basile will have both of our heads on a plate if we waste another second.” He gets up, stepping into his shoes as Yann walks out of their dorm. Something crunches under his foot – Lucas’s blunder; his newest message from Cupid8776. He had thought maybe Letter No 654lgb – lonely gay boy, for clarification – would finally tire them out. But apparently, that wasn’t the case.

Yann had laughed for ten minutes straight when he had read the letter. “Your cupid is going to commit mass murder one of these days. And I think you’re going to be the first.” Lucas had shook his head at Yann’s analogy; he isn’t that horrible. He sighs as he bunches the paper into a ball and bullseye’s it into the trash can – the one he’d described in his letter. Cupid8776 has a big storm coming next.

So here’s the thing in quite simple terms.

The world’s currently under the secret matching agency Cupid International. Before that it used to be SoulsBound, with the tagline where we find your soulmate for you. But then the name changed to Cupid Int. after getting involved in one too many scandals which Lucas remembers vividly; bold headlines on the front page of several newspapers: Soulmate leaves Soulmate for another, better Soulmate #SoulsBoundFails. And Soulmate doesn’t buy eco-friendly products. Puts the planet at risk #FixItSouls. And another, much dangerous and serious than the rest, which still gives Lucas nightmares to this day: Gryffindor finds out Soulmate is a Slytherin. Says even pet stones can tell they’re not compatible #FuckSoulsBound.

These outrages demanded an instant name change, so SoulsBound transformed to Cupid International; with a union of specially trained cupids from all over the world designated to find your potential match anywhere on the planet after you turn eighteen. The changes were justified and a long time coming, Lucas would say, as for him the term soulmate warranted a much deeper, not an ephemeral meaning; which couldn’t be forsaken for anything. But the soulmate that they suggested were anything but that.

And that’s what brings Lucas to the now: the thought that why people hassle so much for getting their letters to Cupid International as soon as they turn eighteen. Why instead of trying the conventional dating method - which has been getting much recognition as of late - they relied on some unknown person’s (or spirit? Who even were Cupids?) judging of whom they’d be compatible with. But then he guesses it has something to do with the fact that the conventional method is for people the Agency has dubbed hopeless – whose matches they still couldn’t find after years of research and rejection. Lucas is halfway turning into one of the people what with his letters of rejection piling up in the trash can.

But that’s not it. The Agency has more success than its scandals, which puts Lucas off. His grandparents met through the former SoulsBound. His neighbors that have been married for over forty years when he started university met through that. Yann’s parents met through that. Everyone he knows has some kind of emotional success story regarding SoulsBound/Cupid Int,.

And then his father had gone against the system and met his mother through the conventional dating method. Look where it had brought them now.

And here’s a thing in even simpler terms.

Lucas hates Cupid International with a passion which burns his sternum and makes his stomach coil in disgust. And it has nothing to do with the way he has told Yann how he thinks the whole System is a government scam. But it has everything to do with the way how Cupid8776 has denied all forty of Lucas’s letters sent in the past nine months of him being eighteen. It makes his heart boil in his blood when he thinks about how he’s turning nineteen in three months and he still has no fucking chance of ever being matched with someone. Which sucks because out of all the remaining 6,999,999,999 people in the world, there still isn’t someone with same interests as him.

Which is cool. Fine even. Lucas isn’t petty about it. And definitely an ass. No. He’s anything but an ass about it. Because you see. He keeps in contact with Cupid8776 when he’s not writing to them on the specified days of the week. He asks them about their health, their lives. If they have someone special in their life. If they took their dog to a walk. If they’re remembering to stay hydrated.

He makes sure to send in an email every week, even if all he gets in reply is a monotonous Dear Lucallecoeur456, I’d appreciate if you would stop sending me non-work related messages. This email is reserved for work queries only. I’d also appreciate if you would use the time you took in composing this message on your request letter as I’m sure it would be more useful than this. Yours truly, Cupid8776 (They/Them) every single time.

So that’s what he does every time, much to the cupid’s dismay. He spends more time drafting his grocery list than the letter. Spends more effort in drawing stick figures of his enemy than correcting mistakes in the letter. Takes more interest in Cupid8776’s private affairs than his own. And still complain every fucking time why he hasn’t found a match yet.

But like he said, it’s fine. He’s fine.

The first damper on Lucas’s already damped mood comes a little after one. When a pretty fucking important experiment is turned in incomplete. The second comes in the shape of a person. And it’s much significant than the other.

Lucas has just crawled out of a brutal microbiology lab, his clothes tattered, voice bruised from screaming at his group members who don’t even know how to work around a fucking microscope. One would disrupt the lens and the other would somehow mess with the resolution. And then Lucas would curse his life and begin the whole fucking experiment just for the thrill of it, really.

So it goes without saying that after seven unholy tries on the experiment, it had been left incomplete as they ran out of time. Unfinished experiments aside, Lucas was fucking exhausted. He could feel the tired in every cell of his body as he walked from the class to the cafe in the campus where he’d agreed to meet the boys. Now not only was he about to drop down any second, he was also fourteen minutes late.

“You’re so early, Lu,” Arthur drawls out, dull, “Couldn’t have come even earlier if tried.”

Lucas shakes his head and plops down loudly on the bar stool in between Arthur and Yann. He dumps all of his stuff on the ground, wincing as the muscles in his neck scream in protest. “I’m sorry,” Lucas sighs, reaching over Arthur to hit Basile on the back of his head who appears to be sleeping with his head resting on the curve formed by his arms which are folded on the counter. He jolts up, eyes wide, as he looks around the café with hand rubbing where Lucas hit him. “This fucker left me on my own in the lab. It was a nightmare, honestly.”

Arthur smiles his head as Basile pouts, “What was I to do, man? Daphne asked for my help, I couldn’t say no to her!”

Lucas shakes his head, looking over to Yann as he nudges his shoulder. Yann motions towards Basile, “But you don’t have a match, right? Where does Daphne come from in all of this?”

A proud smile takes over Basile’s features. Lucas finds it funny how the words Daphne and match in the same sentence makes the sadness and the sleep to literally dissipate from his face. “I know that, Yann. But to answer your second question, I sent an email to the cupid and he reassured me that I’d find a match in the next attempt so.” Basile shrugs like it’s no biggie, when to Lucas, in definitely is. “I’m hoping it is Daphne.”

“Here’s to fucking hoping,” Lucas’s attempt at muttering is intercepted by Yann, who looks at him weirdly. As if in a question. Lucas shrugs, no biggie. He also finds it funny how Basile’s cupid is replying to his emails reassuring him about the whole fucking ordeal, while Lucas’s cupid can’t be bothered for anything. Lucas gets this: Cupid8776 definitely has something against him.

They place their orders for their beverages: coffee for all of them except Lucas. He goes with cardamom tea. It’s when the café’s beginning to fill up with people getting freed from classes that Arthur speaks up. “But like, you haven’t met the person before right? What if they have the emotional range of a lentil?”

Out of the four of them, Arthur was the one who cared the least for the System, even less than Lucas did. He hasn’t sent a single request to Cupid International, saying he isn’t the one for dating or love. And Lucas respects all his choices. He looks up, affirmation on his tongue. But then his eyes fall over Arthur’s shoulder, in between the barricade of tired students blocking the door. And he thinks, he thinks – holy motherfu-

“Speaking of lentils,” He takes a sip of his tea, meeting the boys’ confused stares, “Here comes one, heads-up.”

And it’s just that – how Lucas spots him and a murky grey takes over his surroundings. Metaphorically speaking, of course. Something weird settles in his stomach as his friends look over to the ill lentil as a smile blooms across his ugly face. Fucking traitors.

“Eliott!” One of them shouts. It’s probably Basile. It’s definitely Basile with the way he’s waving his hands in the air. Lucas would have probably knocked them off of the face of the earth had it not been for Yann seizing him by placing both of his hands over Lucas’s shoulder. Lucas inhales deeply as Eliott walks over to their little settlement of barstools and idiots, a bounce in his step as he plays with the strap of the bag over his shoulder. Lucas looks anywhere but at him as he comes to stand next to Basile as he yells excitedly, “Good to see you here.”

“You too.”

Lucas just about murders Basile with nothing but his mind as Eliott’s shirt comes into his line of vision. And as Lucas looks up - goes against the well-being of his eyes - his eyes take a quick sweep of Eliott’s tall figure. Nothing out of the ordinary. He’s currently smiling warmly at Basile, then at Arthur. It’s when that his eyes fall on Lucas that the previous warmth in them is sucked out of them, like a vacuum, and they harden like stones as Eliott looks at him. And Lucas thinks he’s probably remembering the latest stick figure drawn on a piece of paper which Lucas had hit him with earlier as he was bent over an old, tattered book in the library.

“Have a seat, mate.” It’s Arthur. Double fucking traitor. Lucas should consider getting new friends. (But then, he thinks quite sadly, who would ever befriend him if not for these completely insufferable idiots?)

Lucas watches, stomach in knots and million things on his tongue, as Eliott’s face softens as he turns to Arthur. He smiles, “I have a class soon so I should get going.”

Basile murmurs something about it being a bummer. Arthur tells him that they’ll see him around. Lucas doesn’t know a bummer or what that is but he knows the look Eliott gives Lucas over his shoulder as he leaves – he knows the menace which is coiled in the white of his eyes, the absolute anger and disgust he’s reserved for Lucas comes pooling out in that instant, and Lucas almost washes away with it. Fucking pretentious asshole.

Lucas swallows his heart beating in his throat as Eliott disappears from his sight. Un-clenches his hands which have formed a fist without his knowledge. He turns on his stool, passes Yann a smile who’s been weirdly quiet during that encounter, watches as Basile’s contemplative face comes into his line of vision. And curses whoever put him in this situation: A Thinking Basile is not a Good Basile.

“Do you know apparently Eliott still hasn’t found a match either? Which is odd, since the guy’s a deity. I mean, just freaking look at him!”

Arthur side-eyes Lucas as he nods his head in agreement. Lucas should seriously consider getting new friends. The ones he currently have differ largely from on certain matters. And it fucking sucks that they know it too. “Yeah,” Arthur is saying, “he’s pretty. And nice too.”

‘Nice’ my fucking ass. Lucas shakes his head, finishes his cold tea in a second, and picks up his bag which he dumped to the floor. It is common knowledge that Eliott Demaury is good-looking. He’s the person everyone in their uni flocks up to. He’s also pretty fucking amazing at everything he does. Which only irks Lucas more. He gets up, adding onto Basile and Arthur’s conversation with a silent Yann in tow.

“I’m gonna head to the bathroom,” he speaks to no one in particular, not really expecting the three people to stop their oh-so-important conversation about Eliott Demaury to pay him any attention. Shaking his head, he runs through a crowd, past a sulking worker, stressed students and mahogany colored back door to an alley o sheltered light and soft breeze.

Lucas breathes in deeply. His bag makes a sound as it plops to the ground. Closing his eyes, he focuses on calming his heart down which is beating so erratically Lucas has trouble keeping his mind on one place. If he could just wrap his hands around that fucker’s ne-

“Fancy seeing you here,” Oh fucking hell. Lucas fires off every curse he could think of in his heart. There is an off feeling in his stomach as he opens his eyes to Eliott’s hooded figure sitting off to his right, a cigarette placed between his lips. Lucas has to look down to place the full expression on his face, and it thrills him a little. (The act of looking down at him, for once. Not the clever smile which is placed on his face.

“Well, how’s your day doing?”

“Oh, it’s you.” Lucas shrugs his shoulders like it isn’t taking a great deal out of him to plaster the absolute fake smile on his face. “I was wondering why suddenly all the clouds turned grey.”

Even though he’s standing five to six feet away, Lucas doesn’t miss the brie fall of Eliott’s smile. But it’s coming into place faster than Lucas has the chance to feel good about the whole ordeal. He watches, against his will, as Eliott takes a long drag of his cigarette, the end of the stick burns brighter in glowing red embers before he blows white puffs of smoke in the air. He’s just so –

Lucas bites down on his lip to prevent the stupid thoughts from slipping out. Eliott watches him with (feigned) interest.

“Ahh there he is,” Eliott straightens his back. Even though he’s sitting on the steps to the side and Lucas is standing, it still – somehow – feels as if Eliott’s looking down on him. “I was wondering where the meanie in you has wandered off to.”

He didn’t just call Lucas a meanie. What the fuck.

Lucas heaves in a sigh. Wills his heart to stop hammering. “You wouldn’t know a thing or two about that, now. Would you?”

Lucas notices the little shake of his head, the light which falls over his face making it look like it’s dropped the sneer which has now become a part of his features whenever he’s around Lucas. And Lucas should revel in the thought of getting Eliott to show his real colours, but it grates on him regardless.

Eliott rubs his thighs over his jeans. Lucas traces the motion with narrowed eyes. And when he speaks, it’s to a completely different wave.

“You know, when someone asks about your day, you reply and then ask the question back. It’s called having a conversation, you know?”

Lucas bites the inside of his cheek, words already spilling out before he has a chance to assess them, “And what part of me actually looks like I would want to have any conversation with you?” Just. Who does he think he is? Pretending to be nice and all that. It doesn’t mean Lucas would forget when yesterday he doused Lucas’s workplace in some sticky as hell material which ruined not only his assignments which he spread on the table but left a permanent damper on his mood.

There’s a tilt to Eliott’s lips, his eyes bright and every bit gauging Lucas with the way they’re trained on him. The structure in his chest gives a painful squeeze.

Lucas doesn’t like it. At all.

“I should have known,” Eliott says with an air of nonchalance that has Lucas’s insides firing up in anger and – “You’re not one to have a conversation with.”

“Glad to have that sorted, then.” Lucas decides for the same tone Eliott chose earlier. He turns on his heels. And with Eliott’s eyes digging holes in his back, he returns through the same door he came out of earlier.

So here’s another thing in the simplest of terms. Lucas isn’t fond of many things in his life. He hates the System, his philosophy professor, Sully from 231-9. But what he hates even more than all of these things is the fucking lentil Eliott Dick Demaury.

There’s a dull buzzing seeping into his bones as Lucas walks towards consciousness. His limbs are still heavy with sleep, his eyes glued shut as he pats around his pillow for the vibrating device around him. He picks the phone up around a yawn, voice groggy as if he hadn’t used it in years.

Well, he hasn’t used it in hours. So. There’s that.

“Hello?” He croaks out, snuggling his face into the pillow under his head.

“Lucas Lallemant! Why are you still sleeping?”

The voice, filtered through the static, still compels Lucas to bolt upright in the bed, eyes now opened wide as he rubs away the sleep with his hand. “Mama!” He wills his voice to sound as if a trail of drool hadn’t had been drying at the side of his mouth. “You’re still up!”

His mama chuckles a little, as Lucas is left to smile sheepishly. Her voice comes clear now, “I would have called you at crack of dawn and you would still have said the same thing. Besides, don’t you have to go to your shift in half an hour?”

Lucas frowns, and then gets out of the bed. He finds Yann gone, his bed properly made. That’s why Lucas was able to sleep that much, considering Yann has reserved a distinct hatred for Lucas’s sleep.

His limbs are heavy as he changes out of the moth-ridden (not exactly, but its appearance justifies the statement) shirt he slipped into before his nap. “How have you been, Mama?”

“Great,” his mother speaks on the other line. There’s a brightness to her voice which lessens as well as increases the cut of homesickness lodged inside the muscle of his heart. Lucas doesn’t let himself dwell on the sudden sadness which grips him. Instead he focuses on the smile he can hear in his mother’s flowery tone, “I’ve been spending a lot of time in the garden these days. You know the plants Willow got me? They flowered yesterday and they’re so beautiful Lucas!”

Lucas smiles as he picks up his bag lying by the door.

She hums on the other line. “And Dr. Noelle changed my medication. We’ve switched to lighter pills instead of those heavier ones that always made me drowsy and loopy. She said I’m doing better so no need for the heavy dosage.”

There’s something like relief travelling with the air he inhales right to his heart. The sun is bright as Lucas makes his way outside. “That’s good, Mama.”

His mother launches into details about stuff about her new medication like the schedule and the amount of pills she’s required to take each time. Lucas walks out of the campus, listening intently to his mother’s retelling of the shenanigans happening in the various clubs she has joined now that she doesn’t feel so drained anymore. Lucas tells her about his classes and life in return.

“Oh, yesterday in the cooking club, Nadine switched Hira’s container of salt with baking powder. It was quite fun to watch them two bickering afterwards. And there’s a betting pool going around the club about how much time they’re going to take before they get together.”

Lucas shakes his head, a smile pulling up on his face as he crosses the road, “Mama, you should help them sort out their differences instead of enjoying their fights!”

Lucas can hear her shaking her head. She continues, “We should, but it won’t be fun anymore. Besides, I do like some slow burn if I say so myself.”

“You’re spending too much time on the internet,” Lucas muses, “Next thing I know you’ll tell me that you’re reading fanfictions.”

His statement is met with silence. Suspicious silence. He has a minute to be terrified at the prospect before he’s breaking out in laughter, “What the fuck, Mama!”

“Language, Lucas!” She chides, but there’s a smile in her voice which grips Lucas’s heart. Even though he’s kind of wary about the stuff she must find on the web, Lucas knows she can fend for herself.

“Anyways,” she steers the conversation to another direction. Lucas goes with it. “You’re coming on Saturday, right?”

Lucas nods, “Yeah Mama. I’ll try to make it on Friday if the boys haven’t got something planned already.”

The store comes into view, so Lucas says his goodbye into the phone. “I need to go, Mama,” Lucas swallows down the bile which rises in his throat. He misses her so damn much. “I love you.”

“Love you too, honey.” The lines drops, and Lucas is let to chase away the sudden sadness he feels. For a minute, he stands there outside the store, his heart beating with a pang of homesickness. But then he forces air into his lungs, clears his mind, and goes inside the store.

The store is blissfully silent when Lucas enters through the door. There’s a faint smell of lavender still left from the candle Mika must have burnt earlier. Lucas drops his bag behind the counter before he picks up the various records and CD’s piled on the counter and places them in their racks. He starts making his way to the store room for the stuff which was shipped earlier. Might as well get a head-start if he’s early.

The store’s owned by Mika’s aunt, and Lucas works part-time here. It’s a vintage record store; the business is okay. He had earned a full scholarship in the university, but needed a job for the basic necessities in his life. Mika offered a job – and the wage was enough to pay off his expenditures. It is okay, better even. Except – except for the –

Lucas ends up walking face first into a rock-hard chest. His nose gets squished against a set of solid pectoral muscles, the cartilage singing with pain. There are hands grabbing his forearms; stale cigarettes and citrusy bubblegum taking up a better half of his brain. If it hadn’t been for the way the systems operating his reflexes have trained him to be repelled away as soon as the scent hits his nostrils, Lucas is a hundred percent sure he would have delivered a leg straight into the dick in front of him.

“Hey,” there’s an iciness which Lucas feels even though he’s overtaken by the pain in his nose. Lucas looks up, up; and here he is – the dick in all its ugly glory. Lucas tries not to fall on the spot.

“Lucas Lallemant is early? Am I dying or is it really happening?” Eliott cocks his head to one side, lips tilted up a fraction. Lucas smiles back sarcastically. What if he is late to almost everything in his life? That’s none of Eliott’s fucking business. Forcing the very delicious image of Eliott choking to death in his sleep to a dark corner of his brain, straightens his shoulders to stare at Eliott square in the eyes. He’s sad and he’s tired. So he doesn’t have any energy to deal with Eliott today, “Please crawl to whatever grimy hole you’ve crawled out of this time, Demaury.”

Footsteps follow his as he spots up the cardboard box holding the new records in the store room. Mika told him to stack them once he gets the time. He’s picking it up when the slime-covered asshat opens his mouth, “What are you doing?”

Lucas sighs, “Operating a spacecraft.” He moves towards the box, hearing Eliott’s footsteps falter behind him. “What does it look like?” Lucas picks up the box, but Eliott isn’t up to giving it a rest.

“Actually, leave it there. You’re on dusting duty today.”

The fuckin- “What?” Lucas turns on his feet. His stomach is doing weird somersaults. He crosses his arms across his chest and looks at Eliott, whose eyes are narrowed as if he’s examining Lucas. It’s like he’s plotting Lucas’s murder. And Lucas – he has a flashing thought. That would be the highlight of Eliott’s life, no?

He shakes himself into the present. And then gets the words out with great distaste. “Mika told me to stack them so.” He turns around once again, moving towards the box, only to be stopped by a hand on his shoulder. Lucas shakes it off quickly.

Eliott stands off to one side, his face in its perpetual state of frown around Lucas. “Mika left me in charge,” he says, leaning his wait on the door as he looks down at Lucas. He won’t be intimated. No.

Eliott’s eyes flick to the box Lucas has picked up as he turns around, heart and head set in determination despite the initial bout of anxiety and something else which still sings inside him somewhere. Eliott almost has a foot of height in Lucas, and if that isn’t enough to make Lucas flee to the mountains, there are parallel lines drawn on the skin his forehead. His eyes are green, the one which reminds Lucas of moss gathered on stones settled to the ocean bed. Solid. Firm. Steady. Lucas wants to reach out and slap that look off of his face. Preferably with a chair. He raises an eyebrow; a challenge.

Something like light flashes on Eliott’s face, giving Lucas a look into an annoyed feature before turning neutral again. Like the plants viewed from the askew perception of water floating above the surface, Eliott’s eyes turn infinitesimally greener. “You’ll dust off all the records in the A to M section. Or if you’d rather I tell Mika about the time you scratched one of his Stevie Wonders vinyl, I’m down with that too.”

There’s no wonder in the way the box previously in Lucas’s hands retains its original place. No. Definitely not him getting intimated by that giant goo of citrusy smelly being with his head too far up his head. Eliott’s face transforms into one of his ugly smirks; the one which is belittling and totally hateful towards Lucas. Lucas just about launches his self upon him.

“If we’ve figured that out,” Eliott straightens his body, his eyes have that weird sparkle that they always gain whenever they see Lucas miserable, which is just about every fuckin time Lucas comes in contact with Eliott. “I also would like if you could hurry up. We don’t have all day today.”

Lucas bunches his hands in fists to his sides as Eliott walks out, all pretentious and glad as he is to have the final word. He blesses Lucas with one final boastful look over his shoulder, the green now as bright as day.

It’s no biggie, Lucas thinks. He can easily refuse. There must be atleast a thousand records in the A to M section. Well, not a thousand but you get the gist. And Céline has been in Léon for the past week to attend her brother’s wedding. Which means the records wouldn’t have been dusted for years. Not only would Lucas have a stellar day cleaning them, but his terrible allergy would cause him immense pain. But the scratched vinyl and Mika’s wrath after knowing about it would cause him a direct ticket to his grave.

So with heavy steps and an equally heavy heart, Lucas stomps over to the racks holding the worn out records covered with dust. There’s something tingling in stomach. He swallows down the feeling, and pushes Eliott out of his mind. That fucking asshole. No wonder he hasn’t got a match.

He goes towards to the record player he persuaded Mika to get for the store. Eliott had brewed a shit storm when Mika had agreed. His ‘Music would be distracting’ was countered by Lucas’s ‘What kind of a music store would it be if it had no music playing?’ and in the end, Lucas had watched a brooding Eliott triumphantly as Mika brought in his uncle’s record player the next day. And so it beings him a great deal of joy as he places in a record in the player that Mika has given his permission to be played in the store.

The records in front of him glisten with the reason Lucas would be walking out of the store with his eyes on fire and respiratory track on a lock down. Elton John croons in the background as he takes out the sticky notes from his pocket (they come in handy when the situation is like this, okay?), tears off a note. Eliott doesn’t, thankfully, surprisingly, bother him once as he gets to work.

It’s to a violet and pink merging together that Lucas looks up to when he makes his way out of the store. Even though his eyes are stinging, and his throat feels like the surface of a cemented wall; all rough and scratchy with cheeks stained with the water his eyes won’t stop producing, Lucas still looks up as a bird takes flight into the setting sun, a silhouette of the fucking time and energy Lucas lost removing years’ worth of dust off of records and cursing the asshole parading the halls with a stick in his ass.

Lucas doesn’t know why Eliott has made it the mission of his life to make Lucas’s life hell. And he also doesn’t know why Eliott’s like warm, soft sunshine when faced with anyone other than Lucas. Hell, if Céline had been the one asked for the task, Eliott would have stepped right up as the fucking gentleman he is to offer to do it himself. And it is funny how once he’d spot Lucas, his face would twist like he’s sucking on a sour lemon or something. Lucas doesn’t get that. He can’t.

With a sigh heaved out of his super congested nose, Lucas starts walking back to his dorm, his bag slung over his shoulder. He had been thankful for Eliott’s absence as he was walking out. It gave him a chance to stick the drawing which he made onto the first page of some deep shit book Lucas knows Eliott keeps in the drawer of the counter. Eliott was nowhere to be found, and Lucas was left with the proof to reinforce his theory. He firmly believes that besides being a fucking dick, Eliott Demaury is also a ghost which keeps appearing out of the blue and then disappears as if it hadn’t been there before. And Lucas is quite okay with that. The role suits Eliott in more ways than one – but it’s also sad Lucas’s won’t be able to get the pleasure of murdering Eliott if he’s already dead.

A rain droplet falls from the darkening sky over Lucas’s head. It lands cold in the center, making Lucas quicken his pace as he rounds the final corner near the dormitory. Yann would already be there, and Lucas can pester him all night to get him some chicken soup.

He makes it to his room just as the rain starts pelting on the ground. Lucas kicks off his shoes as he enters the room. Yann’s hunched over the study table, half asleep from what it appears to him. It’s when a particularly loud sneeze bursts through Lucas that Yann looks up.

“You look like a vampire,” Yann snickers as he looks at him. Lucas doesn’t need to look in the mirror to see what mighty image he’d be painting with red eyes and pink nose and tear-stains on his cheeks. He drops his bag, takes off his wet clothes and jumps into the bed in his boxers. Muffling his face into the pillow he lets out a groans, “I hate that asshole so much.”

“Whom do you not hate?” There’s a smile in Yann’s voice. Lucas chooses to ignore it. He sighs, turning on his back and staring at the abomination he glued to the roof of his bed earlier.

“That’s not the point, Yann,” Lucas exhales, “He knows I have a dust allergy. But still he fucking blackmailed me into dusting the records. It’s like he was getting me back on something.”

“Well, you do keep making those drawing of him,” Yann stops just as Lucas sits up. He scoffs, “Whose side are you on Yann? I can’t believe he’s bewitched you too.”

Yann shakes his head. He looks like he’s regretting every of his decision which brought him here, to this second, with a Lucas with a quarter of his brain working. Fucking Eliott Demaury and his fucking charm. Lucas doesn’t get what’s so special about it.

“-and then I had to walk in the rain,” Lucas continues, sighing into his arm. There’s a light pitter patter which is reaching Lucas’s ears. Lucas would have been able to take in the sandy smell that must be wafting in the air if his nose hadn’t been so congested. It’s Eliott’s fault. All of it. “Fucking pretentious asshole,” Lucas mumbles.

Lucas turns his head. Yann has his contemplative face on, “Don’t take it the bad way Lu, but don’t you think you’re kind of hung up on him?”

Lucas sits up, shocked to his very core. With a gasp he splutters like a fish out of water, “I’m not!”

Lucas doesn’t know where Yann is getting these terrible thoughts. Lucas won’t fall a prey to that. Fuck. Yann doesn’t seem fazed. It’s like he’s done this every other day of his life. What, Lucas doesn’t know. “If you ask me, or Arthur, or Basile, it kind of seems that you are, Lucas. You bring him everywhere, you know? Even if the situation doesn’t call for it, you’ll somehow make it so it has something to do with Eliott. And I think that’s where your fault lies: You give him too much thought.”

And that is…..totally not wrong. Maybe partially, but – Lucas does bring him everywhere with him. And that’s totally on Lucas. It’s maybe the reason he’s so miserable half of the time. He gnaws at his bottom lip, then, as in afterthought, speaks, “Well, then, fuck the rain, I guess?”

Yann’s face lights up as a chuckle passes his lips, “You know what they say Lucas: April showers May flowers.”

Lucas looks at him from the corner of his eyes, “More like April thunders May blunders but whatever floats your boat, I guess.”

And like expected, Yann starts shaking his head, exhaling heavily. The sound makes Lucas grins and he looks up just as Yann clicks his tongue, “You’re a hassle, Lallemant.”

“What do you mean? I’m a delight to have around.”

Yann clocks his head to the side, eyes narrowed, “Listen, I know atleast one person who would greatly differ with your statement.”

Lucas sighs, plopping his head back on the pillow, “Yann, you and I both know that Eliott hates my guts, so.” He shrugs. It’s common knowledge now. And wasn’t Yann just lecturing him about giving Eliott to-

“I was talking about your cupid, actually,” Yann has a terrible looking thing crawling into the fibers of the cells constituting the skin Lucas so badly wants to punch right now. The corner of his lips hitch up a fraction before he gets up from his chair, slinging his leather jacket over his shoulder. “I’m gonna go out for a smoke,” Yann says, a smile crinkling his eyes, “You sit here and think about him, okay?”

He’s out the door in a second; the pillow Lucas throws at him landing on the ground after harshly colliding with the door.

Fucking assholes.

[email protected]

Dear applicants,

Requests for the new sessions have been opened. Kindly take out the prints of your forms from cupidint.com. Please make sure to send in your requests to your designated Cupid before Friday. Any and all requests received after the deadline will be rejected.

Yours truly, Cupids

Lucas stares at the bright flashing and too depressing email displayed on the computer screen. There’s a dull throbbing behind his left eyebrow, his eyes are burning, and Yann still hasn’t returned with the food Lucas messaged him to get for him a few minutes after his departure.

His eyes move from the screen severely damaging his brain to the ugly yellow form Lucas keeps stashed in case of emergencies. His pen rests on top of in a bit slanted. Lucas hates the very sight of this form; apart of tree wasted for nothing. He remembers the many papers like this he sent many times before, and still end with fucking disappointment. What or who is to say this time won’t be the same.

With a dejected sigh he picks up the pen and presses the clicker. Might as well sign up for another disappointment. It is as he starts reading What would you pick to describe yourself as? Please pick one of the choices and is in the process to bang his head against the table cover over the answers that his phone pings with a notification. He unlocks the device, squinting at the light flooding his burning eyes. His stomach coils in on itself.

Eliott D 💩

céline will be back on friday

so it’s your duty to dust the records till then

also, you draw terribly. thought i should let you know

Lucas stares at the words with a newfound hatred which now boils beneath his skin and rises up like a tide ready to consume all of him. But if that happens Lucas would so something extremely petty and stupid. Eliott won’t let him live, and besides, Lucas is above that. He turns his phone off, and with a bout of energy coming from somewhere inside him, underneath his sternum, he picks up the pen and, because he’s inspired, starts drawing penises everywhere there’s a blank for answers he’s supposed to write. The letter’s going to be rejected anyway; Lucas might as well go down with dignity.

This is it, Lucas thinks, when Cupid8776 finally gives up on him. Ha. Lucas would finally be free of their trap.

(And, because he’s inspired, he also takes a picture of the penis, lines them up with the various shots of the stick figures currently accumulating in his photo library, and sends them all to Eliott D (Poop Emoji). In response to his last message, Lucas provides: i don’t think i’m terrible. i’m getting better at drawing your portrait, see and presses send.)

Lucas folds the letter into an envelope and is on his way to mail it. And when Eliott replies back with a chain of messages including some very gruesome you are fucking annoying and extremely threatening crawl back to the whole YOU have come out of, psychopath somewhere between that, Lucas doesn’t feel any remorse.

Like he said, he’s above that.

#elu fic #skam france #stws #elu drabble #skam france fic #lucas lallemant #eliott demaury #elu #penned #stws c

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beakami · 5 years ago

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The Force and Love Series (01/04): It’s Just Fear (Obi Wan x Reader)

Hello everyone! This is the first chapter of one of the series I’ll be posting. I am so high on Star Wars right now (Though I intend on writing a couple of Marvel one shots in what’s left of the week).

It has been ages since I was active here but I really want to come back (specially when I am getting sooo tired of twitter, really, too sick of it) and intend to be active and bring you all many good stories so. Let’s start ^^

It is finished and it will be 4 chapters, but just for now. Once I rewatch the movies and finish The Clone Wars series I will probably write some more ^^

Summary: Reader is rescued from a life of servitude when Obi Wan and Master Joda find her while on a very important mission. Her connection with the Force is deep and quite different from the one the Order is used to. She is now free but, what will it be of her life? Will she follow the path of the Jedi? Will feeling get in the way?

Warnings: Will change in furute chapters but for now just some angst and mention of slavery. IF there is anything else you see and think I should add here, please, do tell me and I will do so gladly. Enjoy

Count: 2442 words

>>There were many outstanding beings in the Galaxy. Those strong with the Force; those who knew how to heal people or machines; or simply those with a strong calling, outstanding even if just in passion. You whished you were like them, stronger or smarter or special in any way, because you saw yourself as very less than you really were. You couldn’t see your good traits, relinquishing them as just “normal” or “common”. But your patience and loving manners towards other were not easily found; the pure heart beating in your chest was not of this world, for you would rather die protecting others than hurt them; but also, you were unaware of how deep you were actually connected with the Force. And that is why, even if you couldn’t really see it yourself, that the Jedi rescued you.

>>Sadly, they had found you and freed you from slavery when you were too old by their customs (and your safety) to be trained as a full Jedi, or so they first said. Yes, you felt the Force, you had always done so and in a way that made Master Yoda smile when you said it was just nothing. Because it had always felt as normal to you as breathing, even if you didn’t know what it was. You could see it more than control it, but the discussion was still there…Should they train you? It is not like they would have to start from zero, you had learned yourself as much as you could, asking the very Force what to do, and you always felt it answering, but did you want to be a full-fledged Jedi? Their ways were…well, you liked them, they believed in peace and their love for their Creed was admirable, but it quite shocked you that one of the things they forbid was so vital to you. Love. How could it be forbidden for them when you firmly believed it was the very core of everything good?

>>You weren’t dumb, you understood the reasons behind it, but even if you had never truly fell in love (being a slave and focusing on not dying whilst controlling the Force didn’t leave much free time) you didn’t want the possibility to be taken from you. Because even if their faces were a little blurry then, you still remembered you parents’ feelings vividly, how their love for you and each other, made that old little hut the coziest place on that Maker forsaken planet you lived. And yet at the same time you wanted to learn, to really understand that part of you that had always whispered in your head, that had been your only companion for many years now.

>>And there you were, sitting on the grass, just outside of the Jedi Temple in Coruscant, while the Council decided if they would give you a chance that you didn’t know if you even wanted. You sighed, eyes darting up at the blue sky above, not such a clean color due to the contamination of the one big city planet you were on, but so, /so/ beautiful compared to the one of your home planet. You brought your knees to your chest, wrapping them with both arms, pondering what to do. They had saved you after all, and you wanted to learn…you really didn’t want to disregard their generosity but…Could you ask for more that they had already given you? Could you, someone who saw herself more of a burden that anything else just…ask for something? You felt your eyes sting, hiding your face against your knees, really dreading it all, regardless of what their decision ended up being.

>>It is then, you heard a voice that had grown familiar over the two months you had spent on that place, Master Obi Wan’s.

-Are you feeling well, Beatrice? – he asked, sincere concern dripping from his voice.

>>You were not used to such kindness as he had shown you since you arrived. And you felt quite overwhelmed by how not only him, but his padawan Anakin, or Master Yoda had just smiles and good feelings towards you. So, you raised your head, forcing a smile that wasn’t entirely false, because you could never not be grateful towards such gentleness.

-I am just…worried, Master Obi Wan…I am truly grateful but…I really don’t know what I want.

>>You said, sincere as always because, what was the point of lying to him when it was so obvious you were feeling distressed? You felt his Force signature tremble a little, as if knowing what was troubling you and understanding just too well.

-It is expected, dear Beatrice, it is a big change, an important decision that will affect your life forever more, and I understand there are some…harsh conditions. – he answered, his voice calm and understanding as ever.

>>You met him for just a little while, and yet you felt such a strong connection with him. It was as if you had known each other for years and not months. He was with Master Yoda when they found you and had been around for the past two months, always vigilant, always making sure you felt welcome and didn’t get lost in this new place.

-I get the reason behind it all, Master Obi Wan but…for me it is just…fear.

>>He quirked a brow, suddenly as interested as he was confused.

-Elaborate, please.

>>You liked how he never demanded, not like your owner, not like you had always been treated; he asked, gently, always giving you time to think your words through, even if he could feel your line of thought in the way the Force in you swayed or changed color.

-I really believe that those who remain strong and don’t fall to the dark side…would keep as strong if not more if they could love. Would you abandon your family, those you love, for a life of darkness away from them if you could be together in the light?

>>You pondered, a hand running back through red locks of hair, trying to stay calm, not used to anyone actually listening to what you had to say.

-Love is never weakness…love is the strongest form of Force, it binds us all together whether is the love for a friend, a brother or a lover.

>>He raised both brows, impressed at the bold but mature statement you were proposing and you blushed, really loving and dreading the attention all at the same time.

-Not that I know much of some of those… -you were quick to say and then recomposed yourself- but I remember the love of my parents, and how it was all we had…and yet I never fell into darkness. I never used the Force to hurt others because I knew it was wrong. Yes, I protected my parents more than once but always trying to be my best self…and all because of them, of their love for me and mine for them. That can’t be bad. That can’t lead to the dark side. I think it’s all the way round.

>>Still silence from him, but another raise of one of his eyebrows assured you he was listening and encouraged you to keep talking.

-If I’m being honest with myself…I really believe that I would have fallen into darkness if it weren’t for them.

>>Your eyes fell to the ground, ashamed of the very thought, but he put a gentle hand on your shoulder making you look up at him.

-It is important to admit those things to yourself; it helps to not have it happen again. -He added and then coaxed you to continue with a soft movement of his hand as he removed it from your shoulder- So…fear?

>>He reminded you of the first statement you made in the conversation and you nodded.

-Yes. That rule is based on fear, fear of an enemy even stronger if they had someone to protect, fear of someone who would anyway fall to the dark side, having a reason to fight more fiercely.

>>You explained, a bit of passion appearing in your voice and vibrating in you Force signature, making Obi Wan look even more surprised at you.

- Because I have never seen love make someone good turn suddenly bad. Yes, if you have darkness in you, love is as strong as if you don’t, and you’d do crazy things for it. But it doesn’t change who you are deep inside. I have only seen it made good people try their best, and bad people…they just use it as an excuse. Because when they didn’t have it, they did the same awful things and gave another false reason to justify their wickedness…their weakness.

-So -he mutters after a while, still pondering something, a thought you can’t grasp but you feel it running though his head- For you, love is like the Force.

>>You smiled brightly when you felt you had managed to bring your point though to him.

-Exactly! It is powerful, and can be used for good or evil but…

-It is not evil nor good on itself. -he finished your sentence and you nodded with a smile-.

-Exactly…and the fear that it would give more power to those who end up falling into darkness…deprives others the sheer happiness of loving and being loved, and for me that is…just…too sad to bear.

>>And you meant it, something he clearly felt in how the Force trembled and seemed to embrace you, as if consoling you from that pang of sadness the sole idea made you feel. He hadn’t said it more than once, in a whisper that he didn’t know if either you or Master Yoda heard (though of course he did hear it even if you were closer to Obi Wan and didn’t). He doubts anyone had actually stated it out loud in front of you, but your relationship with the Force was like nothing they had ever seen, being that, the main reason the debating over you had extended for so long, going days with them never ending up deciding on anything. They all felt the Force, and through training and meditation they could control it and be in consonance with it; for them it was a tool, something sacred to respect and use only to pursue the ways of the Jedi. And yet you…it felt like the Force liked you, like it was part of your very being, with you understanding how it worked even if no one was ever there to tell you.

>>It amazed him…but also scared him, well, it had scared him. For some reason, after those two months getting to know you, and what you had told him now about love and the Force, he felt you could never be dangerous, that you would never hurt anyone good even if that put you in danger. And that softened his heart a little. And he knew, he knew you had to expose your ideas to the Council, because he was convinced that they would also stop being scared of you and your relationship with the Force if they only knew, if they only saw the pure kindness and hope deep within you.

>>You wanted to talk some more, not only because he was always nice to converse with, but also because it kept you occupied and thus you didn’t overthink everything, wondering what they would be arguing and why it was taking so long, finishing the days without having reached a decision. But when you were going to open your mouth again to ask him what he was thinking, looking at you so concentrated, his name was called, and you both raised your heads to follow the voice, finding Anakin waving a hand to call on his master.

-I’m afraid my presence is needed.

-Of course. -you nodded and stood up as he did.

>>He had told you more than a couple of times that you don’t have to do that anymore, that you are free, but once you managed to tell him that it was not a slave thing, but just out of being polite, he smiled, murmured a “Sorry”, and with a shake of your head to render it all without importance, he never mentioned it again.

-We will talk more later, but do try to stay calm, you will be welcomed here no matter what you choose. I…think they should listen to your ideas. -You looked at him in disbelief- Do you think you could handle telling the Council what you told me? -he saw the panic in your eyes and put a hand on your shoulder- Only if you want. -He assured you- Only of you think it would help them understand you better…because it had really helped me.

>>You blinked a couple of times; Did that really help him understand you better? You didn’t really get why, but it felt right, it was a nice change that someone actually cared enough to try and understand you. And…you really didn’t want to go, not back to where no one even knew what the Force was, not back where you were a monster and a freak.

-I could…try. I…I don’t want to go…and be alone again.

>>You answered, each word lighter, softer, ending the sentence in just a whisper as you dropped your head. His fingers carefully rounded your chin and lifted you face, finding yourself in front of two soft blue eyes and a lovely smile that made you blush.

-Do not fret, Beatrice, you won’t be alone again. This is your home now.

>>”Home”, that word made you forget the fingers in your chin, and even after you nodded and he left with Anakin, promising he would come back later to check on you, it kept running around in your head. “Home” …it sounded so distant for you, so sweet and almost forgotten in the back of your head. You sat back on the grass and whispered it so low that even if someone were sitting right next to you, they wouldn’t have heard it. The word felt strange in your tongue as the syllables rolled over it, warm, tingly and…so long unsaid until he mentioned it, until it really came to you that this could really be home.

>>When that thought crossed your mind tears run to your eyes, sadness and happiness overwhelming you all at the same time. You could have a home, a family of sorts, people who understood and cared for you, but…why was there always a “but”? You hated it, nothing ever came free, not since…such a long time ago when the love of your parents was provided unconditionally. Ever since then, everything came at a cost, a condition, something to break your body or your heart, and every time the decision was reduced to its minimum expression…was it worth the price?

___________________________

Next Chapter (2)

#star wars #obi wan x reader #obi wan kenobi #fanfic #Fic #obk x reader #star wars fanfic #The Force And Love Series

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coveredinsweetpea · 5 years ago

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I Can't Fall In Love Without You || K.J. Apa

A/n: This was requested by @namelesslosers . Thank you!! I fucked it up a bit, but i hope you’ll still like it!

Summary: Y/n is a famous singer/actress who used to date KJ. When one night, at a ceremony they’re both attending, she performs a song that’s ‘not-so-subtly’ about him, things take a turn.

“Y/n, hurry! why aren’t you dressed?” or “Sign your name here, here and here” or “You have to go to this event, everyone will there” Words could never describe just how sick you were of having to put up with this specific façade. This on going rush you’ve been living in, this ever lasting maze of horror filled fake smiles, exhausted in you in a way you never thought possible. The life inside you was now grey colored, and a dark aura surrounded you. At this point, you had the exact same job, hung out with the exact same people, lived in the same house and slept in the same bed as you did when you still had him. Walking inside your apartment and not hearing any “Babe, I made food, the top is a little burnt but I’ll eat that part, I swear the bottom tastes really good. Gordon Ramsey taught me” felt utterly useless, and it didn’t take long before it turned into dread. The Grammy’s were tonight, and you sighed heavily as you got out of the limousine, realizing this was yet another red carpet you’d walk without KJ by your side. You’ve done it for years before meeting him, you knew what to do and how to act, the whole thing was that you didn’t want to do it by yourself. You missed his arm around your waist, and those stupid dad jokes he’s whisper in your ear just to get you to flash that genuine smile of yours for the camera. Despite being media trained and knowing exactly what to do, how to keep your legs and shoulders, where to look and so on in order to look good in pictures, KJ knew just how much better you looked when your true feeling were showing. All things considered, you were sure no one noticed just how much different you looked without him, but frankly, you were glad they had no idea. The last thing you needed were more questions about him, considering it had been months since you two parted ways.

“God!” Mary exclaimed, rushing to you, “How many times do I have to say this! Don’t sit down!” “Yeah yeah yeah” you mumbled, standing up from the armchair. Your eyes were still trained on the screen of your phone, following carefully a thread showing all the outfits people wore to the event. You knew Joe was invited, but since he wasn’t a nominee or an important guest, you weren’t surprised you didn’t see pictures of him yet. “Looking for him again?” your best friend sighed, “You’re performing in 2 minutes, get your vibes on!” “I’d fucking have my vibes on-” you snapped, talking as you walked away from her, “If you’d just let me be!” “What’s gotten your panties in a bunch, huh?” she taunted, walking towards you, “Haven’t seen you this moody in a while” “Meg, you know I love you” you sighed, turning around just enough to be able to look her in the eye, “But now is not the time” “It’s KJ, isn’t it?” “No, it’s not” you lied with a roll of your eyes, “I’m just nervous, that’s all” To be fair, it wasn’t a complete lie. You really were more nervous than you’ve been in ages, but that was because this was the biggest stage you’d walk on without as much as a smile of encouragement from him. KJ was somewhere in the audience, and the fact that your source of confidence would just watch your performance from beginning to end without having any direct influence over it, made you knees weak. Eventually, there was no where for you to hide anymore as the time to step on stage finally came. You did so on shaky knees, but as soon as your ears were met with chants of excitement and rounds of applause, you remembered why you chose this path in life. After a few seconds the lights dimmed, and silence settled. The song you had to perform wasn’t the most vocally challenging, but the emotional baggage it brought upon you was enough to make your lungs shake with every word you sang.

“I can be out every night No one else holding me down I can do just what I like But I can’t fall in love without you I can’t fall in love without you

Please don’t fall in love without me I hope you’re sorry Can’t find the words to say Hope you’re always worried Worryin’ ‘bout me”

Your palms were sweaty against the microphone and your ears were ever so numb, that you could barely hear yourself. The emotion for this song came from somewhere deep within, and you knew your secret was out - if you could even call it a secret. But at that moment, you didn’t care about them, all you saw before your eyes were the endless nights you spent without KJ. It didn’t matter if you were alone or not, it was his company you wanted, not anyone else’s. After your performance, Shawn Mendes took the stage and ended the whole ceremony, as you watched quietly from backstage. When everything was over, you hurried to change out of your long light blue dress, and into a black one, which despite being less revealing, was shorter and tighter. Ditching your pair of high heel sandals in favor of a pair of silver stilettos, you jumped into your car, where your stylist did her magic, and turned your flawless curls into a sea of messy waves. While you were still more than a few blocks away from where the after party was to be held, your phone started blowing up. Twitter had gone mad, 3 different hashtags involving you and KJ were trending, your Instagram follower count had gone up by 80.000 bringing you close to the 70M milestone. All kinds of magazines and websites, most of which you haven’t even heard of before were posting about you, updating, speculating and analyzing. As it turns out, performing a song that was obviously about your ex after you’ve just received the first Grammy of your career, was indeed a big deal. The way from your car and to the door of the venue was quitter than you expected, but it was still early and the paparazzi hadn’t yet found the location. You calmly walked inside, the party already in full swing. A lot of celebrities that had no business attending the ceremony but were considered important enough by the mainstream media, were invited to this party. Most of your friends were there, so it didn’t take long for you to mingle in. You tried keeping yourself busy jumping from group to group, meeting new people and seeing old friends, but your mind wasn’t having it. KJ was still haunting your thoughts, so you made your way to the bar, hoping a drink would help you get in the mood to party. As you pondered what to order, you felt a very familiar cologne invade your senses. It made your knees weak, and your heart was beating at a pace that was by no means safe as you feared that at any moment, it would physically burst out of your chest. “Two strawberry vodka” you heard him saw, and it took everything inside of you not at aww at his words, as that had been your drink, starting from your very first date, up to the last time you drank together. “Wow” you smiled, turning to him, “Classy” “You taught me” KJ laughed, already blushing. It might have been the light, but the red in his hair was darker and his dark brown roots were beginning to show - that was something you always loved about him. He was wearing a plain white t shirt tucked into black jeans, and had his hair not been red, he would have made a perfect James Dean. “What’s up?” you asked softly, facing him completely despite still leaning against the bar. “I just wanted to congratulate you” he said, waving his arm. He would have touched you, squeezed your elbow or patted your shoulder, but you sensed the fear in his gestures, and it truly pained you. “Thank you” you smiled, “This is really big, didn’t think I’d win” “I knew you would” he grinned. “Did you?” “Yeah!” KJ nodded, before his smile faded, “I actually wanted to text you last night and wish you good luck and all that, but I figured it was a bad idea” “It wasn’t” you pouted, “I would have appreciated it. But now is almost just as good” He looked at you, his eyes lingering on yours as a new kind of smile curled the corners of his lips upwards. “I know just the thing-” he mumbled, grabbing his phone out of his right pocket. He kept it so you couldn’t see what he was doing, but soon after your drinks arrived, he placed his phone back in his pocket, and an exact second later, your own buzzed. “Oh god” you giggled, rolling your eyes. It was obviously a text from him, but you didn’t hesitate to read it. “Hey, Y/N, I know we haven’t talked in ages and I hate that a lot. I am also aware I missed a lot of important things in your life, but I did follow as much as I could through the internet so my prediction is based on facts. I’ll keep this short because I know you don’t like sappy moments, but that Grammy is yours. There’s no doubt about it. One day, you’ll win an Oscar too, I know it. Good luck, angel! x” “See?” you whined, stomping your foot against the floor, “Why are you like this?” “Like what?” he asked curious, leaning his head to the side. “Like-” you stuttered, furrowing your brows, “Like you!” “Like me?” KJ laughed, advancing towards you a bit, but still keeping a decent distance between your bodies, “Why am I like me? what do you mean?” You rolled your eyes with a scoff, “You know what I mean!” “Why do I still worry about you even after all this time?” he teased, coming another step closer. Despite knowing where this was going you didn’t have it in you to stop it, “Don’t make references to my song!” “It’s a good song” he defended himself. “Of course it is” you scoffed, closing the distance between your bodies. “Why? Because you wrote it?” KJ mocked, wrapping his left arm around your middle. You looked up into his eyes and saw him smiling down at you. It warmed your heart as you haven’t seen that exact reaction in months, and to be honest, it was you absolute favorite thing in the word. He looked at you in complete awe and you were done. “No…” you whispered, “Because it’s about you” He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, “I still love you, you know? Nothing changed for me, and it won’t anytime soon” Your teasing mood and flirty attitude disappeared in an instant, now you were sad, angry - at yourself, and had no idea what to do. “I shouldn’t have performed that song, this isn’t ok” Despite saying these things, you didn’t back away from him. Instead, you wrapped your arms around him and hid your face in his neck. KJ brought you closer to his chest, holding you tight around your middle. It was a hug at the edge between a reunion and a goodbye, and you were dead set on not letting go of him until you knew which one of the two it actually was. “Hey-” KJ said, gently pushing you away so he could look into your eyes as he spoke, “We can talk about this, whatever it is. Let’s go outside and-” “No” you shook your head, “I can’t do this tonight” “I-” he tried to speak, obviously taken aback, but you stopped him. “I waited for this night ever since I was 8. I dreamed about holding that award in my hands for so long, I don’t want anything to ruin this for me” It was visible just how much your words pained him, but he held it all back. Or at least he tried. Tears glistered at the corners of his eyes, but he still nodded in agreement, taking a step back, “I respect that” You grabbed his hand to stop him, as you didn’t want to let anything unfinished, “I do love you, and I mean it from the bottom of my heart. Take me back-” you said, “for tonight. Can everything go back to normal, just for this night, and we’ll talk about it in the morning, and we’ll work through things as they come, I thought I-” KJ cut you off, as he grabbed your cheeks, and kissed you. He was more passionate than you ever felt him. You’ve done this so many times, yet this felling right now, it was knew. You teeth still clanked against his, and you still licked the corner of his mouth by mistake, but your eyes remained closed, just as his, because this was new. This was the beginning of something new. It was like your very first kiss all over again. With one arm around you and a hand planted on the side of your rib cage, he held you as close as he could, every now and then sighing against your lips, sighs which eventually turned into little moans, until you had to pull away. “Scare me like that ever again-” “What?” you laughed, “Did you think we were gonna break up again, or?” “Are you ever not this sassy?” KJ exclaimed. “Would I still be the woman you fell in love with if I didn’t mock you?” He laughed out loud, “Probably not, so please don’t ever stop”

#kj apa #kj apa imagine #kj apa x reader #kj apa fanfic #kj apa fluff #kj apa angst #kj apa fic #archie andrews blurb #archie andrews x reader #archie andrews #archie Andrews fanfic #archie andrews imagine #kj apa one shot #archie andrews one shot #riverdale imagine #riverdale fanfiction #riverdale imagines #riverdale #riverdale fic

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mostlysignssomeportents · 5 years ago

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Pluralistic: 11 Mar 2020 (Saturated fat and obesity, which foods produce satiety, spying VPNs, Twitter's research-friendly terms of service)

Today's links

Obesity and unsaturated fats: Blaming unsaturated fats for obesity is very plausible, but likely wrong, alas.

The satiety index: Which foods cause or satisfy cravings?

Sensor Tower's VPNs and adblockers spied on users: Like sneaking laxative into Immodium.

Twitter's new Terms of Service help academics: Good bots welcome.

Italy's "I Stay in the House" law: The comprehensive quarantine plan.

Scam-buster hacks into a scam-factory: He gets their CCTVs, recordings of their calls, transaction data, Whatsapp chats, and more. Delicious.

Postmortem: the catastrophic EU Copyright Directive. Testimony from yesterday's Senate hearing.

Podcast: A Lever Without a Fulcrum Is Just a Stick: My latest Locus column, on how copyright failed artists and enriched corporations.

This day in history: 2010, 2015, 2019

Colophon: Recent publications, current writing projects, upcoming appearances, current reading

Obesity and unsaturated fats (permalink)

Scott Alexander does a very deep dive into the literature on diet, weight, and saturated vs unsaturated fats.

https://slatestarcodex.com/2020/03/10/for-then-against-high-saturated-fat-diets/

The most important elements for me were first, the validation that something really has changed: average US adult men's weight went from 155lbs to 195lbs from the 1800s to today. The 90th percentile 1800s man weighed 185lbs, today, it's 320lbs. US obesity rates in the 1800s were 1%. Today, they're 25%.

But the usual culprits can't explain the change: they ate more bread and potatoes in the 1800s, for one thing.

In China, obesity rates were very low even with a diet dominated by white rice.

1970s France had 1800s US obesity rates, on a diet of "baguettes, pastries, cheese, meat. Lots of sugar, white flour, and fat."

It's true that some tactics (intermittent fasting, low-carbing) work for some people, but they're not what worked in 1970s France or 1800s USA. So if those things work, they're "hacks" – not an indictment of carbs or eating three meals a day.

There's a widespread theory that the change is driven by the switch from saturated to unsaturated fats, which was driven by spiking heart disease in the 1950s. It's likely this heart disease epidemic can be attributed to the vast increase in smoking a couple decades earlier, but the tobacco industry's denial machine meant that the blame fell on diet, and the US (and then global) diet's fat composition shifted dramatically.

We ate a lot fewer animal-derived fats and a lot more plant-derived fats. These fats had lots more Omega 6s and (to a lesser extent) 3s, and the ratio of these Omegas also changed dramatically, both in our diet and in our bodily composition. Intriguingly, these play a significant role in metabolism. There's a plausible ring to this whole business – particularly as a way of crisping up what we mean when we say "avoid processed foods." What is "processing?" Maybe it's doing something that requires vegetable fats.

Unfortunately, neither the literature nor the lived experience of experimenters support the theory. Studies don't support it. Meta analyses don't support it. Reddit forums skew heavily to people saying it didn't work for them (dotted with people for whom it did).

Which makes weight gain a mystery. It can't be (just) exercise: we're exercising more now than we did 40 years ago, and we're heavier now. Studies about causes are inconclusive overall, but clear that weight gain is more explained by diet than exercise. What's more, we're seeing weight gain in lab rats, pets and feral animals, so exercise seems an unlikely culprit here.

Alexander ponders other possible causes: plastics or other contaminants in our diet, or that it's a "ratchet" (once your weight set point changes, it doesn't change back.). Both have little evidence to support them.

He concludes that he's "more confused than when I started it," but will avoid unsaturated fats where possible, with the exceptions of Omega-3 rich oils (fish/olive oil).

I am likewise confused, but also better-informed than I was before I read his post.

The satiety index (permalink)

I lost ~100lbs in 2002/3 with a low-carb diet. The thing I immediately noticed when I started eating (lots) more fat and (lots) less carbs was that I was always satiated, with none of the food cravings that had plagued me all my life.

No other diet since has had that effect. I really struggle with cravings (and have put 50lbs back on through my 40s, though some of that is muscle from a much higher level of exercise). For me, satiety is the barrier to sticking to any diet. I don't just get ravenous, I get these all-consuming cravings that I can't put out of my mind, even if I resist them (and the longer I resist, the more likely it is that I'll really blow it out when I give in at last).

So I was really interested in this 1995 open access study, "A Satiety Index of common foods," which offers a league table of the foods that made subjects feel full.

https://www.researchgate.net/publication/15701207_A_Satiety_Index_of_common_foods

The meaty (heh) parts are in these charts on pp682-3.

Sensor Tower's VPNs and adblockers spied on users (permalink)

Sensor Tower, a company that made apps billed as privacy-protecting, installed man-in-the-middle certificates on your devices that let them spy on everything you did online.

https://www.buzzfeednews.com/article/craigsilverman/vpn-and-ad-blocking-apps-sensor-tower

They made 20+ VPN apps for Android and Ios, but didn't disclose that all those apps were owned by analytics company, Sensor Tower. The apps had names like "Free and Unlimited VPN, Luna VPN, Mobile Data, and Adblock Focus."

The apps installed a "root certificate" in users' devices. With this cert, the company could insert itself in all the device's otherwise secure, encrypted sessions – web browsing, email, etc. Sensor Tower admits that they collected data using this cert, but insists that it was "anonymized," which is something most computer scientists agree is likely impossible for this kind of data. Re-identification of anonymized data is devilishly hard to avoid.

The claim is made even less credible when you listen to the company's other claims about its practices, such as the idea that they hid the authorship of their apps "for competitive reasons."

Or this howler: that "the vast majority of these apps listed are now defunct (inactive) and a few are in the process of sunsetting." Well, yes, they were removed for violating their users' privacy. It's not like the company had a change of heart or anything.

And then there's this: "Apple and Google restrict root certificate privileges due to the security risk to users. Sensor Tower's apps bypass the restrictions by prompting users to install a certificate through an external website after an app is downloaded."

Twitter's new Terms of Service help academics(permalink)

Twitter just published a new, and much-improved developer policy, one that permits academics to field bots for research and auditing purposes.

https://blog.twitter.com/developer/en_us/topics/community/2020/twitter_developer_policy_update.html

"Researchers will be able to share an unlimited number of Tweet IDs and/or User IDs, if they're doing so on behalf of an academic institution and for the sole purpose of non-commercial research, such as peer review."

https://techcrunch.com/2020/03/10/twitter-rewrites-developer-policy-to-better-support-academic-research-and-use-of-good-bots/

Twitter's also creating a bot registry that must include contact info for the botmaster, so that "it's easier for everyone on Twitter to know what's a bot – and what's not."

https://developer.twitter.com/en/developer-terms/policy#4-b

Italy's "I Stay in the House" law (permalink)

The FAQ for the Italian government's "I Stay In the House" decree is a fascinating document:

http://www.governo.it/it/articolo/decreto-iorestoacasa-domande-frequenti-sulle-misure-adottate-dal-governo/14278

Most notably, Italy has kicked out its tourists. As Bruce Sterling writes, "It's a tourist-ectomy. An Italy devoid of all tourists. It's fantastic, unheard-of. Surely this hasn't happened in at least 700 years."

https://www.wired.com/beyond-the-beyond/2020/03/stay-house-decree/

People are allowed to go to work, to shop, and to run errands, provided it is for an "essential purpose," which you must prove "by means of a self-declaration which can be made on pre-printed forms already supplied to the state and local police forces. The veracity of the self-declarations will be subject to subsequent checks and the non-veracity constitutes a crime."

Business travelers are permitted to enter and leave the country, cab, delivery and freight drivers are allowed to do their jobs, and "outdoor motor activity is allowed as long as not in a group."

Public offices are open. Training activities are suspended. Government offices need to provide hand santizer, but if they run out, they have to stay open ("disinfectant is a precautionary measure but itstemporary unavailability does not justify the closure of the office").

Bars, pubs and restaurants may open from 6AM to 6PM, but have to cancel live music, games and screening events. Theaters, cinemas and museums are closed.

Schools are closed. Universities are closed. Exams and graduations will be conducted by video-link. Med schools are not closed. Research institutions are not closed.

Masses and funerals are canceled. Islamic Friday prayers are canceled.

Farms are open.

Scam-buster hacks into a scam-factory (permalink)

Jim Browning is a talented and prolific scambaiter. He calls the numbers listed in pop-up tech support scams and has the scammers log into a specially prepared system that lets him trace them.

In his latest adventure, Browning thoroughly turns the tables on http://Faremart.com , a Delhi travel agency that was the front for a sprawling network of tech-support scammers taking in millions every year through fraud.

Browning not only traces the scammers: he breaks into their unsecured CCTV network so he can watch them work. He compromises their phone system and listens to the recordings of all their scam-sessions.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=le71yVPh4uk

He gets hold of their ledgers, which list how much money each scam nets for the gang. He doxes the scammers and learns their real names. He gets a confederate to fly a drone over their HQ and maps out their comings and going.

In part II, Browning treats us to a delightful scambaiting session in which he mercilessly trolls a scammer who claims to be in San Jose, CA, tripping him up in a series of ever-more-desperate lies.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uV-qa9M-o4E

It's part of a growing genre of journalists who explore and document the operations of overseas scam operations. See, for example, Reply All's excellent podcasts on this:

https://gimletmedia.com/shows/reply-all/6nh3wk https://gimletmedia.com/shows/reply-all/76h5gl

There are two more parts to come in Browning's series (you can watch them now on his Patreon, apparently):

https://www.patreon.com/JimBrowning

He also turned his footage over to the BBC's flagship investigative programme, Panorama, which has produced its own doc based on it:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7rmvhwwiQAY

Postmortem: the catastrophic EU Copyright Directive (postmortem)

Yesterday, the Senate Subcommittee on Intellectual Property held hearings on "Copyright Law in Foreign Jurisdictions," at which two key copyright experts testified on last year's catastrophic EU Copyright Directive.

First up was Pam Samuelson, one of America's leading copyright experts, who explained in eye-watering detail how the compromises made to pass the Copyright Directive produced an incoherent mess that no one can figure out how to implement in law.

https://www.judiciary.senate.gov/imo/media/doc/Samuelson%20Testimony.pdf

Next was Julia Reda, who served in the EU Parliament during the passage of the directive and helped spearhead the opposition to it.

Her testimony really shows you where the bodies were buried: how the EU knew it was making a pig's ear out of things.

https://www.judiciary.senate.gov/imo/media/doc/Reda%20Testimony.pdf

Both are essential reading for anyone striving to understand Article 17 (formerly Article 13) – it is such a tangle of garbage lawmaking that these kinds of guides are indispensable.

Podcast: A Lever Without a Fulcrum Is Just a Stick (permalink)

I've just posted my latest podcast: a reading of my new Locus Magazine column, "A Lever Without a Fulcrum Is Just a Stick," on how copyright failed artists and enriched corporations and what we can do about it.

https://craphound.com/podcast/2020/03/11/a-lever-without-a-fulcrum-is-just-a-stick-2/

Tldr: Giving monopolies to artists doesn't help them gain leverage over the super-concentrated entertainment industry, because the corporations control access to audiences and force artists to sign away those monopolies to get past their gatekeeping.

The more monopolies we give artists, the more monopolies are transfered to corporations, and the more they dominate the market and thus the more they can retain from the earnings generated by the artists' works.

Fights like the EU Copyright Directive are a distraction, a fight over shifting some points from Big Tech's balance sheet to Big Content's – but without any mechanism to move more of that revenue to creators.

Enriching creators means thinking beyond more "monopoly"-style copyright: instead, we have to think about inalienable rights that can be taken away through one-sided contracts (like the "reversion right" that lets US artists take back copyrights after 35 years).

And we have to think beyond copyright itself, by beefing up competition laws to break up entertainment cartels, and by beefing up labor laws to let artists form unions.

There is a role for copyright, but in things like extended collective licensing that would allow all online platforms to access the same catalog and pay for it based on the number of users they have, so a new platform pays pennies while Youtube pays hundreds of millions.

These blanket licenses have been key to keeping other forums for artistic revenues open: think of what the world would be like if one club or radio station could buy the exclusive rights to play the hits of the day, and then use their ensuring dominance to squeeze artists.

If you prefer the written work, you can read the column here for yourself, of course:

https://locusmag.com/2020/03/cory-doctorow-a-lever-without-a-fulcrum-is-just-a-stick/

Here's a direct link to the MP3 of the reading (thanks as always to Internet Archive for hosting – they'll host you too, for free!):

https://archive.org/download/Cory_Doctorow_Podcast_330/Cory_Doctorow_Podcast_330_-_A_Lever_Without_a_Fulcrum_Is_Just_a_Stick.mp3

And here's the RSS for my podcast:

http://feeds.feedburner.com/doctorow_podcast

Now in its 14th year (Thanks to Mark Pesce for convincing me to start it)!

This day in history (permalink)

#10yrsago London Olympics: police powers to force spectators to remove non-sponsor items, enter houses, take posters http://uk.news.yahoo.com/22/20100303/tts-uk-olympics-london-ca02f96.html

#10yrsago Leaked documents: UK record industry wrote web-censorship amendment https://www.openrightsgroup.org/blog/2010/bpi-drafted-web-blocking

#5yrsago Piketty on the pointless cruelty of European austerity https://www.spiegel.de/international/europe/thomas-piketty-interview-about-the-european-financial-crisis-a-1022629.html

#5yrsago Rightscorp loses big on extortion racket https://torrentfreak.com/rightscorp-hemorrhages-cash-profit-from-piracy-remains-elusive-150311/

#5yrsago UK foreign secretary: stop talking about Snowden, let spies get on with it https://web.archive.org/web/20150315031642/http://www.theinquirer.net/inquirer/news/2399082/government-minister-is-bored-with-snowden-and-wants-to-get-on-with-surveillance

#1yrago Defect in car security system aids carjackers, thieves https://www.pentestpartners.com/security-blog/gone-in-six-seconds-exploiting-car-alarms/

#1yrago Former Archbishop of Canterbury cheers on students who are walking out to demand action on climate change https://www.theguardian.com/environment/2019/mar/10/rowan-williams-school-pupil-climate-protests

#1yrago Leaked Chinese database of 1.8 million women includes a field indicating whether they are "BreedReady" https://twitter.com/0xDUDE/status/1104482014202351616

#1yrago Why #Article13 inevitably requires filters https://www.communia-association.org/2019/03/05/final-x-ray-article-13-dangerous-legislative-wishful-thinking/

Colophon (permalink)

Today's top sources: Slate Star Codex (https://slatestarcodex.com/), Slashdot (https://slashdot.org), Fipi Lele, Matthew Rimmer (https://twitter.com/DrRimmer).

Hugo nominators! My story "Unauthorized Bread" is eligible in the Novella category and you can read it free on Ars Technica: https://arstechnica.com/gaming/2020/01/unauthorized-bread-a-near-future-tale-of-refugees-and-sinister-iot-appliances/

Upcoming appearances:

Museums and the Web: March 31-April 4 2020, Los Angeles. https://mw20.museweb.net/

Currently writing: I'm rewriting a short story, "The Canadian Miracle," for MIT Tech Review. It's a story set in the world of my next novel, "The Lost Cause," a post-GND novel about truth and reconciliation. I'm also working on "Baby Twitter," a piece of design fiction also set in The Lost Cause's prehistory, for a British think-tank. I'm getting geared up to start work on the novel afterwards.

Currently reading: Just started Lauren Beukes's forthcoming Afterland: it's Y the Last Man plus plus, and two chapters in, it's amazeballs. Last month, I finished Andrea Bernstein's "American Oligarchs"; it's a magnificent history of the Kushner and Trump families, showing how they cheated, stole and lied their way into power. I'm getting really into Anna Weiner's memoir about tech, "Uncanny Valley." I just loaded Matt Stoller's "Goliath" onto my underwater MP3 player and I'm listening to it as I swim laps.

Latest podcast: A Lever Without a Fulcrum Is Just a Stick https://archive.org/download/Cory_Doctorow_Podcast_330/Cory_Doctorow_Podcast_330_-_A_Lever_Without_a_Fulcrum_Is_Just_a_Stick.mp3

Upcoming books: "Poesy the Monster Slayer" (Jul 2020), a picture book about monsters, bedtime, gender, and kicking ass. Pre-order here: https://us.macmillan.com/books/9781626723627?utm_source=socialmedia&utm_medium=socialpost&utm_term=na-poesycorypreorder&utm_content=na-preorder-buynow&utm_campaign=9781626723627

(we're having a launch for it in Burbank on July 11 at Dark Delicacies and you can get me AND Poesy to sign it and Dark Del will ship it to the monster kids in your life in time for the release date).

"Attack Surface": The third Little Brother book, Oct 20, 2020.

"Little Brother/Homeland": A reissue omnibus edition with a very special, s00per s33kr1t intro.

#pluralistic

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emptymasks · 5 years ago

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sleep comfort for both of you // illinois x reader

So How About That Date? ( A Heist With Markiplier x Reader Collection [SFW])

Pairing: Illinois / Gender-Neutral Reader

Words: 1446

Rating: General Audiences

Read on Ao3

Notes (more notes at the end): credit and thank yous to people in the @yancy-support-group discord server (come and join us) for giving me lots of inspiration for this

Sleep sometimes felt like your worst enemy.

You'd just be laying there at the end of the day all ready to rest and your body would just say no, no sleep for you. No matter how busy or active you had been that day, sleep just wouldn't happen. You'd just lay there staring at the ceiling, tossing and turning in the hope your body would find a position it liked. Laying there for who knows how long and checking the clock to realise you'd been awake for hours at that point. You could often tell when it was going to happen after about the first five minutes of laying down. You couldn't really explain it, but even if you were tired you could feel when your body and brain were just not going to accept sleep that night.

And then on the nights where insomnia wasn't holding you hostage, you'd find yourself kept away by noises and rocks digging into your back in forest shelters and caves and deserts as you stuck by Illinois side. You'd be trying to get to sleep but the slightest wind or dripping or water could keep you awake.

Not Illinois though, that man could sleep anywhere. You supposed he was used to it by now after being on so many adventures and journeys and having to sleep in all sorts of conditions and weathers and climates. He wasn't a heavy sleeper though. Though you were incredibly easily disturbed whilst trying to fall asleep, not everything woke you up once you were actually asleep. It was probably for the best Illinois wasn't a very heavy sleeper as on more than one occasion you'd been awoken by him dragging you awake (and one time giving up and you woke up slung over his shoulders) as the cave ceiling decided it didn't like you anymore and started to rain in on you both.

So he wasn't a particularly heavy sleeper, but he could fall asleep in the tightest and most uncomfortable places, which is why it was such a surprise after laying inside in your nice, warm bed with him, it had been over an hour and you knew he still wasn't asleep. Of course he hadn't said anything, he liked acting all self-sufficient and independent. It had been wonderful to watch that act fade as he got more comfortable around you and you started spending more time together and for you to realise that deep down he's soft and does care (though he still has that bravado). He's just lost so many partners he tries to push people away nonchalantly so that there's no risk of anyone else getting hurt. But you made it clear you were staying and there's no way he could get rid of you now.

You rolled off your back and onto your side to face him. He didn't move, just kept laying there with his eyes closed. You knew he was awake, his body was too tense and rigid.

"Ow," His eyes shot open as you jabbed him in the waist. He blinked up at you while you glared down at him. "Alright darlin', you caught me. I'm not keeping you awake, am I?"

"Only thing that's keeping me awake is my stupid brain. But what's keeping you awake, huh? I've never seen you having problems falling asleep. You know if you're worried about anything you can tell me."

He smiled at how earnest you were being. "It's nothing, you just try and sleep."

"It's not nothing. If you're going to lecture me about how sleep is necessary then I'll fling that right back at you."

You stayed staring at him, eyes locked as if he was challenging you to drop it. He sighed.

"It's nothing, alright. I suppose I'm just not used to all this. I'm so used to sleeping outside I hadn't realised how quiet things can get indoors. The bed's softer than what I'm used to, but it's not too bad. It's the silence I think. It's like it's just itching under my skin. But don't you worry your pretty little head about it, you can get enough beauty sleep for the two of us." And of course he winked at the end.

"Hardly," You scoffed. "I don't think I'm doing any sleeping tonight. I'd offer to open the window to help if it wasn't freezing outside."

"Now you don't have to do that on account of me. Why don't you just lie back down next to my big, strong, warm body," You laugh and drop your head onto his shoulder. "And you can at least get yourself some rest."

It was a shame you couldn't open the window though. It might help him to at least be able to hear some sounds of wind or nature or... You felt like an idiot, why didn't you think about this before?

"Now where do you think you're scampering off too?" Illinois questioned as you crawled away from him and grabbed your phone from your bedside table. "You know those things don't help you sleep right? Those screens aren't any good for you."

You ignored his complaints as you broughtup Youtube on your phone. "We're not going to be looking at it, we're going to listen to it. Sometimes when I can't sleep and I'm on my own I play ASMR videos, whether it's someone talking or often just soundscapes and sound effects. The noise helps my brain focus on something that isn't my biggest worries and fears creeping into my head at the worst possible time, you know. So, I thought, there's lots of videos of forest sounds and cave sounds and nature sounds... all sorts of sounds really, and we could play one and maybe it would help?"

His brows furrowed and he looked confused for a moment before pondering whether to trust your phone.

"I'll put it face down on the table so they'll be no light and no looking at the screen," You said trying to convince him.

"Alright, if you think if might help. Can't hurt, I suppose."

You tried and not look too excited as you pulled up a video of cave sounds (water droplet effects and wind and ambience) and reached back over to put your phone back on the table, turning the volume up so he could hear it from the other side of the bed.

You laid back on your side, facing him, watching and studying him as he closed his eyes again. Ever so slowly his body started to relax into the mattress.

"So maybe your phone isn't completely evil."

"It's helping?!" You forced your voice quieter as you were too excited to be able to be helping him.

"Yeah, sapphire, it's helping," He murmured and you blushed at the pet name.

He seemed fine for a while before he began shuffling a little.

"Do you mind if I..." He glanced down at where his hand now was, stretched outwards towards you and hovering next to your own. "I just want to... know you're still here..."

Your heart ached. You were slowly working out how touch-starved he was and how long it had been for him since he'd last experienced physical affection. "Of course."

He slowly intertwined his fingers with yours, pulling your arm over his stomach as he settled your joined hands there. You nuzzled into his shoulder. His thumb stroked over the back of your hand and he chuckled.

"It's adorable how you're smaller than me," You looked up and he was just staring at your joined hands with the goofiest, softest grin on his face and he sighed and he just looked fucking dreamy and you could have sworn he was blushing.

You moved to place a kiss along his jaw. "Well we can't all have 'big, strong hands' like you," You lowered your voice in some poor attempted at imitating him and you both laughed. "I'm glad though..." You muttered. "That you're fine with me and all."

"Darlin' I am so much more than 'fine' with you, you know that."

"Yeah, I know."

"And it is helping, it seems to be at least. The noise and you, holding your hand like this... sort of embarrassing to say, but of course Illinois doesn't get embarrassed by anything, but... it's nice, grounding even."

"We should do this more often then," You said around a yawn that broke out of your mouth mid-sentence.

"We should... But for now, sleep, for both of us."

You mumbled some form of agreement into his shoulder. "G'night Illy." He would groan and complain about that nickname, but he'd never actually asked you to stop using it.

"Good night, sweetheart."

Tag list: @thehalfdemonwitchfromamestris @rats-this-username-is-taken @hamiltrash1411�� @line-viper (let me know if you’d like to be added to the tag list for my ahwm fics)

More notes: credit and thank yous to people in the yancy-support-group discord server (come and join us) for giving me lots of inspiration for this:(a collection of messages I took inspiration from)

Starship: Illinois: .....i didn't know you where this strong sapphire

Tinam: but Illinois exclusively using gemstones names as petnames with Y/N

Mars: Does Illinois hold Y/N's hand when he sleeps? I feel he'd do Illi loves that Y/N has smaller hands than him. He'll just be a blushing mess because "holy????? fuck??????? Whenever they hold hands he just has the biggest fucking heart eyes, the goofiest grin and can't stop sighingthank you all for saying it was okay for me to take these ideas and be inspired by them and write things based on them

i know it's been a little while, but my mental health took a dive but now i'm working on getting myself better.

huge thank you to everyone who's been leaving comments and kudos and requests, it means a lot.

big thanks to starship in the yancy-support-group discord server for giving me most of my inspiration for this, more on that in the notes at the top of this chapter.

and if you guys could please help me out and and reblog this promo post for the heist charms, stickers and pins i'm making and selling that would mean the world! there's also the link in there to my Etsy shop where you can buy them

also if you want to see the heist art i keep drawing you can follow me on instagram and twitter

#ahwm #ahwm spoilers #ahwm illinois #illinois x reader #a heist with markiplier #mywriting #mine #so how about that date #markiplier egos

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tender-history · 5 years ago

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Fic Plotting 101: How I Start from an Idea.

Hullo, hi, welcome! It’s Plotting 101 with Dee: Part One!

Before we get started, here’s why I made this post:

1) I get a lot of CCs asking how to approach plotting, pacing and especially story flow, and I wanted to link them all to something useful,

2) I see a lot of people wanting to write plot but unsure how to approach it because it can be overwhelming,

3) Google Searching ‘how to plot’ can be EXTREMELY scary.

Let’s take Number 3 first. If you’re going to Google ‘how to plot’, you’re going to end up with advice on everything ranging from ‘don’t plot’ to six sheet spreadsheets with fifty columns each that wants you to put down everything from your character’s eye color to what exactly they think of instant noodles. You’ll end up with diagrams, beat sheets, templates, storyboards, and find guides that range from six-step plotting techniques to fifty-steps. And I’m not saying you shouldn’t follow that method - sometimes, if you’re a person who likes character design and questionnaires a lot, you’ll love that method. But I’m not like that, and a lot of writers I know aren’t like that either. There’s nothing I hate more than some spreadsheet asking me my character’s weight and height. And if you go down that road, chances are that you’ll just go down the rabbit hole of intricately designing your characters and settings for AGES instead of actually writing anything at all.

So - if not through spreadsheets or beat-sheets, how DO you plot?

If you ask me, the best plotting method is to do WHAT WORKS FOR YOU.

How do you find what works for you? You try things. I tried many different ways of plotting before I decided what worked for me. So this is going to be less a guide on how to plot and more an explanation of the ways I plot, with the hope that maybe you can find something in here to help you.

> For me, step ONE is the IDEA.

This is your big shiny nugget. Your driving force. This is EXTREMELY important, because no one idea is equal to another. Some ideas are better, because they can help you do something unique, something only you can do, which makes you stand out. For the sake of demonstrating this whole thing, let’s take The Tender History of Tides. Tender History lived on my Ideas folder in my Notes app for months before I began writing it. This was my one-line quick jot-down: ‘what if I wrote non-royalty historical fantasy set in Joseon Korea?’

Done before? Yeah. Can be done in a unique way? Heck yeah.

Your idea is very very important because it’s the axis on which you’ll pivot your entire plot. It’ll grow and develop and change if you just give it some thought.

So, plotting suggestion #1 right here: Keep an Ideas folder. You WILL forget your idea, however shiny it is. Keeping it all in one place helps in more than one way: 1) You know it won’t disappear from your mind, 2) Sometimes ideas can overlap, come together, and turn into a whole new story.

For Tender History, the historical fantasy set in Joseon Korea idea very, very quickly merged with another idea I’d had: taegi dark-fic with sea-monster Tae and monster-hunter Yoongi. They were disparate thoughts, things I thought of at different times, things I then put together to create something more unique than what they would have been individually.

I often generate ideas this way. I’ll consult my Ideas folder for thoughts I’ve had in the past, then see if they can be combined with something else to make a better shiny.

Few examples:

1) vhope magic shop au + but what if the whole thing is set in a game arcade?

2) taegi vampire au + but what if this was set in the fashion world?

3) vmin library au + but what if they went to a magical school?

Combination is one way of idea generation. Other ways of idea generation that I sometimes use:

> Use images. Go on Pinterest, check out some aesthetics, let your imagination run wild.

> Use online prompters. There are so many prompt generators floating around! For Fantasy, I use Seventh Sanctum sometimes (they have hundreds of different sort of prompt generators, and some are really good if you’re stuck on banal things like naming, or a quick character design). For fan fiction, there are prompt bots on Twitter. You can even google writing prompts, there are several websites that offer one per day, which you can then use to kick start your imagination.

> Now you have your idea. Step TWO, for me, is developing the idea.

This is the step where you can really stand out in the crowd when it comes to plotting. It’s great having a unique idea, but this is the part where you flesh it out.

Here’s how I do that:

> Scribble down a skeleton of what you think the story will be: In my case, for this Taegi fic, the skeleton looked something like this:

taegi, yoongi is a detective, tae is a supernatural being of some sort, setting is joseon korea, time period is (???), wintry, monsters and murders, dark, atmospheric, there’s a romance and it’s both soft and dangerous, side: noble seokjin, scholar namjoon, doctor jimin (?). they’re in a village and there are these murders and everyone is keeping secrets.

This, as you see, is a ramble. It’s just whatever’s in my head, being committed to paper. Now, plotting is WORK. Putting what’s up there - that ramble, that mess of ideas - into a functioning, well-paced, structured, organized plot requires you to put work into it. It’s not easy. But it’s a lot of fun. And when it starts coming together, you really feel very good about your writing and your story!

So, moving on to the actual work now:

> Write a 250 word pitch of the story. Organize your ramble into something coherent, meaningful and easy to absorb. Imagine that this is exactly like the back blurb on a book. The back blurb on a book is meant to entice you to read it. IF it’s enticing enough for you to read, then you can imagine that it might be enticing to a reader. But first - you have to make it enticing for YOU. As the writer, YOU have to feel like, ok, this is gonna be a killer story if I tackle it.

The objective of this pitch is two-fold:

1) You have to be able to tell three things from it: the idea, the characters, and the main conflict.

2) A complete STRANGER - i.e., someone who has no idea about your story - should be able to look at this pitch and tell what exactly the story is about.

I can’t stress the importance of this step. Often times, it’s not until you force yourself to explain your plot in 250 words that you find possible issues with it.

Here’s how I explained Tender History in 250 words or less:

“In late 1700s Joseon Korea, a string of strange murders sends Inspector Kim Seokjin to a frozen northern province. Accompanying him is Min Yoongi, once a scholar of the supernatural, now an indentured laborer until a debt for his crimes against the palace can be paid. Quickly taking on eccentric artist Kim Taehyung as his assistant, Yoongi sets out to find the monster that’s terrorizing the land. But there’s more to both the icy lakes and the people here. More to Taehyung and his unflinching ease at drawing scenes of death. Yoongi just needs to figure out what.”

Note a couple of things here.

A) You as the writer knows who the important characters are, because they are named.

B) You know the setting: 1700s, Joseon Korea, icy, winter.

C) You know the characterization and how they play into this world: inspector Seokjin, indentured worker Yoongi, artist Taehyung.

D) You know the conflict: murders, monsters, secrets.

E) You ALSO, if you look deeply enough, know the inner character conflict - Yoongi has debts, he has no free will until he pays them.

If I show this to you, a stranger, you should ALSO be able to glean these basic details from this 250 word pitch.

It’s not easy. It just looks easy. I spent hours putting this down in a way that was completely right: precise, simple, yet very explanatory. This pitch will force you to confront what is the story, its actual plot and actual characters, and what is only set dressing. You can’t ramble about it anymore for hours. You can’t have a bunch of disconnected ideas anymore. You HAVE to fit it into something concise, something easily absorbed - not just by you, but by a reader who can’t see into your mind.

You will also know, by putting this down, if the characters aren’t developed enough inside your head. Because why would anyone go to a wintry frozen land to catch a monster? You can’t answer that unless you know, by forcing your thoughts into coherency, that oh, Yoongi has no real free-will here.

> Step THREE, marry external and internal conflict.

Or this is step 1.5, actually. You cannot plot a story without both external and internal conflict. Or, you can, but then you won’t touch your readers as much as you would want to.

What do I mean by this?

Your external conflict is something that exists outside of your characters - your regular villain, say. This is your Darth Vader, your Voldemort, your Capitol.

Your internal conflict is what your character feels. This is HARDER. In Hunger Games, Katniss ponders and combats her own ruthlessness. In Harry Potter, Harry’s desire to fit into the world and live a normal life continuously contrasts with his own fame and the symbol of hope he becomes.

In Tender History, my external conflict is very fancy: murder, monsters, scary villages, etc. Internal conflict is a lot less so: Yoongi in this fic continuously has to wrestle with feelings of guilt and unfairness, with wanting to do good but feeling too burned by the system. If you’ve read Murmuration, the external conflict is the Scarab, but the internal conflict is their own ambition, their guilt over what they had to do to survive, their (terrifying) loyalty to each other.

Internal conflict is where you find your character voice. If I’d set Tender History Yoongi in a celebrated position at his job, he’d be a much different character. His voice would be much different. He has power! He has resources! Versus this Yoongi, who has nothing, and hence has to trust the people he’s allowed to work with to tell him the truth.

Think of it like peeling the layers:

1) The Idea,

2) Develop the Idea,

3) Fill in the External Conflict,

4) Fill in the Internal Conflict.

I have a few major rules I follow at this point of plotting. They’re like this:

1) Are these the right characters for my story? - This means I do a round of thinking about whether these people are the perfect vehicle to tell this story I want to tell. Great, I want to tell a story about wintry Joseon Korea, and monster-fighting. But. Is indentured-worker Yoongi the best person to carry this? What if I make him a village leader instead? What if he’s a runaway prince? What if he’s the monster? Depending on what you want your story to be, you have to think of your character to fit the telling. In Romance of Old Clothes, I chose Tae POV for the whole thing because I wanted to illustrate his reading of people vs. other people’s reading of him. Taehyung’s internal conflict in that fic was that he lies to himself extensively. He’s got this idea of who he is, which is untrue, which is then broken down in a climactic moment. He’s my perfect character to tell that story, because of his obliviousness. Similarly, in Tender History, Yoongi’s the perfect character to tell this story, because of who he is in society, his internal troubles, and his monster-hunting experience.

2)What are some details I would add to this world? - I have a basic idea of the conflict, the world, and the characters now. This is where I take out a chart or a notebook and get to work. I do this like a mindmap: I jot down anything I can think of - say, okay, Joseon Korea: food, art, paintings, caste system, civil examinations, scholars, winter, roads, Confucianism, shrines, religion, music, monsters, gender roles. Then I begin detailing it. ‘Food’ for example: royals eat different food from commoners eat different food from untouchable castes or peasants. Summer food is different from spring food is different from winter food. When I read about food for this fic, I read about the ‘barley gap’ or the gap between barley and rice cultivation during winter. People historically starved during this time. If my story is set in winter, this is an important detail.

Let’s take something more contemporary. I’m writing about a vintage clothes store. Details I would need - clothes, brands, size of the shop, layout of the shop, how do they procure clothes, how do they test authenticity, what are their customers like, who do they interact with, where is their shop in the city, what does being in that locality mean, what seasons are busy for them.

A mindmap is just a page full of words, questions, things you know, things you don’t know. Filling it up is the next major step.

3) What is character development going to be? - This is very important. Okay, you have an external and internal conflict. Now, start of the story being point A, and end being point B, what exactly is A and B for my character? What do I want them to become? In Romance of Old Clothes, Taehyung at Point A is lying to himself about his own nature. By Point B, he’s able to identify that he needs to let people in, open up more. In Wonder Woman, Diana at the beginning of the story is rather naive, believing that if only she could destroy the God of War, the whole war will end. By the end, she understands and admits that things are not that black and white - that people sometimes fight wars because they want to, not due to some external influence.

You have to know this to continue.

Step 4, in how I plot, is to put down a starting scene, a few story beats, and the rough idea of an ending.

But I’ll get into that - and more, including pacing - in Series 2 of this series of posts! Please let me know here or on twitter if these are helpful, or if I’m just rambling too much.

Since I am now struggling a lot to balance writing with work, and if you want to help me keep on writing posts like this, please consider donating to my ko-fi.

I also made a post on how I world-build, the tools and templates I use for the same: it’s over here!

https://tender-history.tumblr.com/post/185910085044/on-research-worldbuilding-and-culture

#writing #world-building #bts fanfiction #bts fanfic #mine #.research #.resources

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