#note: I never ended up properly publishing it. But that was what I was gonna do

[s0fti3w1tch]

SO APPARENTLY MY TWIN SAVED THE FANFIC I WROTE 8-ISH YEARS AGO??? AFTER I THOUGHT HE DIDN'T OPEN IT???

We're 20 years old in a couple months. He really dragged this beast from from our preteen years across to now.

I'm never gonna recover.

[musicfeedsmysoul12]

hori constantly acts as if he isn’t the writer and has full control of the story and it pisses me off to no end. gonna drop some examples below. these are from the street wear profiles from the manga.

sen kaibara - “I love his Quirk, so I can’t wait to portray it more.” he’s acting like something/someone is actively holding him back from doing so.

tetsutetsu tetsutetsu - “I hope I get to show him in action more.” once again, acting like something is stopping him. side note, why tf did he give him that name. it’s just so lazy. and it’s not even funny. just annoying to say and annoying to write.

hanta sero - “He’s mostly just for one liners in the background, but he’s a good guy, and I’d like to feature him more. At some point. For sure.” and then proceeds to never do that.

this might just be me being bitter abt all the amazing characters he’s completely disregarded and disrespected. this might just be me not understanding what it’s like being a mangaka. but it still bothers me.

i just hate how he’s created this insanely interesting world and amazing characters and never expands on anything bc he’s too busy sucking bakugos dick.

speaking of bakugo, as someone who has narcissistic tendencies, he’s a textbook case.

he obviously has some sort of inferiority/superiority complex and a mild to severe case of a god complex. at best he’s dismissive of people who he sees as inferior to him, at worst he’s downright cruel.

his “nicknames” are all just fucking insults aimed at peoples insecurities.

raccoon eyes/horns: mina was probably bullied for her appearance and then her so called “friend” exclusively calls her names that poke fun at her appearance.

bird brain/bird face/other bird names: tokoyami has probably heard it all at this point but once again bakugo making fun of heteromorphs.

dunce face: denki has shown to be insecure about his intelligence and once again his so called “friend” mocks him for it.

tentacles/arms/octopus: again, mocking heteromorphs.

tail: i’m beginning to see a pattern here.

ears: ok how has no one pointed out how most of his nicknames are him basically just calling them slurs.

i don’t think bakugo has ever called someone their actual name. maybe a handful of times? but it’s like a massive event when he calls someone by their actual name.

exclusive calling people insults isn’t exactly heroic.

anyway rant over i just needed to get all this shit off my chest.

No, no honey, go the fuck off.

I will say as a writer, I have experience with 'my characters have a mind of their own' and that through writing our plans have to change because the characters adapt more, but I will also say that Hori dropped the ball BIG TIME.

I am firmly of the belief that he had to have been pushed into making some choices by the publishing company because like... dude! You have so much cool stuff and you focus on Bakugou? The 'rich kid with superiority/inferority issues' you find in every drama?

All the insults is just another tick in the 'let's be honest no one would like this guy in real life' column, and it is so fucking funny to me that people try to romantisize that shit. Hell, look what everyone does to the name Deku.

'Oh he couldn't read it properly'

Did you watch or read the manga? Cause he did, and realized that it could also mean this.

'He called Izuku Zuku before'

No.

'It was after-'

Nope, before the diagnosis, also the fact people try to use it to excuse it is fucked up. It would be like calling me the r word for my autism as a 'fun nickname'.

(I will say I know people with the same first and last name in real life. Some own it, some go by a middle name. I think it's funny that his name is Tetsutetsu Tetsutetsu)

I saw someone say Bakugou has face blindness but even then you're right. Why the fuck is he making those jokes? He's like that white friend who makes racist jokes you ignore but will say someone is being sensitive when he gets called out.

Bakugou is just... ugh. He's so boring. My anger towards him has become: you're just a dull little man.

[buthowboutno]

buthowboutno's Unsolicited Writing Advice

Howdy fam!!

This is a post that i’ve been wanting to make for a while so!!! Finally fucking sat down and did it lmao

Considering we’re past the halfway point of ATWLP and over 125k words written for the universe, I thought I would share some writing advice and tidbits I’ve picked up along the way!! (especially for you baby writers out there) (we’re ignoring the fact that I only broke my five year writing hiatus like seven months ago)

ANYWAYS, ramble under the cut <3

--

Don’t force yourself to write linearly

If you’re dragging your feet along writing sections just to get to a certain scene in your head and losing motivation, just… write the scene you wanna write. This might be specific adhd oriented advice, but you gotta use your juices when you have them. 

I’ve recently posted a chapter that I wrote all the way back in November. Did I have to edit some parts in light of changes I made to the outline and the way my blorbos have developed? Yes, but that’s way easier than starting it from scratch and losing all of my ideas when the scene was first bouncing around my head.

Outline outline outline… but don’t be a slave to it

Sometimes all I can manage the energy for is a long series of bullet points outlining a chapter, but it makes it SO much easier to sit down and type everything out properly later.

I also find that having a main outline for my entire story helps me from falling into plotlines that I don't know how to get out of or losing motivation for a fic because I haven't figured out the end goal for my characters. It's easy to sit down and work on a chapter because, for the most part, I already know how it's going to end up.

Having said that, sometimes your characters are stinkasses and decide to completely break away from what you had planned, and that’s okay! Understanding how you can and cannot shove your blorbos around for the sake of plot is a part of learning how to be a better writer.

Don’t delete your writing!

Chances are if you hate a section, it’ll read a million times better after you set it down for a few hours. Us writers can be so incredibly critical of ourselves, but resist the urge to select all and backspace!!! If anything, leaving a section you hate allows you to come back and edit it into something way better instead of starting from scratch again.

If you have to delete a section that just doesn’t fit in the story anymore, still save it!! I have a bits and pieces doc that houses all my deleted scenes that have been revived in later chapters. You never know how deleted scenes might help you pad out future parts of your story.

If you’re a literature snob (like me) and want to just flat out improve your craft… you gotta do your homework

You will always become a better writer the more you write and for those just looking to get out some emotions or have fun, that is perfectly fine! Ignore me! You’re already doing fantastic, look at you go!

But if you’re the type of person to read a fic and be like… “wow, that was better quality than most published books. how do i get to that level??” this is for you

When you’re reading, regardless of what it is, make a mental (or physical!) note of the things you like and dislike.

 Ex: How does the author portray a certain emotion? How do they lay out the scene? What different aspects of characterization stick out to you? What’s the word choice like?

Never gonna bash on anyone who just wants to read for enjoyment, but when you start to exercise that muscle I /promise/ you that your writing will improve that much faster. (It really is annoying how the fucking rhetorical analysis skills they teach you in highschool help, but they do.)

Ages ago I went to this conference for young writers and in one of the seminars I went to, this pair of authors talked about this spreadsheet they set up to better lay out the aspects of writing they really loved or wanted to avoid in their genre. I think this is vv important when you’re planning out longer pieces of writing; you don’t want to get stuck in a trope you hate!

Watch critiques of books!

Booktube is super fucking great for this. I’m personally a video essay bitch, so I’ll sit and watch a three hour long video of someone dissecting a novel and giving a review. That shit will help you with everything from learning how to construct longer and cohesive plots to avoiding certain pitfalls that may turn an audience away from your work. 

Rachel Oates is one of my forever faves and Alizee is a youtuber that I’ve just recently stumbled upon but love all the same.

 I WILL SING THE PRAISES OF OVERLYSARCASTICPRODUCTIONS ALL DAY EVERY DAY.

They have really excellent videos that go into the different tropes and all the ways they can present in stories, whether it be good or bad. This helps you get familiar with the building blocks of a narrative and decide things like wanting to subvert a trope, build upon the popular ones, or even reject them all together. Fic is basically built on fandom-wide tropes, so I think it’s good to be familiar with them.

Just like artists, we gotta do our studies, too

Back when I was a infant writer (i.e. in eighth grade) me and my friends would find different writing prompts on pinterest and spend a few hours working on them before sharing what we wrote. Even if it's not for a larger work, it is /really/ good practice to describe scenery in a picture or come up with a character on the fly and explore how they interact in a situation.

It’s is the literary equivalent of drawing a hand instead of putting it in a pocket so you didn’t have to deal with it

Write messy! Write fast! Write garbage that you’re going to delete in five minutes! You’ll be surprised about the gems that come out of doing this. Literally some of my favourite lines have come out of a frenzied 10 minute keyboard mashing session.

Don’t be afraid of critique but know the difference between that and simply being hard on yourself.

 I think this is probably the biggest thing I’ve struggled with as I’ve gotten back into writing. Before I started posting, I had about five chapters saved up ‘cause I was agonising over making everything perfect. Do I see, six months later, things I know I could have done better? Yes, but! I wouldn’t have been able to grow or develop as an author if I didn’t take that first step of posting and moving on to other parts of the story.

There is a time and place for critiquing and editing your own work and seeing where you can improve, but you also gotta meet yourself where you’re at. We’re not going to be Shakespeare overnight. Getting better is a process, baby! Embrace the fact that if you’re embarrassed about your work years or even months down the line, that means you’re growing as a writer.

And remember stinkies, any creation is good creation. Don’t go comparing hits or kudos or likes and being down on yourself, the act of creation is an important part of the human experience!!! Even if the only thing you ever put out is a 100 word drabble about lightning mcqueen making love to bowser, i’ll be proud of you. 

Happy writing and get yourself some water <3<3

[tenrose]

I gave up, the website is too shitty, literally nothing functions. Idk if the payment really failed or if those suckers are just not able to properly write 'it's sold out'

Now that I'm slightly annoyed...

I'm gonna rant.

First of all theaters can go fuck themselves if they are not able to provide proper services. The cinema I'm talking about in particular is not indie by the way, it's one of the biggest chains here (fuck you UGC) so the bare minimum they could do is provide with actual functional website so people can actually use it and make reservations. Don't even get me started on the price. 11,60€ for me to fucking go out and see people???? And we know seats aren't as good as they used to be in the past. Don't know about the snack prices, I bet it costs two kidneys.

That being said...

FUCK STREAMING PLATFORMS TOO OR EVEN ESPECIALLY

obviously I ain't paying for any. I won't pay for 10 different platforms, and especially not Amazon they can literally rot in hell. Don't even get me started on netflix. I used to pay sometimes back then. Honestly they had something. They used to do an actual effort and trying to show different stuff. They let creative direction to their writers. We wouldn't never have sense8 with today mentality tbh. Everything is just a reboot, a book adaptation emptied from its substance, a reboot, and book adaptation a reboot, a book a- you see the thing. I mean I shouldn't be bitching as pretty much never watch anything new for years so what do I know? I mean I would like to, but every time I watch a trailer, I'm tired just by watching it. Latest exemple I'm thinking about is the three body problem... Like having read the book just watching the trailer you could see the Americanism all over it... For a chinese book. And it's the problem with everything. I mean American TV shows have always be like this, maybe being younger I wasn't aware back then idk. But it feels so empty, so soulless? They can give me all the diversity they want, that doesn't change that it's still empty. And for TV shows (actually I'm talking more specifically about TV shows cause I'm not a big cinephile so I don't have the legitimacy to criticise) I know it's because of that stupid ass 8 episodes format. I've already talked about it. But it's literally draining the whole industry imo. Also writers clearly having little creative freedom since they have to make stuff that sells. But yeah, TV shows lasted physically and in memories because we were watching them slowly instead of this boulimie stuff we have now. Everything is like consume, forget, consume forget and pay shit ton of money.

And I'm thinking I am actually not built for this shit. I felt so burn out not being able to enjoy anything. So now I don't even try. I don't try new shows cause it's not worth it even when there's an actual good one. Because it's gonna be cancelled anyway. Who wants to emotionally invest in shows that get cancelled (I did so many time).

But when I do.

Be sure I will pirate the shit out of it. None of these industries deserve our money.

To finish on a positive note, if there's one thing I'm really happy for in the end. It's books. Sure the book industry is oversaturated too and there's ton of shit to criticise too (but I won't here). But it's so vast there are books everywhere for everyone, and even if tomorrow not a single book would be published (which I don't believe in), there are enough books for my entire life anyway. But yes books, even if formatted too (looking at us french snobs with our novel format), are like the only place writers can still let go of their creativity. Plus you can have cheap books (I'm starting to get there) and obviously free books thanks to libraries, and also you can pirate books too. Yes I pirate books too but tbh it doesn't even compensate how much I spend buying books so I'm not feeling guilty and I either pirate popular books or old books (if they are really old it's free anyway). But yes if you go out unlike me go buy books if you have money, to your local bookstore, or if you can't library is your way.

Reading is my anchor ⚓

[marianne-dash-wood]

Writing rant for a moment bc I need to vent and Reddit is not helping as I thought it might

We finished. We did it. And I know we still have a long way to go - we can see them, and I'm sure our betas will also pick them up.

But because I'm me, I've been looking at the next steps, after we've made the first draft as good as it can be.

And fuck me.

I want to get it published. Properly published, and not just left to die on Amazon's self publisher list. I want it, because I think this story deserves it - I think the characters deserve it.

But so much of the advice given is for people who are dead serious about writing. A lot of advice is "you might not sell your first manuscript, but it'll help you sell your second!" But we don't have a second. I don't want a second, I want this story out there. I'm not here to be a full time writer - I gave up that dream a long time ago, because I knew it wasn't viable. I just want this one - for us, for these characters, for our baby and a story I wrote with my best friend

And the more I read the more we're up against just... What seems like an insurmountable wall that is traditional publishing.

1) the first book is at least gonna be 120k (at the moment it's 140k, I think with some brutal editing it could go down but is that a good decision? Is it what's best for the story?) which is already Too Long. For a debut novel, most advice I'm seeing is a max 80,000 words. For fantasy, there's a bit more leeway, but it's still around 110,000, which is still a significant difference

2) it's fantasy. It's niche. Yeah people do buy and read fantasy, but it's a niche, competitive market. Does the world really stand out enough against the river of other worlds?

3) it's queer. And not only that, while there is a romance, it's very much secondary to the character friendships AND it's a polyam relationship. It's not easy to market as a "queer romance fantasy!!" Because the romance isn't front and centre at all times. Plus, polyam relationships in trad publishing? Who is going to be willing to push that particular boat out

4) we are two completely untested authors with a fantasy series straight off the bat with a silly many amount of words. It's a huge gamble. Even if the books were masterpieces... Idk who is willing to take that chance, especially when the first book ends on such a down note

If we self publish, it never gets seen by anyone except it's original readers. We aren't social media gurus, we don't have huge followings or connections, and we're both full time in our actual jobs - we can't just go round promoting it at every book fair in the country or go to publishers gigs or whatever. So it'll die, right there, alongside every other self published book.

I know we even haven't gotten to the point of querying and I'm jumping ahead and looking at all the negatives. I know that. I'm just feeling really bummed at having managed to climb a mountain, and seeing an even taller one right ahead.

[hwrryscherry]

The one where Harry and Model Y/N go undercover in the internet

characters: HARRYxMODELY/N

blurb: Harry and Model Y/N go undercover on the internet with fake accounts on TikTok and Instagram for an interview for GQ magazine on a video pre Grammys.

word count: 3.3K

HARRYxMODELY/N masterlist

author's note: HI GUYS! This is a request that I received a while ago but only finished it now because of school and all that stuff that I've told y'all a million times. Anyway, I tried my best on this request cause I think I lost my way of writing a little lol but anyway, I hope you like it and I hope that for the ones who misses Harry and Model Y/N this can be a great gift. Love y'all and thank you for the constant support and love on them💜 Stay Safe and Always remember to tpwk and that you're so golden💜💜💜

It was about 3 pm when you and Harry naturally came into the studio set on the building of GQ magazine with tender smiles on your faces covered by masks as you greeted everybody in the room in which there wasn’t many people in it. Harry was dressed in one of the many Gucci shirts he owned, with freshly washed hair that made you smell his pleasant scent from inches away just because he was wearing your favoured one and you'd always recognize it. You also detected the many rings on his fingers, including the one that you had bought for him as a 27th birthday present and by god, he was so thrilled about the ring and had a big smile on his face all day so he felt like he wanted to use it every day. Oh and how good his birthday was. You weren't able to have a party, obviously, but you still managed to celebrate somehow. In the morning, you gave him his favorite breakfast and then he, Gemma and Anne stayed on a zoom call for about an hour. You bought some yellow balloons to put in the living room just to give that birthday vibe and during the night, you had no more than four friends in your LA house, all properly protected and saved. You just ordered a few pizzas and watched some of Harry's favorite movies. It was simple but with an incredible energy, receiving a tiny group around while doing something y'all liked was everything Harry wanted most, mainly because he would have to wake up early the next day to go to the set of "Don't Worry Darling." as they were about to finish filming.

But today was another day. In earlier Febraury, the GQ magazine team reached out to your businessmen with the proposal that you and Harry would record a video together answering questions about your relationship to be published before the Grammys and after you consider whether it would be the best thing to do or not because of the many reactions you could get from it, you both agreed to do it. You’d always try to consider every little possibility when it comes to your and Harry’s relationship as the media can be very mean and disrepecftul.

Instead of Harry, you had a black miniskirt, long sleeve white blouse and a small black blazer with your Fendi plaid boots, which was Harry's personal choice for today as you’ve told him that he could chose an outfit for you to wear. You two spent a few minutes in the makeup chair doing touch-ups on your hair and makeup right before you were both ready to shoot. You walked from the makeup table to the center of the studio where you could see the crew behind the cameras and the big white background with a table and two black chairs right in the center. The table had a computer upon it only. After sitting down and having the microphones popped at you, you looked up when you heard the directors asking if you were ready and when you nod and the count is over, the camera started recording.

   ‘‘Hi, I'm Harry Styles!'’ You greeted the camera with a big smile on your face, eliciting a laugh from Harry about your unexpected "joke.". Honestly, today was a good day for both of you where you were both in an extremely good mood. Unlike the other days where you were quarantined, you were emotionally untired and in the mood to film and have a small social interaction, which is rare.

   ‘’And I'm Y/N Y/L/N!'’ Harry said joining in the joke with you and then looking at you as he waited for you to say the rest of the introductory phrase but only realizing you were smiling at the camera without saying anything.   '’Y/N!'’  Harry called calmly causing you to turn your head to face him and realize he wanted you to continue instead of continuing himself.

   '’Oh sorry, I thought you were going to continue'’    You whispered conspiratorially to him before taking a deep breath and resting your hands on the table when you returned your gaze to the camera.   ‘’And we’re gonna go undercover on the internet today!!’’

   ‘’Yeah, I'm scared!'’  Harry said when opening the laptop that was over the table and turning it on. You sat back in your chair so that you could see the laptop screen clearly and smirked a little when you heard your boyfriend's words.

   ‘’Hm... Let's do TikTok!'’   Harry said after a few seconds in silence while thinking. Harry's words made you chuckle his words because you knew that Harry doesn't comprehend anything about TikTok and didn't have an account but you both would usually find yourselves in bed watching tiktoks for hours. '’Which username should we put in?'’, Harry asked without taking his eyes off the screen.

   ‘’You should be! I’ll expose all of your deepest secrets in this video'’   You said while raising your eyebrows in a playful way eliciting a laugh from Harry, one by the way, that he tried hard to sound a little desperate for people watching  '’Alright, what should we do first?’’

   ‘’Put ‘’simp4harry’’ !"  You said with a smirk on your lips as Harry let out a nasal laugh but put that username either way.

   ‘’Okay, but how did you think of that username so fast? I think it’s very creative'’  Harry asked as he finished creating the account.

   ‘’It's the username I put on everything!'’  You answered as you ran your right hand through your hair.

   ‘’Oh yes? So is this your Only Fans username?'’  Harry mockingly asked making you laugh and take your eyes off the screen and look at his face.

   ‘’No, I don't even have an account on Only Fans, for God's sake Styles'’. You answered as mockingly as he did, '’Why? You have one?'’  You asked calmly.

   ‘’No, I'm a one-woman man!'’ Harry said to cause you to smile convincingly.

   '’Can someone get me a bottle of water, please?'’ You asked gently for the people who were on the set and smiled thanking the person who brought you.

   ‘’Thank you!'’   You answered sounding a little bit shy, even though you’re a public person and listen to compliments quite often, you still don’t know how to react to them. You took a deep breath and raised your eyebrows before using your finger to point to the laptop screen as he opened your tiktok account,  ‘’I mean, I don’t even know why I’d be one of the best ones to follow since all I post on tiktok is unnecessary and stupid things that goes through my mind during the day.’’

   ‘’So inconvenient!'’  Harry whispered playfully. You two had this habit of being sassy to each other, and everyone around you was used to it. This craze started because the first time you guys hang out together in Shanghai, you just talked like you’ve known each other for years and not just five hours.

   '’I didn't drink water today, do you want me to be thirsty? I thought you loved me!'’   You used a dramatic tone when speaking before drinking a sip of water.

   ‘’I did!'’   Harry replied in a low tone finishing logging in the TikTok feed.

   ‘’What do you mean ''you did''?'’   You answered in a loud tone holding the laugh with Harry.

   ‘’Okay, focus on TikTok! Focus on TikTok!'’  Harry said with a laugh as you now brought his attention to the screen as well,  ‘’Hm, let's look at my girl's account!'’, Harry said as he typed your tiktok username in the search bar. You took a sip of the water in the bottle and put it on the table,  ‘’AND by the way, do you guys know that this woman over here was listed by The Cut as one of the best tiktokers to follow today? And I’m so proud’’

   ‘’Well, I love how you appreciate your talents, love!'’  Harry replied sarcastically with a smirk on his lips making you chuckle. He didn't like it very much when you belittled something you did, even if it was something that was really bad, he didn't like it. Not just with you though, but with all the people in the world. Harry doesn't like it when people don't recognize their worth.

   ‘’Ok, here’s the first one! I’ll be reacting to it!'’   Harry spoke in a playful tone while clicking on the video as he knew very well it was not a react video but to answer questions. Harry clicked on the first video, this time you were propped up with your face close to the camera with folded arms dubbed to the sound that was in the background. You then take the transparent glasses pulled over the beige in a matter of color that was in front of you on the table and put them under your eyes never failing to dub the song. Then you move away from the camera and can see you are wearing leggings and a sweatshirt. And then you take your Louis Vuitton Coussin PM silver bag and place it on your shoulder before the video ends   ‘’Alright, so on this video you don’t do anything else than mimicking to the song.’’

   ‘’No, but like, seriously!'’   You complemented. '’We’ll watch some of them, and you’ll see how silly they are!

   ‘’I know that’s why I said that it stupid!'’   You exclaimed as you crossed your arms on the table. ‘’Let’s see the comments'’   You, yourself clicked on the comments area with your hand before Harry did and observed as comments poped up.

   ‘’Ok so the user @username1 asked ‘’How does it feel being the coolest person ever’’, tell me Y/N, how does it feel like?'’  Harry asked with a smirk to you as he turned his head to encounter your face with raised eyebrows.

   ‘’Oh, it feels so nice!'’ You responded in a playful tone causing both of you to laugh at your conviction, even though you knew it was a teasing tone and not narcissistic  ‘’Everybody knows I’m like, the coolest person alive so...'’  You convincingly said running your hand through a few strands of your hair and then take a deep breath and put a lock of hair behind your ear.   ‘’No, I’m just kidding. I’m not cool everyday, honestly there are days that I’m the most annoying person ever so I definetely have my good and bad days.’’

   ‘’Oh and those annoying moments'’   Harry said in an ironic tone, letting out a dramatic sigh causing you to frown and slightly open your mouth as an offense while holding your laughter as you exclaimed a loud '' excuse me?’‘ as an answer. Harry returned his attention to the comments on the screen again and frowned and brought his face slightly closer to the screen to read   ‘’Okay so @username2 asked ‘’new trend: are you engaged?’’. No guys are not. We’ve never been engaged.’’

   ‘’I feel like we’ve been engaged since 2017!'’   You said sarcastically remembering all the rumors about engagement, babies and dating. Since the first time you has met there were rumors, thousands of them, all the time but you and Harry chose not to comment on them as it would just be a big waste of time.

   ‘’Exactly and we weren’t even dating in 2017!'’  Harry complemented by looking away from the camera at his nodded face. '’But anyway...’’   Harry said taking a deep breath  '’I love how random your tiktok actually is!’’

"I know! I am planning a whole video to film on Grammys day because I'm in love with my outfit and i’m so excited for it!" You said changing the subject but being excited about the idea. After the announcement of nominations and with all the excitement you felt for Harry, you agreed you would attend the Grammys together; it was something important because not only was he running for three awards but also because you never attended any events side by side, except at the 2019 Met Gala. Then the pressures would increase but Harry knew it would be so much easier if he had you there with him. Because whether or not he took the awards home, he knew you were there and he would be grateful for at least being nominated for sure.

"Wait, which outfit did you pick? " Harry asked as he left the tiktok site on the laptop and entered Instagram. Harry selected searched for the hashtag of both of your names as a ship name on the explorer, so it would be easier to find what both of you wanted. "You showed me three different outfits but didn’t told me which one you chose!"

"Oh, I choose the black Prada one!"  You answered calmly. Harry stopped using the laptop and turned his head quickly to face his face causing you to look surprised and confused at him due to your reaction. It was his favorite outfit from the three that you had shown to him. "What?I wanna look great before you win your first award and I start ugly crying."

"Oh my god, you’re probably more excited than me." Harry said turning his attention back to the laptop screen.

"Of course I am, I cannot wait to walk around telling people that my boyfriend is not only a three times grammy nominated but a grammy winner!" You answered as you grabbed the water bottle that you had previously asked and drinking a sip.

"Anyway, let’s see!" Harry said as he started searching through the hashtag posts, also drawing his attention to the same screen. You then see a post that catches your eye and points it so that Harry can click. The post was a picture of Harry on the Met Gala carpet with ‘’Harry pierced his own ear for the Met Gala with a needle’’ written on it. "Ok, that’s true! But, now ask me why I had to pierce my own ear?!"  He asked ironically, as if he were playing a trick on you, because he knew very well you had a mini argument that day since you refused to pierce his ear with the fricking needle.

"I told you I wouldn’t do it! Do you even have any idea of how dangerous that was?"  You replied right after rolling your eyes, but your tone of voice remained calm and you didn't get heated when you spoke. "You know you need to sterilize, right? And what if you had caught an infection? Do you really think I was going to do that? You're an adult. I can't stop you, but I wasn't going to pierce your ear."

"Hey, hey, hey!" He said causing you to stop talking and look at him. Harry raised his eyebrows and looked at you with a smirk before speaking. "The thing is: I really wanted to pierce my ear, and we wear finishing getting ready in New York. I asked Y/N if she had a needle. Neither her and Alessandro wanted to do it. Literally no one wanted to do it but I was very much decided so I did it myself and my ear is completely fine by the way" Harry said the last part making you roll your eyes again while looking at the camera and take a deep breath.

"Anyway..." You said as you dived back into the posts. In one of them you read someone saying in a comment that you and Harry would probably never fight. "Here, this one says ‘’I feel like they’re the type of couple that never fights and when they do, the fight lasts for 30 seconds’’".

"Absolutely untrue!" Harry said almost that immidiately while you nodded agreeing with him.

"Guys, every couple in the world argues. It’s natural, it’s not because we don’t have big arguments and talk shit about each other on the internet that we don’t have conflicts or understatement" You explained. You and Harry are really compatible, but you still have your moments and it’s important to recognize it. No relationship is perfect and disagreeing on things is absolutely understandable.

"Yeah, specially ‘cause we’re different people that come from different places and had different experiences. As long as the disagreements are not causing you serious mental and emotional harm is normal" Harry complemented your thought. It’s important to notice when a relationship is not making you feel good anymore. If your unhappy for any reason is important to leave and to search for help if needed. "See, if you could change anything in our relationship, what would it be?" Harry asked making you pay attention to his words and face as you thought attentively in silence for a few seconds.

"I think I would probably change the fact that we’re usually really far away from each other!" You said calmly while looking at him. "Like, you’re always travelling and so I am, so I feel like it can get hard sometimes because of that and I’d definitely would change that if I could do it without like, changing our whole careers and lives."

"Yeah, I’d probably change that as well!" Harry agreed nodding to you as he was thinking as well. "I’m very grateful for quarantine on that point because we could spend more time together without being so long apart from each other. Of course I wish it was on different situations but I’m grateful for that" Harry said and you could understand that completely. You and Harry had been dating since 2018 and had spend months apart from each other and only you both truly knew how hard it could get sometimes, specially when you had the whole world to judge both of you.

"I fully understand it! Sometimes I think about everyone who spent this past year alone, and I’m really grateful for having you with me...LIke, you’re my best friend, you know this" You said looking at Harry’s face. He had a growing tender smile on his face that was starting to make you nervous and emotional on the same time as you remembered the past year. You felt your eyes getting wet and let out a chuckle looking away from his gaze. "I’m getting emotional! It’s all about my cancer rising today!"

"Oh sure, it’s always zodiac’s fault!" Harry said laughing and then looking at the screen and the crew on the backstage while gesturing with his hands. "That’s probably one thing about Y/N that you guys don’t know. She fully believes on zodiac signs and those stuffs. Actually, there was one time when she told me that we couldn’t be together because our signs were incompatible."

"Okay but like, Harry is an Aquarius and I’m a Taurus. We are incompatible when it comes to zodiac signs!" You said between giggles as you tried justifying your point even though Harry knew you were joking when you said that to him. He didn’t know at the time though he was very much surprised and scared when you said it.

"But anyway, I’m glad that we spend this time together. It’s been weird and funny at the same time like the spaghetti day!" Harry said holding his giggles as he watched your eyes widen because you knew exactly what he was talking about.

"NO, we're not talking about this!" You talked fastly while laughing at the same time as Harry as you both remembered that one night in quarantine when a spaghetti night went completely wrong and he came on the kitchen to see you and a kitchen with spaghetti and tomato sauce all over the floor and the walls and how you cried to convince him to clean the whole kitchen alone and failed. "Ok, let's finish the video here before things are leaked!" You said giggling.

"Alright, this was very nice. Thank you GQ for having us and I hope we weren't the worst guests you've ever had!" Harry said joking even though you both knew that it was quite hard to be very open in the media specially about your relationship but you tried your hardest.

"Don't forget to watch Harry peform on Grammys on sunday!" You said.

[buckyownsmylife]

daddy issues - chapter xv

The one where Ransom doesn’t feel ready to become a father, but he should have thought about it before sleeping with a complete stranger.

When Ransom’s latest one night stand lets him know that he’s going to become a father, he finds himself looking for the qualities he never believed to have so he can become the parent he never got to witness as a child.

for general warnings and author’s notes, please go to the fic’s masterlist.

A/N for this chapter: this is 3.2k of unedited drama and I am so fucking proud of it. I wrote this entire thing today, and it’s easily one of the pieces I’m most proud of. So I haven’t been able to fit a proper conversation between the reader and Harlan - I couldn’t make the scene justified if his presence was there, since he does seem to be the one thing that keeps the family on the line - but that means I had some ideas of how I can make up for it in the future! Extra chapter? Perhaps. We are approaching the end though. I only have two more chapter planned for this fic and an epilogue. We’ll see how that goes!

Y/N’s P.O.V.

“Hey!” I got into the car excited to see him again, but I tried to reason with myself that it was all because of his visit to his grandfather’s publishing company, of course. I wanted to know how that went and I was curious as to what Harlan’s plans were, that was mostly it.

The fact that I had genuinely missed the man by my side after spending just four hours away from him had very little to do with it, or so I tried to tell myself. I didn’t know how to deal with depending so much on someone yet.

But I was trying to.

Ransom’s silence alerted me that something was different. I stopped trying to fix myself to look to the side and find him staring out the window, face expressionless and eyes void of any sentiment.

“Ransom, what’s wrong?” Reaching over, I squeezed his thigh to get his attention, and he jerked as if he was genuinely surprise by my presence in the small vehicle. “You look stressed,” I clarified, eyebrows furrowed in worry as I reached over to push away a strand of hair that had fallen out of place.

He just stared at me for a while and still I couldn’t read what he was thinking. Was he mad at me? Had I done something wrong? After what felt like eternity, he sighed, gripping the steering wheel as he looked on his lap and admitted, “I’m gonna have to go to this family dinner on Friday.”

Immediately, I breathed deeply in relief, suddenly realizing just how worried I actually was that his mood had something to do with me. But then I was reminded of the little that Ransom had told me about this family - even that little felt like too much.

I could only imagine the anxiety he was feeling, and my heart ached to soothe him as best as I could. “Do you want me to go with you?” I asked, running my digits over his nape calmly, keeping my voice as soft as possible to help him relax.

Still, his head snapped up so he could meet my eyes, his wide as two saucers as he struggled to process what I’d said. “… You’d do that?” He sounded so surprised, so genuinely shocked by my offer, that I couldn’t stop myself from giggling, taking both of his hands on mine and squeezing them gently.

“Of course I would, honey.” Ransom’s eyes were so soft as they stared into mine, even as my heart doubled its size in its effort to reach out for his, I found myself justifying, “You went with me to see my parents!”

The way his smile dropped at my explanation had me feeling cold and empty, desperate to see him look at me the same way he was doing only seconds ago.

“Besides,” I forced myself to admit it, trying not to sound as breathless as I felt while I opened my heart to him. “I-I don’t want you to go through that alone. I wanna be there for you, like you were for me.”

Immediately, I felt rewarded on my effort to open up by the smile he gave me. “Thank you, baby.” He squeezed my hand this time, and when he leaned over and connected our lips on a quick peck, my heart skipped a beat.

I was in love with this man.

Ransom’s P.O.V.

I sighed as we stood in front of my grandfather’s front door, trying to adjust my sweater that suddenly felt uncomfortable. Beside me, she seemed to be doing the exact same thing, fingers pulling on the end of the dress she was wearing, making me smile.

The dress highlighted her bump - it was now undeniable that she was pregnant and even if I’d never been particularly attracted to women in this stage of life, I couldn’t tear my eyes away from her now.

It was like she shined from within. Her beauty amazed me, and so when she noticed me staring and stopped fiddling with her clothes, straightening herself up to ask, “Do I look okay?” I had to stop myself from laughing.

“Yes.” More than okay. “But are you sure you won’t be cold?” We’d gone through this argument before leaving the house, so I was prepared to see her rolling her eyes as she reached out to take my hand in hers.

“Unless your family has the habit of dining outdoors regardless of the weather, I think we’ll be alright.” I chuckled, rubbing my thumb on the back of her hand, but it sounded nervous even to my own ears. It didn’t surprise me that she noticed it. “Are you ready?” She questioned, voice in that soothing tone she used whenever she noticed my stress.

“Not at all,” I admitted, but in all honesty, the prospect of joining my family for dinner didn’t seem as bad as it usually did. Not with her by my side.

“I’m here for you.” Hearing her say those words meant more to me than I was able to properly express at that moment so I just stared at her, taking in the fact that this incredible person actually cared about me.

“Just… don’t leave me alone, okay?” Her immediate nod had me smiling. It prompted me to once again lean over and connect our lips, only this time, when I tried to pull away, she kept me close with her hand on the back of my neck.

Who knows where this kiss might have led us if the door hadn’t open right at that moment, revealing my lousy uncle who stared from me to her with wide eyes?

“… She’s pregnant? With your baby?” A groan was all I could muster as a response, tugging her into the house with me. “When were you going to tell your family?”

“For fuck’s sake,” I cursed, looking around the living room for the bar. “Where’s the goddamn alcohol?” There was no way I’d be able to survive this night without it, as much as I wanted to be supportive of Y/N.

“I think that’s a bottle of scotch,” I heard her whispering next to me, pointing towards a corner of the room, and I sighed in relief at her understanding.

“Thanks, sweetheart.”

Y/N’s P.O.V.

An hour into the evening and I had already understood why Ransom was the way that he was - and why he liked his grandfather so much, despite how he felt about the rest of the family.

Harlan was gentle where all of his children were… prickly. In fact, he was the only one who addressed me at all, but I found myself feeling grateful for it, since when the dinner actually started, I wanted the rest of the family to forget about me completely.

“I am so sorry,” Harlan apologized, rubbing his hands nervously as he stared at the rest of the family who was walking towards the dining room. “I sleep early, everyone knows that, but this is the only time they could all gather and since they didn’t know you were coming…”

I waved away his apologies, offering him a hug as I wished him good night. “Just as long as you’ve had your dinner, Harlan. Thanks for welcoming me into your home.”

He accepted my embrace easily, taking advantage of the proximity to whisper in my ear, “Just hang on to him, dear. I promise it’ll be worth it.” I smiled when we parted, nodding in confirmation to his words.

“It already is,” I assured him, but he only sighed.

“Make sure to remember that during dinner…” Now I understood why. It started with a simple question, one of the maids offered me some meat, and when I hesitated to answer…

“God, are you daft, girl? Have you never eaten lamb?” My eyes widened in surprise, but before Ransom could have the chance to throw himself at his mother, I just squeezed his thigh.

“I was going to ask her if there was any oregano in the sauce. It’s been making me feel sick.” I didn’t need to add why - the reminder of my situation, of what led me to be there with them in this dining room was very clear in me.

And still, that didn’t stop them.

“That’s a pretty necklace…” Ransom’s father commented before we could even grab a bite. I chuckled to myself, immediately catching onto what he wasn’t saying.

“Thanks, I got it at a little boutique back home. It was a gift for myself after I got my first paycheck.” I could feel Ransom’s gaze on me, the waves of pride rolling from him in waves. It made me smile, but it was just the calm before the storm.

“Ransom, have you contacted a lawyer?”  This question came from his uncle’s wife, Donna - I think that’s what she was called. Not that she tried to introduce herself to me or anything, but Harlan made sure I knew everyone’s name as soon as I stepped inside the house.

“Why?” Ransom’s tone was vicious and his squinted eyes alerted everyone that he was prepared for a strike, but the fact that he still hadn’t anticipated what was coming almost made me laugh.

Even Donna herself hesitated, unbelieving that he was going to make her say it. “There’s no way you’re that stupid.” And just like that, the doors to hell were opened up.

Ransom’s P.O.V.

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing, but then again, was I really surprised?

“You should make sure to draw a prenup,” Donna insisted, while the rest of the family pretended not to hear, undoubtedly coming up with their own ways to insult Y/N. “Something that will assure only your kid has access to your money.”

I could hear Y/N quietly laughing to herself next to me, but while she was able to find the irony in the situation amusing, all I felt was blinding rage.

“God, do you even hear the shit you say? I never asked for your input, this, right here, is precisely why I didn’t tell any of you all about my baby.” I saw Y/N flinch from the corner of my eyes before I heard my mother’s fork drop against the precious porcelain dish she was pretending to eat from. I knew this was the sorest topic of discussion for her. I knew this was why she had been pretending Y/N wasn’t even there, hadn’t even been invited to dinner with me.

“Fair enough,” she spoke, lying back against her chair as she finally raised her eyes to meet mine. “I don’t know if we even should learn anything about this child, considering it most likely isn’t even yours.”

It was like someone had thrown a bucket of ice over me. Y/N was oddly quiet now, seemingly as frozen as me - and when I realized that, my anger returned with twice its power.

“Watch your fucking mouth,” I warned, just as my mother retorted, “Don’t you talk like that to me.” I didn’t even have the chance to talk back when she stroke again. “You fuck so many ransom desperate chicks, I’m surprised this is the first you knocked up.”

This was as insulting to her as it was to me, and it also struck a chord in me because of how I feared this was just reinforcing Y/N’s views of me. “Don’t say shit like that,” I threatened, to no avail. “Don’t talk about her like that.”

“Ransom…” Her sweet voice tried to intervene, but I was too far gone to hold myself back now. I couldn’t stand the thought that I was hurting her because I was the reason she was here in the first place.

“You know nothing about her, and yet you feel comfortable judging her,” I continued, ignoring her completely. “She’s a lawyer, actually. You would know it if you had even bothered to talk to her. If there was ever the need for a prenup, I’d have her draw it.”

Maybe they thought I’d stop at that - I thought so myself, until I realized there was still so much I wanted to get out, and I was going to do that now.

“And you know what? I trust her more than I trust you, and I came out of you. So maybe you should consider that before you attack the one person I try to introduce to my family.” I hated everything about this. I hated how they still managed to get to me, how the fact that my own mother, who I didn’t even respect, still managed to make me feel inadequate about the one thing in my life that made me excited.

I knew I’d always lose with them. They just had this way of inciting the beast in me - they brought out the worst in me, and I felt helpless to fight it.

“Okay, so she’s not some random skank,” my uncle oh-so-helplessly interrupted, immediately making me want to punch him in his stupid face. “But this just means she’s the one playing you.”

“Oh, shut up!” I threw my hands up, pushing my chair away from the table, fully intended to storm out of the room until Meg was the one who stopped me dead in my tracks.

“Did you even get a paternity test, Ransom?” She seemed almost uncomfortable to voice it, eyes darting from me to Y/N, but I could read her apologetic smile perfectly.

She just didn’t want someone else to get Harlan’s attention and interest because that would potentially mean less money to each and everyone of the people in this room, as he’d add one more person to his aid list.

My father took advantage of what Meg said, waving in her direction. “Don’t you know how important this family is? How quickly she could rise in any job because of a connection to us?”

My mother scoffed, finally ready to interfere again. “Knowing she’s actually smart leaves me even more surprised that you’ve relented and decided to become someone’s little plaything until this baby pops out. I’m assuming a few months with a screaming kid and you’re just gonna abandon her anyway. Which is fine by me, I won’t have to pretend to be a grandmother for long.”

Y/N’s P.O.V.

All I could think was how grateful I was that I had accompanied him to this dinner tonight. As I watched his chest heaving with fury, I could not imagine how he would have felt having to deal with all of this on his own.

“Ransom,” I tried to catch his attention, pulling him back to his seat. “Ransom, it’s okay,” I tried to appease him, but he was too fucking gone to care.

“No, it’s not okay, he pushed my hand away, getting up from his chair to lean over the table, both hands on top of it as he stared at his mother.  “What the fuck is wrong with you?” He yelled, making me flinch, although Linda hardly seemed bothered by it.

Then, much to my surprise, Ransom straightened up, running a hand through his hair as an emotionless chuckle escaped him. “No, you know what? You’re right. You’re not gonna be a grandmother. I’m gonna be a father, Harlan’s gonna be a great-grandfather, but that’s it. I’m not gonna keep taking your shit anymore, Linda, you know why? Even if this child wasn’t mine, I’d still want her and this kid.”

My heartbeat pumped out of control as he continued, “She’s not just someone who’s carrying my child. I care about her. And if you can’t respect her, than I guess I was right in keeping this pregnancy from you.”

I held my breath as Ransom apparently caught his, my head swirling with the different emotions running through me - my infatuation for this man, who had so fiercely defended me from his entire family, the adrenaline from witnessing such a vicious argument.

I truly believed this would be the end of it. I didn’t know where they could go from here - that was, of course, until Linda decided to attack him.

“Oh, and you think you’re going to be so great with it?” My blood boiled when her words turned against her own son so easily. Attack me and my dignity? That was okay, these people didn’t know me.

But seeing her attack Ransom was just too much for me.

“Do you think she’ll want to keep you around once she realizes she’ll be raising two children with you to weigh her down?” Ransom visibly faltered, like she had slapped him, and that’s when I had enough. “You’ll never be able to give her the emotional support that she needs and you know that.”

I rose to my feet at that, holding onto my lower back as I softly slapped Ransom’s back in an attempt to calm him down. “I got this, babe.” He was so surprised - and still so hurt by his mother’s statements - that he didn’t even try to stop me. In fact, I think he didn’t even realize what was going on until I turned to Linda and started talking.

“Do you really think that poorly of your son that you can’t believe he has anything to offer in a relationship?” Now she was the one who looked up at me with an expression that looked like I had physically hurt her.

“Is it that unbelievable to you, that someone would be able to like him for him?” She didn’t seem to be able to find anything to answer to me, and when I turned to Richard, I was also met with silence.

Ransom’s P.O.V.

“Well, I do,” she announced, like it was the single most obvious thing, the simplest fact to deduce in the world, while I stood back watching her with my mouth hanging open. “I like him enough to be willing to open up to him even if one day he might leave me because to me, he is worth any possibility of future pain.”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. I’d never had anyone defend me like this, not even Harlan - not even my parents, when I was a kid and the bigger children decided to bully me.

No, back then all I got was a talk about how “real men don’t cry” and if my father ever caught me cowering from someone else again he’d give me a real reason to be afraid.

“And I do say possibility,” she continued, not having raised her voice for even a second and still to effortlessly able to catch the attention of everyone in the room, assure herself the ground to speak her mind without the fear of interruptions. “Because Ransom’s actions have never given me any reason to think that outcome is even remotely probable.”

“So maybe you think about your own opinions of your son’s character and see if they don’t reflect your own more than they reflect his actions.” She turned around after that, tiny hand encircling my wrist as she began to yank me in the direction of the front door.

“Let’s go.”

[embracethemadmess]

Dreaming with the Witch- #2 - just Marc

Story summary:  Steven is refusing to sleep at night again, but this time he also doesn’t want to front during the day, so Marc has to cover for him at work, running on little to no sleep every day, straining his voice on -quite bad- British soft accent. If that wasn’t enough, there’s this third alter still actively moon knighting without the other two knowing. All this leaves the body completely exhausted and, well, on the edge of falling apart. One time the system meets a witch willing to help heal both the body and the disturbed minds in it.

Chapter summary: Steven disappears for a day.

word count: 5682

masterpost

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Chapter notes: I actually had the whole chapter ready to publish but I forgot that ao3 doesn't automatically save drafts. The page refreshed and I lost the last two pages or so. I'm gonna have to write it from scraps, will probably update this chapter later (but maybe I'll decide to add it as a separate one), till this time please enjoy what has survived this tragic moment.

likes and comments are always appreciated :).

Disclaimers: I do not have D.I.D., therefore my story should not be treated as a trustful source of knowledge on the topic. I strongly encourage you all to learn about it from actual systems or other resources. Mirrors and all that reflections theme are used as a way to connect the story to the TV show. If you notice any mistakes on my side, please let me know so I can fix them.

Their dreams were primarily separate. Each of them would dream of different things, at different times even, which gave them something they could chat about in the morning during their breakfast time. Marc only shared his good or at least neutral dreams, not wanting to add to Steven's anxiety or ruin his good mood, even though the brit rarely had it nowadays. Part of Marc was quite impressed with the fact the other's jollity became rarer than his own, the other part was worried by it, settling the feeling of well-known unease down his lower stomach. 

Steven, on the other hand, would tell Marc about every single one of his dreams, making it a part of their morning routine. The thing was, he would talk about them quickly and without really elaborating on them as if he wished to leave this matter on a shallow surface, not wanting to dig deeper into the meaning of what his imagination was projecting for him at night. Marc never once questioned it, knowing better than to force his headmate to do something he clearly wasn't comfortable with.

However, there were times when their dreams interacted with each other in some ways; different scenarios mixing into one messed-up one, fighting for a spot of their own, or unexpectedly taking over their collective mind without any warning.

Like this time.

Marc starts the night dreaming of nothing, which was his favourite state. Every time his dreams were consisting of just a plain grey space without any sound, specific sight or unidentified scent, he couldn't be more grateful to his imagination, taking the opportunity to properly rest and gather the energy for the next day. He isn't ready for Steven's nightmare flooding his mind out of nowhere, to say the least.

His jaw tightens in sleep when it all hits all at once with a force of a train, the safety of a light room around him being replaced with the worst memories they both earned throughout their lifetimes. Whichever turn he takes, whichever direction he takes a cautious step in, a new demon appears right in front of him, ripping a piece of his soul out of his gashed open body. Fear coated the whole place with darkness, the only source of light being a red flash blinding him from underneath the silhouettes of monsters, whether it be Harrow calling him a parasite, his mother holding a belt in her hand and spitting venomous insults to his face, or his little brother, all stiff and cold from drowning alive in a cave. Nothing seems to help; Marc tries to escape but always somehow ends up in the exact same spot, tries to shout it is just a dream but the boneless figures only laugh hysterically at that, and tries to call out for Steven to wake up but he is nowhere to be seen or heard. 

"Leave us alone." He says out loud and locks his fist around the edge of a carpet that in the dream turns out to be cold sand on which he fell while backing away from the demonic version of his mom. It's not even her corrupt, livid body that frightens him, it's simply the sole fact that she was there and had him cornered with nowhere to escape. After all these years, he still wasn't ready to fully face this part of his childhood trauma, not even in a dream, not without full control over the time and way this would happen, and definitely not without Steven by his side. It's too much and he wants to get out.

"Stay right where the fuck you are, you hear me?" he mouths in the silence of their apartment, surprised that he can talk freely since he noticed that when he tried to scream, not a sound would come out of his mouth, he would just let out a trembling breath and nothing more. 

The ground underneath him starts moving, catching his attention for a second as his brows knit at the sight of his hands and feet slowly dipping in the sand, his whole body freezing suddenly but painfully. Should've been you, he hears each time a belt meets his skin in hard blows, crushing another part of his fossiled body until there's nothing left of him but a little bit of dust floating around in cold air.

With a dramatic gasp, he wakes up, rapidly raising his head only to crash into the underside of the tabletop he fell asleep under. Thoughts are racing in his mind chaotically, he's panting and whining from pain spreading across his forehead, leaving him unable to recognise his bearings. 

"Fuckin' hell." After he swears to himself, he lies back down on the floor, rolls over to his stomach and lazily crawls out from under the coffee table in the middle of their apartment. Squinting his eyes in order to protect his still sensitive sight from the sunlight pouring through one of three large windows, he caresses the spot on his forehead that took a direct hit, while the other hand he uses for support, pressing the palm against the wooden floor as he slowly stands up. Without thinking he drags the body to the kitchen to put a coffee pot of his favourite coffee blend on the burner; he's been making coffee the same minute he's heard his alarm going off for years now, so it practically became his instinct to touch the coffee pot before he even looked in the bathroom mirror on his way to take a morning pee. He might forget to shower, but he never once skipped his coffee time. It tasted best in Egypt, sure, but life taught him well not to complain as it always could be worse.

As soon as the drink was boiling hot and ready, simmering in a pot a little under an impatient look Marc was throwing at it, he pours the jet black liquid into the cup and immediately raises it to his face, closing his eyes and sighing softly on how pleasantly it smells. 

"How 'r we feeling today, Stevie bean?" he asks and then blinks surprised by his own raspy voice as he lazily makes his way to the middle part of their studio where the old green armchair is standing next to a simple little table (snowed under approximately a ton of books) and a drying rack full of clothes that were waiting for their turn to be folded neatly and put into a cupboard. He knocks on the surface of a full-length mirror in front o him prior to sitting down comfortably, giving his coffee a quick blow before taking a few sips. "It's another working day, is there a point in singing some counting rhyme to determine which one of us is fronting today?" he adds in a playful voice but that mocking tone leaves him the moment he sees a sorrowful look on a man in the mirror who should be just his own reflection but somehow wasn't.

"I ain't gonna bite you, so just, talk to me?" Marc tries, this time gently and not louder than a whisper. His alter only shrugs in response to that and then there's a good minute of complete silence between them. It's not awkward, no; just expectant. Within this time they're both simply watching each other, pondering - Marc on what upset Steven to a point where he's visibly holding back tears, and Steven on how Marc managed to look so calm, almost unimpressed, just moments after waking up from a horrible dream he knew he accidentally let experience them both instead of only himself. It seems for Steven as if not even a single wrinkle has appeared on their shared face due to stress caused by an unwanted image from the past, not a single redness on their cheeks secretly hiding a blush of anger, and not an uncomfortable glare coming from Marc's eyes but a clear expression of care and tenderness poured on dark chocolate of them. Brit's heart aches as he realises how close the two of them have become for the other alter to show affection toward him openly. Because that's exactly what it is, as strange as it may sound, since Marc letting anyone read anything, apart from annoyance, off his face is something that doesn't happen often.

After that Steven finally decides to speak.

'M tired. Had a nightmare, he says with an exhausted sigh, and Marc nods in understanding.

"I know. Uh, does it mean you'd prefer to just, you know, hide?" the one in front asks hesitantly, showing his worry even more with the way he rubs the nape of his neck. "Like, inside?"

It's Steven's turn to nod, and he's biting the inside of his cheek like he's afraid of Marc's reaction to his decision, even if he's the one to propose it. Marc quickly decides that he hates seeing his headmate this nervous in front of him. He shouldn't be, not with him, not with anyone really. But Steven's simply too pure for this world and all these little gestures are proof of it. 

Iff it's not a problem ffor you, I'd like to stayy inside and rest a bit, per-rhaps? comes from the man in the mirror, not quite stuttering, but dragging out some of the letters as if using the space between them for his personal needs.

Marc doesn't mind. He hums in agreement, one corner of his lips shifts upwards as he returns the small smile Steven gives him before disappearing deep to the back of their shared space within the mind, and in a matter of seconds, he's left alone with the system's body. He still can feel Steven somewhere, but it's obvious the British alter is no longer co-conscious and present in a way they agreed on after their little adventure in the Duat.

It feels weird, it feels wrong even, and a singular shiver climbs up on his spine at the feeling of being completely on his own, just like in their dream. 

While still looking in the mirror, he calls out Steven's name just in case, and as soon as he's met with no response and a reflection that is clearly his own, his whole demeanour changes. His lips fall to a straight line, shoulders drop a little, although still remain fairly straight compared to the frame Steven usually wears due to his years in the army, and dark-circled eyes seem to sink in even more than before, putting extreme exhaustion on a perfect display for no one to see but Marc.

He stays in this position, stilled in an armchair with his fingers curled around the coffee cup and his gaze directed at his image in the mirror, for a while, trying to gather the energy to face the stress he willingly put himself out for. When he finally moves, his whole body weighs twice as much, or at least that's what it feels like. Muscles tighten and strain under the pressure he puts on walking around the apartment, from the bathroom to the sleeping area to the kitchen and back, in a process of getting ready for work, having his alarm set for just the right time to leave so he won't be late. It's almost as if he's got a step-by-step plan written down in his memory, he realises somewhere between brushing gently his bouncing curls with a wide-tooth comb and eating leftover vegan dumplings Steven managed to order online the day before but didn't eat. Every minute out of thirty is used to the fullest, some of them are even spent on doing a few things at once, and well calculated to the point where he knows exactly how much time he has left before the alarm goes off.

Classical music is playing faintly in the background the whole time he spends alone going from sitting pointlessly in his pyjamas with the remains of sleep on his eyelids to steaming clothes he quickly chose after not giving the outfit prepared by Steven a second glance. It's easier this way, he reckons, listening to some melody and picking up all the instruments hidden within different notes, not giving his mind time to come up with intrusive thoughts he's been dealing with for ages now. With his alter not feeling well enough to even survive an entire day fronting, he finds himself not having time for his own issues when all of his energy he puts into fronting if necessary and not throwing up while doing so, since it is far from what he truly desires. 

The cool air from outside causes the hair on his arms to stand up and jars his shoulders with a rapid shiver as he strips naked in order to put on freshly ironed clothing. Strands of loose curls get in his eyes every time he makes a sudden move with his head, leaving him blowing dramatically in attempts to rid his sight of them; he's not used to having his hair like that, always preferred styling it with gel so it stayed slicked back for hours, not interrupting him during the whole day. But it's Steven's workplace he is about to enter, and there's already an element of surprise in the shape of a beard on his face, so he doesn't want to change yet another aspect of the body's appearance for Steven's colleagues to become curious about.

On this day, Steven only shows up, well, willingly, once more, two minutes before Marc's leaving the apartment. What triggers him to do so is a soft click of the clasp in Marc's favourite (and the only one) watch. 

Can you shave for us before you leave?

"No" is the only response Marc gives to this question, short, quick and emotionless not because he's being mean to him, but because he doesn't feel the need to sugarcoat something that won't have a direct effect on his headmate. Steven huffs loudly and tries again when he feels the body tensing due to moving towards the door.

I had clothes prepped for today, you know. The brit grunts shily and that has Marc chuckling a bit. Issa reason for them to be folded outside the cupboard, innit?

"If anyone has any reason why I should not wear this fine cashmere sweater-" Marc starts saying quietly as he steps outside the flat, locking the door behind them but Steven cuts across him with an almost offended-sounding: jumper. The American rolls both his eyes at the comment and his sleeves of a mustard yellow sweater up to the middle of his forearms before he continues. "Instead of this ugly patterned shirt that does absolutely nothing to our nice shoulders, speak now or forever hold your peace."

They will cut my paycheck if they see you wearing cashmere.

"Can’t hear ya, I’m too far now."  Words are leaving his mouth freely as he's heading to the stairs after choosing them over the elevator, certain that no one will hear him talking to himself. 

I’m quite literally in your head, you prick.

Marc snorts out a burst of genuine laughter at the sound of Steven's tantrum, then he gently tugs up the fabric of his black corduroy trousers on his thighs and runs down the stairs as if trying to pump some adrenaline into the drained body.

Instead, he pumps dizziness into the space between the brain and the skull, and nausea hits the stomach and the whole nervous system as soon as he's at the front door of the building. His vision gets blurry and he bends in half, leaning the palms of his hands against his knees, feeling his heart hammering painfully in his chest. 

One moment he loses strength and feels how darkness swallows him whole, leaving both the body and his mind floating powerlessly in attenuation.

Second, he feels his control over the body being taken away from him but differently, not by fainting. He's pushed inside and trapped there while the body is standing still next to some strangers caged in the same pose as it does in the middle of a pavement. He feels the presence of not just Steven in their collective space of mind, and all he can see is red, red bleeding in from everywhere, drowning them.

Three swearwords rip through the thick scarlet smoke.

Fuck.

Shite.

Joder.

Although it's like they are all spoken in the headspace, each one of them actually leaves their shared mouth, one by one, each of them said with more struggle than the previous; each of them weaker and huskier while their throat is getting tighter as if a steely grip was trying to break their windpipe.

Even when being imprisoned inside the body, not having any hold on it whatsoever, they still can feel the temperature around it going down all of a sudden, leaving it shuddering, almost being tossed around by the howling wind. Physical pain slowly takes over all of their senses and makes them want to grit their teeth as they can so much as to scream dreadfully; only on the inside, because their physical form remains frozen in time, in a way, since they can't move no matter how hard they try.

Utterly blind to the outer world, they don't see a figure of a woman appearing on every reflective surface around them - she's seen by not a soul caged on cobblestone, but for eyes of a deity standing on the nearest ceiling, bracing itself on a golden cane with a crescent atop, she is noticeable. It lets out a sigh at the sight of her before it looks over to its avatar and sees how he's visibly trying to summon his suit - black leatherette combats are replacing corduroy for a split second before fading right back away, and the thickness of textured fabric attempts to hide his curls under a silvery hood of a well-fitted jacket at the same time as smooth bandage-like stripes, some of which embroidered with Egyptian symbols, are wrapping and unwrapping his torso. 

The god has never seen anything like that - throughout all the years he's spent using different bodies as his fist of vengeance, he's never once seen an avatar fighting for a chance to suit up, yet failing.

The aura of pure desperation is rimming the one helpless body, mingling with the red mist in the cold air around it, while the other ones are already lost to fear, choking slowly and painfully enough for the veins on their necks to show up. She can feel it as she's walking by stiff figures, the same mist swirling around her hands while she plays with her fingers, the only part of naked skin on her gloved forearms; she sees his hands trembling as if wanting to reach his throat, she hears uneven breaths and almost non-audible groans and it all intrigues her nearly to the point where she's thinking about stopping by him and swaying his chin up to look in the eyes of the bravest warrior of them all. But she doesn't.

Instead, the billowing skirt on the back of her body gently brushes the fabric of his hanging loose suspenders when she passes him without noticing a single detail of his lowered face, and she lazily makes her way to the front of a small group of people gathered in one place between the buildings. Upon this view, the deity hits the ceiling it's been standing on with its cane and with this simple movement, it appears before her, to which she tilts her head slightly, and a ghost of smirk tugs one corner of her lips.

"Khonsu" a quick greeting leaves her mouth, a piercing look in her eyes almost paralysing.

"The Scarlet Witch..." The god responds quickly but the tone of his voice is stern as always. 

They both take a moment to salute each other with a simple nod of their heads, a sign of mutual respect.

"So you know me," she points out, now resting her arms down her sides instead of fiddling with her hands, "I'm flattered."

"A cursed witch, forged by the Chaos Magic-"

"Don't." She interjects, already knowing where this is going, but he ignores her warning and continues.

"-destined to either rule over or destroy the world."

At that, she clenches her fists and the red mist forms around her hands again as well as it wraps around the throats of innocent people all around the both of them, tightening its grip to the point when they simultaneously let out a horrific scream.

"Careful, what you say to me." This comes out in the form of a hiss from her, although her face remains perfectly unbothered, red-glowing eyes being the only sign of her malignity.

Khonshu turns his beak ever so slightly to the side to see his avatar dropping to his knees, the falcon's skull-shaped kneepads appearing just in time to insure his fall, and as soon as the witch catches the deity's sudden move, with obvious curiosity she starts to turn her head to the place it's facing. Just a second before she can notice the face of the avatar, she feels an unexpected gale surrounding her, causing soft curls to get in her eyes for a moment, sticking to her lips and tangling in the horns of her tiara. 

By the time she's raised her hands and thrown a few blood-red blasts that cleared the air around her, she finds herself being in a completely different place, far away from the one she craved to see. As a response to the situation, she lets out a dry chuckle, shaking her head. 

Khonshu is there as well, his position in front of her hasn't changed, contrary to their environment. He's towering above her, although it seems like she's the one trumping over him and, judging by her expression, she's aware of it. 

"Could it be dismay I feel in you..?" She asks politely, her fingers niddling again from the lack of other occupation, irony dripping off the corners of her lips like venom. "Why bother fighting if you know I'm inevitable?" comes in addition, only confirming her cheekiness.

"So, the prophecy comes to life," the god announces, oblivious to what has just been said. When getting no response besides a raised eyebrow, he adds, "you begin the end of the world by killing off the strongest ones first. Clever, that I must admit."

"If by 'the strongest" you mean the ones you have to hide from me behind your tricks, then it's not clever at all," she says, "it's a playdate."

"Don't you dare disrespect me like that."  The deity spits out, anger peeking from the bony skull. "I'm a God, you accurst creature. Lay your hand on my avatar and you-"

"I have higher matters at hand right now." The Scarlet Witch interrupts his threat with a teasing smile playing on her lips once more when the rest of her face is a beautiful painting of severity to be feared. "Therefore, God of the moon, as long as you stay out of my way, you can rest assured I am not going to cause a single hair to fall off your toy's head."

"He's not my toy."

"He's currently suffocating to death, yet you are here, chatting with me. Is it because you know you are powerless against me, or because you crave to know how much pain he can truly bear? Tell me, Khonsu, if you play with his life, what does that make him-" she pauses just for the time needed to step toward him with a curious look on a pale face. She notices how the god warns her by leaning his cane just a little bit toward her, nevertheless, she decides to ignore it. When she's close enough before him, she lifts her chin so she's able to look up at him. "-if not just a pitiful toy of yours?"

With that, she sends a single swirl of red mist to the sides of his head, more of a mock rather than attack, and then she backs away, not even glancing behind when she says her last words.

"You'll be seeing me when I need you, till this time you and your avatar have nothing to worry about."

The witch then waves her fingers, creating yet another bloody-toned wreath, and at that moment her silhouette fades away, leaving a speck of shimmery gold dust that later on dissolves into thin air. Like she was never there, to begin with.

The Moon-god only tilts his head at her exit, then, with a tap of his cane and a simple turn, he comes back to his previous place, on the ceiling of an old building next to his avatar's apartment; to the place where the red energy left people, including Marc Spector, collapsing to the ground as a result of their waking from the forceful trance.

Although certainly not the first one to gasp, Marc is back on his feet in a matter of seconds after shaking off the stupor. Holding one hand, closed in a fist, close to his chest and breathing extremely heavily, he reaches his throat with his other palm and starts massaging it with a gentle touch of fingertips. His mind is still clouded, his vision a little fuzzy like every time he tries to read something written in a small font without wearing glasses, and he still doesn't have a proper grip over his body, but after taking a quick glance at other victims, he's satisfied with his ability to move without falling back down. 

He takes a second to put his right hand in the front pocket of his pants, through the hole he cut out there, to the inner side of his thigh where a little pocket knife is strapped around the tense muscles. Confusion, settled into his brow the whole time, softens subtly at the contact with the blade.

"The hell was that?" he asks out loud while exchanging a few consternated looks with other people, then slides his fingers over his cheek, through his short beard. He doesn't look scared- that's the thing about Marc that comes to Steven's mind as a first thought whenever he thinks of words to describe the American alter -, he never does, his facial expression comes as far as to a display of unease, but he never shows fright. It's like he doesn't even feel it, though they know he does, he simply keeps it to himself, knowing too well not to show any of his weaknesses to the outer world as it's full of people only waiting for a chance to use them against him.

So that's what he does, remains neutral on the outside, stone-cold even, as he's offering his hand to some women still sitting on the ground in shock. 

"Steven, what'd you do?"  He breathes out voicelessly through a clenched jaw, just before asking an old lady if she's alright and whether she needs help getting back home.

It wasn’t me, so it’s either you or there’s another alter you didn’t care to tell me about, pal.

His alter's voice sounds different, he thinks to himself and his brows knit in wonder. The accent doesn't seem to fit his British headmate, there's something off about this one sentence, but he shakes his head at the thought and pushes it to the back of his mind, blaming the weird feeling on aftershock. 

"Very funny" is the only comment Marc leaves him with. 

He's less confused than the rest of the strangers gathered around him, that's for sure, simply because he's used to sudden blackouts at this point, so it takes him way less time to collect himself and restart his morning walk to work. That's what it felt like - a blackout. Agonisingly painful blackout.

Now working in a different museum, the Sir John Soane's Museum, they decided not to use the bus to get there, but take it as an opportunity to get some fresh air before and after work. This time isn't any different; Marc takes their regular path, picks up the pace only a little bit, out of his body instincts and learned routines, and after a few long minutes he's almost halfway there. He doesn't look at anyone and anything, as if tunnel-visioned, hands shoved down his pockets, head lowered and focused on the way shortly ahead of him. He's not interested in anything related to the outer world, hasn't been in a long time, so it feels out of character for him to look around and drink up the view and the atmosphere of the city of London. The sun seems to burn his skin, it's blinding and sharp, and painful, and he doesn't belong there, in the light of it. It's not his place, it's Steven's, and he spends his whole trip thinking about how badly he'd want to switch places with his alter, be able to hide again, be able to let go of all these mundane responsibilities. For a split second, he even considers triggering Steven back to the command of the body. And this one thought shocks him to his core, leading him to crouch for a minute at the puffin crossing. 

The heels of his palms dig into his eye sockets as he exhales with frustration at his own attitude.

He's tired, he decides after crushing an intrusive thought to throw himself under a speeding car.

He just needs some rest, he assures himself while making his way across the street.

It will go away, he mouths with a shaky breath, dipping his fingers into his messy curls and pulling not so slightly, just to be sure that it's all real; that he still can feel something physical.

It's gonna be alright, he hums silently as he stands at the museum's entrance, and before walking right in, he takes out his wallet and checks if he has both his real ID and Steven's fake one, just in case.

And Gods, is he wrong.

***

Marc is leaning against the counter, with both elbows resting on a shiny white surface, fingers of one hand tapping on it edgily, the ones of the other alternately tugging soft hair on his forehead and rubbing his temple. He's surrounded by books, stuff made by artisans, and objects such as scarves, jewellery or decorative accessories including, but not limited to plastic miniatures of the museum, figurines of exhibits, or even tableware inspired by the museum's themes.

The small screen before him reads one sentence Marc has already read multiple times, laughing at him from the greenish background.

enter security code

After getting past inserting Steven's employee ID he thought nothing else would surprise him, and yet he's here, unable to log into the system he's supposed to work on. Part of him regrets all of his life choices, especially the one he made not to pay attention to his alter's responsibilities throughout Steven's gift shop clerk career, opting to stay hidden during his shifts and gather energy for his nightly missions with Khonshu. He spent all these years limiting his share in the process to checking in on Steven whenever things got nasty, and occasionally taking over the body after the other's extra hours to ensure his safety on the way back to their flat. Other than that, instead of at least learning the basics in case of the situations like the one he finds himself in at the moment, he was happily burying himself deep in the back of their head the second his headmate put his foot inside the British Museum.

A different part of him, on the other hand, is actually glad he doesn't know the code, simply because by this moment he's already painfully aware of his lack of ability to operate a cash register, as well as his lack of proper manners needed in the area of customer service.

He's screwed, he decides while pressing some random numbers on the keyboard, audibly or not, he doesn't really care. Having learned the hard way to think twice the next time he volunteers to replace the British guy at work, Marc groans at the thought of being defeated by the machine as he flutters his eyes shut and sighs in relief at how pleasant the darkness proves to be contrary to the blinding bright lights hitting him mercilessly from every angle.

For a brief moment, he feels at ease.

Brief, because after what seems to last only a short minute, he hears footsteps approaching him from the side and feels fingertips curling around his bicep. Without giving it a second thought, he relies on pure instinct when he takes a sudden turn to his face the intruder, combat mode kicking right in. He throws his right arm to his opponent's cross tricep, hand gripping the meat there tightly, while his left arm goes to their same side wrist. In one second he pulls the tricep, shoots his left wrist inward and pushes it through the wrist which easily grants him control of the whole arm. Another second later he curls the wrist, comes over to put his hand on the elbow, then slips the left hand up into the tricep area, grabbing it while pulling down on the elbow, and just like that, in a blink of an eye he holds his attacker in a strong armlock that has their arm behind their back with their wrist out their mid-back and their tricep in a steely grip. Marc puts his free arm around their neck which results in keeping them tight, and only when a strand of their cocoa-brown hair tangles between his fingers and they gasp loudly, does he realise that he's not in danger, and that most likely he's holding one of Steven's female coworkers.

Now he's definitely screwed, he thinks to himself as he mutters a ghost of a sound that takes the form of the word 'fuck'.

[angellesword]

YOUR EYES TELL | JJK (10)

Summary: You live in a world where people see in black and white. The solution to finally see the colors? It's simple. You need to meet your soulmate and look at him in the eyes, but what if the person bound to you is already contented with the monochromatic world? What if...Jeongguk, your soulmate, is already in love with someone else?

Alternatively:

"A future without you is a world without color."

Genre: soulmate au, e2l, slow burn, angst, fluff, roommate au

Pairing: Artist!Jungkook x Lawyer!Reader

Word Count: 2.9k

SERIES: CHAPTER 9  | CHAPTER 11

Note: I just wanna dedicate this chapter to @jooniebugg coz your feedback in Your Eyes Tell (09) is <333 and it inspired me to write chapter 10! some lines in this update is my response to your comment heheh :*

You were not in trouble, but Jeongguk was.

"Guk," Jimin let out a breath as he closed his eyes. "Slow down, okay? I can't understand what you're saying."

But Jeongguk couldn't do it. He was sobbing uncontrollably that Jimin literally had to tell him to breathe.

Jeongguk tried to follow the instruction of his best friend's boyfriend. Breathe. It should be easy, right? He only needed to stop thinking about you in able to breathe properly.

Unfortunately, it was difficult to get you out of his mind.

"You good?"

Your soulmate nodded even though Jimin couldn't see his face. They're currently talking over the phone. Jimin called him after finding out what happened during the trial.

It was all over the news. Countless of articles were published online. Most of them were unreliable and full of speculations.

Jimin gave up after reading one sentence. He knew he had to call you to know the truth—or at least the fragments of truth. Jimin wasn't really interested in the case; he was only interested to know what was up with you.

Were you alright?

Jimin found some of your decisions in life questionable, yet he didn't say anything. He remained tight-lipped when you told him about your entangled fate not only with Jeongguk, but also with your assistant and client.

Just like your soulmate, Jimin could not understand why you were trying to defend Kim Seokjin. Their reason was different though. Jeongguk's thoughts were selfish. Jimin, on the contrary, was plain curious.

Why were you so invested in this case?

Was it because of your stubborn nature? Jimin knew that once you set your mind into something, you wouldn't stop until you won.

Jimin only learned to accept your competitive side when he realized that you were raised this way.

You didn't choose to be like this. You were actually forced to be like this. This being the case, Jimin was only able to release an exhausted breath after Jeongguk told him what happened in the courtroom.

Some might say that you pushed too hard, but this didn't give Mrs. Kim the right to hurt you.

"It's my fault, hyung. I wasn't there to protect her." Jeongguk bit the inside of his cheek.

It had been an hour since you locked yourself in your room and Jeongguk wasn't sure whether to comfort you or to just leave you alone.

It felt like you preferred the latter option. Jimin told your soulmate that you weren't answering your phone, an obvious indication that you didn't want to talk to anyone. This was also the reason why Jimin decided to just call Jeongguk to know if you were okay.

You weren't.

It was weird, but Jeongguk was positive he could feel your heart breaking. If this was any other day, he was sure that he would simply ignore this, but something definitely changed. Jeongguk didn't know why, but he had this intense urge to embrace you—to make you feel better.

"But you can protect her now, Guk. It will be hard, but please..." Jimin begged your soulmate. He didn't want to burden Jeongguk; however, the latter was the only person who could comfort you right now.

As much as Jimin wanted to embrace you, he couldn't. He was in Busan, his hometown, at the moment. Jimin was processing some important documents because he's planning to ask Taehyung to marry him.

"W-What can I do to make her feel better?" Jeongguk stammered. He's nervous, but he's decided. He couldn't let you go through this alone. It hadn't even been a day, yet he already missed your goofy side.

"You're a smart boy, Jeon. You'll figure out what she wants."

What do you want?

Jeongguk's heart was recoiling once again. He realized that he never knew what you wanted since you were always catering what others wanted.

You were a people pleaser.

"But if nothing works, just call her parents." This was Jimin's last reminder before ending the call.

Your soulmate didn't understand why Jimin thought it would be a good idea to call your parents. Jeongguk was pretty sure he could bring the smile back on your face without the help of anyone. He just needed to make sure you were not in some kind trouble first.

Jeongguk opened your laptop to send an email to your boss and other clients, telling them that you were taking a break from work.

Jeongguk was tired by the end of the week. Jimin was right. It was difficult to help you get back on your feet, mainly because you weren't trying.

You stayed in bed most of the time, you barely touched your food, and he felt like you didn't even want to live.

You looked so unmotivated that in the end, Jeongguk decided to just message your parents and invite them to your apartment—this was the reason why he was in trouble.

"You can't just do this without consulting me, Jeongguk."

His scowl deepened when you called him using his given name. You only did this when you were serious or mad. In this case, he figured out that you were mad—or at least he thought you were mad. Your voice was rough, similar to the tone you used when you were inside the courtroom.

Jeongguk was scared.

He was scared to upset you again.

"But Jimin-hyung told me to call your parents!" He reasoned out. Blaming your best friend was the only way Jeongguk could think of so that he could finally escape your piercing glare.

It worked.

Your expression softened a bit, though this didn't mean that he wasn't in trouble anymore.

"Jeongguk," this time your voice sounded tired.

"Y-Yes?" He pretended like he was busy sweeping the floor. Everything needed to be perfect because your parents would be here shortly.

You already accepted your tragic fate. It was decided. You were going to meet your mother and father today.

Damn it.

"Why did you block Hoseok's number?"

You saw how Jeongguk froze after hearing your question. No doubt, he was guilty.

"I-I didn't do it!" He lied.

You narrowed your eyes at him.

"You're not a good liar..." Amusement was now dancing in your voice.

Jeongguk had been using your phone to respond to your prospective clients. These people just didn't know how to stop. They kept texting your personal number even though Jeongguk told them that you were on a leave.

Your phone didn't have a passcode that's why he was able to freely access it.

You didn't mind. In fact, you were grateful. He saved your career. If he didn't send a notice of leave to your boss, you were sure you're gonna get fired.

"I'm not lying!" His lips protruded into a sulky pout. "I didn't send those messages!"

"Huh." You arched your brow. "But I only asked why you blocked Hoseok. I didn't say you texted him using my number."

Jeongguk's eyes went wide.

He was instantly busted.

"H-He was spamming you with useless messages!"

"I don't think so," you shook your head as you read the conversation. His excuse just kept on getting worse.

 "Wow. You're cold," you could imagine Hoseok's disbelief upon seeing the thumbs up emoji. It was actually apparent by your friend's response.

 "Jeongguk..." You called his name again.

"What!?" Why was he getting annoyed?

"You don't want Hoseok to kiss me?"

Jeongguk looked like the emoji he sent to Hoseok.

"And why would I want that!?" His chest was heaving up and down. You couldn't see, but his face was as red as tomatoes.

You suddenly laughed, causing Jeongguk's heart to swell in joy. This was the first time he heard you laugh after weeks of getting used to your impassive face.

Were you finally moving on?

Jeongguk guessed you were. Your expression literally changed the moment your parents arrived.

You looked happy to see them—too happy that Jeongguk felt like he was only imagining your annoyed expression a short while ago.

Didn't you say you hated the fact that he invited your parents to your place?

You did say that. Unfortunately Jeongguk had no idea how much you hated talking to your mom.

You swore you loved her with all of your heart, though her principles were different from what you believed in. It was draining to pretend like you agree with her.

"So how's the case you've been handling, sweetheart?" Your mother's sweet smile made you cringe.

It hadn't been long since she pulled you inside your room to 'talk.'

Your parents had already met Jeongguk. As expected, they loved him. Your soulmate made it very easy to like him. Perhaps it was because of his eyes. Damn those big, doe eyes. It never failed to make your heart melt.

"Good." You walked towards your bedroom door. "Let's go back to the kitchen. I think Jeongguk prepared some desserts."

"Dessert could wait, dear." Your mom offered you another sickening smile. It was the kind of smile that told you to give up. She always had her way of making you follow what she wanted you to do.

"Come on, eomma." You laughed nervously as you told her that your soulmate was excited to let her try his yaksik, a popular dessert that your mom truly loved.

You didn't know how Jeongguk found out your mother's favorite dessert. You just knew that you were willing to eat dozens of yaksik just to get away from your mom. You didn't even care if your stomach was still full after eating the lunch your soulmate had cooked.

Your mom only shrugged her shoulders as if she didn't hear what you said.

"Tell me about the Kim's case." She demanded as she meticulously inspected your wardrobe.

Your heartbeat doubled.

It was easy to simply give into what she desired because you were certain that she wouldn't stop anyway.

Sadly you couldn't speak—not anymore. Not when you knew how all of this would go.

You wanted to move on from this nightmare on your own. All your life, you relied upon what your mother would say.

"You can't be sad over this. It's nothing compared to what I've been through!"

"Stop crying. You just think you're hurt. You're not."

"No. You can't. That shows weakness."

These were some of the things your mother would say whenever you encountered problems in life. She honed you to be this strong person who wasn't allowed to mope.

You remembered her telling you that it was insensitive of you to cry over little things when it was clear that so many people had it worse than you.

This was exactly why you didn't want to meet your mother today. She would force you to stop feeling bad about Seokjin's case since it was petty.

It was funny actually. People admired you for always ignoring the pain you felt.

You found this toxic. It felt like you were expected to be strong—making you feel like you should heal right away and not with your own pace. This was also the reason why you found it hard to open up to people, even if you were really close to that someone.

Your mother made you feel like there would always be some kind of adversary when it came to handling inconveniences in life. Sometimes you wished people would shut up and just listen. You didn't always need advice. What you wanted was for them to stop quantifying pain because people had different tolerance when it came to feeling what's painful and what's not.

"I think I lost," it took everything not to cry in front of her. At the end of the day, you were still afraid to be perceived as weak.

She had that much control over you.

"Why did you lose?" Her voice was stone cold.

Your response was automatic. You told her what happened during the trial in spite of telling yourself that you would never get swayed by her authoritarian nature anymore.

"You don’t have to answer. I know now why you lost." She crossed her arms as she shook her head at you.

"Didn't I tell you? You lost because you didn't acquire enough knowledge." She proceeded to tell you what you already knew.

Your mom always said that knowledge is power, but the word "knowledge" that was delicately tattooed on your Achilles heel said otherwise.

For you, knowledge is downfall. This was why you chose to have that word tattooed on your Achilles heel—a part of your body that symbolized fatal weakness.

You were working as an auditor before you decided to go to law school. You knew this field inside out and it came with a price. You helped a firm conceal fraudulent acts using your knowledge.

It was a dangerous thing. Your mom tolerated your unprofessionalism since she was a major stockholder in the said company. She actually pushed you to continue the misrepresentation; however, you were guilty.

You couldn't do it anymore. You couldn't use the power you acquired to fool people. Law school taught you to uphold justice, but you were blinded once again.

You failed to see the impact of your actions to Soobin, an innocent soul. Maybe your mother was right. You were bound to fail your law career. Maybe you should just go back to the corporate world and help billionaires to achieve their disgusting scheme.

"Sorry," you swallowed hard, looking straight into your mother's eyes. "I'll do better."

"You should be." She gritted her teeth as she continued to invalidate your emotions.

You wondered when the torture would stop. You just wanna lie in bed and sleep the pain away. Luckily Jeongguk came knocking on your door, saving you from your mother's poisonous words.

"Wait," Jeongguk stopped you from following your mom to the living room.

"What's wrong?" He cupped your face; worry was evident in his eyes. You looked like you were in pain.

Did your mother say something to you? Jeongguk wondered.

"Nothing." But you brushed him off before he could ask.

Jeongguk pursed his lips into a thin line. He swore something was wrong, but he didn't want to push it since it was clear that you were not in the mood to talk about it.

But he couldn't stay still knowing that you were bothered. This being the case, he went out of his way just to make you smile.

Jeongguk was being such a good boy. He kept on praising you in front your parents. He was also respectful towards them. His jokes were appropriate and he smiled so kindly at them.

His lingering touch on your wrist, waist, and shoulders didn't go unnoticed by you. It was like he was guarding you from any possible danger.

"What do you think about this, my sweet daughter?" Your father showed you his artwork with a proud smile.

You chuckled.

Jeongguk was teaching your father how to draw.

"You did great, Appa!" You weren't lying. He had done a good job sketching The Hulk.

"Really? What about the color? Do you like it?"

You nodded eagerly. It wouldn't hurt to lie, right?

"I like the shade of green that you used."

You were expecting your father to smile back because of your compliment. Sadly, he only stared at you blankly.

"What?"  A nervous giggle escaped your lips.

Your parents and even Jeongguk were making you feel awkward. Why were they looking at you like you were a poor, poor soul?

"This Hulk is color pink." Your father said softly, making your breathing hitch.

He was trying to show contrast. The Hulk was the personification of rage. He colored him pink because in your world, the mentioned color symbolized gentleness. He wanted you to see in his drawing that people should be gentle even though they're angry.

You ruined it.

They probably know by now that you were lying when you said earlier that you could see colors.

Why did you even lie?

Why couldn't you just tell them that Jeongguk wasn't in love with you?

"Ah," you scratched the back of your head. "Is it pink? Sorry, Appa. I'm still trying to learn colors."

Your lie was understandable. You told your parents that you met Jeongguk a few months ago. It was impossible to know all colors in a short period of time.

You knew you weren't a great liar, but damn. When you looked at Jeongguk, he was smiling as he mouthed, "it is okay," to you.

He was saying that you were doing well, that you didn't ruin what your father had been wishing for: he wanted you to be loved by your soulmate.

You felt like Jeongguk loved you.

You couldn't stop staring at your soulmate as he continued to smile brightly at you.

In this moment, you swore you could see the brown in his eyes.

Or so you thought.

You just couldn't have one peaceful day, could you?

"N-No..." Your voice broke, tears falling down on the sheet of paper you were holding.

Your parents already left. Jeongguk was kind enough to drive them back to their hotel.

You were alone in the house.

The paper in your hand was mocking you, telling you that you would forever be alone in this house.

TRANSFER OF OWNERSHIP IN A CONTRACT TO SELL Vendee Jeon Jeongguk of  Room 13, Apartment X, Seoul, South Korea—you stopped reading the next words.

You couldn't believe it.

Jeon Jeongguk was going to leave you.

[imsociallyanxiousgetoverit]

—

Fic Writer Question Meme

Thank you to @missroserose :) their post is the one I saw first

TW for all my fics! Any fic I link probably has at least one common trigger in it and at the time of writing it I may not have properly labeled it.

—

How many works do you have on Ao3?

63 are published on Ao3, I believe 38 on FF, and maybe 5 on Tumblr? I have over ~1800 WIPs unpublished as some of my WIPs are published amid those websites/apps

—

What’s your total Ao3 word count?

200k, uh 206,726 to be exact

—

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

uh, lemme count my folders in Notes…. a minimum of 63… Holy Crow 63 again. I’m still gonna go count the specifics too cuz some of these are huge groupings like MCU or Disney. Okay so 63 + 53 is 116 I think? So 116 fandoms? oh god wait what are they? ill make a list,,,

Fandoms I’ve Written For:

A Quiet Place, Aladdin, Alice in Wonderland, Atlantis: The Lost Empire, Barbie, Beauty and the Beast, Big Hero Six, Jump, Brave,

Cinderella (all), Encanto, Ever After High, Frozen, HTTYD, The Little Mermaid (all), Luca, Moana, RotG, Robots (2005), Sing, Tangled, The Incredibles,

Toy Story (3-4), Winx, Zootopia, The Umbrella Academy, Castle, The Flash, BTS, The Nutcracker, Subnautica, FNAF:SB, Spiritfarer, ATLA, Gravity Falls, I Am Mother,

Corpse, Cartoonz, Delirious, Irish/Spooky!Lads, Gab Smolders, LilyPichu, Micheal Reeves, Markiplier, Amy Nelson,

The Last of Us, CrankGamePlays, GassyMexican, Smii7y, Kryoz, Thomas Sanders, Julie & the Phantoms, Other Kpop, The Three Female Runaways,

Squid Game, Train to Busan, Switchcraft, Professor Layton, Undertale, Dimension 20, Power Rangers, BBC Merlin, Sanders Sides, PJO/HOO, Slugterra,

Minecraft (not mcyt), Stardew, Animal Crossing, Terraria, Ouran Highschool Host Club, Criminal Minds, Supernatural, Legend of Zelda/Linked Universe,

Danny Phantom, Doctor Who, Maze Runner, Teen Wolf, Limitless (TV), Steven Universe, Princess Debut, Sense 8, City of Ember, Bomberman R+, Arcane,

League of Legends, Overwatch, A Little Princess, Whale Rider, SCP, Edith Finch, GTFO, Scott Pilgrim, Emily the Strange,

Pitch Perfect, Spongebob, Stranger Things, The Old Guard, Tinkerbell, True and the Rainbow Kingdom, Seed, Almost Human, Aerial Magic, Fatal Frame,

The OA, The Runaways, She-Ra, Secret Society of Second Born Royals, Divergent, Voltron, MLP, Hogwarts, Firefly/Serenity,

Drake Hollow, Resident Evil, Humans are Weird, Pokemon, Good Omens, Monsters Inc/Uni, Beyond: Two Souls, Young Justice, Slime Rancher, Avengers (all), Iron Man (all), Spider-Man (all), Loki, WandaVision, Eternals,

Shang-Chi, Doctor Strange, Dead by Daylight, Don’t Starve, & more I couldnt find cuz theyre only in Crossovers lol

—

What are your top 5 fics by Kudos?

1. [All Inclusive Twitter Memes]

2. [Autistic!Character Ideas & Stories]

3. [☂️👶🏻👶🏼]

4. [Standing Up Again]

5. [Night Valen in New York]

These are still pretty surprising to me. The Twitter fic is expected, so is the Autism fic, but the last three really are out of left field

—

Do you respond to comments, why or why not?

Yes! Absolutely. I don’t fully know how to explain both my feelings and the psychology behind why I respond to comments; but know I’m very passionate about doing so!

—

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

Phew, uh, lemme look actually cuz most Angst fics are triggering for me so I never finish them- okay so TW obviously. The angstiest ending I think I’ve ever written (I THINK) is the character revealing their c/s/a to family members

—

Do you write Crossovers? If so, what is the craziest one you’ve written?

I write almost exclusively in Crossovers lmfao. I have a folder literally named Pandora’s Box where I put my fics that need multiple notes just to keep track. Lemme go find the most complex one,,,

okay so my bestie and I are working on a fic with tens of characters from VERY different places who are all villians and are attending a mental hospital (its legitimate, not a horror fic. I’ve been in one so we’re making it as realistic as we can without it being too triggering or unfun)

—

Have you ever recieved hate on a fic?

I don’t know… I take a lot of criticism as hate even though it’s not so I don’t really remember the bad ones anymore. I keep comments that make me happy in my inbox for bad days.

—

Do you write Smut? If so, what kind?

Yes, although I rarely post it. I’m not very good at it so it’s mostly fics about very specific kinks I’ve fantisized about and are having the characters act out in my place.

—

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

I don’t think so. I may have blocked it out if it did occur.

—

Have you ever had a fic translated?

No, though I’m fully welcome to that.

—

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

The fic I mentioned previously is my first project with someone else. I don’t write well with many people so, my bestie is really my only option.

—

What’s your all-time favorite ship?

Probably “Ineffable Husbands”. I’ve felt so much comfort from canon, fanfiction, and the fandom. I learned to love my body because of fanart of Aziraphale.

—

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

It’s a fic from like 2015. I’m partially ashamed of it and partially obsessed still. I won’t describe it due to being embarrassed by it’s current state.

I do plan to try rewriting it though. Just recently I discovered it again and considered posting it as it was just to free myself from it.

—

What are your writing strengths?

I really don’t know? I like to think I’m good at Titles and Summaries, but I have evidence against that. Sometimes, I feel like my crossover ideas, the links and connections I find, are very unique. I don’t even know what you’d call that besides Creativity though.

—

What are your writing weaknesses?

I was gonna say the genres Angst and Smut. Then, I was gonna mention my grammar. In the end though, I think I struggle to characterize and choose one rule of logic to follow.

I’m far too logical one moment and competely uncaring of logic the next. I also project onto characters far too much sometimes. In my opinion, anyway.

If you’ve read my fics I welcome you to express what my weakness (and strength) is because I’m biased.

—

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

Yes. Just, Yes. I’m currently working on a fic where the characters speak a mix of 3 dialects of Spanish and Quechua.

The fic is in English of course because I’m not fluent in any of those languages, but I’m writing songs for the fic in those languages and interspersing famous proverbs people tend to use (like “dont judge a book by its cover” but the spanish equivalent) throughout the fic

—

What was the first fandom you wrote for?

Young Justice probably. I don’t remember if I wrote fanfics before I learned what it was. I imagine I may have written for Winx when I was in Elementary, but I didn’t know it was fic so i can’t recall it now

—

What’s your favorite fic you’ve written?

Oh this is difficult. On FF my favorite has always been [One Death, Two Scars].

On Ao3…. godex I love these a lot: [Loss of the Wild], [Indulgence], [Secrets….Shhh], [An Unknown Chance], [Love Like You], [Father], [Atlantis: The Lost Wilds], [A Beauty, A Beast, and Some Princes], [Pidge]…. but if I have to pick One???

I really don’t know ahhh. I didn’t even include any of the WIPs… I adore [Modern Medicine], oh and [Secret Memories] oh I truly love this one, I like [What’s Left of Us] and [A Seer’s Trance] a lot… [Changed Fate] is good. I haven’t mentioned a lot of the fics I’m proud of because I’m similtaneously a little embarrassed by the current state of writing,,, but

I just love a lot of my work. I learned a time ago that every piece of work you make is valuable in your progression as a writer. To love myself, I have to love what I create, too. Well, not all of it, but I have to appreciate what the fic has done for me to grow from it.

I like [Confident In Love], [“Crossovers”] is great, [Accidental Burn] is so good, and [Brick by Brick a Family is] is definitely absolutely one of my favorites.

I have a fic just called [🌲💫🗯] that I love (actually any of my Gravity Falls fics I love probably). [Good Parenting 101] is sweet, [Subversions] is like [Indulgence] lol very self indulgent- OH and I havent even mention how many of my Stardew Valley fics for my OC Aluna are so good! Though I don’t know if I’ve ever posted them,,,, oh I also have a completely different fic called [Subversions] thats very different lmao

[Shaking] makes me happy, [Captain America: Falcon’s Call] is definitely a fic I want to finish someday, [The True Iron Legion] is ahhh I love it- okay I need to stop lol I love too many of my fics to keep listing them! I really hope you’ll check them out though,,, I love them a lot.

Nevermind, One more!!! I forgot about [정말 너무 혼란스러 (Never leave me alone)]. Oh screw it. I’m gonna keep recommending my favorites. [Heroes Endgame] is a bit dramatic but It took a lot of work to think about lol. Honestly any of my Luca fics I think are pretty good. I think [‘Ohahu Anu] is really creative. Most my Encanto fics are decent or great.

[donutloverxo]

Secret

Kinktober day 10 - Nipple piercings

Summary - Steve is tired of waiting. You reveal your dirty secret to him.

Warnings - 18+ smut(m/f), nipple piercings on the reader.

Pairing - Steve Rogers x reader

Word count - 1253

Masterlist is linked in the bio!

Usually Steve didn’t look forward to going back to his lonely Brooklyn brownstone. He wanted to keep working, to keep himself occupied so his mind wouldn’t go to dark places or deal with the myriad of problems he actively tried to avoid.

But now, after being away from you for a month, he literally couldn’t think of anything better than to just go home and hold you close to him as he falls asleep, surrounded by your soothing scent and soft body.

He loved the safe home you provided him with your mere presence. You were so unmarred by the darkness this whole world seemed to possess. His light at the end of the tunnel. So wholesome and adorable.

When he told you he’d be back that evening you so eagerly promised you’d wait for him and let yourself into his apartment by using the key he gave you. You sweetly told him that you’d have a hot meal ready for him and suggestively offered to give him a nice massage to unwind.

“Hey, doll?” he called out to you as he tossed his jacket on the back of his couch.

He walked in on you panicking in his kitchen over a burnt chicken. He laughed shaking his head, he certainly wasn’t with you for your cooking skills.

You gasped as soon as you looked up at him. “Shit! I mean no – I don’t curse – Steve I was just uh… I was going to order chinese but then I thought you’d appreciate a home cooked mean,” you sniffled as tears brimmed in your eyes, so ashamed of your failure and frustrated that your efforts amounted to nothing.

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” he cooed as he walked closer to you “aren’t ya gonna give me a hug?” he grinned as he opened his arms and braced himself as you jumped into his arms, nuzzling your face in his neck.

“I’m sorry,” you dried your wet cheeks as he rubbed your back to sooth you “I did make you some brownies though.”

“It’s okay, baby. I ate when we got back. You know I have to eat every few hours,” you nodded in the crook of his neck “I just…”

“What?” you pulled back so you could look at his face.

“Can we cuddle for a bit? I just,” he cleared his throat “I missed you so much.”

“Okay.” You giggled as he put you down, taking off your baby blue apron and following him to his bed.

***

He knew he shouldn’t complain. He asked for this. As much as he liked spooning you from behind, where he could unabashedly smell your hair, he absolutely could not take you wiggling your supple ass against his erection any longer.

Fuck it all to hell.

He held onto your hip, digging his fingers into your skin through the thin material of your pink sundress and rutted his arousal up into you and between your cheeks.

“Oh,” you gasped. Completely taken aback. “St – Steve “

“I can’t take it anymore, doll.” He purred in your ear as he snaked a hand up your torso to squeeze your breast. He groaned at the feeling while he kept humping you like a horny teenager. To be fair that’s what you always managed to reduce him to.

“Why wait, babe. Hm?” he asked as he sneaked his hand up your skirt, cupping your clothed mould. “Do you not trust me?” he asked as he traced your folds through your panties, his voice laced with sadness.

You both had been together for months, he was afraid to go on such a long mission and how it might affect your relationship. He had given you his heart and soul yet you refused to share your body with him.

He was a patient man, he would wait even forever because he knew it would be worth it. But sometimes he just needed to fuck you so hard, needed to feel you and take you in the most carnal way possible. Love you so good you wouldn’t be able to walk for a whole week.

“Steve, you know I trust you,” you whimpered as you felt him press his fingers on your clit “but I just – I’m afraid you won’t like me.” you confessed.

He scoffed incredulously “Why would you ever believe such a ridiculous thing?” he stopped his assault on your pussy and breast to turn you so you were on your back. He propped himself on his elbow as he stared you down.

Angry with himself that he was such a terrible boyfriend. For you to ever think for a second that he wouldn’t love every part of your body. “I love you. All of you.” he swore.

You swallowed “I know but you won’t if you found out…”

“What?” he asked quirking a brow.

“It’s probably better if I show you – I think…” you sat up and mustered up enough strength to push your dress off your shoulders, revealing your top half to him, you had decided to go braless since you knew you’d just end up spending the night at Steve’s.

You shivered under his intense gaze as he stared at your breast and your nipples pierced with pink hoops, his mouth agape and pupils blown. You couldn’t really gauge his reaction but you decided that he was probably shocked.

Suddenly feeling subconscious you covered your breasts with your hands, you couldn’t even look at him so you simply stared at his lap “I know you’re from the, you know 40s, so I thought you wouldn’t like these kind of things. Not to mention I can’t cook for the life of me!” you rolled your eyes at your own incompetence, “I’d understand if you never wanted to see me of - ”

“When did you get them?” he cut you off swatting your hands away so he could ogle your breasts some more. He swallowed tentatively running his thumb over your hardened bud causing you to arch your back into his touch.

“Uh – a few years ago. I’m just not someone you’d expect to have piercings you know? So it was like my dirty little secret.” you replied breathlessly as he took a nip into his mouth and suckled on it, pinching the other one.

“Did it hurt?” he released just long enough to ask the before going back to sucking, your soft warm skin and the cold metal a delicious contrast.

“Yeah a bit,” you gasped feeling him bite down on your bud.

“Can you take them out?” he leaned back to admire his work. He fondled your breasts, weighing them in his hands.

“Yes, I can. I can even switch them. I have a pair of silver bars - ”

“No, I like these better. Will it hurt if I pull on it?”

“Not that much.” you shook your head as he laid you back on the mattress.

Hastily but graciously he pulled you out of your dress and panties before undressing himself.

He was much to impatient to be inside you to properly eat you out but he had to taste you and get you ready. He lapped up your folds until you were screaming his name at the top of your lungs and gushing over his mouth.

He groaned as he sank into your heat. Bringing your hips up as he knelt before you. Driving himself into you and fucking you thoroughly and rapidly. All just so he could see your titts and those damn hoops bounce.

Comments and reblogs are really appreciated❤

Please note that my work is not to be reposted or published anywhere other than my Tumblr or AO3 account without my permission. Reblogs are most welcome though!

[fantastic-bby]

Illuminate The Ocean (Teaser)

Teaser details

Pairing (F)Reader x Seonghwa (Reader doesn't appear in the teaser)

Word count: 1.9k

Genre: Fluff | Pirate!ATEEZ

Summary: Seonghwa absolutely hates the idea of having a new captain on board 'Precious' with him and his crew, but he doesn't have a choice because you had insisted. You have a feeling that he isn't as bad as he makes himself seem and you're proven right through nightmares and colourful jellyfish...

Warnings: -

Publish date of full fic: 6th June

Overall word count: 15.1K

Genre: Fluff | Mild angst | Romance | Slow Burn | Enemies to Lovers | Pirate!ATEEZ | Pirate!Reader

Masterlist

“What?” Seonghwa looks at Hongjoong in confusion, his eyebrows knit together in the middle of his forehead.

“We’re being hired for a mission by another crew. They were in the middle of planning to steal from the royal palace, but their entire crew was injured in a gunfight with another team of pirates.” He grunts as he drops the box onto the ground and starts looking through the unopened envelopes on his desk. “The problem is that they’re asking that we pick their captain up from the southern port and let her join us on the mission.”

“Why in the world would they need their captain to follow?” he scoffs. “We already have one captain—we don’t need another one.”

“I know. That’s exactly what I told them,” Hongjoong mutters. The displeasure is plainly written on his face because he feels like he’s being underestimated. “I told them that she’s allowed to join and that I’ll have someone who will make sure she knows her way around.” He looks up at Seonghwa and crosses his arms over his chest.

Sensing the tone, Seonghwa’s eyes widen and he immediately shakes his head. “No, no, I refuse.”

“Come on, Hwa, you haven’t even heard it yet.”

“You have that twisted look on your face. I’m not going to be her little guide.” The pirate shakes his head adamantly, arms raising in the air. He should’ve known that Hongjoong would trust him to keep the other captain in check.

“You’re my right hand man, who else would I ask?” Hongjoong snorts a laugh. “What? You think that San and Wooyoung can keep their eyes on her? Those two have the same sex drive as a bunch of rabbits. They see a pretty lady and it’s straight up like a fucking mast. Lord forbid we get Mingi and Yunho to watch her. They wouldn’t even say yes in the first place because they’d end up tripping and dragging her off of the ship with them.”

“What about Yeosang?” Seonghwa raises an eyebrow. “He’s decent.”

“He would say something that’ll make her kill all of us,” he absentmindedly says as he slides a knife along the top of one of the brown envelopes, pulling the letter out and reading through it.

“Jongho! He’s your favourite! He’d do a good job!” His hands clasped together in front of him and Seonghwa’s about ready to just drop to the ground and start begging on his knees, but Hongjoong’s too occupied with reading the letter to actually give his crewmate any mind . “Joong, as much as I love being your favourite member, I really don’t want to be in charge of another captain. I already have to take care of you and make sure you don’t accidentally shoot yourself with your own gun.”

“Hey!” Hongjoong scoffs. “That was one time. This isn’t up for discussion, Seonghwa. You have to bring her around the ship and make sure that she’s familiar with Precious.”

“I can’t believe you’re letting this happen,” Seonghwa clicks his tongue in annoyance. Hongjoong’s hand suddenly comes slamming down onto the table, the loud sound making the older man jump in surprise.

“Do you think that I would’ve willingly let this happen?!” he snaps. “I wholeheartedly believe that our crew can do this on our own, but conditions are conditions and this mission is worth a lot. Now, shut your yapping and go make sure the damn ship is heading in the right direction while I read this.” Hongjoong gives him one last stern look before sitting down and lifting the glasses that hang around his neck to his eyes.

Seonghwa exhales sharply before leaving his quarters. His black boots are loud against the wood of the pirate ship and he makes his way over to the main mast where he stares out at the gently moving ocean. The breeze is gentle as he brushes past him, but it’s strong enough that it picks up his white coat. There’s the familiar sound of footsteps landing onto the desk and Seonghwa turns around to see the tallest pair of the crew behind him.

“Hey, hyung!” Yunho chirps when he sees the eldest crew member.

“Why the long face?” Mingi questions when he sees the annoyed look on Seonghwa’s face.

“We have to work with another captain and I’m the one that’ll have to bring her around,” he huffs.

“Ooh, sounds fun! New people are fun!” Yunho excitedly says, earning a tired look from Seonghwa.

“It’s… you know what? Never mind,” he sighs. “How long until we reach the mainland?”

“By Yeosang’s calculations, we should reach the port by the end of the week. The skies look angry today, hyung. Chance of a storm.” Mingi pulls a compass out of his pocket, his finger tapping on the glass of it when it doesn’t move. Everyone on the ship thinks he should really get a new one to stop them from getting lost, but the pirate is insistent on keeping this one until he can’t use it at all. “I was in contact with the Stray Kids crew and Seungmin says that they’ve just gotten caught in a storm. He asks that we either wait it out until they give us the signal to go or to brace through the storm.”

“Are they heading to the same port?”

Mingi nods, “they just finished an assassination in the West. They’re not too far ahead from us, but far enough that they’re able to give us a heads up on whatever they see.” Seonghwa nods as he faces South, noting how the clouds seem slightly darker along the horizon. He turns back around to look at the tall pair.

“I’ve adjusted the sails to handle any kind of strong weather just in case it comes before we anticipate,” Yunho says.

“Thanks,” Seonghwa mutters. “Anything else that needs to be relayed to Hongjoong?”

“Nothing at the moment.” They both shake their heads in unison. “I’ll stay in contact with Seungmin to see if anything comes up,” Mingi says. Seonghwa nods at that.

“Thanks, guys.” He turns around and makes his way across the ship to the forecastle where Yeosang’s sitting cross-legged on the deck with various books surrounding him. He stares at the sky before scribbling something down onto the leather case notebook in his lap. Wooyoung and San are scurrying around the place as he gives them orders and Seonghwa watches in amusement as they do. Yeosang pauses in the middle of writing and he looks up to see Seonghwa standing at the top of the wooden steps.

“Oh, hey hyung,” he waves. There’s a sextant sitting beside him along with a handful of other navigational tools.

“Busy?” Seonghwa teases at the way Yeosang’s sitting. The wind picks up and blows his curly black hair out of his face when he looks out at the horizon.

“Hold that thought,” Yeosang raises a finger as he stands up and turns to San. “Get the anemometer!” San stares at him.

“The what?!”

“The thing that spins in the wind!” he groans.

“Oh! Oh! Okay!” San almost jumps out of his spot and rushes down the stairs of the forecastle desk and towards the main deck. Yeosang turns to Wooyoung who’s having a leisurely time with his eyes closed, letting the wind blow past him.

“Wooyoung, go help San and make sure he grabs the right thing.” The crewmate’s eyes snap open and he turns to nod at Yeosang before chasing after his friend.

“Do they even remember which one the anemometer is?” Seonghwa jokes, making Yeosang chuckle softly as he picks up the sextant.

“That’s why I call it ‘The thing that spins in the wind’,” he hums just as the pair returns with the anemometer in their hands. Yeosang takes the device from them and perches it on the platform of the wooden rail, staring at it as it starts spinning. The number at the bottom slowly starts turning until it’s spinning as rapidly as the hemispherical cups. Once the wind’s calm down, Yeosang jots it down into his book before turning to Seonghwa with a sigh. “It’s about the same readings that Mingi said Seungmin had gotten. We should be facing a storm pretty soon.” He looks out at the darkening clouds, dreading the way they seemed to only get darker the closer they were to the horizon.

“Where’s Jongho?” Seonghwa asks.

“He said he was checking on the canons to make sure they were working properly,” Wooyoung speaks, “last I saw him was in the gunport.”

“Shouldn’t you be there with him?” His arms crossed over his chest as he quirked an eyebrow.

“Yeosang said he needed help with the weather and Jongho said he had everything under control,” he shrugs.

“Sorry about that, hyung,” Yeosang turns to face Seonghwa. “It’s easier for me to work when I don’t have to leave the forecastle to grab my instruments if I need them.”

“It’s fine. I’m gonna go check on him.”

“Alright,” he waves as Seonghwa leaves, turning back to check on his instruments. Seonghwa climbs down the wooden stairs and towards the hatch right next to the stairs, lifting the hatch open before he climbs down the ladders until he’s in the ship’s hold. He looks around the empty storage area and walks towards the gunport where Jongho’s carrying around some of the crates.

“Wooyoung mentioned that you were loading the canons,” he says, making the youngest crewmate whip around to look at him.

“Oh, yeah, just finished,” Jongho nods as he stacks the crate in his arms right onto another. “The canons are working fine. Sannie hyung gave them an inspection since we had to use them yesterday. We’re almost out of gunpowder, but that should be fine since we only have another week until we get home.”

“We can stock up then,” Seonghwa nods. “Is there anything else that needs to be done?”

“Not in the hold,” he shakes his head. “Is there any news on the mission Hongjoong hyung said that we’ll be doing?”

“I have to watch their captain because they want her to follow us,” he mutters.

“Yikes,” Jongho’s face contorts in a cringe. “You don’t like new people,” he points out. Seonghwa’s eyes narrow and Jongho purses his lips. “You obviously already know that. So what are you going to do?”

“There’s nothing I can do,” he sighs. “Hongjoong said it’s not up for discussion because I’m the only one that won’t scare her off or won’t make her want to shoot all of us.”

“That’s good, though,” he claims. “I mean, hyung, doesn’t that mean that you’re the one Hongjoong hyung trusts the most? I’d take it as a compliment.”

“Could be,” Seonghwa mutters. As much as he hates to admit it, he knows that he’s the most responsible of all of them. The others are more likely to get distracted whenever they see a pod of dolphins on their journey, which is funny to Seonghwa because they see dolphins every other day with how they pretty much live on their ship. “I just don’t understand why they need another captain with us.”

“Didn’t they say that they failed to do the mission in the first place? That would mean that they already got halfway through before their crew got injured. Which also means that their captain already has a lot of information that would be useful to us.” Jongho does make sense. Seonghwa stares at him while in thought, his lips slightly jut out as he does. Maybe having the captain staying with them for a while might not be so bad.

[firefliesintheskyline]

A Poem In Flowers

PAIRING : Nicky x Joe

PROMPT : Flower Shop AU

(now on ao3 !)

“Oh-oh, he’s gonna pay for that!”

“Booker, we can’t just barge in, we don’t even know how—“

“He stole them from you! Isn’t it clear enough?”

Nicky frowned, listening to the loud voices coming from outside. It was usually a quiet neighborhood, especially at that time of the day.

“Let’s just go inside!"

He was startled when someone opened the door of his flower shop with more strength than needed.

“Booker, can you please calm down a little? You’re going to scare him.”

Nicky looked at the guy who had just spoken, feeling more intrigued than afraid. The fact that the newcomer was also incredibly handsome was definitely a plus.

“Mr. Di Genova, I believe?,” the other man said, in a pissed and totally unfriendly way. Nicky took an instant dislike to him.

“Yes, it’s me. Are you here for a bridal bouquet?"

Not-nice jerk was caught off guard by his question, while cute-dude just chuckled. Of course, Nicky couldn’t help but find it extremely endearing.

“No, we… Okay, let’s start this properly. Nile, my assistant, came here a couple of days ago to pick up a bouquet for my wife.” If Nicky didn’t like this 'Booker' guy before, things only got worse after the last sentence. He appreciated the fact that Very Handsome Man (well, wasn’t his crush escalating quickly) seemed to give his friend a very nasty look at that. “There was a little card attached to the bouquet, a card that contained a short poem.”

Nicky nodded briefly.

“Yes, that’s my customers' favorite part of the bouquet and the very reason why they keep buying here.”

He felt a wave of pride while saying those words. After all, It had been his idea when he had first opened the shop, and he wasn’t going to take lessons from some uneducated asshole just because the guy couldn’t stand poetry.

Extremely Attractive Man (yep, that was it, no going back) gave him a contemplative look, almost as if he was trying to make sense of… something.

“Well, isn’t that nice? Stealing someone else's art and then using it to make a profit?,” rude-dude retorted.

Nicky felt his blood run cold. He didn’t like the tone nor what was being implied, and he was starting to get extremely pissed.

“Look, I’m sorry for Sebastien here, he can be very nasty when he wants.” Nicky noticed that Unbelievably Hot Guy had also Incredibly Nice Lips and Absolutely Gorgeous Eyes, and he was almost starting to forget why he was pissed in the first place, while oh-so-not staring at him. “We just read the card and found it  very similar to… well, one of my poems. And since it wasn’t signed, I just wanted to understand what was going on, find out if maybe someone was taking credit that wasn’t theirs?”

The revelation had Nicky almost drop his jaw. He knew he should focus on the accusation, but all he could do was stare at the guy who was apparently responsible for keeping Nicky up more nights than he could remember, thinking about the brilliant mind behind those perfect words.

“I actually bought them," was all that came out of Nicky’s mouth. 

He realized that maybe he should have added more when the two friends shared a look, seeming rather confused.

“I haven’t published any of them, yet.”

“No, I mean… they were in a jar. I bought the jar.”

For a couple of minutes, there was only silence in the shop. Poet Guy - who was still very hot and still without a damn name to go with his face - opened his mouth a couple of times, but didn’t seem to know what to say, until his eyes widened. Nicky was pretty sure he’d had some sort of epiphany, and he wasn’t the only who had noticed.

“Joe? Joe, are you okay? What is he talking about?”

Joe - Nicky was secretly beaming, he'd finally gotten the name of the man who would haunt all his future dreams - looked very close to an existential crisis.

“Do you remember during college, when I used to live with Andy?” Sebastien nodded, but Nicky was too concentrated on Joe to even notice. “Well, there was this big red jar on the table, in the middle of the living room. Whenever I was struggling with a short poem, instead of throwing the paper away, I would just fold it and put it in the jar.”

Well, if those were Joe’s definition of failed poems, Nicky couldn’t wait to find some way or another to date this guy just so he could read the good ones.

“When she moved in with Quynh, she took the jar with her. I didn’t even realize at first, and after a while I sort of forgot about it. I also didn’t really care because I was sure she’d keep it, since she took it in the first place.” Joe seemed lost, and looked at Nicky as if he was the only one who could make sense of it all.

“If it helps, I can tell you that I bought it from a woman, long hair, mischievous smile, who said she was glad her wife was away for a while so she had time to get rid of the - and I quote - “atrocious bloody colored vase”?” Nicky finished the sentence with a sheepish smile, feeling himself blushing all of sudden.

“I don’t know what I was expecting, but this was definitely not it.” Sebastian shook his head and looked at Joe. “I don’t even think we can force him to stop, since technically he did buy the jar."

“I will definitely stop if Joe is uncomfortable with it.” Nicky raised his voice, slightly insulted by the insinuation. “I would never try to harm or profit from someone else’s work. Especially if that someone is an amazingly talented poet."

Joe was staring at him, looking entranced.

“But you said it yourself, this is what makes your customers coming back. I wouldn’t want to be the one to do the damage to you.”

Nicky was so going to marry this guy. On the spot. Damn it, he would even accept the obnoxious dude as the best man if he had to.

“Maybe we can work out a good compromise?” Nicky’s voice softened, almost as if he was about to share a secret. “I could still put the cards in the bouquet, but with your signature underneath each poem. And I’d give you a percentage over it, of course.”

“I, uh,” Joe’s cheeks were turning a lovely shade of red, and Nicky was torn between feeling pride in being the one who was actually responsible for that and wanting to melt at the sight of it, “what can I say, you do make it sound like a win-win situation. But, as I was saying before, those aren’t exactly poems I feel very confident about.”

“So why not write some new ones to go along with my bouquet?” Nicky knew, deep down, that he was pushing his luck, but he'd found that he really didn’t care that much, especially if he could find a way to get Joe to come back to his shop.

“Oh my God, I’m done. I’m not gonna stand here any longer watching the two of you shamelessly flirt like teenagers.” Sebastien threw his hands up in the air and started walking towards the door, turning around only to yell at Joe, “if you get laid tonight, remember to send me a 'thank you' note!"

“Once again, I really, really do apologize for him. He can be unbelievably crass, but he’s a good friend.” For the first time since he'd entered the shop, Joe gave Nicky a full-on smile, all teeth and dimples. And that’s when Nicky realized, once and for all, that he was utterly fucked.

“No problem,” Nicky let out in a croaked voice, finding it rather difficult to put together a coherent though, “I hope you’ll consider my offer.”

“I most definitely will.” Joe ran his fingers through his hair, looking almost embarrassed. “Maybe we could talk about it over a cup of coffee? I know a place nearby.”

And that’s how they ended up in the coffee shop owned by Quynh, who was absolutely delighted when they told her the whole story and didn’t even try to apologize to Joe, since she had just given him “the single most exciting meet cute of his entire existence”.

(Two years later, at their wedding, Booker and Quynh were still arguing over which one of them was responsible for such a lucky encounter. Nicky secretly spent his days thanking them both).

[ivi-prism]

Oh ask game!

Am bored and finally have free time. And as a curious person this would be fun.

Sooooo:

3, 6 and 20 cause am pretty sure you would like to ramble about that questions.

And the ones am curious 10 (mine messy as fuck), 11 (theyre finish their projects), 18 (i do a lot, maybe thats why i never progress and always ended starting new projects) and 22 (i do and always hate it)

Hi Svetla!!!!! Thank you :D!!!

Three I've answered before X3

6. What character do you have the most fun writing?

To surprise of probably no one.. probably Dream lmao. I adore Fundy's character, and writing Hermits is a delight but! Dream (any variation of him) is always so ridiculously fun. From the most sympathetic to the most villanous I just... dunno I find his character fun. Especially when he is moraly grey because I just have to do a balancing act constantly to keep him somewhat sympathetic, make him be somewhat right about what is happening but he can be terrrible twsitsed or just a mess while that happens. Like .... I don't know I feel writing him is just a good exercise because to keep him interesting (when morally grey) a lot of thought have to go to him. Also when he is just a straight up rat bastard I just enjoy that as well XD. Just going "you are gonna be so villanous and everyone will love haiting you" and is fun! He is just fun! Even if I go to the other side! On aus much further from canon (mainly fwt aus because I am fwt trash) having him be a well-meaning himbo is just... fun! Dunno I just find Dre very fun to write X3

10. How would you describe your writing process?

Chaotic but oddly organized. I will go with that. Usually what happens is that I have an initial burst of chaotic energy I quickly construct into a story in a rambly, messy, incoherent way. And then I sit down and take that as my template and limits to my universe. I adjust timeline as I go and when I'm happy enough with a timeline I turn around and focus on the world and characters. Worldbuilding I keep crazy amount of notes about that (canon reloaded au is evidence of that XD) meanwhile characters.... I just.... I am not sure how I manage to retain that much info but I just construct them and focus on understanding their view of the world and their personality and then whenever I need to write them I just go "okay if I acted like this and to me things where like this... what would be the most logical/ coherent way to act?" and then write that. All this can happen and I still can have a timeline or master plot document where I keep the main beats of the story written and I adjust as I go so it all flows better..... so... yeah chaotically orderly XD

11. What do you envy in other writers?

On one hand their ability to finish stuff, but on my case stuff legitimately gets on my way of finishing stuff because deep down I don't think I could live in peace if I don't finish something that is published. On the other hand. Being concise. I am everything BUT concise since stuff I feel took ages to write then turns out to be super quick to read I go "no..... I want reader to have more stuff to read" and since I just enjoy writing povs so endrenched in character perspectives I just... write and write and write and write.... and that is very useful but on some cases where I need to be brief is a disadvantage. I'm currently learning how to be more brief and concise and I've found it challenging.

18 I answered alredy :3

20. Tell us the meta about your writing that you really want to ramble to people about (symbolism you’ve included, character or relationship development that you love, hidden references, callbacks or clues for future scenes?)

I do.... so much... foreshadowing is not even funny. I hate hate hate HATE plot twist that come out of nowhere so I make sure that if I will reveal something it has been properly set up if it is a surprise, or to leave enough info if it is an important detail that comes to light later. Also character parallels??? My jam!!! I usually write stuff in duos or trios.

For example OWV chapter 25 was a reply to OWV 15 in a way (i'm about to ramble about this in particular)

You see how both Tommy and Tubbo react to Dream, 15 is entirely a Tommy and Dream conversation and 25 is entirely a Tubbo and Dream conversation. They also both focus on Dream in opposite ways. While 15 is an external look at Dream (the chapter is on Tommy's pov), chapter 25 is an internal look at Dream (with Dre being our pov character) and yet both chapters tell you so so much about Dream... the distate of Wilbur mentions on 15 is directly observed in 25. The sudden change of attitude in 15 is seen again in 25 but you have Dre's internal ramblings to make you realize it is a justified change, ta leats on his mind. I just... adore this two chapters (even if both are just 5k conversations each XD).. but just... yess... complementary stuff, and foils, and callbacks like this are my bread and butter

22. Do you reread your old works? How do you feel about them?

I do! In this case is mostly my og projects and I just see baby ivi writing that like "awwww look at baby ivi :3". I see my work was much more cliche and tropey and... limited. And yeah some stuff can be cheesy, and cringey, and edgy. But hey those are the steps that had to be taken to get where I'm now ... and I'm sure in a couple of years I'll re-read what I did on this time of my live and go "ooof right pandemic times... but also hey!!!! look at that! baby ivi was doing this sort of stuff??? awww" I feel no shame over my old stuff, I've decided I will embrace my old works... also who knows??? I might find something interesting there I could revive/adapt for later

Ask game

[dappersheep]

Food Fantasy: An Analysis on what killed a Golden Goose (1/3)

So first things first, disclaimers! I do not claim nor pretend to know every nook and cranny, ins and outs of the history of FooFan's conception, existence and uncertain future. I do not own the game nor its characters, only the opinions and thoughts stated hereon out.

This was born to vent out my frustrations with how a game like this was abused poorly by its own developer and publisher instead of being nurtured to become its full potential that could have overshadowed and remained better than the likes of Tencent's Tales of Food --I could dream, but it honestly had the potential to be.

Out of respect for the main tag, I personally will not be tagging this post and the following two with the main tag. If you want to tag it yourself with it, that's your choice. Only followers of my blog will see this.

This analysis is divided into three parts: Funtoy, Elex, and the Community. It starts under the cut. Well let's get started.

Funtoy

Ah yes, the creator. The developer. You'd think that with their sudden rise to fame during their global launch, they'd have used the massive profits they earned within the first quarter of 2018 to improve certain things about the game and then trickled it down as quickly as possible towards Global, right? Yeah, I thought so too.

After playing the game since launch, I've seen and experienced way too many things that just hammer in the fact that this is one of the most unfair gacha I've played in years. Some reasons being the following:

(Note: These are experiences ONLY on Global's version, it may also apply to CN being the original server)

⦁ The game's gacha model is aimed towards maximum predation on its players. F2p are forced to either spend some money (and thus tempt them to keep spending after getting a taste of it), or risk not even getting a good ascension of the unit to be useful at all. Paying for the event packs also doesn't guarantee that you would be able to secure a spot in the ranks. In fact, if you can't comprehend how the battle mechanics work, you could even de-rank. Fun way to burn that 800$, huh? At least you have the skin from rebates.

⦁ A little less known thing and probably theoretical at worst, the long joked about spaghetti coding of the game along with an outdated spine technology for the sprites could very well be the reason why a 2D game like this experiences the shittiest lags. Also how easy it is to hack this game with the right know-how.

⦁ Speaking of bad gameplay mechanics, did you know you could spend over fifty Mirrors and not get that final enhancement from +9 to +10 simply because there's absolutely no tangible safety net before +10?

⦁ If you're F2P, this game is terrible in giving you resources to stockpile. Because Funtoy certainly doesn't have a lot of weekly/monthly or even friendly events wherein you can get resources without spending another kind of resource. The Hawthorne event's rewards are lackluster at best, Bingo is severely limited in what it gives, and Recall also doesn't give much for a big event that only happens (supposedly) every 6 months. Did I also mention that daily resource rewards also kinda suck compared to how much you burn in just one event?

⦁ Monthly subs are a scam. Yes, you heard that right. My point of comparison here is Arknights. A monthly in AK allows you to have enough to 10-pull after 30 days, on top of a bit of stamina to help you. In FooFan? You have two monthly subs that do different things and even then, you won't have enough to 10-pull by the end of 30 days, nor is the stamina you get enough to even stockpile and ease the pressure of your need to save for the Gates or that stamina event that suddenly popped up.

⦁ A conga line of 'Must procure this unit at a high ascension to do well in the following events!'. You missed the first Pizza event? Missed the first Turkey event? God forbid, you weren't able to 5* your Beer on his debut? Well sorry, that 5* Black Tea of yours isn't gonna do squat to give you good damage. No, your 2* B-52 also isn't going to do much of anything with his lackluster damage capabilities. If you want a chance to get those event URs again, you have to wait for their pool with laughably limited pulls... and a bloated price to even pull.

⦁ The events starting after the first iteration of Turkey event get even more paywalled. As far as I remember, by the time Minestrone rolled around, an F2P with ample crystal resources can only get 2* at best. 3* and above are paywalled.

⦁ The game has incompetent balancing. The devs themselves likely have little experience in gameplay design and balancing, especially for a game with a growing roster of characters . A prime example of them launching a character not knowing it would pretty much unbalance the game? Look no further than Beer. The guy had to have a couple of nerfs done to him because he was just too meta. You know what's sadder? Before the 'switch' to Brave meta, almost all meta units was built to benefit off the Beer meta.

⦁ Artifacts. Do I even have to explain how the introduction of such a game feature so early into the lifespan of this game essentially fucked over the balance even more? Not to mention, all the more reason you'd be crying with the Gates of Trials demanding so much out of your stamina and crystal resources. F2Ps are again, the ones that suffer in this part. What's their reason? Profit, of course.

⦁ The nerf of resto chests. This was the primary source for people who were saving up stamina for the Gates... until Funtoy decided they were being too generous to their playerbase and dropped the stamina probability rate to 1% or less.

⦁ Terrible UI layout and design. Come on, be honest now, you've lost several thousand of your hard earned crystals buying screws in the fishing shop because you didn't notice that shiny warning in small text and a green button with the crystal image slapped on it, didn't you?

⦁ Look at all these SRs! All of them! Wow, they even outnumber the Rs by at least 80! What's that? There's more URs now too compared to Rs and Ms combined? That can't be real. But seriously, you'd think Funtoy could make some of these SRs into Rs and add them to the perm pool/shard fusion so people aren't stuck pulling Macaron or Dorayaki every time. They could have also populated the Team Up rewards with SRs instead of Rs. But you know... that won't bring them profit. Haha... haha.... Oh and I haven't even told you about the SP class...!

⦁ Lore. Yes, I'm sure by now you're aware that the in-game lore is different from the ones in the non-SP Food Soul bios, in the SP Food Soul bios that sort of ties in with the New World story (that global will never be getting btw). At this point, Funtoy handwaves the confusion away by saying, 'they're all different timelines'. Yes yes, an easy and cliche move to explain how shitty the writing direction went after a while. I don't know what happened, all I know is that lore got weird(er) when they introduced SP Rice.

⦁ They. Keep. Adding. More. Characters! They fail to see that a lot of their earlier players have imprinted on the first few waves of Food Souls and they sadly also fail to properly give some of them more story expansion... or skins. At the moment, they're shelling out so many JP-centric Food Souls because... as I see it? They're pandering to the last bastion of whales they have.

⦁ Merchandise. And I mean a variety of merchandise that isn't using the same official art every time. Like they couldn't afford to commission a couple of artists one or two times to make unique merchandise that would sell. They started too late on that train, and they even made it too hard for anyone not in CN or JP to even procure what already exists. Not to mention, they keep using the same 'popular' set of characters for their merchandise and never really expanding out to making merch for other characters.

These are all the things I can list off at the top of my head why Funtoy as a developer sucks ass. They could sweeten their words all they want, it won't change the fact that they've certainly made way too many bad decisions and found out about it too late, and now they're desperate to keep Food Fantasy alive to keep their profits coming in to make whatever that cat girl game they have and that supposedly 'side-game' FF2 they announced.

There may have been problems out of their control that I or you do not see, but one thing is for sure, they were blinded by greed for the money they were raking in on all their servers at the start, and never actually bothered to invest in more manpower in the right places to improve the game, both gameplay-wise and worldbuilding wise. It's actually saddening that this game could have been so much more with several QoLs and a more fleshed out lore, perhaps even spacing out the number of new units they keep introducing while going back to giving their old units more attention.

That's it for Funtoy. We're moving onto Elex in the next part and boy is that also a trip.

[finnsgrin]

Bellamy Blake - “Isn’t this what you wanted?” Part 2

Bellamy Blake x reader

From my Wattpad: inanoncriminalwayy

GIF: heartbellamy

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Word Count: 1,875

Published on: Friday, November 20, 2020

TW: None

Spoilers: None

Summary: S3

A/N: Much requested by my sister, who claimed that the ending of the first part was a cliffhanger. Enjoy. Also, I understand that Miller wasn't with Pike, but I forgot he wasn't when I wrote this, so for the sake of the story just pretend he is apjppsoeods

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

♡Masterlist♡

Part 1

Bellamy Blake

"Isn't this what you wanted?" Part 2

As if things couldn't get any worse, the moment you got to Harpers door, you remembered that she was out on a supply run with Octavia, leaving her door locked, and you stranded in the hallway with tears in your eyes.

"Damn." You cursed as you racked your brain for the key code.

"Need some help?" A familiar voice sounded behind you.

Monty stood in a guards uniform, the bulletproof material looking strange on him. Never in a million years would you have envisioned him in the guard. Let alone the bad part of the guard.

Anger swelled in you, and although you knew that Monty didn't directly take a role in Lincoln's murder, you still resented him for playing the part and sticking at his Moms side when he knew it was wrong.

"You here to kill me too?" You set down your bag, and stared him straight in the eyes.

Although he was at least a foot taller than you, he still backed up, and pity glistened in his eyes.

"(Y/N), I didn't mean to - ."

"You could have talked some sense into them, Monty!"

"I didn't have a choice!" Monty hissed.

You shook your head, picking up your bag with your few belongings.

"There's always a choice." You whispered as you made your way away from him before you did something you would regret.

Maybe with Kane or Abby as Chancellor, the rules would be different.

Scratch that.

They would definitely be different.

Curfew was 9 pm for every citizen of the Ark, excluding the guard, of course. If you were caught out after curfew, no matter the reason, you were shocklashed if you were over the age of 16.

This new rule, including the shorted curfew, and the extensive punishment were mandated by Pike.

Your eyes scoured the walls of the corridors for a clock, but they were empty. You could tell that curfew was approaching, because little to no people were in the halls, and those who were, were hurrying back to their assigned quarters.

Even if you turned back now, there was no guarantee that Harper was back yet, and there was no way in hell you were going back to your room with Bellamy.

In fact, maybe you would stay out in the halls on purpose. Maybe this would result in you getting shocklashed, and Bellamy would finally open his eyes.

Maybe Bellamy would even be the one to do it to you.

"Weren't you arrested in the first place for being out past curfew?"

Jasper startled you as he spoke, leaning against the frame of his door, bottle of moonshine in hand.

You eyed him.

"Weren't you arrested for stealing booze?" You sneered.

He only laughed, his words becoming more slurred as he downed another gulp of his drink.

"Weed, actually. And if it wasn't for... Monty. Neither of us would have been sent down here in the first place."

It was strange what all could change in the span of a few months.

Jasper and Monty used to be inseparable. They were practically brothers. No one could tear them apart.

But now, Jasper spoke Montys name with venom.

"Aren't you due back at the castle with the King?" Jasper waved his drink at the direction, referring to Bellamy.

"I-." Your words were cut short as Nathan Miller rounded the corner. His eyes widened as soon as he caught sight of the both of you.

"Are you trying to get yourselves killed?" He seethed, his eyes darting to the left and the right, breathing a silent sigh of relief as he came to the conclusion that he was the only guard in sight.

Jasper lowered his drink, scrunched up his nose, and appeared to be thinking hard.

"Is this a rhetorical question?" He mused.

Miller turned red in the face.

"I'm not joking around, Jasper. You're lucky it was me who found you, and not Hannah." Miller hissed, clearly not in a joking mood.

Jasper only rolled his eyes.

"Even if you do kill me, what would I end up losing?" Jasper took another drink.

"If you keep talking suicidal, you're gonna end up losing your booze." Miller said.

Jasper seemed to sober up at those words.

"Well, goodnight then." Jasper turned, but Miller stopped him.

"I can't let (Y/N) roam free, Jasper. She's gonna have to stay here tonight." Miller explained.

Jasper shrugged.

"Fine. But I'm not sharing any of my moonshine." He slurred as he walked into his flat.

Millers wrist watched beeped, indicating that it was 9 pm, curfew.

"Hey, I can stop by your dorm and let Bellamy know that-."

"You can leave, is what you can do." You sneered.

Miller blinked, startled by your use of words.

Before he could say anything to this, Hannah Green rounded the corner, and raised her eyebrows at the sight of you, God forbid, two  inches outside of a dorm 1 minute past curfew.

Once she saw that you were talking to Miller, she sighed.

"I can let this slide, but just this once." She gave you a curt nod.

"Oh, will you?" You gave a mock squeal of gratitude, your smile sarcastic.

Hannah frowned.

"I don't like your tone, young lady." She said, her jaw taut.

"And I don't like your face, you power hungry bitch." You jeered.

Hannah gave a gasp of shock, and pulled out a notepad and pen from her pockets.

"I'm afraid I'm going to have to write you up." She said.

You only laughed.

"For what? I didn't threaten you. I'm not even within slapping distance of you."

Her face grew a deep shade of scarlet.

"Is that a threat?" She spoke firmly.

"Do you want it to be?" You move forward, but Millers hands stopped you as he placed them firmly on your shoulders.

"(Y/N), enough," He pleaded, really not in the mood to arrest his friend tonight.

Hannah took a look at the door number of Jaspers dorm, and cleared her throat. Everyone knew Jaspers number. Everyone on the Ark had guided him home at least once when he was too drunk to walk properly.

"I'm going to let this go. I will assume that you are helping Jasper. But if you speak to me like that ever again, you can expect a night in lockup." Hannah held her nose high in the air as she strutted away.

As soon as she was out of earshot, Miller lit into you.

"Are you stupid, (Y/N)?" He hissed.

"Are YOU stupid, Miller? You know what you're doing is wrong." You jeered.

Miller was not in the mood for anymore arguing tonight, so he just let out a defeated sigh, and massaged his temples.

"Have a goodnight, (Y/N)." He spoke softly as he walked away.

-

Bellamy was a mess. He reread the letter that was left for him over and over again until his eyes ached, and his heart couldn't take it anymore.

It had been hours, and he felt like a complete ass for letting you be gone this long.

Even if he went out into the halls without his guard uniform, he knew without a doubt that he wouldn't get in any trouble, being a member of the guard and all.

He opened the door, but before he left, he took the letter that you left him, and folded it neatly into a square so he could carry it with him in his pocket.

It felt strange not walking with you. Almost as if the silence was too loud.

He nearly ran into Monty as he booked it through the halls and around the corner.

"Bellamy, what's wrong? Why was (Y/N) at Harpers door crying?" Monty wondered.

"She's at Harpers?" Bellamys felt a weight lifted off of his shoulders. You were safe.

Monty shook his head.

"No, no. Harper wasn't home. I-I don't know where she is." Monty stuttered.

Bellamy took no more time in conversing, and continued to jog.

"Bellamy? What are you doing out? It's past midnight." Hannah stopped him, a smile on her face.

"My- my..."

What was he even supposed to call you now?

"(Y/N), (Y/L/N), have you seen her?" His voiced cracked pitifully at the end of his sentence.

Hannah's eyes softened.

"I was down at Jasper Jordan's place when curfew started. She was there." Hannah explained, pointing in the direction of which you were.

"Thank you." He nodded gratefully.

It would make sense that you were with Jasper.

Next to Harper, Jasper was your best friend. And you both had something to bond over.

The fact that someone you loved and cared for was killed by someone you loved and trusted...

How much deeper could a bond get?

When he got to Jaspers, the door was cracked open.

Bellamy frowned, and gave a knock.

"(Y/N)?" He loudly announced his arrival.

A groan could be be heard from inside.

A half asleep, not even ten percent conscious Jasper stumbled to the door.

"What do you want?" He growled.

"Jasper, I need to see (Y/N)." Bellamy pleaded.

Jasper moved out of the way, too exhausted for anymore conversing. He gestured widly to the couch in which you had been sleeping on no more than two hours ago.

But you weren't there.

In your place, was yet another note, announcing your departure to the woods where you planned to run away and live a life with Trikru, where you could be free.

All of the blood drained from Bellamys face, and he patted his pockets, cursing when he remembered he wasn't wearing his uniform and didn't have his walkie talkies.

He shoved this note hastily in his pocket, and sprinted out of the room, out into the entrance of Arkadia, where the night air was cool, and the lights bright.

He panicked, swiveling around frantically trying to imagine which direction you would go.

He caught sight of you a few hundred yards outside of the fence.

"(Y/N)! (Y/N)!" He screamed.

You turned around, his name almost passing your lips.

The sound of a gunshot answered him.

The crickets ceased their chirps, and time itself seemed to stand still as Bellamy watched your body crumble to the ground.

The watchman who had shot you realized his mistake as soon as he heard Bellamy scream.

That wasn't a Grounder.

Guards moved out past the gate, to examine the corpse.

They say you move faster when your adrenaline is pumping.

But Bellamy couldn't move fast enough.

"Don't touch her! Don't touch her!" Bellamy cried as a guard bent over to pick you up.

Your face was forever frozen. Your eyes wide with regret and heartache. Your lips beginning to form Bellamys name.

Bellamy let out a wail. It was a familiar wail.

It was the sound Raven made when she watched Finn die.

It was the sound Octavia made when she watched Lincoln die.

But this wail was different in a few ways.

It was full of more regret.

More sorrow.

As Bellamy held your bleeding body in his arms, the paper of the notes you had left crinkled in his pockets.

Both of them goodbye notes.

And Bellamy whispered the words he never got to say.

"It's you. I choose you."

♡Masterlist♡