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lesservillain · 3 days ago

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Worst Enemy

Playtime Masterlist

cw: enemies to lovers, omegaverse, mentions of drugs and alcohol

wc: 5k

“Daddy, it’s not polite to eat with your mouth open.” Eddie looked up from his take out box, noodles still hanging from his lips as he watched his daughter stand in front of him with hands on her hips. The disappointed look on her face was both cute and horrifying in their own ways.

Eddie loves his daughter. Spending time with her gave him a rush that he’d never had before. Nothing he ever drank, snorted, or smoked over the two year tour he had been on for part of her life could compare to all the time he spent with her over the last six months of being back in California.

But, there was one thing that his sweet girl did that was beginning to grind his gears.

Melody had started to correct and nit pick every little thing that Eddie did when it came to his “manners.”

After a few issues in the past, Eddie didn’t trust people he didn’t know in his house. So he did what most other people of his status didn’t do; he cleaned things himself. It was something he didn’t mind doing, but he liked to do things at his own pace. So when when he left his clothes laying around the large house, fully intended on picking them up…eventually, Mel would pester him to clean it up.

Calling him gross was another thing. Anytime he burped or farted around her, or if he scratched his ass, even OVER his boxers mind you, he was gross. When he would wipe his hands on his pants, he was gross. When he would clip his toenails into the toilet, he was gross.

She also would scold him for being forgetful, like when he left the toilet seat up and she dragged him by the hand to shut it so she “doesn’t fall in.” Or when he forgot about her early hair appointment and didn’t set his alarm.

Now, Eddie wasn’t totally against his daughter’s rightings. He was happy that she strived to be a well mannered girl for her age. But, Eddie couldn’t help the annoyance that fronted instinctually when a four year old tries to parent you. She already was way too much like her mother in many ways for Eddie’s liking, always wanting things to be clean and perfect. He hated that it reminded him of why her mother and him weren’t together anymore to begin with.

Well, one of the reasons why they weren’t together.

When they met at the time, Chrissy was another young blonde omega trying to make a name in the modeling industry. Around the same time Eddie and his band had just gotten signed to their first major label, the both of them making it big within the same span of time.

With how much partying goes in the streets of Hollywood, it was only a matter of time before they crossed paths. They hit it off right away and soon became a Hollywood “IT” couple for their contrasting looks.

After being on and off for 10 years, marrying almost 5 years ago, having a child 4 and a half years ago, him and Chrissy officially split when Melody was two. Chrissy tells anyone who asks that it was because they had grown apart. But Eddie knew she was upset with him prioritizing his tour over his family.

The drugs and drinking also probably had a part in everything. But the sake for his own mental health he tells himself the break up was mutual.

“Sorry Mel,” he says as he slurps the rest of his noodles in his mouth.

“You shouldn’t talk with your mouth full either,” she scrunches her nose at him. He sticks his tongue out at her, half chewed food on full display to Melody’s dismay. She gives him a high pitched “ewwwww,” followed by a squeal when he hops off the couch to chase her around. “Noooo, daddy, don’t get your food on me!”

“But it’s my responsibility as your dad to feed you! Now open up, baby bird!” He grabs her and lifts her in the air. The massive TV room is filled with the sound of childish laughter as tosses her around, pretending to almost drop her to get that extra belly laugh out of her.

Sweet as syrup music begins to play as the old program transitions into a new show. The familiar tune gives Eddie an instant ick, but Melody’s disposition instantly shifts when she hears it.

Thrashing in her daddy’s grasp, she shouts.“Daddy, put me down! Miss Bee! Miss Bee!”

The toddler is practically clawing to get out of his grip, so Eddie obliges. He watches her curls bounce with every step as she goes to stand in front of the large screen. She’s doing a little dance as she sings along with the theme song, large letters appear that read “Play Time with Miss Behave.”

He watches as a bunch of puppets parade around on the screen, following close behind a chick wearing a goofy get up and some over exaggerated makeup as the song comes to a close. You introduce yourself as the host, Miss Behave “but you can call me Miss Bee for short.” You talk directly to the audience about some kid friendly bullshit that his daughter unfortunately eats up. He doesn’t get her hype over you; the show is pretty much the same as Sesame Street to him.

About 5 minutes later the phone rings. He happily jumps up to answer it; anything to get him away from this TV.

“Munson residence.”

“Eddie, is Mel watching Play Time?�� Asks the chipper voice of his ex wife.

“Yeah, how did you know,” he asks, peering over his shoulder at the TV. A small gasp followed by a squeal erupts from the small girl as she jumps around the living room.

“DADDY LOOK, IT'S MOMMY! MOMMY AND MISS BEE!”

“Oh you’re joking,” Eddie groans as Chrissy appears on screen and talks with you.

“Ah, I’m so glad she’s excited!” The reaction Chrissy gives is practically identical to their daughter’s. “It was so hard to keep it a secret from her for so long.”

“I don’t get it,” he says with a huff. “I mean I get why you would like her, little miss prim and proper bullshi—“

“Eddie,” Chrissy says sternly over the line, “please don’t start today.”

He sighs, rubbing his hand over his face as he leans into the wall. “Sorry, sorry. Mel’s just been on me about every little thing and it’s driving me up a wall.”

“Hmm, maybe if a child is telling you to get your shit together you should listen?” Her faux sweetness jabbed at the layer of ice that Eddie had over his heart to protect it.

“I’ll take it into consideration,” he says sarcastically. He could hear her scoff into the receiver, the visual of her eye roll popping into his head.

“Anyway,” she said with annoyance, “besides making sure Mel got to see me on the show, I also called to let you know I’m taking her this weekend with me to New York.”

Eddie stands up straight, brows furrowed, “What? Why?”

“I’m taking her to see Miss Bee in concert. I’m already going for a walk so I got tickets for her since she’s performing the same weekend.”

“Okay but who's going to watch Mel while you do your runway shit?”

“Lisa, duh.” Chrissy says as if it’s obvious, since Eddie should know who’s been watching his daughter while she works this whole time. “She’s already put together a schedule of things for them to do while I’m at the show.”

Eddie thought about it for a moment. He’d only had Melody with him for a little over a month this time while Chrissy was doing some business in France. Even though she was testing his patience with her nitpicking, he still missed her a lot when she was at Chrissy’s and really didn’t want to give her up already.

“What if I tag along?” He asks after a beat. “I have a lot of connections in New York so I think I can keep her entertained. Give her the full authentic New York style pizza experience. She’ll flip when the slice is bigger than her head.”

There was a pause on the phone, Melody’s loud singing being the only thing he can hear. For a moment he thinks Chrissy’s hung up on him, until she finally speaks again.

“Okay, that sounds like a great idea!” Her tone was surprisingly animated, and it worried Eddie a little. “You can pay for the tickets then,” she said sweetly. There it was. But Eddie begrudgingly agreed, and the two straightened out all the details before hanging up the phone.

Walking back into the TV room, Eddie caught the last few minutes of the show as it played. The ending of your show usually consisting of a recap of what the audience was supposed to have learned from you and your stupid friends.

Eddie hates that he knows that.

He also hates watching you dance and sing with his ex wife on TV.

Honestly, Eddie hated everything about you.

When Melody watched your show around him the first time he really only found you kind of annoying, like most other kids shows she watched. It was clear that you had an influence on Mel’s recent harping.

“Clean your room, be nice to everyone, don’t tell lies.” All things that he should be happy his daughter is learning, right?

But, the straw that broke the camel’s back was over one particular episode, because he knew you were talking about him. It was an episode talking about respect. Innocent enough, right? That was until there was a cut to a skit being performed by some of the puppets on the show.

Majority of these skits would be reenactments of things in movies or TV, sometimes of real events, all performed by the various puppets. In this skit in particular, they were in a hotel room and they were completely destroying it.

That was until you came in, Miss Can-Do-No-Wrong, and scolded the puppets about respecting other people’s property. He had to take a moment to process what he was looking at…

The four puppets all dressed to look like him and his bandmates. One of them even had a shirt that said “crumbling cookie” in the same font as their band logo.

What was worse is that he was seeing this months after it’s original airing. Which, apparently, was only a week after his controversial hotel room fiasco, where he may have done just a tensy bit too much coke and tried to throw his mattress off the balcony at a Hilton in Nevada. It had been a big tadoo that the tabloids ate up, making up all kinds of rumors and casting him in a bad light. Apparently people can’t make mistakes in this world.

Normally Eddie really didn’t care much about what people had to say about him, all the bullying in high school giving him a thick skin. But he and Chrissy had made an agreement that Mel wouldn’t see the shit her old man got into if the both of them could help it. So for this show she loved so much to directly put him on blast like that?

Oh, you were his public enemy number one.

He told his agent to try and find any dirt that he could on you, but came up with nothing. Not even a parking ticket.

He tried to get Melody to watch anything other than your show, but it only resulted in a level 10 nuclear meltdown. When he told Chrissy about it, she said that Mel never even put two and two together to realize it was him. That kind of stung in a way, his own daughter not seeing him enough to recognize a caricature of him, even as a puppet.

His last ditch effort was having his agent contact the company and try to get the episode taken off air for good. If she wanted to be petty, he could be petty, too. They never got back with his agent, but he also hasn’t seen the episode rerun since.

“Before we go, I want to give a special Play Time shout out to a big fan of mine. She’s a very sweet little girl whose mommy and daddy love her very much. So lets all give a big, Play Time hooray for Melody Munson!”

The full ensemble hooray on Mel’s behalf. Even with Eddie’s constant exposure to loud sounds, he could never have been prepared for the screech that left his daughters mouth. He was both impressed and terrified. Maybe she had the pipes for metal some day; she certainly has the stamina with the way she’s running laps around the couch.

Oh, and now she’s trying to jump off of it.

“Mel, princess, let’s not break our limbs,” he grabs her mid jump and pretends to launch her like a rocket, sound effects and all before lowering her back down to the floor.

“Daddy, did you see that! Mommy and Miss Bee are best friends now!”

“I did see that,” he said with faux enthusiasm, “I’m sure they’re the best of friends.”

The thought of his ex wife and his mortal enemy being best friends made him feel sick to his stomach. Chrissy has ever given him reason to think she would try anything with Melody, but what if you and the stick up your ass were able to convince her that fatherhood and his rockstar lifestyle aren’t compatible?

He’s thought it himself plenty of times, during those lonely nights on the tour bus when he was trying to get better with Chris, turning down groupies so he could get a second…third…seventh chance to make it work with her before she finally served him with the divorce papers.

But, where he faulted at being strong for Chrissy, he strived at doing what he could for Melody. Even after having a spotty relationship with her, the two of them were thick as thieves when they’re together. And he wasn’t about to let you get in the way of that.

“Daddy, when will we see Pop-pop?” Melody asks for the 20th time, not taking her eyes off her coloring book, her little tongue poking out in concentration as she practices staying in the lines. Eddie tried taking a nap the first hour of the flight, but Mel was in her questioning stage and the two of them haven’t flown together before, so she’s pulling every question she can out of the crevices of her brain.

“About 45 more minutes, baby girl,” he says as he cracks open a bag of honey roasted peanuts open for her, little hands grabbing the nuts as quickly as he sets them on her tray. “What are you colouring?” He asks, unsure of what colouring book she insisted on packing all by herself into her bag.

“It’s Tilly, Daddy,” she says as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“Oh, sorry,” he apologizes with a roll of his eyes, “But who is Tilly? She looks like a muppet or something.”

“She’s not a muppet, Daddy,” Mel sighs, setting her crayon down and picking up the book to show the cover to her dad, “She’s Miss Bee’s neighbor!” Eddie cringes at the mention of your name. “Tilly likes to juggle. And she likes bugs!”

“Sounds like someone I know,” Eddie chuckles, poking his daughter playfully in the ribs, eliciting a small giggle from her. Once she settles, Mel starts to flip through the pages in her book, the first half full of colour as each page turns until she finally hits the untouched pages. Eddie watches as she carefully pulls a page from the book and places it on his tray.

“Here, Daddy,” she says as she sets some crayons in the hand closest to her, speaking with a very serious tone. “Don’t let them roll away.” Eddie nods, giving her a yes ma’am as she picks a new page for herself.

Eddie assesses the colourless page, hoping for some clown looking puppet or a cat or literally anything else other than the cartoon version of you holding a potted sunflower that graces his vision. With a flash of hope he flips the page to assess the back, only to find another picture of you, this time laying on the ground reading a book on a rug.

“Mel, wouldn’t you rather colour these pictures of Miss Bee?” Eddie asks, hoping that Mel would want to keep the pages of you to herself.

“Huh,” she looks up at him, seeing him flipping the pages back and forth. A little idea pops in her head, evident from the pinch in her brow. “No, Daddy,” she shakes her little head, “You gotta draw on one side, and then-and then, I--” she points a little finger to her chest,” --will colour the other side. And then when we see Mommy she can give it to Miss Bee.”

Eddie nods slowly, forcing a smile as Melody explains her plan to him. He’s not entirely thrilled at the idea, but how can he tell those big, brown eyes no? So he takes one of the crayons and begins colouring.

He makes no effort to make sense, your skin coloured red and your fluffy hair yellow, with a big lavender nose and matching circles on your cheeks. The temptation to draw devil horns and a tail is only outweighed by the prospect of upsetting his little girl, and possibly her mother, if she was insistent on gifting the colouring page to you.

After two days in the Florida heat, Eddie grips Melody tight in his arms as they make their way off the plane in New York City. He thought that they had made it out unnoticed when there wasn’t a single camera flashing through the entire airport. But, unfortunately for him, the crowd seemed to be waiting outside for the two of them to make their exit.

Eddie has them both with hoods up and sunglasses on as they are escorted to their transportation. Chrissy and him decided they would try and keep Mel out of the spotlight for as long as they possibly could, and had been fairly successful for the most part. Mel knew the drill by now, thinking of it like a game in her childlike mind.

But poparazzi in New York are about as ruthless as the ones back home in California, doing just about anything to get a picture. Whether it be of him or his daughter for the next issue of Insider. Cameras press against the glass trying to get one more good shot before they pull away. Eddie quickly flips them the bird just as the car begins to speed off.

Melody kicks her little feet in her seat as Eddie buckles her in.

“Daddy, are we going to see mommy now?” She asks, looking up at him excitedly.

“Yes, ma’am,” he says with a forced enthusiasm. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to see his ex-wife, quite the opposite really. But she’d really nailed it in his head that she was completely done with him and he was still healing the wound in his heart even two years later.

Melody looked excitedly out of the window, a childish wonder in her eyes as she soaked in the busy New York streets. A hundred “Daddy, what is that?”’s later, they finally arrived to the hotel Chrissy was staying in. The driver received their key and helped escort them to the elevator without incident. He almost cried when Eddie handed him a $100 tip as a thanks.

As the elevator topped out, the door opened to a spacious penthouse sweet. People walk back and forth past the open elevator door, some talking on their clunky cell phones, or carrying different dresses back and forth.

Eddie takes Mel’s hand and they step off the elevator, looking around at all the commotion. Eddie was used to this kind of frantic scene backstage at his concerts, but he wasn’t sure if Mel had ever been around this before. He kept her close to him as they stood by the elevator entrance, eyes scanning for a familiar face.

“Melody!” A woman’s voice called.

“Lisa!” Melody squealed, letting go of Eddie’s hand to run to the woman. Eddie’s pretty sure he’s met this chick before but he’s met a lot of chicks so it’s hard to say.

“I’m glad you guys made it okay. Chrissy’s in the bedroom getting ready. I’ll let her know you’re here?”

“I can do it--”

“No, I really think I should let her know,” Lisa stops him from going any further. “She is getting changed after all.”

“Okay suit yourself I guess,” Eddie shrugs, not really caring either way.

Lisa hands Melody over to Eddie and makes a beeline to a room down a the hallway. Not a few minutes later Chrissy comes from around the corner with arms wide open. She’s wearing a cropped tank top and some shorty shorts that make Eddie need to look away from her

“Hi my sweet angel baby!”

“Mommy!” Melody puts her arms out for her mother to take her, Chrissy scooping her up in her arms.

“Mommy! Mommy! I saw you with Miss Bee!”

Chrissy laughs, kissing her daughter on the cheek. “I heard! Were you so excited to see me with her?”

“I was so essited! Are Mommy and Miss Bee best friends now?”

“We are! And guess what?”

“What!”

“You’re going to get to meet Miss Bee!”

The sound that erupted from Melody just about took out Eddie’s ear drums.

“WHAT! FOR REAL LIFE?!”

“Yep! Tonight, after you have your fun day with Daddy! We’re taking you to meet her for her concert!”

“Oh em gee, this is the best day of my life EVER!”

Even though the context was less than ideal for Eddie, he still couldn’t help but melt over his daughters excitement.

“Wait a minute,” he interjects, “What do you mean we are taking her to see Miss Bee?”

“I got you a ticket,” Chrissy says with a coy smile.

“No, nope, no--”

“But Daddy, you have to go so we can give Miss Bee our colorings!”

“Come on, do I really have to?”

“Yes!” Chrissy and Melody say in unison.

And so Eddie was exactly where he didn’t want to be; side stage at your show.

To be fair, he had a blast in New York with Mel. They were able to avoid paparazzi all day and he even got her the big slice of pizza that she was in fact amazed by. But none of it could prepare him for the absolute bullshit that was this mockery of a concert.

Sure, there were plenty of people in the crowd. Most of them were kids, but it was still a packed stadium. It’s just that there was too much innocence. All the colors were bright and flashy. There were people dressed as puppets running around the back. No one had their titties out and people weren’t getting high in the bathroom before hand. Where was all the pizzaz?

Mel was excited, to say the least. Chris had a hand made Miss Bee outfit tailored to her, so she’d been sporting that for the entire outing today. She wouldn’t stop talking about how she couldn’t wait to show you. But you hadn’t made an appearance yet, thank fuck.

“Mommy, where’s Miss Bee?” Melody asks with her little patience showing.

“I told you, honey, we’re meeting Miss Bee after the concert. She has to put on a show for everyone first.”

Right on cue, the light dimmed on the stage and the crowd erupted into cheers and applause. Eddie liked the familiarity of the crowd's reaction, but it was soon spoiled by the sound of your voice.

“Is everyone ready?!” Your voice echoes over the PA system and Eddie fights the instant agitation. The lights come on not a moment later and soon you and your gaggle of idiot cast members enter the stage to begin your stupid show. The beginning of your intro song plays throughout the stadium and the crowd all joins you for your dance as they sing along.

Eddie looks down to see his own daughter copying your dance moves to the best of her ability. It was cute, and he admired her commitment to do her best. Eddie decided then that he would just pay attention to his daughter during the show rather than watch whatever the hell you were doing.

“Jesus will this ever end?” Eddie says under his breath. He felt like this show was going on forever.

“It’s only been 45 minutes,” Chrissy whispers back to him, causing Eddie to audibly groan. The slight head ache he was starting to get from all the lights told him he needed a break from all of this.

“I’m going to take a piss,” Eddie says before walking away.

“Where is daddy going?” He hears Melody ask as he walks away and it stings him for some reason. He wasn’t leaving, he just needed minute.

He did take his time in the bathroom, no matter how guilty he felt. The sounds of your show had paused for a bit and he assumed you were doing some kind of talk with the audience about brushing your teeth or whatever else you could come up with.

When he finally left the bathroom, she stepped out right into a slew of oncoming people. Before he knew it he was colliding with someone, almost getting knocked to the ground in the process. He tried to see who is was, but a spotlight was peaking over the curtain obstructing his view. All he could tell is that the person had landed on their ass as a result of their collision.

“Hey, sorry,” he said, sticking out a hand for the person to take. He felt them grasp their hand, and an instant shock wave went through his arm and into his body. It felt like he’d been electrocuted, all his alpha senses awakening in that moment.

He tried to jerk his hand away, but his firm grip just ended up pulling the person off of the ground. As he moved from the spotlight, he found himself holding hands with…Miss Bee?

“Woah,” is all you said as the two of you made eye contact. Eddie felt like he was stuck. All the hatred he normally felt for you in this moment had dissipated and he felt a strange…need for you. Despite all of the other people running around, the room felt like only the two of you were in it. And his senses started to fill with the smell of sweet vanilla and honey. He wanted to wipe all that silly clown makeup off your face, but he wanted to be the one to do it.

A name is called from somewhere next to where the two of you are standing and it seems to pull you out of the trance that the two of you were in. You hesitantly pull your hand from his and take off into the chaos that was suddenly very clear to Eddie.

“What the fuck?”

“There you are. See, I told you daddy was coming back,” Chrissy says to Melody as she dances around the side stage.

“Daddy, Miss Bee went on a break. We only have a little bit more time, and then we get to meet her! Then I can give her my colorings!”

“That’s great sweety,” Eddie says as he stands next to Chrissy again.

“You okay?” She asks him lowly.

“Y-yeah I’m good. My head, it’s just, you know, bothering me.” He does his best to lie.

“Do you want some tylenol? I have some in my purse.”

“Actually, yeah, I’ll take some.”

Chrissy fishes around in her purse and finds the bottle just as the lights dim again. Eddie instinctively cringes as he prepares himself for the next round of whatever is about to happen on stage.

“Alright, everyone, ready for more!”

Eddie is slightly surprised to find that your voice isn’t grating his nerves this time around. In fact, he almost likes hearing it. What the hell was happening to him?

The rest of the show goes on and Eddie seems to have conflicting feelings. Something about you has changed in his mind and he’s not sure what, but he doesn’t like it. Well, he does, but he doesn’t want to like it.

“Thank you all so much for coming out tonight! This has been an amazing experience and I am so happy to have shared it with you all.” The crowd cheers as you speak and the people around you bounce and cheer as well.

“We have one more song for you tonight! And I have a very special guest that I would like to come out and share it with me!” You turn to look at the side stage and it feels like you’re looking right at him. Oh, shit, were you looking at him?

“Give it up for my special friend, Melody!”

“What?” Eddie turns to look at Chrissy, but she’s already taking to the stage with their daughter pulling her all the way. He watches as his daughter runs to you and gives you a big hug.

Eddie starts to panic a bit. There’s no way that this show isn’t playing live on some TV station. And he’s sure with Chrissy being out on stage with Melody, who looks like the spitting image of Eddie, that there’s no way that every news station and magazine isn’t going to be putting her face out there to the world.

Irate doesn’t even begin to describe the way Eddie is feeling in this moment. He watches from the sideline as Melody and Chrissy dance with you and he decides then and there that he needs to be the one to bring your downfall. He doesn’t care how he does it, but he will make sure that you’re blacklisted from every media station in Hollywood.

He WILL see you fall.

Thanks for reading!

#eddie munson #eddie munson fic #alpha!eddie munsonx omega!reader #alpha!eddie munson #rockstar!eddie munson x reader #rockstar!eddie munson #eddie munson x reader

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angellekookie · 18 hours ago

Text

Always Been There | MYG - PART 1.

Summary: Ever since the new kid moved into your cousin's old house, your life has been different.

Genre: Childhood Friends to Lovers AU, (half-sided) Academic Rivals to Lovers, it's romance- fluffy romance, maybe cliché (this is a warning)

WC: 5.1 K

Other Tags: Friend! Teahyung (mentioned), Cousin! Seokjin (mentioned)

Warnings: Brief mention of alcohol consumption, Idk if I missed any, but let me know.

Pairings: Min Yoongi x F! Reader

Dividers by @thecutestgrotto

You never perceived yourself as a competitive child. You were usually quiet and reserved, often opting to be engaged in any book, watch television or play the occasional video game with your older cousin, Seokjin, who lived just down the street. This all changed one summer when your uncle got a new job in Seoul and had to move. Obviously, you missed him, he was your favourite cousin, your best friend. So every day you’d walk to your uncle’s old house hoping he’d come back from his new job and bring Seokjin home with him.

Days melted into weeks and the “For Sale” sign on the gate seemed to get bigger and bigger as if it existed solely to mock you. Or maybe it only appeared ten times the size because you stared at it so often, studying it, willing anything to change.

Summer's end brought you an initially pleasant surprise. This time, when you walked to Jin's house you saw people going back and forth taking boxes from a moving truck. Obviously, you thought that the day couldn’t get any better, your young mind not even considering that it could actually get worse.

Excitement led your feet through the gate and inside the yard where you saw a boy with his back turned to you. He appeared a bit shorter than how you remembered your cousin, but excitement didn’t let you think on that too much. Besides, surely you grew in the last few months, of course Jin wouldn’t look as tall to you any more.

The next five seconds happened both breathtakingly fast and painstakingly slow. The next five seconds changed what you thought was the best day of your life to the single worst day of your entire existence.

One second you were running towards your “cousin,” the next second you were making an unplanned descent, landing at the feet of who you later discovered was the son of your new neighbours.

At eight years old, maybe you still believed that kindness was the default setting of the world and expected the same from the boy looking down at you with his pale, chubby face. But whether it was disgust on his face, disdain—or maybe perhaps you were lucky and he just didn’t care—you didn’t know. What you did know was that you had to leave and you had to leave immediately.

That evening your parents barely managed to console you after you came home crying with a bruised kneecap. You were silent all through dinner and hardly gave any attention to what they were saying about inviting people somewhere and someone close in age. You had enough on your plate already with trying to forget the sheer embarrassment you had endured earlier in what you had once considered a safe space and the brussels sprouts your mother had insisted you eat tonight.

After that day, Min Yoongi became a constant in your life.

As luck would have it, your parents were speaking about your new neighbours that night. About how they meant to introduce themselves to them so they would feel welcomed to the neighbourhood. About the son they had who was around two years older than you, and how you both could be great friends.

You never anticipated that your mother would become best friends with Yoon Misook, which meant that you would come to spend a lot of time with the Mins. Birthday parties, holiday celebrations, family get-togethers… if you can name it, you had to be there and you had to be there with him.

Min Yoongi loved being right. There was always unmistakable joy present on his otherwise expressionless face when he knew he was right. Like when he beat you at chess, or told you that tomato was actually a fruit- it didn’t matter because you still didn’t like eating them anyways. You enjoyed wiping the smug little smirk right off his face. The thing was that you loved being right too, or rather, you greatly enjoyed telling Min Yoongi he was wrong. Enjoyed telling him that the sun was in fact a star, feeling higher than any sugar rush could take you when you let him know that acetic acid wasn’t technically vinegar- just a part of it. This was much to the dismay of both your parents, your friends, teachers, and anyone else who had the pleasure of having you both around at the same time.

Although maybe you should thank him.

During the school year, some time after your first meeting with Yoongi, you were sitting in his living room completing homework. His brows were furrowed in a delicate mix of concentration and confusion. You had stretched over to his side to see what was the matter, to see if you perhaps needed to ask his mother or older brother for help. “Yoongi-oppa, what’s wrong?” He didn’t look at you, for a second you wondered if he even heard you. You were going to nudge him with your pencil until he said your name. “Don’t worry about it. You won't understand it anyways.” His brows furrowed even more as he continued to work on his assignment.

Now you weren't planning to help him by any means. He was older than you and you were sure his fifth-grade math would give your third-grade math a run for its money. But him implying that you couldn't even understand it struck a nerve in your young brain. “Lemme see it, please, please, pleasee. Yoongiii-” he released a heavy sigh and turned his workbook towards you. Of course you were pleased with getting your way.

There were shapes, you definitely recognized the triangle and other shapes. You also knew about perimeter, but as you read further down the page admittedly some of the questions you didn’t quite understand just how they expected to get all those answers from a few shapes. It was your turn to have your brows furrowed in confusion.

Noting the shift in your facial expression, Yoongi took his workbook back. You looked up to find him looking at you with one eyebrow raised and a smug little smile on his face. He was daring you to say something, anything. You knew that, but you had nothing to say. “I told you.” He’d said, and hearing your silence, Yoongi knew that he was in fact right and a chuckle managed to escape him. You only huffed and returned to your seat, barely managing to finish the last question of your own assignment.

That night you swore it would be the last time you’d let Min Yoongi look at you like that. Call it your villain origin. Sheer spite, divine motivation, whatever it was and whatever it took you knew you just had to be better than you were, better than him eventually.

You had spent even more time with your face buried in books than you used to. If you were an academic weapon before, you made it your mission to become an academic armoury now. The next few years saw you move from just being at the top of your class, to being the top of the school- overtime skipping a grade and ending up in the same class as your favourite neighbour.

You still remember how he was laughing with his friends, completely unaware of your presence until the homeroom teacher called you up to the front to introduce you to the class. He was surprised, you’d hardly ever seen him surprised by anything, much less anything you’ve done. He often had little to no emotions on his face and after eight years of knowing him, you’d come to know that any emotion outside of his usual scope of nothing was absolutely monumental.

As much as possible, you tried to steer clear of Yoongi while at school except for some instances where a teacher thought it a good idea to have you both working together (that mistake was hardly made a second time). You’d quickly learn that in his first year of high school, Yoongi, who lacked any decent manners and people skills, was somehow popular among the students. You noticed how girls often giggled with their friends when they passed him, or how you would see him laugh more with his own group of friends than he ever did with you back home. This was understandable as the both of you only ever really managed to get on each other’s nerves.

Despite all this, he’d hardly ever let you walk home alone even when you insisted that you could walk home with literally any of your other friends, anybody but him. He says it's because he knows you enjoy his company though you refuse to admit it. “As if,” You would tell him. “Personally, I have better things to do than pretend to enjoy spending time with the likes of you.” You ignore the voice that tries to tell you that it's a good thing he’s here with you and not with one of the girls in his little fan club. You ignore the same voice as it tries to tell you that you wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.

Instead, you swat his hand away when he attempts to flick your forehead. Instead, your laughs echo through Daegu streets as you run from him. There's no point in running. Of course, he'll catch you, just like he always has, and maybe he always will. So even though your lungs burn, and Min Yoongi is annoying, and you're not even close to being the prettiest girl at school, there's a big grin on your face. This moment was yours, yours alone.

Once as you were preparing for your last lesson of the day, Yoongi sat down beside you in the empty classroom. Before you could comment on it, other students came in and started filling up seats one by one. Throughout the class, you noticed that Eunji had taken the seat to his left. That’s no problem, she and her ponytail could sit wherever they wanted. If only she didn’t keep asking him things every five minutes or so. You weren't counting. But you wondered if he could ever learn anything with her practically in his ear the entire time, you wondered if she knew she was distracting the entire class trying to breath down Yoongi’s neck.

You felt sick, maybe. There was a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach and it felt just a bit difficult to breathe. But you also felt like you could burst. You weren’t sure if you liked it. Thankfully, class had finally ended and students began leaving as quickly as they came in. You wouldn’t have to endure... whatever that was any more.

You were just packing up when you heard a deep voice beside you, “If you stared any longer, given your track record, I’d have to believe you had a crush on me or something.” He makes it his mission to ensure you never forget the one time you tripped and fell to his feet when you were children. Due to either mild irritation, embarrassment or something else you could feel the blood rushing up to your face, so you decide to slow your movements in hopes that he wouldn’t see it.

“Please, Yoongi. Do I look like I'd want to waste my intelligence on harbouring romantic affections for you.” You hear him scoff behind you and you turn your head just enough to see him raise his eyebrow, looking at you incredulously.

“’Yoongi?’ We dropped the honorifics now?”

“We’re classmates, I didn’t think it was necessary.” You decided to face him, mirroring his raised eyebrow with your own, challenging him. “Is there a problem, Yoongi? I mean, if it’s so important to you I could always just start calling you ahjuss-”

"Yoongi, is fine." For the second time today there's a hint of surprise on his face, and the ghost of a smile that you weren’t quite sure what to make of it. You wanted to smile too, but suddenly you remembered Eunji beside him in class and the smile never came to be. You didn’t want to tell him that he had all the girls in the school to call him whatever he wanted them to, that perhaps you felt a bit intimidated by the older, more mature girls that he had around whenever you saw him. You didn’t want to tell him that because you’ve been actively avoiding feeling that way for some time. You didn’t want to tell him anything like that for fear of him actually laughing you to scorn, for fear of him hitting you with his infamous blank stare. You’ve had your fair share of first-hand experiences with it.

Instead of all the things you weren’t ready to face, weren’t ready to say, you tell him “I can’t walk home with you today. Me, Taehyung and Ara have uhmm, something. I’ll see you later.” There was nothing. But you left to find your friends before he could have a chance to say anything else to you.

It’s been a year since you graduated high school. Summer brought you back to your hometown for the first time since you moved in with your uncle to be closer to university in Seoul. You weren’t the only students home for break so naturally, you ran into a few of your old classmates. Some of them mentioned a get together on the field behind the school that was coming up. You couldn’t not know about it. You remember barely stepping off the bus with Yoongi when Sooyoung greeted you both and first suggested the idea. That’s how you found yourself on the field with him (and the drinks) waiting for the others to show up.

Soon everybody that could make it sat down on the grass and Sooyoung started pouring out the drinks in cups and passing them around. The first taste is... bitter. You try to drink more, you’ve heard a few people say it's an acquired taste.

The night went on, conversations eventually straying away from the generic “How are you” and “what are you up to now.” to be more meaningful (as meaningful as it gets when alcohol is involved.) Socially, you were there. You contributed to the conversation occasionally- laughing when something was funny, nodding if you agreed with something, sprinkling in a “nah” when you didn’t agree with something else.

Occasionally though, you would stare at the amber liquid in your cup. It was taking everything in you not to gag when you took yet another sip. The cup is put down beside you, you don’t think you’ll be acquiring that taste anytime soon. Said cup gets to sit there for approximately thirty seconds before it finds residence in Yoongi’s hands. He’s drinking your drink. Yet you can’t find it in you to complain because you really, really don’t like it. You decide to leave well enough alone.

It’s not until a new cup is placed before you by the drink thief himself that decide to look at him. He’s not looking at you, of course he’s not. He never looks at you when he’s with his friends. Not that it matters, not that you care. At least it was nice of him to get you a new drink, maybe he’s a semi-decent human being. Your thoughts momentarily pause when instead of an involuntary gag, a pleasant, surprised hum escapes your lips.

His eyes have crinkled at the corners because someone just said something funny. He’s using a single hand behind him as support and is nursing a drink with the other. He looks as carefree as ever. You can’t imagine that he’d take note of something so small, something like that- even if you grew up together. You'll try to brush it aside, though you doubt it's something that you’d be likely to forget about anytime soon. There’s a warmth blooming in your chest, you’ll blame it on the alcohol from earlier.

Christmas was just around the corner. The crisp, chilly air and stressed college students cramming for finals were more than enough to let you know the festive season was upon you. You sat in the new sandwich shop that you believe was strategically nestled between the library and the café. A cup of coffee remained untouched to your left and sandwich in hand, you were currently with your friend, Hyewon, who was not so subtly trying to get you to agree to go on a blind date. She's been trying ever since she found out your last date was almost a year ago, that it never ended well romantically, that you and Hoseok decided to become friends and still are today. "I'm telling you, he's really handsome and smart," said between a mouthful of her sandwich and a sip of her coffee. "My sister said he graduated from Yonsei this year with like, first class honours in economics or something."

"I'm just... still thinking about it."

And the truth is, you were. Ever since the topic came up nearly a month ago after one of your shared classes. After Hyewon got over her shock because "A girl like you should have dates every weekend," she took it upon herself to find you a date.

It's not that you were against dating, and relationships. During your earlier college years you tried a few times. Your first date tried to explain the basics of aerospace engineering to you, the thing you were majoring in. He was a history major, said he couldn't believe a girl could actually study something like that and asked how much your parents paid to get you in the program. You laughed it off and attempted to push it aside, that date ended early. You went on a few more dates after that but it always felt the same, like you were trying too hard to impress your date, like they weren't trying hard enough to get to know you. You decided to just focus on your studies. At the very least, you knew you were good at that.

“Please tell me yes- there’s a drone show next Friday at the Han River. You guys could watch it.” Hyewon looked so excited you promised to let her know by Monday. She squealed and you were sure you would have seen your ancestors if she had hugged you any tighter, told you not to forget to call her as she bounced off to her last final.

You remained in your corner seat. Unsure why you didn’t just leave with your friend. A couple of girls sat at the table behind you. While you were nursing your now cold hot chocolate you were hearing bits and pieces of their conversation. It’s not that you wanted to eavesdrop, but you couldn’t help the way your ears perked up when one of them mentioned ‘medical student from Yonsei’ and ‘date’ in the same sentence.

“I’m telling you he’s pretty quiet, and cute. I don’t even know how they got him to agree.”

“Ugh! I’m so jealous... should I transfer?”

“Shut up and look at the picture Kangchul sent me.”

“People like this really study medicine? If he looks like this, what will you wear on the date?”

“I dunno, it’s next Friday. You should come over and help me get...”

You didn’t stay to hear anymore.

Hours later you lay wide awake in your bedroom. Sleep has been evading you. It’s not like there was only one medical student at Yonsei. There were hundreds of medical students. It didn’t have to be the one you were thinking of. The odds were... low. You paid no mind to the tiny voice that was telling you that “the odds are never zero, though.”

You reached for your phone, surely you could always text the person in question, it’s not like you think he would hide it from you but in the same breath, it’s not like he has any reason to tell you if he were going on a date. Why would he? Your fingers hovered over his chat until the screen finally timed out. This seemed to wake you from your daze, the phone was tossed to the side. Why were you thinking of him anyway? If it were him, if he was going on a date, it definitely wouldn’t affect you. It shouldn’t, you won’t let it.

It was 8:44 am the following day when you texted Hyewon that she could arrange the blind date.

A week and a half later you found yourself standing outside of a restaurant in Hongdae. Your date was to meet you there so you could have a meal then head over to the drone show your friend mentioned. You’ve been waiting for... a while. Yunseo was running late and to make matters worse, when you pulled out your cell phone you found it was dead. It was cold, and you were cold, and maybe you were just stood up for this date. You wanted to cry, you thought it probably wouldn’t be that bad if you just broke down on the streets. Probably no one would notice if you did anyway.

Slowly, white flurries started falling from the sky. Couples started walking even closer together, some laughing at whatever they found funny. They all looked really cute. You really hated the cold, maybe you should have just stayed home. “You know,” came a familiar, deep voice breaking through the frigid atmosphere. “In my experience, standing in the cold like this is a sure fire way to catch a cold.”

You don’t need to turn around to know who that deep voice belongs to. You couldn't help the scoff that escaped you. Of course he would appear at a time like this. Why was he there and why did he have to show up just now when you were on the verge of a mental breakdown, probably. Your thoughts couldn't even spiral too far because now you were genuinely fighting back the tears that really, really wanted more than anything to be free. “Shut up, Yoongi. I don’t—” You couldn't help the way your voice wavered, or the sniffle, all things considered. “I can’t deal with this right now.” You didn’t hear a response from him, so you assumed that he had left. You didn’t expect him to be in front of you, slightly bending his head to meet your eyes with his brows furrowed. You hated when he looked at you like this. Like he could see right through you, like he knows things even you don't. You hate it, so you look away from his curious gaze. You didn't want him to find anything in yours.

It felt like hours before he gave up on his one sided staring competition. He released a sigh while undoing his scarf that was neatly wrapped around his neck. You shook your head, wanted to tell him it wasn't necessary, you didn't need his scarf- that you were fine. The words never even got to leave your mouth before he started putting his scarf on you anyway. “Don’t even right now ___, you’re cold.” It wasn't a question. He said it like he knew, he said it while he took his time to wrap his scarf around your neck, making sure to cover your nose. You think you’ve seen this film before.

《Some years ago》

You have been walking for quite some time now. Quiet footsteps crush dead leaves and twigs a small distance behind you. You’re not afraid, mildly annoyed maybe. But you’ve no need to be afraid because you already know who’s behind you. He’s been trailing after you in silence since you stormed off the campsite earlier in a desperate attempt to cool off. It was too much. The woodsmoke, the cheeriness, the ever persistent Song Eunji and her effortlessly beautiful messy bun hanging off the side of *your* neighbour, on your family camping trip. It was one thing to have to endure her incessant hovering while at school, but you’d think that at least your weekend far out of town would have been peaceful. Turns out that the universe had other plans for you. Not only did you have to endure Min Yoongi, but you also had to stomach having the president of his fanclub- whose family just also happened to plan a camping trip at this spot- here too. How fantastic.

You hold your thin jacket tighter against your body as you make your way deeper into the forest. Every step you took only seemed to strengthen the already growing irritation inside you. You longed for the warmth of your bed, the comfort of your home. Surely there would be nothing there to upset you this much. “Yoongi, either catch up or leave. You’re smart enough, I’m sure that you’re at least a little aware how strange it is to stalk after a woman at night.”

“Yn, you’re smart enough, I’m sure you’re aware that this is hardly considered stalking.” Still, his footsteps carried that steady pace and you could almost hear the smugness in his voice as he continued. “I’m simply taking a walk, I’d be more than happy to catch up if you’d let me.” You could almost imagine how his face looks right now, a raised eyebrow, his (annoying) little smirk, maybe his head was even tilted to the side. You hoped he could see your eyes rolling from behind you. All of that didn’t matter though, cause either way the chill breeze took the challenge in his tone and brought it straight to your ear.

“Yeah, well you could walk somewhere else.” He certainly had no issue being other places before, you thought. You didn’t see why he was being so difficult. Although, you’ve known Min Yoongi for what feels like your entire life. If he did have a middle name, perhaps it would be something along the lines of annoying, stubborn-

“It’s fine.”

Wind came dancing through the trees and brought not just a disturbance to your quiet surroundings, but also a drop in the already cold temperature you’ve been trying to ignore since you left the warmth of the campfire. Involuntarily, your body shivered. Though it was only trying to warm itself up, you suppose.

“Here, put this on.” He was shrugging off his own jacket. You hadn’t realised you’d stopped. Hadn’t realised that Yoongi found his way beside you. Maybe your middle name is stubborn too, because you were already shaking your head and pushing his hand and his jacket away, wanted to tell him he could keep his jacket, that you would warm up just fine on your own soon enough. It was his turn to roll his eyes. “Would you stop pretending like you’re not literally freezing cold right now,” He just puts the jacket over you anyway. “Just take it.” With no other choice (you were freaking freezing), you begrudgingly put your arms through the sleeve. You watched as he proceeded to fasten the buttons with what you’ll assume resembles care on his face- no sign of displeasure anywhere.

“You do this after school too, why?” Memories all bleed into each other from all the times he’s placed a jacket round your shoulders, or a scarf round your neck. The few times he’d given you gloves to wear. You know he knows what you’re referring to.

“Because,” He’s fixing the jacket collar around your neck. “Your mom would kill me if I let you catch a cold.”

He couldn’t be serious. To think that was the reason... “You don’t need to do it anymore.”

He hummed in response. “Yeah? Stop leaving your jacket and I won't have to give you mine all the time, deal?” His left hand ruffled your hair all while you glared at him. Oftentimes, despite your extensive vocabulary, you find it hard to find words to describe Yoongi and just settle for thinking that he’s so him. Right now, he was being very much him, even more so than usual.

A sudden high pitch screech pulls you out of your brooding and launches you into Yoongi’s arms, a scream escapes you. Surprised, his arms wrap around you while he looks around. “What was that?!” You were whispering, screaming, a unique mix of both things.

“I don’t know.” Your companion sounded as calm as ever, you weren't sure if that was a good or bad thing. But you couldn't focus on that right now.

“Will it kill us?”

“I don’t know.” You felt him shrug. Your annoyance from earlier resurges, but with a new friend along with it, fear.

“Well Yoongi, what do you know exactly, hmm?”

“I know the way back to the campsite.” You looked up at him, seemingly just realising you were quite cozily nestled in his arms. You jumped back, almost tripping on a rock, or tree root, you couldn’t tell as it was dark. But what you could see was the gentle look that remained on his face as he steadied you, you weren't sure how it made you feel. All you did know was that it was too much.

“Well, um…” You decided to turn your head away, clear your throat. Yes, that was a good idea. “Lead the way, I guess.” Yoongi chuckled, and soon you felt a warmth enveloping your hand. Similar to the warmth simultaneously growing in your own chest. This was the first time he’d ever held your hand. You stood shocked, frozen, unable to move. Unable to ask him why.

“Come on, so you don’t fall again. This just like the day I just moved int-”

“Oh my gosh, shut up about that will you!” That seemed to do the trick. Just when you think he’d give that story a rest, he’d find a way to remind you again. How infuriating. Still, you both couldn’t help the laughs escaping your lips as you head back hand in hand to your loved ones who were probably waiting for you at the campsites. Maybe you shouldn't have stormed off, but as the moon started peaking through the clouds lighting up your rugged path, you were glad he came to find you.

《Present day》

When he gently took your hand in his, your mind found itself back to the present where you stood in snowy streets as opposed to the serene forest. Was he really always like this? “C'mon.” He'd turned towards you, his head motioning in a general direction. Your mind wanting to stay lost in thought for a bit more, feet remained planted on the ground for a minute, maybe longer. Yet Min Yoongi remained a perfect picture of patience. Maybe it was his lack of frustration, or the fact that you didn't not trust him. But you let him lead you down the Hongdae streets, you follow with your hand in his.

AN: Thanks for reading this far! I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Now, I had every intention for this to be a tiny lil one-shot but the story clearly had other ideas in mind. I'm working on part 2 as we speak so hopefully I can share it with you all soon.

That being said, Special thanksies to my mooties @livingformintyoongi and @moochii-daisies for their encouragement and for accommodating my yapping 🥹🩷 and not to mention @oddinary4bts when I felt stuck and was at the brink of putting this fic to the infinite sides.

This, as well other fics that I'll post in the future will be cross-posted to Ao3 because of popular demand (1 person suggested), but yes it was by popular demand 🤭

Taglist

@livingformintyoongi @moochii-daisies @abcdefghilovejk2121 @ktownshizzle @peoniesnro

#min yoongi #min Yoongi × reader #yoongi drabble #yoongi fluff #yoongi x y/n #yoongi x reader #yoongi scenarios #yoongi oneshot #bts x y/n #bts x reader #bts fluff #bts drabble #bts one shot #Cathy wrote it

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ozzgin · 1 day ago

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Hiii for the delinquent siblings I have to ask in the beginning I thought it was inspired by Kawaishi Noboru (if u dont know him I had to look his name up too) the guy who killed Bitou Makio!! But the more I read it felt mostly inspired by the arson brothers :3 so can I ask which character inspired or what did, I just love hearing about like details like these 😅

You have no idea what rapture overwhelms me whenever someone talks to me about Crows x Worst lore like that. 😮‍💨

You’re very close to the truth, actually, though the sibling part was unintentional! Every now and then I’ll ponder scenarios with some of the character groups, most often Amachi and his gang. I was thinking it’d be interesting to have something in common with the guys, for example having the same friends in juvie.

Imagine Daitou’s reaction as you smile innocently and tell him that his pal behind bars says hi. Then I thought, hell yeah, maybe you could even date said guy in juvie. And what if someone else was waiting for you at his place?

While this involves unnamed, spontaneously created characters, I have considered romancing the Arson brothers many times. The only issue is; I feel it doesn’t last long, you know? It’s such a fantastic bad boy kind of romance at the peak of war, but then Zenmei gets his ass whooped and he vanishes to work at some factory. I guess we could hope to change the outcome, but it’s hard to picture him for the remaining of the series otherwise.

That’s the downside of high school delinquents, half the time they end up with some depressingly bland future. They’ll be leading a biker gang at 18, and two years later they’re working as a carpenter and going home to the girl they got pregnant even though they don’t like her that much.

Anyways, as you can tell, I’m elbow deep in delinquent manga brainrot. I have a Yandere!Amachi draft I started in a manic daze, and a comic idea I’m hoping to do someday. It only happens once or twice a year, but it hits hard :’)

#yandere siblings #crows x worst

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bullet-prooflove · 1 day ago

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All That Glitters: Part Two - History - OA Zidan x Reader (feat: Scott Forrester)

Tagging: @kmc1989 @trublu2u @mrspeacem1nusone @greenies-green @rosaliedepp @whateversomethingbruh @anime-weeb-4-life @daydreaming-belle @burningpeachpuppy @scarlettsakura @divergent146 @upsteadlogic @malindacath @skyesthebomb @kilikonakapamana @yezzyyae @redpool @stxrryswvrld @district447 @@soultrysworld

Companion piece to:

All That Glitters - Omar suffers after a tough case.

By the time you come on board the scope of the operation has grown exponentially. You’re talking dozens of tender age girls being trafficked through New York, Budapest, Paris and countless other cities worldwide.

Dotcom millionaires, judges, senators, the list of rich and powerful men involved in this thing just goes on and on and at the centre of it is Colin Kent, international sex trafficker. The man who has just absconded to Croatia, with fourteen-year-old Sunny, a girl he’s been using as his plaything.

When you get boots on the ground in Zagreb you don’t expect to see Scott Forrester waiting for you at the Europol offices. You knew you’d be meeting with a flight team; you just had no idea that it would be his. You’d lost track of him after he’d left your division.

It’s clear he doesn’t expect to see you either, you can tell by the way he says your name.

“When they said they were sending a specialist I had no idea it was you.” He says almost apologetically as he shakes your hand.

You’ve changed since he last laid eyes on you. Your hair’s a little longer, a little darker. You’ve gained a couple of pounds, it looks good on you, healthy. You have more tattoos than he remembers, he can see the bright colours decorating your forearms as you push up the sleeves of the white jumper that you’re wearing. Beside you OA clears his throat and it’s in that moment that Scott realises the two of you are more than just colleagues. There’s a protectiveness in the other man that he recognises because he's been there, in the exact same place.

There’s no time to reminisce, you hit the ground running. Scott doesn’t expect any different. You were tenacious when he worked with you seven years ago, that hasn’t changed.

“How do the two of you know each other?” OA asks him when they’re alone in the conference room. They’re sticking photographs of the girls to the glass wall, trying to figure out how many of them are in play. The scope of the investigation is growing, what started off as one girl has become over a hundred and it just keeps getting worse.

OA’s question is one that Scott’s been dreading because it takes him back to the worst night of his life. He’d been running the operation that landed you that apartment. It had been him who’d decided to use you as the UC, him who’d found you brutalised, half naked in that bed. He’d thought you were going to die that night. He’d sat in the chapel and prayed to a God he didn’t believe in that you’d pull through, that you’d make it back to him. In the aftermath of the surgery he’d sat by your bed, while your father flew in from Delaware, bore the brunt of his wrath when he told him what had happened.

“We worked together.” Scott says quietly, his focus fixated on the task at hand. “Before I took a job with the fly team…”

He sees the moment that it dawns on OA. He exhales suddenly, his arms crossing over his chest, his head dipping low. Scott can’t imagine what the other man must think of him.

“You’re that Scott.” He says knowingly. “The one she was with when…”

He trails off because he can’t bring himself to say the words and Scott doesn’t want to hear them.

“Yea.” Scott says quietly. “I’m that Scott.”

You dream about that night. The sky-blue dress you were wearing, the blood trickling down your face into your eyes, the sound of the material ripping under Tribeck’s hands as he undressed you. More than anything you remember the pain, the degradation.

It’s Omar that wakes you, his soothing voice breaking through the nightmare as his palm cups the side of your face, guiding your gaze up to meet his.

“You’re safe.” He whispers, his lips kissing away the salt that trails down your cheeks. “You’re safe here with me, no one can hurt you, it’s just the two of us.”

He goes through the breathing exercises. In for five, hold for five, out for five, the same way you do when he has a bad night. It takes a while for you to calm down, for your breathing to regulate, for your heart to stop pounding against your chest.

“It’s Scott, isn’t it?” He says softly as he holds you close. “Seeing him again brings it all back.”

“We were together a year before it happened.” You tell him, the grip you have on his t-shirt tightening. “It was his op, his decision to use me as the UC…”

You trail off because everything after that is fractured. Your world had fallen apart and Scott, he couldn’t look at you without seeing what had happened that night, without feeling responsible. It’s been seven years and he still harbours that guilt. It’s in the way he keeps his distance, the two of you have barely been in the same room since you landed in Croatia and you know that’s by design.

“You need to absolve him.” Omar whispers into your hair. “It’s the only way you’ll both be free of it.”

His palm comes to rest on the back of your neck, his thumb stroking over that delicate little spot, the one that he knows soothes you. He feels the tension start to seep out of your body, your muscles unfurling as you tuck yourself in against him.

“Tomorrow.” You say quietly. “I’ll talk to him tomorrow.”

Love Omar? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

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#oa zidan #oa zidan x reader #oa zidan x you #omar zidan #omar zidan x reader #omar zidan x you #fbi #fbi cbs #scott forrester

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erebus-luckycharm · 2 years ago

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I know my mental health is good when I'm listening to metal 19 hours a day and am obsessing over Japan non-stop

#I've noticed lately that how much my depression improved after I got out of law school #the worst part of it lasted for about a year an a half #and then anhedonia kicked my ass for 3 years #in 2021 my emotions started to come back #and now I think I'm emotionally fully functional again #HUGE yay for that #I can enjoy things again and I'm not only going back and forth between numbness and pain :')#The only thing that stresses me is that I couldn't focus on career stuff at all during this period from hell and now I'm nearing 30 #and the only thing I can put on my CV is 'beat depression ⭐👍🏻(for now)'

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lateseptemberdawn · 8 months ago

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No but like. Men could be the lowest of the low, not be knowing the most basic shit, inept at wit or anything else pertaining to the brain or mind or conscious, and yet the audacity be there. Like. How.

#legit listening to my brother tall of how many qualities he has which mainly just includes having a nice face and using his voice #like this is the dude who is in his last year of high school and absolutely refuses to look at a book for more than half an hour a day #you can imagine the amount of basic knowledgeable he would have with that time period dedicated to studies (not even dedicated hes forcedto)#he knows nothing of the most basic thing needed in class #knows nothing of even the language subjects #and yet thinks just because he can talk he can land a job #theres delusional and then theres this piece of shit #like this family is on the verge of struggling financially and this dude decides to use the lakhs of the rupees worth of tution to eat out #with friends and learn NOTHING #like #im legit so. like i wish he would succeed in life by the sheer power of luck and wishes bc god knows hes a degenerate #yet we care enough to not have him roam around like how it looks like he might bc lets be real if not that he'll end up being a worse pain #but seriously tho how does one be SO behind the very fundamental of human experience and still think their gaming skills and music taste #can save them in this world?#this dude is more or less addicted to his phone and literally like im not exaggerating hes so dumb you have one conversation with him and it #becomes glaringly obvious bc hes so delusional about it that he talks with full confidence but you realise hes not really talking hes just #spitting bs that hes heard on youtube 😭#not to drag him or anything but im seriously so sympathetic. how much of an idiot do you have to be?#to think HIGH SCHOOL education is worthless? hIGH SCHOOL. Tgats like. the very bottom of it.#worst part is he refuses to acknowledge he should get better 🗿#so theres no point in helping bc its one steo forward ten steps back with him #and also feels shitty as fuck to be guiding a fucking 18 yo thru SCHOOL #its fucking SCHOOL FOR CRYING OUT LOUD

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seilon · 6 months ago

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shouldn’t have checked my bank account as expected my mother has taken thousands more dollars from my savings and has almost run me dry more or less. Cool!

#I’m going to fucking call the bank and ask about a second checking account because she’s never going to make her own fucking account #it’s been like a year since she said she would and it’s just not gonna happen #she owes me thousands of dollars via me paying her fucking overdraft fees and she always says ‘what you think I won’t pay you back?’ no!!!!!#no I don’t!!!!!!! because you literally never have!!!!!!!!!!!#and where the fuck are you going to get like 8000 dollars anyway. because that’s what she owes me at the very least #even if you want to factor in like. paying her monthly for the groceries she buys and cat food and whatever that’s still. thousands of #dollars. and the worst part about it is I just have no safety net anymore #because my savings is basically nothing at this point. like nothing that can help in a dire situation anymore.#I keep thinking about whatever im going to have to end up paying for top surgery and I WOULD have a significant amount saved up to #contribute to that but haha! no I don’t! it’s fucking gone!#and I’ve been getting paid basically fucking nothing lately because of how few hours they’re scheduling me so that does not fucking help #my last paycheck was literally like half of what I should be getting. I made like 1K in the past two paychecks. that’s fucking depressing #anyway I’ve given myself a headache #I’ve been avoiding looking at my bank account because I knew it would be bad and it’d stress me the fuck out but I also have been anxious #not knowing and my mother making a few vague comments that implied she must have fucked me over. so I checked today and yeah she sure did #if I don’t make a new checking account that she can’t access i am actually going to be broke within the nenxt few months at this rate #my head hurts and I am so upset I am so upset I work so fucking hard and it doesn’t even matter i just lose money constantly #I get nothing I just pay her fucking fees and pay for my tuition and pay for everything else of any significance #and I am not exaggerating I work my ass off. I am the only person I know at my job who begs to work holidays and extra days and stay as late #as possible and it . doesn’t even matter #im going to kill myself I swear to god. there’s shit I need to buy. what am I supposed to do.#kibumblabs #vent #like shit I need to buy for WORK. my manager is getting on me about not having proper shoes for example and yeah I can get a discount #through shoes for crews but I still dont have the fucking money for anything anymore #not unless I want to run myself into the fucking ground #I need a new binder badly. I need new black pants also for work since mine are so faded at this point.#I only have one fitted sheet that doesn’t have giant holes in it #I can’t stop thinking about my last paycheck it was literally the worst I’ve seen since starting this job a year ago. fucking infuriating

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youremyonlyhope · 7 months ago

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I'm not a "new musical theatre style music" person. Never have been.

Even when I was doing voice lessons, I'd steer towards the golden age or jazzy musical theatre songs. My voice teacher would have to drag me kicking and screaming towards adding anything new musical theatre to my repertoire. For a while, the most modern song in my book was I Know The Truth from Aida, and I wouldn't count that as new musical theatre style since I mean more the Pasek&Paul or Joe Iconis type.

And now I have an audition coming up for a small production of a show in that style and I'm supposed to sing a song in a similar style. And I'm looking at all my sheet music like... let me do some Cole Porter... or Gershwin... at least Sondheim please...

#look i do have SOME newer musicals in my book. but like i said. kicking and screaming.#i'm probably gonna end up doing 'I Think That He Likes Me' which is not IN a musical it's just new musical theatre style #as part of a songbook for some writing duo that i can't remember the name of and it's 2:45am so i can't care enough to look it up.#and it's the only one in my sheet music folder that i'm like 'ok. this is TRULY the right style' and i know it's good in my voice #and it's a cute song and i do like it and it definitely fits the overall vibe of the show #and though i haven't sung it in like 4 years i still remember 90% of the words and have time to study it before the audition #but while trying to find that song deep deep in my folder i pass by other songs i just love so much more #and i'm like ahhhhhhhh why #and i'm not even like 'god i hope i get it' (see A Chorus Line. that's more my type) i truly don't care if i'm cast or not #and yes i can technically audition with any song i could ever want it's just suggested to do the same style #but i know the entire creative panel who i'll be auditioning for and the last 2 times i auditioned for them i sang the same song #only because it's a GOOD song that fit both shows i was auditioning for (Can't Stop Talking About Him by Frank Loesser)#(perfect audition song since it's short at like 28 bars and you can pick the tempo and do a lot of character stuff)#(but see this is what i mean. like 1/3 of my entire sheet music folder is golden age musicals. then half is 60s-90s.)#(and then the last chunk are the few new-ish musical theatre and some pop music.)#(if i took performing more seriously i'd have a wider range but this is truly just for fun and just for me. so i do what i like.)#i don't want to go in for a 3rd audition with the same creative team and doing the same song. especially since it doesn't fit this time.#so once again. dragged kicking and screaming. over to new musical theatre territory. unwillingly.#if i get cast we'll have to see if the show itself even grows on me since honestly i think there's maybe 2 songs i like in it.#it's definitely not the worst new musical theatre style show but it's also not one that drew me in.#ok wait while looking through lists of 'new musical theatre' shows to find one i actually like (i think just Legally Blonde sorry guys)#(every other new musical in the last 20 years that i like did something interesting with the music like Come From Away)#i ended up finding out that apparently 13 was adapted into a netflix movie? when did that even happen?#i mean i don't care for that show either but i thought i was at least up to date on movie adaptations.

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nartml · 8 months ago

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history finals tmr, and the material spans across roughly 90 pages. i know roughly 3 of those.

fucking hate history.

#not to be confused with actual history. im cool with her. hate it at school though #im cooked #worst part is i can't be bothered #goddamn bane of my existence this subject #my fucks have gone to war and im only wondering when they'll come back #i genuinely won't feel anything other than complete contention even with a 5/20 🙏#why couldn't we be writing chemistry. or math. or physics. or english. or greek. or literally anything else #(preferably sciences)#when this is over -in less than 12 hours- i will throw a party and cry tears of joy #i can't do this anymore #im not being paid enough #bring back last year #when the material was about thirty-forty pages and i knew it by heart (i leanred half of it the night before)#this shit is rough

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corkinavoid · 1 month ago

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DPxDC Ring of Rage? More Like Ring of Engage

The thing is, Tim didn't mean to put it on. He was just kind of playing with it to keep his hands busy while he was thinking about the recent murder case. GCPD had their hands full with the serial robbers that didn't rank high enough to catch Batman's attention, and Tim never had a problem with helping the police if he had time.

And the ring was a perfect fidget toy, if he is being honest. Small and plain enough not to distract him, but the round stone in the middle was loosely attached, making it able to spin inside the frame. Which is what he did, again and again, like those fidget spinners.

Of course, he was just destined to drop it sooner or later. And then, when he reached under the table to pick it up, his finger caught inside the ring, and, well.

The ring was now firmly on his finger.

The problem was that he couldn't take it off.

It wasn't stuck, at least not in the general sense of it - Tim could easily spin it around, and it wasn't tight. But it wasn't loose either, and as soon as he tried to move it past the knuckle, the ring heavily disagreed, almost like shrinking down and absolutely refusing to be detached.

Barbara suggested soap, which didn't work. Dick tried for a more mechanical approach, first with pliers and then with a laser, which the ring resisted with no effort. Cass, who was actually the one who brought the damned thing into the Cave after one of her adventures in Hong Kong, just smiled and shrugged, which was of no help either. Damian offered to cut the finger off, which probably would have helped, but Tim rather liked all his limbs attached.

Bruce called Constantine. The magician took one look at the ring, barked a humorless laugh, and pat Tim on the shoulder sympathetically.

"Congrats, mate," he said, a wry smile on his lips, "I hope you file for divorce."

Although, while all the rest of the Bats and Birds devolved into fits of hysterical laughter (Steph), indignant sputtering (Damian), and cries of outrage (everyone else sans Alfred, who was pointedly unimpressed), Tim couldn't even bring himself to be surprised. Really, his life had been a shitshow since he was around ten. It's not like he didn't expect himself to be accidentally married to some otherworldly magical creature by this point.

The worst part - worse than the actual engagement, that is - was that Constantine couldn't exactly tell them who the spouse was.

What he did say was that the Ring belonged to the King of Infinite Realms, Keeper of Unseen Worlds, and Eyes of Universe. But those were only titles, and, as John Constantine begrudgingly admitted, there has been a change in the management recently, so no one really knew what the new almighty monarch looked like or what they were, much less their whereabouts.

"You can't blame me for not being keen to find out, though," John said, wincing, "The last one was a bloody tyrant, and the Realms operate under the right of conquest rule."

At least, the mage assured them that since the being had not yet come to collect their shiny new spouse, they might never show up at all. The Ring has been lost for ages after all, so maybe the King didn't even remember having one. Or, the previous King didn't, and the new one didn't know about or didn't care.

The first week after the incident, they spent anxiously researching and worrying. Bruce even went as far as making Tim wear a tracker at all times, which was not great, but he did appreciate the gesture. Kind of.

After the first month with no sign of any changes, the worry started to abate. In half a year, most of the family stopped trying to keep an eye on Tim at all times lest he suddenly disappeared. Two years later, even Tim himself treated the Ring as a natural part of his daily life. The stone inside was still a great fidget toy, engagement or not.

Three years, one month, and five days after Tim first put the Ring on his finger, when the world was falling apart and breaking in front of him and there was not a single thing he could do to stop it anymore, Tim pressed his lips to the cold, dark strip of unknown metal on his finger.

"Whoever you are, I don't even care, please," he whispered in a useless prayer, his voice hoarse and his throat dry, "please, help."

And the world came to a stop with a short, amused chuckle.

"Oh, I thought you'd never ask."

[part 2 ->]

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hazellight11 · 1 year ago

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I think helplessness has to be my least favorite feeling.

#vent #this is about my uni's dining services btw #the new company they have contracted fucking sucks #the one they had last year also sucked but this one is somehow worse and i didn't think it was possible #genuine grief rn for the campus cafe. they brought one old menu item back by overwhelming popular demand #but i have no idea if they'll ever bring back the one thing i got every single weekend or not #they're almost definitely never bringing the freal milkshakes or good sodas back #the worst part is i have a hall government position literally dedicated to talking to them on behalf of everyone in the hall #but they still haven't sent us an email about the meeting #it's been two and a half weeks and i'm frustrated as fuck and i hate this helplessness!!!#i also have to put up with the shittiest time for food in the morning every single day because of my class schedule!!#every morning before class i go get breakfast and every morning i'm frustrated and disappointed at the options #and every morning that's what sets the mood for the whole fucking day #i wanna scream

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foone · 1 year ago

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why are printers so hated? it's simple:

computers are good at computering. they are not good at the real world.

the biggest problems in computers, the ones that have had to change the most over the time they've existed, are the parts that deal with the real world. The keyboard, the mouse, the screen. every computer needs these, but they involve interacting with the real world. that's a problem. that's why they get replaced so much.

now, printers: printers have some of the most complex real-world interaction. they need to deposit ink on paper in 2 dimensions, and that results in at least three ways it can go on right from the start. (this is why 3D printers are just 2D printers that can go wrong in another whole dimension)

scanners fall into many of the same problems printers have, but fewer people have scanners, and they're not as cost-optimized. But they are nearly as annoying.

This is also why you can make a printer better by cutting down on the number of moving elements: laser printers are better than inkjets, because they only need to move in one dimension, and their ink is a powder, not a liquid. and the best-behaved printers of all are thermal printers: no ink and the head doesn't move. That's why every receipt printer is a thermal printer, because they need that shit to work all the time so they can sell shit. And thermal is the most reliable way to do that.

But yeah, cost-optimization is also a big part of why printers are such finicky unreliable bastards: you don't want to pay much for them. Who is excited for all the printing they're gonna be doing? basically nobody. But people get forced to have a printer because they gotta print something, for school or work or the government or whatever. So they want the cheapest thing that'll work. They're not shopping on features and functionality and design, they want something that costs barely anything, and can fucking PRINT. anything else is an optional bonus.

And here's the thing: there's a fundamental limit of how much you can optimize an inkjet printer, and we got near to it in like the late 90s. Every printer since then has just been a tad smaller, a tad faster, and added some gimmicks like printing from WIFI or bluetooth instead of needing to plug in a cable.

And that's the worst place to be in, for a computer component. The "I don't care how fancy it is, just give me one that works" zone. This is why you can buy a keyboard for 20$ and a mouse for 10$ and they both work plenty fine for 90% of users. They're objectively shit compared to the ones in the 60-150$ range, but do they work? yep. So that's what people get.

Printers fell into that zone long, long ago, when people stopped getting excited about "desktop publishing". So with printers shoved into the "make them as cheap as possible" zone, they have gotten exponentially shittier. Can you cut costs by 5$ a printer by making them jam more often? good. make them only last a couple years to save a buck or two per unit? absolutely. Can you make the printer cost 10$ less and make that back on the proprietary ink cartridges? oh, they've been doing that since Billy Clinton was in office.

It's the same place floppy disks were in in about 2000. CD-burners were not yet cheap enough, USB flash drives didn't exist yet (but were coming), modems weren't fast enough yet to copy stuff over the internet, superfloppies hadn't taken over like some hoped, and memory cards were too expensive and not everyone had a drive for them. So we still needed floppy disks, but at the same time this was a technology that hadn't changed in nearly 20 years. So people were tired of paying out the nose for them... the only solution? cut corners. I have floppy disks from 1984 that read perfectly, but a shrinkwrapped box of disks from 1999 will have over half the disks failed. They cut corners on the material quality, the QA process, the cleaning cloth inside the disk, everything they could. And the disks were shit as a result.

So, printers are in that particular note of the death-spiral where they've reached the point of "no one likes or cares about this technology, but it's still required so it's gone to shit". That's why they are so annoying, so unreliable, so fucking crap.

So, here's the good news:

You can still buy a better printer, and it will work far better. Laser printers still exist, and LED printers work the same way but even cheaper. They're still more expensive than inkjets (especially if you need color), but if you have to print stuff, they're a godsend. Way more reliable.

This is not a stable equilibrium. Printers cannot limp along in this terrible state forever. You know why I brought up floppy disk there? (besides the fact I'm a giant floppy disk nerd) because floppy disks GOT REPLACED. Have you used one this decade? CD-Rs and USB drives and internet sharing came along and ate the lunch of floppy disks, so much so that it's been over a decade since any more have been made. The same will happen to (inkjet) printers, eventually. This kind of clearly-broken situation cannot hold. It'll push people to go paperless, for companies to build cheaper alternatives to take over from the inkjets, or someone will come up with a new, more reliable printer based on some new technology that's now cheap enough to use in printers. Yeah, it sucks right now, but it can't last.

So, in conclusion: Printers suck, but this is both an innate problem caused by them having to deal with so much fucking Real World, and a local minimum of reliability that we're currently stuck in. Eventually we'll get out of this valley on the graph and printers will bother people a lot less.

Random fun facts about printing of the past and their local minimums:

in the hot metal type era, not only would the whole printing process expose you to lead, the most common method of printing text was the linotype, which could go wrong in a very fun way: if the next for a line wasn't properly justified (filling out the whole row), it could "squirt", and lead would escape through gaps in the type matrix. This would result in molten lead squirting out of the machine, possibly onto the operator. Anecdotally, linotype operators would sometimes recognize each other on the street because of the telltale spots on their forearms where they had white splotches where no hair grew, because they got bad lead burns. This type of printing remained in use until the 80s.

Another fun type of now-retired printers are drum printers, a type of line printer. These work something like a typewriter or dot-matrix printer, except the elements extend across the entire width of the paper. So instead of printing a character at time by smacking it into the paper, the whole line got smacked nearly at once. The problem is that if the paper jammed and the printer continued to try to print, that line of the paper would be repeatedly struck at high speed, creating a lot of heat. This worry created the now-infamous Linux error: "lp0 on fire". This was displayed when the error signals from a parallel printer didn't make sense... and it was a real worry. A high speed printer could definitely set the paper on fire, though this was rare.

So... one thing to be grateful about current shitty inkjet printers: they are very unlikely to burn anything, especially you.

(because before they could do that they'd have to work, at least a little, first, and that's very unlikely)

#printers #my writing

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notmeowse · 2 months ago

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That AMA marks the end of Dragon Age.

In my opinion.

I'll start by saying that I have played all 3 of the previous games repeatedly, I've loved the series for 15 years, more than half my life. These games inspired me to become a writer and they've shaped a lot of my tastes and interests in shows and writing -- to say they were formative is kind of an understatement. Don't want to go on and on about how much I loved them, that's not the point here.

I didn't care for Veilguard for pretty much all of the reasons people have already discussed at length on Reddit and Tumblr. The writing is comprehensively bad, the romances are easily the worst Bioware has written by pure virtue of having the most cookie-cutter pacing and shallow characterization I've seen across their games, the lore has been shafted in every direction, and the nuanced storytelling and roleplay I came to expect from the series has been taken out back and shot in the head.

All, apparently, in the name of a "clean slate". It seems to me that, rather than familiarizing himself with the existing lore of the game he took the creative reins on, Epler clearly had a vision for Dragon Age (or perhaps a different IP entirely) in his head that he decided to transplant into the game (and possibly Trick? But they've said so little beyond defending their work that I can hardly theorize what direction they were coming from). That being a sanitized, wildly self-contradicting, morally absolute shitshow focused on distancing itself from the previous games as much as possible. Now, I know it's unrealistic to blame one person entirely, and I don't blame him entirely. Corinne was there. Trick was there.

But if it wasn't already evident from the numerous interviews Epler's given on the game as well as his participation in the Q&A's (while the actual lead writer of the game has been completely absent in not just the marketing, but in most fan-related interaction pre and post-launch outside of BSKY), this AMA seems to have confirmed, more than anything else, that Epler doesn't understand the game nor does he understand its audience. Neither does Corinne Busche, who despite being Game Director for only the last two years of development, has been answering lore questions a) like she has any fucking clue and b) like she thinks Dragon Age is a cozy-gamer IP, meant to appeal to people that want uplifting stories with uncontroversial characters, morally upright heroes, and unquestionably evil villains.

So as of today's AMA, I think I've finally had enough. We're just outright retconning the lore in Reddit AMA's now, I guess. Among other things. I'll provide a few examples, just so we're all on the same page.

This was part of Epler's response to why Solas didn't have his cult following in the game (insert "We Kind of Forgot" meme here):

Solas' experience leading the rebellion against the Evanuris turned him against the idea of being a leader. You see it in the memories - the entire experience of being in charge ate at him and, ultimately, convinced him he needed to do this on his own. And his own motivations were very different from the motivations of those who wanted to follow him - he had no real regard for their lives or their goals. So at some point between Trespasser and DATV, he severed that connection with his 'followers' and went back to being a lone wolf.

The fact that this (the not caring bit) directly contradicts the writing in the actual game is absolutely INSANE to me, moreso than the lack of Solas's spy network (which he apparently carried with him for 10 years only to conveniently drop right before the ritual? Because he clearly had them research Rook?). But in regards to the not caring -- here's a line from Solas's memory of killing Mythal in Veilguard, which. I'll get to Mythal in a minute:

Why should I not tear down the Veil, and bring back immortality to all the elven people? They deserve it!

Which is it? Does Solas care about the people he's saving (the venn diagram of people he's saving vs. the people following him is surely a circle, i.e. elves) or not? Does he even care about the spirits trapped behind the Veil anymore or is it just convenient to abandon them and have him only care about elves, now? What happened to saving The People? What happened to him not identifying as an elf in his conversations with a Dalish Inquisitor? And what the absolute fuck happened to him wanting to bring back the magical marvels (that the ancient elves did in fact achieve) that were greater than anything we see in Thedas today? Here's what Epler has to say about elven magic, now:

I do agree that the elves have had their place in the sun at this point. [...] The thing about the Evanuris is that, ultimately, they were able to take a very specific type of magic and shape it into doing what they wanted. But even their understanding of magic was only skin deep [...] Even the magic that Tevinter wields, the magic of the Southern mages, is different from what the Evanuris used. The magic of the Evanuris is powerful but it's sterile, and it's constrained. So while the Evanuris have made magic work in a way that's more predictable and understandable, it's not the only kind of magic out there, and even then, I'd say they understood it at a very surface level. People were confidently describing how the natural world worked back in the 16th century. Very few of them were right.

First of all, Tevinter has been stated in previous games to have clumsily adapted ancient elven magic for their own, but they did adapt it. To the point where even Solas is surprised that Corypheus achieved effective immortality -- by binding himself to a dragon the same way the Evanuris did. So, cool, more contradicting the lore here. "They understood it at a very surface level" you mean when all of the magic of the Fade wasn't locked behind the Veil? You mean when magic flowed freely through the world? What do you mean, Surface Fucking Level? The entire point of the Dalish elf culture is what they lost; this wasn't the ancient elves thinking the sun revolved around the earth, the Veil was their fucking Library of Alexandria burning. Oh my god. I still cannot believe he said this.

And how have the elves had their day in the sun? I'm sorry, was Arlathan not given to... the Veil Jumpers? Instead of the Dalish? What happened to all the Dalish clans in the south, who had no infrastructure when the world was apparently blighted to hell? I guess they're just gone now! They've had their day! The story of the Dalish and the Evanuris is over (also confirmed in this AMA), and it apparently ends with the final snuff of the candle that is their culture. Congratulations, Chantry, you've won! Only took two genocides and a double blight, but we're done with the Dalish now! We get your mind-numbingly superficial factions instead!

What happened to Mythal, by the way? What happened to "She was betrayed as I was betrayed, as the world was betrayed! Mythal clawed and crawled her way through the ages to me, and I will see her avenged!" What happened to the reckoning that will shake the very heavens? John's answer to this:

People grow and change over time. Mythal's essence - and in particular, the fragment of her spirit that Morrigan carries, that she got from Flemeth - is not the same Mythal who he knew millennia ago. Centuries of living in this world and being around the kinds of people Flemeth found herself around - the Hero of Ferelden, Hawke, the Inquisitor - changed her views, and made her realize her own culpability in turning Solas into the kind of person he is now.

Oh, right, okay. So she was pissed for like a thousand years, got her big speech about the impending "reckoning" out 10 years ago, and then she just chilled out because the last 3 heroes were neat people. What a fucking joke. And yes, here is the confirmation that the Evanuris story is over --

The story of the Evanuris is done - the gods are dead (or imprisoned) and Thedas is in a state of flux and uncertainty. I imagine that whatever happens next is going to be a surprise to everyone, including the people of Thedas."

So I guess Mythal's reckoning is never coming. One of the most fascinating characters in the series, shrouded in mystery for those first 3 games, PROMISING US a blaze of glory, only to fizzle out in this one. Again, and I can't emphasize this enough, for Epler's clean fucking slate. And we've not just tied up her story, but also the Veil and the Blight:

When Solas bound himself (or, depending on your ending, was forcibly bound) to the Veil, it severed the connection that the Blight had to the waking world. The reality is that the Veil has been leaking ever since the Magisters first entered the Black City, and the dreams of the Titans gave it its terrible and awesome power. Now that the Veil is fully repaired, the Blight lacks that motive force, and being so close to the epicenter of that change has stripped the Blight in Minrathous of its vitality. It's calcified now - dead - and Bellara/Neve no longer suffer its effects. If they'd been anywhere else, further from that epicenter, it would've likely been different and they still would be looking for a cure.

So the Veil is permanently fixed now because our half-dead Dread Wolf bound himself to it (a decision I still don't understand) and that somehow fixed every single hole ever poked in it. Fully repaired. No more holes, no more "Veil is thin here" because tons of people died in the same spot, nope, we're washing our hands and leaving it (and the spirits) behind us because we've wrapped up both the series-long Veil storyline and the blight storyline in a big red bow.

And Epler tells us Solas not only bound himself to the Veil but fixed it entirely in one fell swoop, no ritual required, just a little slice to the hand. Again, all in the name of a clean slate, so any future installments or media centered around Thedas can turn away from this story.

Then there's this. What we can expect from future installments, I freaking guess. The aforementioned roleplay getting taken out back and shot:

Q: "What lead you to the decision to step away from active conversations with the companions as in previous Bioware games, where you can initiate them at any moment and ask exhaustive questions?"

John: "For us, because of tech limitations, it became a choice between exhaustive investigate conversations, or letting the companions move more freely around the Lighthouse. With the kind of experience we were going for, one where seeing the team grow around you is paramount, we felt that seeing them interact in common spaces (and in each other's rooms) made more sense."

Literally confirmed that they chose companions moving freely about the cabin over ... interacting with them outside the handful of cutscenes we got. Who in their right mind would think this was a good call in a Dragon Age game? A series that quite literally prides itself on complex character interactions and storytelling? So they could... sit in different places? Are you kidding me?

They don't see an issue with the game's reception. They don't have any interest in addressing or responding to criticism. They're either happy with their choices or EA's got a gun pointed at their heads, I'm honestly not sure anymore. I used to believe the latter was true, but looking at both Epler's and Busche's responses today, I'm inclined to believe the former.

So I think that's it for the series. Not that I thought it was going to get another game after this, but on the absolute off chance it did, what would be the point? The best stories were ruined. Anything left they have to tell is going to read a lot like Veilguard -- superficial, morally absolute, flagrantly disrespectful to the lore, and delivered in a very poorly written package.

#bioware critical #dragon age critical #veilguard critical #veilguard spoilers #dragon age the veilguard critical #dragon age #dragon age the veilguard

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wonsiwon · 20 days ago

Text

party’s over, pack your stuff | l.hs

sinopsis | when heeseung returns from a party, he’s met with the shocking sight of his furious girlfriend tossing his belongings out the window and locking him out of the house. caught in the middle of a heated argument, the two find themselves pushing each other’s buttons, testing patience and limits as frustration and love clash in a chaotic standoff.

genre | stablished relationships?, fluff, angst, comedy

paring | bf! heeseung x fem!reader

you and heeseung had been together for two years, and while there were plenty of good moments, the bad ones seemed to creep in more often lately. the fights were becoming a regular thing, especially on the afternoons after he came back from parties. he’d spend hours at a friend’s place, leaving you at home, overthinking and imagining the worst. he’d stopped inviting you to these big gatherings, and it was hard not to wonder if he was cheating. the thought of him with someone else, while you were lying awake trying to convince yourself it wasn’t true, was eating you alive.

then today, everything you feared felt real. you got pictures of him at a party, grinning at some blonde girl—the same grin that used to be just for you.

heeseung didn’t see himself as a cheater. in his mind, he was just being “nice,” brushing off the attention he got because of his looks. but that smile, the one he flashed at other girls, made you want to punch him in the face.

it was around 3:20 in the afternoon when heeseung pulled into the driveway, still half-drunk and barely focused on the road. all he could think about was crashing into bed—probably not with you since he already expected a fight. not that it mattered to him; you’d forgive him eventually. or so he thought.

he didn’t even get the chance to park properly when he spotted you through the window. without thinking, he jumped out of the car, his eyes scanning the scene. clothes were scattered all over the grass, and then, just as he stepped closer, a pair of jeans flew out the window, landing in a messy heap.

“what are you doing?” heeseung asked, his eyes flicking between the clothes scattered on the ground and your furious figure at the window. “are those my clothes?”

you didn’t bother answering. instead, you grabbed a shoe and hurled it at him, hitting him square in the head.

“baby, what the hell?” heeseung muttered, trying to dodge the rain of items falling from the window. he knelt down, quickly stuffing clothes into his arms, but it felt like no matter how much he picked up, more kept falling.

“grab your stuff and get out of here.” you said, and tossed a pair of jeans at him.

heeseung caught them mid-air and looked down. “are those my favorites?” he asked, still not fully understanding what was happening.

he then glanced around, noticing people from the neighborhood walking by and stopping to watch. he could feel the eyes on him, making the situation even more awkward.

heeseung was completely thrown off guard. he didn’t understand what was happening. it didn’t make sense to him.

“can you just—” he started, but the words got stuck. “what’s going on?” he looked up at you again, trying to find some clue in your expression, but you just stood there, arms crossed, staring at him coldly.

heeseung sighed heavily, running a hand through his messy hair as he stood there, surrounded by his stuff scattered all over the grass. his headache was getting worse, and your angry expression through the window wasn’t making it any better.

“y/n, can we just talk like adults?” he pleaded, trying to calm the situation down.

“adults?” you snapped, leaning out the window with a glare. “were you acting like an adult when you were grinning at that blonde all night?”

heeseung’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. his mind went back to the party last night, and after a few seconds, his eyes widened as it hit him what this was all about. “you’ve got it all wrong—”

“wrong?!” you interrupted, your voice trembling with anger. “what part of you smirking at her, leaning in all close, and god knows what else am i getting wrong?!”

“she was just talking to me! i wasn’t doing anything!” heeseung argued, waving his hands in a dismissive gesture. “you always overthink this stuff. it’s exhausting!”

“oh, i’m exhausting?!” you yelled, throwing a sweatshirt at him with force. “you know what’s exhausting, heeseung? sitting here, while the guy i’ve been with for two years goes around dipping his dick in any female that flashes him a smile!”

heeseung’s eyes widened, and he snapped back, his voice rising. “are you serious right now? i wasn’t fucking anyone, y/n! she was just talking to me! you’re blowing this way out of proportion!”

“talking?” you laughed bitterly, leaning further out the window. “heeseung, do you even hear yourself? do you think i’m stupid? you didn’t even bother inviting me to the party!”

heeseung threw his hands up in frustration. “y/n, it’s not what you think! i didn’t invite you because i knew you hate those parties!”

you clenched your fists at your sides, voice shaking with anger. “was it good, huh? was it good fucking that bitch while you had your actual girlfriend at home?”

heeseung’s eyes widened, completely caught off guard. “what the hell are you talking about?” he shot back, gripping the sneakers you threw at him. “i didn’t sleep with anyone!”

“stop lying!” you spat, leaning even further out the window, your anger boiling over.

“y/n..” he started, his voice getting more desperate. “you’re seriously out of your mind right now. i wasn’t doing anything! i didn’t touch her, i didn’t—”

“save it!” you interrupted, gripping the window frame to steady yourself.

heeseung dropped the pile of clothes back onto the grass and started walking toward the door, his face set with determination.

“don’t bother.” you said, a hint of satisfaction in your voice while holding up a shiny new set of keys. “i changed the handle.”

heeseung stopped in his tracks, looking at you, completely shocked. “why the fuck would you do that?” his eyes narrowing as he looked at the keys in your hand. his mind was still reeling from the argument, but now he was thrown off even more by what you just said.

you just smirked as you held up the keys. “you really thought you could just walk in here and keep doing whatever you want?”

heeseung’s jaw clenched, and he dragged his tongue across his cheek, clearly trying to keep his temper in check. both hands rested on his hips as he glared at you. “so, this is how it’s gonna be now? you’re locking me out like some stranger?” he was furious—this whole situation felt ridiculous to him. “you really think a locked door is gonna stop me?”

you rolled your eyes, leaning against the frame. “what are you gonna do, heeseung? break a window? crawl through the vents?”

he chuckled darkly. “did you change the back door too?”

your face went pale. you hadn’t. and even though you could’ve lied, you knew he wouldn’t buy it—your hesitation was clear. you watched his eyes flick to the side of the house, and then it clicked. before you could react, heeseung was already walking toward the edge of the house, that knowing smirk spreading across his face.

“gotcha.”

panic set in, and you pushed off the window frame, clutching the keys tightly in your hand. “this motherfucker..” you muttered under your breath.

heeseung took off running toward the backyard, vaulting over the fence with ease. panicking, you bolted down the stairs, nearly tripping as you tried to beat him to the door.

you hated yourself for how dumb you’d been, but even more, you hated the fact that heeseung was actually pretty smart. too smart. and the worst part? he wasn’t wrong. as much as you wanted to blame him for being insufferable, you couldn’t deny it was your own slip-up that handed him the upper hand. again.

you cursed under your breath, skidding to a halt in front of the door just in time to see heeseung standing in the frame, his tall figure all over you. his smirk was insufferable as he leaned against the door, looking down at you with a cocky expression.

you gasped, turning on your heels and sprinting back toward the stairs. “i hate you!” you shouted as heeseung darted after you, his long strides closing the distance quickly.

“i know you don’t, princess!” he called out, laughing as he chased you up the stairs.

your heart raced as you reached the top, your mind scrambling for a plan. heeseung wasn’t about to let this go, and you weren’t ready to give in just yet. you slammed the door of the bedroom, hoping to lock it before heeseung reached you. but just as it was about to close, his foot wedged itself in the gap.

“leave me alone!” you yelled, your voice desperate as you pushed against the door with all your strength.

“not a chance.” heeseung growled, using his weight to push it open.

the door flew back, forcing you to stumble a few steps away. before you could react, heeseung grabbed your wrist, his grip firm but not painful.

“let me go!” you shouted, twisting and squirming in his hold, trying to free yourself.

“stop it, y/n!” he barked, his voice low and steady, though his breathing was heavy from the chase. “you’re acting like a kid.” heeseung’s grip tightened for a second, but he didn’t pull you back. his gaze softened just a little, and his voice dropped. “baby, stop. i’m just trying to talk.”

but you weren’t ready to listen. you were too angry. “i don’t care what you’re trying to do.” you snapped, pushing against his chest. “you don’t get to act like nothing’s wrong when you’re out there doing god knows what with other girls.”

heeseung couldn’t help but let out a small laugh, the tension in his body easing slightly. “i didn’t do anything, baby. it was just a stupid conversation—nothing more.”

“bullshit!” you yelled, shoving against him harder, but all it did was make him chuckle. “why are you laughing? you think this is funny?”

“i’m not..” he said, his smile only growing wider. “it’s just funny how you get like this, all grumpy.” he reached out and pinched your nose, a playful gesture that only made you more frustrated.

you swatted his hand away, glaring at him. “this isn’t funny, heeseung!” you snapped, your voice sharp with annoyance.

he raised his hands in mock surrender, still smirking. “okay, okay. i get it. but you’re overreacting, baby.” his tone was teasing, but there was an underlying seriousness in his eyes. “i’m not doing anything wrong.”

“you always say that,” you shot back, your anger flaring again. “how am i supposed to believe you?”

“listen, i don’t know who sent you that picture, but i swear, princess, i wasn’t flirting with her.” he stepped closer, gently tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “you can ask my friends.”

you scoffed, crossing your arms. “i don’t trust your friends.”

he raised an eyebrow, his tone calm but firm. “you trust jungwon though. he was there.”

the mention of jungwon made you pause for a moment. jungwon was the calm one in the group, always reliable, and someone you could count on when it came to keeping things straight. but the one you should really keep an eye on was no one but jake. he was the king of stirring up trouble, and you couldn’t count the number of times he’d egged heeseung on to do something stupid.

your silence gave heeseung an opening. he softened his voice, stepping closer, but still keeping a little distance to test the waters. “look, i get it. i screwed up, and yeah, maybe i should’ve kept my distance from her. but you know me, baby. you know me. i don’t care about anyone else.”

you rolled your eyes, though your resolve was faltering slightly. “you’re always sweet-talking your way out of this stuff, heeseung. it doesn’t change the fact that you were grinning at her like she was the most interesting person in the world.”

“sweet-talking?” he repeated, a playful smirk creeping back onto his face. “baby, i don’t need to sweet-talk. i’m just telling you the truth.”

heeseung took another step forward, and this time you didn’t move back. he reached for your hands, holding them gently in his. his thumbs brushed against your knuckles in slow, soothing circles.

“i don’t want to fight with you anymore..” he said softly, his voice steady and earnest. “you’re the one i come home to. you’re the one i care about. that’s not going to change because of some random girl at a party.”

you crossed your arms, raising an eyebrow. “i’ll forgive you… only if you stop going to these stupid parties. and definitely not hang out when jake’s around.”

heeseung nodded quickly, a look of relief washing over his face. “i promise, no more parties like that. and no more hanging around jake if it’s going to make you this upset.”

you felt his hands gently grip your waist, but you didn’t pull away. instead, you looked him in the eyes, studying his expression. “i mean it, heeseung. i don’t care how much fun you think you’re having. if i ever catch you doing something like that again—”

“you won’t.” he cut in and gave you a reassuring squeeze. “no more parties, no more drama, just us.”

you let out a small sigh, feeling a weight lift off your shoulders. “good. that’s what i need to hear.”

you let him pull you into a hug, though you kept your arms at your sides, still not fully giving in. he pressed his chin against the top of your head, his voice soft as he muttered, “thank you, baby. i’m glad we’re on the same page now.”

you stayed there for a moment, both of you just breathing, when suddenly he froze, his expression shifting. “wait—” he said, looking toward the window. “the clothes.”

you followed his gaze, realizing he was just now remembering the mess outside. before you could say anything, he groaned and buried his face in his hands. “god, the neighbors must think we’re insane.”

you crossed your arms, smirking. “well, we kinda are.”

heeseung turned back to you with a playful pout. “can’t believe i almost lost my future wife and my home in one day.”

your cheeks burned at his words, but you refused to let him off that easy. “future wife?” you repeated, raising an eyebrow. “who said i’d marry you after this?”

he grinned, stepping closer and wrapping his arms around you again. “you’ll forgive me.” he said confidently. “you love me too much.”

you rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at your lips. “you better start picking up those clothes before i change my mind.”

heeseung groaned dramatically, dropping his head onto your shoulder. “can’t we just leave them there? maybe the wind will blow them away or something.”

you pushed him off with a light shove, crossing your arms. “nice try. i’m not going to be the one explaining to the neighbour why your underwear is hanging from her tree.”

heeseung winced at the thought, rubbing the back of his neck. “fine, fine. but you’re helping me. you threw them out, after all.”

you raised an eyebrow, leaning against the doorframe. “oh no, this is all on you, mister. think of it as your punishment.”

he sighed, giving you a mock glare before turning toward the stairs. “you’re cruel, y/n. absolutely ruthless.”

“and don’t forget it.” you shot back, following him downstairs to the front yard.

the scene outside was somehow even more chaotic than you remembered. a couple of kids from down the street were pointing and giggling as they passed by, and neighbour from next door was giving heeseung a very disapproving look from his porch.

“great.” heeseung muttered under his breath, bending down to pick up a pair of socks. “i’m the neighborhood clown now.”

you couldn’t help but laugh as you watched him gather his clothes, his tall frame awkwardly hunched as he tried to scoop up as much as he could at once. “well, you kind of earned it.” you teased, leaning against the fence.

heeseung straightened up, his arms full of crumpled t-shirts and jeans. “yeah, yeah. laugh it up. just wait until i get back inside.”

you tilted your head, smirking. “oh? and what are you going to do? throw all your clothes back out?”

he flashed you a grin, the kind that made your stomach flip despite everything. “nah. i’ll just make you fold all of them.”

you rolled your eyes, but a small smile crept onto your face. “dream on, heeseung.”

he chuckled, shaking his head as he bent down to grab the last of his things. as much as you wanted to stay mad at him, moments like this reminded you why you’d stuck around for two years. heeseung was frustrating, infuriating even, but he was also the guy who could make you laugh when you least expected it.

as he stood up, arms overflowing with clothes, he looked over at you with a sheepish smile. “uh, a little help?”

you sighed, walking over to take some of the load off his hands. “you’re lucky i don’t actually hate you.”

heeseung’s grin widened as he leaned down to press a quick kiss to your cheek. “and i’m lucky you’re still here.”

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