#with it. If I disagree with a book I’d have still learnt something but I’d feel like I’d wasted the time I invested in it.

[divorceblogger]

I get the impression that I’ve become such a movie guy lately (160 movies logged this year…. 🚬) because I tend to have a harder time discovering and collating good books for my tbr. letterboxd offers many interesting lists and the ratings generally tend to correlate with the objective merit of a movie so I think I also find movies pertaining to specific genres and themes very easily? anyway how do all of you discover good books ❤️

[fairyoftbz]

childish fear | l. juyeon

⚔ pairing: stranger!juyeon x single mom! fem! reader ⚔ genre: fluff ⚔ wc : 3.2k ⚔ tw: none ⚔ a/n: im so sorry it's been so long but my work keeps me super busy and i hate my unposted fics that i wrote in the past, hence my absence. i promise to come back here asap!! <33 ⚔ requested: no

╰☆☆☆☆╮

“Mommy, where are we going?” your daughter asked for the nth time as you guided her foot by the ankle in her shoe. Her tiny hand leant on your shoulder while you fastened the Velcro straps and zipped up her jacket, walking out of your apartment to the corridor of your floor. She watched you locked the front door and sliding the keys in your handbag before grabbing her hand to the elevator.

“As I’ve told you, we’re heading to a coffee shop to see Uncle Kevin and Jinseon, remember?” she clapped in her hands as if she just learnt the news, despite her asking this question over five times since she woke up. You forgave her because she was at the age where she would find everything fascinating and barely pay attention to what you said. You chuckled and shook your head with a smile as her curious eyes observed the elevator, touching the mirror and gasping at the coldness of it under her palm. It was almost guaranteed that she didn’t listen and will ask again in a couple of minutes.

“Where are we going?” here we go again, her tiny voice reaching your ear above the roaring motor of the bus. She grabbed your leg as you were typing something on your phone with one hand, the other gripping the metallic bar as tight as possible as your daughter was not the most balanced child.

“Baby, I’ve told you many times that we are going to see Kevin and Jinseon at the coffee shop because Mommy and Uncle Kevin have to do something for work,” you looked at her with stern eyes, something you always did when she wasn’t paying attention.

“But why aren’t we going to their house? It’s so big!” she argued, and the bus doors opened, quickly sliding your phone in your back pocket and jumped out of the bus with your daughter in your arms.

“Uncle Kevin wants to change the interior of the house, so people work there, and it’s not safe for them and us to meet there. But I promise that we’ll go back there soon!”

“I won’t be able to draw with Jinseon?” you shook your head from side to side, and your daughter pouted, nuzzling her face in your neck.

“Not at his house, but maybe he brought a colouring book like yours today!” you exclaimed, and her mood lifted instantly, getting all giddy and happy to share her passion with her best friend.

Pushing the door of the coffee shop, you were instantly met with a reassuring warmth and the good smell of coffee, placing your daughter back on the ground as you lined up to order. The place was quite busy, but you were right before the time people were fighting to get a table.

“Mommy, this table!” she asked and pointed her little finger towards a table near the window, her little topknot moving on her head as she looked up at you.

“Good choice, baby,” you said, and she grabbed your hand again, noticing her gaze shifting to something scared. You frowned as she went to stand in front of you, her hands gripping your thighs as she stared up at you.

You asked for your usual order and a strawberry smoothie for your daughter, who happily giggled when she saw the sliced fruit inside of her transparent cup. She laughed and ran to the table you had agreed on occupying, her little hands pressed on the seat as she hoisted herself alone on it.

A few minutes after giving your daughter her pens and colouring books, your phone rang in your back pocket, getting you out of your bubble of focus as you stopped typing.

“Hello?” you said, and your best friend’s voice reached your ear.

“Hi Y/N, I’m really sorry to warn you only now, but I won’t be able to make it with Jinseon.” A wave of disappointment flooded your heart, but you didn’t raise it.

“Oh my. Did something happen?” you asked as your daughter was too busy colouring a monkey pink to even hear what you were talking about.

“Thankfully no, I uhm… I forgot that my in-laws invited us to a five-star restaurant today,” he said, and you bitterly chuckled, feeling sorry for him as you knew the exhausting relationship he had with them.

“Sounds fun,” you sarcastically said as you heard him sigh on the other side of the phone, “don’t worry, we can always meet up another time.”

“Won’t Chunae be disappointed?” Kevin asked, and you emitted a laugh, quickly looking to the side as someone at the table next to yours drew a chair.

“I’ll handle her, don’t worry about it. Have fun with your most favourite people in the world, then!” you sarcastically said, and you heard him sigh.

“Thanks, but I’d rather die than witnessing my mother-in-law brag again about the new diamond necklace she bought and lie on how she’s not close to bankrupting,” you giggled and winked at your daughter, amused by the situation. That was what you got to have your stepson handling the family accounts and his best friend as an assistant counsellor. You both could see her lie to everyone, and it was funny.

“Try to make her understand that you know she’s lying in front of everyone else and see how she reacts,” you suggested and heard him gasp at your words.

“I beg you Y/N, can you please schedule us an appointment so I can ruin her?”

“Of course,” you opened another tab on your computer, typing and clicking on a few things to finally get to your best friend’s schedule.

“You can tell her that she can come on Friday at 1 pm to discuss about her financial state. I just sent her an email,” you announced, and Kevin sighed, imagining him biting his lower lip and clutch his fist in satisfaction.

“You’re the best. I gotta go now,” you took a sip of your drink and wished him good luck before hanging up.

“M-Mommy?” you heard your daughter whisper, barely making out her words as the coffee shop music and the hustling was quite loud. You smiled, but it immediately vanished as you saw her scared state, pen lingering on the pages of her colouring book. Her eyes were drawn to the table next to yours, her mouth trembling from time to time, close to crying.

Following her gaze, you noticed a man around your age and immediately understood your daughter’s fear as you took in the sight. The man was scrolling on his phone, his white t-shirt hugging his broad shoulders and slender torso perfectly. His biceps flexed each time he swiped up his finger on the screen or took a sip of coffee, Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. You weren’t going to lie that he was super handsome, but something else couldn’t go unnoticed in your eyes.

His tattoos.

He was covered in them. Your eyes could scarcely spot some natural, intact skin. Arms, forearms, chest and neck, only his face remained untouched. His jet-black hair was as dark as his eyes, yet they still held something soft and human in them. A thin nose with plumped, pinkish lips, it would have been almost impossible for you to guess that he had tattoos all over his body if you only saw his face.

You found him quite attractive to say the least, but it was quite the opposite for your daughter. She found tattoos terrifying, only accepting the small, hidden ones Kevin had. Her eyes welled up with tears, and you gently called her name, gesturing her to come closer. She jumped out of her seat, carefully going around the table from the opposite side where the man was sitting and walked towards you.

“Baby, those are just tattoos. You see what you draw and colour in your books with Jinseon? This man decided to do it on his skin because he likes drawings too!” you explained gently as your daughter couldn’t tear her gaze off the man.

“But it’s scary,” she mumbled, and you shook your head, gently cradling her cheek.

“Do you find the drawings on Uncle Kevin’s skin scary?” you asked, and she disagreed, finally looking up at you.

“It’s the same for him. Like Uncle Kevin, he decided to get them on his skin because he likes the shapes and colours. Do you understand?” you smiled as she wiped her teary eyes, nodding, trying to look confident. But you knew your daughter, she was still scared.

“Do you want to switch seats with Mommy?”

“No,” she said in a frail voice, and you kissed her cheek while rubbing her back. It was always the same. Bizarrely, when she feared something, she wanted to stay close to it as if she was determined of getting over her irrational fear.

Chunae walked back on her seat and resumed colouring, her gaze looking to her left from time to time. You smiled and stared at your computer again, getting distracted by the man as well, but not for the same reasons as your daughter.

“You’re a mother Y/N, don’t let those stupid thoughts get inside your head,” you closed your eyes and mentally slapped yourself, heavily sighing as you answered some emails, focusing back on your work.

You were so concentrated on your tasks that you didn’t even notice what was happening in front of you. Chunae became terrified as the man caught her staring, his eyes transforming into crescent moons when he softly waved at her. Her eyes widened and started colouring faster, her nose almost touching the paper as if she wanted everything around her to disappear. It happened once, twice, but she remembered what you always told her; never talk to strangers. So when the young man whispered a small ‘hi!’ to her, she panicked and called for you.

“Mommy!” she got you out of your work bubble, and you stared at her from above your computer screen, fingers still typing on the computer. Your hands stopped when you noticed her little forefinger pointing at the man, whose chocolate eyes were quick to shift to yours.

Shit, he was really handsome.

“What is it, sweetpea?” you asked and lowered your computer screen. “I’m sorry for her behaviour, she's not usually like that,” you said, grabbing her hand as you sent an apologetic smile to the man.

He shook his head with a smile. “Don’t worry about it, I get it. She’s still quite young,” you were sized by a shiver when two sets of white, perfectly aligned teeth almost blinded you as his mouth stretched into a bigger smile.

“I’m five!” she said, pouting, crossing her arms on her chest, staring at the table with furrowed brows.

The young man’s eyes widened, and pursed his lips, trying to hold back a smile as he acknowledged her stubbornness. You puffed and rolled your eyes at her behaviour, noticing with a smirk that she was still glancing at his tattoos.

“What’s your name?” he asked after looking at you, asking for permission. Your daughter’s unsure eyes stared at you, and you nodded, allowing her to talk to him.

“Ch-Chunae,” she answered, and his mouth transformed into a surprised ‘o’, letting out a small gasp.

“That’s a very pretty name, I’m Juyeon,” he said, and your daughter blushed, a veil of shyness appearing in her eyes as he held out his hand for her to shake it. You smiled as he indirectly complimented you for choosing her name, his gaze softening as she timidly grabbed his hand. Her eyes couldn’t help but scrutinise his tattooed hand with attention, making the man smile fondly and brightly.

“I have drawings all over my arms, do you want to see them?” he asked, keeping a great eye on you to see any sign of reluctance. Or maybe it was for something else, but you didn’t need to know about this.

“But they’re scary,” she said, and Juyeon whole-heartedly laughed, drawing the sleeve of his t-shirt to the top of his shoulder.

“Look at this one,” he said as he twisted his biceps, noticing a dragon spitting fire and your daughter’s eyes widened. He then turned his forearm to show her a dolphin near the crook of his elbow, smiling as he watched your daughter’s expression change as she saw all his tattoos on his arms. She was now mesmerised by the tattoos, the gentle, deep voice of the man explaining to her as she stared at his inked arms.

“Do you wanna colour this one?” he asked, finger showing the rose on the back of his hand.

“Really?” Chunae was surprised by his question, and Juyeon smiled at you, your daughter already grabbing her red pen.

“You really don’t have to,” you embarrassingly said, but the man shook his head, resting his large hand in front of your daughter, who pushed all her belongings to the side.

“If that can keep her quiet while you work, I don’t mind,” he stated, and you raised your eyebrows, a grateful smile drawn on your face.

Colouring the red rose ended up inking the poor man’s entire arm, who had a lot of patience and discipline when it came to children. Chunae went over the line with her pen a few times, only to have him reassure and praise her to continue when she started feeling guilty.

“Oh no!” she gasped as her hand clumsily went over the scales of the snake circling his forearm, Juyeon chuckling before wetting his thumb to erase the misdrawn ink. “It’s okay, it’s okay, keep going,” he said in a gentle tone, smiling at your daughter as she was looking for reassurance.

You had told him a few times that he didn’t have to stay the entire day only here to occupy your daughter, but he genuinely was alright with that. He looked almost happy to talk with you and your daughter since you had stopped working a few moments ago to exchange a few words of politeness with him before heading home.

“Chunae, finish your smoothie before we go home,” you said, and she obeyed, nodding as she placed her pen down and started sipping on her drink.

“I’m really sorry for this,” you gestured to his arms, but he was quick to cut you.

“Ma’am, it's okay, please stop apologising, I gave my agreement for her to do this. You seem like busy parents with your husband, I’m glad I could help,” he smiled, and you frowned.

“H-Husband?” you asked and Juyeon’s eyebrows shot up in surprise.

“O-oh? Wasn’t it your husband on the phone?” you shook your head at his words, only to have him purse his lips in utter embarrassment. “Sorry for assuming,” he said, the tip of his ears turning pink just like his cheeks.

“It’s okay, it was my best friend. I’m actually a single mom,” you explained, and he nodded, his features expressing admiration.

“Wow, you must be super strong then,” he said, and you blinked a few times, discerning something sad appearing in his eyes as he stared at your daughter. It was inappropriate and way too intrusive to ask him about his reaction, so you just offered him a grateful smile.

“I have to admit that it’s not always easy being alone in this, but with a bit of discipline and organisation, you can manage to make it work!” you tried to enlighten the mood, and Juyeon laughed along, but his smile had lost its splendour.

He cleared his throat, and you stood up, your daughter being finally done with her smoothie. You helped her place her pens in the pouch before clearing your belongings off the table, Juyeon standing up as well.

“Will I get to colour your tattoos again?” Chunae asked, and you looked at her sternly, but Juyeon laughed and smiled, gently ruffling her hair.

“This only depends on if your Mommy wants to see me again,” Juyeon crouched down to her level and made sure to get her hair out of the way before zipping her light jacket up to the chin.

You were taken aback by his answer, looking at him in the eyes. Vaguely smiling, he stood back up and stuffed his hands in his jeans pockets, thumbs playing with the belt loops as he waited for your answer. You breathed in heavily as you stared around you but in his eyes, trying to find an excuse.

“I mean… why not?” you eventually said, and his face brightened, his ears going pink at your answer. You grabbed your daughter’s hand as she was about to run to Juyeon and walked to the exit of the coffee shop, not believing what you’ve just agreed to.

Meeting a man? After your ex? With all the work and busy life that you had? Were you crazy?

Juyeon held out the door for you, and you thanked him, your daughter now almost best friend with the man she feared when he appeared. You sighed and replaced your bag on your shoulder, offering a soft smile to the man.

“Is it okay if we wait a bit before all of... this? I have the deadline of a big project that is coming up next week and it has a considerable influence on the future of my career, I really don’t want to mess it up,” you explained, and Juyeon nodded, his hand going to your bag to shove your key ring back inside since it was falling out.

“It’s more than okay, I’ll wait as long as it takes you to finish this and be ready to meet up with me,” he said, and your mouth fell open, surprised by his attitude. The last man you dated and loved unconditionally dropped the family he had created with you for a career abroad and another woman, his words and behaviour offering warmth to your broken, lonely heart.

You got your phone out and took Juyeon’s number, a relieved smile painted on your face. Maybe not all the men were as selfish and nasty as your ex.

“Call me if you need anything. It can be help, someone to look after her, comfort. Whatever you need, I’ll try to help you out as much as I can,” he said and rested a hand on your shoulder, gently rubbing it.

“Thank you,” you said, and he nodded with a smile.

“Good luck with everything,” you beamed and waved at him, your daughter imitating you as you started walking to the bus stop, hailing the vehicle as it was approaching.

Juyeon walked in the opposite way to the small parking lot in front of the coffee shop, his leg swinging over his motorcycle. He sat there for a minute, watching you get on the bus before the doors closing behind you, holding his helmet in hand. You were a busy, ambitious woman, you had set your priorities high, and you were not going to change them for a man. He was a bit scared of committing to a relationship with a busy woman and a child, yet that didn’t prevent him from wanting to get to know you and finding you attractive. He loved it even if he was a bit anxious about getting hurt, as it happened in his past way too many times to his likings.

His gloved hand moved side to side as the bus drove past him, your daughter on your hip as you both waved at him. The smile you had plastered on your face reassured him, hoping that you would give his heart a break and not break it.

[dameronology]

wait on {din djarin x reader}

summary: boba fett is a good therapist, and din djarin is spectacular at being nosey. the result? a much needed conversation. perhaps there’s a silver lining. {kinda based on this song}

warnings: angst, language, swearing, s2 spoilers

this one hurts a lil bit but i promise the ending is happy. enjoy!!

-jazz

The air between you was thick, not unlike the beskar that the Mandalorian was wearing. 

It was funny, really, because you’d never minded the armour all that much before. Your ability to see straight through it and see Din Djarin for what he really was had been what made him fall in love with you, and you with him. Now, it felt like a barrier between you. Inches of thick metal and fabric, shielding him from the world around him. From you. The one person he usually held closest to his heart; the one person he’d let see his face for the first time in years. The man was hardly a conversationalist at the best of times but he’d opened up to you. Shared his world with you and intertwined it with yours. Built something with you that you'd both protect with your lives. 

Now, he was straying away. Forever attached by an invisible string, but with galaxies and galaxies between you. Even though he was mere inches from you, sat two seats over, there was a chilly air; if your relationship was a warm, welcoming house, the atmosphere he’d plunged you both into was the cold winter’s night on the other side of the glass. You wanted to go back, to drag him inside and slam and bolt the door behind you. Instead, you were forced to watch through the windows, knowing what was there but never quite truly getting close enough to let it envelope you. 

You couldn’t hold it against him. The last few weeks had been rough on you both, and it only come to a head today. Grogu had been taken by the Imps and the Crest had been blown up before your very eyes. It was one of those times that truly and wholly showed the difference between you and Din: you sought him out and he pulled away. You’d learnt a long time ago not to follow him. You wanted to. Fuck, you wanted to, but you’d learnt the hard way that it was a bad idea. 

Despite the icy silence and ache for your kidnapped toad son, you were still grateful for the fact Boba Fett had offered his ship as transport and shelter. You weren’t entirely sure what his deal was, but Din seemed to trust him, and so by extension, you did too. Things were a little cramped in the hull of the ship, but there was a spare sleeping quarters for you and the Mandalorian to squish into, assuming he’d let you. You didn’t want to ask him, because you were scared of the answer. 

Instead, you found yourself sat out on the dusty plains of...wherever the hell you were. Boba had parked the ship up overnight so that you could rest; it seemed to be some kind of desert planet. Not too different to Nevarro or Tatooine, but perhaps a little colder. The sky had long faded to black, casting a darkness over the sandy plains ahead of you. The chilly air was a welcome contrast against the stuffiness of the bedroom - it wasn’t even hot in there, just filled with some kind of inexplicable tension. And not the sexy kind; the regular, all-consuming type. You could feel it slowly etching into your frontal lobe, sinking in its claws and giving you a stress head-ache. Letting out a few deep breaths, you let the gusts of cold wind blow over your bare arms. 

‘A little cold out here, isn’t it?’

The voice was gravelly and unfamiliar, but one that you knew belonged to Boba Fett. 

‘Yeah, maybe.’ You didn’t turn around to look, instead letting your eyes stay focused on the distance. There was nothing ahead. Just darkness and sand. ‘Fresh air is nice, though.’

‘Or maybe the air inside is bad.’ He countered. Boba took a seat on the rock beside you, jokingly whacking his knee against yours. ‘What’s on your mind?’

‘Just...what happened today, I suppose.’ You replied. ‘We lost the kid, and our ship.’

‘You’re handling it better than your Mandalorian.’ He replied. 

‘I don’t think he’s my Mandalorian.’ You snorted. ‘He’s just...he doesn’t normally deal with so much at once. I think he just needs time to process it all, you know?’

‘Perhaps.’ Boba said. ‘And do you always make excuses for him?’

‘I beg your sweet pardon?’ You turned to look at him. 

‘Forgive me if I’m overstepping, but I’ve always been an observant man.’ He began. ‘I saw how you immediately went to him, to check on him, and how you fought beside him,  yet he’s barely even looked at you.’

‘Ouch.’ You muttered. ‘You might be observant you but certainly do not tread lightly.’

‘My apologies.’ He curtly nodded. 

‘It’s not always been like this.’ Your words felt forced. You were making excuses. ‘And it won’t always be.’

‘You know him better than anyone, or so I assume.’ Boba reminded you. ‘But don’t be afraid to remind him what he has, despite what he’s lost.’

He was right. Din could be distant, and he could be fucking ignorant without even trying, but you hadn’t strayed from his side once. Not for a second. It could be frustrating to deal, with but you loved him with your whole being, in a soul-consuming sorta way, and you knew he was capable of coming around. Your mother had always preached songs of love being patient and kind but as you saw it, it was frustrating, and at times the most inconvenient thing in the world. You must have had the patience of a saint to deal with him. He was just lucky he made it worth it (and that underneath all the armour, he wasn’t too bad to look at. It certainly helped his case). 

You let out a sad laugh. ‘I couldn’t. Di - Mando already struggles to express his feelings and I’d only make it worst if I said he wasn’t doing it well enough.’

‘You know your worth.’ Boba said. ‘Only you can decide if he appreciates it enough.’

‘He does.’ You quickly replied. ‘I know he does.’ 

He gave you a doubtful look, one that said I think you’re bullshitting, but I won’t disagree. He was simply sharing his observations, even if they were a little much. But the man hadn’t had any proper social interaction for a long time, so you could hardly blame him - and he had a sort of wise air to him, like he’d been round the block a couple times. He certainly seemed like the sort of person you should listen to.

‘I’ll leave you with this: the life of a Mandalorian is complicated.’ He dusted off his knees, before standing up. ‘You should make sure it’s worth it before you fully commit.’

‘I-’ you tried to speak, but you were cut off by the sound of a twig snapping under someone’s boot. Why the fuck were there twigs in the desert? More to the point, why was that your immediate thought? 

You both sharply turned around, coming face-to-face with a Mandalorian. Not a Mandalorian, but the Mandalorian. The one you’d just been talking about. The one whose heart would have been broken into a million tiny pieces if he’d even a word of what you just said. And, from the way his helmet tilted ever so slightly to the left, you figured he’d heard more than enough. Fuck. 

'Don’t let me stop you.’ His modulated voice wavered ever so slightly. ‘I’ll see you inside.’

He turned on his heel, heavy steps taking him back towards the Slave I. To anyone else, his body language hadn’t changed, but you could read him like a book. A complicated book, and one that was missing more than half its pages and was in a dozen different fucking languages, but one you’d read a thousand times. Understanding Din Djarin was hard, and you’d only just begun -  barely touched the surface in fact - but it was more than anyone else could say. 

‘Wait!’ You leapt up, almost comically falling over as you rushed after him. 

Sensing that his presence was probably not welcome, Boba returned to his seat on the rock, silently hoping that Fennec Shand was either a) asleep, or b) had enough common sense to stay the fuck out of the way of whatever was about to go down. 

‘I swear to maker if you shut that door -’ you were cut off by...the door shutting in your face. Djarin: 1. You: 0.

You let out a small groan, slamming your fist against it. 

‘Okay, maybe I deserved that.’ You quietly muttered. ‘But will you please listen to me?’

Silence. 

‘Fine.’ You splayed your fingers out against the metal. ‘Ice me out, Din Djarin. I’m more than used to it by now.’

There was a gruff hmm from the other side of the door. Had he really just taken offence to that?

‘It’s funny, really.’ You continued. ‘Because the part of that conversation you didn’t hear was me defending you. Like I always fucking do, because I know that despite everything, you’re a human being and you love me.’

There was a small thud, as though Din had placed his hand in a similar position to yours.

‘But Boba has a point.’ Your voice fell to a whisper. ‘I keep giving and I get nothing back. Instead of letting me in, you just shut me out and I know you’re upset at what he said but for the love of everything holy in this shitty world, do not prove him right.’

It was a risky ultimatum, and not one you’d seen coming. Your chest had tightened as soon as the words left your mouth, because you knew that if Din stayed silent, that was it. You’d have to let him go; to accept that you would never get back what you putting in. Before, you were able to convince yourself that you were okay with that but maybe, just maybe you weren’t. Waiting around for something that had no guarantee of happening was like beating a dead horse that had no guarantee of coming back to life. The only thing that was promised was emotional exhaustion and then eventual death. You would have liked to have found something between those two waypoints - whether Din Djarin could be the one to give it to you? You didn’t know. 

After a moment of silence, the door finally opened, and you came face to face with him. Like actually face to face with him; no helmet, no armour. Just a loose tunic and tired brown eyes, matched with lazily-shaven facial hair and knitted brows. That was Din. Your Din. 

‘Can I just...can I just talk for a moment?’ He asked. ‘I have something to say and I want to get it right.’

‘Of course.’ You nodded. 

‘I’m not hurt by what you said.’ He stated. ‘I know I don’t show you enough love and it hurts that I don’t know how, but I am trying. I promise you that much.’

You gave him a tearful smile. ‘Yeah, I know.’

‘I just wish that you could say it to me and not to him.’ He murmured. ‘I don’t want you to hold back on anything, ever. You can always come to me. Even if it’s about me.’

‘I get that.’ Your eyes fell to the floor. ‘It’s just that I know you’re trying your best and I’m scared you’ll think that your best isn’t enough.’ 

‘It’s not.’ Din’s words took you by surprise. ‘It’s not enough, but one day, I hope it will be.’

‘I don’t know what to say, because if I deny it-’

‘- you don’t have to say anything.’ He cut you off. ‘I want to give you the world. And I will, if you’ll be patient with me.’

You took every word as gospel as he said it. The Mandalorian was a lot of things, but a liar wasn’t one of them. And to his credit, every promise he’d made to you before, he’d delivered on. You didn’t doubt for a second that this one would be the same. It wasn’t even naivety or wishful thinking. 

‘I mean, I’ve come this far.’ You tried to crack a joke. You finally looked up from the floor, his brown eyes meeting yours. 

‘I love you.’ He took your hands in his, words firm. ‘That’s all I can give you right now. I’m sorry.’

‘Din.’ The words barely come out as a whisper. ‘Never apologise. Please never apologise. I just...it’s nice to hear it, you know? A little more often than every time you almost die.’

‘Are the words enough on their own?’

‘Yes.’ You squeezed his hands. ‘Because I know you mean them.’

Din wrapped his arms you, pulling you tightly against his chest. It was warm and soft, miles away from the cold armour that so often greeted you. He held you tightly and with a new kind of might you were previously yet to experience, clinging onto you as though it were the last time. It wasn’t - it was far from the last time. Rather, it was the first time. The first time that he’d spoken of a future with you, or fully promised himself to you. You knew you would get there one day. You’d just needed him to say it himself before you could believe it. 

Din Djarin was giving you tiny little pieces on himself each day, and one day, you would have all of him. 

tags: @meshlababy @bo-kryze @poestardust @aqueencomplexx @princessxkenobi @cosmic-rich @captn-andor @buttercup--bee​ @maharani-radha​ @kat-r-in​

[wherever-the-chaos-is]

Lan Wangji’s communication skills and other misunderstandings

I think Lan Wangji is good at talking and can express himself well. But he restrains himself from speaking his mind and his heart for various reasons or would prefer to express his intentions through action. Just because he’s quiet and introverted, doesn’t mean he’s bad at communicating.

I know there’s already a post explaining how Lan Wangji’s speech works in Chinese in terms of syntax and pragmatics, and I think that this can be translated well in English (or in other languages). To be able to pack as much meaning in as few words as possible and to be able to adjust your speech according to the receiver are such huge signs of intelligence, wit, and skill in any language, which is something Lan Wangji is able to accomplish.

Some of my favorite descriptions related to Lan Wangji’s way of expressing himself are the following:

Chapter 73:

"Lan WangJi rarely spoke when he was outside. Even when they debated cultivation techniques during Discussion Conferences, he only answered when others questioned or challenged him. With utmost concision, he overcame, without fault, the lengthy arguments of others. Apart from this, he almost never spoke up."

Chapter 120:

"It definitely wasn’t out of cutting corners that Lan WangJi’s comments were short. He wouldn’t slack off in the slightest way, no matter how simple the task was. Rather, it was his habit to be as concise as possible, no matter in words or writing." 

Chapter 94:

"Looking at him, Wei WuXian felt a place in his heart go soft. He also thought it was funny. This one’d been like this ever since he was young. When he wanted something, he never said anything on the surface, but rather chased after it as much as he could in his actions."

Chapter 64:

Wei WuXian, “If he doesn’t wish to talk about something then I won’t ask.”

Lan XiChen, “But, with WangJi’s personality, how could he say anything if you do not ask? There are some things that even if you ask him he would not say.”

Chapter 126:

Wei WuXian, “That’s more like it. Just say it if you want some. You’ve really been like this ever since you were young, holding everything in and never saying what you want.”

In chapters 54 and 55, Lan Wangji talks so much after having been pushed to his physical and mental limits, answering Wei Wuxian’s remarks in anger and frustration. Lan Wangji also talks at length when he tells a story or relays information like when he tells the public version of Xiao Xingchen, Song Lan, and Xue Yang’s story in Chapter 29 and when he tells Wei Wuxian all about the Xuanwu of Slaughter also in chapters 54 and 55 (Seriously, go read those chapters. I can’t even quote it because Lan Wangji talks a lot and they have probably their longest conversations in the book in those chapters.)

Lan Wangji is also perceptive enough to know when he will not be understood the way he intends and can adjust himself well. 

Chapter 74:

Lan WangJi, “Speech is forbidden when dining.”

For Wen Yuan to understand, he repeated it again using simpler language, “Do not talk when you are eating.”

Wen Yuan quickly nodded and buried himself in the soup, not saying anything anymore.

When he is nervous, he can get a bit tongue-tied like the average person:

Chapter 111:

Lan WangJi stared straight at him. Something strange glowed in his eyes. He started, “Then…”

Wei WuXian, “Then what? Stopping in the middle of the sentence isn’t your style, Lan Zhan.”

To offer some comparison, Wei Wuxian who is even wittier, more verbose and just generally more talkative, also gets tongue-tied when nervous:

Chapter 95:

The surging heat finally began to retreat. Wei WuXian’s head was still dizzy as he rambled on, “In these two lives, you’ve helped me a lot. I know you’re… really nice to me. You’re really great! Apart from thank you, I don’t know what else to say to you… Anyways, towards you, I feel… I feel…”

But this wasn’t the point at all. Wei WuXian had never confessed like this to anyone before. Even someone whose face was as thick as his felt a bit embarrassed. He could only first pick a few random things to say. Just as he was thinking how to explain himself to make it sound sincere and serious when Lan WangJi suddenly pushed him away.

But once he is comfortable with someone or when his reasons for restraining himself are gone, he will speak his mind and heart. We can see this when he freely talks to Lan Xichen about the things Wei Wuxian has shared with him in Chapter 125. He can also be witty and a bit sassy, especially in the present time, as we can see everytime he throws Wei Wuxian’s words back at him or even makes subtle digs at Wei Wuxian:

Chapter 21:

After a few moments, the strings played two notes on their own. Wei WuXian quickly asked, “What did it say?”

Lan WangJi, “I do not know.”

Wei WuXian, “What?”

Lan WangJi replied in an unhurried manner, “It said, ‘I do not know’.”

“…” Wei WuXian looked at him, suddenly remembering a conversation about “whatever” a few years ago. Touching his nose, he was at a loss for words, and thought, Lan Zhan is so bright. He even learned how to make me speechless.

Chapter 25:

Suddenly, one of Lan WangJi’s arms wrapped around his back and, as Lan WangJi bent down slightly, another went toward the back of his knees.

[...] Carrying him, Lan WangJi both walked and replied to him steadily, “You said that you didn’t want to be carried on my back.”

Wei WuXian, “I didn’t say that I wanted to be carried like this either.”

Chapter 45:

Wei WuXian was also shocked. He turned to Lan WangJi, “Your sect makes disciples do handstands while copying? That’s awful.”

Lan WangJi replied calmly, “There would always be someone who did not learn their lessons by simply copying the sect rules. Handstands not only guaranteed better performance in the future but also benefited cultivation.”

Of course, Wei WuXian was the someone who never learnt his lessons. He pretended as though he didn’t know what Lan WangJi was talking about. (Chapter 45)

. He can even be smooth as shown in Chapter 126:

“Be honest about whether or not you thought about me in the same way.” In a solemn tone, he spoke, “Rejecting me like that so coldly every single time—it really made me lose face, don’t you know?”

Lan WangJi, “You can try, now, to see if I would reject you over anything.”

The sentence so suddenly struck his heart. Wei WuXian choked, yet Lan WangJi was still as calm as ever, as though he didn’t at all realize what he just said. Wei WuXian put his hand to his forehead, “You… HanGuang-Jun, let’s make a deal. Please warn me before you say something so romantic, or else I won’t be able to take it.”

Regarding his feelings for Wei Wuxian, apart from that moment in the cave after the Nightless City massacre, I don’t think he ever intended for Wei Wuxian to know his feelings since Wei Wuxian already told him he was straight (Chapter 54: "Don’t worry—I don’t like men, I won’t take advantage of the opportunity and do anything to you.”) and then kept giving him mixed signals wherein Wei Wuxian would flirt with him but then pass it off as a joke. Unfortunately, Wei Wuxian did not remember that one time Lan Wangji wanted Wei Wuxian know how he felt, which causes much of their misunderstanding in the present.

I would also like to point out that Wangxian didn't really have a miscommunication during that time as Wei Wuxian would acknowledge Lan Wangji's concern and basically go "Thanks, but no thanks. You’re wrong and I have everything under control." In fact, they actually reach an understanding in this conversation in Chapter 75:

A moment later, Wei WuXian spoke up, “Lan Zhan, you asked me if I intended on staying like this from now on. To be honest, I’d like to ask something as well. What can I do apart from this?”

He continued, “Give up the demonic path? Then what about the people on this mountain?

“Give them up? I won’t be able to do it. I believe that if you were I, you wouldn’t be able to do it either.”

He continued, “Nobody can give me a nice, broad road to walk on. A road where I could protect those I want to protect without having to cultivate the ghostly path.”

Lan WangJi gazed at him. He didn’t reply, but both of them knew the answer in their hearts.

There was no such road.

Look how smooth he is after he and Wei Wuxian got married. He finally knows and feels that he can freely express his love to Wei Wuxian in words, and he does just that in his elegant manner of speech

We can see here that Wei Wuxian has made his decision and all Lan Wangji could do is to respect it as a mere outsider in Wei Wuxian’s life.

In the present time, they have a misunderstanding but it is not borne from the lack of ability to express themselves. Rather, it is due to Wei Wuxian's impaired memory. Add to that the fact that Wei Wuxian has already made assumptions about Lan Wangji that are actually not completely true as we are shown throughout the novel. At this point also, Lan Wangji has already been rejected and pushed away many times and is under the impression that Wei Wuxian already knows his true feelings.

In conclusion, Lan Wangji can express himself well. It’s just that he’s quiet and prefers action over words. Communication or expressing one’s self is more than just the skill of being able to put your thoughts and feelings into words. There’s plenty of other reasons why someone might not be saying something. Conflicts in the novel are much more complex and aren’t just because of mere miscommunication or inability to talk and express themselves properly. Not all problems are resolved in a way that both parties unite and end up on the same side. Differences in judgments and views happen and the only resolution is just to agree to disagree.

[janiedean]

The problem with jkr not facing consequences is also that hp itself was famous all over the world to the extent that ppl are still nostalgic about it but a lot of these ppl don't really follow jkr or start online that much (I'm talking of audiences outside uk/us). Personally any time ppl who knew me as a stan being it up I just go "yea I'll always have a soft spot for the books because of what they meant to me as a child but I've grown out of it especially after what jkr did now" and 99% of the time they have no idea about the term stuff.

Then when I tell them they're shocked but the point is that none of them know about all this because so much of this happens on Twitter and then spreads to only certain pages that are critical and the vast majority aren't that active online. So it's very much a don't know don't care situation.

The scary thing is also, at least in my country, the lack of awareness + ignorance about trans issues which means that if I hadn't learnt and educated myself, or if she'd started her bs 10 years ago I probably would've believed her correct because I did think of her as an inspiration as a teen.

yeah you make... a very good point in the sense that sadly if you're not in the angloamerican sphere and/or you're not on twitter combined with the utter ignorance wrt trans issues that there is everywhere it makes the situation especially bad because hp is like.... even stones know what it is so you can't escape its popularity, but honestly... ngl I think that's why someone in the uk/us/anglo countries has to try to do something more concerning her platform because like

as that post says the problem is that she's like top ten most famous people in the world and say what you want she's basically the face of that ideology at this point - bc like the average person outside feminist circles or whatever doesn't know who julie b*ndel is and the average person doesn't, so whatever terf crap b*ndel sprouts can circulate up to a point, but everyone and the rocks their houses are made of knows who jkr is even if they don't know the name. like my mom prob doesn't know her full name bc I never was into hp but if I tell her 'the harry potter writer' she knows who I'm talking about. and when that kinda famous person with that kinda platform and fanbase and voice and whose stuff will get published regardless of whether she's writing a novel or the grocery shop list can just go and say the shit she does without a counter or at least without a counter of equal weight - because like if stephen king says she's wrong, king still hasn't the same following or influence and if stephen king says something political in general it doesn't have the same reach as she does, so.... there's a problem here and the fact is that her money will most likely go to finance terf organizations too and the last thing terfs need is anyone making their shitty rhetoric more palatable

so like... most ppl don't know/care because they don't engage with her outside her books which fair enough I found out a singer whose music I liked committed sexual harassment with more than one woman because I didn't follow him on twitter and liked the music but not enough to actually care about his personal life, that happens, and like I'll never buy stuff from him again unless he's blatantly cleared and idt he will be but like the point is that the moment someone is in the anglosphere (imvho) and they know what jkr thinks and where her money goes if they care about trans rights (and honestly if you care about women in the first place too bc terf ideology is not pro-women anyway) they should a) not consume any hp book or movie legally, b) shouldn't buy any merch, c) should openly say why they don't engage with hp anymore, d) should discourage other people from engaging with hp content legally at least and if someone says 'ah well she's a jerk but the art is not the artist' they should double down on the fact that supporting her art means funding terf ideology and with this I mean stopping going to the play, stopping buying the books, stopping gifting the books to their little cousins, let the damned prequels tank and stop trending hp related things online to begin with, because okay that won't change things for someone in italy who doesn't follow jrk on twitter nor follows the discourse but it does change things for her in the public debate and honestly it's high time that ppl nostalgic about hp to the point they'll engage with it legally after they knew about jkr's politics realize that hp isn't untouchable nor beyond critics just because it's that popular and realize that one thing is reading lovecraft books a century after he's dead and the money you pay for it surely doesn't go to the KKK or to any organization that supports anything akin to lovecraft's racist views back when he was alive, one thing is keeping hp alive like that and having jkr profit off it while she's alive and spreading ideals that like... literally do hurt people's lives which shouldn't be a thing so like I'd prefer everyone put their hp energy into supporting whatever project the former hp cast members who openly disagree with jrk did and for the love of everything stop trending h*gwarts and shit on twitter and making ppl realize it's an endless flow of cash because that's where it's going to end /shrug

[mrs-nate-humphrey]

This is totally cool, lol! That's why I tagged you, I like different perspectives 🥰 and I adore lesbian Jenny

I've been thinking a lot about Jenny's character and sexuality lately since I'm in the middle of rewatching the show. I totally agree that she's attracted to women and most times she pursues guys it's mainly to increase social status and not because of genuine interest. Nate always felt different to me, though. Like, the two times she really pursues him is in season 2, when she's being homeschooled and trying to make it as a designer, and the end of season 3, which is after the whole Damien drama and she's just looking for someone who cares about her and respects her (I know you said once that it doesn't even feel romantic here, which I also agree with, poor girl just needs a connection). I do really see how it can be interrupted as comphet, though. Like she feels like she's supposed to be attracted to Nate because who wouldn't be?

I think the reason why I lean the other way is probably just projection. Jenny's been my favourite GG character since I first watched the show when I was 12, partly because I relate a lot to her, and since I'm bisexual... Add that plus the fact that I totally have had a crush on Nate and of course I'm gonna ship them. I've been relating to Jenny even more this time around cause I dropped out of school this year, so her season 2 arc really hit close to me. So this made my jenate feelings come back tenfold and also made me that much madder at Rufus, lol. I just wanted to go through the screen and shake his shoulders like "There are other paths than the one you want your daughter to have, not everyone has to go through life like society expects you to let your daughter carve out her own unconventional path you fucking idiot!" Luckily my parents have been way more supportive.

Mainly I just see Jenny as bi with a strong lean towards women, but I like to think about lesbian Jenny, too. It wouldn't exactly be the first time I had contradicting headcanons.

I don't know I just think it's really cool that different people can have such different interpretations of the same character. I think that's what's so interesting about fiction, to see how we view things differently depending on how we view and relate to things based on our own experiences. Tumblr can be so focused on hating people who disagree with you, but I like following people with different opinions, it helps me understand people better.

Yeah, I'm glad you tagged me!! back in November, some anons were mean to me about shipping Jenate (me??? who literally does not even - anyway) and ever since then I've been trying extra to ensure that Jenate shippers feel welcome on my blog - you may already know this, because I've brought it up before, but I'm saying it here to let you know that every time you tag me in your Jenate edits I get so happy that you're sharing something you're so passionate about with me!! I'm also a big believer of like........ making the content you want to see (a big part of why I even learnt to gif is because nobody was giffing Dan & Nate, and I was like...... that's the content I need, so if it's not already existing, I'm gonna make it happen!) so regardless of my feelings it's always so cool to see the way you conceptualise JN + their feelings re: each other, and your choice of scenes + lyrics (??? I'm not actually familiar with where you got the words for your edits, they're likely songs I haven't heard, haha) is just so interesting & good!

OH my full Jenny & Nate feelings are a lot more complicated than just comphet on Jenny's part. I feel like..... neither of them was romantically/sexually into each other? and that is kind of the appeal to me? I've always interpreted Nate's interest in Jenny during the s2 arc as sort of like - everything in his life is so unstable and undetermined, and here is Jenny who is so clear on who she is and what she wants, and he admires and respects that, and he wants to be there for her and support her, so when she kisses him he just sort of lets her take their dynamic wherever she wants to? that is very much the vibe I got. You already know how I feel about lesbian Jenny, I mean, you quoted my meta right back at me :'))

but I DO agree with you that Nate is different from the other guys to Jenny. JN have this really specific kind of honesty to them - well, when Jenny wasn't spiralling and trying to get power and acting out, and when the writers actually cared? I still think that NJ had the potential to be a SOLID dynamic but the writers made it sorta unhealthy on the show :(( - but I've spoken abt moments like in seventeen candles and the empire strikes jack before, where they're both able to be emotionally vulnerable around each other in ways we don't see them be with anyone else. I've even compared that to what I like about Derena, whom everyone knows I ship in every possible way, haha. But there's something about characters who trust each other and allow themselves to be honest with each other in ways that they wouldn't otherwise EVER be - especially with characters like Jenny & Nate who have spent so long trying to seem fine and okay even when they're really not.

I honestly really like the idea of queerplatonic Jenate - they're life partners, they're each other's rock, they're each other's person - but it's not romantic OR sexual - and for Nate & Jenny, whose adolescence has involved navigating other people sexualising them so much + not having the best track record with romantic relationships - for them, I feel being qpps gets REALLY interesting, because you get all the perks of a relationship without the romantic/sexual obligations? (obligations isn't the best word, but i don't know what else to use here? LOL) and that's something i love to explore.

I feel like book Jenny was bi! The way she gushed about Nate, whom she canonically had a crush on, and the way she gushed about Serena were EXACTLY the same. Also YES I love multiple headcanons always, it's a lot of fun seeing people explore that!!! I know people who have aroace readings of Jenny, or aro lesbian / ace lesbian readings of her, and I find that really cool, too!

I also definitely get you about relating to Jenny a lot, and feeling that kind of connection. It's similar to how I feel about Dan, and .... explains a lot of my contradicting dair views, actually. A few years ago I had a seriously intense crush on a girl who was... a lot like Blair, in many ways. I spent a ridiculous amount of time writing poetry about her, etc etc, but I never actually acted on it. If she'd fabricated schemes that involved us kissing, though..... I don't know. I don't think I would've denied it if I'd felt like I actually had a chance. I think we just had a case of bad timing, & I like to think in another universe, maybe we were actually together for a bit. I'm glad that your parents are supportive of you and better than Rufus! <3

I think that's what's so interesting about fiction, to see how we view things differently depending on how we view and relate to things based on our own experiences <- THIS exactly! this is a big part of why that "proship" is in my bio. like this is exactly what it means to me and how I conceptualise & understand it!!! Like you, I also like engaging with people who have different understandings and opinions of the characters -> it definitely helps you make new friends you would otherwise not meet by staying in your bubble, & from a fandom point of view, it also helps you develop a more nuanced understanding of a character. Some of the best written Jenny Humphrey I've read was in Jenate fics - and I've had people who don't even ship Blenny tell me they liked the way I wrote Jenny in my post canon blennyfic, so... idk. it's loving Jenny hours - each and every single iteration of Jenny!!!

[dyinginlava]

Febuwhump 2021: Day 7, Poisoning

AO3 link! Tw for poisoning, mentions of vomiting and corpses, and auditory hallucinations

Ranbob picks at his food uneasily. Everyone around him is eating, but something about the food puts him off, although he can’t figure out quite what it is.

Standing up, he excuses himself from the table, and leaves, walking through the glass corridors of the City of Mizu— even after living there his entire life, the ocean pressing down on the city still makes him uneasy.

He makes it to his room, a small place, just in time for the nausea to hit him. He lies down, trying to stop himself from vomiting as he starts to feel a pain in his gut: did he catch some illness? Was there something wrong with the food?

“Hello.”

He looks around the room in shock, but there’s no one else there but him.

“You’re not the only one feeling sick right now.”

He… he recognises that voice. They only had a few recordings from the time before Mizu, but he’d listened to them all in his studies. The voice even had the same scratchy quality as the recordings.

He pulls himself out of bed, struggling back to the dining hall. If the voice was right, if the others were sick as well, shouldn’t he try and help?

By the time he gets there, the bodies have already stopped moving.

“You did this.”

“What? No, I couldn’t have, I would remember that!” He protested weakly. He knew his own memory, how unlike his ancestors it was unreliable. Surely he wouldn’t have poisoned anyone though?

“You did. Don’t worry, they deserved it.”

“No, no, that has to be wrong, I wouldn’t do something like that, I’d never do that!”

“But you did. You sabotaged the oxygen supply as well. You just don’t remember.”

“What could they have done to deserve this though? Why?”

“Because they forgot. Because they looked back on history and decided to hide away the parts they disagreed with. The parts you learnt about.”

“I… did this?”

He makes his way back to his room, and somehow knows that he’ll find a sword hidden under his bed… a sword and a mask. Alongside them an old and fragile book he knows he must have read. He knows there’ll be a meeting soon to discuss the deaths. He also knows he won’t be suspected of it, he was poisoned himself after all.

As he steps back outside his room, nausea still swirling in his gut, he asks the voice a question.

“Am I the good guy here?”

And the voice of Ranboo, his ancestor, the man who took no side but that of a traitor, just as he’s heard it in the old recordings, answers him.

“I suppose it depends on who you ask.”

[fuckingthefictional]

Shelby’s stick together

A/N: requested by @shady80smusicsingercolor hope you enjoy, sorry it took so long- I’ve been super busy was college work! Xx

Masterlist

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Sister! OC

Warnings: swearing, racist slur used in historical context, super fuckin long.

Olivia Shelby and Linda Shelby did not get on. Plain and simple.

They didn’t get on one bit.

Liv maintained that Linda had barged her way into the family and had forcibly changed Arthur into someone he quite simply was not.

Linda however maintained that Liv was just being bratty and selfish and that she was hogging her brothers all to herself and never wanted them to be happy.

Which was wildly untrue. After all Esme was Liv’s other sister in law and Olivia got on like a house on fire with her.

When they had first met they had only slightly clashed, it wasn’t a big deal.

Arthur strolled up the blackened streets of Small Heath, Linda grasped onto his arm out of what must’ve been fear or anxiety.

To Arthur however he owned the space, people feared him and this place was his home.

He had no issue with the workers or the fire fuelled factories, or the children running barefoot in the streets together- it was as normal as could be, even the whores that littered the corners didn’t cause him to bat an eye.

This was Small Heath. His safe haven.

Linda however was tense on his arm, her eyes shooting around frantically.

It was clear she was afraid of meeting the one and only Olivia Shelby.

Everyone else had been civil to Linda (for Arthur’s sake) but Olivia was another story.

Polly claimed that Olivia had the Gypsy blessing of judgement.

Or being able to tell what a person was truly like- or what their true thoughts were at first glance.

Making Olivia unpredictable in her reactions.

And that was where they first disagreed, The Shelby’s called this power a ‘gift’ or a ‘blessing’, Linda called it Witchcraft and blasphemy in the highest.

Unfortunately it didn’t take long for Arthur to locate where his youngest sibling was (thanks to Jeremiah)

She was down by the cut with Isaiah (which was unsurprising considering the two of them flirted back and forth continuously)

It wasn’t long before the eldest Shelby heard the giggles of Olivia, and the chattering of Isaiah.

“Now what are you two doing out here alone?” Arthur boomed teasingly, purposefully trying to frighten the teens.

“Shit!” Olivia jumped, tumbling backwards and landing with a splash in the river, “Arthur you fucker!”

Linda flinched at the language being used as the other boys laughed heartily and dragged Liv out of the murky depths.

“Liv, this is Linda.” Arthur gestured to the woman stood awkwardly on the bank, “My fiancé.”

Olivia took the woman in, she didn’t like the judgement that lay in her eyes. The slight frown that she tried to keep hidden suggested that she had negative ideas of Olivia already.

Liv was clear on one thing- she didn’t trust Linda one bit.

It was frustrating to Liv. She had always been feisty (courtesy of the Shelby genes and the Gypsy blood running through her veins) but when this ‘good Christian woman’ was around she couldn’t help but make snarky comments.

But that didn’t mean Linda couldn’t hit back with harsher, nastier comments.

The needle that broke the horses back occurred the day before- resulting in Olivia to purchase a train ticket to London to stay with Ada for a while.

She was desperate to get away. The comments coming from her sister in law were enough to beat her down day after day. Liv was certain that Tommy had noticed a difference in her, after all she was closest with him.

All Olivia did yesterday was glare slightly at her sister in law, and in return got a mouthful of insults from the devil blonde.

It hurt, it was embarrassing, and even worse it had hit a sore spot in her heart.

Because Linda had mentioned the Shelby’s mother- more specifically how Olivia was the cause of her own mothers death. How it was all her fault.

That one hit close to home.

And now here Liv was, sat on a train that was heading to London. A train that her family (minus Ada) had no idea she was on.

//

Tommy was stood at his sisters bedroom door, his fist pounded insistently at the slab of wood.

Every knock that he made were all answered by silence. It made him feel anxious- Liv always answered the door to him. Always.

“Liv?” He presses his ear against the door, “Liv let me in please?”

Tommy twisted the knob again, but the cool metal was still locked against the latch.

If there was one thing that Tommy prided himself on, it was being patient with his youngest sister.

Sure, he was protective of Ada and they got on- but they had never seen eye to eye on most things.

Olivia, however was Tommy’s soft spot. Ever since she was tiny, she’d been able to melt his heart. He’d learnt to be patient for Liv, and he’d continued to do so.

But considering Tommy had been knocking for a good 15 minutes to no response, his worry began to erode at his patience.

Weighing his options, Tommy quickly decided on attacking the door one last time...with a strong kick.

The door cracked and flew off the hinges, leaving splinters littered across the floor.

Only one thing was apparent to Tommy however, the room was empty.

The wardrobe was cleaned out and Liv’s one and only stuffed animal which she slept with was nowhere to be seen.

Tommy’s heart was thumping out of his chest painfully. Olivia wouldn’t just...leave.

Unless she felt as if she was a intruder in her own family or was being pushed away.

He felt his feet thump on the floor, a sign that Tommy was in fact walking away from the room. Moments later he found himself in the betting den.

Esme, Linda and Lizzie were sat at their desks chatting away- as John, Arthur and Polly were crowded around one of the many finance books out of Tommy’s office.

Nobody had seemingly noticed his presence- until he spoke loudly.

“Would anyone care to tell me why the fuck Olivia’s room’s fuckin’ empty and her shit‘s gone.”

Everyone’s head turned sharply at this. Esme, John, Arthur and Polly paced forward- clamouring in confusion and fear.

The only person who was sat still and unbothered was the small figured blonde who perched on her chair, a smug expression painting her lips.

//

Kings cross station was always busy- it didn’t matter what time you arrived. It was always crowded.

So it was a blessing in disguise that Olivia Shelby was short in stature and could slip through small gaps in the crowds.

Liv didn’t have a plan if she was being honest. She had enough money for a taxi- maybe a hotel room if Ada wasn’t home.

With these new thoughts in her mind, Liv picked up her pace and rushed to the street outside.

It may have been just past 11 o’clock in the morning, when the taxi dropped her off at the street corner where Ada’s home was located.

Olivia, tired and mentally drained, ambled to the front door. She rung the doorbell, waiting as she heard the excited screeches coming from Karl on the other side.

Seconds later, Ada’s face appeared as the door swung open- immediately Liv embraced her older sister, trying to find some comfort.

She was upset and just wanted some peace and time away from the hurtful comments.

When evening fell and the sun crept beyond the horizon, Olivia was awoken from her slumber by the sound of the front door being opened and heavy, rushed footfalls running up the stairs.

Liv could feel her heart rate spike in fear, as she hid under the covers like a young child.

“Livvy?”

It was Tommy, immediately she came out from the linen sheets, and stared at her brother who came forward and embraced her in a tight hug.

“Thank God you’re okay,” he mumbled into her shoulder, “I thought something bad had happened to you.”

“I’m okay.” Liv whispered back, although it sounded like she was trying to convince herself as she spoke.

Tommy broke the embrace, as he cupped her face in his hands- searching her eyes for truth.

The moment she looked into her older brothers calculating gaze, Liv just found herself breaking down into floods of tears.

The older man perched on his little sisters temporary bed, scooping her up like she weighed nothing and cradling her in his lap- like he did when Liv was little.

Tommy continued to rock his sister comfortingly, it pained him to see someone he loved so much this upset.

Finally the question arose, “Livvy, What’s got you in such a state?” He asked unsure of the response he’d get.

Olivia took a deep, shuddering breath before responding, “Linda, we’ve been arguing for a few months now. I don’t trust her and she doesn’t respect me. I hit her with snarky comments and she hits me back with ones that hurt twice as much.”

Tommy nodded along, it was obvious the two girls didn’t get on. But Olivia just grit her teeth and bared it for Arthur’s sake.

“And for months she’s been saying this horrible stuff, ‘you’re ugly’, ‘you have witches teeth’, ‘freckles make you look like you’re permanently ill’, ‘it’s not surprising that the only boy who’s attracted to you is a negro’, and then yesterday she told me it was my fault that Mother died- that I killed her.” Olivia cried, tears breaking again, “And I hate myself Tommy, I’m unlovable- it should have been me that died not Mum.”

“No.” Tommy said firmly, “Don’t you ever say that- never say it again. You are my little sister, my little gypsy princess.” He stared at his young sister, “You are kind, brave, smart, loving and beautiful an’ Isaiah is lucky to have someone like you to love.”

At this point Olivia had tucked herself into the crook of his neck, almost as if she was hiding from the truthfulness in his words.

“An’ most importantly, you were not the cause of our Mothers death. You and Finn had no part to play- she was sick Liv, if she hadn’t of died when you were born then she would’ve died a day later.”

“I’m sorry for worrying you Tom.” Liv said in a apologetic tone, “And making you drive to London in a panic.”

“I’d do anything for you Livvy, you know that,” Tommy replied, hugging her tighter and kissing her forehead, “You’re a Shelby- and if that’s not enough for Linda then she can kiss goodbye to our family and Y’know why?”

Olivia smiled, “Because us Shelby’s stick together.”

[wanderchyld]

Final PBIO/IOTNBO analysis and theory

This post is my final analysis and includes some questions I have as we go into the final weekend of one of the best dramas in history. It is VERY long as I consolidate and expand on my previous analysis and theories.

I also lost a big chunk of this post while I was working on the draft just a few hours before posting, resulting to this post as a little inconsistent. Excuse me if my points are messy and some points missing with some issues untouched (because I forgot 😭). I think most points can be linked back to my past theories so you can read up on them if you haven’t.

List of my theories before ep 14:

Do Heejae and the other woman

Moonyoung’s background and Go Daehwan

Head Nurse is NOT Do Heejae, she’s the previous housekeeper

Maybe Head Nurse really is Do Heejae

As usual, please note that anything I quote may be a mix of Netflix’s subs and my translation because I know Korean and Netflix tends to miss nuances sometimes.

Firstly, Park Ok Ran’s dead.

Let’s get this out of the way first. (You can read my first theory on her role in this whole saga.)

“She can’t come anymore.”

Can’t have her exposing Park Haengja. Or plot twist: she is alive and returns to save the trio from the villain 😆

No one’s memory is reliable

Not Kangtae’s as established in ep 6 that he didn’t remember his mother brought them to eat jjamppong because he’s the one who liked it, not Sangtae.

Not Sangtae’s. In spite of his good memory, it was established in ep 10 that he didn’t remember Kangtae saving him, so his memories can be flawed as well.

Therefore, not Moonyoung’s, and definitely not Go Daehwan’s.

There are few things that we can be sure because they are concurrent:

There was a female body in the basement that was disposed or disappeared.

The murderer of Taetae Bros’ mother wore Moonyoung’s mother’s a one-of-a-kind brooch.

There was a body in the reservoir.

Taetae Bros’ mother was the new housekeeper (I saw that some people disagree but here are the supporting screenshots).

There were definitely two women

My theory that there were 2 women in Moonyoung’s family still stands and I’m expanding on it.

Let’s look at the family photos first. There are multiple versions of the family photo, and I suspect they were taken at different times. Here they are in what I think is the chronological order.

1) Photo in the basement: Go Daehwan had full-rimmed glasses, Moonyoung wore a scarf and stood closer to him with his hand on her shoulder, and the lady wore a fully black high neck top with the brooch on the right.

Before the family moved in, on the day Go Daehwan showed the lady around the house, he was wearing the full-rimmed glasses, and the house looked lived in (fully furnished, fully decorated, shelves full). 

2) Go Daehwan’s photo: Go Daehwan had half-rimmed glasses, Moonyoung stood right in the middle and without the scarf, and the lady wore a blazer over a straight neckline blouse with the brooch on the right.

3) Park Haengja’s photo seems to be the same as Moonyoung’s: Go Daehwan with half-rimmed glasses, can’t tell whether Moonyoung was wearing a scarf or not but she sat nearer to the lady who wore the same blazer over a straight neckline blouse without the brooch.

Go Daehwan had half-rimmed glasses when he realised his wife killed Taetae Bros’ mother.

Photos are evidences of relationships. In a group photo, the people who are closer would pose closer to each other. These family photos tell us that Go Daehwan and Moonyoung were actually close, and showed us the progression of Moonyoung’s relationship with the woman.

But why were multiple photos taken? If they were the same woman, why are they still hiding the woman’s face in the photos?

When Go Daehwan killed his wife, he said, “If I die, my daughter will become a monster like you.”

Why was it “my daughter” and not “our daughter?” It’s even odder for Koreans because being a very collectivist society, they don’t claim people or objects as mine. They say “our country,” “our father,” “our daughter” to show unity even when they actually mean “my country,” “my father,” “my daughter.”

Moonyoung insisted she’s an orphan. Technically, when one biological parent dies, the child is an orphan (single orphan). So perhaps Moonyoung’s not wrong. And as explored in my second theory post, she might have been referring to her biological mother. The abusive woman was probably her stepmother.

Go Daehwan told Director Oh that his wife loved Moonyoung “terribly. Very terribly,” and we have Moonyoung who doesn’t want a child to not get jealous over Kangtae’s affection. Judging by the family photos (Moonyoung posing closer to the woman each time), perhaps the stepmother was jealous of the father-daughter relationship and became obsessed with Moonyoung.

Would a child be afraid of their parent because they didn’t want to be hated? I was just afraid my mother would scold me (which was a lot). Right, we can argue that her mother was abusive, but this is something to think about.

Park Haengja: stepmother and crazy aunt

Bluebeard the French folklore, which ep 6 was based on, is about a man who married several times as he killed his disobedient wives. According to Wikipedia, his final wife had invited her sister and others over for a party before she snuck away to explore the forbidden room. Bluebeard found out and was about to kill her on the spot when her sister and brothers arrived to kill Bluebeard.

It was also in ep 6 when Taetae Bros moved in that they specifically had a shot of the dolls in Moonyoung’s old room (the brothers’ new room). I mentioned this previously: one male doll as Go Daehwan, two female dolls in similar dresses as Moonyoung’s mother and stepmother, and one small female doll.

You can see the two dolls behind little Moonyoung in her memory of her father reading her a book.

The dolls are a representation of the Go family in the house because in ep 7, only the small female doll (Moonyoung) was left, and I think there are 2 more new figurines as Taetae Bros on that cabinet but I can’t be bothered to search for a clearer shot 😁

When Go Daehwan strangled little Moonyoung, afraid she would become like her mother, they featured one of the dolls in the shot.

The point of mentioning the dolls is: Moonyoung’s mother wore a similar dress as the dolls in most of the flashbacks.

Ep 13 was based on the Korean folklore The Story of Janghwa and Hongryeon and its popular movie adaptation The Tale of Two Sisters (2003). IOTNBO has more links to this story than “the bystander is worse than the abuser.”

In the movie, Moon Geunyoung’s character frequently dressed in floral patterns (like the dolls’ and Moonyoung’s mother’s dresses).

In both the folklore and the movie, the sisters were named after rose and lotus flowers. In the folklore, it’s the sister that died who was named after the rose flower. In the movie, it’s the surviving sister that was named after the rose flower. The rose is also a motif of Moonyoung’s mother.

The flower language of rose is love and passion. Personally, considering how Moonyoung always thought of her mother when she brushed her hair, and her love for a head pat, I think the rose also symbolises her mother’s "affection."

The movie is a story of two sisters who were abused by their stepmother so badly that one of them died. As it turns out, the remaining sister developed dissociative identity disorder (DID; the same disorder as the patient Yoo Sunhae) with two other personalities: her dead sister (Moon Geunyoung’s character) and her stepmother.

I take this as a lead that Moonyoung has a stepmother, who also happens to be her aunt obsessed with her sister. Wicked Witch of the West (WWOTW) coveted Wicked Witch of the East’s (WWOTE) ruby shoes; perhaps the aunt wanted to be in her sister’s shoes, figuratively AND literally.

Now here’s another “coincidence” from the same:

Left: Moon Geunyoung. Right: Im Soojung (sister with DID).

The story Go Daehwan read to little Moonyoung mentioned a bad wizard that wasn’t invited to the birthday party so he went to the castle.

The story Go Daehwan read to little Moonyoung mentioned a bad wizard that wasn’t invited to the birthday party so he/she went to the castle to cause trouble. 

Glinda the Good Witch of the North described WWOTW as worse than WWOTE.

Go Daehwan, who had recognition and memory impairment, said his wife has an angelic face but a devil lives within. Perhaps he remembers two persons as one.

We learnt from Sangin that 1) Do Heejae came from a prestigious family of medical professionals, 2) she dropped out of 3rd year of med school, and 3) she cut ties with everyone in her family. Could she have a sister in nursing? Could she have cut ties with her family because they cray cray (or the good old "you’ll starve with a creative career")?

Park Haengja has not claimed herself as Do Heejae, and the woman in the family photos are still covered.

Following these, we can assume that Park Haengja’s the bad witch who is neither Do Heejae nor Moonyoung’s birth mother. She’s the stepmother and crazy aunt (I cover more about the sisters in the next section).

There’s always a crazy aunt or uncle.

It’s just too easy if Park Haengja really is Do Heejae. I’d also be disappointed in the writer if she takes this route because it’s cliché villain and this is not a makjang drama with illogical plot twists. It would also be a step back from all the efforts this show has been making to dispel stigma against mental illness.

So they were sisters and...

...one of them died. In water. 

As per my first theory, the WWOTW and WWOTE are sisters in some adaptations of The Wonderful Wizard of Oz. WWOTE died under a house then disappeared into thin air, and WWOTW pretended to die in contact of water but she returned disguised as a good person. Sound familiar?

The Story of Janghwa and Hongryeon is a Korean folklore of a stepmother who abused two sisters to their death. She had her biological son push Janghwa the older sister into a pond and she drowned. The remaining sister couldn’t take the abuse any longer and drowned herself in the same pond.

The song “Oh My Darling Clementine” has a few variations but here’s the traditional lyrics (I removed repeated stanzas):

Oh my darling, oh my darling Oh my darling, Clementine You are lost and gone forever Dreadful sorry, Clementine In a cavern, in a canyon Excavating for a mine Dwelt a miner, forty-niner And his daughter, Clementine Light she was and like a fairy And her shoes were number nine Herring boxes, without topses Sandals were for Clementine Drove she ducklings to the water Ev'ry morning just at nine Hit her foot against a splinter Fell into the foaming brine Oh my darling, oh my darling Oh my darling, Clementine You are lost and gone forever Dreadful sorry, Clementine Ruby lips above the water Blowing bubbles, soft and fine But, alas, I was no swimmer So I lost my Clementine How I missed her! How I missed her How I missed my Clementine But I kissed her little sister I forgot my Clementine

These stories are all about 2 sisters and dying in water. Whether they’re sisters or not, a woman died and she’s related to Go Daehwan somehow.

The Murder of the Witch of the West

Do Heejae’s novel hold huge clues. Here’s my translation of an excerpt from volume 9 shown in ep 10.

… __’s scalp skinned with a hunting knife without hesitation. The corpse’s lips sewed in a fence stitch. The body dismembered with a hand axe and thrown into the trunk. Yooyoung persistently as she watched the back of the West Witch leave unhurriedly after finishing the killing and leaving notes.

"Who the hell are you?"

"Why do you choose to kill happy people only?"

But as usual, there was no answer. Was it because of Yooyoung’s tenacity to catch the West Witch? Yooyoung always sees the West Witch at the crime scenes. A faceless woman who always observed Yooyoung work hard on finding the criminal before leaving abruptly. Yooyoung began to look at the crime scene from the criminal's perspective. Why here? Why kill by stabbing this way? As she simulates the crime, Yooyoung finds herself assimilating with the criminal. She felt a thrill from imagining that she stabbed and cut the victim. She’s getting confused. Is she a detective or a murderer?

Around the same time, a murder occurred. The West Witch mimicked a passage from The Wonderful Wizard of Oz, everything was in line with the Wicked Witch of the West, right down to the signature butterfly design. However, Yooyoung somehow felt guilty.

...

The suspect was a middle-aged woman in her 40s.

Yeah.

The misunderstanding

Othello killed his wife because he mistook his wife for committing adultery.

Romeo and Juliet mistook each other’s plan. Romeo died from drinking real poison, and Juliet faked her death before realising the mistake and killed herself with Romeo’s dagger.

Janghwa was framed and wrongfully accused by her stepmother for being unchaste. Her father believed it. When Janghwa ran away, her stepmother and stepbrother chased after her, and her stepbrother (under her stepmother’s instruction) pushed her into a pond to drown to her death.

What did Go Daehwan misunderstand? What misunderstanding did his recognition and memory impairment cause? Why was his wife being crazy but looked so shocked when he turned her around?

I do not believe that his memory of killing his wife is a complete memory because it has been mentioned multiple times that his memories are corrupted. I think it’s fragments of different memories pieced together.

What’s going on with Park Haengja?

There are a few possibilities.

Park Haengja is Do Heejae’s sister who coveted her sister’s position and grew obsessed with her sister’s novel.

Do Heejae’s Moonyoung’s biological mother and Park Haengja’s her stepmother.

OR Moonyoung’s biological mother died when she was born, Do Heejae’s the stepmother (abusive but still her mother because she raised Moonyoung), and Park Haengja’s the obsessive aunt.

She got so obsessed she came to believe she’s Do Heejae.

So obsessed she was always keeping an eye on Moonyoung to fulfil the prophecy that is the novel. ("You’re my greatest creation," and volume 3, shown in episode 10 with Park Ok Ran’s copy, has passages that describes episode 3.)

Park Haengja’s the one who killed Taetae Bros’ mother (screenshots of Do Heejae vs murderer below).

She took advantage of Go Daehwan’s cognitive impairment and instigated him to kill the real Do Heejae. She’s the one who saw Go Daehwan kill the woman and hide her in the basement.

Do Heejae wore her butterfly brooch on right, the murderer wore it on the left. Do Heejae always wore red nail polish and a gold rose ring, the murderer did not (although she could have had them removed if it’s premeditated).

Moonyoung’s mother:

Murderer:

Moonyoung’s mother:

Murderer:

Clearly Do Heejae didn’t wear her brooch all the time, so it would have been easy to steal the brooch. However, Do Heejae wore her ring all the time, so Park Haengja can only get the ring after she dies and "truly” become Do Heejae.

End.

I think I recovered most of my points but they’re still feel incomplete 😭

Let me know your thoughts 😊

[probably-writing-x]

Introductions

Itzan Escamilla x Reader

Request by anon: Heyyyy!! Love your imagines so much tbh they make me MELTTTT ❤️ I was wondering if you can write an imagine about Itzan Escamilla (as himself, not as Samu) where the reader is coming to visit the Élite set and then she meets everyone and Itzan falls in love with her at the same moment and he gets shy so Danna helps him out to ask her out on a dinner the same evening which ends up by Itzan & the reader kissing at the end of the night. Thank you & I hope you’re well! Much love 💕💕💕

Gif is not my own

Requests are open🤍

“Girl I’m so happy you’re here!” Danna exclaims when she sees you, hurrying over and wrapping you in an embrace, “I’ve missed you so much.”

“It’s so crazy here,” You laugh, watching as another golf cart passes across the set to quickly transport something else.

“Oh don’t worry, I’ll show you around - it will feel like a second home in no time,” She jokes, linking her arm with yours as she starts leading you through.

You had been one of Danna’s dancers for a while now and you’d become close friends ever since you first started working with her. Now she was on the elite set, she’d invited you down to meet everybody so that the two of you could have a long awaited catch up.

“I’ll make sure I introduce you to everybody, they’re all nice so don’t worry,” She explains, “We’re kind of busy filming different stuff today so I might have to leave you a bit but there’ll always be someone around.”

She drags you over to one of the trailers and knocks quickly on the door.

“This is Mina!” She beams and a young woman opens the door with a bright smile.

“You must be (Y/n)! It’s so lovely to meet you!” You instantly recognise her as Nadia from the show and you’d heard Danna always speak highly of her.

She engulfs you in a hug and you instantly relax into trusting Danna when she’d said everyone was lovely.

“Hey!” A boy calls from behind you.

You turn around and see the two boys you knew as Ander and Omar from the show walking toward the trailer.

“(Y/n), right?” One of them smiles, walking straight toward you, “I’m Omar!”

He hugs you instantly and you knew Danna was right when she said he was one of the most extroverted on set.

“I’m Arón,” The other boy offers you a wave - Danna was also correct when she said he was a lot more introverted.

“It’s nice to meet all of you,” You smile, “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“All good things I hope,” Omar nudges her, “How long are you here for?”

“I’m in town for a couple of weeks so Danna offered to show me around, I’m just waiting for her to finish filming so we can start performing again.”

They laugh and it makes you feel even more at ease.

“Speaking of which, they were calling you to set Danna,” Arón comments, taking a sip from his water bottle.

She looks at you and sighs, “Are you going to be okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll be fine,” You glance around, “I’ll wait for you.”

“Here, I’ll show you around a bit if you’d like?” Mina suggests, “They don’t need me for a while anyway.”

You thank her and she ushers you off through a maze of more trailers, asking you questions about your career and your friendship with Danna as you went through. You’re stopped when one boy comes out of one of the trailers and looks fondly at Mina.

“You’re Dannas friend right? I’m sorry I’m terrible with names,” The boy laughs, “I’m Miguel.”

“(Y/n) - and I’m just as bad with names so don’t worry.”

“(Y/n), I’ll try to remember that,” He grins, giving you a hug too, “Fancy walking down to set with us? I think Itzan and Ester should be around there.”

You agree and follow the two of them. Miguel was just as friendly - asking similar questions to what Mina had, also telling you a little bit about the set and what they’d been filming today. He’d asked for any secrets that he could use against Danna and mentioned that he’d seen you perform at a few shows before.

“Ah! Ester, Itzan!” He calls out to two other people who had their backs to you.

“Ahhh hello beautiful!” Ester grins as she sees you, hurrying over and enveloping you in her arms. You’d met her at a party before with Danna and had stayed in Instagram-comment contact ever since.

“Hey Ester!” You smile, returning her gesture, “It’s so good to see you again.”

“You too, girl! It’s been far too long,” She beams, “Oh Sorry, this is Itzan too.”

The boy looks about your age, fresh faced however to make him look as young as his character. He has sharp features and dark hair that make him seem a lot more mysterious than his bashful smile suggested.

“Hey, nice to meet you,” He nods, glancing down at his feet before glancing back up.

Was he always this nervous?

“Yeah, you too,” You respond, trying to stop yourself from blushing at his adoring gaze.

“Here,” Miguel gestures over to some black canvas chairs, “Take a seat and we can watch the scene.”

You follow where he’d been directing you and sit down in one of the chairs, the one that would be designated for Danna. Itzan takes the seat beside you.

“So how long have you kno-“ He begins, prematurely cut off.

“Silence on set please!” The director calls from their chair.

You offer Itzan a smile instead and turn to watch Danna in her scene with Jorge and the man who played their father.

- - - - - -

“They weren’t too bad were they?” Danna jokes as she walks over to where the group of you had been to watch the scene.

“No, no, not at all,” You shake your head, “Good job on the scene.”

“I find it so hard to not laugh at Jorge!” She exclaims, hitting his arm as he walks up beside her.

The boy laughs and shakes his curls, “Nice to meet you (Y/n).”

Danna turns her attention to Itzan who’s beside you with his eyes trailing the floor, “You okay Itzan?”

He glances up and nods, “Yeah, I’m okay.”

“You sure, buddy?” Miguel clasps his shoulder, “You look a little flushed.”

“No, I’m good,” He slips through the group, getting away from their attention, “I should probably get ready for my scene.”

“They didn’t even call us yet!” Ester laughs, “Whats up with him?”

Danna catches your eye contact and shoots you a knowing look, “I have no idea.”

- - - - - -

“So, they need me to stay for a few hours tonight to do some evening scenes,” Danna explains as she touches up her makeup in the trailer.

“I thought you said you were done for the day?”

“Well, plans change, don’t question it,” She responds with an evident lie, “But I did manage to find you a replacement companion for the evening.”

“What?” You laugh, “It’s fine, I’ll just head back to my hotel room.”

“Itzan wants to take you out.”

“Itzan?” You raise your brows, “He told you that or you forced him?”

She rolls her eyes at you, “He was just too nervous earlier, but he really wants to go out with you.”

You eye her suspiciously, “Okay, fine.”

You couldn’t lie and say that you weren’t excited. He was handsome to say the least and there was something about his offset nervous nature that made him intriguing to you.

“Where are we going?”

“You will find out later, darling,” She shoots you a wink, “There’s an outfit on my rail that you can wear, and I just need you to text me to let me know you’re safe,” She jokes.

- - - - - -

As Danna has promised, there’s a knock on her trailer only half an hour later and you find yourself checking your appearance quickly before opening the door.

“So Danna said you didn’t have plans tonight, and she didn’t want you to be alone,” Itzan explains, “Would you maybe want to go out with me?”

“Yeah, Id love to,” You smile warmly, “I’ll just grab my purse.”

You check your outfit again. Danna had left a pair of suit shorts with a black bodysuit with the matching suit jacket and you were relieved she’d actually given you something that you felt comfortable in.

“So where were you thinking of going?” You ask as you follow the path he takes through the set.

“Danna didn’t tell you? She said she’d already made a reservation when I spoke to her,” He frowns, “I thought you would’ve known.”

You laugh a little, “Looks like neither of us know. I’m sure she’s got a car booked.”

You’re pleasantly surprised by how easily you and Itzan strike up conversation. He was a good listener, you learnt. He was welcoming and easy to talk to and he remembered little details and asked you more about them. You had niche things in common and even started debating things you disagreed on - like your favourite Marvel movie.

It flows so well that you find yourself eating lukewarm food at the fancy restaurant after forgetting about eating for so long. Danna had booked a restaurant for you and she’d already covered the cost of the table. You’d thank her later.

“I’ve had a really great time tonight, thank you for keeping me company,” You smile as the two of you decide to walk back to set instead of taking the car.

He matches your pace as he walks beside you, “I did have to get Danna’s help to try to somewhat ask you out.”

You laugh, “Yeah I figured she didn’t have any scenes to film tonight.”

“Not exactly,” He scratches the back of his neck, “I’m not the best at stuff like this.”

“Well I’d say you’ve done a pretty good job so far,” You reassure him, wrapping your arms around yourself in the cold.

“You’re cold?” He frowns a little, tugging off his jacket without question, “Here.”

You turn towards him and let him drape the jacket over your shoulders. His fingertips brush the hair away from your shoulders and linger there for a moment. You’re pleasantly surprised at the delicate confidence behind his touch as his hand moves to instead cup your jaw and he slowly leans in to match his lips with yours. It’s soft and his lips still hold onto the sweet taste of the champagne from dinner. They’re soft and young and you find yourself practically melting under his gesture.

“Looks like your confidence is improving,” You mumble against his lips as he pulls away slightly.

“Maybe Danna should have a few more evening shoots whilst you’re here,” He smirks, hands sliding down your arms until one of them locks with one of yours.

“Yeah, I think I’d like that.”

[basilrazzledazzle]

I’m just gonna pretend you didn’t just say that I shouldn’t waste my time writing to you—I absolutely love talking to you, and no amount of work could stop me from doing so, hehe. <3

Today was a lighter day of work, thankfully. Nothing I couldn’t do, so I didn’t have to overwork myself. I guess I kind of overworked myself yesterday, technically...but it was worth it! I got to work on the harder stuff so I don’t have to work on it today! You better be taking care of yourself, though! Or else I’ll bonk you!

I may be a dork, but that just makes the two of us <3 Youre the cutest.

Hmm, while I’m good at baking, I’m not really that good at cooking. Not burning the house down kind of bad, but...still pretty bad, hehe. I usually end up buying food or heating up microwave food — I’d love for you to teach me though, honey! That would be really fun! Your cooking is probably amazing~

Oh! And how was today treating you? How are you feeling, sugar? 🤍

— With kisses, Sugawara 🤍

i’m glad you like talking to me. i know it sounds stupid, but i always feel like a nuisance. it’s weird  — i usually struggle to open up to people, but once i do, i get scared that i’ve gone too. does that make sense? i don’t really open up fully to anyone. it may be a stupid analogy, but we learnt about it in history and i kind of thought it made sense? but like, america’s first serial killer was h. h. holmes. he had this big hotel that became known as the murder castle. the thing is, when he had people building it, he didn’t have anyone building the whole thing. he hired different people for different parts. so no one really knew the layout of the entire building. i don’t know, that probably doesn’t make any sense. i’m exhausted and rambling. but what i’m trying to say is, i tend to feel like a burden, so i try not to be. thus, putting only a little of myself into multiple people. though it’s probably caused by bad experiences by putting my full self into friendships with people who decided it wasn’t worth the effort anymore. i mean, i’m friends with them again now, but i don’t want to go all-in again. 

sorry, i guess i kind of went on a tangent there, didn’t i? half of it probably didn’t even make sense. i’m not the best at putting what i feel into words.

also!! i told you not to be overworking yourself!! and here you are, saying you overworked yourself. you better watch out — if you keep that up, i might just call you in sick and make you stay home and rest, if i have to take care of myself, then so do you!!

but anyway, i would love to teach you how to cook! i think it would be really fun, hehe. i’m also slowly getting better at grilling. but, it’s probably better if i stick to stovetop meals. i grew up in a country family with tons of recipes passed down. i may not be able to cook as well as my parents or grandparents, but i’m not horrible either. besides, practice makes perfect. we’ll just have to learn them together.

today wasn’t the worst. but i mean, it wasn’t great either. my mom is still.. disagreeable. but nothing majorly bad happened. but it’s like.. i don’t know if you’ve read the divergent series, but in the last book, they use this water constantly dripping on a stone and eroding it in comparison to their rebellion. slowly wearing it down a little at a time. that’s kind of how i’ve been feeling recently. nothing absolutely horrid has happened in the past week or so, but it’s just multiple minor inconveniences. between having to deal with that at home and pushing my own limits with my classes, it’s just starting to become a lot. so i guess to answer your question, i’m feeling tired. but it’s better when i get to write to you :)

oh, i was wondering earlier — do you like painting? or sketching? i thought that would be something fun we might be able to do together hehe. just like, going to a park and setting up an easel? or i used to do this thing with a friend where we would just pass a sketchbook back and forth and add on to what the last person drew. it’s a lot of fun!! but i know some people don’t like drawing, so it’s totally understandable. even so, i’ll have to show you my art sometime. you MIGHT even get sketchbook-viewing priveleges — just don’t go into it with very high expectations.

also, one more question: what’s your hogwarts house? (if you say gryffindor, i might just pretend i didn’t hear you)

i hope you sleep well!! sorry for kind of a long response. don’t worry about addressing all of it, it’s mostly just me rambling. i hope you have a good day tomorrow <3 and start taking better care of yourself!! or i’ll bonk you!!

[back-and-totheleft]

His anger is his art

Oliver Stone is worried that Donald Trump doesn’t get enough sleep.

“He doesn’t sleep a lot. He doesn’t take good care of his health. Don’t you think there’s some pile-up, if you don’t sleep for several years like this?”

I feel a movie coming on. Stone, after all, made W, a film about President George W Bush; this one, perhaps, could be The Don. Sure enough, he seems to be thinking about it.

“There’s nothing that could quite capture this fellow. He’s quite a whirlwind, a fascinating dramatic character. Shakespearean too, in the sense that he’s so emotional — at times he creates a storm, almost purposely every day, to keep the energy going. He creates a storm inside himself. He’s King Lear in a strange way too — which daughter loves me more?”

He’s also thinking about the murder of George Floyd, but he thinks a black director should make it.

We are Zooming. He is in Los Angeles in a large book-lined room, I am not. He’s not lost his looks — sort of handsome, friendly but in your face — and his conversation is warmly attentive.

The talk of possible films is all Stone business as usual, running towards the news and the gunfire, especially if it’s American. At 73, his soul is still that of the gonzo movie-maker who turned out almost unbearably violent films such as Platoon and Salvador. But he did them because he hates film and television violence. He learnt about the real thing when, in 1967, he joined up and volunteered to fight in Vietnam. He left garlanded with honours but angry.

“I was known for my violent screenplays, but it came from a background of real violence. There was a lot of it I saw, and I wanted to depict it accurately. I really hated that. All the TV shows — 1970s, 1980s, 1990s. Same old bullshit. I hated the fake violence, so I was trying in my movies to move away from Rambo bullshit. It just doesn’t look as good as it does in the movies; it never does.”

And now he’s written an autobiography, Chasing the Light, covering his life up to 1986. He was 40 then; Platoon had just been released and, earlier that year, Salvador. Platoon won four Oscars, one for best director, and Salvador was nominated for two, one for best writing — Stone co-wrote it. It was, as he says, “a remarkable two-film journey from the bottom back to the top of the Hollywood mountain”. He had arrived, he had been accepted. The book ends with him trailing clouds of glory.

“I’d managed to crest into the light,” he writes. “Money, fame, glory and honor, it was all there at the same time and space. I had to move now. I’d been waiting too many years to make films. Time had wings. I wanted to make one after the other in a race against that time — I suppose really a race against myself in a hall of mirrors of my own making.”

Will there, I wonder, be another volume?

“Yes, of course. Why not? I think it’s important for me to at least come to grips with things because it goes so fast. You don’t really get it all. You don’t — one event after the other. One movie after the other. You’re always dealing with people, people, people. It’s hard to have that solitary space.”

He kept diaries “to understand myself, to understand what happened”. As a result the book is phenomenally well detailed. It opens with an account of filming a scene from Salvador. It’s a cavalry charge being shot in Mexico; everything that could go wrong seems to be going wrong, and the money — where on earth is the money? But somehow he pulls it off. Reading that made my head spin: how could anybody live with such levels of risk? Reading his diaries made him ask the same question about himself.

“I always knew I was bold, but I never realised that I was crazy too and risked a lot. At 39, with nothing in my future, my father dying, my mother dependent on me, a new wife, a new baby — and I go and put everything I have into this idea, this crazy idea to shoot this movie.”

He has, as the critic Pauline Kael noted, a divided sensibility: “He’s working outside the industry, in freedom, but he’s got all this Hollywood muck in his soul.” She never liked his films, but he accepts this judgment. The book also stands up her analysis — one minute he’s the guerrilla film-maker, the next he’s lapping up the glamour, the drugs and the schmoozing with stars. But the real divisions are much deeper than that. The first is the division between his father and mother.

He was born in New York. His father, Louis, was a high-ranking soldier turned stockbroker; his mother, Jacqueline, an elegant, beautiful French lady Louis met while fighting with the allies in Europe. She loved parties and glamour — Stone says she would have loved him to make a flowery romantic film. His evocation of her character is laden with love for her. Louis was more complex, serially unfaithful and constantly at war with the demon money.

One day, when he was 16, Stone had a phone call at his private boarding school: his parents were separating. It was a pivotal moment.

“I was naive. I thought it was a happy, loving family and I was very privileged to have that. The divorce was cruel in the way that it was done. It was brutal, and it shocked me because I was naive. The whole world fell apart. They split, and there’s nothing else. There’s no brothers, there’s no sisters. There’s no home. And as a result you become an orphan of the storm. If Charles Dickens were writing it, it might be an Oliver Twist story … I used to get kidded that my name was Oliver. And maybe I did feel an identification with him.”

His education faltered. He went to Yale but never completed his degree. At 18 he started wandering the world and at 20 he enlisted, then apparently forced himself to see the worst things that could be seen in Vietnam. The book starts 10 years later when he is at his lowest ebb. He speaks of himself in the third person while talking about this moment.

“He confronts his failures in life. He sees that he hasn’t gotten his dream, what he wanted to do. And his grandmother dies. He had gone to see her on this deathbed in Paris and he talks to her. And she communicates to him, and she tells him how he must live his life the way he is doing it, he’s following his instincts. And she loved me, and she’d always loved me and believed in me. That was a big thing. Something happened at 30 with her death. And I became more mature, and my success started to flow from there.”

His attempts to reconstruct a family have been patchy. His present wife is his third, and he has two sons and a daughter. There’s a moving moment in the book when he holds one of his sons, Sean, in his arms.

“If ever there was proof,” he writes, “we are born with a sweet nature, this was it; the veils come later.”

He has a Wordsworthian sense that we arrive trailing clouds of glory, but somehow the world takes all that away. So does he think we are born good? “Yeah, I think so. A baby is innocent, beautiful. You see it in baby animals. They don’t know what the world is.”

The second division is America. He came back, he says, “very divided and alienated”.

“Nobody was walking around over there saying: I’m against the war. No. A lot of us knew the war was bullshit. Certainly the black soldiers knew that, they didn’t really believe in it.”

Stone became an American exceptionalist. Usually that means somebody who regards the US as an especially good country; Stone regards it as especially bad.

“The divide was growing when I came back and that’s still with us. You see it coming down to us to this very day. We have a law-and-order candidate in Mr Trump. He talks like a fool, but he talks like many people — more military, more power, more application of force, more violence.”

From Salvador and Platoon onwards, Stone’s work became an angry charge sheet, an indictment of US postwar politics. His 1989 film, Born on the Fourth of July, attacked the treatment of veterans; JFK (1991) embraces conspiracy theories about the death of Kennedy; Heaven & Earth in 1993 skewered the behaviour of Americans in Vietnam, and so on. Postwar American history became, for Stone, a descent into insanity.

“America just goes mad after the Second World War — it just goes mad. Under Eisenhower the beginning of this madness sets in. The question we have to ask ourselves now is: was there really an enemy? Russia was not the threat to Europe we pretended it to be. And, for that matter, China neither. And we created this postwar scenario that was culminating in this economic concept that had come out of the Depression, that we cannot go back to the old way again and have to keep going. We have to put money into this military economy, to keep the country pumped. There’s been no end to that, no end at all. It just keeps going up. It doesn’t matter who the president is in the end. It’s the system. And no one can beat that system. No one can control it.”

This is, you will gather, a tremendous book — readable, funny and harrowing. It’s also full of movie-making gossip, scandal and fun. If you want to know what working with a truly difficult actor is like, read his account of handling James Woods on the set of Salvador. Nevertheless, Stone sticks with Woods because “he is a genius”. Also if you want to know what it’s like to be so intoxicated at a Golden Globes ceremony that your speech is so bad and almost denies you an Oscar, then you need this book.

There is much to disagree with about Stone’s politics — America’s iniquities in the postwar period are nothing next to China’s — but his anger is his art. It’s a way of balancing out the deep divisions in his character and his feelings.

For the moment he is not too worried about the pandemic, but he is taking on a new cause: nuclear power.

“The virus seems to me the ongoing business of history. It’s just... there’s so many viruses. I don’t see it as an existential threat to the world. It’s more of a mood thing. No, I think the real issue is global warming.”

He is making a documentary, A Brighter Future, about the need to deploy nuclear power to reduce carbon emissions. “Renewables,” he says, “cannot solve it.”

There he goes again, running towards the news and the gunfire, like Oliver Twist always asking for more.

-Bryan Appleyard, “Oliver Stone interview: the Platoon director and Vietnam vet on his new memoir about his early days in Hollywood,” The Sunday Times, July 12 2020 [x]

[s-horne]

10. “Yeah, okay, but I’m cooler.” (Steve/Tony)

All Tony wanted was to curl up into bed with his husband and to switch off the whole world for at least eight hours. Twelve, if he thought he could get away with it, but that was probably asking for too much. He was proud to say that he had even left the workshop at a relatively reasonable hour for once, so that must make him deserving of a good, uninterrupted sleep.

As he stumbled his way up to their floor fighting off yawns, his blinks got longer and longer as his eyes ached to stay closed and start their slumber early. Finally, the elevator stopped and opened into his living room, waking Tony up with the annoying beep that it played. He needed to look into sorting that out, he told himself as he finally walked into his bedroom.

A small smile pulled at his lips at the sight of Steve already in their bed, sitting up and leaning back against the headboard, though it froze when he saw that Steve wasn’t alone.

Tony stopped in the doorway at the sight before him: namely, Bucky Barnes curled up beside Steve with his head resting in Tony’s husband’s lap. Steve was using the hand that wasn’t holding his book open to stroke softly through Bucky’s long hair and down over his back, fingers soothing out creases in Bucky’s worn sleep shirt. Tony half-recognised it as one of Steve’s, actually, one that Tony himself had often worn.

The two men in the bed both tensed up when they saw Tony standing in the doorway, Bucky’s hands sliding subtly up the bed until they could wrap around Steve’s leg. Tony’s eyes wandered to where Bucky’s fingers were tightening until they were digging into Steve’s calf with a pressure that would have been painful to a normal person. It was clear that he was drawing strength, though his face remained impassive as he stared straight ahead at Tony, eyes apprehensive but jaw locked tight.

There were a few tense moments before Tony did nothing more than shrug lightly as he crossed the room, continuing into the bathroom to get ready for bed. He pottered around whilst he cleaned his teeth and washed his face and when he exited the bathroom he saw both Bucky and Steve looking at him. It was clear that neither of them had moved, with their expressions reading almost nervous and even a little incredulous, the two of them just as still and as tense as they had been when he had walked into the en-suite.

“What?” Tony asked slowly, voice unsure as his eyes flickered between the two men on the bed. His gaze settled on his husband and Tony quirked an eyebrow in question, trying to come off as cocky even as his shoulders slumped.

Steve didn’t say anything and Tony groaned inwardly. Of course he had done something, he thought to himself. It was obviously his fault, hence the silent treatment, but maybe he could push the argument back until tomorrow morning so that he could get some much needed sleep. “What did I do this time?”

“What – no; why aren’t you mad?” Steve asked after a moment, squinting over at Tony sceptically.

“Why would I be mad?” Tony asked in confusion. Huh, okay. So maybe it wasn’t actually something that Tony had done for once, and a small hint of relief seeped back in. He thought about the situation for a moment more before he reworded his question. “Should I be mad?”

Steve levelled Tony with a strange look, a little reserved even as he continued his argument. Tony wasn’t used to seeing Steve guarded around him, and he wasn’t sure that he liked it.

“I mean, I am in our bed with another man.”

“Well, yeah, but not really. It’s just Bucky,” Tony said simply, as if that cleared things up.

It hadn’t been all that long since Bucky had reappeared in Steve’s life, but everybody knew the story of the two men, practically brothers, that had lost each other and been reunited nearly ten decades later. It was a legend and reporters had been jumping on the story since Bucky Barnes had been found alive and… not quite well. Bucky had been welcomed by everyone with open arms, fitting in like a missing piece, and was doing fantastic when one considered what he had gone through in his life.

“He’s in our bed,” Steve said, softly but insistently. “Tony, it’s just – well… there have been so many rumours printed lately that–”

“Steve,” Tony interrupted, holding up a hand as a small smile played around his lips. So that’s what this was about; it wasn’t Tony’s fault after all. In the several years that he and Steve had been married, they had never once doubted the other, even when the papers were filled with ridiculous gossip and libel in weak attempts to hurt them. Sometimes pictures were printed in an effort to support the lies, but they were scarily easy to brush to one side when you loved someone as much as Tony loved Steve. “If we were the sort of people that listened to rumours then you would never have gotten with me in the first place.”

“All the rumours about you were baseless accusations and downright slander.”

Tony couldn’t help the smile that graced his face at Steve’s unhesitant and protective defence and shook his head lightly. It was just typical Steve. No matter who he was in front of, Steve had always gone out of his way to defend Tony; he often even went as far as to take his defence to the press themselves with all the fury of Captain America, seeking reporters out to give his piece of mind. Steve had done so since before they had even gotten together officially and he hadn’t slowed down for a minute since their wedding. Tony swallowed down his grin as much he could as he crossed the room to the wardrobe and bent down to the drawers near the bottom, reaching in to find a fresh pair of pyjamas.

“Well then, there you go. The ones about you two are just the same.” He froze as he pulled out his clothes and turned his head slowly, eyes widening as a thought struck him suddenly, panic rising in his chest and up into his throat. “Aren’t they?”

“Yes,” Steve said quickly, immediately. It was said with such conviction that Tony couldn’t help but give another smile. If that hadn’t been enough to make Tony believe it – although he had never really doubted Steve for a second – the way that Bucky’s face screwed up in involuntary disgust before soothing back out to a careful blankness a mere second later sealed the deal.

“Fine, then,” Tony continued, his heart rate dropping back down to something close to normal. He turned back to the wardrobe and closed the drawer with his foot as he began to get changed, completely uncaring that Bucky was in the room. The man was now looking the other way, but even if he wasn’t Tony wasn’t exactly shy and it was nothing that no one on the team had not seen before anyway.

“Besides, I’m so much cooler than Barnes anyway. Why would you pick him when you could have me?”

Steve’s mouth quirked up into a grin as Tony shot a wink over his shoulder. “Why, indeed?”

“I get it, babe” Tony continued as he shimmied into his sleep pants and kicked away his jeans. “It’s okay. Bucky had a rough day today. I saw the little panic in the kitchen earlier long before the press conference even started and I–”

“It was more than a little panic,” Bucky said suddenly, his voice quiet even as a growl underpinned his speech.

“Not really,” Tony disagreed lightly before Steve could say anything. Tony purposely kept his tone causal and breezy as he pulled his shirt over his head, turning around when he was done but not looking down at Bucky. “It was totally justified if you ask me. I’d have done a hell of a lot worse. Have done a lot worse, actually.” 

Bucky scoffed and twisted his head to bury himself in Steve’s leg, hiding his face as though the memories of the day could be wiped away if no one could see him. Tony was used to that feeling, but he had learnt from personal experience that life didn’t work quite like that. Sharing a look with Steve over the top of Bucky’s head, Tony bit his lip and climbed into bed.

“Jarv? Get the lights, please. Leave the lamps, though.”

Jarvis obeyed Tony’s command and just as Tony had gotten himself comfortable under the intimidating amount of blankets that Steve liked to pile on top of them, Bucky sighed deeply and disrupted the whole bed. In the dim light, Tony saw how Bucky’s hands began to shake around Steve’s leg as he pushed himself up and made to get out of Steve’s embrace.

“Where are you going, Buck?” Steve asked immediately, his hands hovering over Bucky’s shoulders as he leant forward, alert and concerned.

“To bed?” Bucky said hesitantly, lifting an eyebrow at his friend as his eyes glanced over to Tony before back to Steve quickly.

“Um, you’re in a bed,” Tony pointed out, squinting at Bucky as he patted the comforter back down around him before any cold air could get in. “I know it might have been a while since you had one, but…”

Steve rolled his eyes at Tony and reached over to poke him lightly in the side. Tony fell back dramatically with the movement, a soft huff of laughter escaping him as he righted himself and gave Steve a cheeky wink.

“But–”

“Just go to sleep,” Tony said in response to Bucky’s stuttering as he adjusted the pillow under his head. “This bed is big enough for seven, so don’t worry, you won’t touch me in the middle of the night and offend your delicate sensibilities.”

Bucky huffed at that but made to keep protesting when Tony sighed loudly and pushed himself further up the bed.

“You obviously won’t sleep if you go to your room and if you don’t sleep then that means that Steve won’t sleep because he’ll be worrying about you all night long. If Steve won’t be able to sleep, I won’t sleep and I actually need to get some shuteye for once because I have a presentation in the morning so…” Tony reached out a hand and grabbed a hold of Bucky’s sleeve, yanking him back to lie down on the bed between him and Steve. “Lie down and shut up.”

It was a testament to how much Bucky didn’t want to be alone that he actually let himself be pulled back onto the bed, not fighting the touch at all like he would have done once. Hell, even that morning he would have shied away from any and all forms of contact.

Steve watched with a smile as Tony shuffled around a little bit more, scooting back obediently when Tony pushed Bucky gently into him and off of Tony’s favoured pillow.

“Oh my… how many blankets do we… this is getting out of hand.”

When Tony was finally settled and comfortable beneath the four hundred layers he lifted his head expectantly and met Steve’s gaze over Bucky’s awkward body.

“Goodnight, darlin’,” he said and smiled when Steve didn’t hesitate for a second about leaning over his best friend, obediently squashing Bucky between them as he bent down to drop a long kiss to his husband’s lips.

When he pulled away, Tony watched as Steve twisted to place his book on the bedside table and flicked off the lamp before he lay down too. It was a little strange, sharing their space with someone else and therefore not being able to cuddle close to Steve as he would normally do every other night, but when Steve held out his arm above Bucky’s head, it felt just like usual. Tony took his husband’s hand eagerly, linking their fingers together.

Steve lifted his head to whisper a goodnight to Bucky before they noticed that the man was fast sleep between them already, the lines of his forehead smoothed out and his whole face looking a lot younger than he usually did. Tony grinned at the softness on Steve’s face at the sight and squeezed his husband’s fingers a little tighter as he let his eyes finally slip closed.

It had been a funny year and in some ways it wasn’t getting easier but in other ways, well, maybe it was.

[heyyyharry]

Open Book

(from the Flatmate!Harry Series)

…in which Y/N meets a stranger in the library, and Harry’s got new problems to face.

Warning: mostly fluff and a bit of naughty texting, also this is the longest chapter so far I think so probably there’s a bunch of mistakes in here because I was too frustrated to edit. 😂

(I wanted to update my other series In Another Life before this but I accidentally deleted half of the third chapter of that series so yeah I’m just gonna update this first. This chapter is really long, I hope it’s not too confusing because it’s hard to write when the main characters are in two different locations and timezones. This motivates me to bring Harry home sooner (or maybe bring Y/N to Harry?). Anyway, enjoy and drag me if you must, my inbox is open!)

.

Y/N is one of the few people left in the library tonight. There’s an exam coming up so she plans to stay here until closing hour. Despite trying to focus on her text book, Y/N can’t help but notice the guy sitting two tables away has been staring at her ever since she sat down. He looks away whenever their eyes meet, it’s very obvious, but Y/N doesn’t care. She just wants to finish this chapter then comes home to call Harry.

It’s 8PM now, the library is closed so Y/N has to leave. She makes her way to the bus stop on her own, subconsciously thinking about Harry like she always does, until her thoughts are interrupted by the sound of someone else’s footsteps.

She’s not alone.

There’s this middle-aged man walking behind her. She speeds up, he speeds up, she slows down, he slows down. Y/N’s first thought is maybe she should call Harry, but then she remembers he’s living on the other side of the world now, he cannot be here to save her.

“Y/N!”

Y/N spins around immediately. Her eyes flicker with a light of hope when she sees the boy in the library walking towards her. The middle-aged man notices as well, then ends up quickly walking away. He cannot do anything to her now that a tall and strong young man suddenly appears.

“Are you okay?”

“I don’t know who you are and how you know my name but thank you for saving my life,” she says quickly in one breath, which makes the guy laugh in response.

“You left your notebook behind, your name was on it,” he tells her with a gentle smile and returns the notebook to its rightful owner. “That man was such a creep. Why are you walking home alone at night?”

“It’s okay, I do it all the time,” she assures him, but he shakes his head to disagree.

“You shouldn’t. To be honest I used the notebook as an excuse to talk to you but I’m glad I’d showed up before anything bad happened.“

Y/N is rooted to her spot for a brief moment, eyes wide, mouth agape, astounded. She’s not sure what to say after hearing that, being flirted with by a stranger is never her speciality.

“I—um…I’ve got a boyfriend,” she blurts out. The look on his face after that makes her cheeks turn red. “God, I’m sorry, I can’t believe I just assumed you were flirting I—”

“I was.”

“Sorry?”

“I was,” he repeats with a slight chuckle at her cute reaction. “But don’t worry, I respect that. I can’t say I’m not disappointed but it’s fine if you’re taken.”

“Thanks.” Thanks? Y/N’s inner self rolls her eyes, wondering why the hell would she even say something so dumb. “I should get going now.”

“Where do you live? I’ll drive you home.”

Y/N gives the boy a funny look as she reaches out to put a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t offer a stranger a ride! I could be a psychopath!”

“Well.” He shrugs. “What are the chances that we’re both psychopaths?”

“You expect me to get in the same car with you after that?” She squints her eyes at him, smiling a little bit.

As if just waiting for that, the guy takes out his ID from his wallet then hands it to her, trying not to laugh when he sees how surprised she is.

“You can take a photo of my ID and send it to any of your friends, maybe your boyfriend, so if something happens to you I’ll take full responsibility.”

“Wow, okay, I believe you, Ethan.” She reads the information on the card before putting it into the pocket of her jacket. “But…I’m keeping this until I get home safe.”

“Alright miss.” Ethan’s radiant smile is soon to reappear. “Shall we go?”

...

Harry’s whole face lights up when his girlfriend appears on the laptop screen. 

“Hi baby!” he says while rubbing the sleep from his eyes and asks her where she’s been.

“I told you I was studying at the library.” Y/N knows it’s wrong to tell your boyfriend only half of the story when she’s promised to never hide anything from him. But things are different now that he’s not here anymore, she can’t just tell him she was in danger when the guy who had been checking her out in the library came to save her and drove her home! He would freak out then spend the whole day worrying for sure!

“I forgot. Ugh, I’m so forgetful these days.” Harry furrows his eyebrows in frustration and it's upsetting for her to see how stressed he is.

“I know you’ve been working hard but don’t push your limits, H.”

Harry gives her an assuring smile. “I’m fine, baby. No need to worry about me.”

Harry actually loves his job and the fact that he’s learnt a lot in the past week working in the new environment. Everything is just great, well — almost everything.

“Let’s not talk about my job for now. Let’s talk about you.”

“About me?”

“Layla told me you wouldn’t come to her birthday party this weekend. She was so disappointed.” Harry scrunches up his face. “That’s Layla we’re talking about! I’ve been gone for only a week but I feel like I’ve missed a whole lot.”

Y/N giggles. “We’ve spent a lot of time together. She even called me her ‘friend’ by accident the other day! Isn’t it crazy?!”

“So why aren’t you going to her birthday party?”

“You know I get anxious around strangers.”

“But Layla’s gonna be there with you and Niall as well. Maybe you’ll have fun.”

“I just think that—“ Before Y/N can finish her sentence, the laptop shuts down immediately, along with all the electricity devices in Harry’s flat. This is the third time this week his power is cut off, and Harry can’t take it anymore. He decides to come banging on the door of the flat in front of his.

It takes a little while until his neighbor Hana shows up at the door, wearing only her dark blue bathrobe and nothing else underneath, probably just got out of bed. Her black hair is tied up in a bun and she’s got no make-up on but her skin is glowing. She looks radiant for someone who just woke up, in the meantime he probably looks like a walking dead.

“Harry!” 

Hana’s face lights up and Harry’s expression hardens when he snaps back to reality. Then he decides to just go straight to the point. “Why is there a power-cut in my flat?”

“Why are you asking me?" 

“Because your family owns this building or is it another one of your lies?”

“Here we go again...” Hana rolls her eyes, leaning her shoulder against the doorframe as she studies the stern look on his face. “I guess you’re still mad at me.”

“I only get mad at those I care about.”

“Ouch.” She furrows her eyebrows, resting one hand on her hip and watches his face contort. “Not telling the whole truth isn’t the same as lying, Harry.”

“Oh really?” Harry exhales a heavy laugh, which is not at all for humor. “Then why did you tell me you were still in university?”

“I told you I moved back here for university, I never said I was still in university. You just assumed that because I looked younger!”

Harry purses his lips, maybe this one is really his fault, not hers. Still who would’ve thought someone with a face like that could be five years older than him? ‘Asian beauty secrets keep me young,’ he remembers her saying that.

“Okay so you might not have lied about your age!” Harry shrugs, but this isn’t over yet. “However, you did kiss me without my consent, even when you knew you're not only the executive assistant for the firm I’m working for but also my assigned instructor!”

Hana facepalms herself. He had been ignoring her since he found out who she was. She tried to talk to him yet he refused unless it was work-related. So when Harry showed up at her door today, Hana thought it could be a good sign for their relationship, but apparently she was wrong.

“Alright, for the hundredth time,” Hana heaves a sigh as she clasps both hands together in front of her chest. “I apologize. When we kissed I didn’t realize you were that intern from London. Never would’ve done it had I known.”

Hana takes Harry’s silence as a sign to continue.

“And I’m sorry you’re stuck with me. The boss asked me to find you a place to stay, and my family just happened to have an empty flat available.”

“You expect me to say thank you or something?”

“No, I just want us to put this behind and be good neighbors.” She curves her lips into a smile and offers her hand as a friendly gesture. 

Though Harry’s still a bit irritated, he’s now less angry than before. So he decides to give her a chance and shakes her hand to get this over with.

"Now could you just have someone turn the power back on for me?” Harry pleads, but Hana gives him a shrug.

“Sorry it’s been like that for months now. You’re just gonna have to wait an hour or so.”

“Fuck!”

“You’re being grumpy, Harry. You could use that city tour I offered.” She puts a hand on his shoulder but he shrugs it right off. 

“No thank you,” he repeats the exact same thing he told her the last time. “I would like to keep our relationship strictly business.”

“Is your girlfriend back home jealous or something?” 

“Don’t bring my girlfriend into this.”

“So you do have a girlfriend.” Hana slightly chuckles, but Harry keeps a straight face still. “Don’t worry, I’m not flirting with you. Well—“ she suddenly pauses and tilts her head slightly to one side “—from now on.”

Harry wants to ask her what that’s supposed to mean, but before he’s got a chance, Hana shuts the door right in front of his face. 

…

“Y/N!” Layla shouts from the library entrance the moment she spots her friend. She ignores the grumpy librarian telling her to shush and just hurries toward the desk where Y/N’s sitting next to her new friend Ethan.

“Emergency!” She slams her hand down on the table in front of the startled pair, immediately gaining attention from everyone nearby and a warning dead glare from the librarian. Layla mumbles an apology then lowers her voice. “Niall’s coming to my fucking birthday party! So you’re going as well, no matter you like it or not!”

“Layla, I told you, pool parties just aren’t my thing.” Well, any kind of parties...

“I bet you said the same thing about Harry but now you’re fucking him.”

Y/N’s cheeks turn red as she looks down and Ethan just awkwardly rubs the back of his head. That’s when Layla finally notice his presence. 

“Who’s your new friend?”

“This is Ethan, the one I told you about. Ethan, this is Layla.”

“Oh the guy who saved you the other night!” Layla exclaims but Y/N gives her a look as a warning not to go too far with her jokes.

“Sweet Ethan, would you like to come to my party?” Layla bends over the table and rests her elbows on it, her chin on her knuckles, blinking her eyes teasingly at the confused guy. “Maybe Y/N would come if you do.”

Y/N opens her mouth to speak but Layla shuts her up right away. “You told me you didn’t want to be lonely there, so I got you someone, now you have to go.”

“You’re being manipulative, Layla.”

“Thanks.” Layla smirks before turning her attention back to the new boy. “I’ll leave you to think about it, but I’m counting on ya to convince her.”

“Layla—” Y/N sighs but her girl friend ignores that and just walks away from the desk without looking back. After Layla’s out of the library, Y/N turns back to Ethan and gives him an apologetic smile.

“Sorry about that, she can be a bit...overwhelming sometimes.”

“It’s okay.” Ethan chuckles. “If you want to go, I can go with you.”

“I don’t want to.”

“Why not?”

“I—” Y/N leaves her mouth open for two seconds as she tries to think of a better reason to avoid another social event. “I don’t think I’ll fit in. I...I tend to get anxious when I’m surrounded by many people I don’t know.”

“What about Layla?” Ethan raises an eyebrow at the girl whose eyes are on the text book in front of her. “Because she was practically begging for you to show up.”

“Layla—Well...I don’t know...I think she’s only hanging out with me because I help her with something, maybe she doesn’t actually like me.”

“So you’re afraid she’s only using you?”

“No...Uhm...Maybe? I honestly don’t know who to trust anymore, you won’t get it.”

Ethan lets out a slight laugh, then closes the novel in his hand and taps on the cover to get her attention.

“This is you,” he says, making her smile in confusion.

“A book?”

“A closed book!” Ethan raises a finger as he corrects her and Y/N immediately asks what he actually means by saying so. 

“You want people to know your story but you refuse to let them read you, because what if they don’t like you, right? What if they wrinkle the pages and tear the covers? So you stay on the shelf instead, watching other books get borrowed and become best sellers while wishing you were them.”

Y/N just stares at him with widened eyes. She’s not saying anything, not because she thinks he’s talking nonsense, but because the comparison is so spot on that it shocks her more than just a bit.

Ethan presses his lips to form a gentle smile as he continues, “Y/N, you want to make new friends, hang out with people like Layla, at the same time you hold yourself back because you think you’re too boring for anyone to like, which is wrong by the way. You’ve got to believe in yourself, love. How do you know you’re gonna fail if you don’t try?”

For that one second, Y/N swears she sees Harry in Ethan.

“Y/N,” he calls her name and she blinks a couple of times to snap back to reality.

“Yes Ha—uh Ethan?”

“I’ll go with you if you change your mind.” Ethan smiles at her, and she smiles back, before turning her eyes to the book under his palm. 

...

It’s 10PM and Harry’s still at the office, trying to finish proofreading these contracts and planning the executive’s meeting schedules for tomorrow. He’s not sure if it’s anything he said to Hana the last time he was at her door but she’s been a bit harsh on him ever since. She gave him extra tasks and didn’t try to talk to him like she normally would. It’s hard to admit but Harry kind of misses her constantly annoying him.

Ding. The notification on Harry’s phone gets his attention immediately. His girlfriend just sent him a new photo so he doesn’t hesitate to open the text. Harry almost chokes on air when he sees the photo of Y/N wearing a tight spaghetti-strap dress, which is so unlike her, and he doesn’t mean that in a bad way because she’s looking smoking hot. The message that goes with the photo is: Gonna be wearing this to Layla’s birthday :) x

Harry drops everything he’s doing to pick up the phone with both hands and types down a reply immediately: 

Is that a new dress???

No it’s Layla’s, she wanted me to wear it to her party. What do you think?

You look so sexy baby but I demand a photo with the dress off!

I’m on the bus!

I don’t mind getting you off in public ;) 

I hate you!

But I love you and I miss you and I’m horny and I need to touch you aaaaaah! I would fuck you while you’re in that dress, then again when you’re out of it.

A smirk displays on Harry’s face as he rubs his bottom lip with his forefinger, thinking about how red her face must be as she’s typing down a reply then deleting it because she’s embarrassed. She always gets so flushed and shy when he says stuff like that and that’s what turns him on. 

It takes a moment, but finally, her text arrives: 

I wish you were here.

Just by reading that one simple sentence, Harry almost wants to book a plane ticket and fly home with her instantly. He knew what he signed up for when he accepted the internship offer, he just didn’t think a long distance relationship would be this hard. 

Harry came to this foreign country on his own, not knowing anyone nor the language, then got an annoying neighbor who’s also his superior and probably hates him now. His first week in Japan has been wild. Nevertheless, none of those problems come close to the fact that she’s not here. The person he used to be would always manage to have fun no matter where he was or who he was with. The person he is now just can’t stop thinking about this one girl who’s got his whole heart in the palm of her hand. 

I’m getting off the bus now, text you later?

Have a great day baby :) I love you

I love you more :)

Harry reads her last text then tosses his head back and blows air through his mouth in frustration. Fuck. Now he hates everything, well, everything except for her. 

It’s getting late so Harry packs up to leave, the thought of Y/N has never left his mind. He turns the lights off then walks out of the office, assuming he’s the only one here, but apparently not. The lights in the meeting room are still on. 

He stops at the door to find Hana sitting alone by the desk, crying. She looks at him with her eyes all smudged then hastily wipes her tears away.

“What happened? Are you alright?” Harry asks in concern as he enters the room then stands in front of Hana on the other side of the desk.

“I’m fine. Don’t mind me,” replies the older girl while she’s staring at her lap. It seems like she expects him to walk away right after she told him so, which is why Hana is surprised to see him still standing there. 

“You know...” he begins. The corners of his mouth turn up when she finally holds his eye-contact. “I think it’s not too late for that city tour.”

...

Y/N arrives at Layla’s birthday party, with Ethan as her companion. At first she was having doubts about the dress. She thought it was too much and would get people to pay attention to her, which was the opposite of what she wanted. Even so she couldn’t wear something else because she had given Layla her word. 

“Don’t worry, you look great,” Ethan whispers into her ear when they spot Layla and her group drinking by the pool. The birthday girl is more than excited to see Y/N.

“You're here!” To Y/N’s surprise, Layla runs towards her and violently attacks her with a tight hug. 

“Layla, you’re drunk already!”

“A bit, yeah. I need alcohol to do this.” She nods quickly then turns to Ethan. “I can’t thank you enough for dragging her ass to my party!”

“You’re welcome,” he replies with a small smile then tells the girls he’ll go get drinks for Y/N and himself.

“Bye sweetie!” Layla drunkenly waves at Ethan as he walks away, then quickly turns back to Y/N, holding both of her arms, looking utterly frantic.

“I saw Niall but I can’t do it!”

“Yes, you can!” Y/N holds Layla’s face between her palms then looks straight into her green eyes. “You’re going to get your shit together, go find him, then tell him how you feel, just like we’ve discussed!”

“Okay, what if he says no?”

“How do you know you’re gonna fail if you don’t try?” Y/N repeats the same words Ethan said the other day. Layla quickly nods her head then pulls Y/N into another hug, this one lasts longer than the previous one.

“Thank you,” she mumbles before pulling away, holding Y/N’s shoulders firmly. “I’ll be right back, hopefully with good news!”

“Yes! You go girl!” Y/N flashes her a smile then watches the birthday girl flee away.

...

Everything has been going well for Y/N. She’s been laughing and dancing and chatting with Ethan and the others, and for the first time since Harry left she’s actually having a good time. She’s proud of herself, and she’s happy, but it’s been an hour already and Layla hasn’t come back with her good news. Y/N tries to not think too much about it, until she runs into Niall...and his date.

“Hey, Niall!” Y/N smiles at him but her eyebrows are furrowed as she’s confused by the other girl’s presence.

“Oh hey Y/N!” Niall replies cheerfully then grabs the brunette behind him by the hand, slightly pulling her to the front. “This is Harry’s girlfriend Y/N. Y/N, this is my girlfriend—”

Niall tells Y/N the girl’s name but Y/N can’t make out anything else after that word. Her eyes almost pop out of her head when she repeats it one more time in tone of a question. 

“Girlfriend?!”

“Yeah, we just made it official yesterday.”

“Oh God...”

“What is it?”

“No nothing.” YN shakes her head in response to a puzzled Niall then asks him, “does Layla know?”

“Yeah, we ran into Layla, Liam, and Louis a moment ago.”

Y/N groans into the palms of her hands then turns to Ethan, telling him to give her a minute before excusing herself to leave quickly. As she pushes her way through the crowd, Y/N hears Niall calling after her asking what’s going on but she ignores him completely and steals two bottles of wine on her way.

If I was a birthday girl with a broken heart, where would I go? Y/N asks herself, though she’s already got the answer. That’s how she ends up here, in the toilets and finds Layla sobbing in one of the stalls.

“Layla?” Y/N slightly knocks on the door and receives a soft hum as a reply. “Hey, it’s Y/N, let me—”

The door swings open and Layla walks out before Y/N can even finish that sentence. 

“Are you okay?” Y/N’s question comes out almost as a whisper. This is the first time she’s ever seen Layla cry.

“I haven’t told him. He brought her here, they’re dating,” the poor girl breaks the news to Y/N, whose face scrunches up immediately. She can relate to how Layla’s feeling right now in a way, because before her Harry’s been with plenty of other girls. However she guesses this is different, Harry was just fooling around with those girls whereas Niall’s actually in a relationship now.

Y/N sighs then raises the two wine bottles in the air, making Layla turn away from the mirror to look at her with a broken smile. “I don’t normally drink but if you want to get wasted, let’s do it.”

“Harry’s taught you well,” Layla jokes as she accepts one bottle from the girl without hesitation. She’s never said no to alcohol, and right now, she thinks she needs it more than ever.

...

The night ends with Layla dragging Y/N’s body from the lift, all the way to the flat she shares with Harry then to her bed. 

“Be carefully!” Layla shouts, but it’s already too late.

Y/N knocks over the lamp on her nightstand as both of them fall down onto her bed. Layla groans in pain while Y/N is just laughing hysterically for no reason. Layla leaves Y/N lying on her back and sits up on the edge, staring down at her tipsy friend.

“Next time don’t drink more than you can, you idiot,” Layla speaks under her breath but she can’t hide the smile on her face. 

The silence in the room is torn down by Y/N’s ringtone. While Y/N’s groaning and giggling like a madwoman, Layla reaches for the phone and finds the screen light up with Harry’s name on it.

“Your boyfriend’s calling.”

“My boyfriend?!” 

Y/N immediately gets up on her knees on the bed and yanks the phone away from Layla’s hand to answer it herself. Just before she can say hello, Harry’s already the first to speak.

“Y/N, are you home yet? I tried to call you but you had your phone turned off!”

“Baby! Baby! I just drank a lot of wine! A whole lot! Now I’m feeling great!!!” she happily tells him, sitting down with her legs crossed and her free hand holding one foot. 

“Jesus you sound hella drunk. Are you home yet?”

“Yessssssss! Ethan drove me home!”

“Who’s Ethan?”

Layla almost chokes on air and she immediately grabs the phone away from Y/N before the drunk girl says something stupid that’d make Harry explode.

“It’s fine, I came home with her,” she assures Harry, receiving a pout from Y/N whose conversation with her boyfriend was rudely interrupted.

“Layla? You two are at our flat right?”

“Yes, we’re safe, calm your tits Styles.” Layla giggles, yet Harry doesn’t sound like he’s more at ease.

“Who the fuck is Ethan?”

“Oh he’s just Y/N’s new friend.”

“Why hasn’t anyone told me about this new friend?”

“Give me back my Harry!” Y/N attempts to take the phone, so Layla pushes her back down on the bed and stands up to continue the conversation.

“Don’t worry, he’s just a friend. He actually saved your girl a few nights ago.”

“Again, what the fuck?!”

“She was walking home alone and some guy followed her but Ethan showed up just in time. He took her home.” Layla grins. The truth is she finds jealous Harry quite entertaining. If Y/N wasn’t drunk she would’ve stopped her from doing this. However, since Y/N is drunk, Layla cannot pass this opportunity.

“Okay, so my girlfriend was in danger and nobody wanted to tell me?”

“If we’d told you, you would’ve bought a fucking plane ticket and showed up here the next morning. Relax, he’s a nice guy.” Layla almost mentions him flirting with Y/N but then she thinks again and decides not to. Harry would probably fly all the way back just to murder that poor guy.

“I trust Y/N but I don’t trust him. Do you know how easy it is for people to like Y/N once they’ve got to know her?”

“I’m starting to,” says Layla as she gives Y/N a smile and receives one back in return though Y/N has no idea what’s going on.

“Did you get my happy birthday text though?”

“Yes, it’s nice. Thank you.”

There’s a long pause on Harry’s side before he asks Layla another question, “Is there anything you want to tell me?”

“Like, why I’m being nice to Y/N?”

“No. I mean...sure, I want to know the reason for that, but I feel like what you actually want to tell me has nothing to do with Y/N.”

“Nope. I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Layla sticks out her bottom lip and shrugs as she denies to tell the truth. However, for a second there, she did consider.

“I hope you’re okay.”

Layla stays quiet. She doesn’t want to ask what he means by saying that, at the same time, Harry doesn’t push her to give him a confirmation.

“Could you put me back on the phone with Y/N?” he asks, and Layla does as she’s told, telling Y/N she’ll be right back then leaves the room.

“Baby, ya there?”

“I’m here!” 

Harry sighs happily when he hears his girlfriend’s voice again. 

“Harry come home, I miss you.”

“If I could right now, you know I would. How are you love?”

“Uhm...a bit dizzy...I threw up on the way back. Ethan and Layla helped me from falling down the stairs!”

Ugh fucking Ethan, Harry thinks to himself, but he keeps his calm while speaking to her.

“Baby, does Ethan know about me?”

“Yes, he was flirting with me and—” 

“He was what now?”

“Don’t you worry, I told him I’d got a boyfriend!” Y/N giggles and Harry feels a bit relieved.

“I didn’t tell him you weren’t in London though, he figured it out by himself! He said if I had a boyfriend and still had to walk home alone, my boyfriend were either and asshole or not living near me, and he didn’t think I would’ve dated an asshole so he assumed it was the later!”

Harry sighs, clearly not okay with the thought of another guy looking after his girlfriend because he could not. Moreover, he’s angry, not at Y/N, not at Ethan (well maybe yes at Ethan, for flirting with his girl), but (mostly) at himself for not being there for her. 

“Y/N, are you still there?”

“I’m hereeee!”

“Baby, next time you can’t walk home alone at night, okay? It’s not safe. If you have to, just call Niall or any of my friends to come with you.” Definitely not Ethan for sure. “Just don’t put yourself in danger, I’ll be very worried.”

“Yes sir!”

“Good girl, now I’m going to hang up so you can sleep, yeah?”

“Okaaaaaay...do you love me though?”

“I do,” he answers without pause. “More than anything.”

“I love you this much!” She swings her arms open wide to illustrate the amount of love she has for him. He can imagine her doing so from the other side of the world, and it makes him truly happy.

“I can’t see you but I guess it means you love me a lot?”

“I do love you a lot.” Y/N lays her head down on the pillow, shutting her eyes but the beam stays on her face when her thumb starts rubbing his promise ring. Even though she’s not in her clear mind, she’s still sane when it comes to him.

“Let’s get married someday,” she suggests out of the blue. It doesn’t matter to him if she really means it or it’s just the alcohol talking, just hearing her say that sends him over the fucking moon.

“Of course love, whenever you’d like,” he speaks in a heavy whispery tone which calms her and sends her closer to sleep. “Good night, angel.”

“Good night, baby,” she mumbles before ending the call. 

When Layla returns with a glass of water and some clothes for Y/N to change, she finds her friend already asleep in bed, the phone’s still in her hand.

Meanwhile, in Tokyo, Harry opens his text messages and sends a quick one to his best friend Niall after ending the call with Y/N.

Layla’s safe. She’s with Y/N.

It doesn’t take longer than one second for Niall to reply: Thanks mate x.

Harry sighs after reading that, then tosses his phone aside on the sofa. 

His girl is safe and sound now, but he's burning with anxiety, and it’d be a lie to say this has nothing to do with this new friend of hers named Ethan. Harry's aware that he’s jealous too often but he always has a good reason for it. His guts feelings are never wrong because he knows Y/N’s effects on people. It’s hard to not fall for someone like her if one gets to know her enough. Now it troubles him more knowing they stay friends after Ethan tried flirting with Y/N.

From Harry’s experience, if he approached a hot girl and she told him she was taken he would stay as far away as possible. You can’t just stop being physically attracted to someone just right after you find out they’re not single. One way or another, sooner or later, Ethan is going to make a move. What Harry’s afraid of isn’t Y/N cheating on him, but her leaving him to be with someone she believes can treat her better. These thoughts (or the lack of sleep) make his head hurt.

“Harry?”

Harry turns his head to his bedroom door and sees Hana standing there in his t-shirt which is too big for her delicate frame so it looks like a dress.

“Sleep well?” he asks, yet she ignores his concern.

“Did we—”

“No!” Harry shakes his head quickly. “You showed me around the city then we went to this pub and you got super drunk so I took you back. We couldn’t find your key that’s why I let you stay here.”

“Did you change my clothes?”

“No. I gave you my shirt and then left so you could do it yourself, don’t worry.”

“Okay…” Hana sighs while putting one hand on the top of her head. “And did I overshare anything when I was drunk?”

“Nope, or you did spill all of your secrets but since you were shouting at me in Japanese, I didn’t understand.”

What he said makes Hana giggle and he ends up laughing as well.

“But do you want to talk about why you were crying?”

“No,” Hana answers quickly then turns away to leave. Harry doesn’t try to stop her and beg for the truth because he respects her not wanting to share it with him. However, something makes the girl come back to the door.

“Oh Harry?”

“Hmm?” 

“Thank you for not leaving me alone last night.”

“Oh…” His mouth forms a circle and he’s frozen for a second or two when she sends him a soft smile. “Okay…No problem.”

...

Y/N wakes up the next morning with a terrible headache. Her memory after finishing half a bottle last night is now very blurry. However, she still remembers getting into Ethan’s car with Layla then Layla helping her into bed and part of her phone call with Harry. If her brain isn’t wrong she might have told him about Ethan, she thinks. It’s just she cannot remember his reaction.

It takes Y/N a couple seconds later to realize she’s not alone in bed. Layla’s still asleep next to her. Just like Y/N, the poor girl is still in her party dress from last night, apparently too exhausted to even get changed before dozing off.

Y/N grabs her phone to check the time and happens to see a new message from Harry.

Good morning love! Call me when you wake up! Drink lots of water and don’t skip breakfast! I love you :)

She smiles and hurriedly types down a reply.

Got it :) Love you, hope you’ve had a great day! Can’t wait to tell you about my crazy night with Layla!

She means to put her phone away after pressing ‘send’, but then comes another text, it’s just not from Harry. This time it’s Ethan’s.

Good morning! Does it feel nice to finally get off the shelf? ;)

The message makes Y/N snort. She turns to look at Layla, who’s mumbling in her sleep something that makes no sense at all. Well, Y/N thinks while grinning to herself. Maybe someone does like her story after all.

[baekhyuns-abs]

His human, his protector [1] >REPOST<

Reposting because it was wrongly flagged by the new shitty tumblr and I wasn’t allowed to appeal it for reasons unknown. 

Prologue Masterlist

Mentions of death

She clutched her belly as tears threatened to spill. Her other hand flew over her mouth and she closed the body drawer. She swallowed a sob and told herself repeatedly to calm herself; you could be caught. Subjects 00, 07 and 68 had been ‘terminated’. She refused to believe what she heard in passing that three of the unfortunate souls had been put down. She had sped down to the mortuary at the first bell for her break.

They’re too valuable to kill.

She felt horror in the pit of her stomach pulling out the drawer of subject 00 his tall body crammed in the small space. He was a beautiful creature that deserved better. She hadn’t been let into his cell before, they had male nurses and doctors only for him, he was prone to violence.

She then stared at subject 07, she had taken his blood samples on numerous occasions and he never failed to smile sweetly at her as she always struggled with her morals. How could he smile with the things he suffered? He was well behaved, she struggled to see why he lay in front of her, frozen and lifeless.

She hated this job.

68 had been the most volatile of the three. He was fast, agile and the most emotionally thawed. He’d lash out whenever he could at the workers who got too close. He’d take every chance he could get whenever a nurse or doctor would let his restraints loose; he’d run. However, she failed to see why he needed to die, why any of them did.

“Can I help you?”

She tensed and she swallowed, her throat closing up in apprehension. She turned around, hoping her eyes didn’t betray her emotional state.

“One of the doctors has already come to sign off their medical forms.” The somewhat clueless morturer was a small balding man and he looked anything but menacing.

She still didn’t relax. She thought quickly. “Oh really?” She forced herself to smile with a scoff. “The communication in this place is unbelievable.”

She scurried past him, avoiding his stare. “Sorry for disrupting your work.” She called over her shoulder.

~~~

She made it to the junior nurse’s lunch room, her heart still in her chest. She walked to the back, towards the lockers to get her sandwich from her bag.

“Excuse me nurse, may I have a word?”

She almost dropped her sandwich in fright at the sudden voice behind her. She whirled around quickly and met the face of a well suited man. He was a young caucasian male with kind eyes, his brown hair neatly swept atop of his head. Fear gripped her - he wasn’t a doctor, what did he want.

Was she in trouble?

“Y-yes, absolutely!” She gushed, her voice breaking and she wanted to hit herself.

The visit to the morgue had left her a nervous wreck and she was an open book to anyone - friend or foe. He smiled and it nothing but nice as he motioned for her to follow him but she dared not let her guard slip. She clutched her sandwich dumbly as the man in the suit lead her out of the busy lunch room. Her blood was roaring through her ears as her imagination played horrific scenarios to her.

She thought back to a few weeks prior, how she pulled the fire alarm in a moment of desperation and mercy on subject 99. She remembered the look in his eyes, the look of confusion and fear as she let her guard down in his cell. The feel of his erection against her body - she decided that was a side effect of the drugs that must have been pumping through his veins. She was kind and she didn’t want to inflict pain and suffering on any of them.

Was he going to punish her for that? Was he going to dismiss her? Would he throw her in her own cell to be tortured and experimented on?

Oh fuck.

They came to a row of unoccupied conference rooms and offices and he let out a light hearted chuckle. “Spoiled for choice.”

He flicked her an amused look and she let out an uncomfortable laugh. She never had been in this part of the facility, she was a low ranking nurse, they didn’t involve her in any meetings of importance.

“This will do.” He opened one of the doors and stepped through, turning to her with a obligatory smile as he motioned her inside.

“Sit.”

She did.

She waited, her fingers clenched together in anxiety of what was about to unfold. He sat opposite her and he placed a large planner in front of her. He opened it and sifted through some sheets of paper. Looking at him then, she realised he sported a visitor’s tag on his lapel. He didn’t work for Nova Sciences, he was from the outside, where was his guide?

She read his name Dr Richard Francis.

“This is a confidential meeting.” He began, not looking up from his planner. “No one in your company will know.”

She didn’t know if that made her feel better or worse. “You can eat your lunch, I don’t mind.”

She kept her sandwich on the table untouched as she waited for him to say more.

“I’m a doctor for an independent non profit organisation called Revive.” He continued, his voice strong. “And I think you’d benefit by working for me.”

She blinked at him, her brows furrowing at the bold statement from a stranger. “Excuse me?”

Richard’s smile wavered. “I have read through your file, your background and your incident with subject 99.” She noticed how he seemed uncomfortable addressing him with his identity number. “I watched the security footage and you sparked my interest so I got my hands on more footage of you with the patients.”

Patients. She didn’t miss that, was it a slip of the tongue; referring to them as something more humane than subjects? She didn’t disagree with the notion but she felt shock settle in her stomach - it was the first time she had heard of it. Yet it made her feel more at ease.

She made a face which made him hold up his hands in defense. “I know how that must sound.” He laughed, nervous. “You’re nice to them, I noticed.”

The smile that had snuck onto her face slowly diminished, maybe she was wrong, maybe she was about to be punished.

“You have empathy.” His tone lowered, becoming serious. “And that’s rare.”

She sighed, gathering her thoughts trying to seem nonchalant. “Why are we having this conversation?” She looked up to the clock. “My break ends in 10 minutes.”

“I want you to work for me.” He pressed on. “Work for the company I work for - undercover.”

Undercover. She felt uneasy at the word. She didn’t know if she could handle more secrets and lies.

“Experiments like what Nova are doing here is global, hundreds of men and women are being tortured, their DNA altered gaining supernatural abilities some are even being mixed with other mammals creating a whole new DNA structure.”

  “Some die before results are made, some are killed.” He leaned forward on his chair. “Revive want to free survivors, bringing them into the world like they deserve but we can’t do that without inside help from the facilities we aim to bring down.”

She pieced together his words trying to make sense of it all. Her heart budded with hope, hope for her, hope for 99 who she saved. She longed to save him properly, she wished she could save them all. But it was impossible. What could she do? She stared at him, reeling in her heart who tried to run away with the idea of his heroic sounding plans.

“Is this a test, Mr Francis?” She asked, her breathing was rapid.

She knew she had failed if it was, she knew she had given away her position with the glint in her eyes.

“I promise you, it’s not a test.” He pulled out a small card from a slot in his planner. “It’s an expression of interest.”

“Here’s my business card.” He handed it to her. “We need informants and we want you on our team.”

She took the card gingerly, staring at it with a curious expression. On it was his name, his doctorate and his contact details on the back - no company name.

She paused, the room falling silent. She knew he was waiting for her response. It was as if the gods had answered her blind prayers, her opportunity to help and free the patients, it could happen. She longed to grab onto this opportunity with both hands, she knew she ought to, but she had learnt one valuable thing at her time with Nova, deception was everyone’s second nature.

“How many informants?” She asked.

“I can’t give out that information for safety reasons.”

“And if I went running my mouth about this conversation about your supposed company?” She wouldn’t, even if it was a pack of lies.

“You won’t.”

She raised her eyebrows. “You seem so sure.”

“We’ve been monitoring you for months to know you well enough you won’t”

She bit her lip. “I’m a nurse here, Francis but if I worked for you I’d only be an informant.”

He shook his head. “I understand that. Once we have freed the patients in this facility all informants will be able to continue their work but with us in the rehabilitation of the patients.

“We want to give them lives, help them discover their humanity for the first time. Some of them have been in here since they were children, never experiencing even the little things we take for granted.

“You’re a junior nurse, you have yet to be exposed to more of the awful happenings in those cells.” He said. “But we need more, we need more to get rid of this bastardisation of a scientific government experiment.”

She was stunned into silence. Richard Francis’ voice became more poignant and his expression became riddled with anger. She became increasingly torn, she couldn’t deny the rawness of the display of emotions in front of her; no actor could be that good.

She sat in silence, every one of his words sinking in. She thought of subject 99, the bruises on his body, the heartbreaking defeat on his face as his resolve slipped from his fingers as he waited to die. She wondered of that’s how they all went, a gun to their head. How could she be so foolish? Believing them all when they swore they were all too important to science to die. There was a reason for the morgue in the building, there had to be more than three to die to facilitate such a department.

She decided then; determined to bring Nova down. If he was a liar, if she was stripped of her integrity, tortured or killed trying to rescue the patients she knew it was for a good cause. She didn’t want to be the nurse who meekly followed immoral orders out of fear.

She wanted to be the one who tried - even if it costed her her life.

[ink-flavored]

11/11/11 Game (Triple Threat)

Tagged by @multimousenette​ and @bogbodybitch​ and @nectareouswrites​! Thanks!

I’ll put my questions at the top here so you don’t have to scroll through 33 questions lmao

Questions

Do you like to cook or do you prefer going out?

How meticulous do you like to get in your world building?

How do you relax when you’re stressed?

Do you have a creative hobby outside of writing? What is it?

Luck or chance?

Is there something that you’ve decided to keep in your WIP(s) even after someone told you to get rid of it? 

What’s your battle music?

What are you most proud of yourself for?

What’s your favorite dinosaur?

What would you grow on a farm?

Blood family or found family? 

Tagging: @royalbounties @rainy-rose @aesopsrachaels @purpleshadows1989 @frankensteinn @shadeshadow234 @startroubled @farrradays and anyone else who wants to!

Alright. Now comes the doozy.

1.      What’s your preferred writing and reading genre?

Fantasy for both, though I like to read a lot of different genres

2.      What’s your favorite thing about your least favorite character?

Least favorite is tough. The character I’ve been having the hardest time writing recently is General Zhai from The God-Dragon’s Wife, mainly because I haven’t solidified her motivations yet, but if there’s one thing I know about her, it’s that she takes no shit. Which is very difficult for me, because she isn’t taking my shit either.

3.      What’s your least favorite thing about your favorite character?

Again with the favorites! Teconia is fun to write, but I feel bad about making bad things happen to her and making her sad. She gets sad a lot and then I feel guilty. Stop doing that.

4.      Which of your characters do you feel most indifferent towards? Why?

Right now, it’s Park. I don’t think we’d be friends if he was a real person (robot?) because our values are so misaligned, but he’s not a bad guy.

5.      Which of your projects means the most to you and why?

Firesoul, no doubt. It’s been an idea I’ve had since I first started writing, and the fact that I’ve been continuing to write it after all these years is a huge deal for me (i.e. a person who comes up with ideas and then abandons them forever)

6.      Is there a theme that can be found in all of your projects? Was it intentional or dd you realize after the event?

Usually there’s a theme of overcoming – whether that’s overcoming self, overcoming oppression, or overcoming adversity. I don’t do it intentionally, but I think it’s definitely informed by experiences in my life, so it would feel odd to not have it.

7.      What’s your favorite book to read? Does it have any similarities to your any of your writing projects?

The Inheritance Cycle is my favorite book series of all time and it absolutely informs my writing style. I’ve read the first book, Eragon, eight times, and seven of those times was before I turned 16. I’d be shocked if it didn’t.

8.      What have you learnt while writing that you hope everyone knows?

That I can write whatever I want, and someone will like it, even if it’s not the someone I thought would like it.

9.      What’s your biggest strength in writing?

Description, for sure.

10.  What about your weakness?

Too much description.

Seriously, though, it’s plot structure. I suck at that, and I’m awful at outlines.

11.  How many questions do you answer on character profile sheets when creating new characters?

I try to shoot for all of the ones that apply! But I don’t do a lot of character sheets so…

12.  What do you love most about your writing?

I love my worlds and settings. I pour blood, sweat, and tears into them, and I think it really pays off.

13.  What’s your favorite type of character to write?

Smart dumbasses, people who Can’t Handle Feelings, and people who Have Too Much Feelings. I have no middle ground.

14.  What inspires you to write?

Life. That’s probably the most cliché answer on the planet, but I’m very informed by the things I believe and the experiences I have. Even my horror pieces (short as they are) come from places of feeling helpless in my own life, struggling with an undiagnosed anxiety and panic disorder for most of my life.

15.  If you could talk to your protagonist, what advice would you give them?

I would gently hold Park’s metal robot face in my hands and tell him to Stop Taking All Responsibility For Everything. Good God. It’s not all about you, all the time.

I would tell Xinya that it’s okay to feel emotions sometimes. Yes, even that one.

I would tell Teconia that trusting people isn’t always a good thing.

I would tell Hayden that he is capable, no matter what he tells himself.

16.  If you had to do an escape room with one of your characters, who would you choose and why?

Park is a robot and therefore would be very logical about all possible solutions. This could either be a great thing or a terrible thing, but I’ll take my chances with the guy with a computer for a brain.

17.  How did you come up with the plot for your current wip(s)?

The God-Dragon’s Wife is inspired by a (perhaps not astoundingly written) fanfiction I read and said “Psh. I can do that.” That, and my deep held desire to marry a dragon.

Firesoul came to me at an audition for a role in my dance company’s annual Christmas show. I heard this epic, haunting music, and had a vision, essentially, of a scene from the book. Teconia herself is literally a D&D character that I liked so much I gave her a book.

Out of the Park is inspired from way back when I used to regularly play Overwatch, and my main, Zenyatta, had a skin release that was a baseball team. The rest is history/

Dragon Raising actually started as a novel that I never did anything with, because something always felt off about the delivery. When I took a comic writing class in college, everything clicked at once.

18.  What’s one line/paragraph you’ve written recently that you’re proud of?

This is from a submission for a prompt month in a fandom I’m in:

Yugi didn’t believe in ghosts. It was fun to think about, sure, but he’d never seen any “real” evidence to support the idea. His friend Ryou claimed otherwise, but they’d long since learned to agree to disagree on the subject. Of course, they were both partial to a good scare – his second favorite genre for anything was horror – and they could talk about the coolest ghost stories they’d heard for hours. Still, he had never latched on to the idea of the “soul persisting after death.” It was ridiculous, for a lot of reasons. The idea of a ghost in his house – in anyone’s house – was almost laughable.

But he didn’t have a lot of other ideas to explain this.

19.  Do you ever draw concept art for your writing?

I can’t draw, but if someone made me art of my WIPs, I would die LITERALLY for them.

20.  What do you like most about one of your protagonists and what do you like least about them?

Xinya is a powerful woman. She’s capable and smart and will kick your ass in chess. But she’s so emotionally constipated it’s actually painful for me.

Teconia is kind, strong even if she doesn’t know it yet, and loyal to her friends and family. But she refuses to use her strength until it’s too late, which is frustrating for a lot of reasons.

Park is a dumbass. This is both the reason I love and hate him.

Hayden can do remarkable things, but he never gives himself credit for them.

21.  What’s the setting of your current wip(s) and why did you choose it?

TGDW takes place in a fantasy Imperial China, which I chose because I am so sick of Fantasy Medieval Europe #4564

Firesoul takes place in Fantasy Medieval Europe #a billion, but I’m not romanticizing it. Teconia is the poorest of the poor, a racial minority, and has to keep her mage identity a secret to avoid persecution. You see exactly what that’s like in Ethallia for the average citizen, and it’s not pretty, unlike most fantasy settings where Everyone Is Good Except Our Evil King, Who Is Evil For Vague Magic Reasons.

OOTP is my personal idealized Future America, which means there is So Much Socialism. Everywhere.

Dragon Raising takes place in modern day Chicago, which I chose because wouldn’t it be hilarious if someone had to raise dragons in the middle of Chicago?

22.  What are some of your strengths that make you a good writer?

I pride myself on my description and world building, as I’m sure people have picked up by now, but I’ve also been told I’m good at writing character interactions. I’ll take it!

23.  Do you listen to music/have playlists to get you writing?

I’m one of those people who can’t write without music to block out the sounds of the real world. I don’t have any specific playlists for writing – I usually just shuffle my whole library.

24.  Who is the character that is least like you and why?

Personality wise, it’s between Park and Yu-Qi who are the least like me.

Park thinks he has to be the one to change the world – him and him alone – which is just. Come on man. Dismount from your high horse.

Yu-Qi is closer to being the opposite of me because of our similarities, ironically enough. She’s obsessive, possessive, and in a true dragon fashion, she hoards and hoards and hoards. These are qualities I share, but desperately afraid of.

25.  What is the maximum word count you are hoping for your project(s)?

Oh, this is a good question. I’ve never sat down and thought it out specifically, but I think a good novel length is 80k-200k words, so I’ll shoot for that!

26.  Do you write better in the day time or at night?

Night owl. I blame it on being born at 1:30am

27.  What are your OC(s) zodiac signs?

Well, considering only two of them exist in our star system, I’ll just guess!

Xinya: Virgo

Teconia: Pisces

Park: Scorpio

Hayden: Libra

28.  Where do you fall on the beige to purple prose spectrum?

My prose is indigo, man. I am so close to purple it’s unreal.

29.  Are you well read in the genre you hope to go into?

Absolutely! I’ve been reading fantasy since I was in first grade.

30.  What are your goals for your writing career?

I want to open people’s minds and make them think about stuff that they might not have otherwise thought about. And entertain them, of course.

31.  How comfortable are you with critical feedback?

PLEASE give me critical feedback, I’m begging you. My life has been plagued by minimal to no feedback on my writing and it’s so frustrating.

32.  Do you enjoy reading or writing romance?

Reading it: depends. Writing it: yes, but I’ve only just gotten into it!  

33.  Do you annotate your books?

Depends on the book. If I’ve read it enough times to quote direct lines, then yes. I’ll never annotate a new book.