#writing trash instead of more important things

[luna-azzurra]

How to Write a Sick Character

╰ First of all — being sick is boring as hell

Nobody tells you that. You think it’s gonna be poetic and tragic and emotionally moving, maybe a few tears on the windowpane and a soft piano soundtrack? Wrong. It’s pacing in a waiting room for two hours to be told to come back next week. It’s reruns of trash TV because your brain fog is so bad you can't even process a podcast. It's Googling "why do my bones hate me" at 3 a.m. and finding nothing helpful, only vibes. So if you're writing a sick character and every scene is Deep and Heavy and Symbolic, I love you but no. Let them be bored. Let them be over it. Let them fall asleep halfway through someone’s big speech.

╰ Second — sickness is basically a toxic relationship with your own body

And wow, the drama is unmatched. One day your character wakes up and thinks, “Maybe today will be normal.” Their body: “Plot twist, bitch.” Now they’re sweating through a hoodie, canceling plans, and pretending they're “just tired” because explaining the truth is somehow more exhausting than the illness itself. Let your character hate their body sometimes. Let them feel betrayed by it. Let them mourn the version of themselves that used to just do things without needing a three-day nap after. But also—let them fight for their body, too. Advocate. Adapt. Try again. Because it’s not all despair. Sometimes it’s really freaking brave just to get out of bed and put on pants.

╰ Third — it’s not cute

Hollywood loves to write illness like it’s an aesthetic. Clean blankets, sad smiles, a gentle cough. Yeah… no. Sometimes it’s vomit in your hair. It’s medical tape pulling off skin. It’s being too tired to shower but still scrolling through memes like your life depends on it. Give us the gross stuff. The embarrassing stuff. The human stuff.

╰ Fourth — let them be funny

Sick people are hilarious. Mostly because we have to be. You’ve got two choices when your body is a disaster zone: laugh, or fully unravel. So we joke about our failing organs. We flirt with the nurse while on IV fluids. We name our medical devices. We send memes from the ER. Let your character joke. Let them be sharp, sarcastic, absurd. Not because they're “taking it well,” but because that’s their armor. Humor is one of the most honest forms of pain. Use it.

╰ Fifth — sick ≠ broken

Please hear this: your character is not less than. They are not just here to suffer and die and inspire others with their angelic perseverance. They’re a person. Maybe a chaos goblin. Maybe a genius. Maybe a mess. Maybe a lover, a fighter, a giant emotional raccoon with a heating pad. Let them live and have goals. Let them chase things. Let them screw up. Let them be loved and desired and complicated. Their illness is part of them, not all of them.

╰ Lastly — don’t wrap it up too clean

Recovery isn’t linear. Some illnesses don’t “end.” And that’s okay. You don’t need a miracle cure in the third act. Sometimes strength is just learning to exist in a different way. Sometimes it’s re-learning how to hope. Sometimes it’s finding a new rhythm instead of forcing the old one to work. Let your character find peace, not perfection. So yeah—if you’re writing a sick character, you’re doing something important. You’re making space for people whose stories rarely get told with truth and teeth and tenderness. Just promise me you won’t turn them into a symbol. Let them be a person. A funny, scared, strong, exhausted, hopeful person. Like the rest of us.

@katrein05 I Hope This Helps a little... :)

[soulstutters]

hi there!

woohoo I was wondering if you could write something with Okarun, maybe with a sunshine but quiet Reader? Like a caring and sweet reader who takes care of everyone including him...

Have a great day!

Candy Crush

pairing: Okarun x gn!Reader

a/n: i had to start completely over to get this to something i liked and i still dk if it's good enough blehhhhh. i had fun with it though, thanks for requesting!! i don't think i did a good job with the taking care of everyone thing :(

It was a beautiful day and Okarun could feel it all over. It was like the sun was beaming down on him and the wind was guiding him as he biked the way to the Ayase residence. He was headed to meet up with his friends for a nice lunch. He slowed down for just a moment to shove his right hand in his jacket pocket, making sure his treasures were still inside. Momo had teased him and called it all trash the other day, but you know the saying. Okarun knew these candy wrappers were deserving of far more than a landfill. There was nothing special about the wrappers themselves, crumpled and empty of their sweets. The only thing worth noting about the pile was that each and every one of them was yellow, whether they boasted the taste of tangy pineapple or creamy banana. A little more important than their color to Okarun was the person they were from. 

You. 

You were new to their little cryptid crew, and you were a great addition. You smiled and hung out with them and helped with every supernatural situation. And the candy. The candy was Okarun’s favorite part. Every time you saw him you’d pull out a handful of pieces, and every time Okarun received them with as much joy as the last time. They were gifts that came with mementos he could keep with him to remember your time together. But with all the time you did spend with him and the others, Okarun was a bit confused.

Don’t get him wrong, he was glad you hung around - he just wasn’t sure why. Okarun didn’t like to make assumptions, but their group didn’t really seem like your type. They all had such big personalities; confrontational Momo, delusional Aira, and…Jiji. Okarun could even admit that he himself tended to be a bit high-strung. You, on the other hand, were on the more quiet side. Instead of joining in, you mostly just laughed at their antics. 

Okarun never got the feeling you were uncomfortable. He just really, really didn’t want you to be. He liked having you around, and he was just starting to realize his feelings went beyond what he felt for the others. The next step for him was figuring out how to tell you how he felt. 

Okarun had this goal in mind as he slowed his bike to a stop as he reached the Ayase household. He wrapped his hands around your gifts to him inside his pocket for good luck. He then removed his hand and placed it around his glasses frame with a resolute expression. Like a man, Okarun thought to himself as he pushed his shoulders back and began the march to the front door.

His march and his bravery lasted right up until he reached the doorstep. Okarun withered slightly as he thought about what he’d say to you. He extended his arm out towards the door, but was startled when it suddenly opened. Before he could process anything, Momo, Aira, and Jiji came barreling out the passageway. He narrowly caught a rushed statement that Seiko was out doing errands as his three friends bolted past him. Okarun was just able to latch on to Momo’s hand, holding her back from escaping the property. 

“Miss Ayase! What’s going on? Is something wrong? Is Y/N okay?” Okarun bombarded Momo with questions, his concern growing as he noticed your absence. At his last inquiry, a smirk that should have been scary grew across Momo’s face. 

“No! They’re not okay!” Momo snickered as Okarun’s face burst into a panic. “They’re in danger,” she emphasized, placing her hands on Okarun’s shoulders.

“What happened? Where are they?” Okarun began firing off questions again. He looked over to Aira and Jiji who were peeking out from behind the torii to watch him. He balled up his fists and strode firmly towards them, ready to save you from whatever danger you had found yourself in. Before he could get very far, though, Momo yanked him backwards by his collar.

“Okarun! You have to listen so I can tell you what’s going on with them,” Momo stared him down seriously. Okarun nodded vigorously, ready to do whatever he could to help. “Y/N is in danger…of being alone.”

“What.” Okarun’s entire body slackened in confusion, his palms opening, head tilting, and spine slumping. 

“Be serious,” Momo demanded. “There is a whole gourmet meal in there, with dessert. They are in there, by themselves, and it would be an act of evil to have them eat alone.”

“Oh. Okay? Let’s go in and eat then. You guys were going to look for me?” Okarun blinked away the alarm in his eyes. He was a little confused, but Momo was usually like this. 

“No, Okarun,” Momo hung her head and shook it solemnly. She raised her head quickly, startling her friend. “Only you can do this!”

With that, she shoved Okarun through her front door and slid it closed behind him. He stood there for a moment, dumbfounded at what just happened. Through the door, he could hear Momo, Aira, and Jiji chittering as they darted off to who knows where. 

That was how Okarun ended up here, across from you, at the food-filled table. Momo wasn’t lying about that part, at least. She really hadn’t been lying about anything. There was food and you were alone. His presence hadn’t really changed anything, though. Neither of you were eating or talking. The not talking wasn’t strange for you, but Okarun was worried he was making you uncomfortable with his own silence.

Okarun fiddled with an old candy wrapper in his lap, trying to figure out what to say to you. He was starting to think that maybe Momo was right - maybe keeping these pieces of paper was stupid. But as he looked down at the wrapper screaming Pineapple Punch at him, he couldn’t help but feel like they meant something. And he wanted to tell you. 

He wanted to tell you how he had never really cared for the color yellow, or even any of its flavors. He wanted to tell you how you changed that. Yellow changed from the color of caution to a hopeful hue. Yellow became your color; bright and warm and happy and beautiful. It was as attention grabbing as before, except now you had all of his. Even as he continued twirling the candy wrapper between his fingers, Okarun was glancing up at you. One of his stares met with yours and his eyes widened as he noticed you had something to say.

“Do you want another one? I have more and I know you like the yellow ones,” you smiled at him. Okarun froze as he realized he’d listed his wrapper up into your view by accident. If only you knew how much he likes the yellow ones. He simply nodded at you and held out his hands when you gestured for him to. What happened next sent Okarun into a fit of laughter.

You had revealed a plentiful pile of candies, all yellow, from your pockets and dumped them into his waiting hands. A few of the treats plopped onto the table due to not being able to fit in his palms. Okarun curled his hands up around the candy, even more falling out, and giggled. He chuckled and chortled at the sheer amount of exclusively yellow candy you’d just given him. You did know how much he liked the yellow ones. Once he’d finished his giggle-fit, Okarun looked back up at you and grinned at your confused face.

Without saying a word, he pulled out the countless yellow candy wrappers from his pockets and spread them across the table. At this, your face broke out into a smile, too. Not wanting to miss his chance, Okarun spoke first.

“I’ve kept these,” he started, face hurting from smiling, “because they remind me of you.” 

“I keep these because they make me think of you,” you mirrored his sentiment. Okarun smiled - he had never stopped - and slid one of the unopened candies over to you. He watched you pick it up and unwrap it, popping it in your mouth. He followed your action, grabbing and eating one himself.

“What flavor did you get?” He leaned over the table to peek. You straightened out the wrapper and held it up to him.

“Lemony Love,” you gaze at him past the wrapper. “You?”

“Same.”

[firebunnylover]

My Thoughts on Orion trying to stop D-16 from the murdery stuff.

I think there’s been enough time to think over the writing choice of Orion trying to stop D-16 from killing Sentinel. Time to whack the hornet nest of internet opinions.

Now I think it’s fair to say that plenty of people have pointed out that the autobots do murder several other bots in the film and so Orion’s attempt to stop Dee from killing SP seems hypocritical. And I can certainly see why people are coming to that specific conclusion.

And plenty of us agree the death scene was cathartic.

HOWEVER.

Let’s look at Orion’s current perspective regarding Dee’s state of mind.

He has been watching his friend go down the path of unapologetic violence fast since they found out the truth. Like, alarmingly fast. And that path is quickly becoming more of a sheer drop off a cliff.

While OP, Elita and Bee were ecstatic about being able to transform, what do we see Dee laugh over?

Being able to inflict damage onto another bot.

And we can’t forget the oh-so-woobie-of-continuities Starscream, who Orion had to tell Dee not to kill when the murder canon was activated.

That isn’t the Dee Orion knew. Orion is watching Dee turn into something he doesn’t know anymore. He’s afraid of losing D-16 to whatever he’s becoming.

To Orion, keeping Dee from publicly executing Sentinel was an attempt to keep him from spiraling further.

Unfortunately, just having good intentions don’t always cut it. And he really could have said it in a better way.

But to be fair, it had been a long miserable trip for the both of them, so Orion probably wasn't able to think that out 100%.

Another point I want to make is the comparison to B-127/Bee, who had been cutting bots with his knifehands. Granted, I’m pretty sure they were just intended to be Drones/Enforcers, as they resemble Vehicons. Which, in beast wars, were intended as bots who were mass produced and mindless. Which I think Sentinel would have preferred to have as his followers. Literal mindless/sparkless soldiers to follow his every word would probably be easier to handle.

This is Steve Slander I’m so sorry.

Continuing on.

There are a few points I want to make on B-127’s treatment of the violence. First, to me, Orion didn’t seem too comfortable with how hyped Bee was getting with his new weapons, and did intervene to keep him from cutting down more Drones.

And more importantly, he stopped trashing the broadcast room when told that the bots there weren’t the enemy.

Bee managed to do some self-control. Which I think is important to keep in mind when comparing him to Dee/Megatron

One more thing to note.

Something that I have said before in an earlier post after my initial viewing of the movie.

It wasn’t the violence itself that was the ultimate act of betrayal in the end though.

It was picking violence over saving someone.

oh it hurts

Orion jumped in the cannon’s way. Probably thinking that seeing him would give Dee enough reason to stop. But there wasn’t any pause until after the trigger was pulled. @everestentertainments pointed this out in their own post

D-16 does catch the injured Orion. He could have tried to save him, even if it was futile.

But he decided to let him fall instead.

Thus finally transforming into Megatron.

Killing Sentinel wasn’t the final step to the transformation and his fall from grace. It was the first act as purely Megatron.

And don’t forget that after taking the cog, Meg’s next act is to burn everything down, taking no regard for anyone who might get caught in the crossfire. Which is a yikes.

They probably could have made those points more obvious or could have been handled better somehow, but those are my thoughts.

[defututus]

a helping hand | Eddie Munson x migraine!reader

masterlist

an expansion on this post since I wanted to write an injection fic anyway

summary: Eddie has to help you with your medications and you just aren't interested in taking it

word count: 2k

content warnings: established relationship, needles, some cursing, a step by step explanation on how I take my migraine injections (minus the handsome boyfriend), angst/hurt to fluff/comfort

author's note: hi, we can all thank @munson-blurbs for me actually finishing a WIP because I was bored on the train ride to see the stranger things play and decided to get some actual writing done!

It’s a quiet evening in the apartment. Yogi is sitting with his tail wagging in front of a window that Eddie previously opened to let in some fresh air. The screen is the only thing keeping the lab from hopping out to explore and greet every person that walks by their ground-floor home. He doesn’t bark at those that pass his window, instead working as a silent observer and protector of his family. All Eddie hears is a quiet chuff coming from the other side of the apartment, nothing more. The sound of distant traffic leaks in from the window to create a peaceful atmosphere for Eddie as he finishes putting a few dishes away. The meal was light, mainly consisting of leftovers, so preparation was quick with minimal cleanup. Your post-dinner plans, however, were more exciting. They included some self-care, ice cream, and a movie to cuddle up and watch together. You decided to go a step further in your self-care and just began taking a nice, long everything shower. All the exfoliating and scented products left you feeling light and content. For Eddie, everything showers meant he could use the excuse of, "I need to see how soft your skin feels" for when he wants to get a little touchy with you. 

The metalhead let out a contented sigh as he set the last of the dishes on the dish rack to drip dry. With all the cleaning out of the way, Eddie raised his arms above his head to stretch and take in his surroundings. There was Yogi, still attentively looking outside in case someone threatened his property. Curiously, Eddie looked to the calendar hanging on the fridge for the dog’s next vet appointment. You tried to keep the monthly overviews as organized as possible by color coding everything and abbreviating certain events; HF for the weekly Hellfire meetings and any Corroded Coffin-related events got a music note in front of them and were written in red. Eddie did a quick scan of the calendar before his eyes landed on today’s date. There were your work hours and his at the top, but you’ve also got a sad face in the bottom right corner. Knowing you, you probably knew this was coming all week and pretended like it didn’t exist so you didn’t have to take care of it. Eddie, however, swore to your parents when you moved in together that he’d take care of you in the same way you swore to take care of him. He heard the shower running in the bathroom, meaning he still had some time before you were out and dressed. 

The first thing Eddie did was open up the fridge and fish out a box from one of the side shelves. He also grabbed himself a beer to help get him through this entire ordeal. It never gets easier. Closing the fridge, he cracked the beer open and took a swig before setting it down to focus on the contents of the box. He fetched the other materials he’d need -  Eddie opened it and pulled out the instructions that went right in the trash to get to the important part - a syringe.

Eddie was no stranger to helping you with your migraines. He was fully prepared to help you for the rest of your life if you’d let him, but he never thought helping you would include pressuring you into taking your medications. Your neurologist prescribed a new medication to you over a year ago, and it was working wonders, but unfortunately, this medication only came in the form of an injection. The process was easy at first thanks to the auto-injector packaging, but when you were forced to change your insurance, your medication also changed to a normal syringe. You were already nervous every time your injection day came around, but this new medication form made things impossible. The process was longer, and you swore it was more painful. It got to the point where you began putting off the medication entirely, causing your migraines to increase in frequency. The last few months were okay since Eddie would always give you a gentle reminder the day of, making promises like, "Once you do your injection, we can have some fun after… that sound good to you" or "How do you feel about some dessert after your medication?", always giving you some sort of incentive to get the injection over with. You two already have the movie planned for tonight, so it’ll have to act as motivation. 

You walk out of the bathroom wearing a fresh set of pajamas once Eddie has everything set up, feeling absolutely refreshed. The warmth from the shower is still radiating from you and feels great against the air conditioning running through the apartment. The fruity scent of your body scrub emanates from you, which only adds to your relaxed state. Your freshly showered and moisturized state, combined with a new pair of soft pajamas, has you feeling like the epitome of comfort, that is, until you see your boyfriend standing in the kitchen, waving a certain syringe in his hand and a cheeky smile on his handsome face. You lock eyes with him and freeze as you enter the living room before asking, “Is that tonight?”

He feels bad for even thinking this, but it’s a little cute how nervous you get every time you need to take your medication. Your boyfriend responds with a small nod and, “Yup, sure is”, popping the p in the affirmation. His calmness and smile only add to your nerves, which causes you to cautiously back away from him and back into the bedroom.

  Eddie lets you get a few steps in, silently putting the alcohol pad, cotton pad, and bandage in his pockets  before dashing across the small room and grabbing you by your waist. He loves to chase you around and would do it more often if you two had the room. The way that you squirm in his arms and whine, “I don’t wanna do it! I’ll do it tomorrow!” Eddie tuts into your ear as he tries to adjust his hold on you, but that moment of loosening his grip only grants you an opportunity to escape. You make a break for the bathroom connecting to your bedroom but only make it halfway before Eddie nearly tackles you to the floor. He’s straddling your hips with a firm grip on both wrists. You look down at where he’s straddling you and clock the growing bulge in his pants. Of course he’s enjoying this. 

“Cmon, sweetheart, it’s just one shot, and then we can relax.”

You whine again and shake your head furiously, saying, “I’ll do it tomorrow!”

You’re making this a lot harder than it needs to be - Eddie already struggles to help you do this with two hands, but one? He can’t help but sigh as he puts the syringe down next to his leg where you can’t move it away and begins assessing your arm. He’s feeling around the upper portion of it just like your mom, a former nurse, had taught him when he asked for advice. It takes him only a few seconds of pinching sections of your upper arm before he locates the right spot, not too low but not high enough to hit your shoulder. Quickly, his hand reaches into his pocket to grab the alcohol pad and rip it open like a condom. His silence only makes you more anxious. A small whimper and quiet, “Eddie please… tomorrow?” comes from you, but he’s determined to get it done now.

“My dear girl…” he says with a smirk, “you know we can't do that. Your doctor said it has to be at the same time every month. I hate this as much as you do-“

You interrupt him with a bitter, “I think you like it.”

Eddie continues, “- okay, I might like it a little, but I still hate causing you pain. But I don’t like seeing you in unnecessary pain, so this has to be done. Just one poke and then we’re done.” He rubs the upper area of your arm that he found before with the alcohol pad to remove all the oils and tosses it to the side. Once that’s done, he takes the cap of the syringe in his teeth and rips that off. You distract yourself by staring at his arms rather than the large needle about to go into one of your own. He mutters, “okay, breathe. One… two…”

Before he hits three, he pushes the needle into your arm, which makes you recoil. The sight of your boyfriend's tattooed biceps is no longer enough to distract you from the pain, so you shut your eyes altogether. Eddie watches the clear liquid slowly disappear from the vial, choosing to concentrate on that and not how all he can hear is you muttering, “ow. ow. ow. ow”. 

It feels like time moves more slowly when doing these injections. His heart breaks to see you in pain and even more when he has to be the one causing it, even if it is going to help you in the long run. Once the vial is empty, he slowly removes the needle from your arm as well as removing his hold of your other arm. He takes the cap and covers the now-used needle before putting the syringe down. You’re still silent as he takes the last two items out of his pocket, a cotton pad and a crayola bandaid. You bought them saying it would make your injections more fun, but you and Eddie both knew that would never be true. This time, you got green. 

He dabs the spot with the cotton pad to clean up any excess medication and then covers the spot with the bandaid as it begins to bleed. 

“OK, sweetheart, all done. We don’t have to do this again for another month.” He lifts himself up off your lap and holds out his hands to assist you, which you immediately take. Once you’re standing, Eddie leans in to peck your pouting lips. You reciprocate this kiss, albeit barely. You’re also glaring at him, and Eddie finds it adorable. 

He stifles a laugh and says, “Aw, c’mon, baby, I’m sorry,” while reaching up to affectionately rub at the arm he didn’t stab with a needle just moments ago. 

You continue keeping up the angry charade when you look up at him through your lashes and ask, “Will you take the shot for me next month?”

Eddie shakes his head as he turns to lead you into the living room. There are blankets sitting on the couch waiting to be used, and he already has a big bowl out ready to be filled with popcorn. As he walks the two of you over to the couch, he says, “Aw, honey… no. No, I will not. But I’ll always help you with it. Remember, I’m here for you in both sickness and in health, right?”

Your boyfriend’s last statement stops you in your tracks right in front of the couch. All traces of fake anger towards him are gone. Instead, he looks at you as he turns to sit and sees a confused face staring right back at him. You ask him, “Did you smoke too much today? Last time I checked, we weren’t married.”

Eddie leans back to recline on the couch and looks at you, smiling. He shrugs at the question, as if why are you quoting wedding vows at me when we aren’t even married is a normal question to be asked by your long-term partner and can be answered with just a shrug. When you motion for him to answer, Eddie continues to smile and says, “I mean… we already act married and we’re planning on it, right?”

You nod. 

“Sooo, I’ve already agreed to the sickness and health part of those vows. I agreed to it when we moved in and you needed help, and I’ll agree to it again when you’re standing with me down the aisle. It’s as simple as that.” Eddie doesn’t elaborate any further and pats the spot next to him on the couch. Changing the topic, he says, “So, what are we watching tonight, gorgeous?”

This conversation sounds like it’s over for now, but you’ll still try to get answers out of him afterwards. You resign for now and focus on the new task at hand. 

“Wanna watch some stupid reality TV?”

“Oh, sweetheart, I thought you’d never ask.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------taglist:

@ainelantv @munson-blurbs @corroded-hellfire @londonfog-chan

[indigo-flowers09]

i FINALLY figured out Gradients colors jesus 😭😭

i love them so much oml i’m ranting about them screw yoy

also pj belongs to 7goodangel and gradient belongs to askcomboclub, these are my interpretations because i have issues

also PLEASE do not call this version of Paperjam “Jammy” i’m very uncomfortable with it, just thought i should say that…

I’ll probably talk backstory and more details later if people are interested but for now, i’ll start with some details about the older of the two, Gradient :]

Created from an experiment to see if one of errors plushes could absorb a soul, Gradient is about seven years older than his brother PJ, at around 15 or 16. He wasn’t around very many people growing up, making him very socially inept except around those he already knows, like his parents, brother and people like Fresh and Palette Roller. Around people he knows, he’s often loud, crass and even cruel, through he rarely means it. He’s made a hobby out of trashing au’s, screwing up timelines and causing a little chaos. His absolute favorite thing to do though has got to be vandalizing au’s with his favorite Uncle, Fresh. Whether it’s graffiti, exploding cans of spray paint or tp’ing Fell’s house for the third time this week, it’s all in good fun. Unless you’re Fell. but that doesn’t really matter :3

His little brother, the 9 year old Paperjam, came to life by total accident. Error was trashing the antivoid, causing Pj’s doll to fall into a soul and come alive. Error wouldn’t realize for a while, causing Pj to get thrashed around. This would not only cause Ink to be overprotective of him and Error to be incredibly gentle, but it would leave him with brain damage, causing mood swings, strong emotions and issues with sleeping. Most of the time, Pj is pretty sleepy and groggy, being able to catch some Z’s in nearly any conditions, but certain things get him to essentially “snap out of it.” He’ll usually only end up happy, sad or angry, correlating to each of the colors in his design. Instead of spray paint or silly string, Pj prefers to use paint, paper, ink; the simple stuff. Him and his brother often travel to different universes together and, while Gray is filling someone’s car with bean bag beads and glitter, Pj is either taking a nap or drawing something he thinks is pretty or important, anything he finds himself caring about.

i love them a lot if you read all of this you should totally like and reblog and send me an ask maybe i love them i wanna talk about them more this TOOK LIKE THREE HOURS TO WRITE BECAUSE I KEPT NEEDING TO SHORTEN IT-

[mariacallous]

The email arrived unexpectedly last week :

We will finish what remains of the project contract, but then we are ending doing business with Americans and American business. I know it’s not your fault, but your president just started a war. We still love the American people but good luck.

And that, as they say, is that.

There goes 20% of my cash flow.

It’s my first time being boycotted — my first time canceled.

I’m a voice-over actor. I provide the intelligent, trustworthy and engaging voice you hear narrating a TV commercial, a medical device explainer or a YouTube mini-documentary. I’m the voice on those annoying requisite training webinars you likely arrow-through quickly. I’m the aural comfort and security that helps relay information or nudges you toward trusting a brand or message.

But the trust in “that American sound” has been shattered. My client — an international organization that interacts with countries on every continent — no longer wants money going to American individuals or industry, and no longer wants an American-sounding voice to be associated with its hope-filled endeavors.

This isn’t a Ukrainian client. This isn’t some retaliatory Chinese, Iranian or North Korean company’s move. The company isn’t based in the European Union. Instead, it’s friendly Canadians, who are justifiably and patriotically uniting against our now-enemy nation led by a mad king.

And this is how our former allies are reacting. I can’t wait to see the actions from nations that have always hated us.

When the email arrived, I wanted to protest the decision — to upload proof of my entire-adult-life voting record or share links to my vast writings on LGBTQ issues and left-leaning initiatives.

Look! See! I’m just as pissed off as you are! We’re on the same side! I agree with you!

But it doesn’t matter. Everyone in the United States is guilty by association. The world has lost patience with us, even if we didn’t vote for Donald Trump. We are lumped together — whether we actually support the bad guys or we’re just lost causes suffering under them — and there will be economic consequences for all of us.

Rejection is part of any creative person’s life. We’re prepared for the “we’re taking a change in direction” speech. New CEOs, creative directors or VPs come in and tinker with existing contractor relationships. Decision-makers are replaced by new blood. It’s part of the gig, and I’ve endured such losses over the years.

But this email — this loss — stung. Any freelancer will tell you that when you succeed in finding that elusive client — the one who respects boundaries, appreciates your work without micromanaging or requesting changes, and then (gasp!) always pays you on time — you want to hold onto them for dear life.

Things were going so well.

Now this precious gift of a dependable income stream vanished, thanks to Trump’s ridiculous tariffs and “let’s make Canada the 51st state” trash talk. It’s a devastating blow while I’m already worrying about more and more companies using AI to write their scripts, edit their videos and even narrate the damn video, too.

Still, when the initial shock and hurt of losing this contract wore off, I had to tip my hat to those Canadians. I get it. I don’t blame them. Enough is enough. Someone has to have the balls to take a stand. And I have great respect for my Canadian friends and colleagues.

At least my former employer had the integrity to tell me the truth. He could’ve said my work wasn’t meeting their standards, claimed they wanted a new sound, or blamed it on budgetary tweaks. He could’ve just ghosted me.

Instead he wanted me to hear — and thought it was important for me to know — that our fearless leader’s words and actions will have consequences.

So, I’m being boycotted… by friendly Canadians.

I guess I’ll go commiserate with the former U.S. government employees who’ve also been tossed aside with violent, willy-nilly abandon. I have an inkling we’re going to be hearing similar accounts from average and not-so-average Americans feeling the pinch in the coming months, as the more forward-looking nations wash their hands of us (and our nonsense) and make harsh retaliatory and defensive moves.

The most daunting questions remain. With so many bridges burned — when all of our former allies have turned away from us and stepped forward as new global powers led by reliable and mature leaders — what will happen to the citizens of this country and this American experiment?

Blue state or red state, we’re all in the same bucket. We’re the bad guys to everyone — and anyone on the right side of history doesn’t come to save the bad guys. It will be up to us to save ourselves. But can democracy win in the face of so many actively rooting for it to fail?

I don’t know.

But I will keep fighting by using my voice and my writing, because what else can I do?

Brush up on my military contractor sound, since that’s where we’re headed? Or just adopt a British accent and acquire a new mailing address?

Right now I’m in mourning — over all of it.

[shuahoonie]

unspoken words | jeon wonwoo

pairing: non-idol!wonwoo (svt) x fem!reader

notes: office!au (kinda?), fluff, suggestive jokes, swearing, idiots 2 lovers. alcohol consumption, jeonghan the matchmaker. the one where reader and wonwoo’s paths kept missing each other until they didn’t. loosely based on the song unspoken words by mxmtoon.

word count: 5.1k

summary: you and wonwoo always had a complicated relationship— no matter how hard you two tried, your lives had a funny way of getting intertwined.

and stubborn may you both be, wonwoo will always admit his feat when it comes to you.

part of the to x, with love mini series

shuahoonie's masterlist | to x, with love masterlist

“i never asked you to stay,” wonwoo muttered as you helped him clean up after the info session that your work had conducted for a group of students.

“this is ridiculous,” you sighed more so to yourself “there’s no way you could’ve done this by yourself.” you said while you held the blue recycling bin, gathering all of the leftover flyers and other papers that had writing on them. you also had a separate bin for the coffee lids and cup sleeves to put in the recycling as well.

“you could’ve just left,” wonwoo was watching you the entire time, making a mental note that you were serious about putting away your trash. “i know seokmin is waiting for you in the lobby.”

“it’s okay.” you replied, not even bothering to look him in the eye. instead, you gathered everything in a neat pile.

“you shouldn’t keep him waiting,” the words came out so harsh when he said it. even wonwoo was surprised, he wasn’t usually like this.

“he’ll be fine,” you said dismissively, not really in the mood to argue with him.

“yn,” wonwoo calls your name as if he hated doing it. “go.”

it took everything within you to stop yourself from yelling at him. “your anger will mean nothing,” seokmin’s words would ring in your ear. so you took a deep breath, dropped what you were doing and left without another word.

“oh, seok, i was ready to pounce him.” you grumbled, stabbing the lettuce on your salad a little too aggressively.

"what, like sexually?" seokmin realized it was a bad joke. the way you were practically throwing daggers at him made it painfully obvious that you were not in the mood to kid around. "i'm sorry, yn, but you really need to lighten up."

"if there's anyone who needs to lighten up, it's him," you argued, munching on your greens. "in fact, maybe i should light him up."

"i still don't understand how you two got off on the wrong foot," seokmin points out, hoping a proper explanation will emit from you.

you shrugged because you didn’t know what to tell your friend. the first time you properly met wonwoo was at your workplace. you even thought he was cute— quiet, had the nicest smile. your other coworkers were even raving about how polite and kind he was.

imagine your surprise when the ‘polite’ cutie from the editorial floor practically threw daggers at you as soon as you stepped into the office with the cerulean blue folders. this threw off wonwoo as he did the preparation for the meeting.

“in my defence, i saved both our asses when i replaced the folders during that important meeting with the new york office,” you grumbled.

unbeknownst to you, wonwoo kept a close track of your encounters. the first time wonwoo met you was through university.

you were the president of the school’s undergraduate publication journal and you were only in your second year. wonwoo was one of the new student recruits, he was a third year. he actually thought you were cute until you had assigned him to deal with international relations— wonwoo had applied for the editorial layout section. wonwoo was not happy.

you probably don’t remember him, wonwoo knew it. how could you? you were running around, trying to figure out the logistics, gather and have people review these submissions, edit and have it all printed before the next term starts. meanwhile, wonwoo was stuck somewhere, trying to solve things on his end. you only left notes on his work, you two barely met during meetings. you two had no direct contact.

once you were in your third year, you had to step down as president and become a casual editor instead. wonwoo became the publication journal’s president that year. you two still had no direct contact.

you unintentionally beat him for that librarian assistant position that wonwoo was gunning for as it'll boost his resume.

somehow, for wonwoo, you were always one step ahead of him and he doesn't like that one bit.

so the day you pranced into the office with your signature bright smile, wonwoo felt territorial over a place where he felt like he finally was one step ahead of you.

wonwoo didn't even like that seungcheol served you the last chocolate cake the day he stopped by at heaven's cloud cafe.

"how could you, cheol?" wonwoo huffed, his arms crossed, as cheol placed the iced americano and a slice of strawberry cake on wonwoo's table.

"it's just a slice, dude," seungcheol looked at him weirdly. "and you don't even like chocolate.”

“yeah, but i wanted a chocolate cake today.”

“jeon wonwoo, quit being weird and eat your cake,” jun comments as he appears behind seungcheol, dropping his things on the floor and sitting on the opposite of wonwoo.

while jun waits for his order to arrive, he worked on the monthly report that his boss has been pressuring him to do. as jun went on rambling about how much he hates his job, wonwoo is occupied with the idea of you. how you were always a step ahead of him.

from then, jeon wonwoo declared a one-sided competition against you.

your idea of jeon wonwoo was simple— he was the cute guy from the editorial team who hates your guts. why? surely, you don’t know.

one rainy afternoon, seokmin made sure to tell you that he won’t be able to give you a ride home, so he gave you the spare umbrella that he had.

“please be kind, ynnie, and let someone stand under your umbrella if they don’t have theirs,” seok reminded you.

“you know damn well i’m always kind,” you huffed with a pout— in which seok just gave you a pointed look before he handed you an umbrella and your lunch.

it seemed that your words had come to haunt you because here you were, walking under the rain using seok’s tiny umbrella, passing by wonwoo who was waiting in front of the office building— probably waiting for the rain to stop as he had no umbrella.

“he’d be waiting all night,” you thought to yourself. you had a long internal battle whether you’d just ignore him but seok’s words were ringing in your ear.

taking a deep breath, you asked “do you want to share an umbrella?”

wonwoo’s startled eyes looked at you and your umbrella. “i’m calling a cab,” he answered. wonwoo wasn’t exactly lying, he’s been trying to get one but the rain has made it extremely difficult to find one.

“well, you’d be calling all night. cabs are extremely hard to find especially at times like these,” you answered. wonwoo hated that you were right. again, always one step ahead of him. “subways are still running, do you want to walk together?”

wonwoo stared at you for what felt like an eternity before you rolled your eyes and pulled him under your umbrella. “we’re walking, stop overthinking it.”

you two were walking quietly in the rain. you’ve been coworkers for almost a year now and you can’t remember the time you and wonwoo had a proper conversation— one that you two didn’t end up bickering about senseless things. you didn’t even know why you two were always butting heads when you two were always working closely together. 

as you tried to squeeze the two of you under seok’s tiny umbrella, you noticed that his shoulder was practically soaking wet. of all the umbrellas that he’d give you, he had to choose the tiniest one he owned. this prompted you to hover the umbrella more on his side, allowing the rain to soak your exposed shoulder instead. 

wonwoo noticed how you moved the umbrella towards him, making him raise an eyebrow. you were wonwoo’s greatest puzzle— he can’t guess your next move and what’s worse is that you’re always one step ahead of him. “what are you doing?” he asked with furrowed brows. 

you looked up at him, suddenly aware of how tall he is. no wonder your arms were getting tired from holding that damn umbrella up. “what do you mean?” you asked, confused by his question.

wonwoo grabbed the umbrella from you— your hands touching for a brief moment. you ignored whatever was forming in the pit of your stomach. maybe you’re just hungry? wonwoo hovered the umbrella closer to you, fully aware of the fact that his shoulder was getting wet from the rain. “you’re getting soaked,” wonwoo replied curtly. 

“so are you,” you pointed out as you held the umbrella and tried to move it closer to him. however, wonwoo resisted it. 

“i’m fine,” he says. 

“whatever you say,” you huffed “it’s not like you intended to have annoyingly broad shoulders anyway,” you grumbled more to yourself, hoping he didn’t hear it. however, wonwoo heard your frustration over his shoulders and he couldn’t fight off the smile on his face. 

it was the first time he could openly admit to himself that you made him smile. it was also the first time you caught him smiling.

“oh, how adorable,” mingyu grinned upon hearing the umbrella-sharing story from wonwoo. “and you said you weren’t one for office romances,” he teased earning a glare from wonwoo. 

"because i'm not," wonwoo rolled his eyes "and i don't like her," he said almost defensively.

mingyu snorted "yeah, as if i haven't heard that line before." he said while setting up the living room for a movie night between him, wonu, jun, and chan. jun and ichan were running a little late as they were buying drinks.

"well, it's true," wonwoo crossed his arms "there's something about her that makes me feel like..." wonwoo trailed off, finding the right words to say.

"like?" mingyu sat on the couch, turning towards wonwoo— clearly invested.

"like... fuck, i don't know..."

mingyu lets out a dramatic gasp. "dude," he stares at wonwoo in complete awe. "you swore..."

"and?"

"you never swear unless you're completely frustrated," mingyu pointed out, a teasing look glimmering in his eyes. "you like yn, huh?!"

before wonwoo could even answer, mingyu's doorbell rang. saved by the bell, wonwoo thought.

"oh, this is not over, jeon wonwoo." mingyu said with a smirk, making wonwoo groan.

"seok, quit looking at me like that," you whined as you hugged the pillow tighter, placing your chin on top of the pillow.

"what?" seok grinned "it's nice to know that your beef with your coworker is slowly coming to an end."

"he was probably thinking how ridiculous i sounded for mentioning his shoulders," you grumbled. "why did i even mention his shoulders?!" you groaned.

seokmin couldn't help but laugh at how adorable you were being. "oh my sweet, ynnie," he cooed, ruffling your hair.

"here you go, yn," vernon said as he handed you a pint of ice cream. you were hosting a sleepover with seok, vern, and kwan. you three were waiting for seungkwan to arrive with the rest of the snacks.

you initially thought that you'd have the ice cream later but vernon thought that you might need it sooner than later. "thanks, nonie," you smiled at him.

"for what it's worth ynnie, he finally smiled at what you said." vernon said before taking a bite of his ice cream.

"and now yn is acting up because she thought he was cute," seokmin said teasingly, making vernon laugh.

wonwoo believes that the universe is out to get him. he kept complaining that you were always one step ahead of him and now, the universe is starting to retaliate.

"take yn," his manager tells him, making wonwoo clutch tighter on his notebook.

"sir?" wonwoo must be hearing things. there's no way that his manager actually asked him to take yn, right?

"take yn ln," his manager stresses your name. "didn't you two work on the last summit?"

"yes, but sir—"

"then it's final," his manager dismisses wonwoo "you two did a wonderful job with the last summit, i'd like you two to work on this year's professional development sessions."

"you two make a wonderful team," was the final thing that his manager said. without another word, wonwoo left the office feeling defeated. how can wonwoo be one step ahead of you if the universe is making him walk alongside you?

it was no surprise that wonwoo was everyone's office crush in the editorial department. people would often turn their heads whenever he walked by. this time was no exception.

the people on your floor knew the budding tension between you two. so when wonwoo was walking towards your desk with two coffees and a bag of dessert in hand, heads definitely turned and people were bound to talk.

"here," wonwoo hands you an iced americano and a bag of what you assumed was a slice of chocolate cake, catching you off-guard. your desk computer was showing the available job listings in the other departments. "are you thinking of transferring?" he asked as he leaned closer to your monitor— closer to you. his cologne was easily filling your nostrils. you hate that he smells good. how are you supposed to despise a man who smells good?! you thought. wow, the bar is literally on the floor.

"i'm keeping my options open," you answered as you crossed your arms, snapping yourself to reality. "it's not like you're making my life any easier here," you muttered the latter sentence, though you did hope that he heard it.

it's been a month since you and wonwoo started working on the company's professional development sessions. it's also been a month of torture. you've gotten frequent migraines that you started looking up if taking tylenol frequently will kill you. you didn't like the results.

wonwoo heard the latter sentence. while the month has been torture for you, wonwoo didn't mind your company at all. sure you were butting heads most of the time, but he noticed how much you were willing to compromise just to settle a conclusion between you two. wonwoo liked pushing your buttons. he found you cute even if you wanted to bite his head off.

"is this a peace offering?" you motioned to the coffee and the cake that was sitting on your desk.

"for what?" wonwoo smirked, playing coy. "you agreed to the after-session event, fair and square."

"bitch?!" you stared at him as if he's gone mad "if anything, you made it your life's mission to annoy me into agreeing that going to an escape room is what we need after overloading our brains from the sessions."

"yn ln, you know i can go to HR because you cursed at me, right?"

"jeon wonwoo, you know we're banned from that floor unless there's a serious allegation," you said, massaging your temples. "now humour me, what's with the coffee and cake?"

"oh, i stopped by at heaven's cloud café earlier and jeonghan practically insisted that you have these," wonwoo said casually, looking away.

you stared at him suspiciously, "thanks, i guess." you haven't spoken to jeonghan in a while since you've always been swamped with work. but maybe that's why you got free coffee and desserts?

before you could even ask wonwoo another question, he quickly left without even looking back at you. deciding to ignore it, you snapped a quick picture of the coffee and the cake, shooting jeonghan a quick text, "thanks for the coffee & cake, hannie! miss u! ♡"

"jeon wonwoo, is there a reason why yn sent me a text earlier, thanking me for the coffee and cake that i didn't give her?" jeonghan asked wonwoo, who was busy typing away on his laptop. wonwoo stopped at jeonghan's place after work as their other friends will be dropping by later as well.

"i don't know what you're talking about," wonwoo mumbled, not looking at han in the eye.

jeonghan was having none of it. "i'm texting yn that you gave those things to her," he threatened, pulling out his phone.

knowing jeonghan is probably going to commit to it, wonwoo sighed and threw his hands in defeat. "fine."

“and so the plot thickens,” jeonghan smirked, crossing his arms. “so is there a reason why?"

"she was having a rough day," wonwoo explained, closing his laptop. that report will be dealt with tomorrow. "i felt bad."

jeonghan raised an eyebrow at him. "i thought you didn't like her?"

"i don't."

"funny, because that's an odd way of expressing how you dislike her," jeonghan said, making wonwoo roll his eyes.

“i can at least recognize all the work she’s been doing in planning the pd session,” wonwoo replied, defensive.

jeonghan smirked because he knew. he knew that wonwoo was walking on a thin line. in fact, jeonghan was 100% sure that his friend has gone soft for you. “okay, whatever you say.”

“ynnie!” seungcheol calls your name as he spots you, busy choosing what kind of juice you are going to buy. you decided to stop by at the grocery to grab a couple of things for the fridge.

you gave him a small wave, smiling. seungcheol, however, was eager to give you a hug. you, cheol, and han shared a couple of classes back when you three were in university. you were always supportive of their endeavours that’s why cheol & han always had a soft spot for you— they considered you like a little sister that they always had to take care of.

“how was the cake from earlier? you know i’ve been taking a lot of baking lessons recently,” cheol said with a proud smile.

“oh, it was great, cheol!” you said sincerely “i sent jeonghan a text earlier, saying thanks.”

“thanks for what?”

“for the cake…?” you trailed off, a bit off-guard by the confusion plastered on seungcheol’s face.

“why would you thank jeonghan?” seungcheol asked, even more confused.

“jeonghan wasn’t there?”

cheol shook his head no. “unless jeonghan told wonwoo, but i assumed wonwoo bought it for you. i was teasing him about it too, since he doesn’t like chocolate that much.”

“ah,” was all you could say as you felt your cheeks burning, surprised by cheol’s sudden information. is that why jeonghan hasn't replied to your text at all?

cheol suddenly felt like he just triggered a bomb. oh, he fucked up. as if on cue, his phone started ringing. mingyu was calling. "okay, i'm heading off, ynnie."

you just nodded and waved goodbye, feeling confused. it was a good thing that you won't be seeing wonwoo during the weekend otherwise you would've gone mad.

heaven's cloud café was buzzing with people when you came in.

you spent a lot of time debating if you had to improvise how you would spend your sunday morning. you would usually stop by the heaven's cloud café and spend a good chunk of your time there— reading or chatting with jeonghan and seungcheol.

however, knowing that wonwoo might stop by at the cafe, it left you questioning if you wanted to derail your usual sunday routine.

and yet, your pride got the best of you. no matter how much you didn't want to see wonwoo, you weren't going to derail your sunday routine especially if it involved coffee.

although the café was usually busy on the weekends, today was unusually busy— you wondered if there was a special promotion taking place. jeonghan hasn't even acknowledged your presence yet as han is busy manning the till while also preparing the drinks. cheol is probably in the kitchen, preparing food.

you settled on the last empty table at the very back— dropping off your things, deciding to order a bit later once the line from the till calms down.

while you were busy scrolling on your phone, someone placed a tall glass of iced americano and a slice of strawberry cake on your table.

"you should try this, it's a house favourite," someone with a deep voice said. you looked up and saw jeon wonwoo with slightly messy hair, wearing your favourite black specs and a white button-up, smiling at you. fuck, he looks good. is hell officially frozen?

"are you perhaps a twin of jeon wonwoo?" you asked, completely boggled.

"yn, what the hell?" wonwoo laughs at your incredulous take, making you even more confused. why is this wonwoo variant laughing and smiling at you? most of all, why are they bringing you food when you haven't even ordered?! "what made you say that?"

you reached out your hand and poked his cheek, making him laugh. "are you really wonwoo from sector17 press?"

"yn, seriously, what makes you think that it's not me?"

"why are you so smiley all of a sudden," you cried, weirded out. "and why are you serving me food?"

"my, do you like it when i give you a hard time?" wonwoo said, teasingly "is that a kink of yours?"

"you're fucking weird, jeon wonwoo," you smacked his arm. "i've never met the weekend version of wonwoo and i don't think i like it," you cried quietly to yourself.

"cute," wonwoo says quietly, still smiling at you. "i'll talk to you later, okay? i'm helping cheol and han for the day and i feel like they'll beat my ass if they see me slacking off." wonwoo gently ruffled your hair and walked away, leaving you flabbergasted.

you felt that familiar feeling in the pit of your stomach. oh god, what the fuck just happened?

the friday night that jeonghan found out that wonwoo used jeonghan’s good name to protect his image, was the same night that seungcheol bumped into you at the grocery store.

drinks were getting passed rather at a rapid speed. for them, this night was a gem among other nights. most of jeonghan’s friends were at his place, enjoying the night away.

“ya, wonwoo,” cheol suddenly calls wonwoo, who was barely drinking— as per cheol’s opinion. “i thought tonight was the night that you were going to get loose.”

wonwoo chuckled, “i’m pacing myself.”

jeonghan snorted. “cheol, you’re talking to the guy who still cannot admit his high school crush on our ynnie.”

this earned a couple of laughs from the group, mainly from mingyu and jun.

“yoon jeonghan, just because you’re in a happy relationship—” wonwoo threw a balled up napkin at him, obviously not knowing how to reply.

“oh, wons, that reminds me…” cheol started rubbing the back of his head “i told yn that it was you who gave her the food and not jeonghan.”

as soon as the words left cheol’s mouth, it’s as if wonwoo felt annoyingly sober. he downed the tall shot of bacardi that was supposed to be mingyu’s shot.

“i don’t get why you’re tiptoeing around your feelings for her,” mingyu pointed out, filling the shot glass again. “it’s not like there’s a company policy against dating your coworkers.”

“isn’t there?” joshua asked. wonwoo shook his head no. “lucky bastard.” shua muttered, taking mingyu’s shot.

“you guys, what’s the point of doing rounds when you’re taking the shots as you please?” mingyu whines.

“i thought you didn’t like yn?” jun asked wonwoo, taking a bite of the kimchi jeon. “or is that like a weird defence mechanism against your feelings?”

"oh please," mingyu rolled his eyes "wonwoo had a huge crush on yn ever since our uni days," he pointed out, prompting wonwoo to hit him.

"weren't you two in like a school publication together?" jeonghan asked, taking the shot from mingyu.

"oh, right! you had like a one-sided beef with yn," jun's eyes lit up briefly, then proceeded to smirk at wonwoo, "ya! is that how you show your affection?"

"obviously not," cheol grins "our wonwoo is the type to show his affection through actions, not words."

"what are the chances that they'd end up working under the same company though," joshua commented with a fond smile.

"and in the same department too," jeonghan added.

wonwoo groans, before taking a shot, "i hate all of you."

"you two have a deep history, have you two never talked?" joshua asked, now invested.

wonwoo shakes his head, "we only talk about work."

"if they talk about work," mingyu laughs, "all they do is argue."

"how do you know all of this, gyu?" cheol asked in disbelief, laughing, "you work at a different company."

"i work with seokmin," mingyu replied "and seok likes to tell stories about yn."

"ya, didn't we invite him tonight?" cheol suddenly remembers, looking at his phone to check his message thread with seok.

"he's probably with yn," wonwoo muttered before taking another shot. this gets attention from the rest of the group— a series of teasing smirks and playful looks being exchanged.

like a kid on christmas morning, a bright smile appears on mingyu's face. "won, are you perhaps jealous?" he teased, with the new-found information.

wonwoo scoffed but didn't answer the question. wonwoo swore he wasn't the jealous type. but for some reason, he can't get over the fact that his friend was closer to you.

wonwoo knew that there was nothing going on with you and seok.

however, seok was your person, wonwoo would always think. you felt happier around seok. if wonwoo didn't know any better, he would assume that you liked seok. maybe she does, wonwoo can't help but think.

"you know they're just friends, right?" mingyu reminded wonwoo.

wonwoo doesn't say anything. he was just waiting for his friends to butt into the conversation. wonwoo's eyes caught jeonghan's. jeonghan smiles, that mischievous smile of his, leaving wonwoo confused.

"won, do you wanna know who she likes?" jeonghan instigates, leaning forward.

wonwoo waits, does he really wanna know?

jeonghan smiles, then says "you."

wonwoo didn't believe in signs— for him, every little decision a person makes is pulled by the desired outcome. however, you were his only exception.

"if ynnie stops by at the café on sunday, will you finally talk to her like civilized beings?" jeonghan's words rang loudly in wonwoo's ear.

"i don't believe in signs," wonwoo states simply.

"and you can't make an exception for yn?" jeonghan knew how to play the game. he's just waiting for wonwoo to swallow his pride and address his suppressed feelings.

"maybe." wonwoo answers, making jeonghan smile mischievously. and so, it begins, jeonghan thinks.

it was ridiculous— waiting for something to happen when he could've just started a conversation with you. but it's so hard when it's you. god, it's so hard for wonwoo when it's you because you make him feel things that he thought were only exaggerated by films.

wonwoo didn't know if jeonghan's revelation about you was a lie, but he'd be lying if he said that it didn't affect him— because it did. it felt like he was back in high school and he's not sure if that's something he liked.

jeonghan and seungcheol were very much aware of your routine. every now and then, you would visit the café every sunday— even during the morning rush. they were most definitely aware of what's waiting for you and wonwoo.

the two owners had tasked wonwoo to help with serving the orders as more people flooded the café. "make yourself useful while you wait for your girlfriend!" was all jeonghan said as he handed wonwoo an apron.

and so when you entered the café, wonwoo gathered all his strength to talk to you casually, even if it sent him through an overdrive.

while you were walking towards the washroom, you bumped into jeonghan who was grinning at you. you knew that man long enough to know that he's hiding something when he's smiling like that.

"ya," you pulled jeonghan to the side. "what are you hiding?"

"what do you mean?" han answers, blinking at you innocently.

"why is wonwoo being nice and smiley," you asked him with a huff, crossing your arms. wonwoo being smiley was something you didn't know would affect you this bad. "he's being too cute for my liking," you muttered the latter part.

jeonghan laughs at your dilemma. "isn't that what you wanted?"

"what do you mean—" you were confused with jeonghan's comment until it dawned on you. you remembered the time you went out for drinks with jeonghan and seungkwan. "yoon jeonghan!" you slapped his arm, making him yelp but he was still laughing.

"what?" he looks at you, acting confused as he rubs his arm. "i'm being supportive here!"

"you promised me you wouldn't tell him," you pouted.

"oh please, he was jealous of seok, i had to throw him something."

"so you told wonwoo about the time i got drunk with you and professed my undying feelings for him instead?!"

"no," jeonghan replies. his eyes moved past yours, looking past your shoulders, and smiled. "but i think you already did." jeonghan says, patting your shoulder before he left.

wonwoo was sitting across from you with a smile on his face. you've never seen this man smile at you this much, it was starting to freak you out.

"don't look at me like that," you grumbled, glaring at wonwoo.

"i can't help it," he looks at you almost tenderly. "you look adorable even when you're sulking like that."

you felt the familiar sensation in your stomach. how can jeon wonwoo just say things like these to you? does he not care about your well-being?! how you'd feel?

"that was a long time ago, by the way," you said in defence— as if the damage hadn't been done. wonwoo waits for you to continue your sentence. "you know, me having a crush on you," you continued, your tone getting quieter after each word.

"i'm sorry, what was that?" wonwoo leans closer, as if he didn't hear what you just said. you knew he was just teasing you as you noticed that he was trying to fight off a smirk.

"i don't like you, jeon wonwoo," you whispered, prompting wonwoo to only focus on your lips.

"that's too bad because," wonwoo paused briefly and leaned even more, "i like you."

his face was dangerously close to yours— wonwoo didn't care if half of his body was practically hovering over the table. he wanted to lean closer to you.

you felt frozen in your place. a part of you wanted to lean back and smack him, but there's also a part of you that just wanted to grab his stupid face and kiss it.

"ya!" jeonghan suddenly appeared beside your table "if you two are going to make out in my café, can you move to cheol's office? i'm planning to keep this place family-friendly," jeonghan snickered.

maybe you should just kiss wonwoo and smack jeonghan instead.

hello hello friends! i wrote this while i was sick in bed & was high on buckley's flu meds, so this is v cheesy. i hope you are all well & healthy! ♡

[chibieggplant]

Doodles ~ Part 1

Trafalgar Law soulmate au | Imagine a magical connection between you and your soulmate, where everything you write on your arm appears on your soulmate's arm, too.

Fluff? A bit of angst? Idk what this is. Probably trash. Happy ending tho.

Part 1/3 | Part Two

Law was in the middle of writing medical journals on his research when he suddenly stopped, noticing something in the corner of his eye. He looked down at his forearm where a doodle of a tiny mushroom was slowly disappearing. He was used to the little doodles appearing every now and then, and like always he shook his head and ignored it as he went back to his writing.

The mushroom disappeared completely but not even a minute later another doodle appeared. This time, it was a little frog. And just as Law was about to continue writing he watched as the doodle begin to disappear. “How childish” he muttered to himself. He had no interest in finding his soulmate, he reminded himself again that he is far too busy and the very concept of someone being out there just for you was foolish.

Yet despite Law's attempts to focus on his work, the doodles kept reappearing and disappearing. They started to annoy him since they kept distracting him from importer matters. With a sigh he yet again reminded himself that there was no point in even entertaining the thought of his soulmate since that person would no doubt eventually be dragged down by all his troubles. He focused his eyes on the paper in front of him, once again attempting to ignore the doodles appearing on his arm.

Everyone in the four seas grew up knowing the concept of finding your soulmate. You remember being told as a young girl that if you write a message on your arm, someone out there will be able to read it and they would write back. You were so excited the first time you wrote a message, you couldn’t help but wonder what your person would be like. What are they going to write back? Will they be funny? Maybe they are really smart? What do they look like? Where are they from?…The very thought of having someone out there destined for you was so exciting, it was like having a best friend made exactly for you! So when no reply appeared on your arm you thought, maybe they are asleep right now? Or maybe it disappeared before they noticed it? But when days grew in weeks, into months, your disappointment grew immeasurable. Were they okay? Did you just not have a soulmate?

Law was no exception to the belief that everyone has a soulmate. He knew the concept. He just had no desire to find his soulmate in the first place. Because of his past record, because of his past, because of…him, he feared he would only be a burden to some poor girl out there. And if he ever did find his soulmate, he believed they'd eventually just be dragged down with his problems. So he decided to ignore the concept entirely. He decided to ignore the scribbles that kept appearing on his arm and after a while his soulmate stopped writing messages. Only to be replaced by silly doodles instead.

And the same happened today, more silly doodles appearing and disappearing. Law decided to continue with his work, shaking off the occasional distraction, he was more used to it by now. Though it was still annoying every now and then. Just as went to grab his coffee mug he noticed a small doodle of a bear which involuntarily caused him to give a small smile.

And for a brief moment, he allowed himself to believe he was deserving of a soulmate. Just a brief moment, a mere thought. He immediately shook away the smile, trying desperately to avoid any feeling of sentimentality. He had more important things to do than to think about a silly concept.

You gave up a long time ago writing to your soulmate. You told yourself that you probably didn’t even have one. And if you did they never wrote back so why bother? Sometimes for fun, or when you were bored you would draw little doodles on your arm…no, deep down you knew you did this just in case. Just in case they did exist, maybe you could make them smile or remind them that you were still out there.

The doodles that have appeared so far today have all been silly. A little mushroom, a badly drawn frog, multiple flowers, some squiggly patterns and the little bear. The bear was…kind of cute? He thought for a second before he ran his fingers through his hair and attempted to collect his thoughts. He needed a break. Soon he’d be traveling with the Strawhats and he needed to complete his plans.

Fast-forward

Today was the day he would temporarily part with his crew, keeping them safe while he completed his upcoming mission. Law scans through his notes as he walks to the Sunny wanting the ensure he was fully prepared, or at least as prepared as he could be when dealing with the Strawhats. He notices another doodle appear, this one depicting a little bee. He chuckles briefly and shakes his head. It just seemed so silly. Do they have nothing better to do?

However, the fact that his soulmate drew doodles like that made Law feel oddly warm...just for a moment, just the briefest moment. He was surprised with how much a little doodle could brighten up his day. He smiled to himself before it even crossed his mind. And just like that, his warm feeling was instantly replaced by his usual cold-hearted persona. He needed to get on the damn ship, there were more important things to do than to keep staring at his stupid arm. And so, with some grumbling, he made it onto the ship. After a few hours he noticed the doodles had stopped appearing entirely, maybe his soulmate had given up. Maybe they'd simply gotten bored. Either way, it didn't matter. His sole responsibility was to get through this next mission. Nothing else mattered.

The next few days were rather busy as he attempted to plan and research around the chaos of the strawhat crew. No little doodles had appeared on his arm since he got on the ship. He didn't mind at all, if anything, he enjoyed having his arm free from the distraction. Law was finally able to have a few minutes in peace and quiet. Despite telling himself this multiple times he couldn’t help but occasionally glance at his arm. For some annoying reason the lack of silly flowers and bears appearing was starting to bother him.

He would never admit it but with each day that went by without seeing a stupid cat or a silly frog made him feel, sad. The silence that the lack of doodles had left almost made him feel lonely in a way, he hated it. He didn't understand why it bothered him. The doodles were nothing but stupid, insignificant scribbles. Yet somehow, his day just seemed to feel empty without them.

You didn’t know Law all too well but you knew that Luffy considered him an ally, a friend, which was good enough for you. Luffy told you he was a bit grumpy but a good guy who would help us. The first time you ever spoke to law he explained Despite their differences and how often they disagreed, he could admit they had built a certain level of trust...but he'd still punch Luffy if he tried anything funny though. You noticed Law standing out on the deck looking even more annoyed than usual as he looked out at the sea.

Law was leaning against the railing of the ship as he observed his surrounding with a frustrated expression. The seas were calm and the breeze was gentle, his mood was not. He was irritated. It made absolutely no sense. He had more important things to think about. Like...the mission at hand he told himself. The longer he thought about it, the more he started to get the impression his soulmate had obviously given up for good. This was the longest they had gone without drawing anything. He was actually becoming quite miffed about it. Why would they suddenly stop? Of course, that thought made him feel rather dumb because it’s not like he ever wrote back…but still, it made him oddly annoyed. He was actually starting to get jealous. Maybe someone else might have caught his their eye. Maybe they didn’t have time anymore? Law shook his head furiously to try and force that nonsense out his head.

You made your way over to Law, maybe he just needed some company? It must be hard being on an unfamilar ship, maybe he misses his own crew?

Law looked up as he saw you approach him, he didn't seem particularly pleased. In fact, he barely looked pleased at all. However, when he saw it was you he looked like he was forcing himself not to seem annoyed. He even made an effort to loosen his expression a bit. Though he was still visibly irritated, he tried his best not to snap "If you need something, what is it?"

You chose to ignore his irritated tone, he’s definitely not in a good mood. “Just thought you could use some company? Must be hard being away from your crew”

Law was about to snap at you but he held his tongue. Maybe he was being too harsh. Perhaps he was letting out his frustration on you, which wasn't fair. Instead, he attempted to soften his reply, though the fact that he was in a bad mood made the reply sound annoyed. "I'm fine. I just have a lot of important things I have to do”

“Like stare at your arm every two minutes?” you softly chuckle.

Law paused for a moment. His expression immediately darkened after he realized you noticed him doing that. He was caught red-handed. And he did not like it. He let his annoyance show, as he sharply said..."What of it?." He immediately cursed himself for letting his annoyance get the best of him. He was trying not to take it out on you, but he had just done the exact thing he tried not to do.

Again you chose to ignore the blatant annoyance in his tone and asked simply “Are you waiting for your soulmate to write back?” you asked curiously.

Law's eyes narrowed a bit more when you said the word "soulmate". However, you were right. He had been doing just that, although he would never admit it at the moment. "It's...it's nothing”

“I’m sure they will write back” you smile reassuringly. “is that what has you so grumpy?” You add with a playful smile.

“I’m not grumpy” He quickly grumbled. "And as for my soulmate, I assure you, I do not care if they write back or not. And for your information, they haven't written a thing in days, so I am certain that they don't have time to write anymore. In fact, I am certain that they will never write back. If anything, I have been enjoying the silence." He was trying way too hard to put on a stubborn front. He crossed his arms, attempting his best to act like he didn't care. However, it was a poor attempt. He cared a lot, and he wasn't sure what to do. Why was he so miffed about it? He was trying to be rational and suppress his emotion but he was failing miserably. If only they would just write back. There was also the fact that he was feeling strangely lonely because the doodles had stopped appearing. He was actually growing quite attached to them, despite being fully aware of the irony of the fact he himself has never written a single thing.

“Uh huh…” despite his outburst it was pretty clear that he did in fact care. “Well at least your soulmate writes back at all” you mumbled with a hint of a sad tone.

"...What do you mean by that?" there was an almost accusative tone in his reply. As if he was trying to pry at you. This was a great chance to distract him from his own misery.

“I mean that at least you have a soul mate to write back…I don’t even have one” you let out a small laugh in attempted to cover up your depressive words.

Law paused for a moment when you mentioned not having a soulmate. He didn’t want to pry too much as he felt you didn't want to go into detail, yet he decided to humor your statement. Law sighed. “How do you know you don't have a soulmate? Maybe they're just really slow with their writing."

“Yeah because I’m sure it takes them years to come up with something to say” you deadpan back.

Law couldn't help himself and he let out a soft chuckle at your humour. As he returned to his usual self, he spoke again. His tone was sarcastic as usual and he raised an eyebrow. “You should be glad that you don't have one. Having a soulmate seems to cause more headaches than joy at times." Law continued to observe you, noticing that his little comment left an impact on you. Your body language instantly changed and your cheerful demeanor quickly vanished when he made his comment. He had inadvertently struck a chord.

“Hmm…maybe” your attempt to go and cheer Law up was quickly crushed as you were reminded that you didn’t have a soulmate, or at least one who wanted you. You tried not to think about your soulmate never writing back to you but when you did it just made you…sad.

Law immediately noticed the tone of your voice instantly dropped the moment you spoke. It was evident that his statement bothered you. Though he didn’t show it, he felt somewhat guilty about having said that. What a fool he was, he had been trying to lighten the mood by saying that it isn’t all that it’s cracked up to be, but all he did was be insensitive...and there it was, again. That sinking feeling that he was doing something wrong.

“Anyway dinner is in about an hour so…if you excuse me I have some work I have to do” you put on a smile as you excused yourself.

Law was still deep in thought when you gave your excuse and left. As you walked away, the sinking feeling grew in his chest. He had messed up again, he was too insensitive. He should have realised that his little comment would bother you, especially considering the fact that you never heard back from your soulmate. He should have been more considerate. However, he was so preoccupied with his own feelings that he hadn’t even considered your feelings. A new sense of guilt also washed over him as he thought about that fact he never replied to his own soulmate. Was there was another girl out there feeling sad like you? Thinking that they don’t have a soul mate just because he’s too stubborn to write back.

Law sighed and walked away as well. What a fool he was. Soon he was back with the rest of the crew and he was already being bombarded by Luffy’s shenanigans. Law had no choice but to keep it together. He was going to get through this mission and then he'd deal with his feelings. Because after all, feelings are nothing more than a distraction.

[whumpisgoodwhumpislife]

LULLABY #2/3

Going pretty dark in here. Nothing really graphic, but head the CWs.

CW: SA (strongly implied), prison violence, suicide idealization

Talking hadn't done much for him. Lull was a villain, a criminal, and a lot of important people had personal grudges against him. He had crawled into countless minds under Malgrave's orders, broken some of them definitely, and a few confessions weren't enough to erase his past.

The trial was short, a joke. Lull wasn't surprised when the gavel fell on a life sentence, but still. His heart twisted in his chest. He was saying goodbye to freedom, forever. And to life, likely.

The jumpsuit was too large. The handcuffs too tight. And the other inmates' looks as he was led through the large corridor were too smug. His head spun as the guards removed his restraints, and pushed him into an empty cell. It felt unreal, as if he was dreaming. But this time, he wasn't the one in control. He barely made it to the bunk bed before collapsing, sound asleep.

Dreams didn't came. The prison's walls were lined in power suppressants, cutting Lull's away from his last illusions of control. He wasn't tall, wasn't strong, wasn't cunning. He was weak, and weakness made him a target.

He would fall asleep at worst times possible. His hypersomnia didn't cared about the jail's strict timetable. The others inmates were quick to take advantage of it, betting on how long he would last before passing out. And then, worse. They didn't care about who he was, who he used to be. They only saw an opportunity.

It started small. Someone tripping him in the hallway. His meal tray disappearing while he was passed out at the table. But it quickly escalated, guards looking away for a few bucks, while he was dragged to a corner by the block's bullies. At first, they were content with just beating him up. Leaving him with bruised ribs and a split lip. The prison's nurse stopped asking questions, quietly writing reports that were destined to end up in the trash.

And then, they made Lull wish for a simple beat up. The bruises grew warmer, more invasives. Hand shaped marks where no foreign hand should go. He tried to fight it at first, but it was utterly useless. They only seemed to like it more. Even though sometimes they came for him while he was asleep or dozing off, as if enjoying his helplessness, his nails weakly scraping against their skin. Then, he would just close his eyes and pretend. That he was anywhere but there. He was getting frighteningly good at it, so much that coming back to the real world felt harder each time.

It had only been a couple of months. Sometimes, Lull thought about Malgrave. And about his replacement. Was she really better than him ? Without a doubt. Did his former boss thought about him, sometimes? Unlikely. Not the type.

Sometimes, he just felt like giving up. It would be easy to find something to use as a blade, the prison was full of shivs. But even that was too much. It required planning, energy, and above all, hope for something better, beyond. Lull didn't have any of these. No will. No strength. But sometimes, he would imagine it. His mind fading, like falling asleep. The pain, the constant ache from the bruises and everything else, gone. Surely, it would feel like going home.

He was far from having his sixteen hours of sleep a day. The guards were used to it by now. They'd search for him, regularly, and when they found him sleeping instead of doing the laundry or whatever job detail he was supposed to be working on, they'd wake him up. Harshly, kicking him to the ground.

They knew. They knew about everything, about the hands under his jumpsuit, about the smug grins the other inmates exchanged over him. They knew and they didn't care.

And Lull had already given up.

Taglist : @sausages-things @jumpywhumpywriter @why-not-ask-me-a-better-question @thataquaticwhumper @alyscat

@whatamidoingherehelpme @fleur-a-whump @ratsupremacy88 @whatiswhump @scoundrelwithboba

@phoenixpromptsandstuff @bacillusinfection @artfulbok @melpomenelamusa

[alexanderlightweight]

Hello hello and happy Wednesday! I saw your post about how hot it is and oh my goodness be careful! Where I live it doesn’t get that hot and I’m so glad 😂 I hope your partners both feel some semblance of better soon depression is something I struggle with and it’s hard ❤️ I hope you guys find something that makes all of you smile.

For a prompt could you do anything that has Alec being overstimulated or just emotionally burnt out? Any verse is good I just would love something with Alec feeling particularly rough and exhausted emotionally but also like a livewire from overstimulation and having Magnus help ease it. I’m definitely projecting a bit but if not then consider this a free space to write what you want! Nsfw/sfw either one (though it would be interesting to see how nsfw would apply) thank you kindly and sorry for the huge paragraph! I hope you have a great rest of your week

hi! happy wednesday!

yeah i'm going outside only as needed. i did have to take out the trash which sometimes can wait till night but i was unable to. and nightshade needed the umbrellas up so his potty spots were shaded (the umbrellas go down depending on haboob/monsoon possibilities).

Nightshade makes ALL of us smile. he is the cutie patootie of the house (with a very shiny booty). he is so upset about being so far from me (the counter is higher than the table) so i brought in a camping chair (none of us camp it's for the park lol) and he keeps jumping up to join me for a few cuddles and then leaving. everytime he leaves he launches out, sending the chair back into the wall. he does this every time too.

the Abyss is working overtime on trying to get him in trouble. it's both hilarious and traumatizing (for him)

and you know, we keep going forward. we're all spending more time around each other which is good because being alone can make it harder during depression. and Say is speaking up more about intrusive thoughts so we can disprove them (if they're related to like, actions/words etc).

like no babe, i didn't say that because i secretly think you're annoying. i genuinely thought you yelling from the kitchen 'i shall wage war upon the potatoes!' as you peel the sprouts from them truly adorable. seriously. i almost snorted tea out my nose. (evil family make say doubt). i was sincere in saying 'honey you're fucking adorable'. kind of a way.

because it's important not to let the brain weasels win.

a great method i use is, i go. okay, were you sincere when you called that weird habit i have adorable? and say will be like 'yes, i think it's cute'.

and then i explain that hey, the same for me. the things you think are weird or annoying, i find them cute or adorable or hilarious. i'll tell you honestly if i have a problem or something stresses me out. but remember, if you can be sincere about me, i can be sincere about you. kind of a thing. having a friend or partner or trustworthy family member who can do that for you is really helpful. because depression isn't logical and if you have a shock of logic like that, even if it's annoyed and 'well okay but it's different' the brain can't outright refute it. which allows for doubt, towards the depressive mindset.

also sending you a hug if you'd like and lots of Nightshade cuddles and kisses (both from him and you may smooth the divot). i hope this fits in with what you wanted? and i hope things get better for you and you also find many new things consistently to make you smile.

last part here

<3 lumine

the frost of fury

“Alexander?” Magnus finds himself asking. Because he's been under the impression that Alexander wouldn't have much time to come to him. It's the kind of sudden visit that leads to Magnus forgoing summoning a sleep robe to instead stride over to Alexander. Unashamed of being naked and uncaring, instead luxuriating in the soft breeze and dull morning sun. 

Alexander’s back is towards him.

It’s a startling realization.

That Alexander is more focused on the perimeter than Magnus and while a part of that is a bit insulting, it’s also rewarding.

Because while Magnus would prefer Alexander’s attention on him, this means Magnus’ shadowhunter is giving his back to Magnus.  True, he’s slept vulnerable in Magnus’ arms after quite a bit of sex.

But this is different.

There’s a weight to it that Magnus feels slide onto his shoulder, a burden  not to weigh him down but to be carried with pride.

“Why do I trust you so much?”

It’s not a question Magnus expects and it’s not one he can answer.  He too doesn’t understand either his own yearning and trust of Alexander, or Alexander’s for him.

“I’ve officially disowned myself from the Lightwood line.” Alexander tells him as he finally turns around.  His eyes take in Magnus in his entirety and they soften as Magnus blinks, slow and steady and reaches out to smooth the collar of Alexander’s shirt. “I won’t, I can’t let the weight of their sins and the burden of their failures haunt me through every choice.  The Clave finds no problem, considering that I still carry Lightwood blood and it’s my own business if I disowned myself.  The Institute remains mine, but I’m a Trueblood now.  A legacy untainted by genocide. An Institute no longer under the name of murderers. And the only person I wanted to tell, to try and explain myself to, was you.”

Alexander looks haggard and Magnus hums softly and finally summons himself a robe.  It does not appear that Alexander showed up for sex, as delightful as that would have been.

However as this is showing that when Alexander is emotionally distraught, he came to Magnus, Magnus will forgive it.

“And yet you seem lost.”

“Because I’ve lost my family for this, Magnus. Is it worth it? What I’ve done? What I’m doing? I’ve exiled two of my siblings from the only home they’ve ever known. It will be months if not years before they’re let back. I know exactly how shadowhunters are tested in Idris. I know they’ll fail despite being prodigies.  Without a politician pushing them forward to show off, they won’t be let through until they’re fully trained. I might not see my youngest brother for years and I doubt my parents will forgive me.  I’ve humiliated and shamed not only them but their favored children and I’ve walked away with the power and legacy to build that they’ve been coveting for years.”

“Is it worth it, upholding justice and your oaths? Or would you rather protect the feelings of terrorists who committed treason?” Magnus asks, blunt and with a sigh as he looks at his nails.  The color seems dull in the strengthening light of the sun. It’s with an absent though that he grasps Alexander’s jaw, thumb pressing up against his boy’s bottom lip.

It’s easy to change the color to match the color of Alexander’s plush mouth and there’s a sigh, said mouth brushing over his fingers.

“No, it’s worth it.”

“Then you have your answer.”

Magnus has a feeling Alexander has some unfortunate feelings and emotions they’ll need to deal with, regarding his family.  Despite his logic and skills and beautiful competence, Magnus isn’t willing to assume Alexander has the ability to cut his ties so cleanly as he needs.  Nor can Magnus help with any true healing or distancing.

It would be so easy to feed Alexander a potion.  Anything really, even a little emotional dampening spell would work.  However it wouldn’t do any good in the long run and Magnus would rather they get this over with.  Cleanly and with sterile precision.

Alexander flinches from Magnus bare fingers against his skin and Magnus lets the warmth of his touch and his magic sink into his boy.

“You’re shaking.” He murmurs, because Alexander is trembling and while Magnus may not care about what the Lightwood’s or shadowhunters have brought upon themselves, he cares about this one man thinks and does.

His shadowhunter.

“I have everything I’ve worked towards and have lost everything I was brought up to protect.” Alexander looks helplessly adrift, “I— how am I supposed to handle this?”

Magnus pulls Alexander gently towards his balcony doors, because Alexander needs containment not a place with continually changing sensory input.

It’s with a snap of his fingers that he lights the fire and summons the thick sheepskins Ragnor bequeathed upon him. The texture should be soft enough and interesting enough that Alexander will be able to enjoy it, or ignore it.

“Go settle in front of the fire.” Magnus tells him and when Alexander just looks at him, helplessly confused and the competency that drew Magnus to him gone, Magnus melts. There is something about having someone so beautifully composed crumple before him — and only him, that has Magnus swallowing harshly.

It’s so easy to guide Alexander, who is nothing but pliable in Magnus’ hands. He doesn’t even flinch when Magnus changes his clothing to something softer and more comfortable, Magnus own lounge-wear.

“The consequences of actions cannot only affect you, darling.” Magnus murmurs as he summons several drinks and just settles against a veritable mountain of pillows.  “Others too, must be held to the same and sometimes even greater standards.  You have committed no crimes yet paid the price for sins done in a name you never asked to claim. I too bear the burden of my father’s sins, Alexander.  Yet I am not defined or confined by them.” The drink Magnus has summoned is fruity and tart and something he thinks Alexander would enjoy, but instead he offers his boy juice, thick and rich and full of magical nutrients that Alexander will need.

Shadowhunters aren’t shaken easily.  Alexander’s body will adapt and readjust quickly, but his mind will remember and linger on it.

“Why do you trust me?” Magnus asks, a re-framing of the question he could not answer.

“I couldn’t imagine anything else.” Alexander tells him, slow and honest and tired. “You were there. You were magical and you just, you were trustworthy.  I don’t know Magnus. That’s why I asked you.  I was hoping maybe you just exude like a natural charm as a part of your warlock mark or something. Or maybe you could explain it as it coming with age and power. Or that a lot of people met you and felt this way.”

Magnus is simultaneously offended and delighted.

“While I am quite capable of charming most people, it’s not like this. Not with someone like you,  Alexander.”

Magnus doesn’t even just mean a shadowhunter.

However he’s still a bit irked that Alexander thinks something like Magnus’ charisma can be explained with mere age and power.

Magnus’ charisma is both natural and also a talent he’s honed.

A bit of a demonic natural perhaps, but not enough to be considered mark and honestly, most nephilim find his charm off putting  — though whether that speaks to their prejudice or a natural distaste Magnus isn’t sure.  Either way, it says something that Alexander is instead the opposite.

“You wouldn’t come here just because of trust, Alexander.”

“Because I want you. To be around you and with you and I feel better when I am.” There’s a tired, small smile and then Alexander adds tired and slurring from being emotionally drained, “even if you’re mean during sex.”

Magnus tries really hard not to snort and instead it comes out a strangled sigh.  Which is still better than the exasperated laugh he wants to let out. “Giving you choices and options is hardly being mean, Alexander.”

Alexander pouts up at him and considering he’s still trembling and his fingers are white knuckled in the sheepskin, Magnus will let the argument die there. In the adorable curve of Alexander’s mouth sulking at him.

“You made the right choice.” Magnus reminds him, because perhaps that’s what Alexander needs.

It helps, in some small way as Alexander turns his face against Magnus’ thigh and rubs his cheek and nose against the skin there. Magnus would prefer a little less temptation when Alexander is this emotionally vulnerable, however he also isn’t going to deny himself or Alexander any physical touch or comfort.

“I don’t want to feel like this. Like everything is falling apart.”

“Your Institute is stable for the first time in decades. You have authority and hunters who trust you. And I have you, Alexander.”

Alexander did Magnus the honor of breaking in front of him. Crumpling to pieces before him and Magnus will either hold him together or piece him back together as best as he can.

Magnus still likes what he saw.

Prefers Alexander strong and tall and cold — but melting for Magnus.

Having Alexander like this, raw and open in his arms is a treasure, one Magnus will guard and maintain.

AN:

alec being competent is something magnus is very drawn to. however he also likes alec being vulnerable with him. and relying on him.

alec also is just. he can't break down in front of his subordinates. any of them. it's just not something he can do. he has no one to rely on and he decides that he trusts magnus enough to go to him for it.

which happens pretty quick in canon too.

magnus finds he likes both sides of alec.

Magnus: oh. oh no. i like ALL of him.

Magnus: this is dangerous

Alec: i am sad

Magnus: ... so he can never be sad again. this is doing things to me. i don't like the lack of control i have over myself at the moment. so therefore, no more sadness for my alexander.

[pittrabbit]

Heyyyyy I was wondering if you would be able to, if you’re comfortable writing a platonic sammy bryant x reader (maybe she’s like 17/18 the kinda have a father/daughter bond) where she’s his babysitter and one day when he’s on patrol his house gets broken into when she’s babysitting. The baby doesn’t get hurt but she does. (not too badly, you know just bruises and cuts) and he hears it on the radio and when he gets there she is all upset and apologizing to him.

this is so out of my depth im not gonna lie ive never written from a daughter pov before but ill try it for you annon!!

content: offscreen robbery, can be read as platonic age gap with sammy but it isnt really specified, reader is in school but it can be hs or college its up to ur imagination, fluffy angst, etc.

this wasn't really how you were expecting the night to go.

it was a usual tuesday, which meant you would get off from school and immediately go to detective bryant's apartment. this was a semi new job for you, watching sammy's son on the afternoons in which he had his son and happened to be double-booked with patrolling duties.

detective bryant was a pretty nice guy. you could tell he took his job seriously, and that raising his son was also one of the most important parts of his life. he hadn't made his separation from his wife too obvious, but you could tell from context cues that things were anything but swell in the bryant household. you couldnt really imagine why anyone would ever be on bad terms with detective bryant, though. he seemed like such a lovely man.

he always drove you home after you'd finish watching his son, would pay you more than you needed sometimes, and would even stop by a drive-thru of your choice on his way to drop you off.

sammy was a nice, comforting figure in your life. not only was the money beneficial, but he always made you feel comforted. like your efforts to help him were truly appreciated.

which was why tonight's events had you hyperventilating.

it hadn't been that big of a deal. you were just lounging around his apartment as per usual. you partook in the usual tasks you always did when housesitting for him. cleaning the house a bit, washing the dishes, taking out the trash. they were all pretty basic tasks in which you always took baby nate along with you.

carrying him with you, you tried to your free hand to take out the trash, but he'd gotten too big by now to make that possible. instead, you decided to leave him in his room, making sure nothing was out of place and that he'd be fine on his own for the five minutes it'd take to head back downstairs and take the trash out.

in hindsight, you were glad you'd taken him into the room. because those two minutes you spent dragging the trash bag outside, you'd been met with a situation you weren't sure you could've spared baby nate's safety from.

it all happened pretty quickly. you hadn't gotten too hurt, mostly rattled. you were lucky to be able to run back inside as fast as you did, losing a slipper in the process but only suffering the few bruises the man left on you from grabbing and pulling at your arms in attempts to drag you with him.

you'd been lucky really, considering he could've easily used some weapon against you, seized you without you even realizing it.

when you made it back into the house, you locked the door, running upstairs and locking yourself in the baby's room as you called sammy, voice too frazzled for him to not worry and rush home to you.

he arrived in his police car, his partner on tow right behind him. his gun was pulled up when he made his way into the baby's room, having inspected the whole house just in case before coming to find you.

the first thing he did was take his baby into his arms, mumbling words of relief at his safety, glad he hadn't even witnessed anything occur.

once he felt at ease with baby nate, he made his way to your shaken-up form, trapping you in a bear hug and whispering praise against your hair.

"it's all okay, you did a great job, kid."

"hey, you're okay now, yeah? i'm here."

"i'll never let anything happen to you."

it didn't take long for him to calm you down. despite your endless apologies, he insisted none of it was necessary, that he was just happy the two of you were safe. for the next few days, he insisted you come over to the station with him, to wait for him there as you watched nate while he worked.

he became way more vigilant and protective over you, making your job as a babysitter practically useless, but only finding peace of mind if he could ensure the two of you were safe.

[silverbeamcreations]

When Duty Summons

A DP x DC fanfic by Silverbeam creations aka lunarmushroom on AO3

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

AUTHOR NOTE:

I'm new to tumblr and new to fanfic writing styles, so comments, hearts, theories, ideas etc, are helpful in my motivation to write more, and I super appreciate it. Any tips for how tumblr works and any fandom and writing tips are welcome as well. Thanks, and I hope you enjoy!

‐----------------------

Part 4

"peek a booooo?" murmered Danny quietly as he popped his head through another wall. DAnnys fingers tapped along the wall as he gave the room a look around. empty rusted barrels lay along one wall amidst the dust, trash, and other refuse of the abandoned building. At the obvious lack of life signs danny continued grumbling. 15 minutes into chasing down the summoning spell, all signs had vanished. Once gone he had spent the next couple hours searching the estimated area he guessed was likely a good start and then had expaneded his earch.

score 3 crack heads, 1 elderly homeless man that must have been near deaths door as he seems to sense him even though invisible along with a half dozen rats and vermin and he had come up with squat. Hed taken a break to refocus his approach and refuel. While he made a quick pb and j...a quintiple layer monstrosity for max ghost energy, he couldn't shake the flash of ghost energy he felt before the signal had dissapeared. Such an intense rage, lined with pain and perhaps deep within it a coal of fear, sparking the flames of rage. It nagged at him picking at his core.

He reached over, rolling on his bed to fumble for his phone, sandwich half eaten as he opened a familiar group chat.

Dan da dan man: sooooo little fun fact for today. You know those summoning pings Ive been getting all week? Before they were like nudges but this morning seems like they managed to get the right combo buttons as it almost pulled me in, but I have that important english paper and aint nobody got time for that. So I just said like...No? and it kinda worked except .....

Sam a Lamb sauce: Danny. WHAT. DID. YOU. DO?

Tuck Nugget: Do I need to make popcorn or prep the guns?

Sama a Lamb sauce: You don't have any guns after the last ditch and run Tucker.

Tuck Nugget: Hey baby no one can dis-ARM me of these sexies...

(Attached photo of a blurry bicep)

Dan da dan man: lol Nice one Tuck

Sam a Lamb sauce: Tucker I swear at the ancients if you start another pun war I will mail you some of my new snap dragon flowers to eat all your socks.

Tuck Nugget: Jokes on you, I gave up socks for scandalating ankles in crocs!

Sam a Lamb Sauce: Ignoring that...Danny please continue telling us what trouble you have gotten into now?

Da dan dan man: yeah that... well when I managed to slap the summons away it kinda latched onto another ghost instead?

Tuck nugget: Daaaaannnnnyyyyyy noooo....

Sam a Lamb Sauce: Can we just ignore it please?

Dan da dan man: Its just that, when I chased after it, there was this like cry? It keeps nagging at my core... It was full of intense anger but I think at the base it was covering fear and well...

Sam a lamb sauce: Your obsessions not gonna let that one go...alright what can we do to help?

Tuck Nugget: Once a hero always a hero.

Dan da dan man: well the thing is the signal disapeared and I searched like sooo many blocks full of buildings and while im gonna go back out and search more, I thought a little reearch of the area might speed things up.

Sama a lamb sauce: Deep dive into gotham cults and wacko groups. What fun.

Tuck Nugget: Im sure the Local night bats have quite the library of loony death summoning groups to purview...

Sam a Lamb Sauce: oh no you cannot go hacking the batman computer again. I do not want them on our radar.

Dan da dan man: But... they prbably have the most up to date info then what the general web would have. Im sure it will be fine,Tuckers got 1337 skillz.

Tuck nugger: (thumbs up <3 <3 <3 emoji)

Sam a Lamb Sauce: famous last words.

Dan da dan man: Im gonna head out again see if I can comb a few more blocks.

Tuck nugget: RIP your english grade

Sam a Lamb Sauce: Let's hope it's just his english this time.

[okiroash]

Obsessed with post-mt. silver red... the champion you hailed as a legend, a concept of what strength is, right now- is having trouble finding where he put his wallet because he didn't need to use money for three years (the cashier watches as red rummages through his bag, the sounds of various items clanking can be heard through the room...) anyway,, some fun headcanons for him that I first wanted to tell along with illustrations but,, I don't have the energy to do that rn,, -> He knows how to mimic a pokemon's cry to such accuracy,, esp those of wild strong pokemon that lives in mountain silver, this is so that- with just himself he can terrify the weaker pokemon and make them scamper away.. it's important that his team stay at top condition and not make them waste necessary energy in case something bad would happen -> Though this doesn't mean he uses his voice more, having no one to talk to (or even the need to-) for an extended period of time, makes it easier to get into a coughing fit if he were to talk too much, leading to him talking slower, softer, and always in short chopped sentences after coming down (but still have that polite way of talking, judging from the dialogue in FRLG with the pokedoll girl compared to ethan's.... who even uses "pardon me" these days? red apparently) -> He learned how to run on all four.. when there's literally just you and your animal friends in some mountain you're bound to be a weirder guy, sorry man (and he actually moves faster this way.. but red's aware that this is something he could only do in the wild) -> Red moves like a ghost, it's good when you don't want to alarm the wild pokemon around you (and now it's people to avoid getting recognized), but this makes it hard for him to announce his presence which always end up surprising people.. -> Whenever he doesn't know how to react to a joke or what it means, he will tilt his head and stare at them with the biggest autism eyes ever.... -> Post-mt silver red gets put into a lot of socially awkward situations, it can't be helped 💔 -> Because he spent so long in a dangerous environment, red is very vigilant and cautious, though.. sometimes overly that it's not healthy, it took a while for him to start relaxing a bit more after going back to "normalcy" -> Red tried to keep track of time by writing in his diary.. one day he flipped the paper and found that he had run out of them.. he started writing on the cave's wall instead -> talking about diary, it's one of his few emotional outputs, on really bad days it's full of scribbles, messy writing, repeating words and rarely, tear stains -> being far from a talkative person, he can't just vent out his emotions through talking.. and because he has such an unexpressive face, people often think there's nothing wrong with him, simply a hero you can always depend on. red developed a slight anger issue from not being able to properly express his emotions, sometimes he would bent and smash things to let off some steam (dw.. nothing valuable, probably trashes or rocks..)

-> He finds a lot of comfort in his pokemon, rubbing circles on pikachu's fur, sleeping on top of snorlax, feeling charizard's warmth... (yeah you get what I mean,,) He also likes getting carried by them, it's a feeling of comfort that something is guiding him, just like the old days with his mom

[judasgot-it]

String Me By My Sins, So I Can Be Clean

Scenario: You found out. Yandere!Fyodor x Reader. Part 1 Word count: 1.2 K @ceramic-raven because you encouraged me to write a part 2. I hope you don't mind being tagged <3

Sitting in your small bathroom, you stared at a small patch that stared back at you.

21 mg. Nicotine. A beige-colored patch.

Just a minute ago, it had been adhered to your skin while you were sleeping, as if you had put it on yourself.

You don't smoke. You never smoked.

The only person you knew to smoke was Nikolai or Fukuchi, but you didn't know them to use patches. They only smoked socially, on good days when they could people watch or when Nikolai could show off vape tricks.

Fyodor had never dared to touch a cigarette, always claiming it as a hazard to his health. His lungs were probably as weak as the rest of his constitution, so you believed it.

So why the hell was it on your skin?

You wanted to ask him yourself, but he was sleeping.

Was it a good idea to wake him up?

You looked out into the darkness of your shared bed with Fyodor, looking at his sleeping form. His small frame was curled in a pile of blankets, curled against a feather pillow - like the princess and the pea, as you could see that he never looked truly comfortable.

The patch could be left for the morning.

He was smart. It must have had some sort of reasoning, shouldn't it?

Fyodor always found things out with almost no context needed. He could figure out the reason. You trusted him.

-

You had gone back to the bathroom. The patch was missing.

The trash, for once, taken out. In fact, it seemed the whole apartment had been meticulously cleaned.

You remembered that patch stared at you. The pain of removing it from your skin. How hard you had to pull it from your skin.

So where did it fucking go?

"Hey babe!"

You called for Fyodor, knowing that he was most likely working on the same projects that he always was. Whatever it was, he would be able to answer you, right?

There was no response from him this time though. You called again, but you were left with silence.

Padding towards his 'office space' you found that he had his headphones on. Was he busy today and hadn't bothered to tell you beforehand? Usually, he was rather meticulous about that.

Gently, you poked his shoulder, hoping to get his attention.

Fyodor only grunted, giving a sign of recognition. You tried again, hoping he would respond.

"Are you busy? I wanted to talk to you about something that happened last night."

Fyodor turned only slightly, his eyes still facing his screen - absorbed on whatever 'work' was on his screen. Code that you never bothered to learn to understand, that became a source of frustration as it seemed more important now.

"Yeah, what is it?"

Complete disinterest.

"I found like. A nicotine patch, last night. On me. Fyodor, that's weird, right?"

His eyes finally looked at you, although they were only glancing, at best.

"It is. You don't smoke, do you?"

"What?"

You took a moment to look at him. What the hell was he implying by that? He knew you never did. You always rejected them, since he was so sensitive to smells.

"If you do, you can tell me. I won't judge you."

His voice was soft, unjudgemental at the implication of you even having an addiction. You tried to keep calm through you frustration.

"I don't smoke. You know I don't, asshole! It's really weird that it showed up on my body like that, isn't it?"

You hoped he would help you. But he didn't even seem to care about your predicament so far, instead lazily moving typing commands on his keyboard like a sort of wizard.

"It is weird. If neither of us smoke, then how did it get there, hm? Maybe someone is playing a prank on you. Do you have the patch? We can figure out more about it from there."

He had leaned back, as calm about this conversation as anyone could possibly be. You wanted to kill him.

"It was on the bathroom counter when I took it off last night. I can't find it though!"

You couldn't help raising your voice at the end. For some reason, your frustration was building up so easily it was nearly boiling over.

It wasn't fair to take it out on Fyodor. He gave you a look as well, because well, you knew that you were being emotional about this.

It was just weird. Why was this upsetting you so much? You weren't usually upset so quickly like this.

"Sorry. But I'm being serious Fyo."

Trying your best to calm down, you took a deep inhale. Your lungs filled with air, clearing your head, if only a little.

There was still a frustration coursing through your veins, making you want to pull at Fyodor's hair for being so...well, him. Just being himself, right now.

Is he doing it on fucking purpose? Is he trying to piss you off as much as possible?

He's the smartest man you know, this isn't any real detective work. Fyodor knows why you're feeling the way you are. He can clearly tell that this actually happened - that you aren't fucking crazy.

So why is he acting like you are?

"Of course you are. I believe you, sweetheart. But what's the real problem here?"

His tired eyes slowly blinked at you. There was an emotion lurking in there, but you really didn't know how to describe it.

It was gentle, but not kind.

"Well. It was put on me. That means someone is drugging me. It's violating."

"I can see why you feel that way, yes. But maybe it was just an accident? People on the street these days are rather crazy-looney."

Fyodor had the gall to laugh as he said that, finding humor in his own words as he didn't find your plight worth crying over. There was no fret - being drugged was an everyday occurance.

Tomorrow you could be stabbed with heroin and it would just be an everyday occurrence, right? Worse things could happen to you. Maybe you would accidentally inhale deadly amounts of cocaine since this was just normal.

"Oh I can't believe you."

You left the room. At that moment you just wanted to punch Fyodor.

Did he always look that punchable? With his stupid smirk and pale, dead-looking skin. His eyes seemed so dead, with no read smile attached to them.

It was hard to look at him without feeling enraged.

"And where do you think you're going, sunshine?"

"Anywhere! If I have to see you again, I would probably. Oh!"

You made a noise as you kicked the door, rushing to just get out and get away from the source of your anxiety.

It felt natural, running outside and walking - letting the adrenaline in your body take you as far as it would let you.

Where were you going?

A hand on your arm stopped you. You turned around, the calm face that matched the pale skin - his dead purple eyes were smiling, although it made you stop dead in your tracks.

Where were you going?

You didn't have anything besides Fyodor.

"Please. Just leave me alone."

"You're being irrational, my dear. It's embarrassing."

The hold he had on your arm was tight, some hidden strength he carried that you never knew existed. Pulled did nothing, and there were tears pushing against your face as you felt the feeling again -

Trapped.

"Please. Fucking just. Let me go."

Shaking his head, Fyodor pulled you in - his face rested against your forehead, but the pull his hand had on his scalp was anything but gentle.

He was mad. About what?

Why did it always end up this way?

Honestly this can be stand alone, but YAY i finally finished this !!!! To the people who wanted this, I hope you enjoy this cuz this was kinda lot for me idk why.

[vacayisland]

Me sitting here head in my hands kicking my feet at that Clay request. Would you ever consider a part two where they have a heart to heart about how reader can improve their habits and Clay confessing?

@!; You're my "hole-in-one" (pt. 2) Clay / Nerdy! Reader

"Summary"! Please go read part 1 for context!! A part two to "You're my 'hole-in-one'" in which Clay has a heart-to-heart conversation with you and your habits; and accidentally lets his secret spill. "Tags"! Angst to Fluff- i literally forget to write these half the time when I'm done with a piece.. not even half the time, all the time- @mr-trick @writergal02 @chamille-trash @valvalentine69

@!; It had been a week since Clay had found you in such a desolate state; yet, after his attempted to calm you down worked (over time) and you seemingly didn't bring it up the next day, Clay dropped the topic. Don't get him wrong, Clay was still overly concerned about you and silently kept tabs on you to make sure you weren't over-working or over-thinking. Yet, he didn't bring up the topic, largely, to make you comfortable. He wasn't sure why you didn't bring it up to him the next day. That fact stuck in his mind like a bad splinter, as he couldn't help but overthink himself from time to time. Did he simply make you uncomfortable somewhere down the line, or made you think that you couldn't talk to him? Both situations made him feel down right nasty inside; He didn't want to make you feel like that, or even make you think about it! He knew a little what it felt like to have a person you cared for so much be a pillar you couldn't lean on. He actually knew a lot about that from his band days. The isolated feeling. The unsureness. The choking feeling you get by even thinking of trying to explain your feelings to someone you weren't comfortable with. . . It's all things Clay had gone through with John Dory just to make his older brother happy. And he would not let you suffer the same fate he had with his brother!

Yet he couldn't force you to talk either. Clay chewed at the inside of his cheek, trying to think about the possible ways he could bring this up to you; Giving you a side lance every to often as you sat at your desk, scribbling away on your little note pad with your favorite pen. You were okay right now, that put Clay at ease. Seeing your small smile and excited eyes mellowed out his own thoughts, it made him relaxed. Yet, it would only be a matter of time before that day flashed through his mind again and he remembered your state; Remembered the way you shook and the way you couldn't speak. They way you clung onto Clay desperately and wouldn't let go. Clay didn't want to see you like that again. . . but he didn't know how to begin such a delicate conversation in a way where it wouldn't upset you. Or in a way that could feel like any sort of deception. You should be able to open up to Clay when you felt like you needed to or could, he shouldn't pry information out! But. . . "Hey, (Y/N)?" Clay turned around to look at you once more. He watched as you perked up and looked at him, your smile slightly flattening in confusion. "Yeah? What's up Clay?" You said those words so simply, Clay felt a little jealous for being all choked up. Was he blowing this into bigger proportions than it should be? No, he doesn't think so; Your emotions and feelings were as important to him as. . . well, actually, they were more important to him than anything. And that's not something Clay ever thought or said lightly. "I'm going to take a break, okay?" So he opted for the safer version, taking an unscheduled break. Which, in it self, he knew you would be slightly suspicious of as Clay rarely took unscheduled breaks. "Oh!" You would pause for a moment, "okay?" Clay knew by the look on your face you were a little baffled but his sudden statement, that or concerned that he needed a break so out of the blue. Yet, when you didn't stop him, Clay took it as a signal that he should probably go instead of sitting here and staring at you. He hadn't even realized he had been doing that! You were certain you've never seen Clay leave the office that quickly, especially after nearly stumbling on himself to get to the door not even a foot away from the desks. You scrunched your eyebrows before slowly turning back to your work, which now seemed like a jumble of numbers in front of your eyes as you couldn't help but think about the way Clay left. His suddenness, his stumbling. . . Clay never stumbles! Tapping your pen against your desk, you couldn't help but hope you didn't ruin your relationship with the one Troll who understood you.

@!; "VIVA!" Okay, maybe bursting into Viva's home yelling and slamming doors wasn't the most logical approach to getting her attention, or how to bring up this situation Clay found himself in. And maybe it also wasn't the best solution to scare her, seeing as Viva now had fallen off her ladder and was bundled up in a pile of candy bracelets. "Oh.." Clay realized those facts now that he saw what situation he had put Viva in. He was quick to rush over and help Viva out of the mess he had created. "Sorry!. . . sorry." Though, thankfully, Viva didn't seem to mind. In fact, she was more concerned, a little curious, at Clay's current state. She was sure she had never seen the Troll so frazzled as he was now, and that's saying a lot seeing she's seen how 'boring' Clay can be in the shared admin box-office. "Clay, are you okay?" Viva would ask, frowning her eyebrows up, as she pushed away some of the hard candy at her feet; clearing a way for her to lead Clay and her towards her set of round couches. "I can't recall when I've seen you like this. Like, ever, dude." And despite her concern tone, Viva kept a small warm smile on her lips as she sat the two down on her couch; Keeping a gentle and comforting hand on his shoulder, feeling like he might need all the comfort he can get at this moment. Hell, she didn't even have to feel it to know he needed comfort! The moment Clay sat down he grew this pensive look, and his leg began to bounce in an anxious way. It made Viva grow a little nervous seeing her friend like this. Clay was usually so cool headed and strong, yet something was really prodding at him right now if he was this anxious about something. Or maybe he was upset. Or confused. Or concerned. Viva could slightly pick out a little bit of everything in Clay's expression, which made the pit at the bottom of her stomach grew. "Viva..." Clay started, in which he earned a nod and a hum from Viva. A small encouragement to go on, that she was listening. Yet Clay didn't know where to begin or how to begin or how to even frame the words he wanted to say. Surely if he told Viva about the way you had been last week she would be overly concerned about your mental well being, as she should. Yet then she would probably march over to the building and demand that you should take a break, get some rest, and return to work in 2-3 days time when you're feeling better. That, while Clay would appreciate Viva's concern (as it would also justify a little bit of his) , he knew couldn't happen. You're a smart Troll! You would piece two and two together and realize that Clay had gone to Viva for help and told her what happened and you might not trust him again! Thus he had to beat around the bush, despite knowing that Viva might also piece two and two together. . . or somehow call Clay out on his dancing and choosing words. "Viva I," And there was the choked up feeling again. "What I'm about to tell you, you have to promise me you cannot tell anyone. And when I mean you cannot tell anyone, I mean not a soul! I'm coming to you for advice and-" "Clay, I pinkie promise I won't tell a soul what you tell me." Viva cut Clay off, accidentally, yet firmly and sternly raised her pinkie up for Clay to accept. Pinkie promises were a serious deal. And when Clay, who sat there for a moment in thought, accepted Viva's pinkie promise, Viva added on, "I don't have anyone to tell this to anyway." with a smile and a small snort. Though Clay only frowned and scrunched his nose, "Viva I'm being serious here!" "Right! Right. Sorry. You have my full attention, I swear." Viva mumbled, noting the uncharacteristically stern way in which in which Clay spoke. Clay had always been a serious man, but he usually had a more light hearted tone when he spoke; It's how many Trolls in Put-Put Village had realize that Clay wasn't stuck up or boring, yet just a little different.

"Viva, I. . . the other week I found (y/n) in a desolate state. And I mean a really horrible state." Clay started, feeling horrible for telling Viva about this without your consent or even knowledge. Yet he needed help to be able to help you, and he needed it bad. "She was all shaken up and she was sobbing and shaking and- and I didn't know what to do at the time. So I helped her, at least I tried in the only way I knew how and that was through physical comfort and reassuring words and it worked! I think. "But, like, she hasn't talked about it since that day. She hasn't even mentioned anything about it and I'm getting worried about her and about the next time she will hurt like that. Viva, I don't want to see her hurt but I can't help her if she doesn't talk to me about it or doesn't want to talk to me about it. And I want to bring it up but I don't know how to. . ." Viva sat and listened as Clay just spewed everything bottled up in his big ol' brain for the first time since the event. It took a lot out of Viva to not mutter a comment, some sort of 'oh wow', at all the sudden information. But she did it! And now, the tougher part of the whole ordeal, giving Clay his needed advice.

@!; Clay came back into the office the day after his five minute break, which had you all nervous seeing as he never returned when he was meant to; something widely out of character for Clay. He tended to be rather punctual, especially when he leaves unfinished work at his desk and goes to take a break. Sure, he might not be jumping to rush back into work like you did, but he wasn't stalling either. Unless he had stalled to not come in yesterday after his break so he didn't have to see you. Which could be a bigger possibility as Clay didn't say good morning to you as he took a seat behind you at his desk. Your shoulders slumped at the possibility that your scene last week could have really pushed Clay away, you had hoped he would never see you like that. See you in such a state where you couldn't even talk or get your words out. In such a state that had driven people away before because it was self inducing and they just 'couldn't stand being around a Troll like you'. "Hey!" Clay snapped you out of your spiraling thoughts, placing his hands firmly on your shoulders. Your eyes darted up to his, you didn't even notice the fact that you had began to shake a little or how your eyes began well up with tears. But Clay noticed. Of course he had to notice. "Hey, hey, it's okay, what's wrong?... you know you can talk to me." Clay frowned, his tone laced with worry at seeing your state. Though all you could do was turn your head from him in some sort of feeble attempt to hide the tears you were wiping away. Clay frowned more at that, it hurt him to see you trying to hide away your tears from him. It hurt him to see that you weren't trusting him with your feelings, no matter how big or small they were. It hurt seeing you so upset that you began to choke on your own tears, which turned into sobs due to whatever horrible, nasty, horrific thoughts you were having in your head. He would give your shoulders one good rub before he reached up and cupped your cheeks, gently pushing your hands to the side so he could swipe your tears away with his thumbs. You tried pulling away from him, tried to hide the frustration and the unfair thoughts that stabbed your heart. Yet, no matter how much you tried to pull away, Clay's touch only pulled your heart towards him. And such, you found yourself sitting basically next to Clay, knees touching as you both sat as close as possible to each other while being on two separate chairs. It was quiet moment. With Clay gentle rubbing your tears away, cupping your cheeks like you were the most precious thing in the world to him. And you sitting in front of him, knees touching while you slowly looped your legs under Clay's. It just felt right, you didn't know why. Though you could see the suprise in Clay's eyes, he didn't reject your feet-holding. In fact, he gently rubbed his foot against yours in an attempt to soothe and comfort you. And it worked; for a moment, all those thoughts that clouded your head slowly left and let you just live in the moment of Clay's touch. In the feeling of his warmth and caring little gestures.

And the silence carried on for a moment, as Clay gauged how you were fairing before he dared to speak up. "Are you alright?" You only softly nodded in response, though Clay saw the way your frown spread further on your face. You were alright, for now, yet he could tell you were being troubled; horribly troubled. He wanted to help you. And he needed to be strong for you, no matter how much it was killing him inside to see you like this. "(Y/N). . . you can't keep going like this." Clay spoke again, causing you to glance up at him. You gave him a confused face, raising your eyebrow, before you realized what he was talking about. You felt your stomach churn as you waited for those nine words: I don't want to be friends with you anymore. Yet, they didn't come. Instead Clay took in a small breath before he continued with widely different words than what you were used to, "Please, tell me what's going on. I can't bare to see you so upset and down. I love your smile and the way you laugh, and I want to help you feel happy and overjoyed and fantastic and every other positive emotion that you deserve to feel. You're amazing so please, please let me help you..." And Clay waited for your response, wiping away any tears that fell down your cheeks attentively. He wasn't sure what to expect in response to you, this was new territory for him and he just hoped for the best. "So you're," And then you paused, taking a moment to collect your thoughts. Clay noticed the way your eyes flickered to the side, nerves pilling up in her by the second; He tried calming them, slowly tracing fluttery circles against your cheek with his thumb. He wanted you to remember he was here for you, that you didn't have to do this alone. Though he could see the doubt weaving in your eyes. Clay frowned as you wouldn't meet his eyes again, even more so noticing as you squeezed your hands together as though you were trying to crush them. In so, Clay moved one of his hands down to cup over yours. He didn't know was he was entirely doing. He was just trying to do what Viva had advised him to do; To be patient, to just sit and listen, and to take a notice on how you seemed to be fairing during the whole conversation, body cues and what not. Hopefully, Clay was doing enough to help you. That's all he wanted. "Clay I-" You let out a shaky sigh, feeling his thumb gentle brush against the top of your hands. "I'm sorry about... what happened. I didn't ever want you to see me like that and it's just, it's hard sometimes? I don't know. I just. I just never wanted to worry you I guess?" "Worry me?" Clay wasn't sure what he expected, but this wasn't on his predicted list. But, then again, Viva did mention something regarding your past and he should have taken that into consideration more than other factors. "(Y/N), I'm worried about you every day." "See and that's not what I want to happen because then you're just going to wear yourself out and!-" You began to ramble, Clay could tell old memories and thoughts were spiraling back in. He knew it was rude, to cut you off when you were opening up to him, but he needed you to let him finish. "Hey, hey listen to me! (Y/N).. I worry about you not because of last week- well that might have caused me to worry a lot, but not in the ways you think!" Clay paused, attempting to find his words. "(Y/N)... I care about you for more reasons than that. I care about you because you're an amazing person, because I want to see you happy, because I absolutely adore you. "And I know things might have been different in the past, but please trust my words when I say you are literally the most important person to me." At some point in his small ramble, Clay had taken both your hands into his and interlocked them. They rested at your knees, your attention drawn down to them for a second before glancing back up at Clay as you tried to process what he had just told you.

But, he continued, "And I know sometimes this job and life can be tough and it feels like you're letting everyone down and you can't do anything other than fail, but you cannot focus on that. I know you're strong, and I know you're more capable then what you might feel at times. You just... need someone to lean on and someone to trust without any sort of fear. "So please, let me be that person for you. Let me be able to listen to that mind of yours so you don't have to bear it alone." Clay smiled softly, having opted to look down at your intertwined hands due to nerves himself. He couldn't help but turn your hand to face his, slowly spreading open his hand to compare your palm sizes. He didn't notice until you started sniffling that you had began to cry again; In which he jerked his head up to look at you, seeing tears stream down your face by the dozen. Crap! Did he say something wrong? Clay let go of your hands and darted them up to start clearing your face of tears. "Hey, don't cry please, I'm sorry! Did I cross a line or say something wrong or?-" But you only shook your head, laughing a little at Clay's worry and panic. He felt as you cupped the back of his hands, which he tried to pull away in confusion when you had laughed, and placed them back against your cheeks. You leaned into his touch, and you seemed okay despite all the tears that ran down your cheeks. Clay was thoroughly confused yet kept his hands on your cheeks and his eyes on you, wondering what he could do to help. He didn't mean to make you upset. But you only laughed a little more before quizzing him, "Clay did you just confess to me?" "I- what?" Clay drew back a bit, his eyes widening as he tried to recall the words he had used to soothe you. He grew sheepish in finding the way he had worded things, now noticing it sounded like a confession more than friendly caring words. Clay's ears filled with you bursting out in laughter over his sudden realization, and despite how embarrassed he was he wouldn't have it any other way. He loved the sound of your laughter and he's been dying to hear it for about a week now; And it felt better knowing that he made you laugh. "I did.. didn't I?" Clay nervously chuckled along side you, rubbing the back of his heck with a hand he had drawn out from yours. And despite the stuffy and depressing feelings that had filled the little admin office before, all that could be felt in this moment was something kin to the only type of happiness your second half could bring. You took Clay's hand off your cheek and intertwined your fingers so you could hold his hand properly. "Would it be crazy to say that I accept this backwards confession?" "As long as you're ready to start trusting me with your emotions and we start working on improving your little habits." Clay quipped with a cheeky smile, which you hadn't been expecting. Yet you couldn't help but grin back at him, "Is that a pinkie promise I hear mister?" "To what? Love and cherish you?" Clay held out his pinkie to you, "Because I wouldn't want anything more than to be by your side, through the boring admin duties and all." You held out your own pinkie, wrapping it around Clay's as he did the same. "Then it's a promise."

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[tobiasdrake]

Hey there. I'm the anon who had that prediction as to why Gohan, Goten, and Trunks were written out of Daima's story. I just wanted to say that it's interesting that you bring them up, because I get the feeling that if Toriyama was given more leniency on doing more comedic/slice-of-life DB bits in the modern day, he'd be more willing to use the extended cast (the Saiyan-hybrids included).

Towards the end of his life, from Battle of Gods onwards, I don't get the impression that "leniency" was an issue. Toriyama seemed to be in the driver's seat.

The way he describes Battle of Gods is that he watched Dragon Ball Evolution, got super mad, stormed into Toei's office and demanded to know what they were making, then ripped up all their scripts because they were trash and rewrote Battle of Gods to be what he'd want a Dragon Ball movie to be instead.

(Which seems correct, it does sound like BoG was going to be trash. Beerus was supposed to be some sort of sentient alien disease that was singularly responsible for Saiyan cruelty. Saiyans were actually good guys all along and every bad thing they ever did was all because they were infected by Beerus. In a very weird way, Justin Chatwin's shitty Goku saved us from one of the stupidest things that would ever have been introduced to Dragon Ball media)

DBS then proceeded with Toriyama writing down his own notes for what he wanted the story to be and delivering them separately to Toei animation studios and to mangaka Toyotaro to flesh out and interpret for themselves.

Toriyama seemed to have a lot of creative control over Dragon Ball towards the end there.

It's just that. Well.

This wasn't "Toriyama in his prime, passionately writing the same manga he's been writing for the past few years".

This wasn't even "Toriyama burning out on Dragon Ball, trying to do something new, failing, and eventually just ending it" like in the Buu arc.

This was a much older Toriyama writing characters he hasn't touched in decades based on half-remembered important bits from his youth because he was mad about his work being misrepresented and wanted to set the record straight. He didn't have a crisp, clear picture in his head of all the ideas he'd once tried to pursue. At one point he famously forgot that Super Saiyan 2 even existed during interview.

So some of the jankiness in the revival materials comes from Toei this or Toyotaro that but some of it is also just the fact that Toriyama wasn't the same creator that he was when he first wrote the original manga.