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nightswithkookmin · 4 years ago

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You need to back up your ON break up theory with more than just fake subs and vague statements about 'claiming behavior'.

During the period you allege they were broken up, Jimin pulled Jungkook in a hug on run behind, Jungkook called Jimin sexy at a press conference, Jimin and jungkook did that whole 'how does it feel to be in the same unit'/'time to change' flirty thing, Jimin grabbed Jungkook by the lapels... and more. Begging pardon but if they were grieving the loss of their romantic relationship while trying to be professional colleagues and pals.... isnt that sort of insensitive? Like I know you admitting you might have read it wrong and have changed your view in light of new footage might be a blow to your ego, but I don't think you are thinking rationally when you insist on this break up theory. It's sad because I found so much meaning and connection in some of the stuff you have written, particularly pertaining to internalized homophobia, racism, mysogynoir and bts changing over time to become more enlightened, but your devotion to this ONE theory, and defensiveness whenever it is (rightly imo) challenged makes me wary of your theories in general, which might be extremely unfair to you, as a thinker. Your log is really funny and great in a lot of ways so i cant really quit you.

Ahhhh it's been a while I got one of these...

Hello, how you doing! Lol. Silver is that you?

Chilee, it's the name calling for me.

Ego, irrational, charlatan, Tuktukker- I'm desensitized to such ad hominems at this point. You don't throw words like these around and expect me to sit at the table and talk. Imma yeet myself out real fast. Lol.

There's just something different, wholesome almost, about this post though. Sounds constructive I think. Or maybe it's because I just woke. Chilee. Lol.

It doesn't feel at all like you are attacking me. It's strange...

You're gaslighting though but it's fine. I've built a resistance to that from years and years of dealing with my abductors or family. Potato potahto.

I often put my sanity before other's insanity which is why I don't indulge posts such as these and I'm not sorry about that. I mean is this an Ask or Submission? I don't- what am I supposed to say? What is the call to action?

Sigh.

If I come across as defensive sometimes, 10 out of 10, it's probably because the person on the other end is being offensive. Straight up. Cause and effect, the science don't lie.

You don't expect me to not defend when I'm being attacked. That's just tacky.

I don't think there's anything wrong with challenging views and notions because at the very least, that's about the exchange of ideas and I welcome it.

I set the limits at the racial slurs, the mocking tones, the emotionally charged rants meant to disparage me and my entire ancestry rather than argue a point, the interference with my personal life and business all because I hold a different view on a topic, the doxing, gaslighting, the bad mouthing, spreading lies about me, turning my friends against me, stripping away my rights and copyrights, harassing people who enjoy my work among- other things.

I usually exercise my right to self preservation in these instances- imma block, delete, ignore, forward or clap back. Word. Lol.

I'm sorry, but if you have to attack the individuality of a person to argue your point, you've lost the argument and you never had one to begin with.

Take for instance, the bit you wrote about me taking a blow to 'my ego' - do you see the problem with that?

What has holding a view different from yours on a particular subject got to do with the ego?

Do you mean to say the only way I can hold an opinion different from yours on a matter is if I were hubristic?

Are you projecting? What's happening? Lol

And if I call you out for this, I'm defensive? Way to add gaslighting to your bigotry and intolerance of opinions that don't align with yours. No offense.

I give myself permission to hold unpopular views. I give myself permission to think differently from others. I give myself permission to see what I see and believe what I believe and form an opinion on what I see and believe divorced from others' views and based on my own understanding of the workings of this world or in this case Jikook.

No amount of name calling will change this fact. We see things from different perspectives after all.

You need to back your ON break up theory with more than just fake subs and vague claims about claiming behavior.

Lol. Fake subs? You mean the Hajima bit from the On comeback special I put in my video? Interesting.

I think I see what you mean about my break up theory and I agree to some extent. Like, come up here with charts and paragraphs and excel spreadsheets on why I think Jikook were broken up?

I would be happy to do that kind of analysis.

I think the problem for me here is, I feel tasked to convince rather than to share my opinion on the matter or even expand on my theories for discourse sakes and that makes me really uncomfortable.

Not to psychoanalyze you, but I feel when you ask this of me you are not just asking me to divulge my thoughts on a topic but to disabuse you of your own biases surrounding the topic.

I don't think this is about my opinion at all. I think it's about your own beliefs about Jikook. And there's nothing wrong with that. If you believe in something you need to stand for it. Just don't mind if others do same and don't call them names for doing so. Because if you do mind, then that's bigotry.

The fact is my opinion contradicts your beliefs about Jikook and you either want to punish me for it hence the slurs, are in denial, or you want to believe my point of view- can't really tell.

I think there is a limit in general to how far I can prove Jikook in anyway and that has nothing to do with lack of evidence, my ego or my rationality. And yes, I often shroud my beliefs in vague expressions because I don't want to set myself up or open myself up to legal suits. I can only prove Jikook to a point and nothing beyond my belief. Beyond that, I would be skating on thin ice and making bighit a tad richer.

During the period you allege they were broken up, Jimin pulled JK in a hug, grabbed Jungkook by his lapel, JK called Jimin sexy, they did the flirty challenge...

So if I understand you correctly, all these is what makes Jikook a couple to you and indicate they are dating?

Alright then.

Hobi calls Jimin sexy all the time. BTS calls eachother sexy all the time. I don't think that's a sign they are in a polyamory.

Jungkook plays with his hyungs' dick and ass and talks about falling for them most times. I don't think that makes him gay or in a relationship with any of them.

Lemme just cut to the chase. I've reached my photo limits. I have said a countless times now, that I don't view skinship and all these interactions you've pointed out as indication two people are dating- especially not two Koreans working within the homoerotically charged space of Kpop.

And I have given out a few of the metrics I use in considering whether any ship in BTS is real over the course of my blogs- intimacy, exclusive behaviors such as and not limited to claiming eachother and exercising certain rights and authorities over eachother and against the group, stress trails as a result of keeping their relationship a secret, the microaggressions, breaching the fourth wall and others.

I think what this comes down to is differences in perspectives on a fundamental level. Not egos.

I don't see the things you see as the signs Jikook are real and dating, as signs Jikook are real and dating. If I did, I would be seeing every ship in BTS as real but I don't.

And you consider the metrics I use in ascertaining Jikook as vague something something. I think we are at an impasse.

But explain the bit about 'insensitive' to me please. I would love to engage in that discourse. Why would it be insensitive for two exes to act cordially with eachother within a workplace in the aftermath of a breakup?

Then the bit about grieving...

So grieving is one of your metrics for accessing whether or not two people are broken up?

That's interesting. I mean I don't disagree but I also don't think Jikook are gonna come to work with oversized pajamas, dark shades, boxes of tissues and a blanket slung over their shoulders because of a broken heart... it's 2020 not Manila. They've grown, are learning and getting better at dealing with their emotions on camera because, as Suga pointed out, they are aware the least bit of tension translates to the screens.

I mean Jimin said it himself in his 2020 interview, he's learned to react less intensely to certain things. And sometimes, he tries to downplay certain things. He tries to perform Jikook when Jikook are not in a great place. It's only in recent times, On era, where JK has opted out and not gone along with it.

I think he does that and uses their shared 'Jikook agenda' and performances of Jikook as a means to fix things or break the ice between them at least.

But clearly Jk wasn't having it that day as he kept putting up boundaries with Jimin throughout that Run episode- unless of course you are disputing this as well on the grounds Jimin dragged his ass into a hug. Chilee.

I think most people wouldn't have felt there was something off with Jikook in that On period at all had it not been for Run 116. It's similar to how, had it not been for Jimin's birthday saga, the Esquire shoot behind scenes and Grammy reaction video, no one would have felt there was something going on between Jikook in the October timeline.

I think we would have seen and felt the less interactions and professionalism between them in the aftermath of it but for the most parts, moments like the couch scene in the Grammy reaction video wouldn't have made sense to any of us especially as we had just witnessed JK in the ON:E concert rushing to comfort and console JM when he was tearing up at the end of the concert.

At least when he pushed JM into a ditch somewhere in the dark in Soop we know he had been drinking and they were playing competitive sports. Even with that he still showed some concern when Jimin fell and injured himself afterwards.

I think we would all be wondering if Jikook were fanservice at that point, a fanservice relationship where JK only consoled Jimin when he cried infront of thousands of people at concerts and nibbled his ear while he was at it.

And I think we would be on opposite sides of the argument: me, arguing Jikook were experiencing a hiccup in their relationship and you, rationalizing that moment with anything from 'JK don't have to be at JM's beck and call' 'he is an introvert who is shy to show affections publicly' to even something about the weather.

But I would have looked at this moment from the October pop up video behind scenes and assumed JK was mad at Jimin for something JM had done and had done something in retaliation and was now feeling sorry he did.

And I would have based it off of this moment, or a countless similar ones from around On era or the previous eras where JK had done this exact same thing- frozen in place and staring at Jimin in the middle of a shoot or interview after sliding his hands down Tae's chest, clung on to the others unnecessarily to get a reaction out of JM.

Would I have been right? It really doesn't matter to me as long as it makes sense to me. I ship Jikook in a way that makes sense to me. Jikook are gay, in a gay relationship with each other and are human like anyone of us- that makes sense to me. Whether I am right or wrong.... who cares and why does it matter?

Personally, I think the only person grieving in that period was JK not JM and I don't think he grieved for long before he switched off his humanity and went stone cold tit for tat terminator on JM and BTS's ass. Lol. He had JM looking all kinds of subdued in that era. Lmho.

People grieve in various ways. In my opinion. For Jimin, I feel he puts on a strong facade most times when he has to film during such times and lately I feel he masks his emotions with anger.

Jk masks his pain with anger too sometimes but I feel in recent times, he is leaning more towards indifference. I think he tries not to be as affected by certain things as compared to the early half of 2020...

But I understand what you mean when you talk about grieve. I think for me rather than look for physical evidence of grief like a sad face, a tear drop dripping down a face, I love for vulnerability in them.

JK's is easy to tell because he tends to open himself up to others such as Tae or Jin or Hobi- and I don't mean like his interactions with them. I mean he leans on them for moral or emotional support.

In the Holiday remix video where he was hiding behind Jin, I felt he was feeling very vulnerable and exposed after that intense moment with Jimin.

It's what he does when he is feeling vulnerable. He turns to others especially Jimin and if Jimin is the cause of his vulnerability he turns away from him like he did within On era or even in Run 116.

When he is in a good place with Jimin, often he is closed off to the others. Jimin does the opposite. He shuts himself up entirely from the group. I don't think he likes to go through his pain by himself.

I've always found that bit fascinating about them. Jk opens himself to people when he is at his lowest while JM closes himself off when he is at his worst.

It played out in their rainy day fight as well. In JK's vulnerability, that's when he let Jimin in, lowering his walls while JM on the other hand closed himself off to him.

Can you give me more than they were together in that period because they played with eachother's lapels?

You don't think I'm thinking rationally when I insist on my theory? Uhmmm... okay? What is rational in this case?

Listen, I recieve a lot of hate for my 'irrational thoughts and opinions' out in these streets. I've lost potentially great friendship on this platform because of it. As I type this, there is someone in someone else's DMs persuading them not to read and engage with my posts because I'm extremely evil I think Jikook break up from time to time in their relationship.

If I genuinely believed in the slightest least or had the least doubt that Jikook were together in that period I would change my mind on the topic- damn my pride and ego. It simply isn't worth the hustle.

If it helps your sanity, please stop reading my blogs. My blogs are not for everyone. It makes some people happy, it makes some people mad and some people experience both.

My gratification is in sharing my thoughts and chronicling Jikook's journey for my own appeasement and support of Jikook. I owe it to them as a believer and a supporter to humanize them as much as possible.

I do not seek to convert others, change minds, or convince anyone of my opinions or to disabuse anyone of theirs.

Let's just agree to disagree on the matter please. Or if you can drop the ad hominems, I would be more than happy to go back and forth with you on this very topic. It's actually shaping out to be one of my favorite Jikook eras. I love me some terminator JK. Lol.

Signed,

GOLDY

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deobienthusiast · 5 years ago

Text

office love

• pairing: lee jaehyun (the boyz) x reader

• word count: 1,684 words

• genre: fluffy, slight humor

• warnings: slightly suggestive

• notes: imagine working in an office with the boyz tho👀

requested: yes | no by @q-ianna

You always told yourself that you would never be one of those 9-5 office workers that sat in a cubicle all day long. You wanted to travel and see the world. Little did you know, that to travel the world, you needed to be seated in that cubicle. For four years, you have been working in the same cubicle with the same 12 co-workers, one of whom stood out to you more than the rest.

Lee Hyunjae was quite the character. With such an upbeat personality, he was the life of the office. Hyunjae was the first person you met when you started working at the office. He liked to be the center of attention. Not that you minded. Hyunjae made you feel so welcome when you first started to work here. He talked you through everything, would partner up with you for certain jobs, and even take you out for lunch or dinner, depending on how late the day became. You two built up quite the friendship, and along the way you developed feelings.

According to your other coworkers, Hyunjae felt the same way. You never believed them, however, the now constant flirting and small sexual innuendos that had made their way into your daily conversations with Hyunjae made you question whether he did feel the same way or not. Hyunjae was naturally a flirt, but he only just started to flirt with you. Maybe he was interested.

“Hello,” Juyeon, your coworker, said as he waved his hand in front of your face. “Are you even listening to me?”

You shook your head, snapping back into reality as you looked at the dark-haired boy. “I’m sorry, Juyeon. Did you say something?”

Juyeon huffed before following where your gaze was currently focused. He looked back at you and smirked. You raised an eyebrow at him before speaking.

“What?” You asked him.

He chuckled. “You know what? You were checking out Hyunjae.”

You rolled your eyes. “No I wasn’t.”

Juyeon scoffed. “Yeah sure.”

You turned back around in your chair so your back was to him before hearing someone speak.

“You know,” You heard a soft voice exclaim. “ You could just tell Hyunjae you like him. Rather than ogle him like a horny schoolgirl.”

Your eyes widened as you looked up at the top of your cubicle and made eye contact with Jacob. Jacob was a more soft-spoken worker. He wasn’t overly loud or insanely crazy, though he did have some spurts of wild in him every now and then.

“Will you shut the hell up!” You stated, making both Juyeon and Jacob laugh.

You went to focus back on your computer before hearing Juyeon speak.

“You know he feels the same way,” He started.

“Bullshit.” You countered, keeping your eyes on your computer screen.

Juyeon eyed you for a moment before giving a look to Jacob who disappeared back behind the walls of your cubicle. You worked diligently and quietly, unbothered by Sunwoo and Eric’s daily shenanigans before feeling a tap on your shoulder.

“I’m hungry. You want to go get some lunch with me?” Hyunjae asked.

You exited out of the spreadsheet you were working on as you turned around in your chair, a smile growing on your face when you made eye contact with Hyunjae.

“Yeah,” You stood you, grabbing your coat. “Let’s go.”

Hyunjae smiled at you as he waited for you to gather your things. You threw a goodbye to Juyeon and Jacob as you walked out the door, not being able to miss the snide ‘be safe’ that came from Juyeon which you knew for a fact had a double meaning.

You and Hyunjae decided on a little café just a couple of blocks from the office as you both got comfortable and ordered.

“So, how's the workload today?” Hyunjae asked.

You looked at him with a raised brow as you smirked. “You took me out to lunch to talk about work?”

Hyunjae chuckled, smiling. “Okay you caught me. How was your date last week? I’ve been meaning to ask.”

You nodded with a tight smile. “It was good.”

He snorted. “And by good, you mean terrible?”

You let out a laugh, making Hyunjae grin. “You can read me so well. He was insanely self absorbed. All he did was talk about himself. I’m never letting Changmin set me up with one of his college buddies again.”

Hyunjae took a sip of his drink as he nodded. “Changmin isn’t too fond of that guy anyway.”

You almost choked on your coffee. “Thanks for telling me that now.”

Hyunjae laughed. “You could always avoid getting set up on blind dates if you just find the right guy.”

“And is that your way of saying it should be you?” You looked up at him over the lid of your coffee cup, catching his strong gaze.

“Maybe it is.” Hyunjae said.

Your breath hitched in your throat at his tone. It was a questionable one as you couldn’t tell whether he was being a tease or being serious. Part of you hoped he was serious. You both ate and drank your coffees in silence before throwing away your trash. You wrapped yourself back in your coat before feeling Hyunjae grip your hand.

“Come on you. You’re taking too long.” He said with a teasing smile as he pulled on your hand.

Without realizing it, you two had managed to make it back inside the office hand in hand as Hyunjae walked you to your cubicle. You both were laughing at something Hyunjae had said about Sunwoo as you say in your chair. Hyunjae peeled off his jacket as he made his way over to his cubicle.

You logged into your computer before hearing someone clear their throat. You looked up and met the warm eyes of Jacob as he smiled.

“Someone had fun at lunch.” Jacob said with a grin.

You looked at him. “And what are you implying?”

He shrugged as he held his head up over the cubicle wall to look down at you.

“Something obviously happened.” You heard Juyeon counter behind you.

“Says who?” You said without turning around.

“Says the hand holding when you two walked through the door.” Jacob said before falling back into his seat when he saw your boss come out of his office.

You kept yourself busy as he walked around each cubicle, looking over the work. He studied Hyunjae for longer than usual as he tapped his shoulder before heading back to his office. You heard Hyunjae sigh as you watched him make his way to your boss’ office. The office stayed quiet, trying to listen in on the conversation before the door swung open. It was closed gently as you all watched Hyunjae stand outside the door. He took a deep breath before loosening his tie and heading for the break room.

You turned yourself around, trying hard to concentrate on the spreadsheets on your screen before giving into the nagging temptation to go check on him. Scooting back your chair, you quickly made your way to the break room. As you approached, you saw through the blinds, Hyunjae with his head in his hands.

You knocked on the door, closing it behind you as you entered. “Are you okay, Jae?”

Hyunjae lifted his head to look at you and smiled. “My consumer report came back. It’s not looking too good.”

You frowned, sitting down next to him. “That can’t be right. You’re our best salesman.”

He shook his head. “I guess I’ve been a little distracted this quarter.”

It was your turn to laugh as you watched him stand up and grab yet another cup of coffee. You watched him add an unreasonable amount of sugar that was likely to put him on the ground as he mixed it. He stared at the sugar coffee as you stood up, reaching for the glass.

“Okay, first. Don’t drink this,” You told him, pulling the glass away from him. “Second of all, what could possibly have you so distracted that you went from top of the sales to bottom of the sales faster than Jacob goes through the cereal?”

Hyunjae smiled before looking back at you. It was another look you weren’t used to, it was almost an admirable look.

“You,” He whispered quietly, hoping you wouldn’t hear him.

You cocked your head. “What?”

He repeated it, louder this time. “You. You’re distracting me.”

You felt yourself get slightly offended. “What do you mean I’m distracting you?”

Hyunjae could tell by your tone that you didn’t understand what he was saying as he decided to take matters into his own hands. He grabbed your hand, pulling you into him as he kissed you. You kept your arms on his chest, putting tension on your palms, almost as if you were trying to push him off before bringing them up to wrap around his neck. Hyunjae pulled away first, leaning his forehead on yours as he spoke through heavy breathing.

“You know, I would be good for you. I know so much about you. Too much if I may add,” You hit his chest as he continued with a laugh. “But I know for damn sure, I can treat you a hell of a lot better than anyone that those idiots out there try to set you up with.”

You grinned at him. “Could you now?”

He nodded as he leaned by your ear, nibbling on the lobe before whispering. “And I am confident that I could touch you better as well.”

You bit your lip to stifle your laughter as Hyunjae tightened his grip on you.

“Well then, I guess we’ll need to test that before I think about giving you a chance on a first date.” You said, feeling yourself being moved forward as you heard the break room door lock.

You giggled as Hyunjae closed the blinds. “Just try and keep the noise level down.”

You kissed him again as he lifted you on top of the small table. “Whatever, Hyunjae!”

Juyeon and Jacob would not let you live this down.

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takaraphoenix · 4 years ago

Text

Three reasons for the following post:

I’ve been asked why I’m still active on FFNet occasionally, because well, AO3 is around and FFNet seems to be “dying” out.

I feel like - considering all of the “comment more!” posts going around - that I am not the only one who feels like feedback in the form of comments on AO3 isn’t too strong.

Pretty sure I’m not the only one who likes hard numbers and statistics so there might actually be someone out there who appreciates this.

+ 1. I like lists and I like talking about lists.

Now what this post actually is. This post is going to be an observation of response-difference between FFNet and AO3, based on hard numbers and not just feelings of there being less response.

There’s a thing that I used to do pretty regularly and now try to do about once a year, if I remember. I like lists and I like numbers and I like keeping track of things, so in 2013, I started keeping tracks of comments on fics. It has since then served me as a good indicator to popularity and, honestly, I just like lists.

I started a spreadsheet where I put all my multi-chapter fics down on, what fandom they are from, what the main pairing is, the number of chapters and the total number of comments - as well as the all comments/chapters average.

I’ve seen posts on here, on tumblr, about how the commenting moral on AO3 is lacking and I’ve been asked why I’m still on FFNet and I’ve always had that feeling that commentors on FFNet are more active than on AO3 when I did this year’s update on my spreadsheet, I figured that the hard numbers on that might be interesting.

So the following is a cut version of my spreadsheet. What I cut out were all fics written/posted prior to June 2014, because that is when I got my AO3 account and it would mess with the data to include fics that may have had years of advantage over on FFNet. The third collumn labeled “Nr.” indicated when it was written - Nr. 35 means this was the 35th multiple-chapter fic I wrote, so you can vaguely sort that among itself; 35 has of course been longer around than 75 so it has had overall more time to gain comments. Then number of chapters, total number of comments on FFNet, total number of comments on AO3, the sum of those both, and the /Chap, the chapter-average comment count.

I decided to highlight the fics where the different in comments on FFNet and AO3 are significantly - meaning by at least double the other number - differently. Red means that in this case, numbers on AO3 are at least twice the number on FFNet. Blue means FFNet has at least twice as many total comments than AO does.

All red fics are from the Voltron, Shadowhunters, Marvel and Arrowverse fandoms.

Which makes perfect sense to me. Voltron and Shadowhunters (show-specific) are both new fandoms, fandoms born after AO3 has been established and long around. Where new people were attracted to who might have never even gotten an FFNet account to begin with because, as readers and writers, they were born into the AO3 era.

The MCU and Arrowverse are both fandoms that are tricky to navigate and work with on FFNet due to how limited and separate the crossover function on there is; AO3 was designed with such fandoms in mind and with making access to them very easy, so it figures that for both of those, AO3 is much more popular.

And it’s only about roughly two or three times as many on AO3 as on FFNet; which are still insane numbers, but now let’s look at the blue ones.

My most popular fic to date, Meet the di Angelos, has six times the amount of comments on FFNet than it does on AO3. 1033, compared to 167.

Three times, four times, five times as much. Royal Carries is with 262 to 17 at fifteen times the amount of comments. Fifteen.

They’re all Percy Jackson fics. All of them. A fandom I’ve been a part of since 2010, a fandom that predates AO3 (and actually partially even FFNet, because the first fics were back on LiveJournal) - and the enthusiastic, feedback giving fandom olds are still sticking around on FFNet.

So, that’s my analysis on that. Yes, you might find more enthusiasm for new things on AO3, because the site itself is new, but for older fandoms, the crowd is still around and rather vocal on FFNet.

That is why I am sticking around on FFNet. Because that’s where the majority of my audience is still.

And I do want to make one thing clear; this isn’t just a pure numbers competition. This isn’t just about “what got more total”. It’s about the feedback, the enthusiasm something is being met with. It’s about what those numbers represent; people who felt the need to share with the author what they thought and what they liked and what they may want more of, people who actively expressed their enthusiasm and motivated me, the author, with their kind and encouraging words.

Numbers are just the means to quantify this and also, seriously, I love a good list. And I also love looking at this, seeing that no, that “feeling” I had about it wasn’t actually just in my head, it’s true. In my biggest fandom, the people who met my stuff with loud enthusiasm were indeed with a vast majority on FFNet.

(But yes, I admit, hard numbers do help me orient where I am going with my writing. If something gets overwhelming feedback, it will get more attention from me too and if a trope/ship really works, I do feel more inclined to write it again. I feel like that’s kind of obvious, but yeah.)

#AO3 #FFNet #Commenting #Fanfiction #Statistics #pls don't think I'm weird #I mean I am #but spending a whole day #tracking these numbers #and putting them in a spreadsheet #is very very calming for me #I like doing that #these things relax me #and I love making lists because of that #it's a weird quirk of mine don't judge

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But putting these accounting shenanigans aside, let�s see what the more conservative calculation of a 16. 4% return means. If I had invested my $186,000 into the S&P500 last July, I would have gained 5% ($9,300) as that�s the amount the index was up over that period. Just a month earlier, that number would have been in negative territory as the index was lower. In contrast, I locked in my revenue after each options trade was closed. I love that my profit is a real number added to the cash portion in my brokerage account rather than an abstraction based on the market trending higher. Another point to note regarding the capital at risk is that it doesn�t need to be sitting in your account in the form of cash. It will absolutely provide peace of mind if that�s the case, but you can invest it as you like to boost your returns. When I started this a year ago, my broker was paying me 1. 9% for idle USD in the account, so I was quite happy leaving it. However, that�s obviously not the case anymore, with interest rates at zero. But I could allocate that money into some safe dividend stocks and boost my returns that way. Which is somewhat the approach I�m taking. My Path ForwardTrading options may sound sexy, but it�s pretty tedious. I�ve entered over a thousand executions into my spreadsheet this past year, which is something I LOVE doing. I used to have to make manual trade confirmations at work. Now I do it to record my profits!I feel like a kid counting pennies added to his piggy bank. Except this one pays to feed my family!That said, the more you learn, the more you realize how little you know. And that�s how I feel right now. Rather than patting myself on the back for profiting this past year, I feel hesitant to be proud. I realize how little I know and that I�m merely scratching the surface of the knowledge I need to feel fully confident in trading options for a living.

what does trading options mean Arkansas Why is that important?

I even wore a necktie once in a while to feel important while doing it.

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Not surprisingly, I GOT SICK of pushing the damn buttons. And I fantasized about making money from home instead. I read success stories of people starting a side hustle that allowed them to quit their job. I even knew a couple. But I couldn�t figure out what my side hustle superpower could be until I stumbled upon options trading. Trading options was something I considered for people with insane levels of intelligence. And unfortunately, that isn�t me. When I took the GMAT exams to apply for grad school, I scored in the top ten percentile for verbal (Yaaaay English Lit Class!) but the bottom ten for math. People were shocked when they found I worked in finance. Not surprisingly, I didn�t end up applying for grad school�But I said f*ck it. I�m gonna see if I can learn this options trading thing. And a year after trying it out, I�ve made $29,753. Here�s how it all went down. Discovering Stock OptionsI love reflecting on significant life changes you can pinpoint to a single event � that so-called fork in the road. In this story, it was a chance meeting with my first boss in the financial industry. The guy that mentored and taught me how to trade stocks in the first place. For the purpose of this post, I�m going to refer to him as Suzy. While at work one day, Suzy reached out, saying he was in Hong Kong with his family (where I was working at the time) and wanted to catch up for a beer. I had completely lost touch with him ever since he left the industry a few years prior to this meeting. I was both excited and curious to see what he was up to. After the usual formalities and a beer in, I asked him. He responded by saying, �I trade options for a living. �I was confused. My face resembled a deer in headlights doing a Derek Zoolander impression. He tried to explain the gist of it, but it was way over my head. All I could think of were the words �I trade options for a living� as I furrowed my eyebrows for the rest of the night. And then I went back to my button-pushing existence the next day. But this thing about options trading kept tugging at me in the back of my mind. I spent a few months reading up on it to understand some basic concepts. Once I felt I knew just enough to ask some not completely retarded questions, I emailed Suzy. For the next two years, I read through some pretty heavy and dry material while taking extensive notes.

options trading alerts Arkansas My introduction to options was selling them.

The risk of long calls and long puts is that the price fails to move far enough in the right direction, and the options expire worthless or fail to cover the full cost of the premiums, resulting in a trading loss on the position. Bull Call SpreadA bull call spread involves the purchase of call options at one strike price and the writing of the same number of call options with the same expiration date but a moderately higher strike price. The profit from a bull call spread is maximized when the price of the security reaches slightly under the strike price of the written options, so that the written options expire worthless while the purchased options can be exercised for the maximum value within the window of the written options expiring worthless. The downside in a bull call spread is protected when both options expire worthless, but the premium gained from the written options helps to reduce the loss from the premium paid for the purchased options. Bull call spreads are used when a trader has confidence in the direction of an upcoming price change, but not in its intensity. If a trader foresees only a small increase in the price of a security, then they can capitalize on that small increase by purchasing call options while also limiting any potential downside and reducing the cost of the premiums paid by writing options at a higher strike price that is unlikely to be reached. The downside to the bull call spread is, of course, that any potential upside beyond the projected price increase is limited due to the corresponding increase in the cost to cover the written call options. Bear Put SpreadA bear put spread is the exact opposite of a bull call spread, where the trader purchases put options and also sells the same number of put options with the same expiry date but a moderately lower strike price. The profit from a bear put spread is maximized when the price of the underlying security reaches slightly above the strike price of the written put options, which means that the written options expire worthless while the value of the purchased options is maximized within the window of the written options expiring without value. The downside to a bear put spread is limited to the premium paid for the purchased options less the premium gained from the written options, which occurs when both of the options expire worthless. Traders use the bear put spread when they want to bet on a moderate decline in the price of a security. The premiums gained from the written options help to offset any potential losses if the security fails to fall in price significantly, and they are added to the profits if the price falls within the window of the written options expiring without value. However, the upside to a bear put spread is limited by the cost of the written options increasing as the security continues to fall in value past the written put options� strike price. Option Strategies StraddleA straddle option strategies involves the purchase of call options and put options at the same strike price, usually the current price of the security, and the same expiration date. Long StraddleA straddle option trade will profit when the price of the security changes enough in either direction to compensate for the cost of both the call options� and put options� premiums. Option traders use the straddle options strategy when they are unsure about the direction of an upcoming price change, but are confident in the intensity of the price change. While this kind of situation can arise for a variety of reasons, straddles are most often used when there is a significant event that is set to occur on or around a specific date. Press conferences and news releases are common events where traders expect significant price changes, but are not confident about the direction of the price change. Straddles can offer relatively low cost access to substantial profits with little downside risk, which is merely that the price change is not significant enough to cover the cost of both premiums. StrangleA strangle options strategy is similar to a straddle, but it uses the simultaneous purchase of call options and put options at different strike prices. This spread in the strike prices means that the underlying security needs to move more substantially for one of the options to be in the money, but the premium cost for purchasing the options is lower in the case of a strangle because the options are purchased out of the money. An option trader will use the strangle options strategy when they believe that the upcoming price change will be significant, but they are unsure of the direction. This situation occurs in the same sort of events as are popular for the straddle strategy, but the trader is more confident that the change in price will be extreme. The strangle can expire worthless, unlike a straddle, but the lower initial outlay on premiums means that a strangle may actually cost loss in the event of a loss than a straddle will with only a small change in price. The strangle also has a much stronger upside potential due to the lower initial premium cost and the greater potential value increase for options that were purchased out of the money. ButterflyThe butterfly options strategy involves the sale of call or put options at a given strike price, usually at the current price, matched by an equal number of purchased call or put options equidistant from the strike price. For example, if a trader sold 2 call options at $40, they would buy one call option at $45 and another at $35 to match the 2 written options sold. In this example, the loss from the trade would be maximized at either $35 or $45, while the trade would be profitable somewhere between the $35 to $45 range. The profit from the butterfly position would be maximized at $40. Options traders use the butterfly option strategy when they wish to bet on little or no upcoming price change. The purchased options act as a form of insurance against major price changes, putting a ceiling on the potential losses from the trade.

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how to get approved for options trading td ameritrade Arkansas One of the main concepts in trading options is �rolling,� and it�s something I had to learn when the market dropped significantly enough to put most of my trades underwater, just a month into trading.

6% for a total annual return of 16.

youtube options trading strategies Arkansas 2 and protect myself at $90 (10% below the market).

Many options traders consider themselves to be in the insurance industry. I was in awe as I read the book: The Option Traders Hedge Fund. The central premise from the author is how an options trader is a one-person insurance company, operating a solo business. The insurance business is summed up in a few bullet points:Calculating the risk for insurance policies soldReceiving adequate premiums for those insurance policiesPurchasing �re-insurance� to protect against tail-end risks like natural disasters, e. g. , flooding.

the bible of options strategies the definitive guide for practical trading strategies Arkansas In a single day, a call or put can go down over 80%.

I sell a short-term, two-week insurance policy to a holder of Nike shares to protect his investment at $95 (5% below the current price).

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oliviasugarbabe · 5 years ago

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i hope im not bothering you, but im a fandom writer and im greatly interested in the sugar baby lifestyle, so i was hoping to ask a few questions! is the stereotypical lifestyle of a sugar baby exaggerated or is it genuinely like that for some? is there something that most people don’t understand about with the relationship and what goes on, or is it as simple as it is portrayed in the media? do you have any tips when writing about being a sugar baby? thank you very much, i appreciated it! 💓

Not at all babe! I haven’t made a post like this yet so let me just write out a whole response about this stuff! I have lots to say to bear with me haha. I know you’re asking for your writing but I get constant questions about if sugaring is really this easy great glamorous thing from those thinking about doing it so I’m just gonna cover it all.

Yes the stereotypical lifestyle of a sugar baby is exaggerated, it’s not as simple as hopping on an app and getting a date with a reasonably attractive older man who will shower you with money and gifts for nearly nothing in return. I always tell girls this! It looks more like being active on multiple apps/sites and/or freestyling. It looks like hours upon hours on your phone perfecting your profiles, chatting with men who often will be time-wasters with no intention of spoiling you, and tons of dates with time-wasters too. Also, hours of screening men to make sure they’re legit. An insane amount of grooming yourself. Nails, hair, waxing/shaving, teeth whitening, exfoliating, moisturizing, soft feet, gym, perfume, makeup, cute lingerie, not getting the tattoo you want, even perhaps fillers and plastic surgery (I have tattoos and no surgery and I’m not skinny, but I know I’m giving up lots of rich older traditional men by looking this way) Having a spreadsheet to keep track of the lies you tell to each man (honestly that part is fun for me tho) and just way more work than you’d think from the popular stereotype.

Lots of men won’t give you the money you want, and it can take a long time to find a guy who will and you might not even like him. Sugaring also includes fucking old, wrinkly men like a porn star and 100% making them think you love it. They’ll do weird shit like lick your whole face and you gotta pretend that’s fine too. These are rich, often white, privileged men from a generation and brotherhood that often look down on women and you have to fake the correct personality with each one. Can you drop everything to travel with him? Can you come up with a lie for your parents/roommates/friends? Can you say “no” to bareback sex in a cute way? Answer his call/text when you’re in bed and just wanna be left alone with Netflix? Ask for money without being nervous? Can you keep the conversation going on a date if he’s boring and awkward as hell? Giggle when he shits on your generation and other women? Not feel guilty about his wife he’s cheating on? Lie to everyone you know? Read on the internet about how disgusted some people are about what you do for money? Be seen with him in public? Be spotted by someone you know? Sure, these things are technically optional; you can just refuse every man who isn’t perfect, but a lot of women on here are afraid to talk about the fact that when you’re doing this because you need money, there are often tradeoffs and boundaries crossed in order to get paid, because that’s what sex work often is. I think it’s glamorized a lot and that ultimately hurts sex workers. I need breaks sometimes when I can’t take it anymore and I don’t have a current “main” daddy. Sex work has also done serious damage to my desire to EVER be in a normal relationship with a man, get married, or have kids. I already pretty much hated men but now I hate them more lmao.

Lastly, like any sex worker, you perhaps will have to live with the constant risk of being outed to your family and friends, and the risk of having one of these men do something horrible to you.

But yes, some girls DO live that lifestyle we dream of but it’s rare and hard to find and these women are often models or at least look like ones, live in the right cities, have the right connections, etc and just have access to that shit in ways that I don’t and many women don’t. Privilege still shows its face in the sugar bowl! Truthfully, there’s generally, for most of us, more money in escorting. Way more payoff for your time. I’d rather just have sex and leave with my hourly rate than spend all this time and energy being a whole girlfriend most of the time if I’m being honest.

As for what the relationships are like, refer to the details above lol! Aside from that I should say I’ve had some good relationships but they’re men like any other. I deal with neediness, clinginess, condescension, etc a lot. They’ll flake on dates. Resist spending money just when you thought they might be a serious daddy. And again, it’s not just about being young and attractive. You usually also have to be interesting, smart but not too smart, sexy but not slutty, fuck like a porn star, confident, and sometimes, not show much that you’re a real person. Like, you can cry in front of a real boyfriend. If you cry in front of your sugar daddy, you might get dropped like a hot potato. You know what I mean? Be a perfect girl on his arm, or he’ll find someone else. Some daddies are good men sure and not like this, but still, lots of sugar daddies are part of a certain lifestyle and attitude and they expect something specific in return for their money.

Lastly, writing about sugaring and sex work is something I do for fun and to be a part of my own community and to give honest word about sex work. I think that writing about sex work is best left to sex workers. Fandom writing is fun and harmless tho! If you’re gonna write about us, you made a good start finding someone who is actually in that world to ask about it! Sex workers write books and blogs about this life and I recommend finding them. There are a lot of inaccurate, shitty, harmful portrayals of us out there and I hope you do whatever you can to not contribute to that! Although....if you’re writing a sexy fanfic or something I feel like it’s fine either way cause I’ve gotten hot and bothered by all kinds of severely problematic wattpad stories and such so like. Anyways, if you want me to keep helping you, you can DM me and I’ll answer your random writing questions. I understand completely why people are drawn to writing about sugar baby lifestyles, it’s just not always what they wanna hear. I hope your piece comes out good! I’d love to read it if you wanna share eventually!

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malinkamax · 5 years ago

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What is luxury?

When you see a $250 burger on the menu, first reaction most likely would be: “WTF?” , ”RIDICULOUS!” "Only a ____ person would buy that." (What word did you use? Arrogant? Elitist? Jackass? Dumbass?)

Sure, you could take that approach and insult people who spend a lot on something. That’s what most people do. Or you can say, “Hmm… Who actually buys this and why?"

As a general rule, people who spend 100x more than other people are not stupid. There’s something else going on here. Something that almost nobody talks about.

…Lets take a look into the world of LUXURY.

Luxury is one of those things that makes us feel happy, sad, angry, and jealous - all at the same time. Yes, think about it… For example, who the hell walks into a Tom Ford store and buys a $6,000 dress or suit…on a Wednesday? $6,000 for just ONE suit! Just thinking about spending that much money on clothing makes some people cringe. But notice that if you were given this suit for free - the same suit James Bond wears that fits like a glove - every single one of us would put it on with a huge grin and brag about it.

Most people think spending this kind of money is completely stupid and irrational. Some even laugh at the people flying first-class. "Lol, stupid. They paid 3x the airfare, but we’re all going to the same place. Ha ha.” But why don't you stop and ask, "Hey, I wonder why those people are spending that kind of money?"

You’ll notice that most frugalistas and experts completely dismiss the value of luxury. They see the world as a spreadsheet of dollars and cents that can be counted and should always be maximized to save as much money as possible. But you and I know that’s not how life works. Sure, saving is important, but if you can afford it and you want it, shouldn’t you be able to splurge to buy it - every once in a while? I say, spend extravagantly on the things you love…and cut costs mercilessly on the things you don’t.

Interesting? Now, do you see why we feel so conflicted about luxury?

We want it, but at the same time we don't. We see it everywhere, but nobody wants to talk about it publicly. We say certain things are "wasteful," but the $25 lunch we bought yesterday seems wasteful to someone who’s living on $25 a month and feeding a family of four. And we’re all for luxury until we see how much it actually costs...at which point we instantly label it “ridiculous.”

Am I saying you should immediately go out and buy a $6,000 suit? No.

But what I am saying is that it’s better to understand what’s going on in this luxury world than to immediately write it off as "too expensive" or “stupid.”

In fact, I’ve seen my view of luxury change through the years because I've seen it from both sides of the table. In my first year in the States, I earned only $11,000 and I didn’t spend a lot on luxury then, nor I had much understanding. But as my income grew, I saw another side. As I started seeing things from both perspectives, I learned to move past the sticker shock of saying "That cost HOW much? That’s insane!" and appreciate it instead.

Maybe your luxury is insane. Who cares?

Let’s get one thing clear: Luxury doesn’t have to mean a $50,000 dog house or a fur coat for every night of the week. YOU choose what luxury means to you.

I might think it’s insane, your college friend might think it’s insane, but if you’re getting superlative value from it, that’s luxury.

Instead of being dismissive of all luxuries (like I used to be), I decided to learn about the reasons behind why people pursue more, even when others might find it ridiculous or frivolous.

Check out what I learned:

LUXURY REASON #1: Functionality. I used to not understand people who got first-class airplane tickets by saying, “Ugh, we both get to the same place, and I just saved $2,000.” I was a stupid know-it-all when I said that. Now I know when you travel first class I can actually sleep well on cross-Atlantic flight, wake up fresh, have a decent breakfast before landing (therefore save time), and go straight to a meeting. Luxury can be functional.

LUXURY REASON #2: Economical. Luxury is, by definition, not cheap. But some people change from a “disposable” mentality of buying cheap umbrellas, cheap clothes, cheap EVERYTHING…to selectively buying the best and keeping it forever. I have few dresses and coats that costs what many would consider an obscene amount. Timeless and flawless after 10-20 years, and if you divide the price by amount of time — the price becomes much more palatable. And that says nothing about how much I love wearing it. There are very few things that give me more pleasure than turning heads when I walk in to a function or a ball in my custom Dolce & Gabanna dress.

LUXURY REASON #3: Jay-Z vs. Dorothy. So many people cannot fathom the idea that what costs a lot to you may not cost that much to someone else. Go look at literally any forum online about how much people paid for wedding rings. 90% of the respondents will say something like, “My husband paid $287 and we’ve been married for 30 years. Anyone who pays more is a fool!” That is great, Dorothy. But there are also people for whom $287 is like an eighth of a cent to you. They earned more, or they just have more (Jay-Z’s ring to Beyonce was wooping 5M, and Beyonce dropped 40M on a present to Jay-Z). As you see it is all relative.

What’s important to understand is that YOUR FINANCIAL SITUATION IS NOT EVERYONE ELSE’S. And that is something to keep in mind when you open your mouth to say: “That’s crazy money!”

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skvaderarts · 4 years ago

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Apocrypha Chapter Twenty Nine: Antithesis

Masterlist can be found Here! Thanks!

Chapter Twenty Nine: Antithesis

Note: I LOVE the comments everyone left on the last two chapters! It's so rewarding! I'll be building my first ever PC today. Wish me luck!

(-~-)

The room fell silent as mist blanketed the surrounding city. So far, the early morning hours had been filled with a thick blanket of fog, and rain was expected before noon. Thankfully, everyone was inside, even if they were not all under the same roof. As soon as the train had arrived, Dante and Vergil had gone to meet the others, insisting that Nero stay behind both for his own safety and for V’s. They had no way of knowing whether or not the cult had managed to track them down, and while they were relatively sure that they had taken care of them once and for all, Vergil was, as always, not optimistic.

Nero had stayed behind as requested, begrudgingly accepting the fact that they were right about what was going on. As much as he wanted to help protect his family and friends, V was a sitting duck so long as he was asleep in Magnolia’s guest room, and there was absolutely no way he was going anywhere in the state that he was currently in. Despite the fact that his injuries had been sufficiently patched, and the bleeding had stopped, there was still no way that he was going to simply walk out of her house and possibly into the line of fire again.

In a rare moment of benevolence, the universe decided not to test them any further, at least for one day. The train had pulled into the station with very little fanfare, and they had managed to make sure that everyone made it home safely. Much to the surprise of Kyrie and Nico, Magnolia insisted that they all stay until the next day to minimize the chances of any stragglers following them home. Needless to say that the living room had been very full for a few short hours.

Under the cover of darkness, Nero and the others had gone their separate ways, Lady taking it upon herself to make sure that Patty made it home safely. And with everyone out of town and ample time to sit and wait for V to recover (Magnolia insisted that V stay at her home until she deemed him ready to leave this time), Dante had taken the opportunity to travel back to the cult’s stomping grounds to try and find out what had become of Trish. Griffon had returned an absolute mess, stating that he’d shown Trish the way through the forest and that she’d decided to stay behind and investigate. As sure as Dante was that his longtime friend didn’t need his help, he was also sure that a little while alone with his injured son wasn’t going to do Vergil any harm. He needed to see for himself what had happened in that place, and he needed to take a better look at this “conduit” that everyone kept going on about. If an Arcana was involved, then it couldn’t hurt to have more information to share with the rightful keepers of the blade when the time came.

And so they’d gone their separate ways, trying to utilize the calm before the storm as best as they could.

Two days had passed since that decision.

As residual condensation ran down the windows and onto the ledge below, Vergil glanced over at V. He’d spent the better part of three days asleep, more than likely drained from his injuries. And although Magnolia had confirmed that he wasn’t in any form of coma, Vergil had decided that the best course of action had been to stay behind and at his side, trying not to seem as eager for him to awaken as he actually was. As much as the Darkslayer didn’t want to admit it, he was slightly concerned as to why V had yet to awaken from his extended slumber. While passing out after the residual energy that came with triggering for the first time wore off was far from unheard of, sleeping for three days straight was simply insane.

Was that some sort of gauge of his newfound strength? Did his body require that sort of time to reset and properly acclimate to such a drastic change in his biology? It didn’t seem unlikely, but it also didn’t make Vergil any less stir crazy. At the end of the day, he needed to be sure that his oldest son was actually going to be okay, and this wasn’t helping in any way, shape, or form.

“You do know that hovering over him isn’t going to make him wake up any quicker, don’t you?” Magnolia said quietly as she inched into the room, a sympathetic look on her face. The botanist didn’t know what she expected to see when she entered the room, but a part of her had hoped that there had been some change to her young patient's condition.

Vergil glanced over at her wordlessly, not at all surprised to see her again. She’d been checking in on V every hour or so for the better part of the morning, quietly worrying over him like a worried mother. From what he could tell, nothing seemed to be wrong with V other than the fact that he had yet to awaken from his prolonged and worry inducing slumber. Magnolia had checked basic things such as his temperature and heart rate several times, noting no change in his physical state. And if his demeanor and rather peaceful appearance were anything to go by, the young summoner wasn’t suffering in any way, shape, or form. He was simply taking the longest nap ever.

“I might have come to that conclusion by now, yes.” Vergil said as he reclined slightly, the back of the chair he was sitting in touching the wall nearest to the window. It came to rest in a slightly odd position, but not one that either of them paid any mind to.

“What I mean is… aren’t you tired?” Magnolia said as she came around the side of the bed to run her usual tests, a slightly worried tone tenting her normally melodic voice.” I don’t think I’ve seen you sleep since you arrived.”

The Darkslayer folded his arms across his chest loosely, more defensive than upset in any regard. “I have no interest in sleeping.”

“Neither do children, but they still require it, Vergil.” She said flatly as she recorded her results. There was still no notable change in his state. And from what she could tell, his vitals were just as they had been for the last day or so. V was simply depleted, and there was no changing that for the time being. Still, Magnolia found herself wishing that there was something more she could do to help. Seeing someone so young in such a state genuinely hurt her soul, bringing her back to unpleasant memories from her own past. The last time she’d seen her parents, they had been in a similar state. Only they were much older and had accomplished considerably more in the time that had been allotted to them. No one so young should have to suffer so egregiously.

Vergil closed his eyes, taking in her statement with a slight amount of salt. While he understood the validity of her statement, that still didn’t change his stance on the matter. And he didn’t care how irrational that seemed to anyone else involved. “Don’t you have a shop to attend to?”

“It’s the weekend. And even if it wasn’t, I would be for this.” Magnolia said with an offhanded gesture towards V as she recorded the last of her results in a composition notebook that she kept on the bedside table. It wasn’t exactly a patient spreadsheet, but then this wasn’t exactly a hospital, so it was the best she could do in the interim.” I have more important things to attend to at the moment.”

For a moment, Vergil quietly wondered to himself if his longtime associate could actually afford closing her shop for the conceivable future. While he knew that her lineage was one of substantial pedigree and, as such, had amassed substantial wealth in the many generations since they’d been established, Magnolia had never been the sort to accept monetary assistance from others, even her own family. Much like him, she equated the concept of owing another entity financially to them possessing ownership over her. And much like him, she found that idea utterly revolting. She would much rather strike out of her own accord, and deal with the undesired backlash of her actions herself. That had been what firmly differentiated her from the rest of her family as far as he was concerned.

The Ludwicks were a family. A coven.

Magnolia was an individual.

And no one was going to take that hard earned independence from her without one hell of a fight.

“You kept your word, I see.” Vergil said quietly, his eyes traveling back to his unconscious son as Magnolia gave him a questioning look.” You said you had no intention of abiding by the traditions set forth by your ancestors, and here you are. Was it worth it?”

A look of realization crossed Magnolia’s face as she finally comprehended what Vergil was going on about. As the oldest daughter of her family, she was the de facto leader of her family’s coven, and leader of the Ludwick shaman. It had been her duty to uphold her sect’s traditions and practices, but she had no interest in doing so. Her heart and mind belonged to other less… questionable practices. And as such, she had chosen to go against them by not participating in them. Instead, she had chosen a quiet life filled with interests that the rest of her bloodline would probably consider incredibly mundane, only occasionally straying into adventure and conquest. And when her parents had died and she’d told the rest of her family that she planned to do so, Vergil, unlike everyone else she knew, had believed her. And then he had simply vanished, only to return over twenty years later with a favor to ask.

There was no proper way to express what that had meant to her at such a difficult time in her young life.

“I have to say, it most certainly was.” Magnolia said quietly as she sat down on the windowsill, taking her hair down and allowing it to flow freely.” It cost me the loyalty of most of my family, but if that was all it took, then perhaps I didn’t have it to begin with. And besides, I’m not alone in the end after all. That being said, I do with that my sisters would simply kiss and make up already. They are being quite childish.”

Vergil smirked in response to her answer for a brief moment, the irony of that statement not lost on him in the slightest. He was self aware enough to be able to see some of his own life issues reflected in her life, and pity her suffering regardless of her desire for him to do so. It was a shame that her family had never seen her brilliance, and an even bigger one that her nearly equally bright younger siblings had fallen short in the same regard.

“It seems that my confidence in Willow and Aluta has been misplaced.” Vergil said, barely concealing his scathing sarcasm. The two younger girls had been hell on earth for him during his brief time spent with them in his youth. As far as he was concerned, saying that Magnolia was the smart one wasn’t as much an opinion as it was a concrete fact. While the other two girls were far from dull, they weren't exactly on their older sister’s level, either. Not even close.” And I will never understand your family’s obsession with botanically themed names. It’s just so… asinine.”

The plucky botanist shook her head, snickering quietly to herself. “ I never took you for much of a liar, Son of Sparda. You never had any faith in them to start with! I know it, you know it, everyone including them should know it by this point.” She said almost playfully, thankful for the reprieve from the lingering tension that blanketed the room.” As for the naming conventions... well I could say the same about your family! You’ve exhausted nearly all the good Latin names already, and you're only about three generations in! It’s about longevity, my dear. To pick a theme and run it into the ground, you must be dedicated, Vergil. It’s an art form.”

He shook his head, admittedly somewhat amused by Magnolia’s statement. This was why he could talk to her and not her sisters. The botanist was genuinely clever, her wit leagues above the vast majority of beings he’d spoken with during his lifetime. But regardless, he wasn’t going down without a fight. “Latin in a primordial language, one that your family’s obsession with flora and fauna owes a terrible debt to, Magnolia. We’ve yet to even scratch the surface.”

She shook her head playfully, sparing a glance at V. “Oh, I’m sure. That being said, I’m starting to get the impression that the eldest of your offspring must despise whatever dreadful name you’ve no doubt forced upon him. I’ve never once heard any of you call him by it. Do you even know what it is?”

Vergil’s gaze narrowed, his eyes roaming between Magnolia and V. A fair question, to be sure. And one he had walked himself into like the fool that he was. But not one that he felt like giving a meaningful answer to. “... I’m waiting for the proper moment to expose him in the most unexpected way possible. I only get to do it one, after all.” He paused for a moment, his voice quieting slightly as the humor he’d possessed left him.” As for his motivation for introducing himself in the way that he does… I suspect he has other reasons. Perhaps reasons that are too personal to speculate on, even for me.”

Magnolia nodded, understanding how to take a hint and when to drop a subject before things took a turn for the worst. Their families were complicated. There was no reason to make things any worse than they already were. “Speaking of speculation, I have some I’d like to share about your son.” She stood up and made her way over towards V, the young summoner still fast asleep.” I have reason to believe that he’s still recovering, though not in the way that you might expect. He healed two days ago. Physically at least. The only reason I’ve bothered to keep his bandages in place was to apply pressure to his bruises in the hope that they’d heal faster. But aside from that, he’s not physically impaired to any meaningful degree. I have reason to believe that he does in fact benefit from a heightened healing factor, though only when he’s asleep.”

Her observation gained her a slightly baffled look from Vergil. Although that didn’t make much sense to him, he wasn’t going to discount it. But the entire concept seemed somewhat counterproductive to him.” Do you have any idea why that might be?”

She nodded, flipping through her composition notebook.” As a matter of fact, I do. It’s because of V’s nonexistent energy levels. I was not made aware until just recently that he’s got a, how should I put this, weak constitution. I assumed that he was simply experiencing a weak spell as a result of his recent return. No, according to him he’s always been like this. And I believe that is why his latent abilities are so segmented and slow to activate. His body is using his standard power to keep him stable, acting as a sort of crutch to his immune system. But once asleep, his abilities no longer need to stretch themselves so thin and he recovers. It all makes perfect sense, doesn’t it?”

Vergil nodded to himself slowly, considering her statement.” ... That would help make sense of his current condition as well. It is not so much a question of whether or not he is capable of triggering, but a question of if he can physically handle it when he does so.

She snapped her fingers, signaling that he’d gotten the gist of her statement.“ Tell me Vergil, being a hybrid yourself, do you believe it possible to actually be so powerful that your body simply cannot sustain its own ambient energy? That it is possible to be too powerful for your own good?”

He sighed begrudgingly, not at all keen on the implications of that statement. He’d spent a lifetime working towards becoming more powerful, throwing away everything that wasn’t taken away from him in his endless pursuit of power. And in the ultimate act of irony, he had helped conceive a being that was the very antithesis of himself. A hybrid so powerful that their body was actually harmed by their own powers to an extent. How much more ironic could things possibly be?

“And yet he displays very little of the power that you speak of.” Vergil ws unsure of what to think about such an observation, despite the fact that it made sense when contrasted to some of the things he’d seen involving V. But perhaps the implications were simply too troubling to consider. Could V be cursed with the very thing that he actively desired? Was that even a curse? Was there such a thing as too much power when it came to demonic abilities? Truly, he was at a crossroads with this revelation.

“Maybe that’s by design. Maybe something happened to him once. Something so traumatic that he’s repressed it and his abilities along with it.” Magnolia shrugged, unsure of what more she could say on the subject. “You must remember that your sons are not quite like you and your brother. They are more human. That imbalance had so come with tradeoffs. And while they seem to be good, I can only assume that some of them are not. You and I both understand the costs of such power. Take my clan and our abilities for example. And if that is not sufficient, look to your own bloodline, Vergil. It is a possibility to consider. Sometimes power doesn’t make sense. It’s dubious and it comes from a variety of sources. At times you can hold it in your hand. Other times it is something you feel in your heart. You don’t have to believe it to be true.”

On that concept, they agreed, even if it was for different reasons. Vergil would have to consider the options provided to him, but his longtime friend’s observations made a lot of sense to him. But until V woke up, they had no way of knowing for sure. And that fact alone was enough to cause Vergil a new level of dismay that he didn’t know he possessed. The idea that the very thing he'd devoted so much of his life to might be the very thing that V desired and benefited from the least was almost unreal to him. And as soon as his son woke up, he intended to try and find out.

They needed to go to that island that Dante had spoken of.

And they needed to meet the Guardians of the Arcana.

(-~-) This chapter has been very interesting. And I already have the coolest idea for next week’s chapter. Gotta get as much writing done as possible before the holidays arrive, right? I hope this chapter sparks some interesting but civil conversation in the comments section, and I hope to see you for chapter thirty. I have some very special stuff planned for the 30th chapter of this fic and the 50th chapter in this series. That’s just an unreal number lol! What I wouldn’t do to have a physical copy of this fic!

#Apocrypha #Vergil #V #Magnolia Ludwick #Vergil and Magnolia #DMCV #DMC5 #DMC #Devil May Cry 5 #Devil May Cry V #Post Devil May Cry 5

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mrsrcbinscn · 5 years ago

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Franny Sor Framagucci Robinson Character Sheet

Dear Mom and Dad, I'll send money, I'm so rich that it ain't funny It oughtta be more than enough to get you through - (x)

Archetype — The Creator

Birthday — January 17, 1980

Zodiac Sign — Capricorn

MBTI — ENFJ-A (The Protagonist — 93% Extroverted, 56% Intuitive, 60% Feeling, 60% Judging, 83% Assertive)

Enneagram — Type 3w2 — The Charmer

Temperament — Sanguine

Hogwarts House — Slytherin Primary, Hufflepuff Primary model, Gryffindor Secondary

Moral Alignment — Lawful Good

Primary Vice — Pride

Primary Virtue — Charity or Diligence

Element — Air

Song — A Better Son/Daughter by Rilo Kiley

Overview:

Government name — Darareaksmey Francine Sor Framagucci Robinson Name — Franny Robinson/Franny Sor Robinson Mother — Sophea “Sophie” Sor

Father — Adrien Framagucci (stepfather, legally adopted her), Peter Boyd (biological father)

Mother’s Occupation — Restaurant owner

Father’s Occupation — Construction worker

Family Finances — grew up in poverty, insanely wealthy now

Birth Order — Youngest

Brothers — stepbrothers Gaston and Art Framagucci (mother legally adopted them, if you say ‘step’ Franny will kill you), claims no others but has biological half brothers from Peter Boyd; John-Curtis “JC” Boyd, Timothy “Timmy” Boyd

Sisters — claims none, but has biological half sisters by Peter Boyd; Sarah Boyd, Stacy Boyd, Shyann Boyd

Other Close Family — spreadsheet

Best Friend — Daniel Maitland, Molly Vaughn (deceased)

Other Friends — Lora Lopez, Serghei Anton, Delia Weiss, Vanessa Pham, others

Enemies — most men on principle

Home Life During Childhood — It was a good childhood. Working the restaurant was normal to Franny so she didn’t realize it was abnormal at first. Her parents tried not to let the kids realize how poor they actually were.

Town or City Name(s) — Payne Lake, Georgia

Any Sports or Clubs — In high school she was in drama, show choir, orchestra, National Honor Society, and on the quiz bowl team

Favorite Toy or Game — Franny honestly loved hide and seek well into her teenage years because she was small enough to fit it the weirdest places to hide, and in the 80s and 90s in a small town in Georgia there wasn’t much to do so her friend group played Extreme Hide and Seek. Everyone wears all black like some kind of cult. Turn off all the lights in the house. Go crazy.

Schooling — K-12 in Payne Lake, Georgia ; B.A.s. in Musical Theatre Performance and Jazz Studies at NYU; M.A. in Jazz Studies at Pride U

Favorite Subject — Anything that wasn’t math or chemistry

Popular or Loner — Popular, has always been magnetic

Important Experiences or Events — Her first time on stage, getting enough scholarship money to justify going to NYU, quickly growing to love the nerd she hit up to buy her waffles and never letting him go, the accident that changed her life, marrying Cornelius Robinson, finding the magic singing frogs, adopting Wilbur, discovering the severity of her fertility issues in 2008,

Nationality — American-Cambodian (born American, given Cambodian citizenship in 2019)

Culture — Franny identifies most strongly with Cambodian, followed by broadly Southeast Asian sometimes with Buddhist attached, and that’s tied with ‘Rural Southern (USA)’ sometimes with POC attached. Franny feels pretty detached from “American Culture” in general. She more closely would identify with Southern USA culture in general than with general American with no modifiers. She also feels a little detached from Asian American culture in general because even though she grew up right outside of Atlanta and is familiar with Atlanta, she didn’t grow up in one of the big hubs of Asian American culture like LA, San Francisco, or NYC. White American and Black American culture surrounded her, and the Asian cultures surrounding her were immigrant or first-gen cultures that hadn’t really developed an American flavor yet. Franny understood more about Vietnamese and Thai culture than she did about general Asian American culture for a long time, because immigrants straight from Southeast Asia were the only Asians she grew up around. And she grew up in the 80s and 90s where Asian representation was yellowface and Long Duk Dong. She didn’t meet any Asian Americans who didn’t speak or at least understand their heritage language until college. And the experience of POC as a whole in the South is very different to the experience of a white person, so sometimes Franny feel disconnected from her white southern neighbors and more closely relates to black or non-white Latinx southerners in ways she doesn’t relate to white southerners, or Asian Americans from LA or NYC.

Religion and beliefs — Buddhist

Languages spoken— Khmer, English, Vietnamese, French, Italian, (less fluently) Portuguese, Spanish, (can understand some) Thai, Lao, (impressive tourist) German, Dutch

Physical Appearance

Face Claim — Elodie Yung

Complexion — Tanned skin, pale brown

Hair Colour — Black

Eye Colour — Brown

Height — 5’5

Tattoos — Yes, a few. Wilbur’s adoption date over her heart, most notably

Piercings — Lobe, upper lobe, tragus, helix, and cartilage on both ears, and an anti-tragus on her left ear. And a nose piercing she got in college

Common Hairstyle — typically keeps her hair long and done nicely but she cuts it and donates it from time to time so will also rock short hair

Clothing Style — vintage-inspired but not proper vintage

Mannerisms — Biting the pads of her thumbs, gesturing wildly, narrating her actions sometimes in song, if she’s looking for scissors she walks through the house making a scissors motion with her fingers

Usual Expression — she’s got resting bitch face

Health

Overall (do they get sick easily)? — No, her immune system is the real MVP and when she does get sick she’s like ‘I’m dYING’

Physical Ailments — Infertility

Neurological Conditions — Depression, Cyclothymia (rapid cycles of depressive and hypomanic episodes)

Allergies — none

Grooming Habits — Typically rinses her body daily, uses soap on the armpits daily, but proper washes her body every other day. Washes her hair every two or three days as needed, but if she was extra sweaty that day it gets washed. Waxes leg hair and eyebrows.

Sleeping Habits — she generally gets a decent amount of sleep but it isn’t usually all at once. She’s a champion power-napper, and if she has three days cleared she’ll often sleep mainly all at once except have like a 2-3 hour period of wakefulness and productivity and then go back to sleep for two more hours, then take an hour nap later in the day.

Eating Habits — She’s a grazer. She doesn’t usually sit down and eat three times a day she’ll sneak like five small meals a day

Exercise Habits — works out at least three days a week somewhat because she’s really sensitive to when people comment on her body so she’s afraid to give people a reason to say a negative comment. Like. She’s body positive, big supporter of you don’t gotta be skinny to be beautiful or healthy. But when people say things like “oh Franny you got a little jiggle in those thighs” it’s never said like a good or neutral thing. She had a lot of body image issues throughout high school and college, and came dangerously close to developing an eating disorder freshman year at NYU but kind of logicked herself from the ledge

Emotional Stability — generally emotionally stable, like for someone with her mental illnesses she does great

Body Temperature — runs hot

Sociability — A social butterfly

Addictions — None; did abuse adderall in college but when she quit cold turkey she didn’t like. Suffer cravings. She wasn’t addicted, but she did abuse it to the point she realized “oh I need to...stop”

Drug Use — occasional use of drugs to make her trip, like acid, shrooms, but this is very rare, she doesn’t do it at home, usually if she’s on the road with other musicians or has gone to LA or NYC or London for a few days to have a songwriting session, the group will sometimes partake. Even then not every time. Used to experiment with drugs more in college, but still it was never...a TON.

Alcohol Use — More than occasional less than frequent

Your Character’s Character:

Bad Habits — swearing, next to no filter, temper when it comes to perceived injustices, tends to overload herself

Good Habits — Keeps a detailed planner, is a maniac about drinking lots of water, is vocal about her needs and boundaries

Best Characteristic — her warmth! She really is friendly and easy to get along with and wants to be nice. But she will not be walked over and will not allow her kind, marshmallow husband to be walked over so she will flip a switch to protect herself or her boys.

Worst Characteristic — unforgiving

Worst Memory — it’s a tie between her experience with sexual assault, and the time her biological father’s wife found out Franny was his biological child, and came into her mother’s restaurant when she was visiting with her pretty new HUSBAND, and Nancy Boyd proceeded to beat up Franny and her mother

Best Memory — Adopting Wilbur! It WAS marrying Cornelius but sorry Neil it’s her baby boy now

Proud of — Her husband, she is so proud to be Cornelius Robinson’s wife. She proud to be her mother’s daughter. And she’s proud of her accomplishments in music and philanthropy

Embarrassed by — Nothing, she’s great

Driving Style — Oh, aggressive. She’s an offensive driver. Cusses.

Strong Points — she doesn’t quit, she’s the walk through hell and keep going type of person

Temperament — generally she’s pretty even-tempered. It’s easy to set her off in an instant though if you’re being racist, sexist - any type of shitty person tbh, or being shitty toward her husband or son, but for the most part she’s pretty chill. She deff has crazy bitch energy just under the surface though and you can tell

Attitude — Franny’s not particularly bitchy, but you know, she can be

Weakness — can’t do basic math, very overly self-critical, perfectionist

Fears — Something happening to Wilbur tbh. That’s her greatest fear, losing her son.

Phobias — Franny does not throw up. She refuses. She will literally feel nauseous and horrible all day to avoid puking. It makes her so anxious, she will nOT.

Secrets — None really? Like she doesn’t blab her life story to everyone but Cornelius knows everything about her. She has no secrets from her husband.

Regrets — Not adopting more children when she and Cornelius got married knowing they both wanted a big family; ever meeting up with her biological father

Feels Vulnerable When — She cries in front of people. Franny hates doing it. She’d rather die tbh

Pet Peeves — when people are rude to wait staff

Conflicts — She sometimes feels a surge of resentment for her husband during her depressive episodes because she kind of feels like she’s pulled most of the weight in their marriage from Day 1 as far as running the home, and feels like although he purported to also want a big family he never even offered to take HIS turn pulling back from work so they could adopt a second child when it became clear it wasn’t gonna happen for them biologically, but then Franny hates herself for that because Cornelius is the kindest, most loving, most wonderful husband and father and she feels so privileged to call herself his wife and...yeah they just need to have a long talk about it tbh

Motivation — to be the best at everything she does; to force space for herself where she and people like her have previously been excluded, to be so great that you can’t ignore her

Short Term Goals and Hopes — have a baby, but she’s 40 now and knows its not gonna happen

Long Term Goals and Hopes —she’s...kinda done everything she ever set out to do other than have lots of children

Sexuality — Bisexual, leans toward women, but had more experience with men because compulsory heterosexuality in the US in the 90s and early 2000s, and genuinely fell in love with a man are has been with just him for twenty years now

Exercise Routine — Doesn’t spend much time on cardio because she gets enough cardio walking around town and Pride U. Mainly works on her core, legs, and strength training so if a man tries to grab her she can kick his ass

Day or Night Person — Would be nocturnal if she could be

Introvert or Extrovert — Extrovert

Optimist or Pessimist — She’s naturally pretty cynical but she’s worked for like twenty-five years to have a more optimistic outlook on things. It’s 50/50 now I’d say

Likes and Styles:

Music — there isn’t really a genre she doesn’t like - like her initial fame was in jazz, but she has an equal affection for jazz and bluegrass/classic country/folk music. She also is in an indie band, Seoul Hanoi’d. And like rap music - usually old school Atlanta rap, but she likes Kendrick Lamar and some other current rappers.

Books — She likes to read or listen to audiobooks about pretty much any subject except music and musicians.

Foods — Cambodian food!!

Drinks — She likes sweet tea, aaaand her alcohol of choice is Anything

Animals — Possums :3 She wants a pet possum so bad, she follows pet possums on instagram and cries at their cute posts

Sports — She played tennis in high school, that’s the extent of her sports knowledge

Social Issues — all of them. Climate change, racial justice, intersectional feminism, VACCINATE ALL THE CHILDREN UNLESS THEY MEDICALLY CANNOT BE, de-mining, Green New Deal, punch Nazis, hey maybe don’t put children in cages, Myanmar can you please not do that genocide you’re doing that would be swell, poor people deserve access to healthcare and education, housing-first approach to homelessness, the good stuff

Favorite Saying — “Hoes mad”, usually said dismissively when she receives a death threat after a political tweet, or after a racist one for just being an Asian woman in the public eye

Clothing — Franny prefers skirts, dresses, and jumpsuits/rompers to shirt + trousers

Jewelry — She never takes off her wedding ring. She’s married af

TV Shows — Schitt’s Creek, Kim’s Convenience, a lot of Canadian TV she really thinks is funny

Movies — She’s a big nerd that loves a good documentary or otherwise educational movie

Greatest Want — More children, including one biological child because her mother always talked about pregnancy and childbirth like it was the most humbling and empowering experience she’d ever had, and Franny wants that. But she’s 40 and knows she won’t have that.

Greatest Need — a baby lmao

Where and How Does Your Character Live Now:

Home — In a big-ass house in the wealthiest part of town, maybe even the biggest house

Household furnishings — Not overdecorated. A lot of people live there, but Franny’s very much the lady of the house, and even more so than her husband is the head of the household. She’s not a dictator, like her mother-in-law and other relatives have added their touches to the home decor, but it is very much Franny’s Home with notes of the others. She’s very particular about her kitchen, but is very flexible with the rest of the common spaces.

Most Cherished Possession — Family photographs of her mother and her family before the Khmer Rouge. Franny bears a striking resemblance to her Aunt Kesor, who was the older sister her mother had idolized, but who died during the Khmer Rouge years. Franny only knows of the resemblance from photographs.

Neighborhood — The rich people part of town

Town or City Name — Swynlake, England

Details of Town or City — lol

Married Before — Cornelius is her first and only husband and unless he cheats on her she’s never ever leaving that man

Significant Other Before — nobody important

Children — Wilbur Robinson, wants/wanted more

Relationship with Family — Close! Both to her in-laws, biological maternal family, and stepfamily

Car — 2020 Nissan Qashqai

Career — Singer, song-writer, musician, composer, musical actress, actress, university music professor

Dream Career — Musical actress

Dream Life — Married to Cornelius, with lots of kids, living her best life

Love Life — Happily married to the love of her life, her sunshine, the jelly to her fish, Cornelius Robinson

Talents or Skills — music, cooking, acting

Intelligence Level — High? Like she can’t do basic math but everything else. She’s a musical genius, is good with languages, and is pretty perceptive

Finances — Loaded

Your Character’s Life Before Your Story:

Past Careers — restaurant worker, event staff

Past Lovers — nobody worth mentioning

Biggest Mistakes — “I don’t make mistakes”

Biggest Achievements — Grammys, induction into the Songwriters Hall of Fame, being the first Cambodian person to win a Grammy, International Bluegrass Music Association awards, ASCAP awards, and being awarded the national medal of the arts by Barack Obama in 2015

#&&...hc #meet the robinsons

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soartfullydone · 5 years ago

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Well, well. If it isn't the little mouse come to rummage around once more in my things. Oh, no please. Don't get up. I'd love to see what is of such interest to you on my desk. Last I checked, it was a mountain of requisitions from Urban Development. Do close your mouth, pet. You could give give some men the wrong idea. Hm? Why so surprised? Did you really think I would be unaware of the comings and goings in my own office?

ahaaaaa bite me cassie

Rufus Shinra’s office wasn’t as obnoxious as his father’s, but an air of pretentiousness lingered all the same. Melody felt that way about most executive offices. It seemed like anyone in Shinra who breached past the managerial level acquired a new suite big enough to fit their ego inside, the size of the space in direct correlation with the amount of money most of them didn’t deserve to make.

Namely because they weren’t in said office working often enough. With higher-ups, it was always arriving late and two-hour lunches and leaving early. Melody didn’t know what was stronger: her lack of surprise or her disappointment that Rufus appeared to be cut from the same cloth.

As Mayor Domino promised, Shinra’s heir apparent was absent, and this, too, gave her conflicting feelings. Relief. Frustration. However, her disgust was aimed entirely at herself.

Just get this over with.

Walking on the balls of her feet to minimize the clacking sound of her heels, Melody darted across the room, feeling immediately off-kilter.

She couldn’t remember ever seeing so much white. The tiled floors, the seamless stretch of wall, even the great expanse of his steel desk—the room was an uninterrupted blanket of white. The company’s usual selection of marble had been completely rejected for this room, for even the whitest marble displayed veins of black and gray. There were no deliberately placed accents, no splashes of color save for the odd item on Rufus’ desk. A black fountainpen. A silver paperweight shaped almost as perfectly as materia. A discarded, canary yellow paperclip. Then, there were the stacks of papers—Melody recognized the cover page on one stack instantly—the three computer monitors, the leather chair pushed into the desk, all of them white.

It was this chair Melody slid into, attempting to ignore how unnerved it all made her. There was nothing personal. No paintings on the wall, no shrubs in the corner, no pictures of family or friends. There was an entire wall that was a window, which displayed Sector 8 through Sector 2 in dazzling silver as sunlight beat down on steel and stone. Thank God. This was a room one could go insane in without such a view. She had never seen a space that was so clearly used be so cold and clinical at the same time; hospitals had more life.

It’s possible our dear Prince Shinra will be a little more careless on his own turf. Most employees are that arrogant, Mayor Domino had said wryly.

What am I looking for? she’d asked.

Anything.

Melody didn’t have much time. She’d originally guessed she’d linger no more than five minutes, but Domino’s warnings—not to mention her past experiences with Rufus—had scared her down to three. She tried the desk drawers first, only to find them all locked. The one that wasn’t held nothing but a keyboard, and a quick inspection failed to uncover any poorly-hidden notes containing computer passwords or other intriguing information. The computer was locked, too, and a quick keystroke put it back into sleep mode. Her hands flew across the papers on the desk, thumbing through them rapidly.

New recruit considerations for the Department of Public Safety, most of them unfavorable. Performance analytics for weapons prototypes from Scarlet’s department. Melody’s eyes snagged on the schematics and armaments list for a mechanical monstrosity labeled “Project Airbuster” before she was forced to continue on. She reached to move aside the one handful of papers containing information she already knew when, inexplicably, the hair on the back of her neck stood up.

“Well, well,” Rufus Shinra said, his lips ghosting the shell of her ear as a strand of his blond hair brushed her cheek. “If it isn't the little mouse come to rummage around once more in my things.”

Melody twisted around—or tried to. The Vice President had other ideas, his hands gripping both sides of the chair and holding it steady, his body an uncompromising wall. She was locked in and going nowhere.

“Oh, no, please. Don’t get up.” Rufus smirked, his tone polite and mocking at the same time. He knew he had her caught. As if to boast this knowledge, he shifted just enough so he could lean over her left shoulder and cage her in further as he pretended to examine the spread of documents. “I’d love to see what is of such interest to you on my desk. Last I checked, it was a mountain of requisitions from Urban Development.”

With a smooth sweep of his hand, he gathered that very mountain she’d messily dropped in her shock at hearing him—feeling him—just behind her. He straightened the papers and feathered through them, the pages skipping across his thumb. “A scintillating read, I’m sure, but...” His sidelong gaze caught hers before it dipped, skimming down her neck, tracing her clavicle, caressing the swell of her breasts. Finishing his lazy inspection, his crystal blue eyes found hers again, searing this time. “Rather than suffer more of Tuesti’s thinly-veiled pleas for financial backing, I’d rather find you waiting for me here, on my desk—but not today.”

Melody had an iron-clad defense ready, but her lips parted in surprise, a blush spreading across her face at how casually Rufus could talk about fucking her. At how intimately she remembered what his cruel mouth could do to her flesh, how quickly his skillful fingers could make her come. She hated how easily he could fluster her by merely mentioning it. She hated how he could dangle the possibility in front of her only to yank it back without any true regret at all.

And most of all, she hated how badly she wanted it—wanted him—anyway.

Rufus regarded her with half-lidded eyes before leaning closer, setting off a new wave of panic and eagerness within her. Was he actually, finally going to kiss her? Was she finally going to discover what he tasted like? He tilted up her chin, and Melody’s knuckles turned white from squeezing the chair’s armrests. His lips were a breath away from hers when he chided, “Do close your mouth, pet. You could give some men the wrong idea.”

He released her with a flick of his fingers and straightened, his focus returning to the desk with a more worrisome air of assessment. At least, Melody should have been worried, should have been busy double-checking that she had put every document back in the exact spot she had first found it. Instead, she was leaning back in the chair, dazed and barely holding onto herself inside her own skin. Little mouse. Pet. She wanted to kill him. She wanted to know how creative he could get with names for her. Gratefulness that she had avoided reaching some point of no return with him again warred with the urge to see how far she could push him until he took what he wanted.

Instead, she steered her resolve toward the plan and managed, “I didn’t mean to bother you, sir. I— I didn’t expect to see you.”

“Hm? Why so surprised?” replied Rufus coolly. He was frowning suddenly at the assessment report from Weapons Development. “Did you really think I would be unaware of the comings and goings in my own office?”

“Of course not.”

“Then what,” he said, his voice and eyes frozen as he turned to advance on her, “are you doing here?”

Melody stood so quickly that she pushed the chair free and clear from her. She meant for her hands to raise in a placating gesture, but they became the barrier against Rufus’ chest to halt him from coming closer. (Not that they could truly stop him. Not that some part of her wanted to cling to the lapels of his jacket and pull him flush against her, imploring him to take, take, take.)

“The proposal!” she exclaimed, her thoughts scattered. “In your hand.”

A crease appeared between his blond brows, doubtful and contemplative at once. “What about it, Miss Westfire?”

Her stomach flipped with a thrill at his put-on formality. She loved how he humored her, but God, how she hated him for how he played with her. “A team member of mine thinks she included a page from another report in there by accident. She was freaking out, so I offered to get it back.” She looked down at the Urban Development proposal, concern flitting across her face. “Assuming you haven’t already trashed it.”

“I haven’t looked over it at all.”

Melody ignored that dig. She crossed her arms, feigning calm as Rufus flipped through the pages much slower and more thoroughly this time.

“Is this what you’re after?” Rufus pulled a page free, and a glance at its surface showed a half-formed spreadsheet, its cells missing numbers, with notes penned in flowing cursive across the bottom of the paper. It also lacked the distinctive formatting that the proposal was required to have and clearly displayed on its other pages.

Melody sighed, relieved. Even though she’d planted the page herself, a part of her had believed wildly that it had somehow vanished. “Yes. Thank you. She’ll be so glad.”

She went to take the page, but Rufus wouldn’t relinquish it. He asked, “Which team member lost this again?”

Her smile thinned. “I didn’t say.”

“Then say, Miss Westfire.”

“I would prefer—”

“I don’t care what you would prefer. Imagine if this held trade secrets, SOLDIER patrol routes, blueprints of our reactors. Now imagine if this information fell into the hands of Avalanche.” Rufus pulled, and the page ripped in an uneven half between their hands. Crumpling his half, Rufus tossed it on the desk, the completed proposal landing with a thump beside it. “Our company—my company—can’t afford this kind of carelessness. Tell me who it was.”

“So you can do what?” She let her half flutter to the floor, her heart pounding in her chest.

“I would think that was obvious,” Rufus said, dragging his chair back. He sat facing her, elbows braced on the armrests and his fingers laced together. “I’m going to fire her.”

Blood rushed in her ears. No, no, no. No. This wasn’t how this was supposed to go.

Seeing her indecision, Rufus smiled and leaned forward. “Tell me, Melody. Tell me now, or the one I’ll be making an example of will be you.”

Her fists clenched at her sides. If she bit down any harder, she thought she might shatter her teeth. Rufus’ eyes glittered before he shrugged, unconcerned. “Pity. In that case—”

“Rainy,” Melody bit out. “It was Celeste Rainy.”

Rufus’ smile sharpened. “Good girl.”

“Want me to send her up, too, while I’m at it?” she snapped, enraged at him. Enraged at herself.

“Oh, no. I don’t mind handling all the unpleasantness for you. You’ve done enough.”

Yes. Yes, Melody had, and she had nothing to show for it except getting a faithful, hard-working employee fired over her lies and schemes. Sick to her stomach, she went to leave, uncaring that the Vice President hadn’t dismissed her yet.

He caught her with an arm around her middle; he didn’t even have to rise from the chair to do so, but he did anyway. “Now, I can’t let you go with you looking this upset. What about your reward?”

“I have a lot of work to do.” She refused to meet his eyes. If she did, he would know exactly how much she despised him. More than likely, it would make him happy, and the last thing on Gaia she wanted was Rufus Shinra’s happiness.

“Work, she says.” The tips of his fingers traced the line of her neck. “Everything you do… In the end, it’s all for me.”

She went to protest, incensed, but his hand tightened around her and drew her into him. She felt his leather, fingerless glove press into the nape of her neck, his thumb caressing her racing pulse. Racing because his mouth was lavishing cruel ministrations to the column of her throat, his kiss hot, his mouth sucking hard enough to leave marks on her skin. She gasped as he rose higher and higher, his teeth scraping the underside of her jaw. Each kiss was a new way to claim her, and she was helpless against any of them.

At some point, her knees had buckled. Rufus’ arm was around her waist, pinning her against his chest. One of his legs was in between both of hers, and she moaned, the heat of his thigh driving her temporarily insane. Melody rolled her hips, wanting that delicious friction. Rufus bit her earlobe sharply.

“I said, not today.”

He let her go, removing himself enough that she was forced to get her legs under her. They felt shaky, but she managed. Her hand rose to inspect her neck, which felt utterly ravaged, and it was enough to bring a hint of sanity back. “You call this a reward?”

“You’re never satisfied,” Rufus noted, smiling as if he was satisfied. “That must be why we get along so well.”

He strode to the door of his office, expecting her to follow, which she naturally did. It was her only escape route. She frowned when he opened it for her like a gentleman. “That wasn’t your reward. I’m still debating what it is you deserve.”

Those words caused butterflies to flutter and a chilling dread to settle in her stomach all at once. When she was level with him, she asked archly, “What was it then, besides unwanted?”

Rufus traced her lips with his thumb, felt her shudder before she could stop it. “Don’t lie now.”

He leaned down, so they were looking nearly eye to eye, icy assurance versus burning resolve. “It was a warning, my dear. You’re good at this game, better than most, but you’ll never be able to play it like I can.” His smirk was sharp and prideful. “Next time you want to play spy with me, take greater care with your pawns.”

#:)))))))) I Love It Here #cue scene #ca: observe my sins #Anonymous

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supremeuppityone · 6 years ago

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Drowning Secrets in the Sea

This is a gift for the lovely @klarolinesbuttons — thank you for all of the wonderful works you created for the Klaroween Bingo Event! I hope you like your gift!

In this AU human story, Klaus discovers the archaeological find of the century with an ancient underwater city and now he’s expected to share credit with a brazen blonde upstart who enjoys arguing and flirting in equal measure.

Historical note: In 2001, there was an amazing archaeological find — the underwater city of Heracleion, that plunged into the Mediterranean Sea off the coast of Egypt nearly 1,200 years ago. Definitely ‘worth a Google’ when you see the amazing artifacts they’ve found!

“The thief is not the one who steals, but the one that is caught.”

— George Bernard Shaw

Its bite radius seemed to be the size of a bloody golf cart, and rather than shrink back in terror when faced with arguably the most dangerous shark species in the world, Caroline appeared to be glaring at it while forcibly grabbing several gold Egyptian idols she’d excavated from the seafloor. Klaus swore that blonde menace was bloody insane as she faced off with the aggressive bull shark, defiantly swimming off without a backward glance to see if it intended to chase after her.

As lead archaeologist for the ancient city of Heracleion, Klaus had endured a mind-numbing amount of red tape as his board of regents dictated every aspect of his research off the coast of Egypt, but he lost count of the number of times he almost quit after they sent Caroline Forbes to join his team. She arrived a month ago, with her sunshine curls, mischievous blue eyes and maddening spreadsheets that rearranged every one of his excavation processes. And her insufferable know-it-all attitude left him gritting his teeth after he secretly fact-checked her various research arguments with him only to discover that she might be the foremost expert in Egyptology.

And that was when he knew he was in trouble. Because in his decades-long academic career, he’d never allowed anyone or anything to distract him from his research. But Caroline was a force of nature who swept into his life and left him completely out of his depth for the first time in his life. Klaus had tried to maintain a comfortable professional distance, but his control was worn thin every time she argued with him about proper sarcophagi preservation while wearing those distracting mid-thigh scuba suits she preferred.

Shaking his head in irritation at the blonde’s recklessness, he forced himself to ascend slowly in the warm water to avoid decompression complications. When he finally broke the surface, he scowled at the cheeky grin that greeted him. Caroline leaned over the lower deck of their research vessel to help him scale the steel ladder. “Took you long enough, Klaus. I was starting to think my friend decided to play tag with you,” she teased.

“Your ‘friend’ has a fearsome reputation for jaws of steel that ruthlessly hang on with no tolerance for provocation, and you chose to taunt the beast by encroaching on his territory. What the hell were you thinking,” Klaus growled, hating how his schoolboy crush made him irrationally angry at his colleague.

Rolling her eyes, she bent over, inadvertently giving him a front-row seat to the perfection that was her magnificently sculpted arse as she retorted, “Well, I was thinking my friend could wait his turn because it’s finders keepers.” Straightening with one of the tarnished gold idols, she shrugged carelessly, “It’s the law of the land.” Excitedly stroking the statue, she gushed, “Do you see the beautifully rendered electrum? I estimate it’s 80% gold and the pharaonic head covering almost perfectly mimics the Amun-Gerb temple burial masks!”

It was that unique adventurous spirit, along with her obvious enthusiasm for their scholarly endeavors, that had him completely captivated, Klaus realized with a small smile. Just the other day, the bloody lunatic had casually shooed away a venomous lionfish that had grown curious about an extraordinarily well-preserved stele she’d unearthed.

But she wasn’t always so fearless.

The first week she’d arrived, they’d breached a narrow passageway in the underwater cave where the oldest artifacts seemed to be located. Excited at the prospect of uncovering more priceless treasures, Caroline barely paid attention to the rope guideline strung along the cave walls as she paddled deeper into the dark cavern, their safety lights reflecting off of the vibrant red and orange coral.

Irritated that she wasn’t following basic marine archaeology protocol, he quickly increased his speed to catch up her, intent on airing his grievances with his board of regents as soon as they surfaced. However, his indignation was short-lived when a cloud of air bubbles suddenly blocked the passage. Concerned about Caroline, he slowly floated forward, taken aback when he saw her furiously struggling against a jagged crevice. Her eyes were fearful as she flailed her limbs wildly, clearly unable to break free.

Hating the helpless look of panic on Caroline’s face, he quickly moved into her line of sight, doing his best to calm her down so that she wouldn’t prematurely deplete her oxygen supply. His presence seemed to calm her down slightly, although she held her body rigid as he leaned closer to investigate the tangled ball of fishing line that prevented her tank from clearing the narrow passage.

Klaus gestured for Caroline to grip her regulator so that it would remain safely in her mouth while he carefully helped her out of the buoyance compensator so that he could cut through the tangled line with his diving knife. Once he’d freed her scuba equipment, he helped her put everything back on, noting the slight tremor in her hands as she snapped the buckle in place.

He watched her carefully as they slowly made their ascent, pleased to see that she’d shaken off her fear and was now swimming with smooth, confident strokes once more. Once back on deck, she’d quietly sat there, dangling her feet off the side as she stared aimlessly at the stunning turquoise waves that lapped gently at the boat.

Sitting next to her, Klaus quietly told Caroline, “I was diving an ancient Greek trading vessel in the Black Sea a few years ago, and managed to get tangled in an old lobster trap. I lost my head for a bit, thrashing about in the water, but fortunately, one of the other divers appeared to help me. Later, he told me, ‘The sea is full of tricks; it doesn’t give up its secrets without a fight.’”

She considered his words, squeezing his hand as she murmured, “I’m used to working alone. I’m very grateful you don’t, though.” she told him, the depth of her gaze searing into him, leaving him to wonder about all the things she’d left unsaid.

Realizing she’d caught him staring at her a beat too long, he replayed her words and finally answered, “Yes, yes, you’ve already established your superior appraisal skills with this site’s artifacts. Fairly certain I caught you drooling over the gold coins of Ptolemy the First you had spread out over the tables yesterday morning.”

“Only because you kept classifying them incorrectly! It’s supposed to be creation date then metal weight, or else those stoner interns you brought along will never get them catalogued properly in time for your university’s unveiling,” she argued cheerfully.

As she carefully set down the idol, she added, “And, it’s thanks to my superior appraisal skills that I secured your funding for this dig site another two years. Seriously, Klaus, you’ve been short-changing yourself for years if you’ve simply relied on a cursory estimated value of the artifacts you excavate. When you write reports to your board of regents, you have to sell them on not only the historical value of the artifacts but also the prestige and interest they’ll generate when unveiled to the public. They care about money and generating even more money under a thinly veiled guide of scholarly endeavors.”

He grumbled, realizing she had a point. “You’re quite well-versed in the duplicitous ways of academia, sweetheart. You must drive your own board of regents barking mad trying to keep up with your exacting demands,” he observed fondly.

Caroline replied, “It’s really more about knowing people and how to appeal to their greed.”

Klaus noted the slightly bitter tone to her voice, suddenly feeling the need to commiserate. “I know a fair bit about the greed in people’s hearts,” he began, resisting the urge to brush aside her wet strands when she jerked her head sharply at his statement. “My father fancies himself a world-renowned collector of priceless artifacts, but he’s actually a foul cutthroat who exploits the black market in an attempt to sate his bottomless greed.”

Raising an eyebrow, she asked wryly, “So, you set out to become an accomplished archaeologist in one of the oldest civilizations known to man out of spite? I can respect that.”

Not wanting to discuss his wretched father another moment, Klaus gave her a brief smile, and asked, “Well, what of your parents then? We’ve been so busy navigating the underwater work site that I’ve barely learned anything about you, love.”

Carefully stowing the waterproof metal detectors, Caroline bit her lip, something he’d learned she did whenever she was debating something. “I never knew my father. You’ll have to tell me if that’s better or worse than having one like yours. My mom’s all I ever had.”

Klaus observed the hard edge her voice took on — there’d only been one other time he’d heard it — when she found out he’d contacted her university to double-check her credentials. She’d been furious that he hadn’t trusted her and much to his chagrin, had forwarded him the incredibly detailed background check his own university had performed when they vetted her to join his research project. “Apologies, love, I didn’t mean to pry,” he replied, “I just thought since we’d been spending so much time together, it might be nice to get to know each other,” he finished awkwardly, feeling the tips of his ears burn slightly at the quirk of her lips.

Caroline shook her head, scattering water droplets across the deck. “I’d like that.” Letting out a long sigh, she helped him carefully place the idols into bins of nitric acid and fresh water to start their preservation. “But, getting to know me is kind of a depressing conversation that requires many, many drinks. So, why don’t we finish up here and the first round is on me.”

The acrid smoke filled his lungs as he made his way through the narrow bar, looking for Caroline. It was one of the oldest bars in Alexandria, a mishmash of old world-charm of the ancient Mediterranean port city with the eclectic vibe of the various tourists that drunkenly wandered in from the cruise ships. Klaus finally spied her blonde waves as she leaned over the well-worn bar to order a drink. When a drunken lout squeezed in beside Caroline and grabbed her wrist, her voice carried over the tinny, muffled classic rock playing through the speakers. “Let go before I make you let go.”

Klaus was taken aback by the heat in her threat — even when furious, her tone was steel wrapped in sunshine. He was distracted from his thoughts when the stranger aggressively jerked her closer, slurring, “Just having some fun, but now I get to teach you uppity bitch a lesson.”

Just as Klaus raced forward, blood rushing angrily in his ears, Caroline’s scowl turned into a dangerous blade and in one fluid move, she’d delivered a vicious uppercut to his sagging jawline with her left fist, and when he quickly released her right hand, she wrenched the boorish tourist’s arm behind his back, effectively pinning his sweaty head to the scuffed bar top with a hard thunk. Klaus arrived in time to hear Caroline hiss in his ear, “Go back to your cruise ship before I teach you a lesson, bitch.” With a final, cheeky pat across the back of his pastel polo shirt, Caroline let the stranger make his hasty, stumbled retreat out of the bar.

Raising an eyebrow, Klaus couldn’t deny the small thrill he felt watching Caroline display this unexpected new side. “Impressive. I dare say you could use a drink.”

As he signaled the bartender, she slapped a brown leather wallet on the bar between them, casually digging through it until she held up a credit card, announcing, “I agree, and it looks like Mr. Saltzman generously has agreed to foot the bill.”

Against his better judgement, he fell for that impish wink she threw him, and slid the card toward the bartender to start their tab. Clinking their beer bottles together, he commented, “Care to tell me where you learned how to fight like that? Or that pickpocket routine, sweetheart?”

Admiring the scribbles in various language along the wall behind them, she shrugged, “I grew up in a rough neighborhood. When no one’s looking out for you, you’ve got to look out for yourself. And I may have picked up a few other...unorthodox skills somewhere along the way.”

As Klaus considered what Caroline wasn’t saying, he asked carefully, “Earlier you mentioned it was just you and your mother. What happened that she wasn’t looking out for you, love?”

“My mom’s been sick for a long time which is why I started taking on more specialized assignments to try to keep up with her medical bills,” she ventured, taking a long drink from her bottle.

Feeling a pang at her confession, he couldn’t help but inquire, “How bad is it, sweetheart?”

“She needs a kidney and I’m not a match,” Caroline told him, worry lining her brow as she stared off into space. “There’s this waiting list and it’s her only hope now and I don’t know what I’ll do if...” she trailed off as she seemed to struggle to rein in her emotions.

Klaus hated how defeated she sounded, all traces of her vibrant personality were gone and she looked so alone that he squeezed her hand. He suddenly felt the unexpected urge to tell her, “I had a little brother, Henrik, who was sick. By the time they found the leukemia, there was only time for a few rounds of chemo...we lost him within a year. I read him Greek mythology stories every day he was in the hospital.” A small, sad smile touched his lips as he added, “His favorite story was the one about the minotaur and the maze.”

“My mom likes me to read Ovid to her when she’s getting her dialysis treatment. We’re both fans of Jason and the Golden Fleece,” Caroline said, nudging his shoulder.

Klaus contemplated his beer as he revealed, “I think that’s part of why I became an archaeologist — to connect with that childlike wonder at ancient myths bigger than the world as we know it. There’s always a mystery to unravel with each new artifact; we’re restoring a bit of humanity’s lost heritage that we never even knew was missing. Unlike the other priceless works lost to the ages and likely never to be recovered like the coronet of Llywelyn ap Gruffudd, or the end piece of the Bayeux Tapestry.”

Caroline’s hand stilled as she reached for her beer, finally grasping it to clink it against his once more, cheerfully telling him, “I’ll drink to that.”

He suddenly was aware of how close they were sitting. He watched her carefully, cataloguing too many emotions to decipher them properly. Heart pounding, he decided to take a chance. He closed the space between them, meeting her lips with his in a kiss that was hesitant but hopeful. Ignoring the catcalls of the drunken patrons, he deepened their kiss, encouraged by the way her hands touched his face, as if wanting to keep him in this moment.

Suddenly, Caroline broke their kiss, her blue eyes full of regret as she told him sadly, “I can’t. We’re heading in different directions and it’s not fair to you. I’m sorry, Klaus.” Not waiting for his response, she abruptly left, disappearing into the night as he struggled to understand what happened.

Several shots later, Klaus left the bar, weaving a bit as he made his way through the market square and back to the cramped office space that had been rented for the research project. He didn’t understand Caroline’s rejection — they were both respected archaeologists specializing in the same regional histories, their research project had been extended for several years — why did she believe were they heading in different directions? His thoughts were muddled from drinking, but he wasn’t sure it would make more sense after he sobered.

He fumbled with his keys, finally fitting the correct one in the lock. He didn’t bother turning on the lights in the downstairs work area, instead slowly trudging through dusty piles of boxes until he was at the foot of the stairs that led to the staff’s sleeping quarters. As he began the unsteady climb, he paused when he heard Caroline’s irritated voice. From the sound of it, she was arguing with someone on the phone. “It’s over, do you hear me? I’m done!”

Was she fighting with a lover? He strained to hear more, not caring about something as inconsequential as manners if it turned out Caroline had only turned him away because she needed to end something with someone else first. “No,” she swore angrily, “no more. I told you I’m done and I mean it!” Klaus held his breath, waiting for her to speak again, but when he didn’t hear anything further, he finished climbing the stairs to his quarters and fell into bed.

The next morning, the sun blinded him, and from his throbbing head, he could tell his hangover was shaping up to need more than his usual greasy breakfast to cure. Groaning, he clumsily pulled on less-rumpled clothes and made his way over to Caroline’s room across the hall. He hesitated before he knocked, replaying last night’s events from their heated kiss to her confusing rejection and then the argument he overheard. He cared for her, but if she didn’t feel the same, surely he could set aside his hurt so that they could continue working together.

Easier said than done, mate. Every time he replayed her words and the regret in her eyes, his heart sank in his chest. Rubbing a hand over his scruffy jaw, he squared his shoulders as he gently knocked. “Caroline? Would you care to join me for breakfast before we start cataloging our excavations?” Frowning when there was no response, he knocked a bit more firmly, her door swinging wide to reveal her bed was already made. Gray eyes narrowed, he noticed that the small closet was open, showing that it was empty save for a few coat hangers. Caroline was gone.

His hangover was no match for the rising panic he felt, terrified that he’d pushed her away with his impulsive kiss. He raced downstairs, unsure what to do. Spying his phone on a desk, he grabbed it, frantically looking for her number. Before he made the call, however, a noise near the back of the office caught his attention.

A local bank had donated a vault to secure the artifacts, and Klaus realized that the noise was coming from inside. Feeling a slight glimmer of hope that it was Caroline, he ran inside, stopping short at the sight that greeted him.

It was the flash of silver on the gun that he noticed first, his gaze tracing the length of the pistol until he registered that it was his father who held the gun. “Mikael,” he snarled, refusing to show this contemptable man any fear. “We haven’t spoken in years. Why are you here?”

Mikael’s smile was cruel and twisted as he revealed, “To finish the job my assistant couldn’t get done.”

Klaus hated the way his father possessively ran his hand across the piles of gold and bronze coins, eyeing the intricately carved statue of Hapy, god of floods, with pure greed. “What are you on about? What assistant?”

He nodded behind Klaus, the blade of his smile sharpening as he greeted, “Why, the lovely Caroline, of course.”

Caroline suddenly entered the vault, stoic and coldly calculating as she studied Mikael. “I told you I was out. I’m not helping you steal this treasure from Klaus.”

Klaus felt his temper rise, forgetting the gun his father had trained on him as he growled at her, “All this time, you’ve been working for my father?! Was anything you told me real?!”

“Yes,” she snapped, momentarily tearing her eyes away from the gun, “My mom was on a waiting list for a kidney but Mikael used his connections to get her kicked off of it. He said he’d only get her put back on if I pulled this job for him.” At Klaus’ noise of disgust, she shouted, “That list is her only chance! She’ll die without a kidney and I already used everything I had to pay her medical bills — there was nothing left to try to buy her one off the black market!”

Despite his anger at being betrayed, he also felt a sliver of sympathy for her situation. It was the most vulnerable he’d ever seen her, even when he saved her in the underwater cave it didn’t compare to the raw emotion he now found in her eyes, and it took everything in him to hang onto his fury. Gray eyes narrowed, he replayed her words, picking up on her obvious familiarity with the black market, not to mention the other unusual traits he’d noticed but carelessly shrugged off. Whipping his head around, he asked Mikael suspiciously, “You could’ve used any thief to steal from me. Why Caroline?”

“Because she’s the best grifter in the world,” he answered with an approving nod in Caroline’s direction, “among her illustrious accomplishments, she stole the end piece of the Bayeux Tapestry from a collector whose family had hidden away for generations.”

Klaus’ gray eyes widened and he couldn’t help but be impressed — the final section of that famous medieval work had vanished sometime before the 16th century. Over the centuries, it only had been spoken of in whispers in the academic and art worlds, believed to be lost forever.

Caroline seethed as she corrected his father, “I’m a treasure hunter, NOT a thief.” Flicking her gaze back to Klaus, she explained, “It’s how I knew so much about ancient artifacts.”

“Obviously, you’re not a professor of Egyptology at the University of Chicago,” Klaus muttered, feeling completely ridiculous — he’d been quietly working on a lecture series that he’d intended to petition his own university to approve a visiting professorship for Caroline once their project grant had been depleted.

Caroline sheepishly replied, “I may have picked up some digital forgery skills at some point,” she shrugged, “I knew your board of regents performed extensive background checks, so I wanted to be prepared.”

Mikael sighed mockingly, “As amusing as this interlude has been children, it’s time to put an end to this embarrassing debacle.” Waving his pistol in Caroline’s direction, he ordered, “Start hauling the treasure to the front of the office. I’ve arranged for secure transport within the hour.”

Despite the obvious danger, she narrowed her gaze at him as she challenged, “And if I don’t? Seriously, do you have any idea how many times I’ve had a gun pointed at me in my line of work?”

While he admired her courage, Klaus barely resisted the urge to roll his eyes at her complete lack of self-preservation. He realized he was subconsciously angling his body as though trying to block Mikael’s line of sight.

Mikael’s voice retained that cold, vicious certainty that had terrified Klaus as a child. “If you don’t follow my instructions, the fact that I will shoot both you and my worthless son is inconsequential. What should concern you is the depraved, agonizing torture I will visit upon your poor, sickly mother once you’re dead.”

“Leave Caroline out of this, Mikael,” Klaus shouted, his heart plummeting when he saw how pale she’d grown the moment her mother was threatened.

The fleeting warmth he felt when she flashed him a grateful smile was doused when his father chuckled darkly. “Useless boy, too foolish to understand he’s already dead.” The deadly click of the hammer as he cocked the pistol echoed throughout the bank vault, and Klaus hated the helplessness he felt, knowing he was about to die.

Suddenly, Caroline whipped out a black handgun that had been concealed behind her back, tucked in her waistband. “Not him, Mikael. You.” She confidently stepped away from Klaus, keeping her cold gaze trained on Mikael.

“You’re nothing but a scared little girl. You won’t pull the trigger,” Mikael taunted her with a sinister curl of his lip. Klaus registered the predatory way his father stalked toward Caroline, and he instinctively moved to protect her.

A shot rang out with a sharp crack, sending adrenaline flooding through his system as he grabbed Caroline and threw them both behind a pile of dusty boxes. As he lay halfway on top of her, he quickly scanned her for injuries while listening for his father.

He was surprised by the gentle press of Caroline’s palm on his back. “Klaus, it’s ok. It’s over.” She moved out from under him, pulling him to his feet as her smile turned grim.

Klaus followed her gaze across the floor to where Mikael had fallen. The small bullet hole was centered in his forehead. A perfect shot. How the bloody hell did she know how to do that? “You saved my life,” he acknowledged in a harsh whisper, staring down at the monster who’d haunted his dreams for as long as he could remember. “He’d planned on killing me regardless of your decision to help him steal the treasure, and yet you risked your own life to save mine.”

As she put away her gun, Caroline looked uncomfortable, shuffling her feet a bit as she muttered, “Well, I couldn’t just let you die after everything...” she trailed off awkwardly. As though noticing the way his eyes kept wandering back to his father’s body, her brow furrowed worriedly and she grasped him by the arm, leading him out of the vault and into their main work area. Biting her lip, she told him, “Mikael said there’s a transport arriving within the hour — so, we have a few options to take care of this. I just need to know whether you want him to have a burial. Or, do you just want him gone?”

His thoughts raced as he processed her words. How in blazes did she know about these things? He thought back to his horrific childhood with that vile creature, and realized that he only felt relief as he’d stared at his father’s corpse. The cold, calm certainty of his voice still surprised him as he decreed, “Mikael was an abusive monster who deserves every indignity you care to inflict.”

Nodding once, she pulled out her phone, typing a quick message. Flicking her blue gaze at him, she announced, “Understood. I called in a favor and everything will be taken care of before Mikael’s security detail arrives. My friend has secured a safe house for you to continue your work at the site and the artifacts will be transported safely.” At his shocked expression, she gave him a small smile, explaining, “He’s the one who commissioned me to find the missing Bayeux Tapestry piece.”

Curious, Klaus asked, “How did you find it?! The bloody thing has been lost for centuries without a trace — How did you even know where to begin?”

Shrugging, Caroline coyly said, “I just happened to hear a few interesting whispers that seemed like they’d lead to an adventure.” Her tone grew serious as she seemed to search for something in his expression. “I’m sorry for everything. I lied to you and while I had my reasons, it doesn’t change what happened. I fell for you, Klaus.”

Laughing nervously, she shoved her phone back in her pocket, playing with the frayed belt loops on her jeans as she couldn’t seem to look at him when she confessed, “I put everything I had into fighting it, but I couldn’t help myself — you’re so passionate about your work and fiercely intelligent when we debate and you have this crazy charismatic pull and my god, you look like you’re chiseled from marble...” she rambled, cheeks flushing. “And I’m sorry I left — it’s just all I’ve ever known; it’s what I’m good at. But it hurt my heart to do that to you, so I came back because I couldn’t stand the thought of what Mikael would do to you.”

Caroline fell for him. Klaus took a breath, not knowing what to say. It was everything he’d wanted to hear, but somehow, it still wasn’t enough. She’d lied to him. She’d every intention of stealing those artifacts, possibly irrevocably damaging his career. How could he trust her after that?

She studied his face, as though cataloguing every emotion that flickered across it. In a small voice, she asked him, “Now what?”

He sighed, suddenly exhausted. “I don’t know, Caroline.” Running fingers through his curls in frustration, he hated the way bitterness started to bleed into his voice. “I don’t know if I can move past everything. I don’t know if could ever trust you.”

She was wistful as she replied, “I understand,” and placed a quick kiss on his cheek as she walked away.

Klaus stopped her when she opened the door. “What’s next for you then? Off on another adventure?” He was still greedy for her presence, wanting to soak up their last moments together, but couldn’t bring himself to tell her how he really felt. Stubborn arsehole.

“In my downtime here, I’ve heard a few interesting whispers that might lead to an adventure.” Caroline winked, taking her heart with him as she walked away.

For the next week, he walked around the new office like a ghost, barely paying attention to his research as his every thought was plagued by Caroline, and occasionally yelling at one of his irksome interns if they dared to breathe wrong in his presence. He was a miserable bastard and knew he only had himself to blame. He let her walk away. Caroline was off on a new adventure and probably had forgotten all about him.

When the package arrived, he’d been staring off into space, remembering the endearing way Caroline used to flush an angry red whenever he argued with her about discrepancies found in radiocarbon dating techniques. She’d been a veritable wealth of knowledge — surely it wasn’t solely the result of treasure hunting. Yet another thing he’d never know about her, he thought grimly. Mindlessly opening the box, he paused when he registered the crudely wrought bronze. A quick assessment revealed two bracelets, an axe head, four sickles and a handful of spear points. Was he actually holding a shipment of priceless artifacts from the Bronze Age?

Klaus’ hand trembled as he recognized Caroline’s handwriting:

“There’s more where this came from. If you happen to be in the neighborhood, maybe you could stop by?”

She’d written a series of GPS coordinates that made his heart hammer with excitement. Klaus knew that this interesting whisper would definitely lead to an adventure.

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#klaroween bingo #klarolinesbuttons #klaroline fanfiction #gift fic #i hope you like your gift #uppity bitch fanfic

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pherryt · 8 years ago

Text

Part 3 of Destiel Marriage Problems (this time with a happy ending) (But beware the angst it still comes with!) So apparently, saying I could do small ficlets and then saying I could finish this in 3 parts was the WRONG answer. This is SO much longer than the other two COMBINED. I see several places where i could have easily broken it of before continuing.

OH well. have 1459 more words of angst with a happy ending!

______________

For the last week and a half, Dean had been crashing on Charlies couch and drinking her stash, while Hannah had to deal with increasingly wet throw pillows from Cas’s crying. Both of them were distraught and enough was enough.

It was time for an intervention.

It was Charlie who came to the conclusion first, calling up Hannah in a rare moment of solitude. “Hannah, I have no idea what’s going on but something is very wrong. They’re too much in love for this. They need to talk.”

“Agreed. Though I’m not all too certain you’ll get Cas to agree to it, not when…” Hannah trailed off and Charlie squinted suspiciously at her phone.

“When what?” Charlie demanded.

“Well, he’s convinced Dean is cheating on him and he’s been trying to gain the nerve to confront him about it ever since.” Hannah’s’ voice was perplexed.

Charlie groaned. “Oh fuck…that’s what this is about? That’s why Cas threw the adoption papers out? Dean, you’re a god damn moron!” She fumed in the startled silence, only wishing Dean had been there to hear her.

“Wait, do you know what’s going on?” Hannah finally asked.

“Apparently, I do. Look, Cas’s fears are unfounded…but understandable. Let me explain…”

Dean wondered what the hell he was still doing there. He sighed, looking around the apartment he and Cas shared. He hadn’t seen much of his husband all week.

To be honest, he hadn’t seen much of him in over a month before that, and it had been wearing on him greatly. But it had been for a good reason. It was the reason he’d come home early with a plan to cook Cas’s favorite things, and finally fill his husband in on what was going on, thinking that Cas might want to celebrate once he’d heard.

And look how that had turned out. Maybe Charlie was right, though? Maybe he should at least try to talk to Cas and figure out why he’d changed his mind. He looked down at the bag in his hands and tried to decide what to do. Charlie had shoved him out the door and told him to ‘go home and figure yourself out’ but now here he was and he didn’t know which way to go.

Tears stung his eyes and he wiped them away angrily as the sound of the door handle jiggling made him whirl in place, eyes widening in surprise when Cas actually came through the doorway.

He looked like hell.

Dean knew what that felt like. He wasn’t sure if he should be happy he wasn’t the only one suffering or if he should run over to comfort his husband and find out what was wrong.

If it had been a week and a half ago, that wouldn’t have even been a question. How the fuck had they gotten here?

“Cas?” he managed to choke out. Castiel froze, head rising to stare at Dean in shock. He’d obviously not expected Dean to be there.

“Dean! I…what are you doing here? I thought you had better things to do?” Cas’s voice was bitter and Dean’s brow furrowed, taking a step closer to his husband.

“Wait…why would you think that?” Dean asked.

“Why would I…?” Cas looked at him in open mouthed astonishment. “Dean, you haven’t bothered to spend time with me in over a month, and you’re always evasive when I ask what’s up. It’s obvious you’ve grown tired of me.”

“Grown tired of you? Fuck, Cas, I missed ya like crazy man!” Dean blurted, taking a few more steps closer. Cas shifted back and Dean froze.

“Well, you sure could have fooled me,” Cas spit out. “I’m just getting some stuff and then I’ll leave.”

“Leave? Wait, no! why are you – you can’t leave me, Cas!” Dean said desperately, moving forward in his panic again. Cas pushed past him with a glare.

“Don’t touch me Dean…not when you’ve been….” Cas sniffled.

“Been what, Cas?” Dean demanded, his own voice wobbling at Cas’s rejection.

“Cheating on me,” Cas’s whispered word were barely heard but they hit Dean like a truck.

“What?” Dean’s voice was barely any louder in his shock and Cas turned to look him in the eyes for the first time since he’d come through the door. What he saw there obviously surprised him.

“You…you haven’t been?” Cas’s voice shook, a hand reached out tentatively to touch Dean, stopping just short of his cheek. “But…why else were you avoiding me? Coming home late all the time and refusing to tell me why? Dean, I don’t understand!” he pleaded.

“You really thought that I…I was cheating on you? Is that why you…” Dean swallowed and reached into his pocket for the two envelopes there. He hadn’t been able to stop carrying either of them. The onion stained one was on top as he handed it to Cas. “- why you threw this away? I thought you’d lied to me about wanting kids. That…”

With hands shaking nearly as much as Dean’s, Cas took the envelope from his husbands’ hands, recognizing it instantly.

It was the one underneath that he didn’t recognize.

In a daze, Cas flipped the second envelope over and stared at the logo, his heart sinking. He reached for the papers inside with trembling fingers. “What’s this, Dean?”

“That…that was supposed to be a surprise. I was going to show that to you the night I found…” Dean swallowed. “I just wanted you to be proud of me. I wanted to be the kind of dad our kid would be proud of.”

“So you’ve been…you’ve been taking night classes? All this time?” Cas stared at him wonderingly, and a little miserably too.

“Yeah, special classes on an accelerated time schedule. It was mostly just insane amounts of testing. I mean, I already know most of this stuff, I just need to get the certifications for it. And I um…I did.” Dean gestured at the paper now open in Cas’s hands.

Cas sniffed and shook and before Dean knew it, he was engulfed in his husbands’ strong arms once again. With an echoing sniff, he brought his own arms up around Cas, the papers floating to the floor as they gripped at each other with desperate, needy fingers, tears now rolling freely down both their faces.

“I’m so, so sorry, Cas. I never meant to make you think that I was…” Dean buried his face into Cas’s neck.

“No, no, it’s my fault. I know you love me. I should have trusted that. I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions the way I did.” Cas croaked out, “God, I was devastated when I thought…I couldn’t stand being away from you. I’m so relieved to know I was wrong.”

Cas jerked back a second later, panic on his face, “Shit, is it too late? What if I ruined everything?”

“Ruined what?” Dean asked, perplexed. “I’m not leaving you. We can fix this, fix us…”

“No, I mean, yes, of course we can, and we will! But I meant…” Cas dove for the floor, landing painfully on his knees and scrambling for the papers he’d dropped. Dean dropped beside him, placing a hand on Cas’s back and rubbing it soothingly, needing the contact with his husband and desperate to help fix things after his mistake.

Finding the papers from the adoption agency, Cas frantically skimmed them over, finally slumping back into Dean in relief, “We still have time.” Cas smiled up at Dean and Dean felt his heart leap for the first time in over a week.

Dean looked down at what Cas was holding.

It was official. They’d been approved and the agency just needed a few last things from them by next week and they’d be parents.

“You mean it?” Dean breathed.

Cas nodded. “I always did.”

“And you’re, you’re staying, right?” Dean’s eyes didn’t stray from Cas’s one iota.

“Of course, Dean. I love you, and I’m so sorry,” Cas answered.

“I love you, too, Cas, more than anything. And I’m sorry too. If I hadn’t hidden this, none of this would ever have happened…” Dean whispered, still hardly daring to believe his ears.

Cas reached out, and this time didn’t hesitate to touch Dean’s cheek, trailing his hand down to cup his jaw. Dean leaned into the touch and Cas thrilled to it. He hadn’t lost Dean after all. He gave his husband a watery smile, “No, it was for the right reasons. I’m sorry I didn’t have faith in you.”

Dean huffed out a short laugh, “Why don’t we just agree that we both made mistakes and put it all behind us and promise to talk next time?”

“I can live with that,” Cas agreed, seconds before their lips met.

Part 1 Part 2

Tags: @princessjimmynovak @destielonfire @zummar

@jdragon122 @feathers-and-cigarettes @rosemoonweaver @madamelibrarian

Also - i just made a new editable tag list on google spreadsheets. Take a look and adjust as needed

#300 words or less #part 3 of a prompt #destiel marriage problems #angst #happy ending

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