#fucking hate it no one asks the admin people enough questions about processes

[dailyrandomwriter]

Day 520

As a general rule of thumb, I may partake in the age-old tradition of bitching about office process changes with my co-workers, but I will always attempt to be chill about said changes. Because frankly… At the end of the day, there’s nothing you can do when a change comes down from on high.

The act of bitching is really stress relief. Besides that, I understand why we do the changes that we do. I might not agree with the execution of that change, but 99% of the time, I understand why.

This is why it really stuck out to me, as I reached the end of my day (and half way through the week) to realize I was profoundly angry with the new database. Angry, because I realized, I had gotten competent at doing the task, but was not reaching old database levels of speed. 

Because the database added ten fucking new things I had to click to complete said task.

I was incensed when I realized this, especially since I hadn’t really managed to complete a single full list of tasks. Sure, I did some of those tasks. I managed to call three different programs, but I never managed to complete the call list for any of those programs. At the time I realized how angry I was getting, I was simply closing files (aka discharging), and it was taking me ten minutes.

Eventually, I had to rethink how I was doing things. I couldn’t afford to write a nice letter to a doctor telling them why their client was being discharged, a simple fax cover sheet saying, they got discharged, here is why that was all I could afford. I had to revamp what the rest of my week is going to look like.

I am also probably going to bitch at management, there’s nothing they can do, but I do want either extra time off or be paid extra at this point.

[kinetic-elaboration]

January 9: Storms

Another brutal day today. I have yet again barely gotten any of my backlog of work done. This doesn’t really worry me personally but I’m a little paranoid about it because my supervisor noticed the number of carts I’m hoarding today… I wasn’t sure if there was an implied ‘don’t’ in there but in my defense one major distraction from work has been listening to her emotional rants about old admin issues that have come up in the wake of our co-worker’s passing, and another has been moving my office, something I did not ask to do right now but nevertheless completed in half the time I was given. That move is officially done, except for the ‘unpacking’ portion. I finished up this morning with the moving of my last essential supplies and all my various printers and electronics. I think it’s going to be a bit of an adjustment: the views are different, the desk sections are a little different, subtly so, but I’m not quite in the same part of the desk that I’m used to… but I also haven’t had much time there.

I’m trying, with mixed success, to keep things in perspective this year. S was yet again impatient to move the fucking filing cabinet. I had planned to move my shit at 10:00 or 10:30 and at 9:45 he comes in and suddenly he just NEEDS to move the cabinet RIGHT NOW. So of course it HAD to be moved in 2 sessions, because he had nowhere to put it but if he had just waited literally an hour he could have moved it in 1. I realize this is a him problem but I just hate this sense of being squeezed, being pressured. Especially, especially, especially, for literally no reason. I just hate when we insist on doing things the hard way when we could do them the easy way.

Anyway, I tried to do some processing, and I also did a lot of just running around, answering questions, keeping up with the latest news about the memorial and remembrance plans… My supervisor is going to be a pallbearer at the service and she mentioned that she had been wondering if she should give my name instead… I do not feel emotionally resilient enough to be in front of people while grieving but I actually did appreciate that she had thought of me as a library representative. There were multiple discussions, in person and on Teams, about all of this, which is understandable, but just a little overwhelming. I also spent about an hour looking through old library photos for pictures of her that could be used as part of the service or memorial. That was fun and also… felt right, but it was tough to think, like, I can’t ask her about this, I didn’t know about that. I felt like I knew her well but there was so much I didn’t know. It’s also sad to see all these old print photos and to think… we don’t document things as well anymore. We don’t do as many events but we also just don’t take photos, especially not communal photos and especially not physical photos. Truly a sign of a world going downhill.

Finally, I settled in to listen to some loud music on my headphones and process books, when my supervisor asked if I was going home early. I asked if she meant for weather or emotional reasons. She said there had been an email about the university “granting liberal leave policies” because of the storm (which had already closed all the local k-12s and daycares)—which is another way of saying the university wants us off their property but we have to use our own leave to do it because they’re pussies who won’t just close the school. I decided to leave early, but I hadn’t eaten lunch yet, so it was maybe a bad idea. Maybe I should have stayed an hour later and left an hour earlier. I would have gotten home before dark still and otherwise been better off. It was very rainy on my way to the bus, windy but without rain on my way to my apartment. But the rain picked up again later and we had a tornado warning. I got home and ate a late lunch, then sat around waiting for my timesheet to be opened back up again. When it wasn’t by six, I gave up and took a nap.

The nap was good in a I-am-in-a-cocoon-where-I-belong way. It was hard to pull myself out. Then I had to warm up again slowly. I eventually scrounged up some stuff for dinner. I still haven’t taken a shower. I still need to do that, pack up a couple things in my bag for tomorrow, and work on my drawer fic, which I’ve worked on every day since the 2nd, which means it’s a streak I rather care about keeping up. I also actively look forward to it. It’s a good way to finish my day.

I really need tomorrow to be easier. I need the work day to be quieter. I need to feel productive. I need to come home and have a normal evening and follow the new routine I’m trying to establish, or re-establish really, for 2024. I need to get some proper rest. I understand it’s okay to be miserable now; it’s appropriate to be sad. But I just worry that I can’t sustain too many days in a row like the last couple—that’s how brutal they’ve been. I’m afraid I’ll start crying at work or be unable to get out of bed in the morning or trip on the sidewalk and break my ankle, or some other kind of ‘it’s quite all of a sudden too MUCH’ moment. I’m just trying to stave that off from happening.

[scintfms]

           hi  kids  !  wow  ,  we’re  already  at  opening  and  that’s  so  crazy  !  i’m  kofi  ,  your  co - admin  ,  and  i’m  so  excited  that  you  guys  are  here  !  i’m  23  ,  from  the  est  tz  ,  prefer  she / they  pronouns  and  i  graduate  from  college  in  a  little  more  than  seven  months  ...  yikes  .  that  being  said  ,  i’m  ready  to  introduce  you  guys  to  my  latest  muse  ,  who  may  have  huge  development  changes  as  we  go  on  because  of  him  being  brand  new  ,  mr  .  saint  moon  !  he’s  um  ...  something  of  a  mess  and  idk  if  i  love  or  hate  him  yet  ,  but  i’m  happy  to  plot  with  ya’ll  on  my  d.iscord  @  𝐡𝐲𝐮𝐧𝐣𝐢𝐧 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐜𝐲.#4090  !

            (  lee  juyeon ,  22  ,  cis  male  ,  he / him  )  *  fun  fact  about  me  ?  okay  ,  let’s  see  .  .  .   an  injury  stopped  my  promising  olympic  career  .  crazy  ,  right  ?  i’m  saint  moon  ,  i  live  in  the  contemporary  new  build  with  a  three  thousand  square  foot  outdoor  patio  on  ocean  lane  in  key  biscayne  , &  not  to  brag  ,  but  my  family’s  worth  around  $740  million  .  pretty  decent  for  real  estate  and  construction  developers  ,  huh  ?  we’ve  been  around  for  some  time  ,  but  in  town  ,  everyone’s  always  associated  me  with  the  gatsbys  ;  but  it’s  not  like  that’s  my  whole  identity  ,  or  anything  .  while  filming  for  key  biscayne  ,  it  was  surprising  when  i’d  get  dragged  on  twitter  for  being  “  errant  ,  impetuous  ,  &  rancorous  ,   ”  but  the  cameras  don’t  see  everything  ,  &  my  real  fans  know  that  i’m  nothing  but  coolheaded  ,  venturesome  ,  &  enamoring  .  i’m  not  too  bothered  by  it  though  ,  because  since  the  series  ended  ,  i’ve  opened  a  highly  successful  café  in  south  korea  and  planning  to  expand  to  the  states  .  follow  me  on  instagram  @SNT.MN  to  keep  up  . 

name  :  saint  moon  .

nickname(s)  :  none  .

age  +  date  of  birth  :  22  +  july  19th  ,  1998  .

astrological  sign  :  cancer  .

myers - briggs  personality  type  :  infj  .

enneagram  type  :  the  individualist  .

moral  alignment  :  chaotic  neutral  .

gender  +  pronouns  :  cis  man  +  he / him / his  .

place  of  birth  :  gangnam  ,  south  korea  .

place  of  residence  :  key  biscayne  ,  florida  .

sexual  orientation  :  bisexual  .

romantic  orientation  :  biromantic  .

occupation  :  former  reality  star  /  instagram  influencer  /  caf��  owner  .

nationality  :  korean  .

ethnicity  :  korean  .

language(s)  spoken  :  korean  ,  english  ,  japanese  ,  and  learning  mandarin  .

social  media  handle  :  @SNT.MN

THE  BACKSTORY  .

            saint’s  story  starts  when  his  parents  ,  moon  ji - ho  and  park  soo - ah  went  on  their  first  date  .  in  truth  ,  it  had  been  a  rare  instance  of  love  at  first  sight  when  they  bumped  into  each  other  at  ji - ho’s  office  in  seoul  ,  and  the  date  was  only  used  to  solidify  their  feelings  .  you  see  ,  ji - ho  and  soo - ah  were  fairly  well  known  with  ji - ho  being  the  second  heir  to  moon  industries  alongside  his  sister  ,  moon  eun -  ha  .  moon  industries  was  founded  in  the  1940s  ,  and  is  known  primarily  for  their  real  estate  and  construction  business  .  the  company  was  founded  in  seoul  ,  and  originally  started  out  by  purchasing  and  renovating  beautiful  homes  and  condominiums  within  the  city  .  after  thirty  years  in  the  business  ,  ji - ho  and  eun - ha’s  father  was  one  of  the  first  in  south  korea  to  reach  the  status  of  billionaire  .

            ji - ho  and  soo -ah  were  looking  to  forge  their  own  path  ,  though  .  although  they  were  lucky  enough  to  have  wealthy  parents  ,  both  of  them  have  always  liked  the  idea  of  working  for  themselves  and  getting  their  hands  dirty  .  so  ,  they  refused  ji - ho’s  father’s  investment  and  decided  to  start  their  own  real  estate  firm  .  they  went  through  the  process  of  obtaining  their  real  estate  license  in  both  south  korea  and  the  united  states  ,  specifically in  florida  .  after  studying  hard  ,  they  were  able  to  open  moon  real  estate  ,  and  it  was  a  hassle  for  them  .  they  initially  ‘ struggled ’  seeing  as  though  they  were  their  only  employees  ,  and  soon  ,  soo - ah  discovered  that  she  was  pregnant  with  their  son  .

            for  four  years  ,  they  worked  hard  with  their  bumbling  baby  boy  ,  saint  ,  crawling  at  their  feet  and  curiously  looking  at  home  or  building  buyers  .  for  a  long  time  ,  they  considered  saint  to  be  their  closer  as  he  was  the  selling  point  and  allowed  people  to  hold  him  while  looking  at  the  home  .  usually  ,  soo - ah  would  use  saint  as  a  marketing  ploy  whenever  they  were  trying  to  sell  to  young  couples  ,  and  it  always  worked  .  the  moons  became  known  for  saint  syndrome  ,  where  those  same  young  couples  would  typically  call  to  say  that  they  were  expecting  within  a  year  of  buying  their  home  .  it  only  took  a  few  years  ,  but  the  moons  were  soon  raking  in  their  own  money  without  the  help  of  ji - ho’s  father  .  

            when  saint  was  six  ,  his  family  relocated  to  key  biscayne  ,  florida  .  life  was  easy  living  on  the  water  ,  and  his  parents  continued  to  sell  gorgeous  homes  both  in  seoul  and  in  the  wealthy  neighborhoods  of  florida  .  with  such  a  lifestyle  ,  it  wasn’t  unheard  of  for  saint  to  excel  at  his  private  school  ,  where  he  was  known  for  his  academic  prowess  as  well  as  his  ability  to  play  both  the  piano  and  the  cello  .  saint  was  a  fairly  popular  student  while  growing  up  ,  and  it  showed  when  the  moons  would  host  their  annual  christmas  party  .

            he  was  fourteen  when  he  finally  started  to  understand  the  rivalry  between  thoroughbreds  and  gatsbys  .  originally  ,  he  put  off  like  he  didn’t  care  ,  but  in  reality  he  was  trying  to  figure  it  out  .  the  moons  were  a  special  case  ,  considering  that  ji - ho  was  clearly  an  heir  to  a  billion  dollar  fortune  ,  but  also  had  become  wealthy  in  his  own  right  thanks  to  his  business  with  his  wife  .  saint  never  understood  that  jabs  and  jeers  that  he  would  receive  from  thoroughbreds  ,  because  to  him  ,  they  were  all  rich  so  what  the  hell  did  it  matter  ?  he  eventually  began  to  side  more  with  the  gatsbys  ,  never  understanding  why  the  thoroughbreds  felt  as  though  they  needed  to  stick  their  noses  up  in  the  air  at  them  .

            within  two  years  ,  though  ,  saint  seems  to  have  changed  for  the  worse  .  while  his  grades  may  be  good  ,  he  begins  to  spend  more  time  with  new  friends  in  miami  .  while  there  ,  he  surrounds  himself  with  fast  cars  and  short  nights  ,  but  he  thinks  it’s  his  parents’  fault  for  buying  him  a  488  spider  for  his  sixteenth  birthday  .  saint  began  to  get  into  trouble  ,  often  pulled  over  for  speeding  and  reckless  driving  to  impress  his  friends  .  like  always  ,  a  star  is  meant  to  fall  ,  and  it  all  came  crashing  down  for  saint  when  he  thought  that  drag  racing  on  u.s.  route  1  was  a  good  idea  .  he  assumed  that  he  could  lose  the  cops  ,  but  he  was  stupid  for  ever  thinking  so  --  he  totaled  the  $1.3m  dollar  car  ,  and  after  being  treated  for  minor  injuries  ,  he  was  booked  in  the  county  jail  .

            having  rich  parents  seems  to  be  all  fun  and  games  considering  they  were  barely  able  to  get  him  out  with  a  slap  on  the  wrist  ,  but  that  very  same  night  they  sent  him  away  on  a  business  plane  to  live  with  his  no - nonsense  grandparents  .  for  the  first  year  ,  saint  pouted  and  argued  ,  screamed  and  kicked  over  being  trapped  in  seoul  .  he  tried  to  escape  the  fortress  of  a  house  in  pyeongchang  ,  attempted  to  ditch  his  security  guards  when  he  went  out  in  public  ,  but  he  eventually  realized  that  there  was  no  getting  out  of  this  .  so  ,  he  made  the  most  out  of  it  :  he  finished  school  ,  and  during  his  senior  year  with  the  help  of  his  grandparents  ,  saint  opened  goodnight  moon  ,  a  late  night  café  that  appealed  to  college  students  and  late  workers  in  need  of  a  coffee  and  pastry  pick  me  up  .  the  café  went  viral  ,  and  so  did  the  handsome  owner  .

            he  returned  home  when  he  was  twenty  ,  and  discovered  that  key  biscayne  was  filming  .  as  the  resident  who  suddenly  disappeared  ,  saint  was  sought  after  by  the  producers  and  was  introduced  mid - way  through  the  second  season  .  

THE  SHOW  .

saint  and  his  family  were  not  introduced  on  key  biscayne  until  midway  through  season  two  .  he  was  introduced  as  most  table  shakers  would  be  ,  with  a  flurry  of  local  headlines  ranging  from  KEY  BISCAYNE  TEEN  ARRESTED  FOR  DRAG  RACING  and  HOW  MONEY  GETS  YOU  OUT  OF  A  JAIL  SENTENCE  .  his  parents  didn’t  like  the  idea  of  being  on  a  reality  series  ,  so  they  weren’t  featured  although  there  were  a  few  scenes  with  them  .

he  was  the  reality  show  villain  and  you  can’t  tell  me  otherwise  !  showed  up  with  an  air  of  what  the  fUCk  ever  and  despite  the  air  around  him  since  he  was  arrested  and  shipped  back  to  south  korea  ,  he  never  let  that  stop  him  ?  like  ofc  he’s  a  rich  boy  who  got  away  with  something  bc  he’s  rich  ,  but  it’s  not  that  he  doesn’t  acknowledge  it  ,  he  just  chooses  not  to  talk  about  it  .

was  definitely  the  subject  of  show  cliffhangers  ,  probably  nearly  got  kicked  off  the  show  because  of  his  short  temperament  and  despite  all  that  would  still  be  invited  to  the  reunions  because  he  would  always  start  some  shit  .  he  was  very  vocal  about  who  he  didn’t  like  on  the  show  ,  and  probably  had  good  chemistry  with  a  cast  mate  and  fans  of  the  show  always  pushed  for  them  to  become  a  thing  (  a  wc  ...  mayhaps  👀 )  but  they  were  never  anything  more  than  friends  .

by  the  end  of  the  show  ,  saint  was  that  cast  member  that  fans  love  to  hate  .  he  was  employee  of  the  month  ,  and  that’s  on  period  !  gave  what  he  was  supposed  to  gave  and  was  highkey  problematic  (  not  in  a  bad  way  ,  but  in  a  way  where  he  was  always  the  one  in  the  middle  of  some  shit  )  and  when  people  would  question  him  about  it  ofc  he  didn’t  care  KFNDSJBFS  .

THE  PERSONALITY  .

a  little  shit  .  that’s  it  .  that’s  all  you  need  to  know  .  although  he’s  standoffish  ,  still  has  his  insecurities  because  he’s  not  the  ‘  perfect  ’  son  that  his  parents  pushed  for  him  to  be  .  very  much  so  the  black  sheep  of  the  family  ,  and  is  deemed  as  a  lost  cause  by  his  thespian  of  a  mother  ,  so  he  figures  that  he  might  as  well  live  up  to  that  name  .  comes  across  as  someone  who  genuinely  doesn’t  care  ,  and  he  doesn’t  KFDBJSFSD  .  sometimes  only  looks  out  for  himself  which  adds  more  sand  into  the  asshole  bin  ,  and  he  hates  being  asked  ‘  dumb  ’  questions  .  it’s  a  pet  peeve  that  his  mom  thinks  he  picked  up  from  his  father  .

THE  HEADCANONS  .

he  does  not  want  to  be  your  friend  KFNDSFUS  .  he  can  be  very  standoffish  just  to  get  that  point  across  ,  and  he  doesn’t  interact  with  people  outside  of  a  chosen  few  .  

can  be  wildly  off  putting  and  while  someone  else  may  be  afraid  of  confrontation  ,  he  isn’t  !  might  be  the  subject  of  bar  brawls  and  minor  scraps  because  he  genuinely  does  not  know  how  to  shut  the  hell  up  .

hates  walnuts  ;  idk  why  that’s  important  but  it  is  .  serve  him  something  with  walnuts  in  it  and  he’ll  never  talk  to  you  again  .

romantically  and  emotionally  stunted  ,  therefore  he  bides  his  time  with  casual  sex  and  noncommittal  acts  of  romance  .  can  be  found  slipping  out  of  beds  in  the  middle  of  the  night  ,  never  returns  texts  ,  and  at  times  will  pretend  that  he  doesn’t  know  who  the  other  person  is  (  ew  !  )  .

a  chaotic  boy  with  a  heart  of  gold  ,  he  just  doesn’t  show  it  and  has  mastered  the  art  of  being  fake  .  

despite  his  repulsion  of  romance  and  relationships  ,  he’ll  flirt  with  anyone  that  has  a  pair  of  legs  ,  and  he  quite  honestly  might  call  someone  daddy  just  for  the  hell  of  it  KNFDH  . 

probably  posts  those  outfit  thirst  traps  on  instagram  reels  or  tik  tok  bc  he’s  annoying  .

THE  CONNECTIONS  .

an  angsty  ex  boyf  👀 if  i  have  to  BEG  for  it  i  will  !  and  i  promise  to  make  you  cry  xD

a  best  friend  pls  !  someone  who  has  been  friends  with  him  since  before  he  was  shipped  back  to  korea  for  a  few  years  so  when  he  came  back  and  was  on  the  show  ,  they  were  THE  dynamic  duo  .

i’ve  been  really  into  his  plot  but  someone  he  works  out  with  ?  maybe  they  don’t  work  out  together  per  say  ,  but  they’re  somehow  always  at  the  community  gym  at  the  same  time  .

something  soft  ?  something  so  sweet  that  it  would  make  my  teeth  rot  ?  could  either  be  a  boyfriend  or  girlfriend  thing  or  tbh  i  don’t  know  but  i’m  literally  looking  for  something  that’s  all  fluff  and  all  marshmallows  and  if  i  don’t  get  it  then  i’ll  cry  .

a  plot  where  they  full  on  hate  each  other  .  none  of  that  cute  shit  KNFDNFHSD  .  no  lingering  feelings  ,  no  moments  of  hate lapse  --  they  hate  each  other  and  it’s  a  spicy  hate  ship  that  literally  gets  your  blood  pumping  .  

SKINNY  LOVE  ARE  YOU  THERE  ?

his  hoodrat  friends  NFDJNHFBD  i’m  kidding  but  i’m  thinking  like ...  a  billionaire  boys  club  type  of  thing  ?  perhaps  the  five  of  them  get  together  and  ppl  try  to  penetrate  the  group  or  they  have  these  instances   where  ppl  straight  up  hate  them  for  no  reason  ?  they  were  probably  the  TALK  of  the  show  bc  thought  they  were  assholes  KNFDJBFBD  idk  either  way  ,  my  hand  is  out  .  (  1  of  4  spots  filled  )

a  one  night  stand  with  some  substance  ?  like  yeah  ,  they  fuck  around  and  they  have  their  fun  together  but  they  don’t  pretend  to  not  know  each  other  in  public  (  unless  this  person  is  a  thoroughbred  and  i  oop  ,  chile  )  so  they  probs  tend  to  be  a  little  like  confidants  at  times  but  also  have  a  tendency  of  shutting  each  other  up  with  sex  .

[p-and-p-admin]

Interview given to The Severus Snape and Hermione Granger Shipping Fan Group.  (sharing here Admin approved)

https://www.facebook.com/groups/199718373383293/

Hello Emma Ficready and welcome to Behind the Quill, it’s wonderful to finally have the chance to chat with you.

Many readers will know you already from works like “Chimaera” and “Sins of the father” for those that don’t,  a Trigger Warning from Emma that  their works contain graphic violence and abuse and may cause distress to some readers. 

Okay, let’s jump right in. What's the story behind your pen name? It's actually my previous name! Although very apt for a fiction writer. Though it's pronounced more like Thick - Reedy, I use it over my new name because my partner does not know I'm a fiction writer, and I  don't think they'd react well if they found out, it's something they'd struggle with. I'm a long term partial carer for them and they have some mental health issues, so I try to avoid any situations that could be a potential trigger. Plus I like having something all to myself. Which Harry Potter character do you identify with the most? I think I would say I probably relate to Severus Snape the most. I can relate to how 'damaged' he is, and how much the bullying he endured as a child, affected the adult he became. Do you have a favourite genre to read? (not in fic, just in general) I think I like to read angst the most, as to me that's more real, I don't generally read stories that are entirely fluffy all the way through. I love a happy ending, but  I can't cope with total fluff because I find it unrelatable, life isn't sunshine and daisies all the time. Do you have a favourite "classic" novel? I don't know if it's old enough to be classed as a classic, but I'd have to say 'To Kill a Mockingbird' by Harper Lee. At what age did you start writing? Very young. I had my first poem published by aged 10. How did you get into writing fanfiction? After being heartbroken at the end of Harry Potter series , I just wanted more and I had been reading fanfiction stories for years. I was constantly looking for stories, I'd get this thought in my head and it was like 'I wonder if I can find a story about this' and when I couldn't I just thought... well why don't I write it? I also find the writing very cathartic. What's the best theme you've ever come across in a fic? Is it a theme represented in your own works? I love hurt / comfort fics. I'm a sucker for it. It is something that I represent quite a lot in my fictions, because I can see both Hermione and Severus in that role in their own individual way. Hermione who is constantly a champion and a voice for others, and Severus who is there quietly and thanklessly fighting for others the entire time, I can see both of them naturally falling into those roles of 'saving' someone , without it being out of character. What fandoms are you involved in other than Harry Potter? I'm not particularly active in any other fandoms, I have always been a Buffy Fan and I love the Inheritance cycle books by Christopher Paolini , though short of reading other fanfictions I am not active in the community like I am with Harry Potter. If you could make one change to canon, what would it be? The epilogue, probably the  most common answer you get  and I know everyone is going to expect me to say because she never should've married Ron, but I can see her marrying him and subsequently divorcing him as being true to Character but I'd change the epilogue because I don't think Hermione would or should ever have settled for being a ministry worker, she deserved so much more. Do you have a favourite piece of fanon? I don't know if this counts but... Severus's Patronus changing after he survives the war. I see the doe as symbolic to the debt he felt he owed her, and I like the thought of the visual change of patronus, representing the emotional change he goes through in accepting the past and moving on now he feels that he's fulfilled his promises. Do you listen to music when you write or do you prefer quiet? Quiet! I love music, the heavier the better actually, but I have to be in the right frame of mind for it. Otherwise I can sometimes get sensory overload. I hate white noise and things like asmr, I often wear hats or headbands, or have my hood up to block out some noise. What are your favourite fanfictions of all time? How long have you got? Honestly that's not an easy question to answer, and it doesn't have one answer. But I could say that some of the stories I find myself reading over and over again are 'Sin & Vice' , 'Another Dream' and 'Lay me low'. There's no way I could write all my favourites down here, but they're the ones I re-read most often. My favourite WIP is probably ' Inkstains' Are you a plotter or a pantser? 90% Panster. I will literally have one small idea, it could  be one small interaction, one conversation or one event that pops into my head and I will end up writing a story around that one small thing. My story signs entirely stemmed from the one interaction of Severus handing Hermione the note. I knew I wanted that, and then it was by the pants from then on How does that affect your writing process? It means that I do update my stories in a regular order, so no one story is left too long without an update. I literally sit down, crack my knuckles and go 'right, I'm writing the next chapter of this story now. I write it and post it as soon as it's finished. I write from my phone too, so I apologise for any grammatical or spelling errors, auto-correct is the bane of my life at times What is your writing genre of choice? Have you read my fictions!? Interviewer: Well yeah, but I’m asking because you’ll be new to at least  some of the audience. (chuckles) Ha. Sorry. Angst, all the way. I write angst and hurt/comfort, very dark stories as I pull a lot of my ideas from the real life experiences of myself and friends I met in therapy. Writing about trauma is very cathartic for me and helps me process my own feelings about my own history. Which of your stories are you most proud of? Why? Did it unfold as you imagined it or did you find the unexpected cropped up as you wrote? What did you learn from writing it? How personal is the story to you, and do you think that made it harder or easier to write? That's a tough one, as there are elements to all of them that are important to me. None of the stories I write quite unfold like I imagined they would, they just sort of take off and I'm along for the ride. I'd be remiss not to talk about Not the Same girl at this point, as that story has probably had the biggest impact for me, the responses it's had and the people reaching out to me, both positively and negatively. I've had some outright hate over that fic, and abusive messages to the point that I almost gave in altogether and I think because of that people will expect me to say Not the Same girl is the fiction I relate to most, and while I do draw a lot from personal experience it's actually Father Mine as that resonates with me on a more personal level, that and an as yet unpublished WIP I have in the works, I think the huge dichotomy of feedback I've had for stories like Not the Same girl though, have both given me a thicker skin to the hate and encouraged me through the sheer overwhelming amount of people who’ve reached out, that find the stories cathartic in dealing with their own trauma, which is gratifying as an author to do that for people, when I myself am looking for that same release in writing it. It's great to have this mutual satisfaction and it's really rewarding. What books or authors have influenced you? How do you think that shows in your writing? I think probably going to refer back to Harper Lee and to kill a mockingbird. The whole premise of telling a story that no one wants to hear or acknowledge, the things that are widely known but rarely spoken about. In “To kill a mockingbird” it's sexism, racism and prejudice against others based on their mental health or intelligence but we still see this so much in daily life, about how much hate and horror and suffering is seen in day to day life, the trauma that so many people have suffered is widely known but swept under the rug because it's easier. No. Hell No. Fuck that. Hiding doesn't change any of it, it may be under the rug but it's still there. People rape other people, people hurt other people, people discriminate based on gender, sexual preferences, skin colour, occupation, people have suffered in life and are damaged by it. Acknowledge it. Don't  brush it under the rug, don't ignore it because it's more comfortable for most people, shine the light on it and say. "This is real. This happens. We need to acknowledge it and we need to do something about it"  And I think that's shown in my writing , I don't glorify  anything, I'm not writing snuff but I don't hide anything either. I make people see this is something that I won't gloss over. Does it make you uncomfortable? Good , it should. If people are uncomfortable , at least they are acknowledging the realness of that situation and not ignoring it. Do people in your everyday life know you write fanfiction? How true for you is the notion of "writing for yourself"? Nobody knows I write fanfiction,  I use a previous name and I very much write for my own cathartic relief. I chose not to share that I write fiction because I'm a carer for my partner, I don't know how they'd react, it could honestly go either way where they'd be absolutely fine or it would trigger them and I'd have to stop, that's the reason I keep it to myself, I'd hate to do something that would mean I'd have to stop writing, not when so many people are so emotionally invested in the stories that I write. How important is it for you to interact with your audience? How do you engage with them? Just at the point of publishing? Through social media? Reviews man. Reviews are the nectar of life, I read every single one and though I don't have time  to reply to most, trust me when I say that I treasure each one and appreciate them immensely. I have my social media which I find the easiest way to speak to people , I have my own Page on Facebook and I'm on a number of SS/HG groups. It's hugely important to me to speak to my audience and I really encourage them to get in touch with me, I'm always happy to talk about my work and people have been in touch just to talk about their feelings or emotions that have been triggered by my work and I welcome it all.  I mean, I've got people translating my stories them into French, into Russian...it's crazy, I never expected it to be so popular and I am always happy to hear from people. Though I apologise if I don't respond straight away,  I have to write on the sly and sometimes real life takes over, so I can't log in for a week or more at a time.   What is the best advice you've received about writing? First and Foremost, write for yourself. The rest is just gravy. What do you do when you hit writer's block? I move on to another story. I always have more than one WIP at any one time, If I can't find inspiration for one, I'll update another, or start a jumble of notes for others. There's always something that needs to be written down, even if it wasn't what I had planned on. Has anything in real life trickled down into your writing? Very much so. Almost all the trauma and hurt and situations that appear in my stories are either translated from my own experiences or those of people I know. Do you have any stories in the works? Can you give us a teaser? I had a number of stories in the works! When A Cure For Magic is completed, I will most likely post the next one up. I can't give too much away , but the next story is called "Catching Fire" and will be an incredibly dark story, with a lot of morally grey characters. Any words of encouragement to other writers? Just do it.  If you want to write it,. write it. First and foremost write for yourself. Don't listen to anyone who's negative ,or unsupportive. I get so many people message me saying things like 'I want to be a writer', but don't know where to start' and to which my answer is you already are a writer. Writing is 99% mental, you have the words, they're there in your head, you just haven't put them down yet. Thanks so much for giving us your time.   Any time , it's been great and I'm happy to answer questions any time , thank you for inviting me.

[spicymishtii]

HE(ART) • Victuuri

Prelude

Victor Nikivorov x Katsuki Yuuri

Parallel universe AU

Belief.

Ignorance is a bliss and a bitch, a generally popular universal truth, but hey, if that bitch has aided you to slap a quarter of your life with a big bold try me placard by your inner self-uplifter and has made you immune to this oh-so-evil humankind, you would believe the power of ignorance is not just a bliss but a fucking blessing. Unfortunately which, it seems only a chosen few possess.

Hence by laws of the hypothetically giving-a-fuck universe, Katsuki Yuuri just so happens to be one of the few elites. Though his ability is not that of intentional ignorance but plain old oblivion.

At the most recent occasion—that is right now—his ignorance can also be replaced with the fact that he’s running so he doesn’t really have much fuck to give to peers turning around from all directions to look at him.

And while that on a calmer day might reassure his questionable fashion choices, today he knows, he knows he smells dangerous enough to cause an epidemic merely by existing.

 You see it was not his fault that his naïve (motherfucking) juniors tried moving an entire rack of chemicals that had just so happened to consist of all variants of Thioacetone.

Of course, the idea couldn't be any worse and by the end of screams, flailings, glass breakings, and trickling of the solutions to any and every corner of the room the lab had come to smell like diarrhea at a super level. He hates college.

After picking his nails while half-heartedly listening to the threats and scolding the ultimate seniors (those crazy Einstein-haired Ph.D. ones) had given to those juniors (who resembled a group of terrified hamsters by then), he reckoned it okay for him to slip out quietly.

He’s sneaky, sue him.

 Cue his professor’s email.

 He has special ding-ring-ring! notification in his baby to clearly inform him of the demise he acquires from his soul-suckers every now and then. Not that he doesn’t like his professors (he loves and respects them thank you very much), it’s just he’s so tired. Almost fourth year into college and he has given up on his personal and social life.

He has even forgotten the last time he masturbated. Rimming his textbooks (plus internet), mating his chemicals and blowing his assignments are on the verge of making him question his sexuality. But then he remembers, how he has always known what he was signing up for all those years back.

 And if he wants to reach the finale, he gotta ace this final. And if he wants to ace the final, submitting his paper on Organic synthesis via Enolates before midnight is a nice starting point.

So he continues to torture his suppressed Usain Bolt gene while eloquently cursing his very respectable prof to be traditional as fuck and not utilize the normal idea of e-mailing.

For the total amount of time and energy his legs have flown him by, he thinks he deserves to be all the way across Iceland, instead, he makes peace with reality whilst reaching the dorms. He’s humble, you’re welcome.

One day, one day, he’s going to go on strike and petition to the admins for a goddamn lift. He has no care about learning to be punctual or money which he knows they won’t have any problem with; he and he’s sure every single living creature in college needs one elevator in their dorms just as badly as Romeo might have all those years back.

But he'll think about it later when his whole third year is not on the line. He needs to get to the most crucial year and graduate the fuck out of this hellhole.

 The stairs squeezed out whatever hope was left within his knees until he’s left banging on the door akin to a lunatic with both of his hands. It’s a bad day—the chronicle since this sunny morning is proof enough—so he wasn’t surprised when halfway through his journey he had realized his dorm keys have been forgotten in his lab coat. Why he had even bothered to flick it out of his bag he doesn’t know but life is all about learning through mistakes so.

He can hear the shrill tone of his platonic soulmate/roommate shouting Who the fuck is this?! from inside but he’s too breathless to answer. The door snaps open only seconds later revealing a fuming owner of three hamsters that are perched on different heights of his body.

The person’s expression morphs into that of confusion then concern then suspicion then understanding and lastly deadpan. Yuuri flings his body on the said hamster-father who accepts him with a squeak and almost imbalance.

Subsequently closing the door and carrying the skeleton, Phichit Chulanot has once again proved himself to be The Best Friend™, something he’s going to rub on Yuuri’s face later.

 As soon as Phichit sits both of them down on their excuse of a couch, Yuuri shoots up hitting Phichit’s jaw in the process.

“You—,”

“Later Chu!” he cuts the upcoming verbal splash fast and sprints inside his room, snatches the file and he’s out the door screaming bye. He loves Phichit for not barbequing him or offering him up to an asylum and staying by his side loyally.

He has been honestly touched since the time Phichit got so used to unearthly smells on his body that he doesn’t even ask or get mildly uncomfortable now, and readily accepts hugs and cuddles from the human equivalent of a drain. He could never thank the universe enough.

He could faintly hear his platonic soulmate’s voice above his head so he looks up while continuing to dash down the stairs and finds Phichit leaning dangerously down the railing of their floor and shouting something he can’t really make sense of.

 “What?!” shouts Yuuri, faltering a little in his pace.

“I said come back home at human hours we gotta be somewhere tonight!” yells back Phichit.

Not again.

“Ugh I’ll try!” he huffs out, almost slipping on the latest step.

“Bitch I’m going to murder you if you don’t get your nasty ass inside before nine it’s important!” screeches Phichit.

“I’ll hecking try I promise!”

“Yuuri it’s really important I have people you need to meet!”

“And I have a year I need to pass I’ll try my absolute best Chi, have faith!” yells back Yuuri and jumps over the last three steps hurrying out the building screaming outta ma way! to everyone around.

 Then, he runs.

 Their campus is a beautiful place with all the ponds and cherry blossoms that bloom at this point of the year. There are a few benches scattered around along with some intricately designed bushes and trees beaming at him from wherever eyes could reach.

Though the inside of their college buildings are technologically advanced, the outer environment gives off an early Japanese town vibe. He isn’t shy to admit his practice of favoritism regarding one particular pond and cherry blossom tree on his way to the library (where his professor probably is doing his own research).

His lungs are quite significantly burning from whatever the fuck adrenaline did to his conscience but he is one obdurate masochist so his voluntary muscles abide by his brain. His throat is all dried up and his breath keeps getting caught, he doesn’t understand why he is torturing himself this way but then a voice in his head answers he doesn’t have enough money to repeat a year so.

At one point his vision blurs but he supposes it’s because of his lack of sleep. Well, he is pretty exhausted.

Nearing the pleasant scenery, naturally, he glances towards his favorite chilling spot but what he sees effectively makes him stop.

 The cherry blossoms, which were supposed to be all fresh and full and thick and brimming with life… is barren. Not a single petal could be seen even beneath the tree, only the desolate brown of winding branches doing little to nothing in shading the newly painted bench underneath it.

It’s detached, the way the bare tree and the empty bench overlook the clear water of the small pond in front; it’s so cold, so lonely, it has never been lonely around it.

A breeze blows by, weakly stroking the skin of his neck and fingers that are exposed. He shivers; it's cold.

It’s spring. He wonders if temperatures can drop so much in the afternoon because he definitely remembers the morning to be all warm and sunny and most importantly, he remembers seeing the tree, the full-thick-jovial tree only yesterday on his way to class.

He, on every molecular level, doesn’t know how what he is seeing right now is even possible. Surely he shouldn’t be the only one right?

His eyes rake over the students running or just walking by around him but none of them look mildly uncomfortable with this situation. He wonders if there has been an experiment or an artificial situation that caused his pretty little blossoms to leave without a farewell.

He wouldn't be surprised if it is so, after all, what he learns on a daily basis about the expertise of this century, he’s sure if there’s something other than criticism that doesn’t faze him anymore, it’s human intelligence. His only discomfort is how and why he hasn’t heard about it of all people.

  There is a buzz on his upper thigh through the thin fabric of his ash-colored pajamas. He slips out his phone and stares at the notification of a text from his classmate informing him of his presence being required asap in the library.

Yuuri mutters a shit and pockets the phone, breathing in to keep the formation of lactic acid at a bare minimum for the rest of his way. He peeks back one last time at his beloved, ready to depart, but once again what he sees effectively freezes him.

 Because they’re full. The fucking cherry blossoms are full.

Yuuri opens and closes his mouth like a fish in the middle of the street to try and explain whatever happened just now to himself.

He fails.

He’s about to start pointing accusingly at the tree to every passerby and shout in their face if they too saw what he did but surprisingly stops himself before making another rash decision in his life.

He keeps standing quietly before he decides that yes he needs to go sleep before he goes mad for real and maybe get his eyesight checked as well.

He turns around, shakes his head to pull himself out from whatever trance he is in and notes to allow himself to rest. As he has only this assignment to submit, he doesn't think anything can stop him from going dead this weekend, so he pushes himself one last time and promises himself a while of tranquility later.

 But this time, he jogs.

 Jogs are quite neat, rhythmic and luckily good for health—he will say if you ask him. Considering the number of times he has jogged to reach his lecture halls or played around with Phichit, he can probably say it’s what that has kept him from wilting away like the autumn leaves after inhaling those oil and grease that comes with the college life.  

If we ignore the biologically healthy benefits of the kind, he appreciates jogs much more because of his bestie, as all things considered, these are the only moments when they both could goof and run around like they're meant to do without having the weight of both their majors hovering over them like a depressing gray cloud. Phichit misses him, he knows. But Yuuri will go down arguing he misses him more and he rarely lies.

  Yuuri stares at the ceiling mutely, a pencil flicking in his hand every now and then.

Phichit glances at him just as quietly while continuing his essay on medieval era music from where he’s sprawled on Yuuri’s bed.

He takes a quick peek at the ceiling then at Yuuri then at the ceiling and then Yuuri. He sums up nothing.

“What are you thinking about? Don’t you have a test tomorrow?”

Yuuri’s gaze doesn’t waver. The pencil between his fingers stops spinning.

“Us.”

 Phichit snorts. “You fell in love with me?”

“No, I have standards,” Yuuri replies seriously (“Hey—”) “I just—don’t you sometimes think we were meant to meet, meant to be best friends—be together till now and years to come—and even if we weren’t, we were meant to die together as complete strangers—if that would’ve gone off—as an apology or like, a tribute from the universe for the friendship that we have today that wouldn’t have existed then.

Like there’s this fate, which decides everything for everyone and time which, like you are to me, is the same to fate and both map and plan out everything for everyone from their beginning till end and all the coincidences in between. People say all those quotes about how we write our own fate but in reality, we don’t write shit.

Time makes us do what we do and fate then gives us whatever our actions have earned—good or bad. We both earned to meet each other—time pushed us to the right point and fate just did its magic in return.

They always leave a door open for what-ifs to be guesstimated; they give us doors to go through—most of the time they pull through whichever door we eventually stand across and sometimes they push ’cause they need to. We were pushed Phichit—we were pushed in that lake together to drown—we were pushed to be saved and then, we were pulled to be friends, slowly, at our own pace.

But what if we would have drowned? What if you wouldn’t have jumped in naively to save me when you didn’t know a cent about swimming? What if it had gotten too late? What if the ambulance had got caught up? What if the doctors failed to push out the water from our lungs? What if we had died, together?

They tend to leave these what-ifs a lot so we reflect. We reflect and either we grow better or worse, unlike itself.  The universe is so stable, isn't it? With all the dark matter and the little white ones in it—quite like human personality yet it’s us who keep changing; we’re irregular, varying.

Besides that, I wonder if any more pushes are left, any more pushes to land me somewhere crucial yet, because at this point I think I’ve utilized all my pulls. Don’t you, Chi? Don’t you think about the universe?”

 Yuuri stares back at Phichit who has gone silent.

Yuuri raises a brow; Phichit closes his mouth.

 “Exactly what’s going on in that head of yours? Yuuri are you… are you okay? Why are you talking like this? Just half an hour ago we were having a debate on Teletubbies—you—what, why?” Phichit asks in disbelief.

 Yuuri rolls his eyes.

“Just because.”

 Phichit looks like he is about to go big bro mode and ask whatever the hell he meant just now but he cannot find a head or tail of how to begin so he shuts up and heaves a breath aggressively.

 “We must, shouldn’t we? we’re not even at quarter to our lives. There must still be something, something big, something extravagant—something that push worthy. They should’ve planned it by now. Fate must be waiting; time is slow. Will you be ready for another ‘Kimi no Na wa’-level change in your life?” Yuuri wiggles his eyebrows.

Phichit sighs and decides to go along even though he’s still one hundred percent blank.

“I’ll learn if not,”

 "Hmm… we always do I guess.”

   Yuuri pushes the door slowly that opens with a haunted creak, the sound pretty much deafening in what it seems a deserted library if not for the clear clicks of keyboard keys from somewhere deep inside. He closes the door as silently as he can with the inevitable old wood creaks.

His slippers tap loudly on the polished marble of fused colors whilst he tries to follow the echo of keys. The library feels odd, this being the first time for him witnessing it so solitary, bleak. He wonders if the students are hidden in corners for their own space. His eyes scan through the shelves to search for anyone, or preferably his teacher. He passes by an aisle quickly noticing motion from his peripheral vision before he backtracks.

There sits his teacher, typing away on his laptop with as much concentration as he narrates his golden days during a substitute class. The volume and number of books sprawled across the table is no joke. Yuuri knows he doesn't want Ph.D. and definitely not Research but the scenes of pure mental torture still cultivates a shudder within him.

 He clears his throat. He is ignored.

He sighs and makes way to his teacher’s chair.

“Sir?” he knocks on the table. His professor flinches hard at the interruption.

“Oh… oh you. Don’t scare an old man that way, you imbecile,” he huffs.

Yuuri ignores the comment (he’s used to it) and retrieves the file from his bag.

“Here, sir. By the way, did you ask for me?” he places the file beside a book lying open.

“Oh yes, yes. I need your help young man. I hope it’s not a bother,” he gives Yuuri a quick look and goes back to typing.

“Sure, no problem,” there goes my tranquility, “What for, if I may ask?”

“Thank you very much Yuuri, it’s really appreciated. You just have to type the rest of this document from this paper I have already written and save it. You can leave after that, just shoot me a quick text,”

“Are you leaving Professor Cialdini?”

"Oh yes. I have a meeting with the other professors in the Science department that I couldn't miss for my life. It’s about you lot after all,” the professor teases, “And I need to get this shithead done and published before I die. I refuse to leave earth without doing it so I’ll be very thankful if you just type out the last page. You’re the most reliable regarding this affair, although a little inelegant but it’s just typing and I couldn’t choose anyone else.”

 Was that a compliment or insult?

“So I’ll be leaving the rest to you,” his professor pats his shoulder to which he offers his trademark smile and nods.

Professor Cialdini takes his file and disappears around the shelf, the echo of his boots fading. Yuuri heaves a long, long sigh and hopes the writing on this one page is at least eligible. He shrugs off his bag and pushes the chair back to sit down following the faint sound of the door closing.

He checks the page closely from where he’s been told to copy and cracks his knuckles. His professor’s handwriting is shit as expected. Floating his fingers above the keys, his elbow knocks out the spectacles case his professor must have forgotten about. He presses his lips in judgment.

  He bends down, folding his body, to retrieve the case and lean back up after getting a hold. Except in the process, his head hits brutally at the table’s edge and he groans, immediately messaging the throbbing area. He tries opening his eyes but everything surprisingly goes into a blur for such a simple hit, it’s as if the blur from a while ago has increased tenfold.

His head hurts not only from the impact but the sides and all over, his head pounds. He senses a feeling similar to being clogged by water. He feels as if he is drowning all over again the way he had those years ago. He can’t speak and his throat indulges to emit only whimpers which are way too cryptic and way too hushed.

He is practically thrashing around in his seat causing the chair to go off-balance several times yet his legs can't find any stored glucose to provide for the use of them.

 There’s a shrill sharp beak of sound in his ears which is raucous and increases the hurting of his skull intensively. He wants to shout but he can’t. He bangs his head down on the keyboard, holding it and tugging his hair roughly. He feels so, so exhausted. Grey dots in a vast plain of blackness keep appearing without fail and it is probably what he sees, feels before his body gives up in place of his fortitude.

End prelude.

[parabellum-rpg-archive]

Congratulations, Joss! You’ve been accepted to play Julius Heller. Your request to change his FC to Chris Evans, and his school to West Point, has also been approved. Please make your page and send it in within 24 hours.

Admin note: Hi, I’m obsessed with the detail in this application! I love how much thought you put in to his motivations and his history with Karina. I can’t wait to see Julius on the dash! - Admin M

IC INFORMATION —

CHARACTER DESIRED

Julius Heller

DESCRIBE THE CHARACTER IN YOUR OWN WORDS

Julius was pretty much force-fed the need to sacrifice for God and country from the age of 3. His father intended his son to follow in his footsteps, maybe be a full-bird colonel or even a general. Julius was smart and adaptable, he had to be with how he grew up, and he didn’t have close ties to any one place in particular. Add on a father whose love and respect was based solely on how willing Julius was to say how hi when his father said jump and you have the perfect candidate for the clandestine services. People from happy functional families don’t tend to become spies.

Working for the CIA wasn’t quite what he imagined, but it was thrilling nonetheless. His focus was Russia and working dealing with bot farms and counterespionage. He ended up dealing with the Russian Mafia’s encroachment on the US and developing connections in the mob in Moscow and St. Petersberg. After the Ukrainian revolution, he was sent to the Crimea to gather intel about Russian separatists and the Ukrainian forces trying to fight back against them. He ended up deep undercover, dating the daughter of a Russian-backed politician suspected of funding anti-Chechen terrorist activities.

Karina. Oh Karina. She wasn’t the first love of Julius’s life, but she was the one who got to him when he was vulnerable and in need of someone to hang onto. She was trouble, the kind of trouble he should’ve known to avoid, with a drug problem and an attitude that she could get away with anything because of who she was. But she got him in important doors, and lying next to her in bed at night made him feel like someone might love him at least a little for who he really was, even if he wasn’t sure who that was anymore.

Karina got into a new kind of trouble: playing at the games her father was involved in. She didn’t seem to understand why Julius would object, when he was the one neck-deep in it too, and it resulted in a fight that only ended when she called him to tell him she was pregnant. She also revealed that she’d been using his name to engage in all kinds of bad behaviour and had gotten him so deep in shit that even he couldn’t get out. He was going to get pulled by his handler and be sent back stateside. She told him if he left her, she’d reveal everything he’d been up to and make trouble for him with the Russian Mafia, blowing up his whole mission. She knew just enough that if she told the wrong people, he’d get outed and burned and probably end up dead.

While he was trying to find a way to bring her home with him, still convinced that they could have a family and be together, despite all the evidence to the contrary, Karina disappeared. At first, Julius assumed she was doing it on purpose to force him to acquiesce to her demands. Then, he was simply frantic, using contacts he only had for life or death situations to try and find her. She was found by Ukrainian police in an alley, dead of an overdose. The media called it a tragic accident and hinted that it might be a suicide, while her father accused first the Ukrainians and then his own Russian contacts of having her killed. Only Julius knew that the Chechens had been tipped off about her involvement in her father’s business there. And that sent him down the rabbit hole of not knowing whether or not his own organization was to blame; whether they’d weighed the likelihood of his own death or hers and come up with an equation that he couldn’t be a part of.

There is Julius pre-Karina and Julius post-Karina, and it’s the defining moment where he went against God and country and had to discover who he actually was as a person. He’s still figuring that out. What is the difference, after all, between someone who commits crimes for personal gain and someone who does it for the flag? Is he any better than a criminal himself? Half his co-workers retired and became arms dealers or corporate security chiefs who engage in morally grey activities in foreign countries where no one is watching. Who is he if he’s not the good guy? He’d always believed that a good guy doing a bad thing for the right reasons was better than a bad guy doing the same thing for the wrong reasons. Now he’s not so sure there’s even such a thing as good guys and bad guys at all.

His involvement with the Sinclairs has left him feeling even more confused. If he’s keeping someone safe, but he’s doing so for criminals, is he better than he was when he was getting people killed for the government? His moral quandaries are something he tries not to dwell on, the kind of man who acts and doesn’t worry about second-guessing because it will get you killed, but years of turning off his moral compass has made it impossible to shut it off anymore.

What’s worse is there are people in the Sinclairs that he likes, that he cares about, who matter to him. Not getting attached was supposed to be part of his job, but having done it once with Karina, it’s become a habit he doesn’t know how to quit.

All of this would suggest a brooding, angsty man who weeps into his whiskey quietly in his apartment while it rains, only of course he’s too manly to actually weep. But Jules is the opposite of that. He’s had to become pathologically well-liked as part of his CIA training, and it’s carried forward into his new line of work. He can sit down at a table and make friends with whoever happens to be there, so that by the end of the evening, he knows the name of everyone’s spouse, children, mistress, and favourite sports team. Jules can get secrets out of people and they don’t even realize he was the one who asked in the first place.

He doesn’t let a lot of people in, and even when he found Paityn and protected her, almost on a whim, he still struggled to let himself care for her. She reminded him of Karina, trouble that needed him and fulfilled that part of him that wanted to be the knight in shining armour when he’d spent his life hiding in the shadows. But she and her mother have wormed their way into his life, so that he now even has weekly coffees with Penny to discuss her family and frets over Paityn if she doesn’t check in even on his days off. He’s dangerously close to considering at least part of the Sinclairs as something almost like family, which he hasn’t had since he joined the service, and it would frighten him if he let himself think about it.

WRITING SAMPLE

Once upon a time, Julian Helmann had thought he knew what right and wrong were. Now he knew he had no idea. After years of wearing a variety of masks and using so many different names that he sometimes forgot which one was real, he was back in the country that he’d loved but never really known. He had a new identity, which had cost him his retirement fund. His former handlers at Langley had agreed to quietly retire him provided he accepted that Julian Helmann was burned in the intelligence community, never able to work for any government, disavowed by the service and made known to every agency willing to listen. He’d signed along the dotted line and hadn’t told them all to eat shit, because he was too tired to care. It was over, that was the important thing.

So he was now Julius Heller, and that was who he would be for the rest of his life. Or until something new happened that required him to leave this one behind. He’d learned not to rely on anything remaining the same. Being adaptable was what kept you alive.

He’d picked Chicago because it was unfamiliar to him. He’d never lived there with his family growing up, there were no military bases near enough to bother him, and it seemed like a city that didn’t require you to have a past. No one needed to know his life story, they simply knew that he was here now.

Case in point, he’d been coming to the Sinclair bar for a month and had made friends with three bartenders and five locals. None of them cared about what he’d done before arriving in Chicago, other than making sure he wasn’t a fan of the wrong sports team. He’d spent his life worrying about the motives of every stranger he came across, so it was refreshing to know that he was surrounded by people engaged in the kind of lifestyle that meant he already knew what their motives were, and that they didn’t care about him. Maybe he’d spent too much time in Russia. Maybe he couldn’t really get along with anyone but criminals anymore. When you’d spent fifteen years of your life learning how to do a thing, it was simply possible you couldn’t stop.

Of course he knew who they were. He’d chosen the bar for that very reason. What better place to blend in than a bar where everyone had rap sheets and a pressing desire not to answer questions? They weren’t even that bad, as gangs went. They didn’t kill your whole family as a lesson if you fucked up while you watched. Chicago had been run by the Irish and the Italians, who would probably hate to hear that that marked them as soft when it came to organized crime syndicates, but Jules had chosen it over places with a heavy Russian influence. Sure, the Russians were moving on Chicago, they moved on anywhere they could, but they didn’t have a stranglehold on the place yet. If they did, he supposed he would have to leave. He was used to that.

There’s a quiet after an explosion that most people don’t realize. The blast itself isn’t so much loud as it is an attack on the senses. You don’t even process it as sound because it blows out your eardrums. And then there’s just quiet, and a ringing that slowly grows louder and louder. You can feel it in your head, your teeth, your chest. You’re dripping blood from your ears, your nose, anywhere the shrapnel has hit, and the world feels a lot like if you’ve been pulled into the undertow, and you don’t know which way is up. It is one of the most disorienting sensations, and there’s no way to get used to it. Whether it’s your first explosion, or your 30th, you handle it the same way, which is badly.

Julius was outside the bar, which wasn’t hard, since there was now a much larger entrance than there had been, wondering if Vladimir had found out who he was and had sent a message about the thing in Vladivostok. A man pointed a gun at him and was probably screaming, Jules’s ears hadn’t adjusted yet. He’d be at least half-deaf for three days. Reading lips was never as accurate as people thought, but even in his current state, Jules could tell it was in English. And more, that the man didn’t have Soviet teeth, so he wasn’t Russian. Ukrainian, maybe?

“Ya ne rozmovlyayu anhliysʹkoyu.” I don’t speak English. Julius couldn’t even hear his own voice, didn’t know if he was shouting it or if it just felt that way. He kept his hands up, trying to wipe the blood off of his face on the inside of his elbow. The words, “fucking Sinclairs” was clear enough that Jules felt comfortable assuming this was not, in fact, a hit on him.

While debating whether or not to simply lie down on the ground and let things take their natural course, he saw a crumpled form with hair that caught the streetlight glow. It was a girl. She reminded him suddenly of Karina, the way they’d found her behind Yuzhnoe. He’d looked at the crime scene photos, still had them, couldn’t stop looking, as if something was going to finally tip him off and tell him for sure what had happened.

The yelling man with the gun had stopped pointing it at Julius, also having noticed the girl, and was walking towards her, firing and missing. The Costellos really needed to offer better firearms training. Julius shot the man in the head three times in quick succession, twice in the main body cavity as well just for good measure. Scooping up what turned out to be a handy little assault rifle that was definitely not street legal, Julius kicked the corpse several times just to be absolutely sure.

The girl was small, smaller than Karina had been, she weighed almost nothing as Julius rolled her over and checked for injuries. His hearing was fucked, so he kept having to look up, checking for cops or reinforcements. When he saw them coming, he was disappointed to realize it wasn’t the cops. Cops he could handle. This was going to be complicated.

Throwing her over a shoulder, he flicked the gun to semi-auto and sprayed a pattern directly at the oncoming car, causing it to spin out and hit the curb trying to avoid the bullets. That gave him time to unlock his car and toss the girl into the back seat. Button-lock cars were really a lifesaver.

The street ahead was suddenly blocked off by an SUV, and the car behind was moving to block him off as well. Fabulous. Turning, he noted that the girl was coming around. “Hey, I need you to get down and hide in the foot well, okay? Just … don’t move and don’t open the car for anyone. I’ll be back in a minute.” After a moment, he dug his phone out and tossed it to her. It was a burner anyway. “If I’m not back in five minutes, call 911 and then the first number in the contacts, tell them you need an extraction. Someone will come, okay?” Looking out the window, he judged he had maybe 30 seconds before they were about to have company. “Everything’s gonna be okay, I promise. You’re gonna be fine.”

Four minutes and 12 seconds later, he opened the driver’s side door, dripping blood from a graze across his bicep. It would sting but wouldn’t kill him. The SUV that had been blocking his path was now on fire and the one behind them had a small semi-circle of bodies around it. The girl was still there, looking dazed and so small. Her eyes seemed to take up most of her face. Karina’s face had been different. He reminded himself of that. Not the same. Different girl, different country, different him. “Let’s get you home, okay?”

[atdelilah]

as per request: HEY THERE DELILAH WHAT’S IT LIKE IN ASHMONT CITY anyways what’s poppin y’all, it’s ya girl jalynn, back at it again with ya new girl delilah whom i based off of a mixture of the gotham city siren gang (aka catwoman, harley quinn, and poison ivy)!! i’m very excited to throw her at yall

i guess the easiest way to dive in is to just explain her backstory so here goes:

she is the youngest of two girls, and her parents own/run the biggest catholic megachurch in the state so. she’s rich, she has an image to live up to

as expected, that plan flops

her older sister, abigail, very much fits the “good christian daughter” mold, but delilah is just way too curious, and asks “why?” in the middle of church service way too often to even get close to fitting that image

yes, our girl has had problems with authority and being told what to do from a very young age

naturally, her parents were hating this very, very much and this is how the seed of a very bad relationship with your parents is born

but on the bright side! delilah and her sister were close as could be, two peas in a pod when they were kids!! they were basically polar opposites in terms of personality (delilah being the kid who will ask “why?” every time you speak vs abigail just respecting authority because what else was she supposed to believe?)

that was basically how her early childhood went. her parents wanting her to be more like abigail, delilah being like “okay anyways”, and abigail being angel girl that her parents loved the most

so then comes middle school (a tough time for everyone), and stuff in delilah’s life is either hitting the fan, or taking root so it can hit the fan later

the first thing to hit the fan: her relationship with her parents. at this point, delilah figured out that no matter what she did to be her own, her parents would never stop wanting her to be a clone of abigail, so honestly? she just stopped caring about their opinion altogether

they already were set in their belief that she was disappointing, and annoying, and just too much, so why not just do what you want anyway? that’s delilah’s thought process

she just blatantly started ignoring their rules, really. she started questioning her faith in more targeted ways, she started finding ways to sneak out of the house, and went out of her way to break her parents’ “no dating” rule

also it’s important to note that delilah went to an all-girls’ k-12 catholic school and she HATED it. she snuck out because she just wanted to hang out and go to normal schools like all her rich, non-catholic neighbors. plus her mother worked at the school, and delilah took any opportunity to just do the exact opposite of whatever her mom asked of her

basically, delilah liked finding ways of reclaiming her autonomy and personal identity because her parents’ worked so hard to try to take it away from her! it’s at this point where we see her begin to do things simply because they make her feel powerful and independent! middle school, am i right

the biggest downside to this is that it starts causing problems between her and her sister. with delilah being in middle school, and abigail being in high school at the time, it’s already obvious that problems would arise just due to the differences in age. but the differences between the two only became more evident as they got older; abigail was constantly ready to go tell on delilah, and delilah was always taking jabs and saying abigail didn’t have a mind of her own. arguing was a regular occurrence. the sisters still 100% loved each other, for sure, but it’s a tough age phase they’re going through, plus there’s just no such things as siblings that don’t argue.

now we’re in high school, another horrible and weird time for teenagers across the nation, but especially for our girl delilah

her parents are so beyond sick of her at this point, really. the only reason they haven’t completely cut her out is because it wouldn’t look good if they did r.i.p

delilah stopped going to church altogether, she’d gotten busted on her escapades multiple times (not that she cared, really), and the “no dating” rule was just.....so beyond ignored

the seed had been planted when she was in middle school, but when she got into high school, delilah just completely embraced how pretty she is. boyfriends, girlfriends, flings, sexual partners; you name it, she was doing it. she didn’t really know she was gaining a lil’ heartbreaker reputation because honestly? outside of the whole power trip it gave her, she was really just having fun ahdgashdgsdj

( small disruption to say drug tw here )

big downside to high school: in the midst of her constant sneaking out and rule-breaking, she fell into some things and people that she shouldn’t have, and by her senior year (17/18 years old) she’d developed an addiction to a small variety of drugs

like any addiction, it did have big effects on a lot of aspects of her life. her grades (which she generally took pride in) were slipping massively, and all of her relationships (friends, romantic, familial aka with her sister) were falling to points that were nearly beyond repair

abigail, being the big sister she is, was extremely upset about the whole situation and basically convinced their parents to check delilah into rehab and they were on board with the plan, not because they cared about delilah’s wellbeing, but because the way she was spiraling was a liability to their image in their eyes

so now delilah is 18, she’s graduated from that k-12 all-girls school (no longer at the top of her class), and is promptly checked into rehab, we love this for her! but she absolutely hates the whole thing, so .

she didn’t hate the literal getting off of drugs, but what she hated the most was that she felt like she’d proven her parents right. to her, it was one thing to let them just assume the worst about her; it was a whole different feeling to actually give them something as big as this to root their assumptions in.

but that (plus the underlying desire to not worry her sister) was enough for her to take being rehabilitated very seriously. she did what she had to do and was out by the beginning of the next school year! probably one of the first times in her life she actually followed instructions from authority figures, honestly. but she told herself she was doing all of it because she wanted to, not because she had to.

also just something to add, it was in rehab where delilah got super into poetry and reading and classics!! it’s not like she had an abundance of things to do at her disposal, so she picked reading as a hobby to pass time but ended up being really into it. it was one of the first times where she felt like she had a purpose in life outside of living to fuck with her parents asjdhaskdjha

fast forward, we now have senior year college girl delilah!! she’s 3 (going on 4) years clean off everything she was addicted to!! we love this for her determined queen

she’s also worked really hard to rebuild her relationship with her sister and they’re back on very, very good terms. she’d do anything for her sister, period

but delilah is still delilah, she’s still a lil heartbreaker, she’s still hard-headed as ever, and she’s still got a variety of other things to learn about and grow through but i don’t wanna talk all about it here and make this longer than it already is asjdhakjsh onto the next part!

personality!

+ independent, dedicated, passionate, sensitive but lowkey she’d rather die than admit it or show it

- stubborn, prone to isolating herself mentally/emotionally, self-sabotaging, good liar but she considers this more of a skill to use here and there

100% will do anything for the people she loves......now that list isn’t necessarily long but. once you’re on that list, you’re On that list

the investigation.....

okay so basically delilah is 100% anti-daisey

she didn’t really know daisey too well growing up and didn’t really care to asdjkhasdkjh but they were both in rehab at the same time so they officially met then

but daisey enjoyed picking at delilah’s little insecurities and also talking shit about her sister, and like the picking on her was like "eh i don’t like you" but talking shit about abigail? l m a o

basically if delilah hadn’t been so determined to be on her p’s and q’s in that rehab center, she woulda beat daisey’s ass, and that’s point blank period

plus delilah just didn’t like daisey’s attitude or anything even aside from how daisey treated her specifically, like just the way she treated others turned delilah off of her

so yeah when daisey turned up missing delilah was just like that....is not my problem 😗

when daisey turned up dead delilah was like damn 😗 sucks to suck r.i.p though

i’m not saying delilah killed her or anything but i’m just saying. delilah’s got a short temper and probably had to be held back anytime daisey said anything funny about abigail (which was all the time bc like. it’s daisey)

and the whole killer on the loose sending messages thing creeps her out but like. she’s very much a go with the flow, look at the big picture kind of girl so she’s just. trying not to let it phase her too much

connections!

y’all already know i’m not picky about anything just throw an idea at me and we can make something shake

and i think that’s about it? like this, or hmu or anything if u wanna plot i’m really excited for all of ur characters to talk to the kid!! also can u guys guess which gotham city siren i pulled the most inspo from (admins not allowed to guess bc u guys already read my app)

[archiveddvrpg]

Congratulations, MINNIE! You’ve been accepted for the role of MIRANDA. Admin Kaitlin: Oh Minnie. God knows that I love Maeve, but you bring something to her that even I don't think I love her enough to ever understand how to put to paper. She is just... god the way you write her makes me want to say that is is made of pure light, that she has a soul that glows so brightly you could see it from the moon--but she is so much more than her goodness, so much more than her heart. You write a Maeve that is fierce in her softness, courageous in her love, and is so brutally herself that it just breaks my heart. I am so glad to have you back writing her. Please read over the checklist and send in your blog within 24 hours.

WELCOME TO THE MOB.

Out of Character

Alias | Minnie

Age | 23… ugh I hate that I’m 23

Preferred Pronouns | she/her

Activity Level | I’ve been pretty active so far on Paola, and I hope to continue being so :) I usually do replies when I need a mental break from work or in general at home, and it’s been working out very well for me. I would give myself a 7/10.

Timezone | EST

Current/Past RP Accounts | I really don’t think that’s necessary at this point hehe

In Character

Character | Miranda.

What drew you to this character? | I’m here for a third try!! I love, adore, Maeve, she’s so sacred to me and I’ve tried to leave her alone but.. I miss her!! It’s still that pure goodness and undeniable strength that calls to me now, just like it did before. She has so much potential and she lives so far off the ground that her head is in the clouds. It’s easier to touch God this way — but it’s also much farther to fall. I just love her you guys know how much I love her idk how not to love her, she’s a part of me at this point.

What is a future plot idea you have in mind for the character? |

I never did get to write Maeve learning how her mother died, and I’m adamant about making it happen this time. Last time, I made Montagues the source of Maeve’s mother’s death - but I think this time, I’d like to make it the Capulets who intentionally manipulated the situation to recruit Philip into their ranks. I’d like her to try, so damn hard, to be accepted by the Capulets to please her father and to save them all… only to learn that they were the ones to destroy her and her family first, that she owes them nothing but revenge. Oh man, I’m getting goosebumps just thinking about it.

I’d also like to see Maeve intentionally dismantle Montague/Capulet animosity - or rather, try to. She has such! a soft! heart! and it is undeniably hard to not love Maeve, so I have no doubt that this is exactly what will happen. I’d like to see her become a Joan of Arc again, a martyr for the sake of love, willingly throwing herself into the fray to protect one and to protect all. I’d like to see it go to shit, of course - but I’m hoping that first, Maeve will be disillusioned by the Capulets already and considering going rogue, running away from Verona, etc.

With Maeve being so lovable and also fucking stubborn, I imagine she has quite a bit of information under her belt. I’d like to see someone use her for her information, information that she may not even realize is valuable - Juliana’s favorite color, her father’s weapon of choice, etc. I’d like to see her be manipulated because I think it’s incredibly realistic, and she can appear to be an easy target — though of course, they’d be wrong. Maeve has a certain way of getting under someone’s skin, whether it be through her goodness or her kindness or her surprising ferocity.

Are you comfortable with killing off your character? | I KILLED HER ONCE AND IDK IF I CAN DO IT AGAIN but we’ll see. :)

In Depth

Please choose between the interview or the para sample (or both, if you like!)

In-Character Interview: The following questions must be answered in-character, and in para form (quotations, actions written out if applicable, etc). There is no minimum or maximum limit for your response - simply answer as you would if you were playing the character.

What is your favorite place in Verona? |

“Oh, there are so many.” Maeve folds her legs against her chest, resting her chin atop her knees and smiling like she has been offered a present. With the light falling in from the window behind her and her curls surrounding her face like a halo, she looks younger than her nineteen years. Far younger - but there is a knowing look in her eye that stands the test of time, makes them question their assumption of her age.

“Okay, I’ll tell you my favorite place, but you can’t tell anyone.” She leans in conspiratorially, nearly falling off her seat as she did, “it’s Verona’s hidden gem, I swear.”

Maeve waits for their promise before continuing. “There is a small local market on the outskirts of Verona, just at the city’s edge. It only sells secondhand goods, but that’s the best part of it - everything sold has already been loved, and buying things there feels like letting another person into your life. You know?”

They shrug their shoulders, not able to understand her fascination with used junk. Maeve’s smile does not dim, actually glows brighter still; she’s used to not being understood, and she knows how to take discouragement in her hands and mold it into something kind and gentle. “It’s like, everything there has such history behind it. And when you take something like that, something that’s kind of old but so precious that the owner can’t bear to throw it away… it’s like you’re keeping that love alive. And the best way to honor love is to keep loving, even when it’s hard. Even when it’s a little rusty or needs to a good thunk before it turns on.”

She shrugs and presses her cheek against her knees, looking up at them sideways through her lashes. “Do you get it now?”

They swallow, and slowly nod. Yes, they do.

What does your typical day look like?

“With a really annoying alarm,” Maeve laughs. “And then I try to stay in bed for a little bit longer, but if I take too long, Papa will leave without breakfast, and we can’t have that.” Well-fed men are alert, she remembers learning, and the hungry die first. “I always start by making breakfast fresh for the both of us, and if I can, I meal prep for the next two meals, too. It’s a nice and slow start to my day, and I’m always grateful for a chance to take my time and enjoy every small moment.”

Her head cants to the side as she ruminates on the rest of her day. Her mornings are the most consistent part of her day, the most cherished hour as the light trickles into the Petre home and Verona waits for Maeve to enter its embrace. “After that, I go to work at the flower shop if I have a shift that day. Sometimes, I go to the library and read everything I can. Or go to the coffee shop and people watch for awhile. It really depends!“ 

They quirk an eyebrow. “What about school?”

Maeve hesitates, eyes shifting from left to right to make sure her Papa is not around. “Someone has to stay home and take care of the house,” she says once she’s confident they are alone. “I could have gone to university, and I was really excited to go for a long time, but…” She sighs, dreamy and sad. “There are more important things, and I am still learning so much now without being in school. The world can wait for me. My Papa, though - he needs me.”

Her lips lift to a small and secret smile. “More than he knows.”

What has been your biggest mistake thus far?

She remembers her Papa coming home, his shadow sinister in the moonlight and the blood staining his hands and his cheek. She remembers swallowing her fear and asking, quietly and plainly, what he was out doing. If she will let herself, Maeve knows she can feel the same drop in her stomach and the sudden, violent urge to vomit at his feet.

She remembers marching up to the Capulets and demanding recruitment. “Enlist me,” she remembers saying, “and I will be the most valuable person in your army.”

She remembers the glint in their eye, an old friend of her father’s and surely a pawn in the Capulets’ game. “You have no experience with violence, weapons or warfare. You’ve been kept in the dark your entire life, and you think you offer value?”

“Yes." 

She remembers their approving hum. She remembers the quick and rapid process of becoming a Capulet as her Papa watched, horror in his eyes. She remembers being proud of herself.

No, joining the Capulets is not the mistake Maeve is thinking of.

“My biggest mistake has been letting the world make decisions without me. My entire life, I’ve loved Verona more than anyone - and never once did I ask the right questions. I thought I knew my Papa, thought I knew Verona.. For so long, I lived… I lived a lie. Because I never tried to see what was right in front of me.”

Her fingers are shaking, Maeve realizes with a start. She folds them together and wills them to stop trembling. “It won’t happen again.”

What has been the most difficult task asked of you?

“When I told my Papa I planned to join him in the Capulets, he was furious.” Maeve fiddles with the ring on her right ring finger, a dainty thin gold band with a single diamond in the center. Her mother’s engagement ring, and her most prized possession - and often the first sign of her emotional turmoil. “It was the first real fight we had,” she reminisces out loud, “and he insisted I take it back.”

Her lips twist regretfully as she recalls how ugly their words had gotten. “He asked me to be my mother’s daughter - not his. He told me I was meant to be a flower only, his little girl… and I was.” Her voice cracked. “I am." 

Maeve clears her throat quietly and takes a second to gather her composure. When she speaks again, it’s with undeniable conviction and passion: “I cannot be less than who I am, and I will be the one to decide who exactly that is. And right now,” she smiles, “I am a Capulet.” 

What are your thoughts on the war between the Capulets and the Montagues?

“Haven’t you heard?” Her eyes are sparkling, as if they are sharing some private joke. “I’m the poster child for anti-war.”

But the joke is short-lived, and before they get the chance to smile along, Maeve’s expression sobers and the atmosphere of the room changes. "It’s a never-ending circle, and it is destroying us. We’re sacrificing everything that truly matters: the people we love, the city we live in, ourselves. And for what? Revenge?”

She bites her lip, unmistakeable distressed. “I won’t fight in this war. I know I’m young, and I know I’m just a soldier — but I will be stronger than my Papa. Where he was weak, I will be strong for the both of us.“ She pauses, and then — "For my Mama, too.”

Maeve smiles kindly, knowing the reaction her speeches usually receive. If she believed any less, then she might even be sorry — but her ideals are too important, and she will be damned if she even considers apologizing for them. “I know that this might be hard to understand. We have lived like this for so long, maybe even without realizing it. But I do believe there is hope. For Verona, for all of us. There is a brighter day coming; I just know it.”

In-Character Para Sample: Again, write as much or as little as you need to get your interpretation across.

I.

“Papà, you must remember. Please, tell me you remember,” Maeve begs, her hands clasped together like a child’s prayer.

Her eyes are just like her mother’s. The thought comes unbidden before Philip can close his heart against it. The memory of his first love, staring up at him with eyes as warm as the earth, with all the feeling in the world — it is crippling and heartbreaking and all too much. His heart falters at the reality of her death as he remembers and relives it, over and over again.

She is just like you, Maria.

He takes another hearty swig from his glass, avoiding his daughter’s gaze like she is the angel of death.

“Papà,” Maeve says again, her voice a low whisper. “Papà, please.”

How can a girl so young move his heart so? His own flesh and blood, and he is too afraid to look at her for fear that he won’t be able to breathe.

Another swig.

“Oh, Papà.” Before he can close his arms and resist a child’s love, his daughter is climbing onto him, curling in his lap and pressing her ear against his chest. “I forget, sometimes.”

She is searching for my heart. The poor creature. She won’t find it. My heart is gone, it is torn into pieces and all that is left is something cold and silver.

“I forget that you must miss her, too.”

The cup falls to the floor, and Maeve flinches in his arms at the crash of it — but still, she holds on tight.

He answers her unspoken question gruffly, his throat raw and blistered: “Yes. Yes, I do.”

“I miss her, too. But… Papà?”

“What, stella mia?”

“I miss you, more.”

And this is the final crack in his chest; and the river is opened up to him; and silent, steady tears begin to fall.

“We don’t have to talk about Mamma. It’s okay. It’s just you and me now.” A hand holds his cheek like a ghost used to, in another life.

But that was the past, and this is the present, and the future is in his arms trying to save him from the darkness he carries, the darkness she is too young to understand. He knows it is Maria’s influence; such light could only come from Maeve’s mother, for Maria was the sun that carried the weight of his entire sky.

He will not fail Maria, and he cannot fail Maeve. He will pour his heart and soul and mind unto Maeve until he can hardly recognize himself, and he will hide his burdens from Maeve so she will never look like him.

Maria. Maeve. Maria. Maeve. 

“How I love you, stella mia.” With newfound courage and determination, Philip holds her close. “How I love you.”

“Oh, Papà. I love you, too. 

* Maria: meaning “sea of bitterness” or “sea of sorrow”; “rebellion” “wished-for child” and “mistress or lady of the sea”

II. a diary entry

A long time ago, I was afraid of the night. I can’t tell you how or when it began, but I have carried this childish fear with me for too many years to count. I thought it was a part of me, just another piece of the puzzle that had no origin and no explanation. There was so much that I did not understand: my father, my mother, the world I so longed to see.

But one day, I thought. One day, I might understand it all.

A long time ago, I was afraid of the night, but I loved it, too. When the sun had set and the light had all but faded, the sound of the one you love coming home would ring out like church bells on a spring morning; the smell of cigarettes would hold tightly to the air like an embrace after a long, weary voyage. 

For the night brought many terrors, but it had some comforts, too; didn’t all nightmares end with the whispered comforts of I am here, stella mia, I am here and the day will come and the monsters are only bad thoughts who have overstayed their welcome?

A long time ago.

A long time ago, I only thought of my father returning; I did not know and did not even think to question where he was returning from.

I shall never forget the emptiness of his eyes. I shall never forget the tired droop of his shoulders, the black silhouette of his that seemed so familiar at night. I shall never forget the silver in his hair, which I had not seen before until the moonlight brought its cruel light to every secret I had not considered.

I tried, very hard, to forget the red. I chose to remember the rest, the cold silver and black and blue of it all — but the red, I desperately tried to forget. But I could not let go of the scarlet, as hard as I tried.

I… had a reason for staying up waiting, for running to see him. I can’t remember it now, but — there was a reason.

Ah, I remember. I wanted to read him a poem.

I was a child.

He did not say a single word that night. He shook his head, ever so slightly, and walked away.

Papà. Beloved Papà. 

The burden of knowing and still not fully understanding has haunted me since. For even after seeing him in the silver and black and blue and red, Papà merely patted my cheek and sent me on my flowery way. I felt so small, so strange, as if I could hardly recognize myself.

He told me that when I was older, I would understand. I wanted to tell him that I have been waiting my entire life to understand. Even as a child, I so yearned to know about the mother I didn’t remember, and I never received an answer. It pained Papà to hear talk of her, and it pained me to see him weep. So I stopped, but I always wondered, and I always dreamed of a woman’s soft hands and laughing eyes.

I never told him this… and maybe if his secret had been softer, forgiveness would have come so easily. I can empathize with shielding the one you love from pain.

But not like this. Not like Papà did. It wasn’t just his secrecy that wounded me deep to the bone; it was the secret itself. I would never have imagined Papà, who was my entire sun and sky, to be… like that.

It wasn’t just the fact that I didn’t know everything about him. It was that when he came home in scarlet, I didn’t recognize him at all. It was that I loved him still, even with my shattered heart.

I have made peace with this. It might seem strange to you that I can say with full confidence that I have forgiven Papà and that I still love him as my own sun and sky, after writing all of this. But I have. My love for him is stronger than any betrayal, and even that night cannot steal that from us. 

These thoughts are so much louder these days because tomorrow, I will be a Capulet soldier. I am older now, just like Papà said, and I must know why Papà ran to their shadows all those years ago. For I have come to the conclusion that to love someone is to know them. 

Tomorrow, I will know. Tomorrow, I will begin to understand.

Or so I hope.

III.

Each night, Maeve held her bleeding heart in hand and tucked it under her arm to keep it warm while the wind howled with despair. Be still, my heart; the sun will rise again, and the war will be ours to win.

Because it was a war, though not the one the Capulets enlisted her for. No matter what they told her, Maeve would choose her own battles, and she was determined to fight for peace until it was Verona’s triumph — for she had no other choice, for the only alternative was to lose her father and her home to blood and guns. 

From the shadows, a man appeared: her target. Her mission was to retrieve the full payment for an order placed exactly one month ago. He was a new, and so far unreliable, client, and therefore needed extra… encouragement to pay the Capulets in full.

The job fell to Miranda, who had never run a solo mission before. Though she might be green, she was confident; she had impressed the others with her sheer will, if not her skill with the knife. They might not take her seriously yet, but they would, for Maeve was determined to make her voice heard.

“They tell me you’re called Miranda,” the man said.

“Yes,” was her simple answer, short and straightforward.

The street lights illuminated the cruel crook of his lips, the sharp slant of his brows. “They also tell me that you are here for my money.” He was sneering at her, his lips curled in a resentful snarl.

Maeve stepped forward, the softness of her eyes coming to view. “That’s true.”

At the sight of her pretty face, the man’s expression shifted to one of surprise. “They sent a pretty girl like you,” he moved closer, “alone in the middle of the night?”

“Is that so strange?” She adjusted her grip on the knife hidden in a sheath inside her sleeve.

“Not strange,” the man shook his head, “dangerous.”

“Dangerous?” Maeve offered a kind smile as she continued to adjust her fingers on her knife’s grip, wondering — if she needed to bring it forward. If her knife was worth using at all. “I appreciate the concern, but I think you know that we don’t send soldiers into battle unprepared.”

“What battle is there, girl?” His laugh was unexpected and rang false in the night, too jaded to be true. “You think I don’t have the money? You think I won’t pay?”

“I don’t think anything. I’m here on orders, and orders alone, to retrieve the payment in full for the last transaction between you and the Capulets.”

He spat onto the ground and thrust his hands into the pockets of his pants, staring off into the night sky. “It’s all about money with you folks.”

“Not all of us — but you did make a promise, sir, and you must honor it. It is the gentlemanly thing to do.”

The man fell silent for a moment, and when he spoke, it was with the barest hint of vulnerability. “So you think I’m a gentleman, huh?”

“I assume most men are gentlemen until they prove otherwise,” Maeve said gently.

Her compassion seemed to ease the man out of appearances and reveal his true nature; a look of panic came over his features, wild and dangerous. “What if I told you I didn’t have the money?” A tremble shook through every word, and his eyes seemed to widen by the moment. “What would they do to me, then?”

She wanted desperately to reassure him, to tell them that she was only a soldier, new and inexperienced and unknowledgeable. But it was not that Maeve did not know; it was that she did not agree. For how could Maeve threaten (or worse) a man who, in that moment, seemed so human. 

“I… don’t think you want to know,” she finally answered, sympathy passing over her features.

The man groaned and threw his hands in the air. “I had the money, I swear I had it. But then that bastard got me drunk and the women were so pretty…”

The tale of a proud man, who wanted nothing more than to prove himself. Maeve sighed and loosened her grip on her knife. There would be heavy consequences to bear for her next words, but there was nothing else she could do. For her heart was soft and could not bear to harm another. “I will do my best to grant you an extension.”

The man breathed out a long sigh of relief, wrapping his arms about his torso tightly like a congratulatory embrace. “Thank you, thank you. You are kind, Miranda, kinder than I deserve. Tell them that I will have it immediately, I only need a little more time. Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

“Please,” Maeve only let a hint of desperation show in her tone, “don’t do this again. The next time, you will not be forgiven so easily.” With a nod and a faint smile, she turned and walked away from the now-incoherent man. 

She would pay for this later — but nothing worth having came without a price.

Extras: If you have anything else you’d like to include (further headcanons, an inspo tag, a mock blog, etc), feel free to share it here! This is OPTIONAL.

I kept a few headcanons from the old app I thought still applied:

Knives. When Philip first handed her a 9mm Glock 17, Maeve’s hands shook as she forced her fingers to wrap around the grip. He put his hands on her shoulders and methodically explained just how to use a weapon, and when he stepped back, she knew it was not in her. She turned to her father with silent tears already staining her cheeks and pushed the weapon back into his hands. Papà, a gun is for killing, she said gently, and I am not a killer.

But to be a Capulet was to wield a weapon like a musical instrument, a paintbrush, a masterpiece; so Maeve chose the knife, for at least it was more than just violence. Just like her, a knife could be both sharp and soft, it could be used for bad and good. It all depended on her choice, and Maeve knew that she would always choose good.

Part-time job. Maeve works at a local flower shop in Verona, making conversation with the regulars and reading a book when the shop is slow. It’s a nice way to pass the hours, and she’s been there for so many years that it’s become a second home.

[kpopwishes]

Yandere Taehyung// Part 4

        Warning: Mentions of Non-con (If you’re sensitive to this don’t read this part of the story)

Admin Minsoo~

I hate this story lol

 It was currently Saturday afternoon, Taehyung unlocked the door early this morning before he left for work. Hesitant at first, you finally grasped your trembling hands onto the slippery doorknob. When you walked outside of your room you tiptoed into the kitchen, still unsure if he was here or not. You smiled at the bread and cold soup he left on the island. You shuffled your feet towards it in excitement and took a tiny bite out of the bread. The bread was a bit stale, but it was better than nothing. You noticed a green sticky note left on the rim of the bowl. It reads, “Daddy will be back baby girl, I’m bringing my friends again so make sure to dress in something cute. Daddy was a bit disappointed last time, you know I don’t want anyone looking at my baby’s gorgeous legs. Cover them up for me.” You thought back to last night and then it hit you, you were dressing a bit provocatively. Why would he care whether or not you dressed a bit revealing? It was your body anyways. 

You gulped down the rest of your bread and soup and placed the dirty bowl in the sink, setting a reminder in your head to wash them later before Tae arrived. In the distance, you heard a telephone ring. You don’t remember the last time you heard that sound. Then you start questioning why there was a phone in the house. Anyways, the phone was really tempting so you practically ran towards it to answer it. Your hands touched the glass screen and swiped to the right. Heaving out a shaky breath, you finally gathered enough courage to answer the pestering voice on the other side of the line. 

“H-hello? Who is this?” Your fingers grasped the phone tightly waiting for a response. You felt your knees growing weak with the passing time it took the guy on the phone to finally answer back. When he did he chuckled slightly and a raspy voice answered: “Is this Tae’s phone?”

You nodded your head, your locks bouncing with the movement, but then you realized he couldn't see you so you answered with a low hum instead. He sighed and said, “Well I assume Tae isn’t there yet so I guess we are going to use the spare key and let ourselves in.” You could hear people in the back protesting, you could pick out a voice that was complaining about not having food in his house. Your eyes widened and you wanted to ask where they were going and how they know Tae, but the question didn’t leave the tip of your tongue. You wondered if Tae would be okay with this, but the letter from before put you a little at ease. Maybe these people were his friends from last time. 

“You’re Taehyung’s friends, right? I could just let you in. Aren’t you the people I saw last night? Could I ask your names?” The husky voice on the other line guffawed and replied, “Wait, you’re asking too many questions. I don’t think you are even allowed to know. Just know your place and let us in the damn place.” He paused for a moment and added something that sent your heart into a frenzy of panic. “You don’t want to make Tae angry? Do you?” The name of that man sent shivers down your spine. The man talking to you on the phone sounded a bit sketchy.

“N-no, sir. I don’t want that.” You managed to stutter that sentence out in pure terror on what would happen if you didn’t. “Good girl. We will be at Tae’s house in a couple of minutes, so put on something nice. I want to see what Tae has been hiding from us.” He chuckled and then hung up the phone. Oh no, this wasn’t good. You dropped the phone back on the table you got it from and ran towards your room to follow what Taehyung and what the man on the phone said. What did the guy mean when he said he wanted to check out what Tae was hiding from him? The inner conflict was just too much for your brain to process so you just groaned in annoyance and glanced through the many clothes Tae brought for you. There was just so much pink. It was so nauseating it made you stomach curl within itself.

You finally settled on a white shirt tucked into a blush pink tennis skirt. The skirt material felt velvety between your slender fingers. Still, too much skin was showing so you decided to put on some white stockings with bows on the back to avoid any unwelcomed sexual contact. You shivered at the thought and stepped out of your room to wait for the doorbell to ring. While waiting for the notorious doorbell, you questioned the way Taehyung acted from time to time. He acted as if he loved you and treated you like a doll, but then the next second he would completely neglect and disregard you. The rage was eating at you but you knew if you reacted you would suffer something that wouldn’t even match the fury you felt. You weren't sure what that man was capable of doing but you knew he was dangerous,  even his friends were cautious around him. 

You were taken aback by the sound of the doorbell, instantly growing nervous with every passing second. You could hear multiple excite voices behind the door. The doorknob trembled, next thing you know the door was open revealing a handsome man. He was a bit thicker in the muscular region than Taehyung, his silk-like strands of hair went from dark brown to a lighter brown, which complimented his sun-kissed skin. He noticed yo staring at him, his lips curled over his teeth, releasing the most beautiful smile you’ve ever seen. His teeth were perfect and white and it didn’t go unnoticed that he had one cute dimple on the left side of his cheek. He leaned on the door frame to support himself so he could switch to his shoes to his samples he brought in a bag.

One after another, all six well-built males waltzed in and made themselves at home. They made themselves cereal, went to the bathroom, and played games on Taehyungs TV. Maybe it was a small case of sensory overload, but an unknown emotion ran through you. The last time they were here they were kind of chattering amongst themselves, but seeing them move and laugh caused your legs to almost gave in to the excitement. Yes, the men frightened you, but they made this house a lot more bearable to stay in for the day. You felt a pair of eyes bore into the side of your head as you watch everything happen. You whip your head around to see that it was the man with the deep dimples. He made his way towards you and took fairly too close, it was uncomfortable. He lifted your chin upwards, almost as if he was inspecting you like a scientist would look at a mutant rat.

You lightly pull away from his hold to avoid getting anyone angry, but he just chuckled at your action and ruffled your hair. “Cute.” was all he said before he turned on his heels and sat on the couch. You were completely dumbfounded and overwhelmed with everything happening today. A young boy with a bowl haircut and had teeth slightly bigger in the front said, “Hey hyung! Can we order pizza?” You guessed it was directed towards the brunette on the couch when he answered with a low hum while scrolling through his phone. The young man whisper-shouted a yes and dialed a number on his smartphone. 

You shuffle uncomfortably in the place you were standing, your feet ached but you had a feeling you were not allowed to go back to your room when these guys were here. You winced as you shifted from side to side, this action caught some attention from the man on the couch. He beckoned you over with his large veiny hands. You gasped at his action and hesitantly walked towards the living room. You sat on the side of the couch that was furthest away from the smirking male. He scooted his body closer to you and placed his hand on your locks. “You didn’t follow my directions, I thought I specifically told you to show me what he’s been hiding.” He leaned into your ear and whispered, “Should I just take a peek myself?” He grabbed the bottom of your skirt and his fingers lightly grazed your inner thigh. Your breath hitched and you immediately closed your legs, which was a bad idea. He chuckled and dug his fingernails into your thigh. You hissed in pain and next thing you know his hand snakes around your waist, his hand dangerously close to your breast. You whimper in disagreement, you peer at his face and what you saw scared the shit out of you.

His pupils were an inky shade of black, clouded over with an emotion-like lust. He ran his tongue over his lips and flashed a toothy grin. He physically pulled you closer, by lifting you up and positioning you on his thigh. You yelped at the sudden action and wiggled in his grasp. He hushed you a few times and whispered a few, It’s okay’s. You continued to wiggle around and he clearly got irritated. He growled in frustration and he slapped your thigh. You didn’t want this, you clearly didn’t want this so why was he continuing? 

“S-stop please I-I” You burst into a sob, slapping his strong hands away from your body. You whimpered when he grasped tighter around your waist and thighs, trying to get his hands between your legs again. “Come on, let me make you feel good. I’ll treat you better than Tae.” No, this guy was worse than Taehyung, he never forced you into something you didn’t want, hell he didn’t even touch you in the way this guy was doing to you. You screamed were drowned out by the action movie, you heard the laughter in the kitchen and you were pleading to get their attention.

You didn’t even hear the door open. When you opened your eyes all you saw was a furious Taehyung, grasping groceries in his hands. “Who the fuck told you to come over, and who gave you permission to touch my toy, Namjoon?” Suddenly all the chatter stopped and the groping on your body paused. You had a few stray tears in your eyes threatening to drop.

“Ta-Taehyung!”

Namjoon grips your thigh harder and chuckles confidently. Taehyung looked insane at that moment, he walked calmly towards your frame, towering over you and Namjoon. “Tae, you always let us play with your dolls, what makes this one different.” Namjoon grabbed Taehyung by the shirt and pulled him towards his face, “Don’t tell me you're going soft.” You noticed Taehyung shifting uncomfortably under Namjoon’s harsh gaze. He harshly glared at you and positioned his hands on your wrist, he pulled you upward in one swift motion and pulled you close to him. 

“No, I’m not going soft but this is my favorite so far. If you're going to use her make sure you ask me first. I don’t want her bruised up by you or Hoseok, so avoid beating her.” Taehyung then dragged you across the hallway, leading you towards what you assume was your room. He placed his slender fingers on the doorknob and pushed you into the enclosed space. What really confused you was that he followed you in. 

You blink in confusion. he locked the door and spun around to face you. His eyebrows were furrowed and his mouth locked in a stoic expression. His eyes were anything but warm. He was fuming.

“Taehyung, I’m sorry I couldn-”

All of a sudden he started laughing. It wasn’t a humorous laugh, It sounded like a cackle. He held his stomach and tears fell from his eyes. He finally managed to calm down and his face returned to a toothy grin. “I wanted to wait before I made you mine, but I guess I have competition.” He eyed your room and dashed towards your closet. he ripped everything off of the hangers and put it on the bed. He then moved to the drawers and pulled everything from sweatpants to underwear out of them and placed it on the bed. 

He stared at the pile of clothes for what seemed like an hour. Finally, he turned to your direction and beckoned you over with a crazed expression. You immediately obeyed. He didn’t look sane at all, which scared the shit out of you. You felt your legs tremble and your heart was beating erratically. “From now on, your going to sleep in my room. I’ll do whatever I want with you and if you don’t obey, I’ll give you to Namjoon. You wouldn’t want that would you?”

You shook your head furiously and you felt tears making themselves present. You didn’t know what you did to deserve this. His hand made contact with your chin and he forced you to look at him. “Daddy doesn’t want that either you know. They are ruthless baby girl, I don’t want you to go through that.” He kissed your forehead and patted your head. Why does it seem like he actually cares for you? The reason why he scares you was because he was unpredictable, you don’t know what he’s capable of. 

“Stay in here for the rest of the day and play some games. I’ll be back to pick you up later in the afternoon.” He took out his keys and closed the door on you. You could hear him fumbling with the lock through the other side of the door. You let out a shaky breath you did’t know you were holding in. 

You needed to find a way out before he snapped and killed you.

He wasn’t mentally stable.

So I wanted this chapter to be extra long because I’ve sort of neglected this story. I honestly don’t know where I’m going with this but I’ll try to think of some ideas lol. Don’t forget to like and repost to let us know you love our stories!

Until next time!

Admin Minsoo~

[clarenecessities]

6/20/17

hell of a day, folks. hell of a day. as some of you may recall it is extremely rare that i am genuinely angry--last time was about six months ago, and the time before that? four years. unfortunately it does have a tendency to make up for lost time bc i have been known to fly into a rage (none have been directed at other people since The Dark Times, which we’re not going to talk about today)

so basically: we’re doing locker room clean outs, right? like we go through and we cut all the locks that are still on lockers (we gave them upwards of a month’s notice to clear them out) and then bag the stuff up and label it in case they come back like “uh hey my locker is gone and also all my shit”.

yesterday went pretty smoothly, but lucie and emma weren’t there today so it was me, Charlie, Lani, Ali, John, and Briana. A brief breakdown:

Charlie is our staff facilitator, a position which was invented specifically for him because he is one of the most dedicated employees this facility has ever seen, and was passed over for a lead position when Ray (our boss) selected the two people who he had worked with the most--which were unfortunately just the people who had been kissing his ass the most, Adam (a condescending misogynist who hasn’t been in the building for upwards of a month) and Lani. Charlie actually does his job, which is saying a lot at the CRC tbqh. Charlie is my adopted son and I love him, damn it. As staff facilitator, he basically runs the ops staff (me) and does what needs doing. He also does every part of Adam’s job that hasn’t already been pawned off onto Lani.

Lani is one of our two leads. She is very, very young for a lead and socially reads somewhat like an anxious child who can read the vibe, but has no idea how to respond to it. She’s very friendly and loves to give compliments, but hates all negativity. It amplifies her awkward fidgeting by like a hundred. She’s John’s long-time girlfriend and has recently (since her promotion) become friends with Ali.

Ali is the worst.

John is very hard-working, genuine, and generally a positive person. The only fault I’ve noticed is he follows direction without consideration, so he can be pulled in several conflicting directions.

Briana is the younger sister of one of our former ops staff, and basically lives in the awkward zone Lani sometimes inhabits. She’s very young, a moderately hard worker, and desperate for approval but not recognition.

picture the scene... a humid, smelly locker room covered in discarded pieces of trash and waiting baskets. the morning begins with lock-cutting, which continues unimpeded for the better part of an hour and a half, until Lani has to go upstairs for a meeting.

chaos descends.

charlie and i had just finished cutting through a lock specifically designed to resist cutting, and subsequently had to cut off the latch of the locker because we twisted it so bad. (this locker had been locked for the entirety of my CRC employment, like... there was a card in there that expired in september of 2014.) we were trying to cut other locks but our arms were under a little too much strain, so charlie was like alright, i’m calling a break.

so we all rest for about fifteen minutes. charlie went somewhere else so the break room was me, ali, briana, and john. it was..... hell. ali was like “hey where did lani go” because she doesn’t actually listen when lani speaks, so i was like “she said she had a meeting.” Now, a little more background: Ali is being trained in admin functions. This is essentially a meaningless distinction in regards to hierarchy, and instead reflects pay scale. Emma is also being trained, and doing much better, and I’m going to start training next week. if they’re asking me to do it? it’s not about hierarchy. anyway. Ali started fucking power tripping. she was like “oh well is it an admin meeting” and i was like “no, charlie didn’t know about it” because charlie, as staff facilitator, must be present at admin meetings. ali has visibly decided that not only is staff facilitator a fake position that she won’t recognize, but that her actual fake position conveys real power, and says “yeah but if it’s admin then i should be up there“ like no, ali, you really fucking shouldn’t. you are living in an Assistant TO THE Regional Manager world, my dude! anyway she kept asking me fucking questions about it and eventually i was just like, “dude, if you were supposed to be there, lani would have told you” and she stopped.

oh i forgot to mention, during the lock cutting phase i asked her why she had the american flag on her cast and she was like “oh because i love america” and i was like “oh cool so you hate the flag? that’s what this is?” & charlie and i had to explain the flag code to her. not the part about not using it as a costume or whatever: The existence of the Flag Code. it’s also just like a really fuckin’ ugly cast, it’s more stars and bars than stars and stripes... she fucking voted for trump though so hey whatever’s racist enough for you i guess

at the end of the break, charlie comes into the breakroom and says, quote, “let’s get jiggy with it” and gestures to the locker rooms, so i like get up & we get back to work, right?

the others stayed. either they didn’t understand the pantomime, or they weren’t done talking about mediocre horror movies, which they’d been doing when i left.

so twenty minutes later, after our allotted fifteen minute break, they mosey back on into the locker room and begin bagging. charlie’s more irritated than i am at this point--i was mostly like, alright, whatever, at least i don’t have to listen to them circle jerk it for another twenty minutes. it took all three of them, working together, to bag one row of lockers, in additional twenty minutes. contextually: they had to empty a grand total of three lockers. the majority of the twenty minutes was spent either gaping at a jar with some spit in it, or by ali complaining that her leg was on fire. i should add that she’s in a cast because she broke some toes about a month ago, she’s got one of those little cart things that she’s wheeling around on rn--not a wheelchair, like a scooter with a high bench. anyway she physically couldn’t cut the locks and so had been sitting around the majority of the morning distracting the others, and was now spending the noon complaining for anyone within earshot, which was everyone.

charlie and i, meanwhile, had finished cutting all the locks, and were now onto the bagging process. we cleared four rows in addition to the six additional locks we cut while they were all working on their three bags.

i was mostly tuning them out and focusing on the content of the lockers, because charlie was getting the stuff out and i was writing it down

at the end of this twenty minute interval, they approached charlie and me and said ray had given us $20 dollars for lunch. ali suggested the greenery (our campus cafeteria), which is ludicrous for a number of reasons, foremost among them being that the greenery Sucks, and that it costs $10 per person and there were five of us. i suggested pizza but charlie was like ehhhhh bc we had pizza yesterday and normal humans don’t subscribe to my unholy eating regimen--but it was too late. they’d already seized on the idea. so at 12:26 (i checked my phone) they left.

a half hour later, as we were wheeling bags back to the lost and found, we saw them talking with lani in the hallway. they continued to talk until about 1:08, at which point state troopers were doing a patrol of our building as part of their wider sweep of campus, because i guess that’s where we’re fucking at right now

while they were gone, some serious shit happened, and i’m gonna copy and paste it from facebook bc it’s A Lot:

charlie and i were cleaning out the lockers and heard people throwing weights. we were like "uh, what the fuck" so charlie went up to check it out. he found 3 athletes working out and he was like "yo... we're closed." this guy is like "oh, the coaches let us in, you can go check with them" and charlie's like "uh yeah okay i'll go do that" and as he's walking away the guy calls him a bitch like you can't even say it to his fucking face? christ dude so charlie's not a fucking twelve year old & just keeps walking, he bumps into ray who apparently did let them in, lets him know the situation. five minutes later i am Incensed on my son's behalf and they're still throwing weights, so I go up there to ask them to stop, have some words if necessary, you know two of the guys are chill about it but this third one is like "uh, weights make a noise when you set them on the ground" like yeah thanks man I haven't worked in a gym for three years or anything i had no idea. i continue to tell him to set them down & not pick things up if he can't fucking lift them, he gets increasingly belligerent and brings up charlie "disrespecting" him and "coming at [him] like [he's] a liar". so I'M like "oh, you mean my supervisor, who you just called a bitch?" and he goes off about how he doesn't do anything to us, he's never done anything to us, like we shouldn't be wondering why he's in a locked building filled with dangerous equipment with no supervision, or asking him not to damage our fucking floors he kept turning away from me and putting his earbuds in to front like he doesn't give a shit about me but he just came off like a fucking coward. he also wouldn't say bitch to me? like he said charlie "was being a B-word" like jesus christ dude you aren't entitled to be here! it is specifically against the rules and i have no idea why they let you in, so if you insist on being here, how about not verbally abusing our staff facilitator and treating the ops staff--who is seconds away from peeling you like a god damned onion --like a five year old

i ended this in a full-on rage tbqh. like thank god i did eventually develop some impulse control or i might have murdered that guy in our weight room.

came back down and was just real, real fuckin’ mad, told charlie what happened, tried to channel fury into productivity (surprisingly effective, although my hands were shaking which may have affected legibility) and tried to talk myself out of breaking something.

oh also the guy explicitly told me “we’re enemies” like DAMN dude you have no idea what a can of worms you just cracked open. you wanna be enemies? ohhh i’ll be enemies. y’all can add this asshole to that murder suspect list from yesterday because it’s all downhill from here my guy

well. anyway. about 2:06 john is like “hey clare your pepsi’s in the breakroom” (i asked them to just bring me a pepsi wherever they were going) and i was like “cool i’ll be right there.” i still needed to calm down before being in a room with anyone even mildly irritating so i did a couple more lockers and waited for charlie to finish wheeling the bags out.

we step into the break room and ali’s like “did you remember to put the bags in the same place” with no preamble, like A. of fucking course we did, this isn’t rocket science, B. you never told us that in the first place, C. you have absolutely no authority over me, and charlie outranks you. like yes she’s one of those people who just everything they do is annoying? but this was like... an explicit show of dominance, because lani was in the break room, and ali wanted to show off to her. tashina had also turned up and was the only one who seemed to notice that charlie and i were both seething--charlie was like “okay well i’m going home” and she told him to relax (in a slightly awkward but well-meaning attempt at saying ‘hey i can see you’re upset but probably don’t wanna talk about, take it easy out there’ that charlie interpreted as ‘calm down lad’ until i was like no, she was trying)

so then ray (you may recall; our supervisor) shows up to grab a couple slices of pizza, asks how everything’s going, and ali was like “oh yeah we did half” and i was so fucking done at that point, i just stared at her and said “no”

like nope, “we” didn’t do shit, and charlie and i got about a third down without you.

we talked for a while about operations... i mentioned the athletes to ray and he actually has a plan for it, i guess we’re going to meet with the teams before the school year and be like “hey, ground rules” which i think is a pretty good idea because the basketball guys are almost all dicks

ray mentioned at one point that he was probably going to base summer hours on who was turning up for these cleanouts, and tashina made a point of mentioning that charlie and i had been working “especially hard” which i really appreciated, because the idea of having to work a shift with ali over like lucie or emma makes me want to Die

so about 2:50 they’re like “okay well the pizza’s been gone for a half hour, i guess we should work now” and i was like man, you know, charlie is gone and i’m still really fucking angry, so i don’t think i should be trapped in a small, hot space with y’all rn & i went home

as i was walking back i actually ran into charlie, he had been on his way back because he had calmed down some & wanted the hours, but he was like yeah shit if you’re not there there’s no way i can handle them

so we were talking about the Parade of Bullshit that comprised our work day and somehow it turned into me going back to his place (he lives in my apartment complex but like three buildings over) to see his guns. i can now officially say i’ve held a gun, & it was just as surreal and terrifying as i imagined! i’m never gonna be a gun person tbh but it cool to see the differences between his, he’s got a soviet issue rifle (complete with bayonet) & then a more modern one that looks like plastic but isn’t

we just hung out for a while, his dog lucky wouldn’t stop jumping on me, which was all in good fun but i like moved my hand wrong and hit his tooth so now my hand hurts :/ he showed me the Last Of Us which i’d never really seen outside of gifsets & i was actually pretty impressed with the graphics! the animation was good too, which i feel like you don’t see in games so much. we got through the prologue part & then i gave charlie a ride to physical therapy bc he had forgotten the bus schedule changes for summer, & i was going that way anyway to get some bubble tea

i get to the mall, guess who’s out of boba!! i was like no.................. my heart can’t take this, but then alyssa checked & was like “yeah the next batch will be ready in twenty minutes” so thank god. thank heckin’ god. i grabbed some lemonade and pretzel bitz from wetzel’s pretzels--that fucking vine with the Indiana Jones song has been fucking haunting me by the way--and chilled in my car because my phone had died at charlie’s place and i needed to charge it up. went and got my bubble tea, got some gas, picked up charlie & then took him on some errands ‘cause like fuck the bus, right? hatched some good pokemon

came back home, relaxed with toby and my bubble tea & forensic files. finally achieved Calm.

decided at about 10:30 that i wanted ice cream & i was like shit if anybody deserves ice cream it’s me rn so i went to mcdonald’s & got a cone & two apple pies for a grand total of 2-something dollars. how am i supposed to resist going back there every day is the real fuckin’ question man

anyway now i’m super tired and i’m going to bed so like....  yeah

[bangtannnscenariosbro]

Him

Character: Hoseok X Victoria

Genre: One-shot, Angst to fluff, Unknown!Hoseok

Summary: Once getting addicted to an app, it will never disappoint you especially since a very important person had appeared in Victoria’s life. On the day of New Years, feelings began to mix and match making it difficult to fix. “The seastorm will steady once the problems are no longer appearing” As Victoria lives her life with lots of pain, she will not turn her back. Her decisions would lead to unknown results, especially when things turn out to be –

Word Count: 2,438

A/N: Admin Queen here! Thank you lolyoosunq 😊 for this request like I would literally write a long ass letter to how grateful I, and the other admins are, LIKE THANK YOU😆! I’m not quite sure if this is what you were expecting😕, like how angst or fluff you wanted it to be, but this is the result of what I had planned. And also I am currently writing a Hoseok scenario, and this helped me a lot to how I will write the scenario.

It had been 8 months since you have this app that randomly appeared on your phone, but what was more important to you using the app is because of that unknown person who had randomly popped up. The sad part was that unknown had not been replying to any of your texts. You thought that it was pretty hectic week since it is was winter break, plus Christmas and new Years is quickly catching up. Your phone then dinged and buzz making you see who it was, and it was unknown. Your lips then curved to a smile, but slowly fades as you read what unknown had sent you.

Hey, I think you should stay away from me

Wait, why? Did I do something wrong?

It's hard to explain, but I'll keep it simple. I can't text you anymore, nor will I ever see you. 

I'm confused, I don't understand what you're trying to say.

I'm sorry, it's just hard to explain. And even if I do explain it will make it harder to understand. Sorry Victoria, but I can't let you in this.

In what? Just explain, please I need to know what you're trying to say.

Sorry, I just can't. No, I won't.

What is going on! You can't just leave without any explanation! You've made such a big impact on my life, and I still don't know who you are!?

Let's leave it that way, Victoria. You will know me as unknown and will never change no matter how much you try, you just can't. And delete this app as well.

Please don't leave! Don't do this to me, please... I'm begging you, please stay with me, please...

You waited for the unknown to reply, but no matter how much you had waited it was no use. Unknown did not respond, nor did he read your last reply. You knew that what unknown had said was true and that you can't deny but feel tears rolling down your cheeks dropping on your screen making your vision blurry with your hands shaking which caused you to let loose of your phone dropping on the ground. Not knowing what to do, you just stared at your hands that were shaking, your breathing that had also been shaken up as well as your tears forming to streams. Confused and scared, your mind roamed making it impossible to sleep.

Days had passed to weeks which had passed through months. Thankfully you got unknown out of your head and that you do not care about who unknown was – Lies – You still needed unknown, you still think about unknown, you even look back at the conversation you two had in the past, and because of this you were still hurting, in pain, in confusion, and in depression. The unknown was the only person who understood you, who could make your day happier, who gave you many options when you were in a clutch, an advice giver with specific details and the heartwarming feeling you have when he greets you. No one else was that type of person unknown was, he or she they made you feel like you’ve known them, even though none of your old friends were like that making it impossible for you to accept the fact that unknown was not... there.

Things then started to fall apart, your health had fallen apart, your senses start to break down on you, you were in danger of death, in pain of not knowing who unknown was and in danger that you couldn't handle your own self. Your parents were never home, nor they had ever spoken to you about anything that had bothered you since you knew they wouldn't care one bit. The only people that bothers were your friends, yeah your friends who weren't your relatives, your friends who were first strangers to you. And then you thought about the unknown, thinking if he would care about you, or if he was thinking about you. A familiar buzz had caught your attention, grabbing your phone from the table you checked who it was. It reads "Unknown".

You still didn't delete this app!?

Why are you so angry!? You didn't even answer my last reply!

Victoria, you need to just forget about me, this app and this whole shit!

Are you telling me that you're not real and all this shit was made fucking up!? Really!? Are you seriously telling me this shit, after all the struggle I had, my health being at risk and eventually dying in a year! Or even a damn fucking day!

Yes.

Anger and pain is what you had felt when reading his one-word reply. It hurts you, it gave you stress, and it even gave you the feeling of death.

Stop making this harder for me! I only asked one small favor! And that was to explain! Why can't you just do it for me...

If this is too hard for you, then delete this. Victoria, I want you to delete this now. And don't hold back when deleting this. Believe me in this, Victoria. Do it for me and you, Victoria.

This is for your own fucking good, isn't it! It's not for me, it's only for you! You're not even concerned about me, are you? And don't fucking lie! Tell me the truth! Tell me how you really feel!

Yes, this is for my own good and that I have no concern about all the things we had in the past. I was fake, Victoria. And I want to stop it now.

Fuck you Unknown! I thought you understood me! I thought you were there for me! I thought you were different... I trusted you, and yet you do this to me... You lying piece of shit!

I gave you the truth, Victoria. Now delete this app.

You fucking asshole! I hate you! I wish you fucking die before me!

If that satisfies you, then I will.

You regretted typing the last sentence, and you knew that it can't be erased, even if you said you didn't mean it. You thought about telling him that you didn't mean it, but you knew that unknown wouldn't such a thing. So instead you tried to make unknown do it, even if it hurted you. You had some hesitance and some pauses since you needed to wipe away your tears to see what you were typing.

Go on then! I don't give a damn fuck no more! Just die! Disappear already! I'm fucking done!

You waited like before, and the results were the same. No replies

It was December 31 and you wanted answers. Luckily a friend who was a hacker had come to save your day, your life and even your problems with unknown. It was a 2-hour process, and you couldn’t stay put.

“Are you almost done, Taehyung?” You asked looking at his computer.

"victoria, you need a chill pill," Taehyung replied, "Don't worry, you'll be getting answers. Just be patient"

"Please tell me that you're almost done," You whine as you concentrated on the computer that was literally close to your face

"Why won't you try hacking," Taehyung sarcastically said as he pushed your face away from the screen since you were blocking. As you were being pushed away, something popped up making you push Taehyung off his seat. You sat down and looked at the screen which had all of unknown's information. "Shit Victoria," Taehyung said pulling you and the chair out of his way, "This unknown prince of yours is named Jung Hoseok, A.K.A J-hope"

"What else does it say?" You asked running to him and looking at the computer. Taking your phone out of your pocket, you took a picture of how he looked like – Bittersweet colored hair, toned skin, a long and pointed nose, eyes filled with charisma and a smile that made your heart melt– Taehyung then interrupts you

"Occupation is called the Mint Eye and he's known as J-hope," Taehyung said reading all the information, “Also in some recent text message that he received from ’Boss’, looks like they don’t want him anymore” You, on the other hand, scanned the other messages reading them to yourself.

“I’ll detonate the bomb, boss,” You murmur to yourself not answering Taehyung’s question, “I’ll also be a part of the bomb, boss” Eyes widen, you quickly scrolled down looking for where he will be. “Gwangju, Pungam Reservoir on New Years,” You said aloud, “Thanks, Taehyung!” Quickly running out of the room, you ran to the nearest train station.

Knowing that Gwangju is pretty far from Seoul, you didn't have enough time left. The train was an hour and 6-minute ride. Unlocking your screen, it clearly said 9:46 PM. After you have arrived at a destination, you needed to take a taxi since you were still far from Gwangju. The taxi was usually a 30-minute ride, but since it was a busy road it took you longer to arrive at your destination.

It was now 11:37 PM, quickly opening the door you dashed forgetting to pay the taxi driver. You were too eager to see him, meet him, and to stop him. There were crowds of people in your way that you had pushed, bumped and even trip causing you to receive bruises. Looking from high to low, front and back, left and right, he was nowhere to be seen. Looking at a nearby clock, it was already 11:57 PM. Legs shaking from how wrecked it was, you fell leading both your knees being scraped. Gasping for air, you lifted your head up to see people helping you out. Giving them a forced smile, you got up on your own and thank those who had helped you until you saw a glimpse of orange hair that stood out. Dashing once more, you followed where the owner of the orange hair was. 

You followed him into the highest place where the lights of the crowd were no longer seen. Looking around, he was gone. You lost him. Curses then escaped your mouth, cursing at yourself, cursing at how slow and shitty you ran, cursing at the fact that you couldn't stop your tears.

"Why did you follow me?" A deep voiced person said holding a knife to your neck

"Jung Hoseok?" You asked slowly turning to face the person

"Who are you!" He angrily said, "Who are you? And how d-" As you completely turned your body to see who the person was, you had immediately embraced him

"I finally get to meet you," You softly said sobbing in this arm, "Unknown"

"Victoria!?" Hoseok said feeling all shocked and confused. You nodded in reply. Once he had seen your answer, he then embraced you back, a very tight embrace. "Why are you here?" Hoseok asked letting go and backing up to see your face

"You need to stop what you're doing!" You yelled at him almost losing your voice, "Don't denotate the bomb, Hoseok!" An eyebrow had risen. 

"First of all how did you find me?" Hoseok asked patiently waiting for your answer

"Well," You began. 

After you had explained everything to Hoseok, he let out a laugh which made you confused.

"Why are you laughing?" You asked all confused

"You've mistaken, Victoria," I was going to explode the firework for the people to see"

"But you said about being a part of the bomb," You said with a slight confusion on your face

"That's how I say I love fireworks," Hoseok said with a smile and laugh. You felt dumb and laughed along. Until suddenly, you felt dizzy. You felt your eyes dying on you, which you had collapsed in Hoseok's arms. "Victoria?" Hoseok asked, "Hey, Victoria!" You heard no sound, you were in danger.

Slowly opening your eyes, it was blurry. Scanning the place, it was all white – White curtains, white ceilings, white chairs and a white blanket – You thought to yourself if you had died and that you were in heaven, but that had quickly vanished once the doctor had entered the room.

“You have awoken,” The doctor said checking your state, “If only that boy was here today, I can clearly see his smile” Shocked by what the doctor had said, you immediately sit up. As you were about to speak, the doctor had cut you off. “Ah,” The doctor said with a small chuckle, “Did I made it sound bad? What I meant was-” The doctor then got interrupted be someone

“I told the doctor to say those,” Hoseok said entering your room with a bouquet of flowers in his hands, “Victoria”

“Hoseok,” You said with a smile, “Don’t be playing with me” Pouting at him, the doctor left giving you two some private time.

 “You can now vent your feeling,” Hoseok said sitting beside you, “Now that I’m here” 

As you were venting to him, he suddenly stood up, leaned forward and gave you a kiss locking lips together as he caresses your cheek.

“I’m sorry for all the things I’ve done,” Hoseok pause for a bit before continuing the kiss

“Hoseok,” You paused, “Tell me everything” He nodded as a response

“Before I tell you everything,” Hoseok said, “Can we finish this first?”