#How to Cancel Tinder Account

[08melancholie]

Hi Milo! I have some suggestions of things that you might have an answer for Micah:

Lifestyle (modern) or addictions etc:

If he had a modern addiction, what would it be? Cigarettes still, or maybe strong coffee, online betting...?

What would be his favorite app on his phone? (TikTok, Twitter for bullshit, or something unexpected?) In fact, I think maybe he was a layman when it comes to the internet. I also believe that Micah would be openly prejudiced and would suffer a cancellation 🤡

Do you think he would have a favorite television channel? I doubt he liked newspaper, not direct.

Relationships and Interactions

1. If he had to adopt a modern pseudonym,what name would he use?

2. How would he describe himself on Tinder? What would you put in the bio? I don't think he would use it, but maybe he had an account, he looks more like the type who reacts to stories with emojis: 😏👿😈👅🍑👀🙄

3. What kind of emoji would he use more when sending messages? (💀🔥🤠🖕🏻👍?)

4. If he sent love emails, what would they be like? Sung or full of provocations?

5. If Micah were a modern father, what kind of father figure would he be? I don't think Micah would like to have children, I think he was even "sad" when he said that Jenny could be carrying Micah Bell third.

6. What would be his order at McDonald's or at a modern fast food?

7. Would he be the type to put ketchup on pizza or make some other controversial culinary choice?

Psychology and Personality

If Micah were diagnosed with a modern disorder, what do you think it would be?

What do you think he would do if he had to live hidden in the 21st century? Would he adapt or cause chaos? A journey in time...something like that.

What would he say hidden in the 21st century?

If he needed to change his identity if he committed a serious crime, what false name would he choose?

Daily Life and Bizarre Habit

If Micah had to live in a big city today, where do you think he would go?

What would he ask to eat in a fancy restaurant if he wanted to annoy the waiter?

What do you think his apartment would be like in the modern world? Messy, full of hidden weapons, or surprisingly organized?

Does he know how to cook? Or the only thing he can do is a bad coffee and burnt meat?

Would he have a secret hobby, something that no one would imagine?

How would he react to getting stuck in traffic?

Okay, I had to make a list, I don't know who better than you would know Micah so well, bye cowgirl.

( ˶ˆᗜˆ˵ ) ❤️🤍🐁

(Don't feel pressured or discouraged to answer this ask, go in your own time)

Hello! First of all, amazing ask. Everything is so neat and I will definitely be able to answer everything easier! And of course, thank you for it, anon! I best get right to it if I ever want to be done with this😭

Lifestyle (Modern) and addictions.

1. "If he had a modern addiction, what would it be? Cigarettes still, or maybe strong coffee, online betting...?"

Micah seems to me like the classic, but not so casual, Marlboro smoker. Maybe something like my current situation; if he wants to have a smoke, he won't stop himself, no matter how much he's already had that day. One day, it can be a mere two or three cigarette, but the next one could well be eight to ten or more. But, I also can see him as a gambler. It's a thrill and it causes him excitement, exactly what he looks for in modern life.

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2. "What would be his favorite app on his phone? (TikTok, Twitter for bullshit, or something unexpected?) In fact, I think maybe he was a layman when it comes to the internet. I also believe that Micah would be openly prejudiced and would suffer a cancellation"

His favourite app would be some type of quick, offline game, imo. Modern Micah seems like a flappy bird kid to me, for example. Maybe even Geometry Dash; he's bad at it, but he's determined to beat it now that he's started.

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3. "Do you think he would have a favorite television channel? I doubt he liked newspaper, not direct."

I think that modern Micah is really into sports, and especially ice hockey. He'll watch whatever looks interesting as white noise in the background while doing something. I actually think he does like newspapers; but only for the little crossword sections inside. Other than that, he mostly stays on sport channels if he is actually wanting to watch something that interests him.

Relationships and Interactions.

1. "If he had to adopt a modern pseudonym, what name would he use?"

If we're looking at modern Micah with the canon past like in the game, so saying that he got his name from his father and grandfather, Micah won't really enjoy using the name. In general on social medias, he'll mostly use guest/anonymous accounts when possible, and when not, he'll use whatever name first comes to mind. Something random like Mike might just make it there.

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2. "How would he describe himself on Tinder? What would you put in the bio? I don't think he would use it, but maybe he had an account, he looks more like the type who reacts to stories with emojis."

Even if I don't think that Micah would use Tinder much either, because he doesn't trust meeting people over some app and believes that anyone could easily be lying, he would probably lie about his height after seeing how much people seem to prefer taller men, maybe add an inch or two and wear different boots when meeting his date to make it seem real. Other than that, his bio would be pretty generic and boring.

————

3. "What kind of emoji would he use more when sending messages?"

I don't think that he'd know much about emojis, hence why he will rarely use them. If he does, it's mostly going to be 😂 when someone says something that has to be funny, but isn't. Also uses ☠️ to try and be intimidating; it never works but he's convinced himself that it does.

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4. "If he sent love emails, what would they be like? Sung or full of provocations?"

Emails were always too complicated for him, and I think he'd prefer a text or straight up telling someone to their face, but if it were to come to it, I think it'd be a mix of both but more leaning the second with the provocations.

————

5. "If Micah were a modern father, what kind of father figure would he be? I don't think Micah would like to have children, I think he was even "sad" when he said that Jenny could be carrying Micah Bell third."

I think that Micah does want kids, but knows deep down that he'll be irresponsible and possibly a bad influence to his kid(s), so that alone is enough to discourage him from trying for kids. To put it lightly, he'd be a very distant father, simply not knowing how to deal with a kid when they want something from him.

————

6. "What would be his order at McDonald's or at a modern fast food?"

I think that Micah is definitely a Five Guys-guy. His order: Bacon Cheese Dog, Cajun Fries, Peanut Butter Millshake. If he's craving something else that's sweet, it's churros from Burger King on the drive home from somewhere.

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7. "Would he be the type to put ketchup on pizza or make some other controversial culinary choice?

100%. He doesn't even like any of it himself, but does it to piss people off because he loves watching them get riled up over something as simple as food combos.

Psychology and Personality

1. "If Micah were diagnosed with a modern disorder, what do you think it would be?"

One is definitely a sleep disorder, and after watching his mannerism for long enough, I think Micah fits the description and symptoms for Sleep Apnea really well.

————

2. "What do you think he would do if he had to live hidden in the 21st century? Would he adapt or cause chaos? A journey in time...something like that."

Seeing how much different the laws are in the 21st century, he would be forced to find another way to go about his life, which is much more careful and calculated to ensure he isn't risking himself too much.

————

3. "What would he say hidden in the 21st century?"

I didn't exactly understand this question, so sorry if you were looking for a different answer! But, I think that he would still 'have' to continue his ways at some points, but would be much more cautious about how he does it, not showing his face in public much while still trying to stay a functioning member of society.

————

4. "If he needed to change his identity if he committed a serious crime, what false name would he choose?"

Like I said for the pseudonym, first thing that comes to mind; generic male name, nothing too fancy or special.

Daily Life and Bizarre Habits

1. "If Micah had to live in a big city today, where do you think he would go?"

I laughed when I first read this because Micah, to me, seems like a proper New Yorker. I think that that's his modern day birthplace. Probably got reincarnated as a New Yorker when he died.

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2. "What would he ask to eat in a fancy restaurant if he wanted to annoy the waiter?"

Ketchup on steak or plain pasta 100%. He enjoys watching them struggle to comply because of how wrong it feels.

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3. "What do you think his apartment would be like in the modern world? Messy, full of hidden weapons, or surprisingly organized?"

I don't think Micah is necessarily messy, but he isn't very clean and organised either. Maybe a nice middle point between the two; it looks a little messy to an outsider, but Micah knows where everything is and can easily find it, so he doesn't care about it too much.

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4. "Does he know how to cook? Or the only thing he can do is a bad coffee and burnt meat?"

I think that he does have the 'talent' to learn, but is too lazy to actually put time into learning recipes and all. Plus, the effort is just too much, and if he can just microwave something and have a hot meal ready in a few minutes, he'll go for that.

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5. "Would he have a secret hobby, something that no one would imagine?"

He doesn't seem like the person to put in time for an extra activity like a hobby, plus he doesn't want to stand out too much, so he sticks to being into the 'normal' things; sports, for example.

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6. "How would he react to getting stuck in traffic?"

He has horrible road rage; huffing and cursing at every little thing, especially if he's rushing to get somewhere.

[dotcie]

— BAD DOG. [2]

》 PAIRING: simon 'ghost' riley x f!oc 》 NOTES: taglist is open! please let me know if you want to be added or removed. if you don't care about my OC, you can skip her backstory on ao3. 》 WARNINGS: 18+ | MDNI | hair pulling 》 CHAPTER: 3.9k | 2/? [masterlist] | AO3

Before she met Laswell, Jane did media monitoring for the DISA. 

It paid well for a job straight out of undergrad. Had reasonable hours, pleasant enough colleagues. She commuted the twenty minutes from her shitty apartment in Kingman Park to the Pentagon—arrived at seven forty-five with a cream cheese bagel and a skim milk latte. Wrote reports, emails, and memos. Hours and hours of political speeches, barking rifles, and screaming civilians ingrained in her brain. 

''Like a fucked up collage of the human greed for oil and retribution,'' she once called it over an almost empty espresso martini. Condensation pearled off the glass's rim and pooled on the table of an overpriced speakeasy bar, so unimpressive it was not worth remembering its name. Her questionable Tinder date had been late, his small-talk rather boring; No, she didn't like her job. Who ever did? But rent was expensive in DC, and Jane had student loans, expensive taste, and maybe eight hundred dollars in her checking account. 

She covered newsstreams out of Egypt, Lebanon, and Jordan. Iraq, and Yemen. Algeria. Libya.

Ate lunch at her desk—usually a salad and a protein bar, four busy screens in front of her. 

Had meetings with Cairo, Beirut, Amman, Baghdad, Sana'a, Algiers, and Tripoli.

She joined the white-collar crowd on their evening run around the Mall after work. From the Capitol steps to the Lincoln Memorial, around the reflecting pool. Two times, sometimes three. Always depending on the restlessness that hummed in her bones and tingled in her fingertips. 

Jane shoved her damp hair up with a clip and hopped on the blue metro line afterwards; sweaty and breathless, body humming with spent energy. She stopped at Whole Foods on her way home; bought dinner-for-one and a four-pack of sugar free Redbull. Put on noise canceling headphones without listening to anything on her way home—spying into warm lit windows and other people's lives. 

She ate in bed, crouched over her Macbook, the TV always set to CNN. She practiced Arabic. Scrolled through subreddits about zero-day exploits, but never commented on them. Went to bed late, woke up early. Got up the next day and did it all over again. 

Washington is a big city, in a big country, in a big world, and nothing ever changed. Jane just sat in her gunny-covered cubicle and watched whole cities crumble to dust like sandcastles. The local newspapers only covered a watered-down version of the turmoil overseas, but the mental images were always in the back of her head—no matter how loud she turned the TV. 

It's all part of a grand plan, she told herself. Just another rung on the ladder, an essential middle-step in her career. It was comfortable and disturbing. Exciting enough, but nothing impactful.

Nothing with an edge. 

The job had a sky-high turnover; a bad impact on employees. Turns out, swallowing the documentation of invasions, and civil wars, and an endless flow of American exceptionalism was only manageable for a couple of months. Jane became miserable and angry. Tired and strung-out. When handing in her two-weeks notice without a back-up plan, her supervisor accepted the neatly printed note with tired eyes and an annoyed flick of the wrist. 

Her therapist blamed her sense of weightlessness for everything she did afterwards: the thrill-seeking, the risk-taking. All her screw-ups in pursuit of sticking her fingers in better pies. When the agency sent her to the embassy in Urzikstan, Jane canceled her rent-controlled apartment lease early and donated most of her belongings to the Habitat For Humanity in Capitol Hill. Burning the boats, she called it. 

For months, no one could get a hold of her. 

Analyst positions for counter-terrorism overseas will chew you up and spit out your bones, a friend in the IOC had warned her. Jane was up for it anyway—of course she was. She had witnessed a few horrendous things through screens in Washington, but nothing compared to the situation in Sakhra. Like most soul-crushing things in life, it all wasn't real until it was. 

The first time she experienced the ruthlessness of the real world, a local contractor whose family was killed by American soldiers blew up half a base with some DIY C4. 12 soldiers dead, 24 injured. If not for Laswell yanking her into the shadows behind a M1A2 when panic erupted, she would have been trampled to death under the burning afternoon sun. 

Instead, Jane heaved, and coughed, then sank to the dusty ground with ringing ears. Kate towered over her with a drawn P890, yelling all-too-calmly over the wailing of sirens: You have twenty seconds to get it together.

They made her take time off two years later, after a black site she was stationed at suffered another, similar attack. Jane was resentful of it, but she wanted to keep her clearance, so she left with the next supply plane and said what she needed to say to pass the psych evaluation. 

She considered moving back into her grandparents ranch in Arizona. Maybe traveling through Europe, starting a new hobby (rock climbing, pottery, crocheting); but there was no real drive or push behind it. Instead, she bled in secret. Fucked strangers on her frameless king-size mattress and worked out too much in her unfurnished apartment. She got offers; a few private-sector contracts she knew she couldn't entertain. Jane wanted to stick it out with the agency—and Laswell. Especially with Laswell. 

The first question Shepherd asked her when she stepped into his office was if she had any family; a partner, kids, siblings. Parents to take care of. The General asked bluntly, but Jane was used to force as the most efficient method to get answers. 

She had spent three years interrogating Al-Qatala members and contacts. Trading money, safety, and threats for intelligence. Sleeping through the sound of gunfire, bystanding interrogations, interpreting intelligence, and snooping in places Americans aren't supposed to. Jane had left her old life behind and dove head-first into a tunnel vision.

No. She had no one. 

When saying it out loud she almost sounded proud. 

Working for the General is different. Non-official cover work for SAD intel suits her better—scratches a certain itch, too. Like finally tasting blood after biting your tongue for years. 

Laswell has been helpful, the additional training too; but nothing ever prepared her for the void between long-term missions. When the work is done and restlessness returns in weird jet-lagged hours of the fading days. When there are no objectives to sink her teeth into. No foreign streets to roam under false identities. No predictions to be made, no strings to pull. 

She's stuck in Iceland now, attending debrief after debrief. Her target is dead, the missile prototypes returned to the lab, but that isn't enough. They want to know everything. First the higher-ups at the Headquarters, then the Senate Intelligence Committee. They want the process. The months of searching, the people involved, the rules she broke. 

She did a good job, she got what she wanted, but she is part of Shepherd's system now, and he didn't approve of her moving forward with the operation. 

Since she returned to the lab, he hadn't answered any of her calls. 

Ghost is nothing but a silhouette in the low light of the crescent moon; sitting against a weathered wall of heavy concrete, a half-burned cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth. Insects batter against a naked lightbulb overhead—the light orange and warm against the dark of night, casting long, unproportionate shadows over the smoking area. 

The sky hangs bruised and stormy over Vatnajökull, a million stars dotting the night. It's quarter to one, and the grounds of 102 are deadly still—so still, that the sound of a nearby metal door opening and closing shut remind him of gunshots piercing through the air. 

Years ago, he would have flinched at the sound, but there is not much left that startles Simon Riley anymore. 

Jane tips her head back in annoyance as she steps outside, cradling her phone between ear and shoulder. ''Listen—,'' she scolds into it, patting the outside of her clothes for the pack of cigarettes she bought from one of the kitchen workers yesterday. ''Louise, right? Louise, with all due respect—'' 

She takes a deep breath of restraint when she finds nothing but a crumbled straw wrapper in the pockets of her leather jacket. Sharp words spill on the other end of the line, and she squeezes her eyes shut, pinches the bridge of her nose. ''I'm not going to argue with some mid-level bureaucrat, get him on the phone— No, no, you listen! I need a black passport, don't— Fuck—'' 

Jane's grip on the iPhone loosens with the sound of a disconnected call echoing blatantly against her ear. Simon can hear her mutter a spool of curses, the sound of gravel screeching under her feet, and how all sound seizes as she pauses at the sight of him. 

The smoking area is dimly lit, but there's no mistaking the broad-shouldered figure with the cramped up skull mask looming in the corner of the building. Simon appeared in her sight so suddenly, so unexpectedly, that Jane would not be surprised if he materialized out of thin air. It would suit him; Ghost that he is.

Smoke pools out of the soldier's mouth, the balaclava pulled up to his nose; exposing a sharp chin with a shadow of stubble forming its way up a jaw set tight. He is hunched over, his elbows digging into his thighs. He doesn't look up to see that the expression on her face is one of mute surprise, or that her eyes narrow at the sight of him. 

''Thought you'd be gone already,'' she calls over, lounging near the door she slipped out of. 

''Change of plans,'' he returns easy and low, eyes glued to the book in his calloused hands. 

It's only been a few days, but his voice is as deep and as resonant as Jane remembers; it fills the air and makes her blood rush with the mental images of his fingertips digging into her skin. 

There's always a certain quietness after she's been fucked good—the world stands still for a moment, and it helps to quench the thirst, to fill the void.

Jane needs to hold something in her arms sometimes. Something unattainable and distant. Something unwise. Something like him. 

''Mind if I bum one?'' She nods to the lit cigarette between his scarred fingers, stepping closer.

For a split second, she thinks he's going to ignore her—then he dog-ears the page he was reading and abandons the book onto his lap. 

Simon looks up all casually and unfazed, shakes his head. 

''Last one,'' he says, half-lidded stare fixed on her in that particular Ghost sort-of-way. The way he always gets when you rip out the half-assed social niceties and expose the weirdo underneath. 

Jane exhales through her nose, leaning against a pole holding up the roof. The urge for frustration refuses to be ignored, so she buckles, comments: ''Of course,'' like she's taking notes on the irony of it all. 

''Stop pondering, will ya?'' Inhaling another mouthful of tar, Simon stretches out along the bench, crossing his booted feet at the ankles. The set of dog tags around his neck clink together when he scratches the underside of his chin. "No point in gettin' all antsy." 

She shoots him a cold, hard look for it—the one that makes his blood sing, makes him remember the expression in her eyes when she told him she wanted her target dead. 

''Thank you, Simon, for your unsolicited wisdom.'' 

The subtle fuck you isn't boarded in her voice, but it throbs under every word of hers. He doesn't bother scolding her for saying his name again, but the bitter taste of disapproval sure does coat his tongue. He's not foolish enough to argue with her when she's like this; all gutted and pent-up. Ready to hiss, bite, and lunge at his throat. 

The familiarity of it all stirs something up in him. For a moment, Ghost almost believes that it's sympathy, maybe—or at least a pinch of pity. A distant part of his mind remembers the dogged woman he faced when they first met; working out of a one-room shithole in a broken-down, brutalist apartment building somewhere in the Balkans. Reviewing surveillance logs, transcripts, and maps in shorts and a sports bra because the AC was utter rubbish. He recalls her hunched figure and unwashed hair as she worked out of the tiny living room—the space a mess of cables and empty microwave meals, her tech always charging. Her curtains always closed, dust dancing in the beams of light that crept their way inside.

Two days after the exfil, he barely recognized her anymore; with fresh clothes, twelve-hours of sleep, and hair neatly cut to a shoulder-length. It was like meeting a stranger, a whole different woman. He was certain, then, that the only way out for her was the same as his: leaving rotten and zipped up in a body bag.

Simon holds his half-smoked cigarette out to her, and she lets her head roll to consider the silent peace-offer. Her expression bleeds into something less angry in the face of him, and she hates that it makes him snort in response. 

Jane gives him the illusion of thinking it over before breaking away from her frozen stance and closing the distance between them. She takes the stub, and sinks onto the wooden bench next to him.

''Thanks.'' — ''Mhmh.''

Even with some distance between them, Simon towers over her. He doesn't make a sound, doesn't attempt to embarrass himself with comforting words and distracting small-talk. He's quiet—a man of few words and fewer smiles—but that's what drew her to him in the first place. There's caution behind his eyes, and his words are always cleaved off at the knee. A person weathered and hardy. A man who, just like her, has seen things most wouldn't even believe.

They both fall quiet passing the cigarette back and forth, and for a moment he thinks that the conversation has faded out completely. Simon's eyes return to the book in his lap, trying to find the spot where he left off before she interrupted him, but— 

''Do you think I went too far?'' Jane keeps her eyes forward, burying her free hand in the left pocket of her jacket. 

Simon hums in response, dark and low. ''Doesn't matter what I think,'' he says in a way that makes it clear he believes it, too.

''But you are somewhat capable of forming opinions, yeah?'' 

It coaxes a half-huff, half-laugh from him. He gets it. Logically, he gets it. Everybody is somebody's dog, hanging onto a leash; but he's military, and he much prefers to not comment on any of it. 

''You ignored authority,'' he starts, then pauses. ''Whether or not it was worth it, all y'can do now is handle the repercussions.'' 

''That's not an answer.'' Two dimples appear on either side of Jane's frown as she tucks some loose strands of hair behind her ears and leans forward. ''Forget I even—''

''I think," he interrupts calmly, but stern, ''that your self-doubt won't help you.''

Jane keeps her gaze flat, level. Perhaps if she mimics the face of apathy, Simon won't be able to see that she's hanging onto every word of his. What he says resonates; a quiet truth echoing through the air between them. The regret in her chest strikes like a bomb and for a moment, she fears the possibility of Shepherd cutting her TS/SCI clearance once and for all. She's been ignoring the thought, avoiding any evidence of worry that could shape her suspicions into something tangible, something real.

''Just thinking ahead'' she says quietly, scuffing her boot against the pavement below. "Little catastrophizing, worst-case-scenario planning." 

"Doomsday prepping?" He offers and gets a little smile for that. 

His chest tightens at the sight, an aching warmth interweaving his thoughts with sympathy. He looks away then, trying to collect himself. Seeking control, reaching for reason. Better judgment. Something else.

Jane studies his side profile for a moment, and Simon suddenly feels like she's too close, too comfortable in his presence. It's only a split second, the length of a heartbeat, but it's enough for Jane to take in the way he blinks his intrusive thoughts away. 

''Why are you still here, anyway?'' She asks in a change of tone, plucking the cigarette from his fingers.

''Taking a break,'' he drawls, words dripping slowly as molasses from his mouth. There is no further explanation offered, no words wasted on reasons or truths. Simon blinks languidly, his lips pressing together as he closes his book for good. 

''Because of Soap?'' There's an off-tone in her voice. ''I thought he is getting better already?"

Simon exhales roughly. ''No,'' he says with a lazy shrug. ''Yes.'' 

It's short and curt, but she doesn't let his vague hostility deter her. Jane just stares at him, impatience reflecting in her eyes, and he's not used to it; all the questions, the curiosity. 

''Do you know,'' he continues slowly, taking the cigarette back to keep his hands busy, ''the number of classifications and regulations I'd have to ignore to tell you shite like this?'' 

It's easier than admitting that he failed his psych evaluation for a second time in three years. 

Price is doing the paperwork for him, because they apparently want to negotiate some kind of terms for him. No rumors, no records, no further questions asked. Simon would be mad about it, if he wasn't so bloody tired. 

It's been years of regaining control and gripping bloody bathroom sinks. Endless hours of running, shooting, yelling over comms, and saving Johnny from the stupid, stupid shit he gets up to when nobody's there to keep an eye out for him. Simon is not a reckless man—at least not when he doesn't let his rage blind him—but you can't teach an old dog new tricks. 

He's not sure why he hasn't been able to admit to himself that his life has been nothing but fear, rage, vigilance, wanting, and searching, wanting, and never finding what eases the pain. 

He knows that Price goes back to a Rosewood desk with whisky and cigars in the upper right drawer, before driving home to a house and a woman that were once his. Laswell has a wife named June and a flourishing garden waiting at home. Gaz goes back to a two-bedroom flat in London, decorated by a girl he met during the siege of the U.S. embassy in Urzikstan. Simon doesn't have anywhere to be—nobody's waiting for him—so he stays. For Soap, he tells himself, and everyone who's paid to listen. 

The Scot's injuries happened under his watch, so he might as well play messenger for his moms, sisters and one-thousand nephews until he can travel back home. It's what a good Lieutenant does. It's what Price would do. 

''Alright,'' Jane says cold, flatly. ''It's none of my business anyway.'' 

She declines the last drag of the cigarette when Simon offers it to her, and he can't help but feel like he's been rude; like he just ruined something delicate. A particular flavor of guilt clings to the underside of his tongue, and he's willing to answer whatever her next question might be in order to make it up to her. 

He stubs out the cigarette, and it takes a moment or two before he realizes that his guilt is the reason she gave in so quickly in the first place.

''I'm not gonna tell ya,'' he says, prompting a smile to tug at the corners of her mouth; like she doesn't fully believe it, but is willing to play along. 

He is too exhausted to not condemn her for it, so he covers himself in heavy silence. Simon doesn't break eye contact, doesn't move—his dark glance intervenes with the amusement in her eyes, and when the quiet stretches on for too long, her eyes dart to his exposed lips shamelessly. 

''Anyone ever tell ya' to mind yer' own business, Spade?''

It coaxes a genuine laugh out of her. Simon is not sure he's ever heard her laugh before; the way the sound bubbles out of her throat, limpid and clear, and then almost turns into a snort. 

''I like you,'' she says pointedly, with purpose. 

"You're just bored.'' — ''And you aren't?" 

Simon remains silent, and the glint in her glance grows bright, pinning. Like she just learned a secret; an inside joke. 

It's unhealthy, this habit she's developed of digging her fingers in his wounds. She feels like a parasite trying to crawl under his skin, and she should probably feel far more ashamed of how much she enjoys the thrill of it. 

She has heard the stories, of course. The legends about the masked, faceless man; the perfect soldier, the silent killer. Everyone affiliated with Shepherd or Shadow Company in the slightest is aware of Ghosts' reputation, and Jane had been curious to meet the man. Dead-eyed, mass of muscle. A walking depiction of death. 

The warning signs about him are written in blood, telltale stories, and that half-lidded stare of his; Stay away, they say. Keep your distance. 

''Don't—,'' he starts with the exhaustive sort of contempt: the kind that says he is tired and bored of this tedious game. ''Don't look at me like that.''

Jane bats her eyelashes at him. ''Like what?''

 ''Like you want something from me.''

''Maybe I do—''

"You don't,'' he interrupts, tongue like a blade. ''All bark no bite, last time I fucked you.'' 

In some twisted ways, his fury excites her. The insistence on his dominance, too, and Jane laughs out loud at words that don't sting. She's practiced; chin tipped up, meeting his disapproving stare with a smirk.

''You ever let anyone kiss you, Lieutenant?''

He looks away, hisses through his teeth in frustration. ''That what you want?''

''I think,'' Jane retorts in a tone both cruel and tender, ''you want it, too.''

The hard look in his eyes lets something uncurl in her. Something satisfied, something real. 

''You do,'' she says again, and then he's on her; hand tangled in her hair, pulling her close. His grip on her scalp is not gentle, nothing about him is, and she smiles—shows teeth—at the broad display of it. 

Simon stares at her for a long moment, a frustrated hum forming at the back of his throat. She can feel his breath on her face. Almost hears the whir of the wheels turning in his head; calculating, calibrating. 

''You don't know what you're getting yourself into,'' he finally says, loosening his grip. 

''I've done worse,'' she spits out, pulling away. 

It happens somewhere between her leaning back and him not wanting her to. It happens and it's familiar, and new all at once; the way he stops her from turning away, pulls her closer by a fist of hair. He kisses her like he does everything else: a little cocky, a little mean. Their teeth clack together, and Simon kisses Jane long and searching—like he was waiting for it to happen.

Like he means it. 

》 Previous Part | Next Part 》 Masterlist.

》 Tag-list: @devcica @glitterypirateduck @queen-ilmaree @widemiffyhappy @cathnoneofyourbusiness

[reimeichan]

"How did Reimei realize they're a system?"

I mean do you want the Purple version of the story where she tried to ask OC!Gray what his favorite color was and was so convinced it was green only for said "OC" to insistently answer back that it was gray every time?

Or do you want the Cyan version of the story where a chandelier nearly fell on me and I saw my life flash before my eyes and it shocked my psyche so bad that in my dissociated state I downloaded Tinder, paid for premium, swiped right on as many people as I could so that I could lose my virginity because that somehow makes sense as something to do after nearly dying to a chandelier falling on you. And then when I woke up the next day to hundreds of matches and a planned fuckdate, I freaked out, canceled the date, deactivated my account, uninstalled the app, and then later that night another stream of thought introduced herself as Rouge in my brain and I had no control over what she said or did and it freaked me out so much I did genuinely wonder if I have DID but surely not, surely I'm just losing it because I had a crazy near-death experience that sounds absolutely batshit insane whenever you try to recount it to anyone.

Like technically these both separately count as system discovery stories but like. I dunno I think The Chandelier Incident is more iconic.

[occluminary]

hi ok this is like. soo embarrassing but. do u…have dating app advice? from a nonbinary person wondering which apps are most queer/nonbianry friendly, and also just in general. i’ve been wanting to try it for ages but i was so terrified of someone i know irl seeing me on there but i really want someone to flirt with n kiss :(( am desperate atp im willing to risk it lmao

hi!!! not embarrassing at all, i'm more than happy to share my experience and advice! this got reeeeally long so i'm going to put a cut, so sorry😔😔😔😔

first thing: you can't change your name after you set it, so if it's your dead name, you are stuck with it and im quite frustrated bc i don't want to have to delete my accounts and start over but alas....

i have used tinder, hinge, and the app her (which sucks i would not recommend) and i prefer hinge out of all of them although i will say the free version is limiting so sometimes i'll treat myself to whatever half off special they run and pay $10 for a month of premium and then cancel it so i can get more swipes but that's only if i have money to burn which is not often. tinder and hinge have similar prompts to answer but i like the features of hinge better because you can send comments when you swipe, this helps get responses back instead of the dreaded no one messages first.

i think getting over the concern of how others were going to perceive me was the hardest part about setting up my profile because im my harshest critic so i look at everything from every angle and try to be the perfect person for everyone. well that's not realistic lol so i changed my approach and decided that i was going to present as authentically myself as i could because i don't want to be trying to date someone who doesn't accept me for who i am. i live in a large city so i don't have many people i know show up on dating apps, but (for example) if you have it set for women only, you are only going to be shown other women who have their preferences set up to show nonbinary folx, so if you were worried about Jim Bob down the street seeing you on an app, he probably won't because you aren't compatible through the algorithm. idk if that eases your nerves at all, but i hope so!!!

i am not interested in cis men so i don't have that turned on for my profile, but in general i don't think cis men on dating apps are the safest for trans/enby folx so i always advise turning off men because it also increases the amount of other-gender options.

the other thing i do is make my bio full of a wide range information about me so other people have a pretty good vision of who i am/why we would be a good match. things like hobbies/special interests/other facts about me that lead into an easy conversation of getting to know someone. i always like seeing someone have two truths and a lie because that's an easy in to a conversation once we match. nothing is worse than an empty profile! i will never swipe on someone no matter how attractive they are if they don't tell me at least a little bit about them in their bio. also, any time i get really excited about someone else's profile, i make note of what i liked and tweak my profile slightly so it's always improving.

here's the most important but the hardest part to actually do: you have to interact first. and i know! it sucks!! but generally you won't get any messages once you match bc no one is willing to make that first move. the way i think about it is that im making a respectful move to someone who also swiped on me, so there's already a mutual attraction. and if they don't want to respond, there's no pressure and no harm done. but if they do respond?? now you are cooking with gas!! and it only happens if you just are brave for 5 seconds to send a message asking how their day was or commenting on something from their profile.

if you are comfortable coming off anon, you can send me a message and ill share some of my profile with you for inspo and if you need help coming up with some things, it's my favorite part but it always takes me some time lol

[beabco]

soju

Well, alas. I am back.

Drinking a bottle of raw soju. I'm a little bit woozy right know, but, i'm doing my best to make this grammatically correct.

It has been almost a year since my last entry. A lot of things has happened. I can feel my heart beat in my back.

So, i'm hurt. maybe a little bit. but not that much. my soju made it a little numb.

Im dating this guy. I started dating him after a few weeks my mom died. Probably i felt lonely at the time thats why i went bezzerk mode on tinder. He's just within the province i am in. so, i thought its convenient. Especially it was the time i was still practicing how to drive.

Anyway, fastforward to 10 months, were now living together and trying to manage a barely working business together. my family and his family know us. So, lets say we're in the stage where we're almost getting married.

Im in a stressful situation right now where everyday gives me anxiety. see, the thing is, we've been living together for 7 months. of course, a lot of fucking has been happening. I haven't had my period since new years eve. So, my period is late for 2 months. That why im drinking despite being sober for 2 years.

I took 4 pregnancy tests in different weeks, all came back negative. but right now, im feeling things in my body that are a little different. i still havent confirmed if i am pregnant, mainly because part of me is scared to know, but i also currently dont have the means to do so.

Last week, March 15, he has to go home because my aunt is going here and she needs a place to stay during the time. I only was able to talk to him throught video chat and got curious why he's always pre occupied with his phone.

for context, i have access to his account, i just dont check it as i was confident that he wasnt doing anything that i would like. i just like the feeling that i have access to it as it gives me confidence that he's loyal

anyway, one day, all of a sudden, i got curious who he was talking to, i took a peek on his messanger and saw that it was just his friends. no biggie. then, i saw that he added a new girl outside our province. I got curious at the time who it was. It didnt have any conversation or any connection.

I checked his activity log and found that, in the past 2 days that he was away, he was adding a bunch of women that he doesnt know. mind you, these women are promiscuous. I dont think theres anything wrong with women being confident. Im just not comfortable with my partner subscribing to this.

My initial reaction wasn't jealousy. Honestly, i love this women for being empowering. But more of, disappointment and insecurity. I got disappointed because, i thought that this was something that he doesnt care of. I also got insecure because due to the my worrying that I might be pregnant made me block his initiations to make love because i wanted to go to the obgyn and confirm before i do so. `I felt like I no longer satisfy him.

I asked myself, is this something i would have to confront? Or should i let it slide and switch things up a bit? I figured I wasnt going to confront him when he gets home then just do what those women do just to get back at him.

Although, plan didnt work. I wasnt able to greet him the same way I used to do so he figured that somethings wrong. I couldnt mask myself. So, i told him what was wrong. At first he tried to deny it but, when he lost all opportunities to save himself, he decided to apologize and undo all those things.

I told him the things that i was feeling of that action and he acknowledged. I told him that I felt insecure and embarrassed that he's one of those guys who grabs attention to women despite being in a relationship. One of the type people i despise.

He cancelled all of the requests he could find and was very remorseful at the time. I forgave him right away.

A week has passed, I was on shift with the shop because my friends werent available at the time. I asked my partner if he can cover nightshift for me because I woke up too early.

When I was done with my shift and was about to sleep, facebook rang on his computer. I checked who it was, it was his friend. I was about to go back to sleep then I saw that a friend request was accepted 12 hours ago. Checked her profile and it was still one of the same type of girl he mass added. I checked her profile and saw her posts were provocative but also almost every post was liked by my partner. Even the post from 2 days ago.

I got pissed thinking that he already got the idea what I meant last week and thinking that him being remorseful was just an act. I noticed that he also liked her latest posts on instagram despite not being active in there.

We got in a fight but this time, he stood his ground that he didnt cheat (only emotional cheating) and that he never had a conversation with the girl.

Now we're in the present. Where i'm drinking soju because of this shit. He decided to go silent then sleep. I'm in a head space right know where I'm trying to prepare myself for a break up.

I don't want someone who I have to teach them how to respect me. I dont want someone whos going to gaslight me everytime i bring up something that I want to talk about. I dont want to have a baby whose already childish enough and not know how to compromise and be compassionate.

I'm drinking right now because i'm pissed and i'm also scared.

I don't know whats going to happen next. So far, I'm rebuilding my wall in case something does happen.

[williamjone]

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[kateyiswell]

Session 2: Positive Reframing

Last Friday, I went to my second session with my psychologist.

Our topic for that day is Positive Reframing.

It was a fun session. I get to turn my negative memories/feelings into positive perspective.

She asked me to remember most of my negative, the one that hurts me the most, so I can find the beauty on it.

One of the moments I told her is when you cancel our meet up plans na nandun na ako sa meet up place. I am disappointed but I just continued with what should we do. Watched movie, eat alone, enjoy the surrounding. Yes, I really felt alone pero I was able to savor the moment.

The best one is when you left/dumped me, I was really hurt and I thought I was alone in my battle.

Little did I know, I always have people behind me as my support system and loves me unconditionally, without pretentions, yung hindi nanunumbat, yung kahit may mali ako, willing silang tulungan akong maayos yun. Yes, may maririnig ako pero not in the condescending way na sobrang nakakababa ng self-worth.

I acknowledged I need help pala instead of repressing my emotion. I need to let it go for my own peace and sanity and I know I needed the right channel for that.

I might have cried during the session pero most of the time, nagtatawanan lang kami ni Doc.

Here are the other list of negative:

1. We plan to eat out pero isa lang yung naorder kong ulam. You walked out on me kasi ang tanga ko mag-order.

Positive effect: I enjoyed the food alone, wala akong ka-share.

2. During some of our Dampa days, mali yung luto ng food, you told me it’s my fault again. Sinigawan mo ako sa harap ng mga kasama nating kumain. I almost cry sa harap nila kasi you really made me feel like I am a stupid person.

Positive effect: You were blocked by most of them dahil dyan. I am still friends with the people we ate with.

3. You told me the shittiest things about how I handle my finances, like why I bought life plans, memorial place, eh ang bata ko pa

Positive effect: *knock on wood* I am prepared than other people, like you. Di ko alam kelan ang last day ko sa earth, but at least I am ready esp yung mga maiiwan ko.

4. You do not want me to travel with my friends, dapat tayo lang magtatravel na dalawa. Pero lagi mo akong sinisigawan sa byahe. You do not appreciate what I organized. I cannot take pictures kasi sayang oras. I cannot go where I wanted kasi ayaw mong puntahan. At ayaw mo ipaalam ko sa family ko na umaalis tayong dalawa

Positive effect: Now, I can go wherever I go, with whomever I want na talagang mababait, wiling magtake ng pictures namin, willing mag enjoy sa mga activities kasi di lang kami nakaupo sa sasakyan enjoying the view. Di na ako magiguilty na di ako nagpapaalam sa family ko. At least they will know where am I and sinong kasama ko.

5. Whenever I bought you food, hindi ka nasasarapan. Lagi mo akong sinasabihan, bakit yan inorder mo, next time, iba na lang.

Positive effect: Hindi na ako manlilibre ngayon ng mga unappreciative na tao. Tapos kapag bibilhan ko sina kuya mo and wife nya, sasabihin mo wag na lang, pero I insist. Mas appreciative sila sayo. Sana sila na lang binibilhan ko lagi.

6. You have Tinder and Bumble, talked to other girls and sometimes, went out with them behind my back. Minsan, sinasabi mo sakin. Madalas hindi. Nung nahuli kita, nagpalusot ka pa. You bought me microwave. But still you met another woman. Don’t know what you two did, di ka na nag elaborate. You don’t post me in your social media account, sabi mo lowkey and private lang relationship natin. Recently, you told me you were hanging out with someone else. Pero di mo masyadong bet. Then, I saw your FB post - pictures with another woman, the person you told me di mo bet, her arms around you, it shattered my heart into pieces and broke my self.

Positive effect: I confirmed, cheating is a non-negotiable for me. I learned that I need to walk away with guys who do not want to be committed with me. Thank you, ikaw na mismo yung gumawa ng paraan para mawala ka sa buhay ko kasi I was still fighting for a relationship na matagal mo na palang tinapos. Magaan na sa pakiramdam kasi di na ako confused lagi bago matulog. Lastly, thank you sa microwave, gamit na gamit namin ng family ko.

[indigo474]

August 26th- 2023-

Life is good. Really good. I try to enjoy every moment-truly. there is a small part of me that is waiting for something bad to happen. i hate that i feel that way. My time off from work went fast and i dont want to go back. I have a meeting on Monday and i am not totally prepared.. i'm hoping its cancelled.

I'm talking to that guy Jason again. I knew knew knew i would hear from him. he's a nice guy im just not attracted to him sexually. he's smart, funny.. i thought it was odd he had so many girls who were friends but now i understand. I deleted my Tinder account. I guess i'm taking a break.. I miss having lover... or rather having sex. i read something that said what you want is already yours.. i've read different versions of this over the years.. God wouldn't put a dream in your heart if it wasn't going to come true. I wonder how long i'll have to wait to find someone to love. i'm sure it will be worth it. I'm not sure what i have to do. I honestly don't know. the apps arent where its at. i dont really do anything but what? workout and food shop. chances are pretty slim of me meeting someone. I guess i'll just keep doing me...

i received an invite to Marci's girls night.. year 2 for me. I worked out at home today with weights.

[netflixcomactivation-blog]

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[tinderloves]

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[stabbingandorbeingstabbed]

how to get tinder when ur banned: pick any of those free burner phone apps. use its free trial to get a number. okay now make a google voice number connected to the burner phone number. use the gv number to make a new tinder account. cancel the free trial bc you don’t need the burner number anymore. congrats u now have tinder.

okay i did this and against all odds tinder is even worse than i remember holy shit

[reimeichan]

How did you all figure out you were a system? -🪭

It depends on who you're asking.

For Purple, she was always open to the idea that the world had a lot of unexplainable phenomena that our current knowledge of science and stuff may not be able to address. When we were 12, she was looking online for ways to flesh out OCs, and one of the suggestions was to talk to said OC as if you were giving them an interview. So she asked said "OC" some questions and had him answer them. "What's your favorite color?" she asked. "Gray," I said. "No, that's wrong! I made you, I know your favorite color is green! I put it down on your character sheet!" she said back. I shrugged, and, confused, replied back, "It's definitely gray, I don't know what to tell you." And in that moment she knew she shared a brain with another entity, though she dared not label her experiences as DID at the time.

For Green, in high school he had joined a new online community who noted how his personality would occasionally just *drastically* shift. This personality shift was due to him and Purple switching at the time, and Purple, already in the know, would end up telling this new community how they likely had some sort of "multiple personality" thing going on but would never presume for it to be DID without a proper diagnosis. Those words alone were enough for Green to realize that Purple truly was a separate identity from him, and though he was shocked at first, he and Purple really leaned into the "multiple personalities", even giving themselves different halves of our online username at the time.

For me... well, I'm a fusion of a few parts. One part of me, the Gray that Purple met and mistook for an OC, knew around the same time as her. I was in denial for much longer, but constant pestering from her made me finally accept that she and I were at least separate consciousnesses within the same brain.

Another part of me was blissfully unaware until we nearly died in 2020. I won't go into detail how it happened, but it was sudden and out of nowhere, and though nobody was too greatly injured, the shock was enough for me to fully dissociate away from the situation. However, we still needed someone to actually be in the body and move it around, so out of desperation our gatekeeper (the "mistaken for OC Gray") pushed out the first alter he could find... and that happened to be Rouge, our sexual alter. Let me just paint the picture here real quick: I've told everyone around me that I'm asexual, somewhat sex-repulsed, and had no plans to ever be sexual with anyone. Then suddenly, out of nowhere, I'm on Tinder witht the sluttiest profile I can muster up, swiping right on anyone and everyone who I even remotely may be interested in a one-night hookup. All because I nearly died. I woke up in the morning to hundreds of matches and even a planned fuckdate. All of this, might I remind you all of the timing, in the middle of a pandemic that we at the time did not have a vaccine for yet. Horrified by what I found in the morning, I canceled the fuckdate, deleted my account, and uninstalled the app.

And though that was still not enough for me to accept I have DID, that sure did open some doors.

Then, in 2022, my then-partner and I had a long talk. They were getting tired of my memory issues and no amount of writing things down seemed to be enough for them. I seemed to have incredibly inconsistent and even contradictory boundaries that they couldn't keep track of. I blamed everything on my ADHD, of course. I didn't have amnesia, other than what I assumed were short term memory issues to the point I may have missed something they said 5 minutes ago. "Oh, sorry, I was spacing out," I would say. Eventually she got so fed up that she said, "you never space out when we're having fun conversations! it's only when you're stressed out because I'm pointing out things you've done badly that you tend to space out!"

And I went. Oh. Fuck.

That's not spacing out.

Slapped in the face with the reality that I wasn't simply "spacing out" from ADHD unfocus but due to some kind of dissociation, and given the ultimatum that if I didn't change then they would break up with me, I was forced to sit on those feelings and really dig into why I was so dissociative, so forgetful, and so inconsistent. And I knew the reason, I did, but I couldn't get myself to admit to it. God, it couldn't be me. I tried so hard to convince myself that the disorder I had on-and-off considered my entire life didn't apply to me, that maybe I was misunderstanding the diagnostic criteria, or I was misinterpreting my symptoms, or that I somehow had convinced myself I had these symptoms because I wanted them to feel... special? Validated? I don't know.

I found myself a therapist who had a long history of working with dissociative and trauma clients. She helped me unravel a lot of those feelings of shame and denial. She used a few different tools to eventually diagnose me with DID. She validated my experiences, and helped me through so much initial stabilization that I'm so very grateful for her help those first 10 months.

So, yeah. That's how we found out we have DID.

[procrastinatingsoicanreadfanfics]

Social media

Which social media platforms I think the Vikings (and a few Saxons) would use most in modern times.

Ragnar

tiktok

takes ‘dilf’ as a compliment

ubbe begs him to stop

the one time aslaug and lagertha checked his fyp, they were instantly traumatized

uses tiktok as a coping mechanism

Bjorn

Tinder

my man is just constantly swiping right

this has gotten hm into trouble before

no, Bjorn, changing your gender to female so you can bait astrid lesbians is not okay

Ubbe

facebook

probably in a group with a bunch of moms

regularly comments on lagertha’s posts

actually posts some good advice

tries to keep his dignity when his facebook friends find out about ragnar’s tiktok

Hvitserk

snapchat

uses it as a dating app

honestly, his snapscore is probably higher than yours

he needs to keep track of his friends, nights out and hook-ups somehow

Sigurd

spotify

this guy has taste

too many playlists though

one may be titled ‘fuck off ivar’

stalks everyone’s spotify

Ivar

tumblr, and you can’t change my mind

king of shitposting

has about a thousand sideblogs

all of them are successful

kind of problematic

but only bc he’s right

everything is sarcastic

Gyda

pinterest

has the best boards

occasionally gets one of ivar’s tumblr posts on her recommended, saves them as support

has a cottagecore board

may start to look at ao3 more when she gets older

Lagertha

facebook

posts bad pictures of her children

bjorn begs her to stop

she makes an alter-ego tinder profile of bjorn with her photos

a lot of people recognize him

Astrid

everything

gets herself in trouble almost every day

she’s still a queen though

mostly instagram, and has a fairly nice feed too

gets doxxed though

Aslaug

twitter

she’s the queen of twitter, tbh

tweets about ivar or harbard mostly

will expose your tea

Athelstan

tumblr

this man IS the science side of tumblr

only has one blog

that should be citable in doctor’s thesis

rarely shitposts

Floki

reddit

didn’t use any social media but then he found out about r/christianity

the biggest troll

has at least 45 banned accounts by now

he can’t help it

starts an instagram dedicated to helga

Helga

also pinterest

has a board for recipes and stuff

the sweetest person, as always; posts the best recipes

adores gyda’s boards

might use Life360 for some time, but gives up on it very quickly

Harald

Tinder, Bumble,...

he tries

doesn’t know how to text without being creepy

eventually swallows his pride and goes to bjorn

things go uphill from there

Halfdan

discord

idk, just feeling it

likes to talk to his friends and tries to convince bjorn to try it

texts a minor by accident (nothing sexual though!)

finds out it’s one of Rollo’s kids

they conspire against Rollo together

Rollo

Life360

but like, passively

Gisla told him to install it bc he has no regard for his own safety

complains that his own children don’t even use Life360

“well, your children don’t get themselves waterboarded by their relatives on a regular basis”

this settles it

got banned from twitter at some point

Judith

Life360

not for Alfred, he’s her most responsible child

but for ecbert

sometimes she’ll wake up in the middle of the night with the knowledge that ecbert is doing something illegal

checks Life360

ecbert is in another country by that time

poor her

talks about her struggles with gisla

Ecbert

twitter

tweets about everything

also insults his lords (co-workers?)

no shame

gets cancelled at least once a month

Alfred

also Life360

also for Ecbert

but sometimes, he’ll be on Ivar’s tumblr, commenting something sarcastic on every post he can find

[hansolmates]

cherry contact |🍒

summary: jihoon has access to all versions of you - your credit score, shopping habits, work emails, even your terrible tinder history. pairing; fbi agent!jihoon x civilian!reader (f) genre/warnings; fluff, crack, it’s really just that “your fbi agent” meme that caused everyone 8 years ago to put tape over their webcams, questionable viewing habits for an fbi agent, language, dick talk, mentions of sex, jihoon has feelings and is confused, he is a PINER, tw—sexual harassment  w/c; 3.3k  a/n; i can’t believe i finished this😭😭 part of meraki’s job collaboration and i’ve been dying to do a svt collab since the dawn of time and finally today’s the day! it’s been a hot moment since i’ve written for jihoon, glad i managed to get those svt writing muscles going! a huge thank you to @merakiiverse​ and @woozisnoots​ for putting this together. readers pls definitely check back on the masterlist linked above to see more of the other talented cwc writers and their rendition of the job prompt!

if you like this fic please consider giving it a like n’share!🤓🖥🤓🖥

“Kevin, 32, works at Kodak,” you scroll further to the description, “I love being tied up and need a dominatrix, have swing at home—no.” Swipe right. 

“Lisa, 24, works at Infinity Dance Studio,” you definitely are weak for athletic ladies, “My hobbies include cuticle care and online shopping! Looking for a sugar daddy or mommy that can spoil me rotten—definitely can’t afford that kind of relationship.” Swipe right. 

“Hansol, 26, works in an art museum,” sounds promising, you love art, “wait, why are all his pictures of him holding fish? Is he inside a fish? Who the heck finds that attractive?” Swipe right. 

“Billiam, 31, works in finance. Needs a bratty baby girl who can triangle,” you grimace, “what is with these guys and stating their kinks from the get-go? Gotta take a girl out to dinner first, and the fuck is a triangle?” 

You swore off Tinder since the dark ages, also known as senior year of college. However you’re in a particular slump, thirst-trapped between needing some serious dick and a committed relationship. You’d prefer the latter, but after a stressful day at work and the fact that it’s the ass crack o’dawn, you’ll take what you can get. 

“Bye Billiam,” you sing-song into your phone, moving to swipe right. 

Except you accidentally drop your phone between your sheets, and when you pick it up you accidentally swipe left. 

“Fuck fuck fuck me with a fuckin’ fuck nugget!” you cry out into oblivion. You’re so glad you live alone at the very least, it stops you from looking like a crazy person when you talk your potential sexipades out. 

Billiam has Super-liked you! 

“No. Nononono—” you bludgeon your head against your pillow, frowning when your phone opens up a chat for you and Billiam. 

Billiam: hi can u check if my dick is too small

You: please, don’t send me a picture of your dick. 

Billiam is typing… 

You: for fuck’s sake—

“—that’s disgusting,” Jihoon curses, and immediately sends out the screenshot for sexual harassment. 

“What’s disgusting?” Mingyu chimes, swiveling in his spinny chair from his side of the room.

“Don’t look,” Jihoon gags, reaching for a bottle of Coca-Cola from the mini-fridge. “You’ll throw up your fried chicken.” 

“My person is a twenty-one year old nympho who also happens to be a incel,” Mingyu chastises to his screen, closing up the eighth tab of BBC porn he’s seen this week, “he doesn’t know how well he’s avoiding the FBI’s eyes,” Mingyu shakes his head, “so I’ve seen some pretty bad shit, but I’ll take your word for it.” 

“No,” he echoes your name like you’ve done the most heinous thing in the world, “no, no! Why would you swipe left on Jackson? You’re way out of his league! He literally looks like he has a pea-sized brain!” 

“He does look like he has half a brain cell,” your voice reverberates through his noise-cancelling headphones, unknowingly agreeing to Jihoon’s passionate throw of anger, “but I’m deprived and desperate, so!” 

It’s like you can hear his sentiments exactly. 

“Literally, you could have any person you want,” Jihoon chastises through his desktop, glaring heavily at your bedroom camera, “you’re wasting your time with these losers!” 

Oblivious, you let yourself dangle across the bed. The camera isn’t the best quality, but Jihoon watches intently at the rise and fall of your chest as you attempt to fall into a fitful sleep. 

“Some yell at screens for soccer,” Minghao says to the air from his cubicle, “some yell for Starcraft, but Jihoon yells for Tinder like it’s an Olympic sport.” 

“Jihoonie,” Mingyu rolls around his chair, resting a long arm over the backrest, “do you have a crush on your civilian?” 

Jihoon immediately swivels around his hair, meeting the amused eyes of Mingyu. “No,” he says sharply, whipping around to glare at his screen. 

He glares harder the longer Mingyu’s simple question sinks in. He doesn’t have a crush on you, he likes you. Jihoon swallows his sigh, wondering why you would want to go as low as Tinder to look for a potential tryst. From your profile, you’re absolutely beautiful and intelligent. You have simple pleasures that match his—a hot cup of tea right after dark, snuggling under a weighted blanket while watching anime, and sleeping in on Sundays.

Unlike him, you don’t see the world through half a dozen lenses and a plethora of information right at your fingertips. No, you’re lucky. 

“Hey can you grab me my water bottle?” Mingyu asks over his shoulder. 

Jihoon thinks nothing of it, leaving his post for the thirty seconds it takes to get to the mini-fridge and grab Mingyu’s Hydroflask. 

“You got a call,” Mingyu says when he plops the bottle on his desk, indicating to the red blinker on Jihoon’s computer. 

It isn’t until he puts on his headphones does he take care to see why his blinker is going off. 

He’s getting an incoming call. From you. 

You’ve been waiting on the line for about two minutes. He lets two additional minutes breeze by because Jihoon is internally screaming. You’re calling again. There’s a fire blazing in his brain, his fingers hot as he twitches against the spacebar of his keyboard. 

From the monitor he can see that you’ve given up on sleep, hands pawing through your drawer so you can take a final swipe at your magenta-tinted lip balm before nesting yourself in the sheets. You’re kicking around as if you don’t have work at 9AM, smacking your lips to apply the shiny salve while you wait for your call to be picked up. 

“Why is my civilian calling me,” it isn’t a question, it’s a thinly veiled indication that Jihoon is ready to fight whoever compromised him like this. 

Mingyu and Minghao fail to answer. That’s okay, he isn’t opposed to killing both if neither fess up. 

It would be so easy for him to ignore the call, or redirect it to another part of the office. Yet he aches to talk to you, for real talk to you. As if you’re just two regular plain-old human beings with normal lives, and as if he didn’t know every nook and cranny about your daily routine and your favorite breakfast foods.

Call it pride, call it confidence, but Jihoon’s been pretty good at games and he hopes prior experience helps him get over this hurdle. Slipping on his headset, he accepts the call and answers in a controlled voice, “This is the local hotline for sexual harassment reports, are you here to report a case?” 

Okay, so this is the closest thing he can get to having a full-fledged conversation with you, so he’ll take it. 

“Hi,” you mumble your name into the phone, and he nearly disintegrates right then and there. It’s different when he can hear your voice directly in his ears, definitively reaching out to him as opposed to being a fly on the wall, “I received an email that a report was sent out for my previous chat as sexual harassment, but I didn’t send out a report.” 

“Yes,” Jihoon replies smoothly, tapping his nails against his thighs, “it’s a new update.” 

“Oh, well thank you,” you reply, and Jihoon sees from the camera that you’re staring at your phone in curiosity. 

“It’s my job,” he says, and the words hold more weight than you think, “are you okay?” 

“Is it also your job to ask how I’m doing?” 

He smiles wryly, and he looks up at the monitor to see how you’ve considerably relaxed on your bed. Your legs dangle in the air, and you’re hugging a mango plushie with all the love in the world. “Not really, but I figured I’d ask. I don’t think I’d be able to recover from a dick that looks like an unhinged toenail.” 

Your laugh flutters in his ears, and his stomach is flip-flopping with more than just his shitty ramen lunch. Your face curls and wrinkles into happiness at the lewd joke, and you rest your chin on your stuffed fruit. 

“I’m okay,” you finally answer, “it’s not the first time I’ve seen subpar dick. But thank you… what’s your name?” 

“Uji,” he says, a codename that he considers as precious as his actual name, “feel free to call or text this number if you’re ever feeling uncomfortable and in distress.” 

“I’ll keep that in mind, good night Uji.” 

“Good night.” 

That wasn’t so bad, Jihoon thinks as he hangs up the phone. He dims the monitors to let you freshen up and get ready for bed, as per your schedule. After tonight, he hopes he can be sated with his curiosity of you. Maybe he needs to follow your plans and open up a dating account or something, he feels that he’s starting to get a little too engrossed in your presence. 

The waning starts today. 

You: help, i’m feeling uncomfortable and in distress

Uji: what is it this time? 

You: i can’t decide which weighted blanket i should get. Will more weight make me feel more comforted or will i accidentally suffocate myself in my sleep? 

The waning of you did not start that night, in fact it never began. Jihoon’s been on edge for weeks, simultaneously teetering between what he calls the high-school equivalent of the talking stage and an absolute catastrophe. 

It started as an accident, you meant to call your friend’s number for cooking help but since the last call before your friends was his, you called Jihoon instead. To your surprise, he knew how to roll out homemade pasta without a pasta machine. You kept him on the call for the entirety of dinner preparation, and he couldn’t help but feel a twinge of pride when your pasta turned out perfect and you were happy and full for the entire night. 

Weeks later, and you’ve been texting each other for shits and giggles. At first you chalk up your insistence that he’s basically Human Google and has the answers to seemingly anything and everything, but over time it seems that you enjoy your daily interactions with him. Whether it be a simple phone call asking how to unclog your drain or a screenshot comparing two different KitchenAids, he’s at your disposal. 

The burner phone he’s been holding as of late is on silent, but he’s able to pick it up immediately. It’s almost intuition, coupled with the way he notices whenever you seem in a pickle and you need to contact him. However he does not have a chance to formulate a reply, as you’re now calling him.

“Couldn’t wait?” he speaks as if you’re familiar with each other, as if you’re friends. Jihoon longs for that so much, he would love to be upgraded to someone other than the IT guy you text for funsies. 

“Yes,” you say, voice laced with determination, “I’m deciding on whether to just like or Super-Like this guy on Light a Flame.” 

Jihoon deflates a little, but steels himself. You’d never want to go on a date with the IT guy, it seems that you enjoy the anonymity of your recent communications. Your conversations are definitely meme-worthy. 

“Who is it?” 

“His name’s Lee Jihoon, 25, works in the FBI.” 

He chokes on his coffee, precious beans from Argentina, and the liquid is flying across his keyboard. 

Pulling up your phone view, it confirms the worst. In a moment of Weakness with a capital W, Jihoon had caved and made a Light a Flame profile the other night. It’s an app reserved for more serious relationships, which means you’ve finally graduated from Tinder. 

“Are you okay?” he wants to cry when he hears you on the other line, genuinely panicked. “Do you need me to send you his profile?” 

“N-no,” he sputters, rubbing a rough napkin from McDonalds over his dripping chin. He thought he privated his profile last week after he realized there was nothing he could do to let loose of you. Turns out that isn’t the case, because you’re currently pursuing his profile and actually kinda-sorta considering him for a potentially serious relationship. 

“C’mon, Uji,” you tease lightly, “you always seem to know what to do. This is your area of expertise after all, since you work for that kind of department.” 

What should he do, scratch that, what can he do? It’s a complete violation of policy to be fraternizing with his civilian life. Sure, there has been episodes of civilians and agents meeting each other, but only minor violations that both parties forgot about shortly after. He’s so far deep at this point, he can risk being relocated or losing his civilian—losing you. 

“Do you think he really works in the FBI?” you say when he doesn’t reply immediately, “he’s really cute, though. Totally looks like my style, and he likes My Hero as well! C’mon, I just need for you to check as to whether he’s a homicidal maniac or a compulsive liar.” 

Liar. He’s a liar. 

That self-accusation prompts him to slump in defeat, and he mumbles in the phone, “I don’t think he’s worth it. I’d say pass.” 

“Hey, Coups has seniority,” Soonyoung pats Jihoon thoughtfully on the back with one hand, and grilling meat with the other. Barbeque always lifted up Jihoon’s spirits. “Why don’t you give it a chance and meet her for real? And then he can give me your super cute civilian and then he can give my shitty civilian to some newbie.” 

“And if it doesn’t work out, I just lose her,” Jihoon’s eyes are watering, most likely from the excess smoke around their grill, but it does align with his current state of sadness. It was the right thing to do, he thinks over and over as he replays that phonecall from last night. “Hoshi, if you were in my situation, would you have done the same?” 

“Like I said–” Soonyoung—codename Hoshi, waves his tongs around like a magic wand, “your civilian is super cute, so I would be making a beeline to her house and—” 

“Okay, don’t finish that sentence,” you’re his civilian, not Soonyoung’s. 

“Cheer up, c’mon,” Soonyoung’s filling his bowl with all sorts of delicious things, charred vegetables, mixed rice, and pork belly. Jihoon’s favorite is pork belly, so eventually he relents with a timid smile, taking out his chopsticks to appease his friend, “there it is, Uji. Food always makes things better—” 

“Uji?” 

Both off-duty agents freeze, hearing the familiar ting of your voice as it glares holes into Jihoon’s back. It’s you. Since they’re off the clock, he would have no idea you’d be here. Usually that’s fine, it’s early morning and it’s pretty unlikely that you’d run into your civilian considering you’re supposed to know every second of their schedule. It seems that tonight you’ve varied from the norm. 

“Uh, hey?” 

His back is still facing you, and he’s side eying Soonyoung in a panic. He’s wearing a cap and a nondescript hoodie, feeling like a shlub as your familiar voice pings back at him with excitement. 

“I knew I recognized your voice!” you’re unfazed, definitely not realizing the distress the two men are currently going through. “What a small world, I didn’t think we’d ever actually run into each other!” 

“Talk to her, you ass!” Soonyoung hisses, and immediately swivels his chair so he has no choice but to face you.

You’re so, so pretty. Prettier in person, prettier than any crappy 480p screen can give him. You’re definitely not dressed for barbeque, in fact you look like you’re just passing by to pick up a to-go order after a night out. You’re dressed in a silky looking velvet off-the-shoulder top, the cherry red color practically melting onto your skin. The black skirt paired with it has Jihoon salivating for more than just barbeque, and he has no idea how to look away. 

The smile is wiped clean off your face however, and you recognize him almost immediately. “Jihoon?” 

This should be a moment of joy for him, after all it’s far too late to go back at this point. You look a little hurt, your face twisted in confusion as you put two and two together. 

Soonyoung excuses himself to go to the bathroom, although neither party seems to care. The lame, over-distended EDM music that plays over the cacophony of the barbeque place seems to melt in the atmosphere, much like how the smoke hits the fan, and it’s just you two in the room. Jihoon gestures a pale hand to Soonyoung’s seat, and you take a beat to reluctantly sit yourself down. 

You clutch your skirt with both hands, thumbs ringing against the pleats and ironing them out. “So, you’re also Jihoon?” your voice is tiny, small and sad. Jihoon feels liquid guilt inject in his veins, and he wishes he could reach out and pat your shoulder, hold your hand, something. However no matter how much he knows you, he’s a stranger to you. “Why did you lie to me?” 

“It’s… complicated,” you shake your head at his pathetic reply, and Jihoon hates this. He feels like he’s drowning in smoke and mirrors and the cloying scent of pork belly is now sticking to all his senses, immobilizing him. 

With a cross of your arms, you scoff, “It’s always complicated.” 

“Please don’t think I said those things the other night because I don’t want to date you,” Jihoon tumbles the words out like a hamster wheel, wanting to speed up to your pace as fast as he can, “I want to, I really do, but it’s—”

“Complicated.” 

“Yeah.” 

The two of you sit in silence, letting the noise back into your little bubble. Jihoon feels his stare on you, akin to how a teacher looks over your shoulder during an exam. He robotically eats rice, grain after grain as he lets you have your look. 

The slope of his nose, the cotton smooth skin, the lean yet strong stature. You can’t believe he matches the Light a Flame profile perfectly. Other than the frumpy clothes, he matches the man on your phone, a simple picture in a black suit that reminds you strangely of the movie Kingsman. You mentally roll through what you remember from his profile, his hobbies, his likes and dislikes, his occupation—

“Wait,” you pause, your brows knitting together, “so the FBI thing on your profile… is not a joke?” 

Jihoon forgets to chew his last bite, and he swallows a whole two centimeters of meat down his throat. Ouch. 

“It’s—” 

“Complicated.” 

The adjective has a whole new meaning now. It’s crazy how in so little words, so much is exchanged between you two. You might not be realizing it, but Jihoon’s so attuned to you he feels like the pick to your guitar, strumming and humming along your chords like it’s second nature. It really isn’t fair, but anticipating your reactions helps greatly. 

“There’s things you’re not telling me.” 

“Right.” 

“And things you can’t tell me,” you add. 

“Yes.” 

“Then what are some things you can tell me?” 

“I’d… rather not here,” Jihoon’s eyes dart around the room, looking for all the pinholes and micro cams attached to the restaurant. By the bonsai, under the table, in the koi tank, “I need to work out some paperwork before anything.” 

“Paperwork?” 

Jihoon nods mutely, but he looks at you with a litany of emotions in his eyes you’re reeling back in your stool. Why do you feel like this man knows you from a simple five-minute interaction? And why do you feel like you can trust this man with your life? 

“Okay,” you finally say. 

“Really? Okay?” you think he’s cute, the way his eyes perk up and his back straightens. 

“Really.” 

Silence fills the space once more. This time however, it feels more at ease. 

“The only reason why I’m saying yes,” you pretend to nonchalantly play with your fingertips, a manicure reserved for a date you’ve long abandoned for this evening in favor of a new flame, “is because I think FBI agents are kinda hot.” 

A flush blooms on Jihoon’s cheeks, and you can’t help but giggle. 

[dear--charlie]

Dear Charlie,

every time I remember you, I regret not writing to you more often. So, here I am again. There are so many things on my mind ... but as I am typing, I know one thing I can start with, or more like dedicate this whole letter to. I think it's a good time to write everything down here and now – to you. It’s  personal, I hope no one I know ever find this, the chances are zero, but even if, it doesn’t matter anyways. So, it will be a long letter, you’re warned!

It started in fall, one and a half years ago, when I was at a friends place. She had invited some friends over to hang out in the evening. Another friend of a friend was also coming, he wasn’t there yet and I didn’t know him, just his name from stories. So we were sitting in the room, playing something as he also arrives. The moment he entered the room, I knew. Normally I don’t „sense“ the energy someone brings or something like that, but in this moment, I just felt I would like him. I felt we would get along. And I wasn’t wrong.

We all continued to play and chat, I didn’t talk to him directly that evening, just within the group. One time someone said something and he responded, the answer he gave, the words he chose and how he pronounced them were exactly what I was thinking and how I would’ve responded myself. There is this quote I read some months ago, it’s about how with so many people on this planet, it’s no coincidence that others are thinking the same, but it’s still a fucking wonder to meet someone who says what you are thinking. But I didn’t know this quote back then, I just sat there and felt it’s immensity. The next really weird thing, well, one of the thirst things I noticed probably, he looked and spoke just like him. With him I mean the one (and to this day still the only) person I was „lovestroke“ for. Really, if you could see them both, you wouldn’t believe it either. With the difference, that he was not only cuter, but also the fact that he was in that room and friends with my friends, what meant that we two might actually have things in common. Kind of unreal! For a moment I also thought: How come y’all never introduced us? Isn’t it obvious we are alike, or might be? How could we know our friends for years but our paths never crossed? Of course everyone only has their lives on mind, but this just crossed my mind in an egocentric flash. Well on this evening, we all didn’t stay long. When I walked home I checked to find his social media, but his account was private and I didn’t send a request. Shortly after when I came home I got a notification and saw that he followed me.

After that night – nothing really happened. Not nothing, we sometimes texted a bit. We skipped smalltalk, just talked about music and stuff, but like I said, not much. Once he told some personal things. Nothing more. There were a lot of other things going on in my life and it just got less.

Many weeks later when I hung out with two of the friends who also know him, they mentioned his name, then looked meaningful at each other. When I looked confused, one friend told me the two of them hooked up, but it was clear she wasn’t positive about it or him. She didn’t elaborate and I didn’t ask because I didn’t want to come across interested.

Let’s fast forward several months. It was summer and our mutual friend asked me if I’d be down to go swimming the next day. I said yes and got to hers in the morning and she suddenly said we’ll drive to his and pick him up because he’ll be coming as well. I literally went „!“ inside. So we got there and picked him up. Everything was normal, we met other friends and went swimming. Before that I wasn’t sure how it will be, if I’d still get this feeling, or do I just like him friendship-wise? But this afternoon let no doubt. It was a crush. We talked a bit and also I recognised that he looked at me sometimes. I was sure I wasn’t just imagining.

A month later a big group of friends went on holidays together for a week, including me and him. One night when just the two of us were outside and talking I regretted everything later in bed because I thought I messed it up by not talking much and when saying the wrong things and so on. But then, one night, he slept in my room and we finally hooked up. Also the next day in the bathroom. On our way home we also cuddled in the car and when we said goodbye we said we’ll see each other. Usually, after a week with many people I’d want to chill, but I immediately had the urge to see him again the moment I sat down on my bed. We texted and set up a date a few days later. I couldn’t wait.

We met and went on a hill to watch the sunset. We made out and walked around. It never felt so right for me to hold someones hand publicly. I also told him I would leave for a while, in a month. Before we said goodbye, we talked. I was kind of an idiot because I overshared, and lowkey told him I like him, which I regretted later. When I walked home that night I remember smiling like a dumbass. When I thought about him, I had to smile. Never had I thought that this can be true, that you just have to smile and can’t fight it. So weird. Felt like I was micro dosing molly for a week straight.

Anyways. Then the trouble began. Nothing big in the beginning, but it was very hard to set up dates with him in general and when we were about to meet again he cancelled right before. It wasn’t like when you make plans with someone and they then can’t make it and you’re fine with it, because I was actually sad about it. Also it felt more like it was due to his mismanaged time and that it wasn’t as much as a priority for him. When I saw him in person I felt like he reciprocated everything, which I also never experienced like this. So I was confused. Then I straight up texted if he wants to see me again, or not really? Something that I would have never done that quickly anytime before, but I didn’t want to get my hopes up and was running out of time before I was leaving. He replied that I got it wrong, he really wants to see me again.

And we saw each other again. I went to his place. There was a bit of a fog over it in the beginning, but i eventually passed and we hooked up. I slept there. The next day, he brought me to the train. I think we even kissed as goodbye. He said he would like to do this again, I replied I’d love to. This was the last time I saw him for about a year.

I texted the next days for new plans, nothing came out of it. So I decided to wait for him to ask the next time. I waited 7 days. I almost went mad. It was his birthday in between and I decided not to text him, would’ve been weird. I texted a friend, who's also friends with him and asked if I could meet her. We met and I told her pretty much the whole story. She listened the whole time and asked things in between. Then she said she knows the reason he didn’t reach out. He has another girl and is really in love. I started crying in the middle of the street.

He would have never told me, called, texted or just anything. I was hurt by that. My friend said she would talk to him and hint that he should tell me. And he actually texted me a few days later if I would want to meet „to talk“. I agreed. When he finally responded he postponed the meet up again. I couldn't wait another several days for a conversation that he might reschedule again. It was clearly not important to him at all. I said we should just drop it. That’s was it. No final talk.

Months later, when I was back in town, I saw him on Bumble. I asked my friend about it, but she said it’s weird since she still has his girlfriend. Then I see him on Tinder with an up to date profile. In my mind-delusion I assumed they might actually not date anymore and my friend just doesn’t know yet. Then I saw him again for the first time since everything at a party. He talked to me normally, like nothing happened. Some days later I ask friends why he is on Tinder when he still has a girlfriend. For some reason a part of me expected to hear „oh yeah they broke up“, but no, they told me they both are on there to meet „friends“. I let my illusions go and tried to accept everything as it was.

The funny thing is, I started the draft to this story some days ago. Wanted to write it down to be finished with it and let it go once and for all. Since then I found out they broke up. But this doesn’t mean anything now. I accepted that there will be nothing serious between us, or, at least, I am on the best way to it. I will see him again, because of our mutual friends. So we’ll see how I will do.

I just rarely had such a vibe with someone and it's hard to let that go, you know? Meeting someone you could actually fit together with, someone you feel like you can be authentically yourself in front of at some point, ... it basically never happens. It would have been easier to let it go if he would have been honest and told me in a last talk. Of course, in the beginning I would have been sad as well, but eventually, there is less potential to obsess when it feels finished. And doing the correct thing is what stays, I'm not just saying that, you know I really do appreciate it. Still don't know if I should be angry or just forgive by myself, without ever bringing it up again.

That’s all about this story for now.

I really hope you are good.

Love,

ZL

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