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jubilantwriter · 3 years

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Of Blood and Static

Chapter 3: But I'm hoping something new will happen.

(AO3) (First) (Previous) (Next)

Word Count: 2729

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The Lady is aware of the loops. The ignorance begins at the start of her journey, where the deja vu first strikes her when she catches a glimpse of a boy in a paper bag. The feeling remains as bits and pieces fall into place - where to run, where to hide, and where to jump to. She knows which places are the best to hold on to when a boy in an olive coat comes running and leaping her way. The warmth of his hand is also familiar, as is the sound of his voice, and the kindness he exudes. Of course, as a child, she chooses not to acknowledge these strange feelings, focusing more so on their joint survival.

Things feel natural around the boy. How she enjoys smiling and offering a small laugh in his company. Giving him aid and comfort when he needs it. Watching with concern and worry as he rushes off to face things on his own. Perhaps she should have questioned why she was so quick to lower her guard around him. Perhaps she shouldn't have ignored it.

(Although, what good would have come from acknowledging it?)

Little things keep falling through the cracks and into place as she traverses the city with him. It's easy to call him her friend. Easy to know how to make him smile and laugh. Easy to know what's on his mind and predict his next move.

The cracks grow wider and wider, the picture slowly growing more and more complete as more pieces slip through to feed her memory and actions. She calls him over to a piano, where they must jump on it over and over to make it fall. The instinct is natural, as though she knew all along that destroying this nice instrument would be the key to their escape.

She doesn’t question how she knows it was the right course of action. Perhaps she should have. Mono plays on the keys, and she stops her jumping to watch him try and play a tune. It doesn't work, but it makes her laugh, and that makes Mono laugh.

She should have learned to question this strange naturalness, these strange memory fragments that tell her to look at him in scorn, and to look at him with a kindness that matches his own.

Perhaps that's why letting him go hurts so much. Tears trickle down her cheeks as she holds him, dangling over the ledge.

She has to let go. She has to. It's what her instinct tells her.

(But she doesn't want to. She loves listening to him laugh - it's like a melody unlike the one her music box used to have. She wants to hear it more, fearing that she'll lose that chance someday.)

Mono looks up at her with wide eyes and shock as her tears fall onto his face. He stays shocked as she pulls her hand away from him. Stays shocked even as she fails to form a single "goodbye" or "I'm sorry" before he disappears into the abyss.

Once she becomes the Lady, her memories return in a bigger stream, a larger crack that threatens to bring down the entire wall held up between her memories and not-memories. It's then that she realizes what the television must be for.

(His eyes looked just like the Thin Man's. The connection was made, but she never stopped to question how she knew. Now that she has all the time until her death, she knows why the resemblance struck her as uncanny.)

She presses her hand against the glass of the screen as though it is second nature and watches as it turns on by itself. As she waits for the channel to stabilize, she can't help but wonder just how many times they have done this for her to start out with the picture growing steadily and steadily more complete when she wakes up as a child. How many times has she dropped Mono? How many times have they fought, betrayed, hurt each other before either of them could remember that they've done this before?

Ignorance is bliss, so they say - but to always be so ignorant as a child and then face the consequences as an adult, knowing that the mistakes they made could have been avoided...

Her fingers curl against the warming glass. This television wasn't always here. It must have been through the sheer patience and willpower of one of them that mended their relationship enough for this television to be here. The earlier loops remain a fuzzy recollection to her, but for a man who keeps memories like recordings, it must have pained the Thin Man with each dragging iteration for them to finally reach this stage.

The silhouette of said man appears on the screen, and he looks just as defeated, just as tired, as her many loops have shown her before. She knows the reason for why they continue this endless game of catch-and-release, why she convinces him that there is still a way out for him.

Survival.

But even she's grown tired of her own excuse.

"Mono?" No words greet her as he remains slumped in his chair. "Mono, I'm sorry."

"Mono?" The words feel more like an echo than clear text on a screen. "Strange of you to start off with my childhood name."

"It's your name."

"Not anymore." He straightens in his seat, ramrod and upright as if assuming a position of sorts. "Mono belongs to the boy with the paper bag. I'm not that boy anymore, my Lady."

"You'll always be Mono, just as I will always be Six," she presses. Her mask clinks against the glass as she leans forward. "I'm sorry, Mono, for dropping you again."

No words appear on the screen. This is it, she thinks, no more second chances, no more loops. But why does she care? Is it really for survival? To continue this farce of being alive just to die and live to be tortured and traumatized and broken and betrayed? For so long, she believed that this was how it was supposed to be. But she was always good at lying.

Especially to herself.

"I'm sorry," she repeats, because that's all she can say. He's tired, but she's pushed him past his limits time and time again. And he allowed her to, just because of- what? Because he didn't want to be alone? Because he used this to enact his own act of vengeance, whatever that may be?

She got more out of this than he ever did. Perhaps he realizes this. Perhaps that's why he always asks why she drops him. Perhaps that's why he always holds a thinly veiled plea for her to give it up. He could end the loops easily. He could just not capture her younger self, not harm a hair on his younger self, and they could both escape the Tower. It's that easy.

(...Right? She digs through her memories, hoping to come across a shard that reveals this to her. But alas, she can't find one. What she finds instead is a pile of grounded dust hidden amongst the shards and puzzle pieces, as though someone had thoroughly crushed it and ground it into the floor to erase it from her mind. And only one person could have done that.)

"I'm sorry," she says again, because that's all she can say. "I'm sorry for letting you down again."

"You didn't." She almost misses his words flashing on the screen, and it's almost pathetic how she clings to them. As if she committed no wrong. "I promise you didn't."

"I let you fall. Again." And for what reason? There's always a reason. But she can't find one this time. Not one that makes sense, to be precise. Because she didn't want to let him go. She didn't.

"I know." His words are oddly calm, strangely soothing. They shouldn't be, after all she's put him through. As if she's the one who needs comforting. "I know you did. But I'm not upset."

"Why?" She presses him for answers, because there's no way he can be so calm about this. How many times have they repeated this? For her sake? Never his sake, just hers.

"You gave me a gift this loop."

"...What?"

"A gift." As if to fully emphasize his point, he opens his hands to reveal something. She squints at the screen, but she can't see what it is that he holds so tenderly in his hands. "Do you remember? The hat you found for me."

She blinks behind her mask, nearly stunned silent at the memory. "I... do." It was an old, ratty thing that she found in one of the apartments they'd stumbled through. She had picked it up behind his back as he was searching around for anything they could use, the white of the hat long since dirtied and the ends of the ribbon tattered with age and possible abuse.

A sailor's cap.

When she first presented it to him, his delighted squeal made her smile proudly as he turned to take off his bag and put the hat on. It was bigger than his head with the rim of the cap slipping over his eyes a bit, but he smiled widely for her to see before turning away bashfully to hide his face completely. He'd only worn it for that moment, and she'd concluded that it was a pretty bad hat since it didn't hide his face like he wanted.

"I loved it. I still do." The affection from his words startles her. "Now, it only fits on the tip of my finger, but I still wish that I could have worn it more around you." A pause. "You showed me a kindness I didn't expect. You rarely give presents, after all."

"It was by pure chance that I found it." It wasn't like she was actively searching for it - the sheer dumb luck she possessed that day was what allowed her to come across it. His love for hats was firmly cemented in her mind, and the choice to present it to him was purely on impulse. Like playing together in the school playground. Or sitting down by the vending machine to try out all the weird, flat drinks it had. Pure impulse.

"Still." He tenderly cradles the tiny thing in his hands, and she swears that she can see the smile on his lips despite the distance between them. "It was something different."

Meaning is pressed upon his words, and she struggles to find the right memory for it. But before she can give him a response, his words flash on the screen once more. Somehow, there's a bit of whimsy attached to them, as if he's expecting her to have run out of excuses by now.

"So tell me, dear friend, why did you let me go that day?" She can almost hear his soft tone from her side of the screen (how she so desperately wants to hear it again).

"I..." Her mind struggles to find a reason. Any reason, really, to have let him go. She presses her lips into a thin line, unseen due to her mask. What could she say? What does he want her to say? For what purpose does she need to create a reason for letting him go? Her mind stumbles upon a memory that continues like a loop. A horror that stings her conscience like a lingering wound. Well, better to open up than to let it fester, right? "I wanted a do-over."

"A do-over?" He tilts his head to the side, curious by nature. "How would you know that as a child?"

"We've been through these events so often, Mono, that things tend to linger." She's lying, of course, but perhaps he knows that already. "So of course the feelings can carry over."

"And why did you want a do-over?"

"I..." It’s not something she’s proud of - it’s something she’d rather keep buried forever until she dies and repeats the same horrible, Hunger-induced mistake again, but what’s a few demons between friends? "Before I became the Lady, and when I was still Six, I developed this unruly Hunger."

"Yes, I recall you telling me this before."

"So you would know that I must feed this Hunger before it consumes me entirely." She prepares herself as she watches him lean forward in interest.

"What did you eat, Six?"

Ah, he used her name.

"I... may have eaten a child."

"...Excuse me?"

"I ate a child." She watches as he straightens in his seat, no doubt horrified by her admission.

"You... ate a what?"

"A child. As a child."

"As a child?"

"By accident, may I add."

"By ACCIDENT?"

Oh, she didn't know he could do that with his words.

"By accident." There's no use in skirting the edges of this conversation, now that she's dredged it up herself. "Allow me to explain."

"I don't think I want an explanation."

"You do, I insist." She pulls her hand off the screen to gesture elegantly through the series of events that led to her consumption of the nome. How she had powers to turn children into nomes as an adult. How she, as a child, had no idea that these nomes she'd encounter were actual children. How she, in her vicious Hunger, lashed out at a nome trying to help her and... consumed it. How she, as an adult, finally connected the dots. By the time she finishes her tale, the Thin Man is cradling his head in his hands instead. "And that is why I dropped you. I needed a do-over badly."

"Because you ate a child."

"Because I was going to consume a child, and I had the forethought to plan ahead." She watches as he drags his hands down his face, perhaps rethinking his earlier affection.

"Six, I..." His words trail off, as he fidgets in his seat. "I can't say that I've been any kinder to children than you have, but I can at least confidently say that I haven't eaten any."

"They are actually quite tender and sweet-"

"I really do not want to know." She giggles as he manages to silently cut her off. "But. I guess. I can understand your reasoning." His shoulders slump in what she can only assume is a sigh. "We can try again, so long as you try not to eat another child."

"I can't make any promises."

"Please, I am begging you. At least not as a child."

She smiles as she returns her hand to the warm glass. "I can try. After all, that's the whole point of me dropping you, hm? For another chance to do things right."

"Please. Please do this right." She watches him put something away in his suit pocket, and a fondness warms her soul as he pats it securely. "Please do not resort to cannibalism so early on. I can't say the same for when you're an adult but... at least as a child. Please?"

"You're begging quite a lot, my good sir."

"If you dropped me in hopes of preventing this singular tragedy from continuing, I think it is within my rights to beg for you to keep your word."

"True." She hums softly to herself as she curls her fingers against the screen. "Perhaps I can surprise you again this time around."

"Perhaps." He pauses from his side of the screen as he straightens his posture. "But knowing you, I'm sure you will."

She smiles behind her mask, despite knowing the tragedy that befalls them.

(A little boy in a blue sweater tries to run past her as she screams in rage. Before he can get any further, she captures him in her grasp and watches as he struggles against her hold. She could turn him into a little scrabbling creature, doomed to labor thanklessly in the depths of her ship.

But.

She tosses him at the wall, an audible thud in her dressing room as the shadows drag him away from her sight. It would be a waste of energy to deal with this one when she has more pressing matters to deal with. And besides, she has enough nomes to exploit for loops to come.)

The loop ends with the creaks of bending buildings and the groans of a rocking ship.

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secret-engima · 4 years

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missingmywing

Okay, but imagine Ignis as Rufus. Who looks around, and sees everything that he fought against in a previous lifetime, now in power, now with the expectation that he would endorse it. And Ignis knows politics, he spent a childhood previously elbow-deep in the thick them, learning to protect his prince. He knows the games, the moves. Sharp minded, ever practical Ignis looks around and says "No. This will not stand."

missingmywing

And every move he makes has several layers of purpose. He plays the son of the President to a T- all the while doing everything in his power to undermine Shinra. And he looks at the Turks, and sees potential. (I could also see him as Lazard, but I feel like Rufus would be more fitting, somehow.)

missingmywing

As for Gladio: Angeal. A complete 180 from his last life, he grows up with nothing but his family, and he loves them even as he aches for what isn't there. And then he meets a redhead boy who's all swagger and tough-talk with a temper that he can't fully fight back and suddenly has the thought "Is this what Ignis felt like dealing with me?" Suddenly Gladio is the braincell, arguing against a boy who feels he has something to prove and will do reckless things to prove it.

missingmywing

And he follows after a boy who he feels doesn't take things seriously enough, and is too immature, but this time it's not out of duty. It's to keep this boy who's a reflection of himself at his absolute worst, with none of the growth or maturity he grew into, from getting himself killed taking on something he can't handle. (And then he meets Sephiroth. And then he meets Ignis. And things suddenly get very complicated. And about twenty times more stressful.)

Me: Oooo this is GLORIOUS. @swiftyue suggested Ignis as Tseng, which is ALSO glorious, but I will admit this one is more tempting. Just-

Ignis is reborn and for a while he doesn’t remember. But then there’s a kidnapping attempt that is both successful and also not, and the Turks find “Rufus” two weeks later out in the wastelands outside Midgar with shaking hands and too-keen eyes, because Rufus almost died and now Ignis has WOKEN UP.

Only to find that now HE is the royalty (in all but name). HE is the child of a cruel empire, destined to sit on its throne and he hates it, he HATES it.

He looks out upon all Rupert Shinra (not father, NEVER father, that bloody, apathetic tyrant will never be Ignis’s parent) has built and decides he will tear it down. He will rip it up by the roots and if nothing can be salvaged then he will burn it to the ground.

But he is (was) the Hand of a king, he knows better than to rush out like a revolutionary, causing collateral left and right, hurting the innocent people. He will not be one of those angry, shortsighted vigilantes who tear down businesses, ruin livelihoods and break families of the ordinary citizens who’s only sin is that they, like so many others, live and work in the shadow of Shinra’s sins. Oh no.

Ignis stands to inherit an empire. He has a lifetime of political training and experience and patience to back him up already. He was a CORNERSTONE of the survival of mankind during the Long Night.

He will play the long game, he has the time. He will sit on his throne and move his pieces across Rupert Shinra’s board.

And he will win.

He wears the name and skin of Rufus Shinra like a theater mask, a tailored suit. He listens to everything his tutors can give him and then sneaks off to the library for more. The mayor finds him endearing really, with his gentle manners and his lust for knowledge of history, arts, and sciences. He watches the Turks that guard him and in them he sees the keys to all of Shinra, and so he plays that game too. The Turks underestimate him, even as they watch his “prodigy mind” absorbing information years ahead of what he should be. Rupert is thrilled to have a genius child, but even he doesn’t know how vast Ignis’s mind is. Only the Turks get that glimpse, and only the ones he thinks are worthy.

Tseng quickly becomes a favorite, he reminds Ignis of himself, and they get along splendidly. Reno and Rude come later, a matched pair that reminds Ignis of things from his past life and make him smile (the first time Tseng hears Rufus laugh out loud, he goes still in shock. Reno, a new rookie Turk at the time, has no clue what a miracle he’s created just by trying and failing to make hot chocolate, how the young child of the president hasn’t openly laughed or smiled since his kidnapping and two week disappearance.)

One by one, Ignis draws the Turks in. He is charismatic for his age and smart, he knows how to win people over, especially people who know that he was “up to something”. Some of them he wins over by being “endearingly bad” at manipulation, like a Coeurl cub being cooed at for its clumsy pounces rather than feared for the deadly killer it is teaching itself to become. Others he wins over with his mind, impressing the keen sighted with his intelligence and drive and work ethic.

Some, like Tseng, he wins over by being the most of himself he’s ever been. It’s Tseng who discovers Ignis’s cooking obsession, how baking from scratch and making filling dishes for others to eat relaxes him like nothing else. It’s Tseng who realizes one day that his charge wears the name “Rufus Shinra” like an suit that is tailored wrong so that it chafes and wears.

But Ignis knows he’s won the Turks the day Veld comes to visit (as he sometimes does, for the head of such a deadly division, the man has a heart for children and Rufus is the only one he has any reason to visit during his long months of work) and catches Tseng calling Ignis “Ignis”, because Tseng had asked what name he would prefer over “Rufus” and Ignis had dared to answer honestly, and doesn’t tell Rupert. He just watches Tseng and Ignis interact with sharp eyes, accept the muffin Ignis bossily pressed into his hand, and then let it slide.

An identity crisis is something Rupert would have wanted to know (should have been told). But Rupert never speaks of it and Ignis is certain he doesn’t know. Veld has kept the secret. And it’s only a little one really, but it’s one of Ignis’s secrets Veld is choosing to keep. It’s foot in the door.

Ignis can do a lot with a foot in the door.

And then of course later, Ignis learns he’s not alone. He reunites with Gladio first, and the Turks sit up internally at how FAST their young vice president bonds with the Soldier, how quickly they fall into a rhythm around each other that speaks of years of partnership rather than a few months of friendship.

And then he learns there are OTHER. Prompto and Luna and NOCTIS and Ignis could cry from relief that he is not alone anymore in this second lifetime. He is not the only one anymore.

...

And YES. GLADIO AS ANGEAL LET’S DO THAT. I just- I love this idea so much. That Gladio wakes up when he’s young, and he remembers- being someone else. Being a Shield and a Crownsguard and a leader and a brother and now-

Now he’s an only child, an ordinary child in an ordinary orchard town and he loves his parents, he does, and he loves the lazy days of BEING a child without having to train for an inherited duty but-.

But it still aches.

He walks in the shadow of someone no one can see, and he watches the sunrise and thinks he hears a camera clicking when there is none, and sometimes he can barely swallow his mother’s apple pie because it’s GOOD but it ISN’T IGGY’S. It tastes WRONG, like it’s less somehow than Ignis’s familiar (safe, home) cooking and- and it hurts. It makes him quieter and steadier than most kids, more patient and more honorable. He has been a leader of men, a Shield of a King (a brother who failed), a warrior who helped hold back the darkness of the Long Night. The problems of children seem awfully small compared to all that.

And then he meets Genesis. Genesis who is too smart and too immature by turns, who is BRIGHT and brilliant and has something to prove wherever he goes, because his rich parents may love him, but they do not pay attention to him in the way he needs and all Angeal (Gladio) can see is himself. Young and stubborn and angry at a world that already has his destiny laid out, eager to prove himself in any way he could an Astrals is this how Ignis felt dealing with him? No wonder his brother in arms got so impatient sometimes. Angeal feels like smacking Genesis upside the head more than once, but instead he bites it back and channels his adult side into keeping this kid from doing something dumb.

It takes him a few years to realize he is now Genesis’s Ignis and inside he’s a bit of a Scream™.

Angeal has no interest in Shinra, he can smell the corruption from a hundred miles away, but Genesis is obsessed and not willing to budge on this no matter how Angeal wheedles, so the day Genesis runs off to sign up, Angeal is on his heels sighing bitterly that he is once again signing himself up to a military life.

And then he meets Sephiroth, who is so clearly abused and weaponized and lost in a world outside the labs that it HURTS and Angeal can’t stop himself from being a Shield again. From standing between Sephiroth and the world with a steady, controlled ferocity that unknowingly takes Sephiroth’s breath away.

(Sephiroth meets them in Wutai, two more recruits to the war, and at first he has only eyes for Genesis, who is loud and competitive and confusing and annoying)

(He doesn’t really notice the bigger one with black hair and knowing eyes trailing along behind)

(Until another Soldier starts getting too pushy and angry over something Sephiroth did that he doesn’t understand and his control over his instincts to lash out is shaking and then suddenly there’s someone standing between them, a wall of muscle where there was none before, a broad young back of another Soldier, a rookie, who looks the older Soldier in the eyes and growls at him to back off while Genesis orbits nearby with a fire materia and a gleam in his eyes.)

(And Sephiroth learns that the wall’s name is Angeal)

Angeal gets attached, and during one of his leaves, he comes back with a tender back and arms from the tattoo of an eagle with spread wings (and the style is wrong, not like his old one, he’d gone to a Wutai parlor and they had a different art style, but it is HIS. His feathers and his promise. When Sephiroth runs curious fingers down the feathers on his bicep, Angeal tells him it’s a promise to his friends and Sephiroth looks surprised to realize that he is included in that promise).

Then they are recalled to Midgar, to a city that stinks of corruption and Angeal-

And Gladio-

Finds Ignis again.

And that is stressful, because what if that means Noct is out there alone somewhere, but it is also a RELIEF because he never knew how exhausting being the group Braincell was until now and he needs to vent, even if it means Ignis gets to laugh at his misery.

#Secret Engima Rambles #Sunshine and Clouds verse

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jimlingss · 5 years

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Jungle Park [4]

Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 4.5 OR Chapter 5

➜ Words: 5.7k

➜ Genres: Fluff, Light Humour (?), Slice of Life, Workplace Romance!AU

➜ Summary: The equation is simple. Hoseok needs to hire someone. You need a job. Except like any actual equation, it’s not fucking simple at all! Not when you have to add the fact that he was forced to hire someone he doesn’t want in his office, he has little respect for your job in general, and oh yeah...once upon a time you might have—*CENSORED*.

➜ Warnings: swearing

Right as things seem to be improving and you’re slowly being less ostracized by the others, it plummets all to hell again. It’s no wonder that so many people hate HR. You’re constantly going after the employees and you’re really beginning to feel like Hoseok’s personal henchman. “Am I being fired?” Lisa cuts straight to the point, eyeing how the conference room door is closed and the shades have been drawn for the utmost privacy. She faces you from across the table and glances at Hoseok who’s behind you, chair against the wall, preoccupied with some work and flipping through a stack of papers. “No, no, you’re not,” you try to reassure the female receptionist to no avail. You’re perfectly aware that out of everyone, Lisa has the most hostility towards you. It’s justified too, since you basically fired her best friend and now she thinks you have it out for the receptionists. “Then what is it?” “I would like to just brush up on the dress code with you.” You try your best to offer the kindest smile while damning Hoseok on why he made you do this. It’s your job, but still. “It’s not a huge deal, but the firm’s dress code is business professional and it applies to everyone. For men, it’s buttoned suits with ties or dress pants and sports jackets. And women can wear pencil skirts or dress pants with a top and jacket, or a dress or suit as well. Muted and neutral colours are generally encouraged, but there’s some flexibility there. Shoes can be opened toed or closed, as long as they’re not sandals or sneakers or boots...” Your hands are clasped on the table and you continue, “There are a lot of choices to choose from. But Jung and Park find it especially important for you to adhere to the dress code because you greet clients that come in. In a way, you’re the face of the entire firm—” “So what you’re saying is you want me to button up my blouse more?” She interrupts you and her glare is directed towards Hoseok for a few seconds before she looks down at her own shirt. “Yes.” You retain your reserved smile, keeping your voice light and trying your best to clearly deliver your message without misunderstandings. “It’s a bit revealing. You look fantastic! I really like your fashion sense! But maybe it’s more appropriate for an evening out with friends rather than a professional office setting.” “Maybe people shouldn’t let their eyes wander,” she mutters passive aggressively and moves on before you can address her concern. “If the dress code is so important, then I’d like to tell you that Taehyung comes in his pajamas sometimes.” “I will talk to him about it,” you promise her and she nods, already moving to do up two more buttons on her white blouse. “How is Dahyun? Is she doing alright with you?” “She’s fine,” Lisa says in a curt tone. “If this is all, can I go now?” “Uh...yes, you can go now. Thank you for this discussion.” It’s shorter and easier than what you were preparing for. In the next few seconds, the receptionist swiftly stood and opened the door, waltzing out. You’ve also stood up, shuffling your stack of papers. Hoseok continues to sit there without moving, flipping to his next page, but the corner of his mouth moves. “You need to be more stern,” he mumbles, barely coherent. “I’m doing fine,” you tell him and with that, you leave. No one said your job would be easy. When Jimin told you this place was full of high conflict, he wasn’t kidding. It seems like office drama and gossip runs like the wild west here. But recently, the flood of complaints made against each other seemed to stop entirely. Maybe people didn’t want to file official complaints or they simply decided to band together against you and Hoseok. If it’s the latter reason, you’re happy that you at least got to lessen the tension around the office. It takes teamwork to revolt against authority figures. And….well, even if no one wants to be your friend anymore, you still like your job. It’s a lot better than driving a damn taxi around. “Um, Y/N?” There’s a timid knock on your door and you bolt your head upright, tearing your eyes away from the computer screen. At the doorway, Sebin linger hesitantly, arms holding onto a thick file. “Do...do you have some time?’ “Of course!” You stand, perhaps a little too enthusiastically. Nonetheless, you welcome her in and when she takes a seat, you happily close the door for privacy. You just can’t believe that someone’s actually here, greeting you, asking for your help, and you’re about to pull out all stops. “What can I do for you?” “I just need to talk to someone.” The girl brushes her long brunette hair until it’s behind her, draping her backside. Her eyes divert to her lap, fingers playing with the hem of her beige pencil skirt before she looks up at you. “I’ve been having a hard time recently.” “Do you know what you’re having a hard time with? Is it your family or your personal life or is it because of someone in the office?” She shakes her head with a modest smile. “No, no one’s been anything but nice to me here. I just feel stuck.” You nod, actively listening and reading her expression. “Can you elaborate? What do you mean by stuck?” “I just…” The legal assistant sighs, a heavy exhale squeezing from her lungs. “I wonder what I’m doing. I like my job. I think it’s easy and straightforward. It pays the bills too. I really love and adore everyone here. Jimin was the one who hired me and I feel like I owe it to him to stick this out...but I don’t know...I keep thinking about it and I can’t get rid of this feeling.” “Sebin, you don’t owe it to anyone to stick it out.” You repeat her exact words and you reach across your desk to squeeze her hand. “There’s no one here who would understand better than Jimin.” She smiles, thankful that you’re offering her comfort. “I don’t know if this is what I want for myself anymore. But if I leave this place, I don’t know where I will go, I don’t know where I would get money.” “Do you have any savings?” “I do. But what if I can’t find another job? What if no one’s hiring? I know the economy isn’t great.” “At this point, I don’t think the economy will ever be good.” You grin and she laughs behind her hand, agreeing with you. “There are a lot of reasons why you shouldn't do something. Sometimes...you just gotta go for it, as stupid as that sounds.” The girl is kind of surprised. She expected you to coerce her to stay and she wondered if you’d just turn around and tattle to Hoseok later. She wouldn’t be all that shocked if Hoseok chucked a cardboard box at her head and told her to clean out her desk before the end of the day for even thinking of leaving her job. But Sebin is pleased to hear your encouragements and a part of her thinks you won’t tell Hoseok. Your sincerity reaches her. “Can you be honest with me?” “Of course,” you reassure, wondering when you’ve ever been dishonest. “Do you think it’s dumb?” The paralegal makes wild gestures with her hands. “I mean...my job right now isn’t hard…” “Just because it’s easy, it doesn’t mean you’ll like it.” You hum and begin to reminisce. “I’ve been at jobs for the sake of money before and I was miserable the entire time. Actually, I only have this position right now because I made the decision to quit my old job….for the same reasons as you.” You continue, “And as hard as this job can be sometimes, I love it a lot. I don’t think there’s anything I’d rather do than be here and help people, get to know them and boost office morale while still being a part of the team.” Sebin smiles warmly, in awe at how you speak so passionately even when you know HR is a mundane job. “I’m not even sure of what I want.” “Well…” You lean back. “If money wasn’t a concern, what would you want to do?” “I don’t know.” It’s a typical question, but the legal assistant considers it carefully. “I’d travel. I’d eat a lot. I...I always wanted to become a teacher, so maybe I’d do that. I had a job as a teacher’s aide before. I just never thought I could be an actual teacher. Somewhere along the way, I applied for this job...and then I stuck to it.” “And now you’re really stuck,” you say lightheartedly and she nods. “I think you would be a great teacher, Sebin. You have the patience for it for sure and it’s never really too late to do anything. If you have savings, you could do it, return to school and see what you need to complete your degree. There’re tons of bursaries and scholarships for adult students as well. In fact, I may have something for you.” You open your left drawer, thanking the heavens of your bad habit of taking brochures that you don’t need. In ten seconds, you’ve fished for the right one and you slide the pamphlet over to her. “You can also continue working while going to school. There’s a lot of options out there.” The girl’s eyes are glazed over, holding back tears. “Thank you for this, Y/N. I really appreciate it. I had no one else to talk to and...this just means a lot to me.” “No problem.” If you were happy before, now you were on a high. Why should people do drugs when helping people was for free? “If you want, you can keep me updated on what you decide, but you don’t have to. My door’s always open if you need to talk to someone.” At the end of the conversation, the both of you are over the moon. Sebin leaves while dabbing her eyes with the back of her hand and you’re ecstatic that you actually got to help someone in their career development. At this rate, you’re sure she’ll still be working while going to school part-time, eventually becoming a teacher, or maybe not. She’s promised to see where things go and to take steps to make herself happier. And you couldn’t be happier yourself. Except, the next day, someone by the name of Jung Hoseok takes a big fat dump on your bliss. “You called me?” You pop your head through the door and he motions you in. You’re forced to awkwardly shuffle, moving to stand in front of his desk like you’re an elementary student about to be scolded by the principal. “Explain this to me.” He throws a letter onto his desk and he glares at you hard enough to set your skin aflame. “Sebin just handed me her two weeks notice.” Oh shit. Turns out she won’t be working and going to school at the same time. Maybe it’s better that she fully focuses on achieving her goal. It’s a good decision either way. But you don’t tell Hoseok any of your thoughts. Instead, you manage a skeptical expression. “And you called me because…?” “Because she came in here talking about being stuck and her dreams and needing to take charge of her life. I was thinking about who could’ve fed her all this nonsense and I realized that it could only be you.” There’s a murderous look in his eye and you begin to break a sweat. If Hoseok didn’t hate you before, now he definitely did. You scramble to reply, “That...that’s a big assumption. Aren’t lawyers supposed to avoid assumptions?” “Do you realize that in this busy season, we cannot afford to lose an important member of staff?” “Yes.” “Do you know how much work it will take to hire another paralegal that will fulfill the correct requirements and fit the needs of this office?” “Yes,” you mutter before adding on, “but isn’t it my job to find someone suitable?” Jung Hoseok is not amused and from the way he glares at you dead in the eyes and his hands are clasped, it makes you ponder if this is what Satan looks like in hell. “Did she or did she not visit you in the past few days?” “She did.” “And what did you talk about?” “That is confidential material.” “I am your boss and it is your job to tell me,” he demands and your life flashes before your eyes. You wonder if this is the end, if he’ll toss his sharp scissors at your exposed neck and the rest of the lawyers will end up hiding your corpse and burning it in some forest. They’d get away with it too, considering they’re the top lawyers in the industry. Oh god. How would your mom even react if your death became an unsolved mystery? “Either way, you would’ve had to fill out a report, correct? I could always read it.” “Sometimes reports are not necessary to fill out,” you mumble while scratching your hair and downcasting your head. The lawyer seated across from you persists without missing a single beat. “Did you or did you not speak to Sebin about her professional goals?” “Perhaps.” “Did you at any point suggest that she should quit if she is feeling unhappy?” You’ve watched enough law television shows to know how to respond. It might be ridiculous, but you don’t care. “I refuse to respond on the grounds that it may incriminate me.” Hoseok’s frown deepens, but the corner of his mouth twitches. You’re not sure if he’s become slightly amused or absolutely furious with you. “Are you….are you pleading the fifth?” He asks it like he can’t believe his own ears. You cringe in your spot, avoiding his glare. “Yes.” “This is not an interrogation.” “Then what am I doing here?” The male is brought to a loss for words, so he simply scoffs. He pinches the bridge of his nose and waves you away with his other hand. “Get out of here before I toss my mug at you.” “That’s a threat and verbally abusive, also highly inappropriate.” Despite your words, your legs bolt upwards and you’re on your toes again, collecting yourself as you slowly back away from his desk. “Just letting you know as HR.” “You’re testing me,” he chimes and returns back to his work. “Alright...goodbye.” You run for your life and Hoseok lifts his chin, staring at the space where you just occupied. The corner of his tilt mouth again and he lets out a hopeless puff of air through his parted lips before it stretches into the smallest of smiles. // If life at the office could be charted, it would be one of the craziest graphs you would need to draw. The line would currently dip and rise, like the drop and incline of a rollercoaster with no stops. Often times when you’re having the time of your life, it plummets to the bottom. And when you’re having the worst time, things improve so drastically, you remember why you wanted this job in the first place. At the moment, it feels like things were at a standstill, half between the rise and fall of good and bad. While the employees of the firm aren’t exactly friendly with you anymore, they aren’t hostile or passive aggressive either. Sure, you’re almost certain Hoseok hates your guts and probably wants to throw you out of his window, Jimin has been nothing but understanding and kind. Things are okay. But it’s about to be a new low for you. “Are you the one who fired my girlfriend?!” “Pardon?” You frown in confusion, forced to a halt in front of the office building as the car pulls up on the curb. An unfamiliar man has his head popped out of the window, half his body hanging out as he angrily screams the question at you. It’s only nine a.m. in the morning and your mind is still numb without coffee. “Are you the fucking HR bitch that fired my girlfriend?!” He repeats, shouting so loudly that it hurts your ears. What you don’t notice is who is sitting in the driver seat and the familiar lawyer that is walking down the street, noticing the commotion going on. It happens too quickly. The driver of the car moves the man out of the way to see out the window. You recognize the ex-receptionist immediately and she wastes no time to point an accusatory finger at you. Kei frowns and shrieks, “That’s her!” The man in the passenger seat brings up a bucket from in-between his feet and then there’s a sudden stream that glistens in the morning sunshine. There is the sound of sloshing that follows. The beads glimmer against the light like stars and then it falls like a tsunami. You’re doused in cold water. It shocks your system, hair drenched and clothes dripping, doused from head to toe. There are gasps that surround you, people passing by that move out of the way to not get wet. The man shouts, “Drive, drive!” And then tires screech on pavement as it pulls off and zips down the road. Hoseok runs over towards you and pulls out his phone, swiftly snapping a shot of the license plate before the car is too far gone. If you thought he was furious before, now he was completely livid. “What the fuck!” His hands curl around your shoulders, firm yet still gentle, and he doesn’t notice when you flinch from his touch. “Are you okay??! Y/N?!” The man searches your face before he locks his eyes with yours. “I...I’m fine.” You’re violently shivering, still shocked by the sudden change of temperature and also humiliated by people’s stares. “It’s just water, I’m fine. It’ll dry off.” He doesn’t wait and takes off his suit jacket, draping it over you as if it could warm you up and shield you away from stranger’s gazes. The security guard of the building runs out while catching his breath and Hoseok casts one mere glance at him. “Give me the footage of that security camera.” “You got it,” he responds and goes off again. “Hoseok.” “Do you have a change of clothes with you? Actually no, go home,” he says it quickly, nearly getting whiplash at how fast he turns to look at you again. You can’t imagine taking the subway in this state and he must read your expression well with the next question he asks. “Did you drive here or do you need me to drive you home? Wait, no, we need to file a police report as soon as possible. Okay, let me drive you home to change and then we can head to the police station and file a police report.” “Wait…” “We can get a restraining order by noon. See if we can press charges on grounds of harassment and assault and verbal abuse. From now on, I’m your attorney, understand?” “Listen to me,” you say as calmly as possible whilst gazing into his eyes. “I don’t want to press charges or file a police report. I’m fine.” His jaw clenches and the knit between his brows deepen. “No. You do not get to argue with me on this.” “It was water. You’re making a big deal out of nothing.” You just want to go away from the prying eyes and pitiful stares. “I’ll dry off. And she was just upset, she lost her job.” “That does not justify her actions. Why do you let this happen to you?! Are you really okay with it?!” Hoseok’s composure is completely lost and he steps away, running a frustrated hand through his hair. “Fine, you might not want to press charges, but I’m still going to get a restraining order for this office. I have a responsibility to protect my employees, do you understand? And you are my employee. No one is allowed to hurt you or put you in danger.” You’re caught in a trance, staring into his brown irises that seems to catch light in all the right places. Eventually, you’re pulled back to attention when Sunyi comes rushing over, asking what happened. Miraculously, the lawyer has a change of clothing since she was planning to switch to more formal attire to meet an important client at two. She’s happy to let you borrow her clothes. The ride up to the floor is uncomfortable and smothering. Everyone in the office stops to gawk, baffled out of their minds at the sight of you, considering you look like you went showering in your attire. But no one whispers or murmurs since Hoseok stomps into Jimin’s office and the door slams shut, hard enough to cause the hinges to break and the goddamn wall to crumble. You change and Seulgi makes a cup of hot coffee to warm you up. Even Lisa lingers in the kitchen and asks if you’re alright. Within the hour, Hoseok appears again, beelining from his partner’s office to yours. He seems much calmer now, vein no longer popping at his forehead, wrinkles no longer prominent and brows not furrowed. “I know you don’t want to press charges. Tell me if you change your mind, but the entire firm is getting a restraining order against both parties. She will not be allowed to be within five hundred meters of this office building.” There’s an extended silence. The lawyer nods, having nothing more to say and he turns to walk out. “Hoseok.” Your voice stops him. “Thank you.” “It’s a given,” he murmurs in an oddly softer tone and then turns so you can see the profile of his visage. The edge of his mouth lifts. “You’re my responsibility, you know....even if you are a headache.” You smile back at him and he leaves.

As usual, with the new low, comes a new high. And you can only hope naively that things stay this way forever. Rumours of what Kei did to you spread and they evolve to become wilder versions — ones where you threw yourself in front of Hoseok and protected him, or she had hired a hitman to harm people in the office, but you blocked the entrance and protected them. If anything, you’re amused over these stories. But more importantly, the employees of the firm become more pleasant towards you, like when you first joined and won their trust. Maybe they turned a new leaf because they finally realized your job wasn’t as jolly and chummy as it seemed on the outside. Maybe they felt guilty since in the back of their minds, they knew you were being shunned. Maybe their kindness derives from pity. Whatever the case may be, you don’t mind. The others are surprised at how Sebin is close to you. She chooses to sit beside you during lunchtime in the break room and chatters on happily. She even tells you how she got accepted into the first post-secondary institution of her choosing and Hoseok wrote her one of the best recommendation letters that brought her to tears; it turns out the lawyer isn’t angry that she isn’t staying. Before the paralegal leaves, everyone celebrates with cake in the conference room, bidding her goodbye and telling her to visit. You’re sad that one of your best friends have left, but it doesn’t last too long when Seulgi invites you out to lunch one afternoon and the two of you have a fun chat. Even Sunyi has returned to your office every other day to do her regular complaints about Yoongi. Things are good. For the most part. “Good morning.” “Morning.” The elevator doors shut and the tension between you two and the small space is enough to suffocate you. You should’ve known he was close behind you and maybe you would’ve waited for another elevator or took the stairs. Sure, you probably would’ve ended up sticky with sweat, but it would be better than standing alone next to Jung Hoseok. All you do is focus on the rising numbers flashing over the doors…. Until there’s a large ‘clack’, the floor jolting and causing you to grip the side bars. The overhead lights flash for a moment. The bulbs die off, engulfing you in darkness before flickering back on. “That doesn’t sound good,” you mutter underneath your breath and Hoseok moves to spam the elevator buttons. They don’t light up. The elevator doesn’t move. The numbers stay the same. He curses and hits the ‘call for help’ button. “Not again.” He fishes out his phone and speed dials Jimin. At the same time, the intercom flares to life and he doesn’t wait for them. “We’re stuck in elevator two between floors seven and eight.” The woman on the other side remains impassive. “We’re on our way.” Jimin doesn’t pick up and he hangs up with a sigh. Wonderful. As if being in the same elevator with just Hoseok wasn’t painful enough, now you were trapped with him. Trapped. For god knows how long. “Does….” You attempt to break the silence and you finally shift to look at him. “Does this happen often?” “Often enough for it not to be surprising,” Hoseok mutters and sits on the ground. You decide to follow his lead, moving to lean up against the corner of the elevator with your legs out in front of you. There’s a moment of quiet before the lawyer speaks, “The last time this damn elevator did this, it was stuck for four hours.” He pauses and looks at you, smooth timbre quieting, “We should designate a peeing corner. My bladder is beginning to hurt.” Your eyes are full of horror. “Wh-what?” “I’m kidding!” He laughs at your expression. The sound of his laughter is tinkling, foreign to your ears. It’s as if sunshine itself is emitting from his mouth. “In what world would I actually piss in the corner of an elevator? And we’ll probably get out here in ten minutes.” “Oh.” It was a joke. Hoseok’s little chuckles fade off and he looks at you with a smile. “Lighten up, you always act like I’m going to bite your head off.” “Aren’t you?” Underneath your placid exterior, you’re shaken from his lightheartedness and teasing. At the moment, you’re not too sure who’s sitting next to you and if this is the same man who rules the office with an iron fist. But you know this is also a part of him he doesn’t show in the firm — though it painfully reminds you of something long ago. “That would get me arrested and trust me, you don’t want to see prison version of Hoseok.” You grin at how he refers to himself in third person. “What’s prison version of Hoseok?” “Someone who tries to escape and fails and ends up crying pathetically on a cold prison floor with a tramp stamp tattoo of a red butterfly,” he drones on and ends up sounding completely done with his life. You can’t help the giggles that bubble up your throat and he smiles, able to make both your predicaments better. The elevator suddenly creaks, sounding like nuts and bolts tumbling and you quirk your head to one side, grabbing the bar by your head tighter. “The elevator won’t suddenly fall, right? We won’t die, right?” “Don’t worry. If we do, the building will be liable for our deaths and Jimin will sue them.” “Great to know I’ll have a chunk of money in my coffin,” you deadpan and this time, he’s the one laughing. You watch the way his mouth draws up slightly into a heart shape when he’s grinning and how his eyes crinkle softly. The words spill before you can stop them. “Do you really not remember?” His laughs slowly fade away, the last of them streaming from his chest before he looks over at you, tilting his chin towards you, lips together but still pulled into a smile. “Remember what?” You stare at him for a moment before tearing your eyes to the closed silver doors. “Never mind.” “No.” He won’t take no for an answer, not when his irises are sparkling with both mischief and curiosity. “What is it?” “Nothing.” You shrug. “There’s no point if you don’t remember. It was like twelve years ago.” “What? Did you do me wrong and now I don’t remember?” “Not telling.” “Tell,” he demands childishly and leans over like he’s going to crawl closer to you. You’d rather climb up the elevator shaft like Spiderman and end up dying because you’re not Spiderman than to have him close the already small distance between the two of you. “Okay fine!” Luckily, he stops moving and you swallow hard. “I freeloaded off a group project with you.” You watch his reaction. “If you didn’t notice on my résumé, we went to the same university. But actually, we were also in the same finance class in our second year together. It was a long time ago.” “That’s it?” An endeared expression appears on his features. “That’s what you were so worried about?” “Of course, I’m worried! I freeloaded off of you! We were supposed to meet at a library, but I was in a board game club and I ditched you because I was winning at Monopoly.” As if it helps, you add on, “Which I ended up winning, by the way.” “Really?” The little shit is grinning, finding your story all the too amusing, from how you were in a board game club to how you actually knew each other and not just by name. “We failed.” “Well, that’s not too bad.” He muses, “Thought there was something deeper or more important.” “It was forty percent of our grade,” you counter. There’s a bit of a pause and then he shrugs. “.....I still made it as a lawyer and you made it as an HR member.” Since all of this is out and the open, you figure you might as well spill all the beans. “And you may or may not have asked me out to a coffee date, but I rejected you.” A part of you almost hopes that he’ll remember. Except, he doesn’t. “Okay, now I’m just hurt.” He puts a hand over his chest where his heart should be, an over dramatic reaction and he gasps. “How could you?” You laugh and he smiles at the sound, arm dropping into his lap. “Sounded like we were friends back then.” “Acquaintances,” you correct. “Well, the past is the past and it’s not like I can even remember, so you can stop tiptoeing around me.” “I’m not tiptoeing!” You defend, despite it being a complete lie. For the first time, you actually feel at ease being in Hoseok’s presence, like the weight of the past is no longer on your shoulders. It’s nice to talk to him like this, like the both of you are adults with no baggage or resentments. “Yeah, you are.” His eyebrow is cocked. “I know the rest of them are scared of me, but they have reason to be. You don’t. You haven’t fucked up yet.” You’re surprised. “I haven’t?” “Annoying if anything, but no, you haven’t really.” “I’m glad.” You smile to yourself, fiddling with your fingers and looking in your lap. There’s another thought that comes into your mind, but you wonder if you would be overstepping your boundaries. Still, you can’t imagine a better time than now. Your voice is a soft whisper when you speak, full of hesitancy, “Was your accident that bad that you can’t remember anything?” “Hey!” He scoffs in offence. “I remember everything. Just not the small details like acquaintances and stuff. But yeah, I hit a lamp post on the highway and ended up in the hospital for a year of recovery. It was rough.” “I’m sorry.” “It’s fine. It actually worked out in the end since Jimin came to me and told me he had plans of opening a law firm one day and wanted me as a partner. That helped me get off my ass and I finished my third year of law school, did a year of articling for another divorce firm, and then Jimin and I started this place.” “That’s really amazing.” The words spill out in awe. “A lot of sleepless nights.” “But you made it.” “Sure did.” He turns to gaze at you. “You did too.” “Yeah…” The ten-minute estimate turns into twenty and with enough of Hoseok yelling over the intercom for what’s taking so long, you both eventually get freed from the elevator. The paralegals end up crowding you after, asking if being trapped with Hoseok for that long was as horrible as it seemed and if you wanted to hit your head on the walls and die, but you only shrug and keep your responses positive. In reality, you enjoyed talking to him a lot. You missed it. Hoseok disappears for the rest of the day for court proceedings, Yoongi and Taehyung following him and giving him a headache with their bickering. It’s almost as if the conversation and reconnection never happened and you’re a bit disappointed, but then the next day, you have him knocking on your door. “Is there something wrong?” “No.” He plops down his second coffee on your desk and takes a sip with the one in his right hand. You stare at the cup, not sure what he wants you to do with it or if he’s putting it down temporarily. “It’s yours.” You hold it, looking up at him. “Mine?” “It’s my offering of our truce.” Truce. Hoseok ends up leaving without looking at you and your bright smile. In your life, you’ve never had such delicious coffee before.

#Bts fanfic #bts scenario #bts fluff #hoseok fluff #hoseok fanfic #BTS JUNG HOSEOK AS.....an asshole??? OR IS HE??//#OC who's past is shady as allll hellll

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gxccistyless · 7 years

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Kiwi || Part Four

Hello my lovelies, sorry for the delay, i’m in the final weeks of my first trimester back at uni for the year and so assessments and exams have left me little time for writing. I’m so happy to be back writing, i hope you enjoy this one too. Please don’t be too mad, it’s a bit of a bore this one.. THE NEXT ONE WILL BE GOOD I PROMISE. ALL. THE. DRAMA.

And here, if you haven’t already you can read PART ONE || PART TWO || PART THREE||

Three weeks. It had been three weeks since that day at Anne’s and apart from him confirming your pregnancy you hadn’t heard from him. Total radio silence. Your patience was wearing thin, not that you had great patience to begin with but pregnancy hormones had managed to deplete what little patience you had left, and now Harry keeping his distance when he said he’d be in touch was pushing you over the edge.

Gemma could sense the lack of patience in you, and so to keep you from driving yourself crazy three days ago she took it upon herself to pack a bag full of clothes and move into your very small apartment with you and camp on your couch. You would have offered her half of your bed, but with the bump growing by the day and the big ass maternity pillow that was a requirement in order for you to get any form of sleep, the couch would have to suffice. It was fun having Gemma around, she took it upon herself to enrol you both in some pregnancy classes, today had been pregnancy pilates. She insisted on joining you, donning her best lycra clothes. She looked odd with her slim frame standing in a room full of heavily pregnant woman, but her confidence didn’t fail her. To be honest, you loved having her around.. She was quite the good distraction. When the two of you finish up, you walk home making a quick pit stop to the bakery down the road on your way to grab a pretzel. The bakery down the road had a great range of pretzels handmade by a sweet little old German lady. You had tried the whole menu at least twice over during the last three weeks, but today you gave all the weird and wonderful flavourings a miss choosing to go with the plain salted one you’d grown to crave.

His name was trending on twitter when you had woken up. Although you wanted to know so badly why, you instead put down your phone adamant to not ruin the day that Gemma and Anne had planned. You were sitting in Gemma’s car as the two of you headed to Holmes Chapel. You sighed and put your phone back into the side console before placing your palm over your face. “Your brother is trending...”ˆ ˆYou turn to look at Gemma trying to read any change in her facial expression but she just keeps her eyes on the road. “Is he? I didn’t know... What’s he done this time?” She was either sparing your feelings or truly hadn’t opened twitter this morning, you couldn’t tell. But today you were thankful... Thankful that you couldn’t read her face, and truth be told, so was she.

Harry had been in contact with Anne when he arrived back in the UK, you’d known this only because Anne had cried for two hours straight afterward. She had been so upset with him when he confirmed the pregnancy without even telling you that she had rang and rang him getting voicemail after voicemail until he finally answered. He hadn’t of even bothered to ask how his mother was, he was a little bit drunk and still very angry, Anne had thought that time in the US would help him to cool off, but it had only seemed to make him angrier. He slurred his words and cussed at her more than he had in his entire life and then proceeded to hang up on her .. “What is he doing to himself” She cried hysterically whilst Robin had hugged her. Truth be told later that night you had wondered the same. You could understand him being angry at you, you had kept this from him, you had neglected to tell him, but Anne.. well that you couldn’t understand. She had been the only consistent woman in his life, how could he dismiss her and destroy her so easily? If this was the way that he was treating his own mother, how easy would it be for him to do the same to you. This scared you... Suddenly you didn’t want to see him anymore, the thought of him being drunk and coming anywhere near you whilst so angry scared you. Right in that moment any thoughts you had of trying to make contact with him before he was ready to dissipated. You had more at stake now than just your own feelings, you needed less stress, to look after yourself and your unborn child.

You and Gemma both stayed fairly quiet the rest of the trip, when you pulled into the driveway Robin had already been outside. He was quick to help you out of the car, giving you a hug. When you entered the house Anne was in the kitchen. She looked a lot better than she had the last time you had seen her. Today she was smiling, not that fake comfort smile that people do when eveything is going to shit but they really want you to think things are going to be okay... No today she was genuinely smiling from ear to ear. The house smelt of fresh scones and vanilla mixed with Sunday Roast, Gemma was here, you were here and she had the chance to cook for you all... Anne was in her Element. You’d seen her this way many times before when you and Harry were together and would travel here for the weekend. She loved to cook, she loved to bake, but with Gemma and Harry gone it was no fun doing it just for Robin and herself. You remember how happy she had been the first time you met her on your very first trip here, you remember sitting on the back porch with her watching Harry and Robin mow the lawn... you remember her telling you that everyone coming home made her so happy. Today for a moment you briefly saw that same smile, and that made you happy. You know that somewhere hidden behind that smile there too was a little pain, she loves her son, she misses her son, she needs her son home.

Just under an hour later, after you help Gemma set the table, you all sit down for lunch. Robin comments on how much bump has grow and Anne swats at him whilst you laugh, promising that you took no offence to the comment. You’ve recently felt the baby start to move more and more, and so you’re well aware that bump is getting bigger as baby is too. “I swear it kicks sometimes and i feel like my skin is going to tear open” Gemma cringes at the thought. Anne smiles, nodding her head in agreement. “Yes it can be a bit like that when i was pregnant with Har-” She hadn’t realised what she was about to say and so she stops herself from finishing the sentence. You reach out your hand nodding at her... “Finish your sentence, please Anne... I love hearing your stories.. it’s okay for you to talk about him, it’s fine, honestly.” She looks straight at you, you can tell she’s chocked up now. “Well i... uh... when i was pregnant with Harry, he used to kick non-stop.. Could have sworn he was going to come out the womb a blackbelt...” You all let out a little laugh and everything goes silent. “I hate what he’s doing to you” She was chocked up before but until now you hadn’t realised she was actually crying. She drops her head into her hands and lets out a few sobs before Robin reaches his arm around her shoulder rubbing her back with his fingers... “This isn’t your fault Anne, it’s no ones fault. Everything has happened, we can’t change it, this baby is coming, and well as for Harry, he has a choice to make and no matter what choice it is, we all have to support his decision, even if that means he chooses to walk away”

You had tried really hard to not think about him walking away, because the thought alone made you sick. The thought of him choosing to not be a part of this baby’s life even after you had tried to keep it from him made you feel sick. You had realised how stupid and foolish you had been in the beginning, keeping Harry from his baby was a dumb thing to do. When you first made the decision you had no intention of anyone in Harrys family finding out, let alone Harry. But when Gemma and Anne found out you had somewhat hoped that somewhere down the line he would find out and he would be hands on. So this whole situation was not how you had planned things to go at all, at least not in your head. With his heart still undecided, and this baby’s due date fast approaching you had tried to focus more on the baby rather than Harry, but being here with his family you’re now brought into the stark reality that in a few months time you could potentially be raising a child on your own.

You hadn’t realised, but now you were crying too.”You know, no matter what he chooses love, we’re still here for you and the baby...” This made you cry harder. If Harry chooses to move on with his life, minus the baby, how could you possibly bring the baby around to his family? You loved them... You really and truly loved them. But you know deep down that if he chooses to walk away, you can’t stand in the way of him and his family. “What if he chooses to stay away forever... I can’t come between all of you” Gemma hadn’t thought of this till now, she hadn’t thought about the prospect of not being a part of her niece or nephews life because she truly didn’t want things to be any other way. She speaks now sternly and adamantly “I will not let HIM decide for ME if i get to see this baby, I’ll support his decision, but he’ll have to understand that we’re adults too and just like him we have a right to make a decision too.” You’re speechless. You had known how you felt for her was more as a sister than as a friend, but you never realised that she’d jeopardise her relationship with her brother for your baby. “Harry is being an idiot right now, and one day he’ll see it... I don’t know how long it will take but believe me he will, i know him... But i’ll be dammed if i’m going to let him ruin this for everyone else just because his feelings are hurt and his ego is too big” Robin gets up to grab the box of tissues. “Now lets stop crying and feeling sorry for ourselves and enjoy this fabulous roast” And that’s exactly what you all did, you enjoyed the rest of your day with not one more mention of Harry

On Sunday morning with a relaxing weekend in Holmes Chapel over, Gemma drove the two of you back to London, dropping you back to your apartment before leaving to run a few errands. You ran yourself a bath using some essential oils that Gemma had made you promise to try, the bath was quite relaxing and frankly you were ready for bed. But just as you had changed into your comfiest of clothes and were about to tuck yourself in there was a knock at your front door. You rolled your eyes anticipating that Gemma had forgotten the spare key you had given her. As you walked toward the door and start to swing it open you begin to playfully tell her off “I thought i already told you that you need-” It’s not Gemma when you open the door. It’s someone you hadn’t expected at all. He’s half stooped over, and he reeks of a deadly mixture of scotch and vodka, the whites of his green eyes are red and his cheeks are damp, you’re sure he’s been crying, but you’re also sure he’s drunk. “Oh Harry, what are you doing to yourself?”

To Be Continued....

#Harry Styles #harry styles fanfic #harry styles imagine #harry styles oneshot #harry styles kiwi #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles imagines

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xladymalice · 7 years

Note

Guys, respect is a two way street. If an artist shares their art with you with the only rule being "please do not use/repost/etc" those are pretty simple requests. Ones that you really don't have to do anything extra to RESPECT. The artist doesn't have to share with you, doesn't have to produce for you. They do things because they enjoy it and they want to. Just like with musical artists. When you pirate their music, you hurt them, some of them have to stop creating because they can't keep 1/2

Last big talk about Art Theft and “Minor/Hater/Whatever thiefs stuff”

I’d say most of them are minor thought. They’ve never learned about copyright nor the idea of creative property.

Take a good look at the reasoning of my follower and friend. This explains everything I tried to explain in the previous posts but it seems that many still don’t understand it.

It’s not hard. It’s easy.

Here have an example:

Imagine I tell you to show me your money.

Since you’re a good guy, you show me your money because you want to share your happiness. (You are happy to have some money).But I take away the money, because you SHOWED it to me. Why? It’s not your anymore, right? I can take it. You showed it, so it’s mine.

The idea of money isn’t yours right? You didn’t create money, but you decided to make money. Also, you decided to show me that money you made (by work, got gifted etc). That money is because of that mine. It’s not yours.

Now I have money. We all know, people with money are fame. So I take money of others and become famous.

Do you see the reasoning that happened all the time? It’s absolute bullshit.

You take away other’s goods because you are pathetic. There is no good intention, if you hurt the artist with that. It’s so much worse because you disrepect this artist (clamin

I am explicitly talking about repost or other use of art/stories/whatever WITHOUT PERMISSION of the RIGHTFUL OWNER.

More stuff below.

So. I am thankful for everyone who supports me and understands me. It’s not like I am desperately trying to get attention, on contrary. I am just stating my point of view and refuse to accept the dump reasoning of some people here in tumblr.

I faced so many posts where artists suffer because of art thefts. People who repost and even SELL their art. (sometimes even stories of writers get reposts or rewritten and claimed as theirs. It’s awful).

Why would I stay quiet about this fact? People will never learn if they don’t face this. And a single person cannot do much, but if we fight together, we might change some things and make the world a better place. Little by little.

Honestly, I am amazed that my first “haters” are actually about my statement and view of Art Theft. I was positive, it would be about my personality or art: no, it’s about this hot topic that shouldn’t be even a problem.

I mean: I’ve never pointed out who exactly I was talking about, until the person srsly started a war with me. I tolerate a lot but there is a fucking line that one shouldn’t cross.

Don’t call yourself “a follower” who “loves me” but “cannot accept my opinion on art theft”. I didn’t say YOU are the thief. But if you feel like this post is directed at you, I would wonder about that if I was you.

So Mali seems aggressive and stressed. I will tell you why.

I’ve been in trouble for a while now. This considers RL. As you noticed, I’m having tons of job interviews because after studying Computer Science I found no good company to work for.

I am working part time, but this is no solution for the future. I decided that I will move back to my hometown near Hamburg. That’s why I am trying to find a good company there.

And I did. I have high hopes that the second interview will solve their decision and make them choose me.

This involves me moving and me having more work and less free time. This is not that bad, I can finally push away SOME of my sorrows and worries. Maybe I will draw even more with being less depressed and worried about life.

There are huge changes awaiting me and my future. (And I have troubles with my family too, but this is personal stuff I don’t talk about.)

Usually tumblr is my little home with my friends. I don’t see the most of my followers as strangers but friends. That’s why I want you to call me Mali. We’re on the same level, ok? I am no better than you and vice versa.

But it seems every time I leave the save ground and state my opinion people just don’t get the point or feel offended. Actually 2 came along and told me “I’m crying, I hope you’re happy!”

Sorry, but... why? Just because I tell you the truth? How old are you?

Back to the point: I’ve been stressed. My parttime job is sometimes a pain in the ass too. I want to have fun... reading negative stuff like I’ve been facing the last days were really draining my mood.

That’s why I didn’t put of the nice mask, but answered straight foward and aggressive.

Sure, I am not always in the right. But why would I hide my true thoughts about a topic like this one? Especially by the use of my own stuff.

Luckily, I am not alone with this. That’s why I want to thank all of you who understood me and know what I was trying to do, even by being “the bad” or “the jerk”.

Anon*takes everything and purrs* I tried tot ake breaks, especially with my sickness. I am finally getting better and recovering. Also... life’s not that bad at the moment. Just annoying peepz D: Aah, a blue flower

@skeletalegastertalevoidtaleThis is sympathy. You feel, what I feel. You understand it. They don’t. They are probably kids with their own issues and attention deseases meanly said. If they understood the work and the time we invest into projects like these, they wouldn’t just abuse it. This is the idea of creative property. Swapfell Dawn is my story. My interpretation of the original idea of the term “Swapfell”. Toby Fox created Undertale, but he enhanced the possibility of creating AUs. There were many people before me who did this. So I don’t get the point for this being even an argument against me?

Look at my “money” example. That’s the same reasoning.

AnonThank you for understanding. But thank you even more for stating that I am doing good things too. I wanted to find friends and motivate others. I know how hard it is to motivate yourself to draw... to keep going... not to give up.I want to show that it’s possible to reach unbelievable heights as long as you fight and don’t give up! So I’m really happy for you!

AnonThat’s life. Nothing new to be honest. Everyone loves me as long as I keep quite and do not say my opinion out loud. Once I did, I am the bad guy.You know what? I’m fine with that. I like being bad anyways.

Anon:Aw, thanks for worrying. I accept the hug this time!

@adorable-lil-shitWonderful sarcasm there. -10/10

AnonThat lady is unfortunately not the only one. I met some of these bitches (sorry) and the most are minor. What’s even worse. They shouldn’t be on my fucking blog. The thing is, these people destroy my view of others. I am so frustrated with the russian fandom, that I don’t allow anyone to do anything with my art except I know them. And even that is too much. I don’t want to see my art somewhere else. It’s mine.I took my time to read some of the comments below my images and srsly, people don’t get the point. Why? Because they don’t get answers by ME. The dudes who upload my stuff have no idea... they are just dumb farts.

@dragoonmaster1212Thank you. But I am not that well at handling things like that. I do vent and I can vent alot about it. Somehow the steam needs to get out. You see, I had a very shit time at school being the number one dude to get bullied. I know how it’s like to shut up and just take whatever bullies give you. But I learned to stand up and stand my ground. No fucking kids will tell me what to do and take away what’s mine. Even if it means acting radical and punishing all. There are no easy ways to solve a serious topic like art theft.

AnonIt’s totally fine to go on Anon. I don’t want you to get in trouble just because I am not hiding myself. Totally fine. Thank you for saying this. I truly cherish people who say they respect me.

I treat people like I want to be treated. If they hurt this rule by hurting me, I will hurt them.

That’s how I work. Involving Toby Fox is a desperate attempt and trying to make me feel bad for their mistakes. They don’t know how to argue, so they use the idea of “Toby Fox has the copyright”.Yes, but Toby Fox has not the copyright of the story and design of Swapfell Dawn. They don’t get this obviously.

@flamefiendsYeah, sounds good to me. So you will offer yourself to me?

AnonYeah, absolute kids in my view. I am positive, they are not adults. Thank you for supporting me.

AnonThanks :) I am happy that I am not only the bad guy. But I am, I guess.

@babypizzawonderlandI won’t give up. These freaks won’t bloody win over me. I won’t shut up. If it’s annoying people, feel free to leave. This topic is a serious one. I won’t back down.

@buttergriffin332Yeah, that’s life again. But I won’t surrender. Thanks for staying with me.

@aussieevyWell, I lost my patience somewhere along the way too. I think these people think I am bad because I am telling them off like their moms did?Besides, I am trying to exlain shit.... and they still don’t get it. So I think they are stupid or kids. I don’t know any other reason why they don’t get it’s bad. (Ok, there are egoistic attention whores too, but ye... still kids).Thanks for saying that thought. I appreciate that.

@al-surfaceThank you, cookie Q.Q It’s hard not to get worked up. After all they attack my as a person in the end too. It seems hard to face the truth about thievery and what they do is wrong. They don’t worry about consequences... so many great people leave because of this bullshit. I won’t do that.

AnonYeah, totally my rage inside my mind there.That’s what I was thinking when I tried to talk some sanity into them. Helpless cases. I had to block the ones I know and move on. They don’t accept the fact it’s mine: even worse! They say my comics wouldn’t be that popular without them. YEAH OF COURSE; BITCH.

AnonThanks. I am happy that I am not the only one who thinks this. Glad to have you on my side. You get the point... so it can’t be that hard to understand right?

@loutoblogYeah... *sighs* Humanity’s stupidity is endless. It seems like it’s a crime to demand fairness and respect. It’s fun. They would cry and rage even louder, if I took their personal pictures and posted them on CumWhoreDotCom.Thanks, sweetie... it’s a bit hard, but I’m a fighter.

@fairytail78foreverI think you could say it’s jealousy. I think also attention whores who are mad they don’t get any likes. So they take away other’s goods and become fame. Low. Super low. I despise people like that.

Anon“Fans”. Yeah. Sadly. I will be bad in their eyes forever. Because I “hurt” them for being rude and selfish shits. Exactly. So I won’t just allow them to see my shit like that. There will be a fucking way to punish and I will find it. Until then I will be in war with them. But okay... I think argueing with idiots is truly an endless circle.

AnonI won’t do that. They know who they are, if they ever come to read this. I am not the type to make my friends attack others. Instead, I want everyone to state their opinion so others MIGHT LEARN from it.Thank you for your kind words. I just hope this will end anytime soon, so we all can enjoy the stuff we love the most!

Respect Artists. Be fair. Don’t be a rude, selfish fuck.

@angrywolflandThanks.... that’s what I hoped for.

AnonThis is a very good example. Take your time reading it. It explains why it’s wrong too. It’s just sadly funny how stupid people are.

@emilys-fandom-trashbinThat’s what I am saying all the time. But they ignore this fact? That it’s my property? That they cannot use it? I mean, I could take their money too. It’s not their property. Money is not their idea.Thank you for the compliments and your sympathy. This helps.

@pizzataleauPlease call me Mali. I am on the same level as you.That’s a nice offer, but I think it won’t help? These two are kids probably. They use Google Translator, misunderstand things because of the language barrier and blame me for being a “mean person”. Both of them are liars and selfish fucks. I hope karma will settle this for me. Thank you very much. Especially for worrying for me >///chuchuchuuuu*

@dearestdanger I know that the most understand... they are writers and artists themselves. It’s just weird how they try to justify their actions. If I would take away their stuff, they would cry the loudest.But they also cry, because I showed them, they did something bad. Geez, it’s so annoying.Thanks for the support! I won’t give up!

@silver-is-hereOhh, sweetheart. You’re sure doing the right things in the right time Q//QThanks... my day was okay. Work’s been hard and troubling, but I survived it. I will make myself some hot chocolate, get some cookies and play some league of legends. Or I will watch a movie... mmhmmm... I haven’t watched animes in ages... D:I love you too

AnonThank you... reading an ask like this makes me feel better a lot of times. I do worry about my other fans... how they will react to my personality and stuff. But... I don’t consider art thiefs as friends? Nor do I want them to be as my followers? I don’t need them? Since they harm me and my friends?Thank you :) That’s the way it should be. It’s my right, not theirs.

Some older asks considering the russian fandom:

I will as strong as possible. I don’t give up... I enjoy being here and sharing my stories and ideas. Some fucks won’t make me stop doing that. However, I will really stop publishing stuff, if they don’t back down. Last time they understood because of a friend. I hope this won’t be in vain.

Thanks @cinnamon4wolfy. I appreciate your worry and will take a good rest later

@pandorica101Yeah. That will be probably a hard topic for a while. People forgot how to respect... how to treat each other well. It’s sad. Thanks for being with me tho... I also hope it won’t repeat so much anymore.

To the rest of the Anons. Thank you for your support and worry. I was happy you wrote me because it helped me to stay determined.

My wrath is limitless.

And Thank you.... here is my request to all russian watchers:

If you see my or other people’s art reposted, please... just please... tell them not to do that. Especially on VK. I will stop uploading Swapfell Dawn, if anybody uploads and translates it there. Please spread a good message. Please tell them to visit the original websites for the pictures.... don’t spread hate, spread love and respect.

Last AnonYeah... thanks. I think it is annoying to reblog “do not repost” thing.... or just post so much vent and negativity....

I will not stop being myself, tho.

Deal with it.

#malivent #masterpost #art theft #signal #please show respect #be kind #famoussmuggler

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evvazi · 7 years

Text

First Drink

I’ve been wanting to write some Yata angst between S1 and MK for a while now, so here it is~

Pairing: Fushimi/Yata (hinted)

Word Count: 1,751

Summary: On his twentieth birthday, Yata realizes how alone he truly is.

AO3

By all accounts, it’s a normal day. The heat is blistering like any summer day, and Yata goes to work even though he’d rather stay in bed all day and do nothing. Everything is a drag and time passes incredibly slowly, but even that has become normal to him. One of his co-workers tries to talk to him, but Yata blows him off, claiming he’s tired and wants to go home. It’s true, of course, that’s his constant state of mind now.

When work is over, Yata goes straight home. He’s skating, but even that doesn’t bring the usual joy with it anymore, at best it’s a minor relief from the heat, at worst it’s exhausting because his legs feel like lead.

At home, there’s nothing to do and nobody waiting for him. He should cook, he knows that, but he ends up ordering takeout instead. Again. It’s not healthy, but it’s better than eating nothing at all, which is honestly what he feels like doing. The food doesn’t even taste like anything, Yata barely even realizes what it is he’s eating.

It doesn’t matter. Nothing matters.

He’s twenty today, a date he’s been looking forward to for years, but it’s just an ordinary day, just as terrible as all the other days. Nothing changed.

Nobody cares, either. Yata hasn’t gotten a single message from any of his friends yet. Last year, he’d have been absolutely sure everybody was planning a surprise party for him and he’d just have to go to the bar and all his friends would be there, waiting to celebrate with him.

This year, he knows better than to even hope. Kusanagi is still in Germany, Kamamoto is visiting his parents and Anna is with him, and most everyone else barely shows up at the bar anymore. He tries not to think about why Mikoto and Totsuka aren’t there.

He’s failing, hard, pictures of dead eyes and a sword dissipating into nothing flooding his mind against his will, when finally, his watch beeps. It’s a message from Akagi, and Yata opens it, grateful for the distraction.

Hey, I’m sorry this is so late, but I’ve been super busy. Happy birthday! Hope you had a better day than me :)

It’s not much, it’s barely anything at all, but it’s enough to kickstart whatever’s left of Yata’s engines. He jumps up, grabs his skateboard, and heads to the bar. It’s not like he’s expecting anything to be there, but it’s better than his stuffy apartment by far. As much as Bar Homra brings up bad memories, it still feels a lot more like home than any other place. At least it reminds him that he wasn’t always alone.

As expected, the bar is quiet and completely empty, Yata has to unlock the door himself. He always has the key with him, he’s the one coming there most often now, so it only makes sense, though Anna and Kamamoto have one each too.

Nostalgia wells up in Yata as soon as he enters, the bar dead and empty but full of memories. It’s liberating, calming and oppressive all at once.

He can almost hear his friends shouting ‘Happy Birthday’ and popping dumb party crackers at him, like they did the last few years. Maybe he shouldn’t have gotten used to it. Maybe he’s just destined to always be left alone, no matter what he does or how much he believes he’s finally found his place to belong.

In the end, everyone leaves.

His mom has a new, better family now. Fushimi is with the Blues and his creepy King. His ‘friends’ from middle school never liked him in the first place. And even to Homra, the group of people he had dedicated the past few years to, he wasn’t important enough for them to stay.

Of course not. He’s annoying, stupid and weak. Pathetically clinging to the past while everyone else is moving on. Yata wouldn’t stay around for himself either.

As his gaze drifts through the bar, it lands on the alcohol behind the counter, perfectly sorted as ever and strictly out of his reach. He’s twenty now, though. Legally, he can have a drink. When the others turned twenty, Kusanagi always personally made them their first drink, and everyone was cheering them on as they downed their first glass.

Kusanagi isn’t here, but Yata can still continue that tradition all by himself. It’s what he’s doing with all of Homra’s traditions lately.

So Yata moves behind the counter, examining all the various bottles of liquid. He doesn’t really know anything about alcohol at all, and most of them only have foreign brand names on them, but he knows about percentages and chooses one that has a low amount of alcohol in comparison. There’s no need to get drunk if he’s not partying, after all.

He takes a glass, pours the light brown liquid in and gulps. This is it. He’s gonna become an adult now, right here, all alone. It would be funny, if he didn’t feel like crying.

Before the burn in his eyes can get worse, he downs half the glass in one go, making his throat burn instead. He doesn’t even cough though, and for a moment he’s proud of himself, but then there’s nobody around to witness it, so really, even if he coughed, nothing would have changed.

His watch beeps again, this time more urgently. A call. From his mother, the caller ID says. Yata gulps. He watches it ring. Eventually, it stops.

Yata doesn’t talk to his mom anymore. He texts her to let her know he’s still alive, but he never takes her calls. She knows him too well, she would be able to tell instantly that something was wrong, and Yata doesn’t want to talk to her about it. Doesn’t want to explain what happened and acknowledge it as the final truth.

It’s over.

Simple, really, but Yata isn’t done running from it yet. He dumps the rest of his drink into the sink and places the glass next to it without cleaning it up – he can do that tomorrow, or the day after, nobody will notice – and then he’s out the door again.

He locks it, because he knows Kusanagi will kill him if something happens to his bar while he’s away.

A sudden bout of anger surges through Yata at the thought, and he has to use all his willpower to keep himself from punching a hole into the door. Stupid Kusanagi would come back for his shitty bar, but Yata’s obviously not important enough for that.

Instead, he directs his anger into his legs, pushing his skateboard as fast it can go, recklessly driving on the street because he doesn’t have the patience to steer around any pedestrians, even though there’s not many out at this time of day anyway, it’s gotten late without Yata really noticing. If a car hits him, well, so be it. Nobody would care, not even Yata himself. It makes no difference.

Just as he’s back in the street of his apartment, the familiar blue of Scepter 4’s uniform catches his eye, and he reels to a halt.

Saruhiko.

For a tiny moment, Yata can feel hope flutter in his chest, an old promise resounding in his hears.

“Here,” Fushimi said, throwing a bottle of soda into Yata’s lap. Normally, Yata would have protested, saying he could pay for his own drinks (even though he always had to sacrifice something else for it, while Fushimi had practically endless amounts of money), but it was his birthday, he could hardly complain about being treated today.

“This better not be your only present,” he answered instead and Fushimi rolled his eyes at him.

“Don’t be conceited,” he reprimanded, but as he plopped down next to Yata, he added a quiet “it’s not.”

Yata laughed and they drank their sodas together in silence until Yata spoke up again. “But, y’know, sodas are actually seriously uncool.” It only got him a raised eyebrow from Fushimi, but he continued on anyways. “Like, what’s the point of a festive drink if it’s not alcoholic?”

Fushimi snorted. “You’re literally fourteen, Misaki. Wait six years, and maybe your body will have grown big enough to accommodate at least a small amount of alcohol.”

“Hey,” Yata protested, “I’m gonna hit a growth spurt soon, you’ll see! You’re just jealous because you’re younger than me, so you won’t be able to drink with me even when I turn twenty!”

“Don’t worry, I’ll gladly stay sober and record you when you get shitfaced from a single beer.”

“I can totally handle it, you’ll see!” Even as they drifted back to their usual bickering, Yata hadn’t failed to pick up on the hidden meaning. “Hey, when I turn twenty… you’ll definitely be there, right? Watch me have my first drink and not get totally shit-faced from it, and I’ll be there a few months later for your birthday and we can drink together.”

Fushimi clicked his tongue and looked away, but he grumbled “Obviously,” and that was enough for Yata.

“It’s a promise, then!”

“Oooh, you’re not with your hoodlum friends today, Mi~ sa~ ki~?”

Just one sentence, and all of his hope is shattered. That’s an old wound though. He’s used to it. Fushimi wasn’t there for his last birthday either. He’s a traitor. Loyal to that asshole of a Blue King.

It’s not fine, Yata’s not over it, but he just can’t bring himself to care anymore. What does it matter? It’s just one betrayal in a line of many, one broken promise buried under the shards of too many others.

“Stuff it, monkey,” he says, emotionless, “I don’t have time for your gloating. If you got nothing new to say, leave me alone.”

There’s silence, and Fushimi actually looks taken aback a bit, but he catches himself soon enough. Yata waits, to see if Fushimi actually has a reason to be here, if he does care about their promise in the end. Yata would’ve taken it, even if just for today, because he’s just that desperate.

But nothing comes, nothing ever breaks the cycle, and eventually Yata just skates past him and goes home. His apartment is just as he left it, dark, empty and stuffy. He flops on the bed without even changing his clothes, in the hopes that this terrible day is finally over.

Tomorrow won’t be better, but maybe Yata will be less aware of it then.

#yata misaki #k project #my fanfiction #angst #I'm sorry #I literally made myself cry with this #I'm such a loser #sarumi #fushimi saruhiko

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thesunislove · 6 years

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this post ended up being a lot longer than i was expecting. i guess i’m more pissed off than i realized

oh my GOD how fucking dare you. it’s not anyone’s job to fix you or save you. grow the fuck up and take responsibility for your actions. i’m so sick of everyone falling for your wounded puppy act. you chose to do this to yourself, you’re still choosing to do this to yourself. i’m in awe at how fucking rude you were to me. you asked me for advice, and i gave it. sorry i didn’t tell the princess what she wanted to hear, but don’t for a second pretend that you don’t enjoy being paraded around the music building like some god damn prodigy. you had NINE MONTHS to learn an opera role. yes, it’s a big one, but this is your CAREER. get used to it. you’re not going to get any sympathy from me. when i got my role, i learned it over the summer, because that’s what adults do.

“well SOME OF US have anxiety, it’s not always easy to function every day” BULL FUCKING SHIT. i know firsthand how debilitating mental illness can be. i have a fucking trifecta of major depressive disorder, generalized anxiety, and PTSD. but you know what? life goes on. and it keeps going on, whether or not you can stand it. i have absolutely zero patience anymore for anyone who doesn’t own their shit. for people who blame the world for their problems. for people who don’t seek the help they need. for people who make excuses and can’t admit that THEY MADE A MISTAKE. maybe if you were like “i should’ve learned it over the summer and last semester, bc now i’m dying lol” i’d have sympathy. but all you do is complain. “i’m on stage the WHOLE time, and then i have beethoven rehearsals, and i have brahms rehearsals and classes. and i was asked to do the entire dichtelierbe for someone” oh come on. i’m a soprano in demand, boo hoo. first, you’re acting like you’re the only person who has those issues. i have brahms, beethoven, a composition recital, a senior recital, classes, AND i’m stage managing your ass so i’m at even more rehearsals than you, and i’m balancing way more on my plate. and second, brahms is during choir class, you volunteered for beethoven, you could refuse the dichterliebe, and you got the opera music.nine.months.ago. WHY am i the only one (except like two other people) who doesn’t fall for your doe eyed woe is me act. be a fucking professional.

(also i really wanna know which idiot asked a young soprano to sing dichterliebe??? god the people at this school are UNBELIEVABLY DUMB)

#personal

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illtalktoyoureyes-blog · 7 years

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Siren and Jake have exhausted all of their options.

They've taken parenting classes, encouraged their children to use 'I' statements to express themselves, and attended four different therapy sessions with four different child psychiatrists of varying degrees of competency, (their last session ends abruptly after Piper flips the sand tray over and demands to see Dr. Melan's medical degree) before it becomes glaringly apparent that all of the family meetings and incentive-based 'positive behavior' charts in the world aren't capable of changing the reality of the situation.

♣

A few years after the late Tuesday afternoon wherein she sits in the living room watching her son punch an adult man in the face on CNN and realizes she may have underestimated the comfort level upon which her children operate re: sharing important things about their lives, Siren writes a book.

Part memoir, part examination of the complexities of modern parenting, the six hundred page collection of essays ranging anywhere from practical advice about delegitimizing the validity of gender roles to deeply humiliating anecdotes about leaving three-year-old Henry on a public bus that traverses the length of downtown Swellview before it's stopped by the transit authority. (Turns out, contacting the transit authority is a long, drawn out process that requires then Vice Mayor Clancy to pause Cat Surgeons mid-operation, drag himself out of the basement of the Mayor's mansion he's finally gotten security clearance to house-sit for while Mayor Willis is saying farewell to her appendix at Swellview General, drive three point four miles to City Hall, and fill out the paper work necessary to request the paper work necessary to contact the transit authority.) What Don't You Know is at turns; poignant, funny, horrifying, absurd and profound. It becomes a touchstone amongst the 'stay at home' set. A metric of morality in the hands of the kale-pureeing, baby yoga enthusiast, Mommy and Me seminar leaders. A dollop of bizarre escapism for exhausted single parents thankful that their most pressing trials are trying to decide which triple chocolate carrot cake looks the most "homemade" and explaining to strangers that 'Herbert's' tendency to latch onto people's forearms with his teeth is a sign of affection.

It even makes the New York Times best-seller list. Hovers at forty-nine for the three weeks Siren travels the talk show circuit.

♣

Piper's Face Tube channel gains four hundred and twenty-six followers after her mother's first appearance on Say What? With Pepper Jones.

By the end of the tour her follower count is up to a personal high of 15k. Despite the fact that they officially broker peace between their empires on stage at the Southern California Face Tube Awards her freshman year and that they've even collaborated on videos since, the knowledge that this count is roughly two thousand higher than Marla Kadowsky's fills Piper with the type of savage glee specific to triumphing over people stupid enough to underestimate her.

She doesn't pick up the book until she's so bored she isn't even really thinking about what she's doing. Doesn't actually open the thing until the Saturday morning the Wi-Fi goes out. After throwing herself in bed and screaming until she can't anymore, she rolls over and nearly impales herself on the sharp corner of the gross, stupid hardcover.

It's too...she can't really-

She gets to the fifth page.

♣

She doesn't like miss him or anything (gross). Piper can barely stand to look at his ugly ass profile pic on the rare occasions his stupid phone butt dials her. But for some reason, during Henry's weekly check-in from USC, after her parents are done asking all kinds of dumb questions and saying nauseating Hallmark Movie stuff while failing to hold back their 'I can't believe you came out of me' tears, Piper picks up her father's laptop and announces\yells that she'll be in her room.

Thanks to the angle of Henry's webcam, she has a great view of his 'practically falling apart bookshelf, his weird little action figures, the upper right hand corner of the Galaxy Wars XII poster that's curling off the wall, flapping in the breeze from the fan. The book is next to the keyboard. It takes five minutes of Henry not shutting up about his creepy roommate before she loses her patience and tells him she starts it.

Henry goes quiet. He's silent for so long Piper has time to remember a passive aggressive tweet about "ungrateful redheads" Marla Kadowsky sends out three days before . Well no. The morning that tragic sea witch chooses is the six year anniversary of the day Piper uploads her first Face Tube video, because of course it is. Henry interrupts her (rude) to ask all sorts of stupid questions like "wait, why are we in your room?" and "what are you even talking about?" and then they're just sort of yelling at each other and Piper can't exactly remember why but it feels good to crawl back up into her upper register.

Then Henry says, in his dumb normal voice: "I finished it."

And, well...neither of them really say anything after that.

#I don't even know #henry danger #hart fam future fic #super reluctant sibling bonding over having been less than stellar to their parents?#early morning tumbling

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maria-clorio · 7 years

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My Last Day of being 29

Today is the last day of my 20’s and I am an emotional wreck. Over the last few weeks I been having internal mini-meltdowns and I feel like this boiling pot could explode at any second now. Why am I so emotional? It’s not just about me turning 30; it goes deeper than that.

To start- where did the time go? In the blink of an eye- a whole decade has vanished in what seems a matter of seconds. As I sit and reflect, I been extremely hard on myself and I feel I haven’t accomplished as much but in reality I’ve done more than I could have imagined.

My 20’s has been a roller coaster. I did the crazy, drinking, partying, clubbing-thing. Which I now look back on with nostalgia and can’t help but laugh at all those dumb drunken stories. I also found love- something I truly always felt I didn’t deserve. My first boyfriend was emotionally abusive and at that time, I believed that’s what my life will be and that’s what I deserve. Be in a submissive relationship, get married, have a bunch of kids and obey my husband. Why did I have such low standards? I honestly don’t know. I never felt I deserved the moon. I thougth-“you’re not pretty enough and let’s face it, you don’t want to end up alone; so this is it.” After such turmoil and leaving my parents’ home, I finally got out of that relationship but ended up dating and desperately seeking “the one.” After no such luck- I fell into a deep depression which no one knew about nor did I admit to myself. The solution- heavy drinking and working like crazy. So cliché but when you least expect it- boom you fall intensely in love and I found the one. Not only did my husband save me from myself, he taught me what real love is. Now I madly in love to the god-honest truth that I can’t live without him.

My husband is my life. I can’t do anything without him; literally. I want to obbssessivly be with him (in a safe way I promise); I want to see the world with him and go through this thing we call life with him and only him. I don’t think he understands how much I thank him for loving me. Everyone will say it but honestly- I do have the best husband in the world.

In my 20’s I also learned about friendship- a very exhausting topic. Growing up I was not the popular girl; I was actually bullied my entire life, only back then the word “bully” was non-exsistent. I wanted so bad to have friends and no matter what I did, it never worked. In highschool I made one friend and boom I hit the jackpot. But as we started our 20s-we had a fall out. I moved on to college and for the first time ever I had friends and was “the popular” girl that everyone wanted to be around. I met all types of individuals from all types of backgrounds. I had the school friends, the partying friends, the work friends and the real true friends. I had ups and downs and different connections but it’s two special women that have made the most impact on me. One is Martha-where to begin J We went from drinking a whole bottle of wine on a Monday night, ignoring our studies, partying ‘till the sun came up, to crying our eyes off, to disitencing ourselves emotionally and physically to reconnecting in a beautiful way. She knows I have a tough exterior but this girl means everything to me. We are so different- yet for some weird reason she gets me. She’s always there when I least expect it and she always ends up showing me her friendship when I need it the most-without even knowing it.

The other amazing woman is Emelina. This girl who was a friend of a friend has become the sister I never had. Besides my viejo- she is the one person I can be 100% raw and honest with. The one I cry to and laugh with. She never-ever judges nor critics nor yells at me- nothing. She says nothing nor does nothing yet does everything and says everything. It is weird but this connection we have is beautiful and she doesn’t understand how much I genuienly appreciate her.

Moving on to my family- lord give me patience, literally. This whole “family before anything, family comes first” has never applied to me. My parents and I have a tough relationship. I’ve had so much resentment towards them and unconsciously blamed them for everything that’s wrong with me but never gave them credit for what’s right with me. They are not horrible people, they are just not affectionate nor supportive and they give tough love. But now that I am an adult- I’ve let go of the past. I heard Wendy Williams say that parents do the best they can but regardless, you can no longer blame them. At some point you have to grow up and realize that as an adult, it’s all on you. Yes, your parents did this, said that, but it’s up to you to move forward and become the person you want to be. Which is what I am doing. They are not affectionate, ok that means I will be. They are not supportive, ok instead of yelling and getting mad, I need to choose my words and help them understand. I also have to give them time and let them come around on their own time. Meaning, little by little my parents have changed. I also need to understand my parents come from a different generation and time, no education and tough situations. Now I can appreciate my parents working non-stop 2-3 jobs to make ends-meet. Now I can appreciate them not being around because they had to work their ass off in a country where they don’t speak the language and have to work jobs like janitorial work and dishwasher at restaurants. Now I can understand they had no time for lovey-dovey conversations nor hugs and kisses because they were too overwhelmed, over worked, under-appreciated, not recognized nor valued, too stressed to pay this damn mortgage to have a home in this so called “American dream.” Now I understand everything, all I need is patience to remind myelf not to loose my temper- especially considering they are both hot-headed like me.

Moving on to the one thing that has me freaking out and emotionally eating or barely eating, sometimes I can’t decide. My career. L I always wanted to be an entertainment reporter and then have my own talk show. I wanted to be like Wendy Williams with my radio talk show and then TV show. Talking about celebrity gossip. In college I had a taste of it but quickly realized that shit was not gonna work. This whole you can make your dreams come true and even be president if you really want to is a load of crap. First of all, in the Mexican market as I imagine it’s probably the same in general market, is a dog-eat-dog world. Unfortanelty, for women you have to look a certain way and act a certain way to get noticed. Men dominate this world and it’s actually a dirty world that I no longer want to be a part of and it is not worth it. I am not willing to loose my self-dignity and pride over it. So I decided, well scratch that, now I want to do public relations and represent artists. I moved to NYC, got a Masters’ degree, interned at agencies and quickly realized, not only does it not really pay the bills but it’s not as glamorous as I had imagined. PR is a lot of writing (which I enjoy but about my own life and thoughts) and it’s a very corporate world. I then ended up in media buying which was fun at first. Learning all about the TV world and marketing, advertising, PR but sadly realizing it’s a tedious, borring, and unpleasant world where the only thing that matters is those dollar signs and those ratings. Basically all my passions and career-interests have gone away. I’ve worked so hard for them and once I saw all the behind-the-scenes action, realized this is not for me. I made it but in a way I didn’t. I went after it, started to accomplish it, hit all those bumps on the road, had those highs and lows and as I approach the “goal” abruptly stopped and realized “oh shit” this is so not what I want. I saw the mountain, went after that mountain, climbed it, got to the top, realized there’s other mountains, went after those and along the road which make numerous turns, then realized, “um yea, this is not what I want anymore.”

Now here I am. Where do I go now? What do I do now? The most annoying question is, what do you want to do now? The insane answer: no clue. All my 20’s I was driven and worked hard. I outlined a plan and had back-ups. I had obstacles and over-came them. Goal oreinted and determined. Extremely hard on myself, high standards and zero tolerance for failures. Now I have no plan, no idea what my goals or dreams are, no idea what passions to pursue if any and no idea what career path to take. This is killing me. Always been someone with a plan and not having control is freaking me out. Is this when I’m supposed to find myself? Where are you? How do I get there and what will I find? Or who will I find? Will I even find me? Before I pin-pointed the mountain and went after it. Now it’s a flat land with nothing and no idea where to turn to.

I been so hard on myself and now is the time to give myself credit and let out a sigh of relief with a pat on the back. I pursued higher education, I accomplished it. I pursued certain companies and job positions and accomplished it. I began to travel, I found my fashion style, I become more knowledgeable in politics, sports, etc.- other topics besides entertainment. I learned about designer fashion, I started reading books and I expanded my TV viewing choices. I’ve moved away from the nest and dominated this wild concrete jungle- NYC. I’ve gone from this paisa girl who listens to banda and sets low standards, to a sophisticated woman that wants to see the world.

But the main issue is now what? What lies ahead of me in my 30’s, in this new decade. Where do I work? What do I wanna work in? Where do I take my relationships and which ones? And why is the clock ticking? Was it always ticking but I just never took a moment to pause and see it? Or is it that it’s now ticking away and I’m freaking out that time will fly by like my 20’s and I wont check-off my bucket list? Or is it that it is now time for me to stop and take a breather and enjoy life on the slow lane?

All I know is, I want to find a new career path and pursue it. I want to move away from New York, I’m over it. I want to become a mother and start a family but be more than a mom. I want to be able to work in something that full-fills me as a woman but also be a mom and take the kids to the park and enjoy the swing set and slides. I want to give my friendships the time and energy they deserve and receive the same. And lastly, I want to love myself. I want to get to that point where I truly and honestly accept and love my body. I want to put an end to this love/hate thing and be happy in my own skin. See myself the way my husband sees me. He says I am beautiful but sometimes I look at the mirror and can’t even stand myself. I want to look into that reflection and love what I see in that mirror.

I’ve exhausted myself and I’m emotionally drianed right now. I physically can’t type anymore. And I can’t get in touch with my feelings anymore. I need a break.

If you’re reading this. Thank you.

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sobdasha · 7 years

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I abused punctuation marks, italics, lifting wholesale from the flippant rough draft sketch notes including capslock, and an extremely extra narrative voice to write this. And I regret nothing.

katia asked: Drabble: Hatori and Mayu and "Marry me?”

Mayuko is not a goddamn cake. She is...she is a fine wine, damnit. The kind that gets better with patience, that becomes a comfortable part of the cellar décor first before it's enjoyed.

So if she's nearing thirty and she's not married yet that's fine. Society is dumb. Her parents are dumb (she loves them anyway). She can wait.

However long it takes Hatori to be ready to propose, she can wait.

Yes.

That's precisely why she lays her face down on the tabletop, on top of all the travel brochures, and bangs it with her fist.

"Marry me!" she wails. "I can't take it anymore, Hatori! Let's just get the paperwork filed and be done with it! You're a guy so it's not like you even care if we skip the ceremony anyway!"

Hatori raises his eyebrows behind the brochure he's skimming, but doesn't put it down. "Thank you," he says, "for that gross generalization, coming from the woman who doesn't seem to care much about her own wedding either."

That's...okay, you know what, Mayu's going to let that one go. She has greater things at stake here than trading insults, fun as bickering is.

She pounds her fist on the table one more time for good measure, then tilts her chin up and rests it on her other forearm. Instead of suffocating face-down in brochures. She is an adult grown-up woman. Somehow. People pay her to boss teenagers around. She is dignified.

(She has no dignity that is a lie.)

"Look," Mayu says, "I thought my parents were bad! But your family--"

It's not like she's unsympathetic to Hatori's loss. Her parents may still drive her crazy even though she's not a teenager anymore--actually, scratch that, Mayu's parents are so much worse now than they ever were when she was, you know, not out of the house yet.

But she can't imagine, really, that sort of hole in her life. Even if, by all accounts, Hatori wasn't particularly close with his parents.

But, well, there's that little part of Mayu that's, yes, a tiny bit (extremely, deeply, earnestly) grateful that the only marriage-crazy parents she has to deal with are her own.

She's seen the Souma family. They're… uptight is a good way to put it. They can be very, very uptight about Tradition and Old-Fashioned Values. The in-laws could have been a nightmare.

Except that Hatori's bringing to a marriage something even worse than a mother-in-law--a head of family.

To be fair, Akito isn't the same person Mayu once heard about. The one who threw a vase at Hatori's head and purposefully drove Kana to a nervous breakdown and health crisis.

Well. Okay. Actually Akito is that same person, except that in the intervening years she's learned a lot more about consequences and empathy and positive ways to work through abuse. And she's on a desperate, hellbent mission to prove this.

A case in point:

Okinawa, sunburns aside, is great. It's a step in the right direction! Yes! Two adults! Of the opposite sex! Going on a vacation! Together! The two of them! As...friends! Special friends??? Special friends!! Who get one room with two beds even though Hatori's footing the bill and he's filthy rich and he could get two just-friendly-friends rooms if he really wanted!

And then! When they come back! Hatori proposes the idea that they could make an official, formal announcement to his family that they're dating!

They're dating!

(Hatori offers to come with her to tell her parents as well, but Mayu declines. He won't admit it but Mayu is very sure that her mother has called him multiple times to ask when Hatori's planning to marry Mayu and that's with Mayu telling her parents calmly at the top of her voice that they are friends just friends don't you dare bother him and also he changed his phone number. So. No, thank you.)

So Hatori sets up an audience for the two of them with Akito. Because he's thoughtful. Because there won't be vases this time, and he'd like Akito to know that he knows that.

They wait outside the room.

A maid opens the sliding doors.

Neither of them has managed to set a foot across the threshold yet when Akito blurts YES WONDERFUL MY BLESSINGS UPON THIS UNION WE ARE ALL HAPPY THAT YOU TWO ARE HAPPY, INCIDENTALLY ARE YOU THINKING OF A SHINTO CEREMONY OR A WHITE WEDDING, WHATEVER MAKES YOU HAPPY OF COURSE THE SOUMA MONEY WILL SEE YOU HAVE A BEAUTIFUL WEDDING WHICHEVER YOU CHOOSE.

So...that goes well.

And it only gets worse. Because that outburst is not the end of it, no, that is the beginning.

"Akito keeps asking me about wedding dresses!" Mayu whines. Wait. No. Not whines. Calmly explains, like an adult, obviously, not like a practically 30-year-old who is flopped on the kitchen table and sulking and thinking that long hair was much handier for metaphorically tearing out in frustration.

"She won't stop! She has my phone number! She keeps texting me to ask which kinds of styles I like! And of course with the Souma family financing the wedding money is no object, have you considered designer dresses Mayuko, surely they make something that will actually be flattering and make you not look like a boy despite your height and your chest and your hair--!"

Hatori chuckles. Hatori, that jackass, has the audacity to chuckle in such a trying time!

"To be fair," he interrupts, "I suspect that's just Akito using you as a sort of dressmaker's dummy. Don't take it personally."

"No one's ever mistaken me for a man," Mayu hisses.

But she can only keep putting Akito off for so long. And what if Akito, in desperation at Mayu's lack of responsiveness, reaches out to Mayu's parents?

"What if Akito talks to my parents about wedding planning?!"

Mayu's fist is banging on the table again. A handful of innocent travel brochures flutter to the floor. Hatori reaches out and lays his hand over hers, pinning it to the tabletop.

"So you don't want a wedding ceremony," he says.

"I'd rather take all their lectures and die first."

"That's not at all melodramatic," Hatori says, uncurling her fingers and straightening her hand out under his.

And then: "But we won't be able to submit our forms until tomorrow. In the meantime, I'd appreciate it if you picked yourself up off the table and helped me get back to planning our honeymoon."

Mayu kicks Hatori's shin under the table, but smiles behind the cover of her arm.

#sobdasha fic #sobdasha fic adjacent #fruits basket #i had too much fun writing this #god i love hatori and mayu #god i love mayu #never forgive never forget the epic sulking fest when we rewatched the anime and i realized mayu WAS NOT IN IT #THE GREATEST CRIME AGAINST ME PERSONALLY WHY

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