#and not to be rude but you can tell the author's age to a degree

[thornsnvultures]

this book I'm reading feels like something from wattpad in 2009 but I can't put it down. like there's plenty here that's cringe (the long denim and corduroy skirts, describing every outfit in detail, the casual misogyny brushed off because the mmc gives puppy dog eyes and says sowwy), but there's just enough good that I can't stop reading it.

[justzawe]

Zawe Ashton Covers AMAZING Magazine | Issue 4

Actor, author, playwright and new mum Zawe Ashton adds another string to her bow: supervillain. As she joins the Marvel Cinematic Universe, she tells AMAZING about her love of poetry, getting physical on the set of The Marvels and the unwavering support of her own parents.

Zawe Ashton is no stranger to playing the antagonist. From her very first film role as rude schoolgirl Bianca in 2009’s St Trinian's 2: The Legend Of Fritton's Gold, to playing the intimidatingly cool Violet “Vod” Nordstrom in four seasons of student sitcom Fresh Meat and – more recently - as the rejected Julia Thistlewaite in 2022 period drama, Mr. Malcolm’s List, Ashton has a knack for taking on characters who appear unlikeable on paper… and making audiences fall in love with them. However, for her latest role as Dar-Benn in The Marvels, she had to go full villain.

“Very little can prepare you to have to embody an antagonist at this level, in a Universe that is literally not known to anyone – like our Space - and to make it real and impactful,” says the London-born actor, a new recruit to the Marvel Cinematic Universe. “There's something deeply humbling about having to return to the sandbox; you have to go back to the playground and that was something I was not expecting. You have to indulge in adult play and it’s surprisingly vulnerable. I know that there are gamers out there, there are cosplayers out there, there are adults who have managed to keep that level of childlike play going and I respect it so much. There's a self-consciousness that can take over if you are not careful. Trying to react realistically to a laser coming towards you is not something I’d done since I was seven years old, and I had to get to that level of childlike confidence to just delve into the imagination. Once that was all clearer, the villainous elements came so much from the physical world, with costume and hair.”

For 39-year-old Ashton, adult play will likely become a more frequent fixture in her life, thanks to her most exciting new role – as a mother. She welcomed her first child in 2022 with fiancé Tom Hiddleston, her co-star in the 2019 revival of Harold Pinter's Betrayal on London’s West End, later transferred to Broadway. “What has genuinely surprised me about motherhood is how much I don't feel ready to talk about it,” she laughs. “And this isn’t to shut down the conversation. I have gained so much insight from public people who have this incredible candour and this disarming, relatable dialogue about it very early on, but it's something that I am just dedicating time to absorbing. I’m listening rather than expelling energy. That genuinely has surprised me, because it's something you want to shout from the rooftops about; it's the most unparalleled, most important role in my life. The surprise has been how quiet I want to be about it. Maybe that's also me as a writer and this is something that will come through the pen at some point.”

Ashton attended London’s Anna Scher Theatre School from the age of six and was a member of the National Youth Theatre, before getting her degree in acting at Manchester Metropolitan University, but writing has always been significant in her life. She won the London Poetry Slam Championship in 2000, becoming the event’s youngest winner, at 17. “I may have been knocked off that pillar long ago, but in my head I'm still the youngest,” she laughs. “I love poetry. I had not written for a really long time; during the pandemic I lost a huge chunk of my creative soul when it came to putting pen to paper, which was really scary and was clearly the fallout of being in survival mode and feeling quite fearful. People's attention spans just went all sorts of different ways, didn't they? It was very hard for me to read, and it was very hard for me to write, which is very strange for me.

“More recently, a friend of mine from drama school who I used to do open mic nights with in Manchester – I used to perform poetry and she used to sing - asked me to write a poem for her wedding. I had a few moments where it was really tough, but I did it. I love her and I'm so happy for her, and being inspired enough to get a poem out and read it aloud really opened the floodgates. So, weirdly enough, I've been writing a lot of poetry recently and found a new love for it. I will always continue to use poetry as a way to understand the world. It's just so much part of who I am.”

For Zawe's full interview and shoot, order your copy of AMAZING issue 4 now. The Marvels is out now.

[zawescource]

Actor, author, playwright and new mum Zawe Ashton adds another string to her bow: supervillain. As she joins the Marvel Cinematic Universe, she tells AMAZING about her love of poetry, getting physical on the set of The Marvels and the unwavering support of her own parents.

Zawe Ashton is no stranger to playing the antagonist. From her very first film role as rude schoolgirl Bianca in 2009’s St Trinian's 2: The Legend Of Fritton's Gold, to playing the intimidatingly cool Violet “Vod” Nordstrom in four seasons of student sitcom Fresh Meat and – more recently - as the rejected Julia Thistlewaite in 2022 period drama, Mr. Malcolm’s List, Ashton has a knack for taking on characters who appear unlikeable on paper… and making audiences fall in love with them. However, for her latest role as Dar-Benn in The Marvels, she had to go full villain.

“Very little can prepare you to have to embody an antagonist at this level, in a Universe that is literally not known to anyone – like our Space - and to make it real and impactful,” says the London-born actor, a new recruit to the Marvel Cinematic Universe. “There's something deeply humbling about having to return to the sandbox; you have to go back to the playground and that was something I was not expecting. You have to indulge in adult play and it’s surprisingly vulnerable. I know that there are gamers out there, there are cosplayers out there, there are adults who have managed to keep that level of childlike play going and I respect it so much. There's a self-consciousness that can take over if you are not careful. Trying to react realistically to a laser coming towards you is not something I’d done since I was seven years old, and I had to get to that level of childlike confidence to just delve into the imagination. Once that was all clearer, the villainous elements came so much from the physical world, with costume and hair.”

For 39-year-old Ashton, adult play will likely become a more frequent fixture in her life, thanks to her most exciting new role – as a mother. She welcomed her first child in 2022 with fiancé Tom Hiddleston, her co-star in the 2019 revival of Harold Pinter's Betrayal on London’s West End, later transferred to Broadway. “What has genuinely surprised me about motherhood is how much I don't feel ready to talk about it,” she laughs. “And this isn’t to shut down the conversation. I have gained so much insight from public people who have this incredible candour and this disarming, relatable dialogue about it very early on, but it's something that I am just dedicating time to absorbing. I’m listening rather than expelling energy. That genuinely has surprised me, because it's something you want to shout from the rooftops about; it's the most unparalleled, most important role in my life. The surprise has been how quiet I want to be about it. Maybe that's also me as a writer and this is something that will come through the pen at some point.”

Ashton attended London’s Anna Scher Theatre School from the age of six and was a member of the National Youth Theatre, before getting her degree in acting at Manchester Metropolitan University, but writing has always been significant in her life. She won the London Poetry Slam Championship in 2000, becoming the event’s youngest winner, at 17. “I may have been knocked off that pillar long ago, but in my head I'm still the youngest,” she laughs. “I love poetry. I had not written for a really long time; during the pandemic I lost a huge chunk of my creative soul when it came to putting pen to paper, which was really scary and was clearly the fallout of being in survival mode and feeling quite fearful. People's attention spans just went all sorts of different ways, didn't they? It was very hard for me to read, and it was very hard for me to write, which is very strange for me.

“More recently, a friend of mine from drama school who I used to do open mic nights with in Manchester – I used to perform poetry and she used to sing - asked me to write a poem for her wedding. I had a few moments where it was really tough, but I did it. I love her and I'm so happy for her, and being inspired enough to get a poem out and read it aloud really opened the floodgates. So, weirdly enough, I've been writing a lot of poetry recently and found a new love for it. I will always continue to use poetry as a way to understand the world. It's just so much part of who I am.”

For Zawe's full interview and shoot, order your copy of AMAZING issue 4 now. The Marvels is out now.

[slickshoesareyoucrazy]

‘Shake Hands and Be Friends’

“I found myself remembering the day in kindergarten when the teachers showed us ‘Dumbo:’ a Disney movie about a puny, weird-looking circus elephant that everyone made fun of. As the story unfolded, I realized to my amazement that all the kids in the class, even the bullies, the ones who despised and tormented the weak and the ugly, were rooting *against* Dumbo’s tormentors. Over and over they laughed and cheered, both when Dumbo succeeded and when bad things happened to the bullies. But they’re *you,* I thought to myself. How did they not know? They didn’t know. It was astounding, an astounding truth. *Everyone thought they were Dumbo.*” ~ Elif Batuman from The Idiot

This book quote and Dumbo will hopefully make sense by the time you get to the end of the post. But right now, other than the evident surface meaning (which is enough, really), just bear with me. This is probably a jarring transition. At first.

Six Halloweens ago, The Boy was in the beginnings of third grade and he began having a problem with a bully at school…one of my worst nightmares as an anxious parent. I know every parent to some degree kind of brags about their kids…but I mean…my kid really IS kind and thoughtful and mature and smart. Really. He’s a deep thinker. He has a strong moral compass, and I’m not even going to qualify this with 'for a kid,’ or 'for his age,’ because I know my fair share of adults who aren’t as evolved. And I wish I could take credit for all of it, but really? He handled this bully situation more independently and more kindly and maturely than I would have handled it, even now, at age 44. For a month, The Boy just ignored this kid picking on him and saying hateful things to him daily. He’s strong like that. Why was this kid picking on my son? I don’t know, and to be quite frank, I don’t really give a fuck. I’m not a victim blamer. I know there are parents out there who believe their little angel can do no wrong, but I’m not one of those parents. I don’t blame teachers when my kid gets bad grades. If I thought for a second The Boy had been rude or mean or hateful, even unintentionally, to another kid, there would be consequences for The Boy, and he would know I was disappointed in him, and he would CARE I was disappointed in him, regardless of the reason for his unkindness to another person. That being said, I don’t believe my boy did anything to provoke this other kid. Anyway, after that month, the constant hateful words and the 'accidental’ bumping around on the playground at outside recess, and the ostracizing my son by intimidating other kids who were my son’s friends finally wore on the boy enough to tell his teacher. Who didn’t do shit. “Tell him to please stop.” That was her suggestion to my kid. After months of social and emotional torture. Bullies don’t respond to, 'Please stop treating me poorly.’ They don’t. But The Boy did try, 'Please stop,’ a few times. And he went to his teacher again to get the same useless 'assistance’ again. And then Christmas break rolled around. J and I had no idea The Boy was facing this situation at school, because school taught The Boy to Handle Things Himself and Not Tattle, and when he finally couldn’t take it anymore and went to the adult authority figure who was present and should have cared, he got no real help or relief. So he held it in. He never told us. His worthless, phoning it in teacher never told us (all my readers know I adore teachers as a group of people…but not this one in particular). So The Boy had a happy Christmas break with his family away from school for two weeks, and on the first scheduled day of school after break, he said he felt like he was going to throw up…he couldn’t eat breakfast…he had a headache…“I can’t go to school today, Mom.” He didn’t have a fever (headache with The Boy usually is because of dehydration, which I knew wasn’t the case…or comes with a fever, because it’s a sinus infection). And he never actually threw up or had any other digestive issues. And The Boy formerly *loved* school. He loves to learn new things. He’s an only child, so it’s his main chance to socialize with other kids on a regular basis. I mean, this is the same kid, who, in second grade when he had PNEUMONIA, begged to go to school. He’s not a school skippin’ kinda kid. So I asked him if something was worrying or upsetting him at school, because I remember my first panic attack, and The Boy’s symptoms looked the same to me. He started crying. And came out with everything. This other kid said some pretty hateful shit to my son…daily…for months. He pushed him around on the playground every day recess was outside, and one day, the school nurse called me to pick The Boy up because 'he tripped’ and had gotten a bloody lip that was so swollen and angry she thought he may require stitches and/or a visit to the dentist (he didn’t, thank goodness), and when I got there, through tears and pain, The Boy made it very clear to me, by repeating over and over again that, 'It was an accident.’ (I now obviously don’t believe it was an accident). This kid threatened other children that if they sat with my son at lunch/played with him at recess that he’d treat them similarly, and The Boy, as I’ve said, got no support from his teacher, who even after being approached directly did nothing, but didn’t notice the weeks of social shifting and differing behavior in the class before the approach either. The Boy felt like he was totally on his own, dealing with a little jerk like this…

I was livid, to say the least. I called school and demanded to speak with the principal…NOT his teacher, because I made it blatantly clear that I no longer trusted his teacher with my son’s well-being in any way. The Boy didn’t want me to call, and didn’t want to go talk to the principal, because despite how poorly and hurtfully he’d been treated for months with no recourse, he 'didn’t want <kid> to get in trouble.’ That’s the son I raised. I’m very proud of him. We aren’t a violent house, but I can say with authority that if I were him, that kid would have had the shit kicked out of him long before we reached the point we did. Like Ralphie in that movie ^^^? My limit would have been reached. The first thing I said to The Boy’s principal face to face was, 'My son does not have to forgive or socialize with this kid in any way. I don’t want any part of 'shake hands and be friends.“ See, I’m an optimist and I believe in kindness and acceptance. I really do. And I believe forgiveness is a good thing. I really do. But I don’t believe it’s something that’s granted without being earned. Civility and peaceful coexistence for the most part can be blanket given to all people, but forgiveness? After you’ve purposefully hurt me in any way possible for months without consequence? Nope. The oppressed and hurt don’t have to forgive and make amends with the people who oppress and hurt them. In fact, I hate the entire idea that they should. Because there isn’t equal blame and fault there; there shouldn’t be equal emotional labor spent in the aftermath. And let’s all be real…even on the rare occasions a bully truly IS sorry…it’s still uneven when the bullied forgive. The damage has already been done, and the bully already got away with it for however long. No. If forgiveness is ever possible, it must be sought and earned BY THE OPPRESSOR…by the person who did the hurting. And then *maybe*. But that’s still a maybe.

I don’t have to be friends with anyone who I feel devalues, disrespects, hurts, or otherwise doesn’t care about me, just because of some ancient philosopher’s idea that I should. I don’t have to educate my peers or especially those who are supposedly more mature and learned than me on how I should be treated, and give them chance after chance to hurt me and hurt me until they get it right. I’m done with that. I’m done with always being the kind, accepting doormat. I’m not a doormat; I’m a human being. So is my son. So is every other person who’s ever been pushed around by a bully for being…black? A girl? Small? Physically weaker? Smart? Not smart? Disabled? Ill? Different looking or sounding? Quiet? Loud? For how they dress? Their body style or facial features? How they learn? Who or what they love? Their natural human feelings? I’m responsible for my actions and how I treat other people, and it’s about damn time those who make choices to hurt and ridicule and generally act like assholes take some responsibility for theirs. They don’t get my blanket forgiveness and grace. Where was their grace for me when they were treating me poorly? No, from now on, as a human not a doormat, I demand sincere atonement first. And 'I’m sorry,’ doesn’t really mean shit. Talk’s cheap. Changed behavior is the real atonement. And I still don’t have to forgive you, and I definitely don’t have to 'shake hands and be friends,’ and let you back into my life. I decide, of those people who have hurt me, who earns my grace. And so does The Boy. And so does everyone else who’s been hurt by a bully for whatever reason for being naturally who they are.

Some of us are the mean, exclusionary elephants. Some of us are the circus bosses. Some of us are the clowns. We all need to be more self-aware about who we are and who is actually Dumbo in the story. It’s not always us. All of us aren’t Dumbo. Or the crows. Or Timothy Mouse. Some of us are the bad guys sometimes. We really are. We need to do better. And when and if we do better? Dumbo isn’t obligated to forgive us and be our friend now. He might. Dumbos are naturally like that, usually…sweet and kind and forgiving. But he doesn’t have to. He doesn’t have to shake our hand and be our friend. We need to stop demanding that he does.

*******

I originally wrote this a long time ago ^^^^. But I felt like posting it again today, not for my son (he’s thankfully never had another ‘bully’ problem now that he’s well into ninth grade), but for me. I was raised Catholic. Forgiveness is an ideal that’s constantly pressed as important, perhaps even more so than it is other Christian denominations. So I still struggle with standing up for myself when someone’s hurt me. My normal reaction is to just separate myself from that person as much as I can and heal on my own. It’s so rare that I’ve ever even been approached with apology, let alone atonement, for hurting me. I’ve not seen it or heard about it very often in others’ shared experience either. But even if someone did come to me and I felt they truly felt remorse, I admit, there are some actions people have taken with me and some ways people have treated me, that while I often ‘forgive’ people even without apology and atonement, in the sense that I normally fairly quickly move on and don’t let anger for them rule my thoughts or actions or life, it would be rare for me to ever invite someone back into my trust and confidence and friendship and life again after they’d hurt me. There are some harmful actions and behavior, that even with sincere remorse I couldn’t bring myself to ‘shake hands and be friends’ with a person who’d taken those actions with me. 

[ilikemesometaetaes]

Good Day (M)

Jeon Jungkook Oneshot

•••> Author: @ilikemesometaetaes​

•••> Summary: His motive was made quite clear once he called you out of work. He just wanted to spend a nice day with his girlfriend. Is that too much to ask for?

•••> Pairing(s): Jungkook/Reader

•••> Requested by Anon: “Can I request a Jungkook oneshot(established relationship) where they just want to spend the day just getting drunk on wine and having sex on the couch? Y/N could be dressed in just his shirt and Jungkook in just his sweatpants”

•••> Word Count: 6.15k [Unedited]

•••> Rating: 18+

•••> Tags: smut | Established Relationship | Jungkook!au | Boyfriend!Jungkook | Lazy Day/Sex | Wine Drunk

•••> Warnings: smut, slight bloating!kink (but there isn’t actually any bloating), unprotected sex, dirty talk, kookie is a horny little fuck, he literally just wants to bone, all day, he’s also a drunken idiot sometimes, cursing, alcohol use, shower stimulation, showerheads can be a girl’s best friend, drunk sex, lazy sex

Copyright © 2021 ilikemesometaetaes. All Rights Reserved.

Thank you for the request, anon! It took ages to complete and I’m so sorry! I hope you enjoy it :)

~#~

Arms tightened around your waist as you woke. The embrace was slightly suffocating.

“Baby,” You wheezed through your unused vocal cords. The grip only tightened and constricted your lungs, serving for a rude awakening. “Kook.”

“Murph.” Hot breath on your neck after a groan of exhaustion was a welcome feeling- comforting despite the uncomfortable position you were in. You smiled despite your lack of ability to move and looked down to see his tattooed arm overlapping the bare one over your ribs.

“I can’t-“ You were cut off as he tightened his grip with a slight whimper of distress.

Immediately plagued with concern, you grabbed his arms and wrestled them from your body so that you could turn to face him from within his encircled limbs. You only got more worried when you noticed his obvious stress-ridden eyebrows, arched up with eyelids fluttering rapidly. His lower lip was trembling as he quietly began muttering ‘no’ repeatedly.

“Jungkook.” You gently placed your hand on his bare shoulder and shook him. His fingers dug into your ribs painfully, warranting a more stern call of his name. “Jungkook!”

“No!” He yelled while sitting up abruptly and heaving for breath. You were thrown from his clutches and rocked on the bed from the movement. Despite the disturbance, you sat up with him and reached for his back to rub it soothingly.

“Baby,” You cooed, quick to reassure him with gentle touches. “I’m here. We’re here. You’re okay.”

Following your statements and ministrations on his back, his breathing gradually slowed with a few sputtering gasps and an audible gulp. Once you gauged his level of calm, you broke the silence.

“What happened?” You asked, tilting your head and leaning forward to get a better look at his face past his long hair. His eyes were shut tight with eyelids wrinkled at the corners while he inhaled slowly through flaring nostrils.

Your boyfriend opened his eyes after a moment, blinking a few times in the process, before turning his head to set you in his line of sight.

“They were taking my dad away.” He wavered. “But he’d already completed his time.”

You knew better- Jungkook’s father was safe in the comfort of his own home in Busan, already having served the mandatory enlistment for his home country- but you also knew that you needed to reassure your boyfriend so that he could relax his tensed shoulders.

“Do you want me to give him a call?” You asked. “I’m sure he’d appreciate hearing from us and it’s not too late in the evening over there.”

“No, it’s okay.” Jungkook said, letting the tremors fade from his body as he let reality sink into him. “He should get his rest. I’ll call him this evening.”

“Alright, Kook. Sounds good.” You gave him one more pat before looking at the clock. Your alarm would go off in eight minutes. “Shit. Might as well start getting ready now.”

“You do have work today.” Jungkook said the words as a statement, as if confirming prior thoughts.

“Yes,” You chuckled, smiling lightly and leaning in to kiss his cheek before getting out of the bed. “I do.”

A soft whine escaped his throat as he quickly grabbed onto your fingers. “Nooo… Don’t goooo…”

“I have to, baby.” You lightly tugged your fingers from his grasp to make your way towards the bathroom. Shuffling sheets from behind you signaled that Jungkook had also gotten out of the bed.

As you turned the shower handle and began taking off your clothes to shower, you heard him creep in behind you with light footsteps padding across the wooden floor.

“Don’t even think about it.” You giggled while he crowded his body against the back of your almost-bare one, wrapping his arms around your waist and pressing his ever-present morning wood against your skin. “I can’t be held up.”

“Then call out.” He whispered into your ear, to which you pulled away and turned around so that you could raise an eyebrow at him. Did he really just tell you to call out of work just so the two of you could bone?

His eyes were dark and playful as if challenging you while you stared up into his gaze defiantly. You scoffed in disbelief. “Jungkook, I can’t.”

“Why not?” He jutted his lower lip out into a pout. Fuck. You internally scowled at his tactics, hating the way your heart began trying to convince your brain to consider calling out.

Before you could crumble under the pressure of his ways, you huffed out a response. “Because I can’t, babe.” You slid your panties off and opened the shower door to step inside.

“-And don’t even think of coming in here. I can’t afford to be late.” You added the last part as you closed the glass door behind you, knowing his next strategy would be to tempt you with his naked body- a strategy you would surely lose to.

Jungkook groaned, pressing himself against the door with one arm bracing his weight against the distorted surface while you wet your hair. You watched in amusement as he slowly began accepting his defeat.

“But you work all the time.” He whined again, causing you to smugly and mockingly pout in response.

“So that I can make money.” You jokingly copied his tone and continued with your shower before he backed away from the glass in silence and stepped towards the sink. You watched as his shapeless body moved, deducting that he was going to brush his teeth as he reached into the drawer where you kept the toothpaste. Once he placed the toothbrush into his mouth and began brushing, you smiled, shook your head, and continued to shower.

“Y’know,” His words were jumbled as the toothbrush obstructed his speech. “You gon’ make me act up.”

“Act up?” You asked while laughing. “How are you going to act up?”

Jungkook leaned over the sink and spit, leaving a break of silence to drag your curiosity further. Once he rinsed his mouth, he turned to look at you again despite being unable to see you clearly. He sighed dramatically.

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you, babe.” He quipped before exiting the bathroom and shutting the door behind him.

You only scoffed at him again, rolling your eyes and hurrying with your shower to stay on schedule.

~#~

Fresh-faced and ready for work, you grabbed your purse and walked out of your bedroom to make your way towards the front door. The sound of something scraping against a pan while the oven fan hummed lowly tipped off that Jungkook was in the kitchen.

“Jungkook?” You called for him as you were about to round the corner. “Do you know where my phone is?”

The sight you walked in on was one of dreams.

Your boyfriend stood in front of the stove, cooking eggs and bacon, in nothing but a pair of sweatpants. Muscular back on full display, you let your eyes slowly trail all the way down the cut definition around his shoulders to the dimples stamped into the flesh of his lower back. The adorable crevices were graciously uncovered because of how low his pants hung on his hips.

“It’s on the counter.” He haphazardly gestured to the kitchen island with the spatula he was holding. You had to gulp down the saliva that collected in your mouth and blink a few times to snap yourself out of your haze so that you could grab your phone and leave.

“Thanks, baby.” You rushed up to the counter, grabbed your phone to drop it into your bag, turned to kiss Jungkook on the cheek, and quickly began to leave. “I’ll see you later. Love you!”

“Oh, by the way,” Jungkook started. You stopped in front of the door to put your heels on. “Your boss called.”

“She did?” You reached into your purse and fumbled around for your phone. “What did she say?”

“She said she hopes you feel better soon.”

“What?” You froze, unable to understand, and looked up at Jungkook who had already set the food on two plates. “Why?”

“Because you’re bedridden right now. Your head hurts oh, so bad and you have a runny nose with a fever of one-hundred and one degrees.” He pouted and looked at you with a mischievous glint in his eye despite wearing a somber expression on his face.

Realization set in all at once.

He. Did. Not.

“Jungkook,” You started, slightly upset. “I swear to god, if you did what I think you di-“

“A sick person shouldn’t be all dressed in heels and a pant suit. Why don’t you go change into something more comfortable and then come eat so we can get some food in your belly?”

You spluttered incredulously to a halt as he spoke, shocked by his drastic measures to keep you home. He lied to your boss and called out of work for you.

“What- exactly- did she say?” You gritted out.

Jungkook grabbed the two plates and walked to the kitchen table with a seemingly unbothered demeanor, placing them down carefully.

“She just said that you had it coming. You work too much for your own good and now you’re sick because of it.” He sauntered over to the fridge as you eyed him critically, glaring daggers into the back of his head while he spoke. “I agree with her, to be honest. You don’t look so good. All that working took a toll on you- do you want orange juice? Or water? Or some iced coffee?”

The oblivious facade only irritated you further, warranting you to kick off your heels, drop your purse, and stomp over to him. Grabbing him by the shoulder, you spun him around angrily, only to see a smug smirk plastered across his lips.

“I’ll take that as you wanting iced coffee. You were always a grump without some caffeine.” He grinned.

“Jeon Jungkook.” You hissed, glowering at him with increasing intensity. “What the hell did you call me out for?”

“I called you out-“ He started with a smirk, wrapping his fingers around your wrist and spinning you around quickly to press you against the fridge. His face morphed into a stern expression quickly. You never broke eye contact with him, intransigence unwavering under his pressure.

“- so that we can crack open those bottles of wine we hoard and I can fuck you open on the couch over and over again while we pretend to pay attention to a movie playing on the TV.”

Your anger dissipated instantaneously, brain functioning coming to a halt as his words sunk into your skin.

Well… shit. What’s your name again?

“Do you understand now?” Jungkook asked, leaning down far enough that his hair brushed against your forehead and his mint-scented breath tickled your nose and top lip.

“Y-yeah.” You stuttered.

“Good. Now, go change.” He grinned, backing away from you and reaching into the fridge to grab the orange juice and the iced coffee. You followed his command like a robot, excitement building in you so fast that you had no way to process the fact that you were livid with him moments ago.

It wasn’t long before you were bare-faced and clad in one of Jungkook’s shirts that you picked up from the bed. His scent filled the shirt, shampoo and body soap mixed with a slight edge of his natural musk. It was almost dizzying in your current state of arousal.

The heat between your legs distracted you throughout your breakfast as you sat at your small kitchen table across from Jungkook, but falling into a conversation with him came naturally. Your boyfriend lying to your boss about your sickness went easily forgotten as you began to enjoy the day off.

Before long, your plate was empty and all that remained in your glass of iced coffee was a few melting ice cubes. Looking over to Jungkook’s side of the table, you noticed that his dishes were also cleared of food.

“I’ll clean the dishes.” You said, getting up with your silverware, glass, and plate in hand.

“I won’t fight you on that.” He chuckled, getting up from his chair and grabbing his things too. “I’ll pour us some wine.”

“Sounds like a plan.” You affirmed.

As you set the now-clean items on the drying rack, you turned to find Jungkook leaning against the kitchen island with two wine glasses in one hand and a bottle of some nameless wine that someone had gifted to Jungkook not too long ago in the other while he grinned at you.

“Couch?” He asked.

“Couch.” You nodded, nerves building in you once again at the mention of the location.

You were just about to finish your second glass when you noticed Jungkook reaching for the bottle to pour himself the last bits of wine left inside.

“Nooo.” You whined, causing him to turn and face you in the process of pouring the remaining alcohol into his own glass. “I wanted it.”

“Nuh-uh.” He playfully turned his body away from you so that you couldn’t reach for the wine as he poured it. “This was my idea, so I get to have three cups. We can open another bottle anyway. We have a shit load.”

“But this one tastes yummy.” You complained, grabbing onto his shoulder to lightly urge him to face you.

He looked into your pleading eyes for a few moments with his lips pressed into a tight line before he huffed.

“Fine! But on one condition.” He set the bottle down on the table.

You raised your eyebrow at him expectantly. “What is the condition?”

“I’ll pour you this last glass if you join me in the shower when you’re finished with it.”

The shower? Oh boy. “I already took a shower, Kook.”

“So?” He smirked. “That doesn’t mean anything. I want you in the shower if I give you this last glass.”

Slightly warm and agreeable from the delicious wine, you gave in with a grumble. “Fine. I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

“Sweet.” Jungkook gestured for you to offer your glass so that he could fill it. Once he did, he brought the empty wine bottle to the kitchen and dropped it into the recycling bin, only to turn around and meet your following eyes as he stalked towards your bedroom with a devious smile on his lips. “See you in a few.”

You watched with slightly parted lips as he turned back around while beginning to hum an aimless tune to skip the rest of the way, giving you whiplash with how quickly he could turn from a man that made you lustfully feral to a boy that made you want to joyfully frolic through a meadow.

Determined to remain true to your word, you sipped your wine quickly. He wanted to be joined in the shower? So be it. It wasn’t long before your glass was empty once again.

Three glasses of wine and adrenaline pumping the alcohol quickly through your veins were the factors that caused you to feel a slight head rush and a bit loopy once you stood from the couch. Giggling softly at your condition, you left your empty glass next to his and headed in the direction of your bedroom.

Distantly, you heard smooth notes of a familiar song drifting from the bathroom. Jungkook loved to sing in the shower and you loved to listen to it. The sound of the water running only made taking a shower with him more inviting as you approached the closed bathroom door.

Sneaking in quietly, you shed your clothes once again, hoping to take him by surprise. Your plan only resulted in failure when Jungkook slid the door open to beckon you inside when you were in the middle of taking off your boyfriend’s shirt.

“C’mon, babe. We haven’t got all morning.” He smiled, wet hair mussed and pressed to his forehead.

“We don’t?” You laugh as you step inside so that he could close the door behind you. Immediately, you were encased in the tight, warm, and humid space. “I’m pretty sure that you made it so that we do.”

Swiftly, Jungkook wrapped his arm around your waist and spun you around to meet the steady stream of water. Crowding your back with his chest, Jungkook pressed his face up against the back of your neck.

“I know, babe, but I have a few plans now that you’re off.”

“Plans, you say?” You giggled and craned your head down to get his wandering nose away from your neck. He knew that you were ticklish and loved to attack the spot when he got playful.

“Yes ma’am.”

After a moment of standing in the shower, the telltale signs of your situation becoming hot and steamy made themselves prominent in the form of Jungkook’s semi-hard erection brushing your skin and the subtle notes of a growl tainting the edge of his exhales.

“You alright there, baby?” You teased.

“Mhm.” He hummed, detaching a hand from your body to reach for the showerhead. “Just wanna rinse you really quick.”

“Be my guest.” You let your head fall back to rest on his shoulder and closed your eyes, heart slightly picking up its pace at the elevating tension. For a moment, both of Jungkook’s arms left you to change the setting on the water pressure and you felt the steady stream turn harsh right below your collarbones.

You hummed in appreciation while he returned one of his arms around your waist and began running the water over your shoulders and arms with the other. Gradually, he began massaging you with it.

It wasn’t long before Jungkook’s true intentions came to the surface; slowly, the point of the pressure moved south from your shoulders to your breasts. You felt the showerhead point the stream closer and closer to your nipples, causing your eyelids to flutter open and look at the man delivering the sensations to your body.

You gasped softly as the water covered your left nipple and Jungkook tore his gaze from your chest to meet your eyes once you did. What greeted you in his irises was pure, prominent desire.

“Kookie.” You whispered, lips brushing his as your body became electrified like a live wire.

“Say the word, baby.” He crooned softly, encouraging. The pressure on your nipples only left you with your lips slightly parted and taking sharp inhales with a whine teasing your throat. Jungkook only continued to push you along, desperate to hear. “That’s it, baby. Say it.”

You whimpered, barely able to get it out. “Please.”

“As you wish, my love.”

And then he made the showerhead descend further down.

Your toes curled against the floor in anticipation that was fueled by how slow he moved. Your stomach vibrated while the water migrated down your expanse of skin to the place you wanted it most.

As the water touched the top of your mound, you reached up and curled an arm around Jungkook’s neck to prepare for the onslaught.

Your moan was unexpected; the force of the water shocked you into submission instantly.

Jungkook’s grip on you tightened soon after, followed by the low, comforting ‘sh’ that slid through his teeth when your body curled inwards.

The water pressure, turned high, forced its way past your pussy lips with no trouble at all. In its trajectory, your clit was battered as the only thing in the showerhead’s path. The intense amount of stimulation had you approaching an orgasm faster than you could count to three.

“Jungkook,” You whined at a high pitch, unused to the most adamant sensation of pleasure you’d felt in a while.

“You’re okay, baby. Just breathe. It’s alright.” Your boyfriend’s voice in your ear came out as a soothing coo, yet you couldn’t find it in yourself to breathe correctly when he was holding the showerhead so close to your bundle of nerves and tightening his grip around your waist to prevent you from escaping.

“I-I-“ You breathed so fast, it almost felt like you were hyperventilating. Your clit, taking the entirety of the assault by the water, throbbed wildly and spasmed as if attempting to get out from under the force.

Almost on instinct, you raised a leg to allow the water more access the the entirety of your pussy, hoping that your orgasm would crest upon you before you lost your mind, and braced your raised foot against Jungkook’s knee. You hoped that taking the attention off your clit would help balance out how boggled your mind was, but all it did was drive you crazy when you felt the pressure beginning to spread your folds apart to push inside.

“Oh, no. Now I can’t let that happen.” Jungkook spoke as if he were speaking to a child in disdain, repeating the word ‘no’ a few more times with his bottom lip jutted into a pout.

He moved the showerhead back up to solely torture your clit, warranting you to cry out and tighten your arm around the back of his neck while you squeezed your eyes shut. His voice turned into a growl. “I’m the only one who gets to be inside you.”

“No!” You groaned in frustration, jerking your hips in response to the stream returning to your most sensitive area. “Nononono baby, please.”

“It’s unhealthy for you, baby. I can’t put water up there. So just be a good girl and take it here.”

Jungkook seemed to punctuate his statement with a light twist of his wrist to circle your clit with the showerhead. Your legs shook from the strain of spreading them so hard and trembled from the new burst of stimulation.

It only took another few moments for your body to begin curling in on itself again.

“K-kook.” Your teeth chattered as you mumbled his name, eyes rolling back into your head.

Jungkook braced his back against the wall before squeezing your waist to lift your body against his chest. You had half the mind to help him, supporting some of your weight on his neck so that you could wrap your other leg around his to spread your thighs even further.

“You gonna cum?” His breathing was harsh in your ear as he watched your body.

Your response came out as a whimper of affirmation, unsure of how to speak with the vibrations of the water shooting up your spine and back down to your curling toes.

Jungkook’s erection throbbed against your back while you let out sounds that were a mixture of huffs for breath and moans of pleasure. At this point, though, you couldn’t bring yourself to care about anything but making sure you orgasmed in the next five seconds.

You knew you were going to cum when you felt the tingling sensation spread like wildfire from your battered nub. It bloomed in your lower belly and seared every muscle in its path throughout your body, causing all of the sinew and tendons to tighten in response. As the orgasm ripped through you, your body became rigid with a few jerks of sensitivity.

Your eyes rolled back and you pressed your forehead against the side of Jungkook’s neck with the need to be as close to him as possible during your orgasm. Your ecstasy seared through you and overtook your body to act on its own accord. Far beyond the darkness of your eyelids, you reveled in the immense satisfaction, pussy spasming in the aftershocks.

Once Jungkook removed the showerhead and your body calmed, he slowly lowered you back down to the floor. Shaky legs prevented you from standing completely straight and you laughed breathlessly at how the prior activities caused an uncanny amount of oversensitivity in your nether regions.

One step forward and your clit was slightly rubbed, shooting sparks of mild pain and pussy-clenching pleasure throughout your stomach.

“You shouldn’t have done that, babe. I’m way too sensitive for any more action now.”

“That’s alright, love.” Jungkook kissed the side of your temple and switched you around so that he could stand under the stream of the shower. “Go and get dried off and dressed. I’ll meet you in the living room for a movie?”

As if it was glaring at you, you couldn’t help but drag your eyes down your boyfriend’s toned body to the angry red tip of his dick.

“I, uh…” You trailed off sheepishly. “I can suck you off? Let me help you out.”

“No, it’s okay, babe. Now, go.” He ushered you out of the shower while you furrowed your eyebrows in confusion. Why was he giving himself blue balls?

Leaving him alone in the shower was most definitely bothersome, but on shaky and fatigued legs, you couldn’t really fight him on the matter. As you toweled off and glanced through the shower door to look at Jungkook’s form, you furrowed your eyebrows even further when he didn’t start touching himself.

After you were dressed in his shirt- again- and sitting in the living room with Netflix open, ready for your boyfriend, you began to feel the exhaustion from your earlier activities on top of the fact that you hated waking up early for work. Comfortably warm, showered, and relaxed on an unexpected day off, the calm had your body sinking further into the couch and reveling in the warmth of the blanket placed over your body.

Just as you were about to drift off, you heard Jungkook padding down the hallway from your bedroom, prompting you to turn and look at him.

Your eyes had trouble staying on his playful expression when he was dressed the way he was dressed.

His hair was still wet, droplets dripping onto his shoulders and cascading down the expanse of his shirtless body. All that covered him was his favorite pair of raggedy joggers. Frankly, they were your favorite pair as well- for obvious reasons.

“Wine?” He asked as he made his way into the kitchen.

“Yesss.” You drawled with a newly awakened sense of excitement.

After grabbing two bottles and popping them open, he snuggled into the couch with you, wine glasses in hand. You held your breath and attempted to control your body, pussy pulsating slightly from the aftermath of the shower.

It took a while to get back to where you were before, but once you were much past the point of being giggly, you began to slur your speech as the movie played on.

Jungkook wasn’t in much better shape.

“You know,” Jungkook sat up and swayed a little too far forward, catching his body right before he toppled over. He snickered at himself before he continued. “I haven’t really been paying attention to anything we’ve been watching.”

“What?” You were honestly shocked, drunken mind and all. “But ‘About Time’ is so good! Like, what the heck Kookie-ookie-ook! This movie is so cute and interesting.”

The new nickname sent you into a fit of giggles. Your creativity tended to get a bit wonky and, honestly, comical when you were drunk.

“But how could I possibly pay attention to the movie when I’ve been thinking about burying my cum in-between your legs for the past hour?”

His statement surprised you to say the least. Your pussy throbbed uncontrollably, sensitivity still present from the shower. You couldn’t help but think of how sex with him in your current state would be.

“Why didn’t you let me suck your dick in the shower? I could’ve taken care of you, you know.”

“But I wanted to give you a break so that I could cum inside. That’s the only place I want to cum.”

“So you don’t want to cum down my throat?” You blamed the wine for the filthily honest statements coming out of both or your mouths. Speaking this casually about your sexual activities wasn’t exactly the norm.

“On any other day, I’d say yes. But today? I really just want to fill you up. Fuck you all day.” Your boyfriend inched towards you slowly without actually looking at you. It seemed that he just wanted to be in a closer proximity with you yet was hesitant to get too close. “Make you bloated. Hear it slosh around when you move.”

You were kind of mortified, but you were also extremely horny at the same time. Of course, he wouldn’t be able to bloat you nor would he be able to hear his cum inside of you, but it was the thought that counted.

“You wanna fuck?”

Jungkook turned to completely face you, chocolate-brown doe eyes silently pleading for the go-ahead. He bit his bottom lip before pushing it out into a pout as he whined. “Uhuh.”

You laughed as you threw off the blankets and spread your bare legs. Your boyfriend’s shirt came to rest on your waist from the action.

You gestured to your crotch and then curled your fingers towards yourself, smiling.

“Come to momma.”

Jungkook did not hesitate to cover you with his body and kiss you sloppily. The wine was taking its toll on your movements with him, encasing him in your hold lazily.

Somewhere between the messy tongues and teeth, Jungkook had managed to push your panties aside to thumb over your sensitivity. It took everything in you to not scream out- whether it would be a scream in pain or pleasure still had yet to be determined.

Your nub tingled desperately, pleasure-fatigued and vulnerable to the ministrations of Jungkook’s thumb. Finally, though, he had begun dipping his fingers into your core to balance out the bliss.

“Gonna paint you white. Make it drip.” Jungkook mumbled almost incoherently as he spoke with your bottom lip sucked between his plump ones. Your fingers threaded into his blonde locks, tugging when you needed a way to release your sexual frustration from his dirty words.

You hadn’t noticed when he retracted his fingers from your depths, but you definitely felt the sensation of him rubbing his dick into your folds. The smooth surface of his tip contrasted sharply with the roughness of the pad of his thumb. You hadn’t even realized that he had slipped the waistband of his sweatpants down to free his erection.

The sensation was beginning to sober you up just a little.

As he slipped inside you, you keened, angling your hips to receive him. He kept one hand hooked around your panties to keep it to the side and circled the other around your waist to allow himself to lay atop you. All of his body weight crushed you into the couch, but the closeness of him on you was gratifying.

Jungkook dug his face into your neck, moaning softly as your velvet walls parted to caress his cock. He wanted to feel your pussy drag on him and squeeze in an attempt to bring him back inside. He needed to feel how much your body enjoyed him inside of you.

So he kept his movements to a slow minimum, lazily curling his hips to just barely rear back so that he could reenter with an unmotivated rhythm. It was perfect for you because your mind was already warm and fuzzy, unable to keep up with much.

You sighed in relief, feeling his skin rubbing against your clit as he bottomed out time and time again. He separated your walls agonizingly slow, yet it was the perfect rhythm that allowed you to feel each time the head of his dick kissed the end of your cavern.

You moaned softly as the movie played on, begging for attention but receiving none. It was no use ignoring the fact that your orgasm was building with Jungkook’s hips touching your skin. Even at the leisurely pace that he fucked you, the passion was ever present and working you up.

For the next ten minutes, Jungkook kept his tempo gentle and relaxed, uncaring of reaching his climax too soon. You, on the other hand, reached your tipping point as he dug his nails into your waist.

Almost like a dream, your orgasm layered itself onto you softly. You trembled under his weight but held him closer to help accommodate the bliss of your muscles contracting around Jungkook’s deliberate thrusts.

When you heard the tell-tale sign of your boyfriend softly grunting into your skin, you could tell he was beginning to feel his impending orgasm born from your own. It was only moments later that he began leaving sloppy kisses and love bites onto your neck as he shuddered a breath.

Calm and still quite drunk, you still managed to feel his cock pulsing against the restrictive embrace of your depths. You ran your fingers through his hair and smiled delightfully at the sensation of being the one to receive his love and affection. The temptation to to kiss his sweaty temple was too strong to resist once he ceased moving and slumped against you.

The silence was peaceful. Minutes had passed without a word. The afterglow of your sex was strong and loving, warming the two of you like a blanket.

From the way he breathed so evenly, you believed that Jungkook had fallen asleep. It was only when he let out a light chuckle that you looked down and saw him smiling with his cheek smushed against your chest.

“I like drunk sex.” He muttered. “It’s fun.”

You had to agree with him on that one. “I think it’s fun too.”

After a beat, he whined. “But why do I still want moreee?”

“I’m afraid that’s not entirely up to you.” You tipped your head back and laughed, inebriated mind coming up with more silly nicknames. “It seems that Mister PP can’t take any more right now.”

Drunk Jungkook was one you could always get behind. Instead of acting like an idiot, he acted like a kid- not the bratty kind, of course. He was cute and cuddly, a perfect opposite to how he acted sober.

However-

The moment he attempted to retain his erection by pulling it out of you and yelling at it became one of the few moments that he acted like a complete idiot.

“No! He can go again! Isn’t that right, Mister PP?” You watched as his dick gave one last jerk of life before it began softening. You wheezed from laughter as your boyfriend’s eyes widened in horror. “No! You can’t do this to me right now! We were supposed to fuck her full of cum!”

“It’s okay, babe.” You reassured him as you slowly nudged him off of you so that you could go clean yourself. “Just take a break, okay?”

On shaky legs, once again, you stood and headed for the bathroom to clean yourself with a giggle slipping past your lips.

Once you got back to the living room, your eyes immediately zeroed in on Jungkook sitting upright on the couch, tenderly stroking his dick through his sweatpants with a look of defeat on his face. You just sighed and grabbed the remote to turn up the volume of the TV in hopes of distracting him.

He couldn’t help it. He was much too drunk to get himself hard again so soon after sex, so you would wait until he was since he was so determined.

The movie as well as your second bottle of wine were coming to an end when he screamed in success. You jumped out of your skin at the exclamation, placing a hand over your racing heart.

“Yes! He did it! He’s back!” You looked at him in shock when he reached into his waistband to grip himself. His eyes locked with yours as he did so, smirking in the process.

You raised an eyebrow at him expectantly, yet below your cool exterior was the unavoidable truth that was the awakening of the flames of your desire.

“Is this why you called me out today?” You turned your whole body to face him. “So you could fuck me all day?”

“Mhm.” He affirmed, grabbing you and slowly turning you onto your stomach. “That’s exactly why. I just need to be inside you. Like, all the time.”

As you felt him slide your panties down your legs, the tone in his voice changed. The chuckle he let out wasn’t nearly cute and innocent anymore; his demeanor became dark and menacing.

“I called you out so that I could fuck you all day- in every way I could think of.”

A shiver ran up your spine at the sudden shift of mood. Your body, worn out and exhausted, still managed to vibrate in excitement when Jungkook took a handful of your ass and squeezed it harshly. He leaned over your body to whisper in your ear after running a hand under your shirt to tweak a nipple between his fingers.

“You got the lazy vanilla shit first. Now, let’s play.”

~#~

If you’d like to read more of my work, feel free to check out my Masterlist!

[robininthelabyrinth]

Spilled Pearls

- Chapter 5 - ao3 -

The Nightless City was like nothing Lan Qiren had ever seen before in his life.

It was grand and glorious, everything writ large on a massive scale – the number of people, the number of buildings, the size of the buildings…it was said that Lanling City was more crowded and full of people, but that was because it had a smaller scope, shoving all those people into a small area, while the Nightless City never ran out of space because any time it did it would just expand its borders further.

For someone like Lan Qiren, who longed to travel to the strange parts of the world and see all sorts of things for the first time, it was a dream come true –

Or rather, it would be, if only he had the ability to give it the attention it deserved. Which he didn’t.

The issue had initially arisen in the week leading up to their departure from the Cloud Recesses. Like all the other disciples, especially those nominated for their musical talents, Lan Qiren had spent a great deal of time in the library pavilion, perusing score after score in search of the one that they would present as their own individual selection.

He’d found one he rather liked: an exceedingly complicated piece, composed for the guqin, meant to signify the orderly chaos of nature and winning mastery over the internal chaos within. It had been a challenge to master the complex finger work, not to mention the necessary qi fluctuations required to properly showcase the song even if he had no plans to wield it as a spell – no one actually needed roots to leap up from the earth to try to trap his enemies in the middle of a musical demonstration – but he’d accomplished it, meeting even his own stringent standards for excellence. He’d been very proud, and eager to display it at the discussion conference.

His brother, in conjunction with the teacher that would be accompanying them, had rejected it.

They hadn’t even let him demonstrate that he’d adequately mastered it – their teacher, the swordfighting master that his brother liked so much, had taken a cursory look at the score and deemed it too eccentric; his brother had judged it too flashy, and thus too risky. They had recommended he perform one of the more traditional Lan sect songs that they knew he had mastered perfectly: Inquiry, perhaps, or Evocation.

Lan Qiren had decided to ignore them.

He hadn’t told them that, of course. He’d kept his decision hugged close to his chest, buried beneath a façade of calm that was easy enough to keep in place since most people couldn’t tell his stressed expression from his regular one, and his tone never really got that far from a monotone anyway.

He’d kept that secret, turning it over and over in his head, unable to think of anything else, unable to enjoy the distant travel (well, unable to enjoy it as much as he should), unable to really appreciate the grandiose opening ceremonies, the sect leaders of the Great Sects seated together on their platform, the smaller sects beneath them…

Luckily, the music competition was scheduled for the very first day of the conference, right after the opening ceremony. First there was the technical challenge, in which they all played together – that made it especially difficult, because a single wrong note by your neighbor could knock off your own playing if you weren’t focused, while the judges were all cultivators powerful enough to sharpen their hearing and pick out any discordant sounds even out of the large crowd of them all going at it together – and then the individual performances.

Lan Qiren had the honor of going fourth.

He went out there, saluted the judges, saluted the audience of sect leaders, sat down on the platform and played the song he wanted to play. If perhaps he had his heart in his throat because of a mixture of nervousness and anticipation, if perhaps his gut churned, feeling unusually full of spite and rebelliousness – he put it all aside in favor of the music.

Nothing mattered when he played but the music. Nothing.

When it was done, he stood and saluted again – the judges, then the audience – and retreated back to the area where the Lan sect was standing. As he’d expected, his teacher was waiting for him, hands behind his back and apparently calm on the surface; a small jerk of his head, and Lan Qiren knew to obediently follow him.

They couldn’t leave, of course, since that would be rude, but they went a little ways off to the side to a more secluded corner of the field where they could be safely ignored - everyone’s attention was on the performances.

“Do not tell lies,” the teacher said, a censure, and Lan Qiren dropped into a deep salute.

“I did not lie, honored teacher,” he said, eyes fixed firmly on the ground. “According to the guidelines set out when the event was announced, each disciple has the right to select his own music for the independent portion of the competition, provided that they can perform their selected composition to an adequate degree of mastery. Although you and my brother recommended that I select Inquiry as my performance piece instead, I did not accept your recommendation, and have never said that I would.”

His teacher’s frown deepened. “I would have expected better of you,” he said, and Lan Qiren’s shoulders curled inwards a little, the words cutting as deeply as any knife. “Quibbling over such a technicality with your elders – do not forget, arrogance is forbidden.”

Lan Qiren held the salute in place. “I understand, honored teacher.”

“Have you anything more to say to yourself?”

Lan Qiren thought about simply accepting the punishment that his teacher’s tone warned was inevitable, but – he really, truly did not believe he deserved it. And so, even though it might only make it worse, he opened his mouth and stumbled clumsily through the argument he had written out in advance, citing the rules and prior interpretations of the rules that he believed supported his actions. He was very confident of his grasp on the rules, but less sure of his persuasive powers and altogether despairing of any oratory skill, and yet...he had to try.

His teacher listened in stony silence. When Lan Qiren was done, he said, “I had never supposed you to be born with a lawyer’s tongue,” which was an insult – the Lan sect, like most cultivation sects, were gentry and thus had no need to seek employment in the magistrates’ courts. “Do you intend to continue on this rebellious path?”

“No, honored teacher,” Lan Qiren said emphatically. “In all other respects, I will listen to your orders, and my brother’s, as if they were carved on the Wall of Discipline.”

His teacher huffed disbelievingly, but he flicked his sleeves and went back to the crowd of Lan sect disciples currently spectating the next player in sequence without imposing any immediate punishment. That was an implicit concession to Lan Qiren’s argument: if he had failed to be convincing, a punishment would have been imposed at once.

Lan Qiren straightened himself out of his salute – his teacher had not granted him permission to rise throughout his recitation, and he hadn’t wanted to make his rebelliousness worse by presuming – and allowed himself a brilliant smile.

His teacher’s departure did not mean that he would escape all censure; his brother, sitting up at the sect leader’s pavilion, would undoubtedly have his own views on the subject, and of course simply disrespecting age and authority in public was reason enough for discipline. But Lan Qiren had done it. He had maintained his own position despite adversity and remained true to himself; he had not yielded, even if only in such a small matter, and he had persevered. Truly, it was as the rules said: have a strong will and anything can be achieved.

He looked around to check to make sure that no one had noticed their little interchange, mindful of his promise and his brother’s instruction that he not lose face, but it didn’t seem to be that way. Even on the sect leader’s pavilion, the sect leaders were all watching the performance – Wen Ruohan even had his head tilted to the side as if sharpening his hearing so as to listen more intently, which Lan Qiren supposed was further evidence that he wasn’t as disinterested in musical matters as others had speculated, and also that whoever was playing (he wasn’t paying attention) must be quite good.

It didn’t matter. Lan Qiren hadn’t played his selection because he’d been obsessively determined to win; he had only wanted to display some part of himself sincerely, and he had done so. Whatever else happened, that was sufficient.

He took a moment to find his calm once again, allowing his face to return to an expression of neutrality – gloating was unseemly, and forbidden by the rules, if other lose to you, don’t look down on them, even if the victory here was minor – and then at last returned to his place among the other Lan sect disciples.

He watched the remaining performances calmly, and without incident.

After the competition was done, the judges began to debate their rankings. Musical competitions were generally not favored at discussion conferences because of the need for careful consideration before victory or defeat could be determined – unlike in a contest of martial strength, when the contestants were near to each other in strength there was no immediate understanding of who had won – but Wen Ruohan had apparently planned ahead for that.

He announced that the contestants and audience would be dismissed while the judges’ deliberations were ongoing – in order to allow them to begin enjoying the wonders of the Nightless City, he explained with a supercilious smirk – and that the results of the competition would be announced shortly before the banquet planned for dinner.

Lan Qiren was not surprised when the sect leaders largely stayed behind, at least initially, to continue conversations; he was only relieved that he had a small reprieve before his brother came to scold him. Similarly, he was unsurprised when his fellow disciples immediately split into groups to go out to explore the Nightless City, and when those groups did not include him – even the ones that he would have otherwise expected to invite him, the ones he was more friendly with, cast fearful glances at their stone-faced teacher and apologetic ones at him; no one wanted to be associated with a troublemaker lest they be dragged into the mire alongside them.

It was fine.

Lan Qiren nodded at them, indicating that he understood, to their evident relief, and turned to look at his teacher in silent question. It was not unthinkable that he could go out alone…

“Perhaps you should stay behind,” his teacher said icily. “You can use the time for contemplation.”

Lan Qiren had promised himself: one rebellion, and nothing more. He raised his hands into a salute.

“As you say, honored teacher.”

Instead of following the others out, as he might have otherwise wanted to do, he turned his feet instead to one of the internal gardens in the Nightless City, brightly lit and shining, with a bench for him to sit and observe the designs, seeking calmness and clarity.

Maybe he could meditate a little. At least that would help pass the time -

“Congratulations on your victory.”

Lan Qiren raised his head, surprised out of the trance he’d settled info.

He had not expected anyone to find him in the garden where he was lurking, least of all Lao Nie.

“What victory?” he asked, and the older man grinned at him.

“Your imminent one, of course,” he said, gesturing for Lan Qiren to move over on the bench and settling down next to him once he complied. “That was a fantastic performance you gave earlier, and it wasn’t like we weren’t all expecting the Lan sect to win the music competition anyway.”

“Expecting the Lan sect to win doesn’t mean that I would be the one to win,” Lan Qiren mumbled, feeling his cheeks and ears go hot. “Arrogance –”

“Forbidden? Big surprise,” Lao Nie teased, and Lan Qiren ducked his head.

Technically, as a junior, he shouldn’t be acting overly familiar with sect leaders from other sects, but Lao Nie – no one ever called him Sect Leader Nie, and it wasn’t disrespect but fondness that drove them – was an exception to most rules. His Nie sect was longstanding allies of the Lan sect, and he himself was effortlessly charismatic, charming and gregarious. Even Lan Qiren’s brother admired him.

Lan Qiren also admired him.

It had been Lao Nie’s occasional intervention that had convinced his brother to take Lan Qiren along on some night-hunts when he’d been younger, and while they weren’t especially close by any means – Lan Qiren suspected he was currently simply too young to interest Lao Nie as an equal, as opposed to a junior in need of mentoring, and he longed to get old enough that that to no longer be an issue – Lao Nie was one of the few people Lan Qiren knew that had never minded indulging his eccentricities.

“I’m surprised to see you here,” Lao Nie remarked. “With all your talk of travel, I would’ve thought you’d be out exploring the city.”

Lan Qiren’s mood, which had been starting to improve, plummeted.

“Hmm. Sore spot?”

Lan Qiren’s shoulders were up by his shoulders. “I shouldn’t complain.”

“That just means you want to,” Lao Nie said wisely, and nudged him a little with his shoulder. “Did you get ordered to stay behind? You? You never break the rules.”

“I didn’t break the rules! My teacher made a strong recommendation that I reconsider my selection for the independent performance portion of the competition…”

“And you didn’t take the suggestion?” Lao Nie was smiling. “What a show of rebellion.”

Lan Qiren flushed red again. He was being teased, he knew.

“Since you’ve already had one rebellion, why not another?”

Lan Qiren frowned, not understanding.

“Go out,” Lao Nie clarified, still smiling. “There’s still at least half a shichen before dinner; you could see some of the city, apologize later – no? Why not?”

Lan Qiren was shaking his head. “I promised I would listen to my brother,” he said simply. “He instructed me to listen to the teacher, and the teacher said to stay, so I’ll stay. Perhaps tomorrow he will yield and allow me to explore by myself.”

“By yourself?”

“It would trouble the other disciples to be associated with me until there’s been an appropriate opportunity to review my behavior and determine if punishment is required –”

Lao Nie shook his head. Presumably things were different in his Nie sect, as they often were.

“Well, if you really need some company to go out, let me know,” he said.

“I couldn’t presume –”

“I’m offering,” Lao Nie said firmly, and this was why he was Lan Qiren’s favorite sect leader other than his father. Sometimes, secretly, even more than his father. “Really, I don’t understand your sect sometimes. What’s the point of keeping you so restricted? You’re already an adolescent, you’re old enough to join your own night-hunts…you can go night-hunting, right?”

“I can,” Lan Qiren confirmed, because he really was old enough to have gone on his own - old enough to night-hunt and swear oaths, that first formal stage of adulthood - but then conceded, “With company, and permission from the sect. Otherwise, disciples are only permitted to leave the Cloud Recesses to visit family.”

“…your family is the Cloud Recesses, Qiren.”

Lan Qiren shrugged.

“Don’t you feel stifled by it?”

Most of the time, he didn’t. Lan Qiren truly loved his home: he loved the routine of it, the rules; the peacefulness, the predictability, and all the familiar people; he loved the comfort of knowing where everything was and why. There was no place in the world he would rather call home, not even if he had the rest of it placed at his feet.

Still, sometimes…

He shifted a little in his seat, and decided to be a little daring. It was only Lao Nie, after all. “Well, knowing I’ll be able to leave one day helps.”

Lao Nie laughed and reached out to pat Lan Qiren’s head. His hand was large and warm.

“Are you sure you wouldn’t consider a little adventure, earlier on…?” he asked, trailing off.

“No, Sect Leader,” Lan Qiren said, and he wasn’t even that regretful. “I promised my brother. It’s important to him, you know, that I not lose face for him and the sect, and that means it’s important to me. So I won’t. I wouldn’t do that to him.”

Someone cleared their throat.

Lan Qiren looked at the doorway even as Lao Nie pulled back his hand: it was Wen Ruohan, standing there with his hands behind his back, a false smile on his lips and his eyes glittering with some strange and inexplicable emotion. “Several of the other sect leaders are demanding that you come and settle a dispute,” he said to Lao Nie. “Assuming you’re not too busy.”

Lao Nie chuckled. “For my fellow sect leaders? Never. I’ll be along momentarily.”

Wen Ruohan nodded, surveying them both briefly – Lan Qiren felt strangely vulnerable beneath his gaze, and he didn’t know why – before turning away in a swirl of robes.

“He seemed angry,” Lan Qiren observed, wondering why, but Lao Nie was already shaking his head.

“Oh, Hanhan’s more bark than bite,” he said confidently, and Lan Qiren nearly choked. Hanhan? Who would call Wen Ruohan by a diminutive? And anyway, since when did Lao Nie do that – had their relationship changed since the Lan sect conference or something? “Don’t worry, I’ll talk to him. Enjoy your upcoming triumph, Qiren!”

Lan Qiren didn’t bother to remind him once again that he was not sure to win, watching him go after Wen Ruohan with long, loping strides that Lan Qiren could only envy, his own frame gawky and still uncoordinated.

He sighed.

“ – such a fuss!” He could still hear Lao Nie in the distance, the older man’s voice carrying a little too far as always. “Really, Hanhan, haven’t you done enough already, with all those rumors that are always going around since last time…?”

A brief pause, murmurs in lower voices.

“ – more honored in the breach. Even in the Lan sect!”

And then there was laughter.

Lan Qiren wondered what Lao Nie meant by that. Was he talking about Lan Qiren? To Wen Ruohan?

Surely not.

[skjaem]

𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐬

This account is not affiliated with Na Jaemin, NCT Dream, NCT U or SM Entertainment in any shape or form. This is simply a chatbot made purely for entertainment only. No speech or actions here portray the real person whatsoever, and all backstories and plotlines are complete works of fiction.

This chatbot deals heavily with dark and potentially triggering content such as murder, blood, violence, gore, mild to strong language, torture, deaths, police, stalking, psychopathic tendencies and serial killers. If triggered by any of the aforementioned topics, do consider treading through carefully if at all. Every triggering post will be tagged accordingly, so do filter the tags for maximum comfort.

𝐏𝐥𝐨𝐭𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬

𝑱𝒖𝒅𝒈𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒂 𝑩𝒐𝒐𝒌 𝒃𝒚 𝑰𝒕'𝒔 𝑪𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒓

You've always had a thing for the blue haired photography major at your university. With his charming smile and seemingly perfect personality, it didn't come as a surprise that he's stolen the hearts of almost everyone on campus. After a chance encounter of you, very embarassingly might I add— tripping over your own feet right in front of him and sending the both of you tumbling to the ground, you slowly grew closer. But the seemingly flawless friendship you've developed just had to be destroyed, during one walk home after a late night convenience store run one day when you heard some muffled screaming coming from the nearby alley. With curiosity getting the best of you, you decide to be a good samaritan and check. What will you do once you witness the horror that was Jaemin hunched over the lifeless body of a man, carving his heart out of his chest?

Plot code : 02001

𝑲𝒊𝒍𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝑺𝒕𝒂𝒍𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈

As a police officer working under the Violent Crimes Unit, you're certainly no stranger to serial killers and horrifying crime scenes. Having solved countless of cases before, your entire life gets turned upside down when the Blue Reaper makes his debut as a new serial killer. You and your team have been chasing after him for months, following a multitude of leads and countless of clues but always ending up empty handed. While you're out here getting no sleep trying to formulate a plan to catch him, unbeknownst to you, he's already had his attention caught. Intrigued by none other than yourself. He's been stalking you, wether it be getting off from work, on the crime scene or even in your own home. It's a mystery to everyone including himself as to why he's so enamoured, but one thing's for sure. He's obsessed. And after you wake up once in the middle of the night and find him watching you sleep from a dark corner of your room, will you accept his morally contradicting attraction? Or will you choose to do what's normally right and take advantage of his obsession to turn him in?

Plot code : 02002

𝑻𝒘𝒊𝒄𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝑫𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒓, 𝑻𝒘𝒊𝒄𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝑭𝒖𝒏

The ever bustling and lively city, the capital itself, Seoul has always been your hunting grounds. You preyed on the unsuspecting under the cover of the night, making a name for yourself through multiple killings that always leave the authorities frustrated at each failed attempt of arrest. One night, you had been following after a male in a dark hoodie, certain to yourself that you've found the next prey to add to your ever growing record. But what would happen when the victim you'd have pinned against the wall of a dark downtown alleyway brandishes his own knife at you? What will you do, once you've caught the infamous Blue Reaper himself?

Plot code : 02003

𝐑𝐮𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐈𝐧𝐟𝐨

⤷ Keep messages that are sent between 1-4 only. Any more than that and you will be given a warning due to it being classified as spam.

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⤷ Roleplaying, with Y/Ns especially, will be kept SFW. Although admin is of age, I simply don't have the energy to keep adding smut into my roleplays anymore, and that privilege of NSFW will be reserved for only those that Jaemin trusts (eg: his s/o(s)). Suggestive content, however, is still acceptable as long as the threshold of admin's boundaries is not crossed.

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⤷ Chats that have been left unanswered for more than a week's time with no prior note will be terminated. If ever you return after the chat has been terminated then you may restart your roleplay with Jaemin, but keep in mind that it will be reverted back to a clean slate.

⤷ Please note that Jaemin is likely to be poly in relationships, which means that he is open to taking on two or more partners at a time. This however, does not mean that you as an s/o are obliged to pursue a romantic relationship with his other s/os at all as DM interactions are still kept as 1 on 1. Before confirming of a relationship, details will be discussed privately.

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(𝐃𝐞) 𝐀𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

To activate, simply reblog the activation post and DM with your;

Name / Nickname / Name that you'd like to be addressed as

Age

(optional due to roleplays being mainly SFW. But you're encouraged to still drop it just so admin can determine what can or can not be done. This info will not be shared to others at any cost.)

Pronouns

(he/his , she/her , they/them)

Triggers

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Admin's timezone is GMT+8

Chosen or Created Plotline [Plot code : 02004]

(If you've decided to come up with your own plotline and are struggling with it, that's alright! Just let us know your idea and Admin will gladly help you create one that's suitable and fits your liking!)

Once you've completed the steps above, Admin will recheck and have some inquiries just to confirm before your roleplay will start!

Please note that admin may not be able to reply everyday consistently due to her own responsibilities in daily life. Admin rps in lit (literate) : actions “dialogue” and is open to all 1st, 2nd and 3rd Person POV.

To deactivate, there will be two options present for you.

Simply ignore Jaemin for a week with no note of leave or reasoning and you will automatically be removed from the roleplay list.

Or

Ensuring that both you and Jaemin are in a stable and safe environment, tell him “I'm done with you and your sick lifestyle. I'm reporting you to the authorities.” and he will take your life, thus ending the roleplay.

Keep it mind that there is a probability of you being killed during roleplay. When that happens, admin will inquire wether or not you'd like to restart the roleplay and you'll be given the opportunity to choose a new plotline and work towards your next ending.

𝕳𝖆𝖛𝖊 𝖋𝖚𝖓 𝖜𝖎𝖙𝖍 𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝕭𝖑𝖚𝖊 𝕽𝖊𝖆𝖕𝖊𝖗~

[joonapeach]

skylines (nj)

college!au, where namjoon openly chases you and you love running from those advances. that is, until everyone in your architecture department finds out you’re the daughter of the man behind the biggest architecture firm in the country. 

alternatively... namjoon is a simp for you until he’s suddenly not 

author’s note: sometimes i just wanna write for the fun of it and not take life so seriously so this is what i churned out. 8.8k words of some minor pining and mini character development for our oc because tbh, being a student sucks and you get so caught up in your insecurity sometimes

also reposted on ao3

[this is fluff and light-hearted, with a bit of a rivalry trope, 8.8k words]

You love skylines.

From when you were six years old with short legs, you remember craning your neck up high to see each building that surrounded you. At that age, the world seemed big and you seemed small but you loved it. You loved seeing the world build and function around you. 

From then on outwards began your decades-long relationship with your first love - buildings. 

Well, you called it buildings and your father called it architecture. You were the daughter of his dreams, his proclaimed legacy. What luck I have, he would say, that I have a daughter who will grow up to work beside me.

Growing up, those comments were your food for the day. You would eat up his encouragements and cheers throughout high school, serving him back your high grades on a gold platter.

This is the way you’ve worked through your past nineteen years. It’s a little basic, maybe, but you’ve operated on your father’s ambition for you. 

But like all good things, even that seemed to come to an end. Since entering university and embarking on your path as an architecture major, the once comforting encouragement has slowly changed to a choking chain around you.

You’ve learnt a lot in two semesters at university. You’ve learnt how to finish assignments the night before, how to memorize historical names and dates minutes before an exam, you’ve learnt how fun it can be to be with your friends.

But most of all, you’ve learnt that… you’re not special. 

You’re surrounded by overachievers, all like you, all perhaps better than you in some way. You’re the daughter of the man behind HN Architects, but some of your classmates look like they’re on their way to the top of the chain.

You always thought you deserved your seat, your privilege, because you’d worked for it. These days, it doesn’t seem much like that. And you worry that your father is thinking the very same thing.

Let’s finish this assignment, you sigh, there’s not much left. Let’s do it, you give yourself a pep talk, fighting back a yawn at the practically empty library before dawn.

Books crash down on your table, right beside you. You shake, being pulled so abruptly out of your reverie. Although maybe you should be thankful, for the sleep that was threatening your productivity seems to have run away from the sound. 

“Excuse me,” you scoff loudly, making your presence known to the disturbance.

From above the tower of books on the desk, peeks out a familiar dimpled smile. His eyes glint with mischief and despite the early hours of the day, his face reads no exhaustion.

“You’re excused.” 

You groan. “There’s an entire empty library, you can only sit here?”

“Studying is more fun with company,” he retorts with a grin.

“It’s studying. It’s not meant to be fun,” you reply, hostile. “Didn’t I tell you to stop showing up in front of me with no purpose?’

He smiles again, confidently with his eyes unmoving from you. It’s almost unnerving, how much you see Namjoon smile in front of you. Architecture students are not meant to be this happy. They aren’t meant to carry a warm smile everywhere they go, looking at people with such attentive intensity.

“I haven’t shown up without a purpose though,” he says. “I came to ask for help with the assignment.” 

This time, you smile. But your smile is one of disbelief and amusement.

“Yes, that’s very believable, Namjoon,” you cock a brow. “You’re the one finishing assignments a week early and screwing up the curve for everyone but I’m sure I could help you with whatever you need.”

He grins, taking a seat next to you. “Hey, sometimes even I need help,” he replies but then pauses. “Ah, you’re right. I should’ve gone with coming to offer you help. That’s a lot more believable.”

“I don’t need your help,” you argue. “Stop showing up in front of me. And stop subtly flexing in front of me. It’s nauseating.”

He throws his head back and laughs. He looks so happy that it almost stirs a scary, fluttering feeling in your stomach. “You should be the last person to feel jealous of me, _____.”

You glare at him. “Yeah, because I’m the one who threatens your ranking?”

He shakes his head. “No, because I would help you with everything if you just asked.”

You still, for a moment. His words lull over in your head and they feel a bit weird. Your major is competitive and cut-throat, even if it doesn’t appear it. To you, Namjoon is your biggest rival, your biggest worry because you can never match up to him.

“Well, I’m not asking you for a thing. Is there really nothing you stress over?”

“No, there is. I just don’t cry over my textbook the nights before exams.”

“That was one time,” you mumble, infuriated. “And I had every right to be crying that night. It was the hardest exam that term and I have big shoes to fill. I can’t afford to be bothering people, like you,” you say with an intentional offense.

He takes none. “Big shoes? Who’s putting expectations on you?”

“Just some family. Stop being nosy,” you say swiftly. “And you didn’t even tell me. What do you stress over?”

He pauses, not giving a response for a moment. You wonder if it’s because there’s really nothing he stresses over. You wouldn’t be surprised if that was the case. While you and your friends have all cracked under the pressure of your degree, you especially with the added burden of your father… Namjoon has not once shown signs of struggle. He walks through life with that smile every day.

“Finding work,” he says after a while.

“Huh?”

He meets your eyes. “You asked me what I worry about. I worry about finding work when I graduate,” he says sincerely.

You bite back a rude laugh. “Please, Namjoon. Get real,” you roll your eyes. “You really think you can worry about that? You were the top of our class all last year.”

You don’t do a good job of hiding your envy, but it’s beyond you to care at this point. You’ve become this person now. The one who seeks everything out of their number on the paper.

“But I don’t have any connections. I come from a village, practically, as you like to call it,” he says with a chuckle. It stings you a little, he’s referring to the time you and your friends had put him down out of jealousy with those words. But he doesn’t say it like it bothers him. He says it like it’s true. 

“So?” you say, looking away from him and back on your sheet. “You don’t always need connections.”

“Not always, but a lot of the time,” he shrugs.

“Any company who takes a look at your record and speaks to you for five minutes would want you, Namjoon,” you exhale, knowing your words are 100% true. You think about your father, about HN Architects. Namjoon’s the kind of guy who your father wouldn’t think twice about hiring. He’s the epitome of someone who could fill any shoes you gave him.

You scoff bitterly. “Wait a second. Why am I comforting you right now? You’re a success story in the making,” you snap and he laughs, even though you didn’t intend it to be a joke. “You should be comforting me, you idiot. I don’t even know if I’ll have Mr. Labadee’s assignment done in time for submission!”

He puts his hands up. “Okay, okay, don’t worry. Why do you think I’m here?” he looks away, still smiling as he takes the pencil from your hand and moves closer to the sheet.

“What?” you say, watching the way his eyebrows furrow and his eyes scan the paper. He’s losing himself in the sheet now, and it feels like watching a prodigy at work. You picture this is what it would feel like to watch Bill Gates code on a computer before he formally started his career or watching The Beatles pen a song before they made it big. 

“Hm?”

“Did you come here for me?” you ask and for a split second, you see his eyes shift. “Did Chae tell you I was here?”

He doesn’t respond, instead focusing on the assignment. “Your calculation is wrong here. Look,” he says, pointing at a section. As he explains your mistake, you smile satisfied. 

He doesn’t need to admit it. You two have gone through this very situation so many times now, that you both know it’s true. Namjoon always comes for you.

/

You have kept your background, your family, extremely private since joining university.

In high school, you made the mistake of letting people know that you were the daughter of HN Architects. It resulted in years of people smooching up to you, gossiping behind your back, mean assumptions, and just a general nightmare.

That nightmare would only multiply if your friends here found out about it. They were all architect majors, all in the same cut-throat degree, and you came from privilege. 

It scared you, knowing what could happen if they ever found out. You begged your family to make sure that nothing would tie you to them here, keeping your name different on the registrar, not publishing photos of you in the paper. You couldn’t risk all the friends and relationships you made. Even if they said things won’t change, you know they would. They always do.

“I need to sleep for 10 years,” you mumble, falling on your bed. 

“Fuck this, I wish I was you right now,” Chae cries from her side of the room. “I’ve got one more submission.”

“I woke up at 4 to finish it so you should be fine,” you laugh, looking at her. “And did you send Namjoon to me?”

Chae fights a smile on her face. You sigh, knowing you’ve opened Pandora's box.

“He came to me asking about you last night. I told him you were sleeping, but you’d be at the library at 5 working on the assignment,” she smirks cheekily. “Why, did he come?” she asks, not hiding the overly inquisitive edge to her question.

You say nothing, deciding to turn on your laptop.

“He did!” she screams and your eyes widen, telling her to be quiet. “Sorry! I just can’t help it. That’s so sweet,” she squeals.

“Stop sending him after me. You’re encouraging him.”

“You’re encouraging him!” she counters. “You let him help you with your assignment, didn’t you?”

“Yes, but-”

“And you showed up at his dorm last week for notes, didn’t you?”

“Okay, but-”

“And you told him off for helping Eun like four days ago, remember?”

“Chae,” you stop her, sternly. “Have you lost your mind? Don’t you realize what all those things have in common?”

“They all are evidence of the fact that you reciprocate his year-long courtship?”

You roll your eyes. “No, idiot. All these things are work-related. I can’t afford to be falling behind, and I need his help.”

“Okay, but you were jealous of Eun-”

“I was annoyed that he was helping other people score higher! The last thing I need right now is the lazy kids of the class becoming my competition too,” you complain, grumbling.

Chae stares you down. “_____, not everything is about your degree,” she says light-heartedly, but you know your statement bothers her. 

Exhaling, you shut your eyes. You hate it when conversations come to this. Sometimes, you wish you could just tell people which family you came from. Maybe it would do them good, to make them realize that yes, for you, everything is about your degree. Everything in your life revolves around being successful in this path. 

You were cynical but at least you were real. You admitted things the way they were, when competition was competition, you said it, and when you needed something, you asked for it. That made it okay, you told yourself.

And when it comes to Namjoon… it’s especially okay. He’s both the only reason you’re hanging on okay in your degree, and the reason you feel insecure. You wonder how it can be that someone like him exists.

“Anyways, are you really gonna leave talking about Joon there?” Chae scoffs. “He’s liked you since we started. You really won’t do anything about it?”

“Namjoon is nothing but another classmate that stresses me out, Chae. I don’t see him that way. I just like his work ethic.”

Chae laughs. “You’re so skewed, honestly. Are you busy tomorrow?”

“Why, are you planning on ratting me out to him again?”

“No, silly,” she laughs, although you both know it’s likely she’d do it again. “Let’s go to the Autumn fair tomorrow. After I submit.”

“The fair? You mean those three stalls they set up and call it an event?”

She frowns. “Don’t be mean. Hobi and the others have really been working hard on it this year. It’ll be nicer than the last, I promise.”

“As long as there are at least 10 booths this year.”

“You’re too mean for your own good, _____,” she says, tsk-ing. “One day, you’ll see what it’s like to be on the other end.”

/

Your overactive imagination always paints a skyline for you, where there’s an empty space. You can always picture different styles of buildings, standing together, making a city. 

It’s at times like those you realize that even if you wanted to give up, even if you tried to pursue something else, your heart will always come back to this. There is nothing more that belonged to you than this.

Even if it’d become difficult now, it didn’t matter. It became a source of worry more than an outlet of passion, but it’s still your calling. You can’t give up on something you love this much.

“Your toffee apple is dripping,” you hear his voice before you see him.

You want to turn and snap at him but the sticky toffee syrup that falls onto your fingers stops you.

“Ugh,” you groan, trying to fix it. Namjoon’s hand comes out with a tissue, quickly wiping your fingers without a word. Even after he’s done, the sticky feeling remains. “I should just throw this away.”

He laughs. “Let’s get candy corn.”

“No, thanks, I have to go find Chae and Yuna.”

Even though you step away, you hear his footsteps almost immediately behind you. 

“What’s the rush?” he says, catching up beside you. When you two walk together like this, his tall figure towers over in a way that makes you feel small. “Shouldn’t you offer to buy me candy corn? Did you forget how I helped you at 5 in the morning two days ago for Professor Labadee’s class?”

“You chose to wake up at that time, not me,” you say, keeping your eyes trained ahead. You weren’t expecting much from this fair, but the students had done well. Bright fairy lights decorate the lamp posts around you and along the long path, dozens of stalls are set up. It all feels a little bit like a movie.

“As long as you got it done,” he says under his breath. You dare to take a glimpse of him and inhale sharply. He’s wearing his smile, he always is, but the fairy lights reflect on his face, illuminating him like an angel. Everything about him feels good.

You look away almost immediately. “Stop following me Namjoon,” you say, stopping at a trinkets stall and smiling at the girl behind the table.

“But I like seeing you outside of architecture things,” he grins confidently.

You opt to ignore him, asking the price of something that catches your eye.

He cranes his neck to see what it is. “Want me to get it for you?”

You quickly counter. “Absolutely not,” you say, handing over your money notes. 

“You’re really buying an ornament of buildings?” he cocks a brow. “Don’t you want something like this instead?” he picks up a small snow globe, shaking it so the snow moves. The globe is miniscule to begin with, but you notice how in his hands, it looks almost tiny.

“What can I say? I like buildings.”

He smiles. “More than people, maybe.”

You sigh, ignoring his statement. Once you get the paper bag with your purchase inside, you keep walking ahead. You count to three before you hear his footsteps mimic yours.

“I’ll buy you candy corn, then you leave me alone,” you turn to say to him. “It’s not good that you’re always showing up where I am.”

He nods like an obedient puppy. Then he frowns and asks, “why is it not good?”

When you don’t respond, focusing on walking to the candy booth, he adds, “is it not good for you? Getting attached to me now?”

You don’t have to see his face to know he’s doing his goofy smile again. “It’s not good for you to keep going through these many rejections in a lifetime.”

He laughs, your words not bothering him the slightest. Standing in front of the candy booth, Jungkook and Jae, two of your architect classmates greet you.

“Hey Joon! Aw, you two hanging out again?” Jae smiles widely as if he’s in some big secret. You roll your eyes, not saying a word but pointing to the candy corn.

“_____ is treating me to candy corn. Isn’t she sweet?”

“I’m not treating you out of kindness, I’m doing it so you feel compensated for your efforts with my assignment.” 

Jungkook and Jae share an amused look that you almost miss. Shuffling through your pocket, you start counting the money to give. As you hand over the money to Jae, Jungkook places a brown paper bag in Namjoon’s hands.

“You two enjoy yourselves,” Jungkook beams brightly.

You scoff. “Is there really such a thing as enjoyment when I have him on my tail?” 

Without bidding them a proper goodbye, you walk away from the stall, leaving the three standing. Like clockwork, Namjoon is beside you again.

“Here,” he says, and suddenly the bag of candy corn is in your hands.

You raise a brow. “What are you giving this to me for? You were the one who wanted it.”

“You were eating a sad, overpriced toffee apple. This should be for you too.”

“Namjoon.” You give him a look, but he pays no mind. 

Without saying anything more, you two walk together in silence. It didn’t intend to be this way, but it feels nice now. You feel good that you were dragged out of a cycle of the bedroom to the classroom to the library for once.

Of course, it’s weird that amidst all this, Namjoon is the one beside you. Usually, when you see him, your mind wanders to the place that curses him for being everything you wish you were. But tonight, you’re laying off those thoughts.

Staring at the crowd around the speakers, you two pause for a bit. You see Chae and Yuna, along with your other coursemates all together.

Still beside you, Namjoon speaks out of the blue. “Why don’t you call me Joon?”

“What do you mean? I didn’t realize I was required to,” you shrug at the random question. “I don’t know you like that.”

“Everyone in our class calls me Joon. Even your group member who I met that one time is calling me Joon,” he argues. “You know me better than all those people. If anything, you should be the only one.”

“What are you on about? I don’t know you at all,” you throw a blank look his way. “And don’t argue that we spend a lot of time together. You follow me around and show up where I am. That’s not spending time together.”

“We’re spending time together right now, aren’t we?” 

“It’s a first. Don’t get used to it.”

He laughs as if your cold remarks are something affectionate. “I don’t think I really could get used to seeing you outside the library, _____. You’re there more than me and I’m always studying too.”  

You scoff cynically. “Are you flexing your rank again on me?”

“_____, if I cared so much about my rank, I wouldn’t be helping you with work all the time,” he laughs, amused.

“I don’t know. Maybe helping me is all part of your plan to keep beating me,” you say. “Isn’t this just a power move? You always showing up to help me.”

He laughs again before his stare stills on you. His eyes are bright and sparkling… or is it just the effect of the stupid fairy lights? You can hardly tell.

Despite yourself, it all makes your stomach drop. You hate it when Namjoon shows up unannounced in your life, but more than that, you hate it when he gives you this kind of look. Like he can’t look anywhere else but at you.

“More than a power move, it’s just a gesture for you.”

The fluttering feeling worsens and you blink. You choose to say nothing, instead staring ahead at the view. “That is the ugliest building I’ve ever seen.”

For a second, he smiles but it doesn’t reach his eyes. Eventually, he humors you. “It’s not all that bad.”

“In my professional opinion as a future architect, that is the exact type of building I would want to bulldoze.”

“Well, in my professional opinion as another future architect, I’d say your standards are far too high.”

“I’m allowed to keep my standards high. It’s me,” you smile with a glint in your eye.

He laughs, staring at you softly. “That I can agree with.”

You taunt him playfully. “You’re so predictable. Does it not get tiring hanging off my every word?”

He shakes his head loyally. “Absolutely not. I think everything you say is valuable and worth hanging off.”

“How lame,” you joke although you two share a smile. It’s true, he is a little predictable. But it’s Namjoon’s predictability that at times, catches you off guard. It’s fun, knowing that he’s two steps behind you wherever you are.

A warm feeling stirs in your body and you wonder if it’s the autumn air. Glancing up at Namjoon, the same air ruffles his hair endearingly and you tear yourself away from staring at it.

“I’m only gonna say it once so if there’s any word of mine you wanna hang off, it’s this,” you say before shoving the bag of candy corn back into his hands. “Power move or not, thanks for helping me. I really need it sometimes and I appreciate it.”

The grin on his face widens. “One more time, I didn’t hang off it enough!”

“I told you, only one time.”

“But the music was so loud, I couldn’t hear you well.”

“Too bad.”

“Come on, _____, take pity on me.”

“Shut up and eat your candy corn.”

/

You find yourself quickly back in your routine after the Autumn fair, working on new assignments and projects till your worst nightmare comes to life unexpectedly.

“Please be on time, _____!” Chae repeats to you for the fifth time that morning.

“Chae, I’ll be there. I’ll literally run from the design building to the auditorium, okay?”

She clicks her tongue at you. “Stop acting like you’re doing me a favor by showing up. You should be excited.”

“I am. But… I mean, do we really need this kind of random assembly for our architecture department?” you groan, slipping your laptop into its case. “Can’t they just give us the extra time to work on our homework?”

“But there’ll be companies there!” she retorts, wide-eyed and excited. “Just imagine. This is like those movies, where they come and scout students and then bam, life is sorted.”

You nod, forcing a smile. You remember your privilege, knowing your worry has never once been finding work but living up to the work that was set out for you. But you could never explain that here. How could you cry about the burden that kept you so troubled when it was a burden any one of your friends would happily want?

“Okay. I’ll see you there,” you settle for a wave, walking out to leave. You rush with your bag on your back to your classroom, immersed in your lesson till the hour finishes up.

For the moments after class finishes, your mind is blank. You’re going over your homework in your head, packing your things and your eyes widen. The meeting. You almost forgot.

True to your words, you actually do end up running from the design building to the auditorium. Sprinting from your class to the auditorium proves to be a harder workout than you anticipated and your heart can’t stop racing.

Stepping inside the auditorium, you jump into the first empty seat you see at the entrance.

“Where is she?” you mumble under your breath. Your eyes shift around the room, looking for a familiar head of short black hair. Catching sight of Chae, you wave to her but she doesn’t notice you at all. Instead, she’s busy talking to a group of students all from your year.

Everyone’s sat together, cozy and comfortable in a conversation together. You can even see Namjoon in the row above Chae, chatting energetically. Your heart strangely pangs.

Sometimes, seeing everyone like this, everyone from your major and year together, made you feel more like an outsider than anything. At first, you’d chalked it up to be because of your obsession with studying and academics… but students better than you, students like Namjoon and Mina, all seemed to be doing fine. 

In the end, you realized it isn’t anything to do with that. You feel like an outsider because you are one. You’ve tried your hardest to blend in, but the fact remains that you feel alone in the problems you have. You’ve kept your identity as the daughter of HN Architects a secret, you’ve kept your family pressures a secret… Now you’re alone in the burden of your struggles.

Sometimes, you’ve thought about opening up. But the thought terrifies you even more.

If you felt so alone while keeping the truth of your ambitions a secret… there’d be no telling what kind of way your friends would treat you after finding out.

“We’re lucky enough to have… here’s a representative from Canvas Corp… looking for fresh talent… Yongchan Architecture…” you’re hardly paying attention to the speakers on stage till you finally hear, “and most fortunately, the chairman of HN Architects!”

Your head shoots up so fast that it almost flies off. No fucking way.

Your father is smiling on the stage, wearing a crisp suit and greeting the architecture department heads. Without realizing it, your body cowers back into your seat as you see his eyes scan the auditorium. He must be looking for you - his daughter.

His daughter that not a single soul in this room knew was you.

Your heart goes into panic mode before you try to calm yourself down. Relax, you mutter repeatedly to yourself although it’s less effective than you thought it’d be.

Your eyes dance between your father on stage and your group of friends with Chae sitting seats away from you. Neither of them have noticed you.

Instead, your classmates are all watching your father with starstruck eyes. They’re staring at your father like he’s their idol.

Well, objectively, maybe he could be. After all, you admire your father for the very same reason every architecture student does - your father is a legend. His company has one of the best reputations in the country, which feeds your pride, and he’s nothing short of a hard-working, inspiring man.

Namjoon, in particular, is staring at your father like he can’t believe his eyes. It’s a look you’ve never seen from him before. Like he’s both nervous and thinks he’s in a dream. It’s almost endearing.

“To celebrate having the chairman of HN Architects with us today, we’ll have him say a few words!” Mr. Lim, the head of the architecture department, announces enthusiastically into the mic. He turns to your father, “do you mind?”

“Not at all!” your father grins, taking the mic before starting. “It’s my pleasure to be here today! In fact, seeing all of you reminds me of my own days as an architecture student…”

He trails off into a long speech, excitedly. You’ve been witness to every single one of your father’s inspirational speeches since the day you were born so you fight back a yawn. On the contrary, your classmates look like they’re hanging onto every single word.

As your father paces across the stage, he inches towards your side. You blink in panic, bending down but before you know it, it’s too late. His eyes sparkle with joy.

You almost worry he’s gonna wave at you mid-speech. But he doesn’t, simply shooting an overly friendly smile your way. You sneak a glance at your classmates and they’re all giving you a strange look - one that most definitely reads what the heck is he smiling at you for?

Meeting Chae’s eyes in particular, you give an awkward smile and shrug. Soon enough, your father turns to the side and you finally think you can breathe.

“That’s why I’d like to encourage you all to live up to your potential! The world is changing around you as you know it and as future architects, you can be a part of that,” your father enthusiastically continues. His eyes are on you again. “And this is what I tell my beautiful daughter everyday! She loves skylines, my dear _____, and she’s going to be a wonderful architect too!”

My life is officially over.

A little dramatic but that exact thought crosses your mind as you duck into your seat. You think you hear the collective gasp around the auditorium or maybe your ears are playing tricks on you.

No, it’s probably as bad you think it is. Your father’s called you out by name and exposed your identity that you worked so hard to conceal. Your life is quite literally over.

Oblivious to your misery, your father grins happily on stage. He returns the mic to Mr. Lim before stepping to the side. The rest of the assembly goes by without you realizing. You’re still numb to the fact of what just happened.

You risk a glance at your classmates, and in cliche movie fashion, they’re all staring at you with mouths gaping wide open. Every single one of them.

Your neck heats up and you quickly turn around. But curiosity gets the best of you a few minutes later, and you risk looking again.

They’re still staring at you in shock. Like they can’t believe their eyes.

Chae especially is looking at you with hurt flashing across her face. It squeezes at your heart and you feel overcome with guilt for lying to your friend for a year. You don’t dare to imagine what she’s thinking now.

Without realizing, your eyes travel over to Namjoon. Much to your surprise, he’s not looking at you. He’s the only one with his eyes looking ahead blankly, deep in thought.

You frown, evading everyone’s stares to focus on him. An unrecognizable emotion is written all over his face… is it realization? Regret? Embarrassment?

You can hardly tell. But for the first time, an uncomfortable feeling plunges in your stomach at the fact that Namjoon’s not looking at you.

/

“Dad!” you cry. “How could you do that?”

Your father smiles happily at the sight of you, the two of you standing outside the auditorium in a secluded, private spot. The torture, that was the assembly, has finally come to an end.

“What do you mean?” he answers in confusion. “Do you mean showing up here? Because I was invited by that Mr. Lim fellow, he-”

“Not that!” you whine, groaning into your palms. “I’m talking about saying I’m your daughter in front of the whole architecture department!”

His eyebrows shoot up. “Oh, that? What did I do wrong?”

Your jaw drops. “Dad, are you being serious?”

He nods, clear puzzlement on his face.

“Don’t you remember? I specifically asked for you and Mom to make sure that it never gets out!” you say. “Now, you’ve told everyone I go to college with that I’m the daughter of the man behind HN Architects!”

He blinks for a few seconds. “Is that so wrong?” he almost pouts like a child. “I didn’t know it was such a problem.”

“Of course, it is! Why do you think I asked you not to tell anyone?”

“...I thought you were being modest.”

“Modest?!” you exclaim, before sighing. There’s no use berating your father. It’s no one’s fault but your own for not preparing better for this situation.

“Did you really not want anyone to find out?”

You nod weakly.

“Why not?”

“I… I can’t explain it. They’ll freak out,” you look down. You can’t imagine how much worse your stress is gonna get from now on - it isn’t enough that your own title of the daughter of HN Architects is choking you to death… now you’ll have to deal with every single one of your classmates doing the same thing.

Things will never be the same again. For every grade you get, it’ll be discussed as the grade of the HN Architects’ daughter. For every drawing or idea you’ll submit, it’ll be scrutinized as the work of a girl from privilege. The pressure would multiply infinitely. 

“Oh dear, don’t be silly,” your father suddenly says, resting his hand on your head. “I’m sorry for that. I didn’t realize it was so serious to you. But even if they know, it’s not an issue. You’re an excellent student and it’s only right they pay you the respect as the future CEO of HN Architects.”

You shoot your father a smile but your stomach drops. “I guess so, thanks,” you mumble, unable to explain to him that it’s exactly what he said that terrifies you. 

For the rest of the day, you hide out off-campus in hopes to avoid facing reality.

/

“_____, I think you need to pay for the emotional shock you gave us,” Hobi laughs at the lunch table as soon as you arrive.

Hesitantly, you sit beside Chae who doesn’t share a word with you. Since yesterday, you haven’t even made eye contact with her, despite being her roommate. 

“I think I almost spat out my water when I heard my daughter,” Mina jokes and the table echoes in laughter. You smile awkwardly.

“Yeah… it’s not really a big deal,” you shrug.

“Not a big deal?! Hello! We’re talking to the next HN Architects CEO right now!” another student pipes up.

“_____, forgive me for all I did wrong last semester,” Yuri playfully adds.

“I think we need to be cleaning the floor for her to walk on!”

These statements all fly around the table, exchanged with laughs and smiles. Part of you cowers in the attention, uncomfortable by such blatant recognition of your upbringing.

Another part of you wonders… will things be okay?

You take a careful look around the table of your classmates. Not a single one seems to wear a glare, all sharing in jokes and smiles. For the strangest reason… you feel at ease.

Chae suddenly stands up, with her tray. “I’m done eating. I’ll see you guys later.”

Instantly, you mimic her and chase behind her retreating figure. “Wait Chae-”

“I have class right now-”

Like a child, you jump in front of her to block her path. “Okay, please just hear me out,” you say, pouting. “I’m sorry.”

She sighs. “What are you sorry for? It’s not a big deal.”

“You must feel… annoyed, right?”

Chae blinks at you. “I’ll admit, I was irritated at first. You come from such privilege and I’ve unloaded so much crap on you sometimes about being scared about post-college life while you never had that… but, I’m not really mad about that. You can’t help who you are, right?”

You nod. “You’re still mad at me though, aren’t you? For hiding it?”

She takes a second before replying, “I just… you’re so unreachable sometimes, _____. After I found out, I kind of realized why you’re so stressed all the time and what you meant whenever you alluded to things about your pressures and all… I’m just annoyed you never shared that part of you.”

“I’m sorry.”

For the first time since yesterday, Chae cracks a smile. “Don’t be sorry. I just want you to be more open with me. You don’t need to feel like you need to hide your background… I would’ve tried to understand either way.”

Her words soothe you more than you can explain. Since entering your major, you haven’t once relied on the people around you for support that wasn’t academic. Now, you’re realizing your fatal flaw.

“I’ll try to be better,” you say with a nod. “Thank you for not being mad at me.”

She laughs. “Anyway, you don’t need to worry about me,” she says with a glance elsewhere. “You should check up on him. He’s been spooked since yesterday.”

You turn on your heel to see Namjoon, walking around with the same strange expression on his face from the assembly. For a brief second, your eyes meet but the second flashes, and he quickly looks away.

“Did you see that?!” you scoff. “He just ignored me!”

Chae smiles. “Wow, there really is a first for everything.”

“What’s with him?” you say, watching his awkward walk in your opposite direction. He keeps glancing in your direction, but once he sees you staring at him, he swiftly looks away. It’s a completely new side to him. 

“I don’t know,” Chae shrugs. “He’s being weird. I thought he’d be running after you like always, but he’s resorted to this.”

You scoff again, unfamiliar with this Namjoon who runs away from you, rather than to you. You wonder what’s running through his mind, before pushing the thought away. He’s bound to come after you again after a few days.

/

The confidence with which you assumed Namjoon would be all over you again is faltering.

It’s been a full week since the assembly, and while life has seemingly gone back to normal for you (as normal as things can be)... Namjoon certainly has not.

In classes, he picks the furthest seat away on purpose. You even started to tease him by trying to sit in his front row with him, but instead, you found him in the back row - where he can’t even see. 

His lunches seem to be perfectly timed to not clash with yours. All of a sudden, he’s no longer in the library either. All the places you’d easily find Namjoon hovering over you, he’s disappeared from.

“Does he think this is effective?!” you rant to Chae in your dorm room. “That by suddenly ignoring me, I’ll become obsessed with him?!”

Chae smiles at you knowingly. “I don’t know… if that was his plan to begin with, I’d say it’s pretty effective-”

“Shut up, Chae! I’m just saying this is all so stupid!” you scoff. “Once or twice is fine but he’s actively avoiding me! He saw me in the library yesterday and acted like he forgot a book to leave! We were in the library for god’s sake! What book did he forget that he couldn’t find there?!”

Chae giggles like the situation is laugh-worthy. “Maybe he’s just busy.”

“He made time during final exams last year to bother me. How much busier could he be than he was then?”

“Or maybe he doesn’t want to distract you.”

“It’s not that for sure. Whenever I’d tell him that he’s distracting me before, he wouldn’t care,” you mumble under your breath annoyedly. Chae continues to grin at your behavior, as if your reaction were amusing.

You don’t say it to her but you know very well why you’re annoyed beyond relief. It’s because you know it’s to do with finding out about HN Architects.

You groan. You expected your classmates to be weird around you, maybe even your professors… but Namjoon was the last person you thought would suddenly make a 180 after learning about your family.

That’s why it’s aggravating. Because it’s the one thing you didn’t think he’d care about.

A part of you fears he’s realized just how pathetic you are. After all, Namjoon probably knows how much more promising he is compared to you and now… he had to sit with the fact that you were the daughter of HN Architects.

“Why don’t you just approach him yourself?”

You’re momentarily stunned by Chae’s suggestion. You shoot her a dirty glare.

“What?!”

“I’m not gonna chase after Namjoon! He should approach me himself!”

Chae looks at you like you’re crazy. “You’re the one who wants him to talk to you!”

“Exactly! He should come to me like he always does.”

A laugh escapes Chae’s lips. “Oh, _____… you don’t even realize it, do you?”

You cock a brow before shaking your head. “I don’t have time for your indirect dialogue. I’m just saying that if Namjoon doesn’t come to me and talk this out soon, I’m gonna have to do something very crazy.”

Chae’s eyes flicker with amusement. “Oh? And what’s that?”

You grimace, as if even saying it brings you humiliation. “I’m gonna go talk to him first.”

Chae bursts out laughing, despite your solemn expression. You brush her off, spending the rest of the night on your design homework but secretly planning on wringing Namjoon’s throat if he doesn’t go back to normal soon.

/

By now, you’re sure Namjoon can feel the daggers you’re shooting into his back.

He’s even risked turning back a few times, to see who’s glaring at him. But as soon as your eyes meet, his head spins around as if it were all in your head. He focuses on the professor teaching ahead of him, taking notes diligently.

Beside you, Chae says with a nudge, “so are you gonna do that very crazy thing you were planning?”

You ignore her for the sake of gritting your teeth. Usually, you have no trouble focusing in classes. It’s all because of this wretched situation that you’re so off-game.

As soon as the professor wraps up his powerpoint, you’re faster than anyone else in the class at packing up your things and zooming out the door. You don’t even bid Chae goodbye.

You tap your foot impatiently, staring directly at your target. 

Namjoon… try and ignore me now.

Hooking his bag over his shoulder, Namjoon comes to the door of the classroom before stopping his tracks. Aha, you smile pleased.

“Ah, I just forgot… to talk about my assignment with Mr. Choi,” he mutters out loud to no one in particular. The acting is so terrible that you don’t even have to think about it to know he’s intending it for you to hear.

You march up to him. “No, you don’t,” you scoff and when he looks up at the ceiling, you jump like an infant calling for attention. “Namjoon, if you value your life, you’re gonna drop this act right now,” you say in a menacing voice. 

Immediately, he gulps and looks down at you. His height towers over yours but you smile, knowing you’ve gained the upper hand here. He’s looking at you just as he did before - completely enamoured.

You say nothing but give a deadly gesture to follow you. He obeys without complaint.

When you two are finally in a spot you deem private enough, you raise your chin and look at him happily. Under your gaze, he looks down uncomfortably.

“So you want me to say it or will you explain what the hell is going on?”

He blinks. “I’m not sure what you’re talking about, _____.”

Your blood boils. Now, he wants to feign ignorance. “You’re joking,” you deadpan.

He looks at you innocently and shakes his head. You sigh, blinking in confusion.

This whole situation is a first. True to your words, you’ve never actually… had to do anything more than bat an eye to know Namjoon would come to you. You don’t know the words to even ask what’s wrong.

“_____,” he says in a low voice. You glance up at him, completely losing your train of thought. The sight of him has never registered you disorientated before. But now, you can’t help but trace your eyes over his dimples and sparkling eyes.

You scoff at yourself. You must’ve lost your mind temporarily. “You know what I’m talking about!”

He shakes his head so you continue, “you used to always come to the library at my timings and sit on my lunch table.”

“Oh,” he nods. “That’s because I wanted to sleep in more so I changed my schedule around a bit.”

You blink at his explanation. “You sat at the back of the class when I came to the front row-”

“I just wanted to see what it’s like to sit there. Turns out, it sucks,” he pauses when you don’t reply. “_____?”

You frown, part confused and part innocently. “I just mean… why aren’t you following me anymore?”

The words are out of your mouth before you can help it and your eyes widen in humiliation. That isn’t the way you wanted to ask the question.

Namjoon, instead, is amused. He smirks ever so slightly, before cocking his brow and asking, “Are you asking me why I don’t chase you around anymore?”

His newfound confidence almost makes you lose your footing. This is Namjoon - the nerdy guy who’d come to you. He can’t have this effect on you.

You scoff, faking an assured smile. “Are you denying that you chased me around?”

He blinks. “I mean-”

“Surely, you accept the fact that you did chase me around for a whole year,” you say with a smile playing on your lips. Of course, between the two of you, you both know very well of Namjoon’s infatuation with you. He’s danced around those feelings for both of your comedy’s sake… but this time, you won’t let that slide.

He looks at you, tongue poking in his cheek. “Fine. I do chase you around.”

You almost smile with victory but you stop yourself. Before you can speak, he continues.

“But I won’t anymore. I’m sorry. It was wrong of me,” he says sincerely, seemingly ready on his toes to walk away. Your fingers wrap around his wrist without realizing.

“Wait!” you frown displeased. He’s glancing down at where your touch meets his hand and you instantly let go. “This makes no sense.”

He blinks, confused. “What do you… isn’t this what you’ve wanted?”

“You can’t just change your mind like that!” you argue, a strange desperation cutting into your voice. “You can’t make people get used to you and do that!”

Much to your surprise, he wears a small smile. “I didn’t think it’d bother you so much.”

“I can’t stand you,” you groan. “You chase me around, then you find out one tiny fact about my family and now, you think you’re so much better than me to come after me!” you yell, your heart hammering against your chest. You sound like a child, you know as much but… suddenly around him, all logic’s been thrown out your brain.

“_____,” he says in a breath, a glint in his eye that reads surprise and amusement. His dimples are poking out and you wonder what it’d be like to affectionately poke into one. “Do you… did you like when I would come to you?”

There’s no self-preserving answer to this, one that can save both your dignity and pride. You know what you should say to his question, but nerves are prickling under your skin.

It isn’t the nerves you feel before submitting a drawing or entering an exam, but a whole new uncharted territory of nerves. Everything about this conversation is uncharted territory.

“_____, do you…” he starts a question, before nervously brushing the nape of his neck. He looks shy to even ask but after a moment, he looks at you like a child with candy and says, “do you like me?”

Your heart’s in your stomach. Immediately, you laugh, “no! No! Why would I?! Are you crazy?! Why would I ever like-”

“I don’t know,” he blinks innocently, but the stare he holds on you seems suddenly intimate. “That’s what I’m thinking. Why would you ever care about why I stopped chasing after you, if you don’t like me?”

His cocky grin annoys you. You shoot him a deathly look. “Don’t get too confident with me, Joon,” you say although you’re fumbling with words. “I still remember when you couldn’t even look me in the eye.”

He takes a step closer, holding your stare with no qualms. Your heart speeds up again, like you’ve been running.

“_____,” he says softly with a victorious smile. “You like me, don’t you?”

“I’m not answering your stupid question. First, you explain to me why the hell you think you can treat me the way you have the last week-”

“Because I thought you didn’t like me back,” he answers smoothly. “You’re the daughter of HN Architects and I’ve been wasting your time all year long. I’ve always felt intimidated by you… but now, I realized I really wasn’t worth your time.”

You blink with a frown. “Namjoon-”

“I feel really embarrassed, _____… If I ever wanted to work at HN Architects, I wouldn’t even be able to show my face knowing the way I’ve bothered you-”

“You’ve never bothered me.”

“Huh?”

Your cheeks flush and you suddenly become very aware of the words that escaped your lips. You cast a hesitant glance at Namjoon and you can’t help it. Suddenly, everything feels a lot clearer.

“You know, you’re the kind of architect my father dreams about,” you find yourself saying. “You’re the kind of student someone like me should be. It all comes natural to you. I love buildings but everything I do, it’s just part of who you are… that’s why I acted like you bothered me.”

He’s at a loss for words before muttering, “_____…”

“All I ever think about is trying to fit the ideal I know I have to be and it all comes easy for you. You feel embarrassed in front of me…” you laugh with a scoff. “How do you think I feel, needing your help?”

“I never wanted to compete with you,” he says. “I just wanted to be by your side. I really wasn’t helping you for anything apart from looking for an excuse to be near you.”

There it is… the fluttering feeling.

The truth is, you’ve known all this time too. You’ve known that there was never any ulterior motive, just your cynical mind trying to conjure excuses.

You almost hate yourself at this moment. Your insecurity over your work has warped your thoughts so much that you convinced yourself that… that you feel nothing but annoyance for Namjoon.

“_____,” he starts. His hand hesitantly reaches up, stopping multiple times on its way before finally brushing your hair away from your forehead.

“I think it goes without saying but in my eyes, you’re the smartest person in our major and every time I’m with you, I don’t even care if you reject me or look for an excuse to go away,” he says. “You don’t even realize the way I see you.”

Your eyes sting and you’re not sure if it’s because his words move you or you’ve just forgotten to blink for a long while. “You’re so corny.”

He laughs. “Well, someone needs to tell you you’re doing a good job because I can tell you’re not telling yourself,” he says before sheepishly adding, “and I thought we were exchanging what we like about each other.”

“Who said I like you?”

He grins, ruffling your hair despite the scowl you give him. You say nothing but then give a smile. You didn’t expect today to feel so good… but somehow, that insecurity that plagues your mind at all hours of the day disappears for a while. 

All you can think about is wanting this feeling to last with him. Without warning, you reach to grab Namjoon’s wrist to walk out into the open garden of the campus. In front of your sight, there’s a skyline of buildings decorating the city.

“Do you still stand by your statement that that building is the ugliest?”

You grin. “It’s literally hideous, Joon. I can’t believe you’re the top of our class but think those colors look nice together.”

He gives a warm laugh, unable to disguise his happiness at the way you call him endearingly. Your eyes go back and forth between the skyline and Namjoon beside you before deciding that while buildings are your first true love… there’s something even more beautiful about the boy next to you.

hehe so excited to write on this blog if u read till the end jus know u have all my love

[justanotherblonde23]

When Marcus Met the Doctor

Author’s Note: Hey there Internet friends! So my buddy @autumnleaves1991-blog had asked me for a follow up on my original Marcus Moreno story. She was wondering how Marcus met the future Dr. Moreno. It was in an ask, but I can’t find it to save my life. I’m posting this on my iPad because my laptop isn’t playing nicely today, so I apologize if the format seems a little odd. I’m still learning! I gave the reader a last name and a nickname so I didn’t have to use y/n but I didn’t give any descriptions about physical appearance, so I hope you’ll be able to see yourself here. Please let me know what you think, I hope you enjoy - Kat

Warnings: swearing, single parenthood

Tags: @autumnleaves1991-blog @madness-roses @bisexual-space-slut @dindjarindiaries @frannyzooey @zeldasayer @cinewhore @revolution-starter @mrschiltoncat @softpedropascal @paniclana @jollyrancher87 @hdlynnslibrary @maybege @corrupt-fvcker @cyaredindjarin @scribbledghost @woakiees

Marcus was at his wit’s end. He’d been a single dad for all of three weeks after his wife decided that she wasn’t invested in being a mother or having a spouse that occasionally saved the world. What was he supposed to do with a kid that just turned 7, a two-month-old baby who started showing signs of powers, and a full-time job as one of the Heroics? He’d been up all night with the baby, Jules, because every time she woke up, she’d inadvertently started throwing things around the room...with her mind.

He had been around children with powers before, sure, but he had never encountered a child this young having powers begin to develop. Hell, his oldest, Missy, hadn’t even had her powers show up yet. He knew that each child was different, but this was way out of his league. He knew how to handle children; he loved children, especially his children. A powerful infant was not in his job description. He needed outside assistance, and he needed it yesterday.

It was a blustery Saturday, so he bundled himself and the kids up, making his way to Heroics HQ. There had to be someone there that could help. Walking into HQ was like walking into a completely different world. Uniquely powered individuals in multicolored hero outfits, scientists in lab coats, executives in suits, and a myriad of others all spent their time hustling and bustling through the gigantic building. In the middle of all this was Marcus, a dad in jeans, a grey V-neck, converse, and a leather jacket holding a bundled up super powered baby in the crook of his arm, with his hand gripping the small hand of his inquisitive little girl. He sighed, making his way to the building’s science and medical wing, trying to find the proper hallway and office number.

Finally, he found it, office 22A, the person who hopefully had the answers he needed for baby Jules. He knocked; he felt awkward just rushing in even though technically had an appointment. He hadn’t expected the door to be opened by the most beautiful woman that he’d ever laid eyes on. She smiled kindly, gesturing for him to enter. He couldn’t help but take in her appearance as he guided himself and Missy into the office. She was dressed professionally, wearing a pencil skirt, blouse, and heels topped with a lab coat, the sleeves rolled up to her elbows. Her eyes shone with both care and enthusiasm; a soft smile graced her lips. He watched as she grabbed Missy’s hand, setting her up with toys in a corner filled with all sorts of things children loved. She was so gentle with the little girl, giving all of her attention to the child. Once Missy was situated and happily playing quietly, the woman turned her attention back to Marcus and Jules. She said something to him, but Marcus just stood there, blinking, a mixture of exhaustion and admiration rendering him speechless.

“Mr. Moreno?” a gentle voice inquired, her hand on his bicep snapping him out of his reverie.

Marcus blinked, shaking his head, willing himself to be in the present. “I’m so sorry, I’m completely worn out. Between work, the baby, and Missy, I’m just barely pulling through on my own. You can call me Marcus, by the way, Mr. Moreno just seems so formal.”

The kind smile was back as she led him to a couch at the back of the office, where they both sat down and got comfortable.

“So, Marcus, I hear that you are here to see me about your little one here. My name is Dr. Johnson, but mostly everyone around here calls me Iris. Please tell me what’s going on with the baby, and I can see what I can do for you.” She sounded so confident in her ability to assist him, not even knowing what the problem was yet.

“Iris? Is that your name?” Marcus accidentally wondered aloud.

The responding light laugh that Dr. Johnson gave him sounded like a perfect melody. “No, that’s not my name, just a nickname. One of my secondary abilities is a bit of telekinesis. When I activate that or my other abilities, my eyes turn well the color of irises, and the name just stuck.”

He nodded, absorbing the information while rocking Jules in his arms. She was dozing at the moment since this would ideally be her naptime. He studied her face, looking for what, he wasn’t sure. He didn’t even know where to begin, how to ask for something he wasn’t sure there was a solution for. It hit him then how young she was. How was someone so young supposed to help him?

“I sense some hesitation in you. If you have questions or concerns, I’m happy to address them. I want to be able to help you, but to do that, you also need to trust me.”

Marcus shifted in his seat, clearly uncomfortable. He didn’t want to be rude or demanding, but this was his baby they were talking about here. It was his job to keep Jules safe, it was just him now, and he couldn’t stand the idea of her in any type of danger simply because he couldn’t figure out what to do about her powers.

Iris put her hand on his, causing him to look back at her again.

“Yes, I’m quite young, I just turned 28 last month, but that doesn’t make me any less qualified to help you and your baby girl. My greatest ability is my mind. I have nine doctorates, working on more as we speak, which doesn’t include my medical degrees. I am a doctor of pediatric medicine, as well as a surgeon for both children and adults. I’ve worked on most of the heroically enhanced beings that work here, you included, although you were unconscious at the time. I invent most of the tech that you and your fellow Heroics use every day. Those katana blades of yours, those are my work. As a father, I know that you’re going to be hesitant to allow anyone to help your daughter, especially someone who is young, like me. I assure you, Marcus, that my young age is made up for by my vast set of experiences. I would argue that I’m the best suited for this job out of anyone. Please, let me help you so that you can take care of your children to the best of your ability. Give me a chance here; I promise you won’t regret it.”

He had been expecting her anger at his hesitance, not her understanding. He was sure that he was about to be yelled at for doubting her. Instead, she calmly explained exactly who she was and why she was his best bet. Fuck, she was brilliant and willing to help. He needed to give her a chance and let her see this through, no matter how nervous he was.

“Iris, I apologize; I shouldn’t doubt you or your abilities. I’m pretty new at this single dad thing, and I’m just trying to take care of them the best I can. I’ve been doing mostly consultant work from home, but that’s only a temporary solution. I just-,” his voice broke, tears filling his eyes.

A tear dripped down his face, but the doctor caught it with her thumb, smoothing it away. She had tears in her own eyes, threatening to overflow. She enveloped him in as firm of a hug as she could with baby Jules still in his arms, letting him lay his head on her shoulder and permitting him to feel. All his sorrow, worries, and fears flowed out of him through his tears. Fingers carded through his hair, a hand rubbed soothing circles on his back, her words of comfort whispered in his ear. Marcus, you’re not alone. There are people who want to help. It’s okay, let it all out. He didn’t know how long they stayed like that, but by the time he finished crying, he felt safe and cared for, something that he hadn’t felt in a while, not since far before his ex had left.

They spent the next half hour discussing what abilities Jules had exhibited so far, what Marcus’ concerns were, and what he needed to be a functional parent. He explained how the baby started showing signs of power less than a week after she was born, how she seemed to be able to move things with her mind, but that he wasn’t quite sure because, well, Jules was a baby and he was sure that she didn’t even realize she was doing it. He was worried because as time went on, the objects kept getting larger. Last night, somehow, she had moved the crib in front of the bedroom door when she woke up in the middle of the night for her bottle. He had ended up having to take the door off its hinges to even get into the room. Hearing his baby crying and not being able to get to her had scared him shitless. He’d ended up staying in the baby’s room all night to make sure nothing else happened.

As they talked, Jules had woken up and was beginning to fuss. Iris ended up taking the baby, giving her a bottle, and watching her abilities while still listening to Marcus. She was so good with little Jules, holding her, gently stroking her hair, whispering comforting words when she would get fussy. He saw books begin to float off the shelf in his peripheral vision, he got up to try and put them back, but Iris’ hand shot out, stopping him. She smiled up at him, raising a hand and pushing them back in place with her mind.

“I think I have something that will help.”

She stood up, still holding the baby, and went to her desk, grabbing a tiny silver cuff. She pressed a few buttons on the keyboard, bringing up various holograms all around the room. Marcus almost jumped out of his skin when she began to talk to an AI, sorting through her research until she found what she was looking for.

“This is my own design, it’s basically a bracelet that will contain Jules’ powers and abilities while she wears it. It’s waterproof, tamper resistant, and will only open with either your fingerprint or my own. As she grows, we’ll change the cuff size and lessen the suppression. When this little lady is old enough, the cuff will come off altogether and she will have full access to her abilities. The suppression will not cause her any harm or pain, I’ve made sure to try it on myself long term to be certain. This allows you to keep her safe without working yourself into exhaustion. We can meet a few times a month to assess her progress. This should help you all get into the groove of things, Marcus.”

He took the cuff, studying it, rolling it over in his hands. It felt like regular metal, nothing special. He titled it to see the inside. There were tiny sensors evenly spaced throughout and something that was blinking green. This was far beyond his paygrade as far as technology went. The fact that the woman in front of him invented this and was willing to use this to help ensure his baby’s safety was not lost on him. He was grateful that she had a solution, hopefully it would help.

“It won’t hurt her, right? I just want to make sure. Has this been studied long term? Are there any side effects?” he enquired, trying not to get too excited.

Iris shook her head as she lightly rocked Jules in her arms. “I’ve used this on myself, as well as some other children that have had their abilities show up a bit too early. I haven’t seen any drawbacks or side effects of the cuff so far, but I want to have you bring Jules in at least once every few weeks so that we can keep her closely monitored. You’ll also have my number, please feel free to contact me day or night if you have any concerns or if anything goes wrong. I’m here to help and it’s my main priority to make sure that this sweet girl can learn and grow safely, without the threat of her powers going awry. This problem is one that we can solve, Marcus.”

He nodded, her words were reassuring to be sure. Since he became a single father, he hadn’t really trusted anyone with the safety and wellbeing of his little girls besides himself. It was difficult to reach out and allow someone to help solve a problem when the one person he had trusted the most had shattered him. Iris was giving him a solution, she was asking for his trust in her and her science. He could do that for his kids, he had to.

Marcus handed her back the cuff, allowing her to delicately put it on Jules’ wrist. It didn’t even phase the baby one bit. She kept on as if nothing had changed at all. He let out the breath that he didn’t even know he had been holding. She seemed absolutely fine, content to be rocked in the good doctor’s arms. She handed her back to Marcus, allowing him to cradle his little one close.

The two adults scheduled baby Jules’ followup appointment for the next week so that they could see her progress and give Iris a chance to check the data and run some tests. They spoke for a few more minutes until Missy came up to get their attention.

“Daddy, I’m hungry.”

Iris got down on Missy’s level so that she could look her in the eye. “You did so well today, Missy. Thank you so much for playing quietly while your daddy and I talked about your baby sister. I’m very proud of you.”

Missy broke out in a huge grin, throwing her arms around the doctor’s shoulders.

“Will we get to see you again? Can I come and play here more soon?”

Iris returned the hug, smiling fondly at the little girl. “Your sister has another appointment here next week and you are more than welcome to come and play in my office again. It was very nice to meet you. I think your daddy will be taking you down to the cafeteria here for some lunch, how does that sound?”

Missy nodded enthusiastically, grabbing her father’s free hand and tugging him along.

“Thank you so much, Iris, I really appreciate all the time you’ve given us today.”

“The pleasure is mine, Marcus, really. I’m here to help.”

There wasn’t much more to be said as Marcus was dragged by Missy out the door and down the hallway, chatting about what type of lunch they were going to eat. The doctor stood in the doorway, watching the little family leave, happy that she could be of assistance. She liked Marcus, he seemed to love his children a great deal and was a good man.

As they got in the elevator, Missy’s sweet voice said, “Daddy, I like that doctor lady, she’s so nice. I hope we get to see her more. She’s so pretty!”

Marcus had to agree with his daughter, he liked Iris, too. He felt a tug in his gut telling him that he should get to know her more, that she was someone truly special. He decided then and there that he would try to make that happen.

[cobertaddict]

Hi! Is it alright if I ask about your headcannons on the Downton kiddos (it can be any of them, really including little baby pelham!) I hope this isn't too hard 😅

Anyway, I do hope you have/had a nice day!

Anything for you my dear! 💕

Hmm... I have to think about this for a bit... This may be a bit long, sorry 😬

George (and a tiny pinch of Caroline):

I envision George slowly but surely coming to his responsibilities as the future Earl for a easy transition when Robert passes. In his teens, George accompanies Mary whenever she's tending to the tenants and accounts whenever he's home from boarding school (perhaps Eton). And sometimes Donk will join in too so he can pass on some advice, which is sometimes outdated lol. George enjoys talking to Caroline when he's home at Downton, where he takes the role of protective brother very seriously. In fact, during his university days George had to beat up a man who was being bashful and rude towards his sister, which kinda surprised Caroline because George usually has a quiet and calm demeanor. When WW2 comes around, George doesn't hesitate to serve his king and country, so he is sent to training to become a pilot. Unfortunately during the war, George gets a letter from his mother informing him about Donk's declining health and George visits Downton whenever he's on leave. In 1941, George receives a letter when he's on assignment that Donk has finally passed away and he is now the Earl of Grantham. George is reluctant towards his new duty as Earl, despite Mary managing most of the estate still. Mary tells George how his father was similar in nature, not really wanting to take on the responsibility of Earl but later took on the role. This alleviates some of George's stress, but he still rather manage the estate minimally and have a career in law or business where he feels more fulfilled. Plus, it doesn't help that the English feudal system is rapidly declining at this point of time in history. Mary is stubborn about this at first, but later accepts George's decision because she just wants him to be happy and notices that George will never desert Downton completely.

Now on to Sybbie :

When growing up, Sybbie loved being at Downton and there's nothing she loved more than spending time with her cousins, especially George and Marigold because they're closer in age. But this doesn't mean she loves her other cousins any less, she's kind and nice to all her cousins, a trait she inherited from her mother. Another thing Sybbie enjoyed thoroughly was spending time with Donk and Granny during their tea time in the library. Sybbie loved listening to Donk reading stories out loud to her and her cousins while she sat close to granny. When her father married Lucy, she was a little shy at first, but welcomed her with open arms and they became close together. Sybbie also becomes an older sister when Tom and Lucy have a daughter together. When Sybbie becomes a young teenager, she begins to ask more questions about Sybil, which Tom (and sometimes Cora) are happy to answer. During WW2, she wants to lend a helping hand and becomes a nurse just like her mother. When Donk's health begins to decline, she visits Downton as much as she can. After the war, she decides to continues to work as a nurse because she loved the sense of fulfillment and helping others. As a young adult, she worked at the Downton hospital, where she visits Cora's office on her breaks sometimes. When she gets married, she moves away and becomes a mother of two. In the future, Sybbie and her family always visit Downton for Christmas.

Marigold (and a tiny bit of baby Pelham :D):

When growing up, Marigold always felt like a bit of a outsider, but never knew why. Just like her mother, she is shy and often seen being quiet. As a young child, the cousin she was most closest to was Caroline, who is more extroverted than her but she enjoys spending time with her because it brings her out of shy shell. She likes her stepfather very much and the both of them can be seen together sharing a few jokes. During the late 1920s, she becomes a older sister of a younger brother, whose middle name is Robert after Donk. Marigold grew up as a bookworm and can always be seen with a book in her hands. She can also be seen visiting her mother's office. During her late teens, Marigold's curiosity about how her mother became a writer grows. Around this time, Marigold discovers about her father, Michael Gregson. This drives her towards the interest of writing, which excites Edith and hopes that one day Marigold will take over the magazine publication. However, Marigold is not interested in the magazine column or managing it and rather pursue creative writing. She begins to write short stories, which her little brother often reads and enjoys them. In university, she pursues a degree in English and hopes to pursue a career as a author, which combines her love of books and writing.

Well, I hope you like my take on the little kiddos. I'm sorry it's not good, but that's all I could come up with... for now ;).Thank you very much for the ask! 💕 Here's some Cobert cuteness for ya :)

[afriendlyblackhottie]

Ransom Drysdale Must Die (Chapter One)

Summary: Ransom Drysdale is a serial cheater. The only way to get him to pay for what he’s done is for him to die. Or at least be extremely humiliated. As long as you don’t fall for him.

Pairings: Eventual Ransom Drysdale x black!reader, Ransom Drysdale x Multiple OC’s

Warnings: Swearing. Eventual smut.

(Author’s Note: I was watching John Tucker must die and it made me think of my favorite sweater wearing murder daddy.)

Tags: @night-of-the-living-shred​

Word Count: 2.0k

It's not that you were invisible. You preferred to think of it as keeping a low profile. Growing up, you didn't really have a choice but to keep things to yourself. What was the point of trusting people if all you were going to do was leave? You couldn't make friends or keep them if you'd be moving in another four to six months anyway. Not that it was your choice.

It started at a really young age. Technically before you were even born. Your mom had been a teen parent. Your dad didn't stick around which was all you knew about him. It didn't take long for you to get used to the myriad of men walking in and out of your life. Then you got used to seeing your mom, your only constant, getting treated like garbage over and over and over.

She never had an issue with dating. It was them sticking around that was apparently tricky. The problem is that when it would happen the same thing always happened. She'd binge on chocolate. Use you as a shoulder to cry on. Then you'd be moving to flee into the next city. It was kind of fucked up.

While she cried over the hundredth guy your nose was either buried in a book or painting which had been your only escape. You never wanted to judge your mom. She didn't deserve to always have her heartbroken. But, you also didn't deserve having a mom that wanted to pack up at the first sign of trouble. She didn't seem to get that.

As an adult, you promised yourself that you would find one place and stick to it. It might have hurt your mom a little to watch you go, but she understood that you had to go away for college and stuff. Which is how you ended up in Boston. You kind of remember living in Boston once back in the day. You liked the winters surprisingly and the way the trees looked in the fall. You remembered being happy which is why it sucked so much to leave.

You’d gotten your degree, but finding a job had been difficult. Which is how you ended up working at this country club. Though you could live without all the snobby rich people being total assholes, at least they tipped well. You mostly waitress in the clubhouse where it was usually the older crowd and the families that sucked up to them for the inheritance.

It was also how you first noticed him. Hugh Ransom Drysdale. From the moment you laid eyes on him you could tell he was dangerous. Just like those men, your mother would fall for that would inevitably break her heart. That same air of arrogance hanging over him like a cloud, except much better looking with a trust fund to go along with it.

He insisted everyone in the clubhouse call him Hugh. Which according to everyone is what he insists the help call him. God, he's a fucking asshole.

You remember the first time you talked to him. He was so enchanting. It was annoying. He was like Gaston come to life. Just as handsome, just as charming, just as scummy. Sure he made those white polos he wore to play golf look like he'd just stepped off a shoot for GQ. His gaze was enough to make any woman swoon. Even you as much as you hated to admit it.

It'd been one of the few times you'd worked at the bar. Someone had called out and being the new girl you were told to take their spot. "Sweetheart, be useful and get me a bourbon," he'd said in this rude tone.

"Not even a please?" You muttered under your breath as you turned your back to get a glass.

"What was that?" He asked, with a quirk in his eyebrow.

You kissed your teeth before turning back to him,  "Excuse me?" You plastered a sweet smile on your face.

"You got something to say? Say it." He challenged.

You shook your head. "I didn't... I didn't say anything."

He chuckled. "Okay, lo-"

Your jaw dropped as you put your hand on your chest. "Oh my god, Sir, if you're already drunk I can't serve you. You'd be a liability."

"That's a big word. Did they teach you that in community college?" The glare in his eye was intense and you couldn't help it as a smile spread across your face.

"Actually I think I learned it from where you get your trust fund."

You were surprised when he laughed. But, not that little sarcastic chuckle. Like an actual laugh. "Usually I'd call the manager over and enjoy them firing you in front of me, but lucky for you I'm in a good mood and kind of enjoying this. Now get me my bourbon."

"One bourbon coming up." You shrugged.

You talked with him for the rest of your shift surprisingly. The conversation going from hostile to surprisingly pleasant. He’d told you about some issue he’d been having with his grandfather that he hadn’t told the rest of his family he laughed at the idea of them finding out. Said he couldn’t wait to see the look on their faces when they found out everything was going to the nurse.

It was the trashy rich people drama that you craved.

“I know there’s gonna be a lot of bullshit when they find out they aren’t getting that house,” he’d scoffed, looking up at you from his drink.

“I’d be pissed too,” you replied. “I’m sure that house looks like a museum. I’d love to see it.”

“It’s insane.” He nodded. “Imagine like a horror museum with one of those escape rooms.”

You laughed. “So like plastic spiders? Cobwebs? Ghosts!” What a turn around this had been from the initial conversation the two of you were having.

“Not at all,” he said laughing. “It’s more like everything he’s ever thought for his novels, he just adds to his home. Like he needs the visualization. He has a secret window and a chair with knives. It’s insane.”

“That actually sounds pretty cool. Your grandpa sounds like a pretty cool guy, you must admire him a lot.”

“I mean... yeah, but I’d never tell him that.”

“Why not?” You asked with a chuckle.

“It’s complicated,” he answered, before bringing his glass up to his lips. “Like, I love him, but....”

“No. I get it.” Of course, you did. Your mom was a complicated figure in your life, but you could never not love her.

“I’ve done a lot of shit.” He shrugged. “So, I think it’s mutual.”

“At least his house sounds interesting. Like a work of art. I’m kind of a sucker for art.”

“Do you paint? Draw? Doodle on an iPad.” The way he smiled up at you, you would have never guessed that he was the giant asshole everyone made him out to be. There was this softness there even if it was hiding under his arrogant exterior.

You chuckled. “I paint. Though I do partake in the doodling on iPads.”

“I’d love to see your work sometime,” he said. “Do you sell?”

“I haven’t,” you replied. “But, I’m open to it. I guess. I’d show you now, but I’m not allowed to have my phone on the floor.”

“Oh so I’m not worth risking being fired for, I get it,” he joked, shaking his head as if he was offended.

You laughed, tilting your head back. “I know right. I’m already risking it by even talking to you. Harrington is so strict.”

There was this squint on his face as he kind of looked you up and down. It felt like he was studying you and it made you feel like you were under a microscope. “You’ve got a cute laugh you know that?”

No. Don’t give in. You had to tell yourself. You didn’t want to get involved with anyone you’d have to workaround. Besides, it was Ransom Drysdale. You’d just seen him with a woman yesterday. “Thank you,” you brushed him off. “Can I get you another drink?”

He sighed, checking the time on his phone. “As much as I’d love to stay and chat. I have to get going. Maybe I’ll stop by soon so we can talk again. Maybe show me some of your work?”

“Sure.”

He’d left you a forty dollar tip. You were not expecting that.

You’d left work that night feeling pretty good. Not that you were expecting him to fall in love with you or anything. Or for anything to happen at all. It was just a nice encounter with the guy everyone was obsessed with here. Besides you promised yourself you’d never, ever fall into the same trap as Mom had.

It’s not that you didn’t date. You were picky, though. The few relationships you’d had were okay, but you didn’t want to get hurt so you never wanted to get in too deeply.

Then the next day you had come to work, he’d walked in with Marissa on his arm. That stopped any and all thoughts you may have had. It was during that lull between when they'd stopped serving breakfast and brought out the lunch menus. You weren’t surprised that a man like Hugh Ransom Drysdale would be dating a woman like Marissa Clermont. She was exactly the type of woman men like him go for. You know a model IT girl type of deal.

It wasn’t just because he’d been dating Marissa. Of course not. It was because the day before you he’d just come in with Amber Taylor. The daughter of a retired Boston Celtics player. Also, a beautiful woman (also a model you think) who clearly didn’t know her boyfriend was two-timing her.

“Fascinating isn’t it?” Your co-worker, Britt, interrupted your thoughts as she’d come back from taking their drink order. Her arms were crossed as she tried to not make it too obvious that was she looking over at them. “He comes in here with different women and none of them have any idea.”

You frowned as you saw him whispering in her ear, making her giggle, probably telling her the same thing he told Amber just yesterday. “Yeah, I see that,” you replied. “How does he get away with it?”

“Ladies! Back to work!” Harrington, your manager, barked towards the both of you which made the both of you scurry off before she even had the chance to answer. You didn’t even get to talk to her because her shift was over soon then you were off the next day. You weren’t even sure why you cared so much.

When you got back to work it was during that lull time. Ransom was there of course with a different woman. Chloe Daniels. A blonde that had been the sole heir to her husband’s entire fortune no matter how much his ex wife or adult children tried to fight it. You were happy you got to witness the drama for that.

“He messes around with girls that don’t talk to each other,” Britt was finally able to explain. “So, they never find out. At least, that’s what the story around here is.”

“Wow he has a whole system worked out...” you crinkle your nose. Ugh what a fucking pig.  Just like your mother and those douchebags she dated.

“I mean, I kind of get it,” Britt said. “He’s hot. I might put up with being treated like trash for that much. Hell, I’ve put up being treated like trash for much less.”

You held in the laugh you wanted to let out as you could see Harrington lurking around, waiting to say something to the two of you. He never missed his chance to give out orders.

For as long as the couple sat through you couldn’t stop staring. Britt was right. It was fascinating.

[kinetic-elaboration]

June 17: 1x23 The Omega Glory

Watched the very uneven episode “The Omega Glory” today. Upon some reflection.. I think I have seen it? But I think my last rewatch ended abruptly after “By Any Other Name” so it might have been some time ago.

Anyway, it was... something. Decent, I might even say good, until the last 10-15 minutes and then it just went off a cliff? That’s how I’d summarize it.

Sulu, my beloved. I’ve missed you.

Kirk knows where all the ships are. I mean, obviously, but I love to hear it.

Phasers on heavy stun huh?

It’s so weird to be on a different ship. That looks like the same ship. It’s so empty and haunted looking.

With creepy crystal remains of bodies everywhere.

“These white crystals... are the crew.”

Something was thirsty!! Perhaps... a water vampire? Perhaps... a former McCoy girlfriend?

(Honestly having watched the whole ep...they could have expanded this intro longer. It was creepy and mysterious. Then cut the last act.)

Oh no, they’ve been infected and now must quarantine. Sort of. I guess.

...Oh no, is this Vietnam? Again?

“Our old enemy, Vietnam.”

My mother suggested the disease might be communism and I don’t think that metaphor tracks through the whole episode but you know what.. anything’s possible.

I don’t like this whole “you can’t leave the planet or you’ll get sick and die” thing. Too familiar.

"I may never be able to leave this planet but I have a worse problem: a colleague may be breaking a rule."

Says the man who has frequently violated a directive that has never been referred to as Prime before.

Kirk is getting very mumbly. That’s his serious voice.... bu it’s also his Denny Crane voice lol.

Like bio warfare in the 90s? TOS really thought the 90s was going to be the dark ages, didn’t it?

Only 90s kids remember...

Spock bursting in with a wounded man, just bringing the drama, as he does.

He’s not even listening to McCoy. Rude.

Spock absolutely 100% would have killed Captain Tracey on instinct as soon as Kirk is threatened.

Sulu’s in command? I love Captain Sulu but where is Scotty?

Kirk is so good. Clever, strong, smart. Knows all the regulations.

Tracey’s so dumb. “They’ve eradicated disease and live for hundreds of years!” Man, have you considered that they are...aliens? And their life spans are simply.... naturally longer than human life spans? And even if you could isolate the serum, it might not work on humans?

And his master plan is to isolate their immunity and bottle it for profit. It’s our old enemy... capitalism and the exploitation of intellectual property.

A fight scene!

“The pointy-eared one stays.”

Another fight scene!

Spock is watching all of this, and you know what, I feel like he’s not upset about it. It’s just like Pre-Reform Vulcan. Perhaps some... Amok Time flashbacks? “Damn, I wish that was me.”

Peanut gallery Spock.

“I wish you could teach me that.” / “I have tried.” Omg where is my scene of Spock trying to teach Kirk the nerve pinch?

And then that look Kirk gives him.

I don’t get the point of this scene but it amuses me that as soon as McCoy sees the pretty girl, he feels better.

A post-apocalyptic alien world... a very interesting concept. Like you could do a lot with that idea imo.

“That’s our worship word [freedom too.” Umm.... questionable.

Damn bitch, that was cold. Just knocking him out like that.

Damn yankee.

...Yankee and Communist dammit.

McCoy’s not even surprised to see Kirk and Spock out of jail.

Nature created a natural counterbalance to the biological disease. Where is OUR natural counterbalance, I ask?

McCoy sounds extra Southern rn. It’s all the stress.

I really don’t think Shatner gets enough credit for his subtlety. His face when McCoy explains the whole situation...

Oh he's mad now. "You've hurt Spock for nothing! Oh yeah and also killed thousands but MOSTLY THE SPOCK THING!”

Whereas Tracey really doesn’t seem to care about anything but war for its own sake. He knows now that his master plan for immortality was nothing the whole time...but he still needs to call those Yangs.

In other words, another once-reputable figure of authority now gone mad.

Kirk’s voice is so casual when he’s talking to Uhura and Sulu, you feel like he’s gotta have something up his sleeve. He can never hide when he’s really upset about something.

...Apparently what he had up his sleeve was his crew knowing regulations and then another full body tackle. Fight scene 3!

"My need for attention is vital.” Same, Spock.

This is a very attenuated and unbelievable connection Kirk is making but he’s Kirk so I’ll assume it makes sense that he’s putting it all together so fast.

Alternate Universe: Vietnam canon-divergence lol.

For anyone keeping track, this is right about the point where the episode goes off the rails.

YOU’RE A ROMANTIC, JIM. Well he’s right about that at least and he should say it.

Oh no, an American flag.

Cloud William, chief and the son of chiefs. That’s continuity of government for you.

(Also pretty hilarious that this society is supposedly So American with our exact flag and Constitution and everything... but they’re not a democracy.)

I really don’t want to believe that “under God” is still in the pledge 200 years from now.

"You're confusing the stars with heaven." Kirk thinks he's being called an angel.

The absolute mishmash of meaningless, referent-free words here. America. Native Americans. Communists. The flag, the Constitution. God. Angels. Devils. What???

Like how can they both be flag worshippers AND...believers in God? Who is their God? Alien George Washington?

So rude to call Spock Kirk’s “servant.” That’s his space husband!

Is that a literal picture of Spock as a demon in their.. Bible?

I can’t even follow this anymore.

“You command him.” I mean...yes, that’s how the military works.

“He has no heart.” Wow, rude.

“His heart is different!” I stan one (1) Southern Doctor.

I feel like Spock is just... not having this at all. His face loos like he’s thinking what I’m thinking.

Oh no is that the CONSTITUTION??!

“Kill his servant” wow Tracey is obsessed with Spock, isn’t he? I guess everyone in the Fleet knows about them and their special relationship.

Spock is even amused by the knife at his throat. His eyes say "I am distressed--but fascinated!"

A FOURTH fight scene? And here I thought Kirk was going to recite the Constitution.

“I’m open to suggestions.” He’s just as worried about Kirk as McCoy is, bu the doesn’t show it.

...Yep, he’s being telepathic again. Not really in line with his usual telepathy but okay. Alien magic is flexible.

Okay I have a JD and I can confidently say there is nothing about good defeating evil in the Constitution.

And now this alien guy is immediately ready to make himself a “slave.” That seems problematic. What happened to the holy word “Freedom”?

Wow, Kirk's in a bad mood. "You can't pronounce your own holy words worth shit."

“This is only for the eyes of a Chief,” he says and Kirk just pushes him away.

Spock literally turns Tracey around for Kirk’s big final speech like “Listen up, bitch, my boyfriend’s talking.”

Is this the 4th of July episode?? Feels like there should be canons and fireworks going off behind him rn.

Idk, the words of the Constitution can't be so unique and unprecedented if a WHOLE OTHER ALIEN CIVILIZATION just came up with them, too, on their own, like monkeys typing Hamlet. (Given the timelines here... they probably did it first too lol.)

"Liberty and freedom need to be more than just words." Like what does that even mean in this context? Sounds nice but it’s very hard to put into the context of all the rest of this.

“And uh be nice to the Kohms,” after most of them (?) were probably just killed.

I really was into this until the last 10-15 minutes and I think there were under-explored concepts that could have taken the fever dream of whatever that bizarre-o fever dream at the end was. The abandoned ship. The leftovers of bio warfare. The whole weird and under-explained concept of immunity. The tragedy that so much was destroyed,, including but not limited to the whole Exeter crew, for no reason. What happened to Tracey to so destroy him--was it just greed? What about the “Prime” Directive? Is it important or not. They just leave at the end after (as Spock pointed out) doing quite a bit of their own meddling, even though meddling is allegedly the worst. Also, we know almost nothing about the Kohms at all. The “American” society clearly wasn’t democratic. Were the Kohms literally Communist?

I’m willing to accept a certain degree of alternate Earth scenarios--like Miri (though imo that was not a necessary component of that story) or Bread and Circuses, but this was too much. TOO unbelievable. And frankly unnecessary. You could do an allegory for alternate-Vietnam, and it would be just as clear but even more effective. There wouldn’t be any distraction in the form of “what the fuck is that flag doing here?”

There is a potentially incendiary concept here, which is the same one I thought of reading about actual COG plans--certain aspects of the Yanks’ culture survives, but with absolutely no meaning attached. They have a Constitution but they mispronounce all the words. They have this tattered flag but it has no other meaning. They’ve turned the symbols of the government into a religion, but they don’t practice any of the civil aspects of it--they have chiefs, not democratically appointed leaders, for example. Like, COG asks “what IS the country, and how do you make sure the country endures no matter what?” This was an opportunity to show the worst of that: the country continues to exist as symbology only--incredibly strong symbology, but only that--and all of the actual values that were supposed to be stored with that symbology have disappeared. Similarly, their hatred of their enemies endures. It’s lauded in the ep as their attempt to get “their land” back but what if it’s just war for its own sake, as Tracey seems to be engaging in? To tell that story, especially in the 60s, against the backdrop of Vietnam, and with the references to bio warfare and nuclear warfare, could be powerful. And I know TOS can work in metaphor and comparison. It doesn’t need to bring out a literal fucking flag.

Honestly, it was like they had one good, classic, sci fi story but it didn't fill 52 minutes so they tacked on the American Pride 4th of July Propaganda Extravaganza at the end.

It really felt like the lesson was “America good” lol.

I liked the concept of the post apocalyptic society in the aftermath of bio warfare as a cautionary tale for 1960s America, and I'd be up for crazed snake oil salesman Starfleet Captain (or...whatever his rank was) if it were a bit better explained. But the rest of it....

It also... could have been kinda incendiary with the idea that the Constitution and flag are religious symbols... I mean some people do treat them that way and I've always found that, first, blasphemous, and second, bizarre in such a hyper-Christian country. But I feel like instead of digging ito that, they just tempered it with "But also they're Christian, as you can tell by their drawing of devil!Spock, for some reason."

Idk, this story could have been complete with out the whole weird “Vietnam AU” back story or alternately it could have been a biting commentary about what defines America, and about whether or not our symbols might be more enduring--or even more important to people today??--than the laudable but more complex and difficult ideals that underpin the country’s founding. Are the words of the Constitution just gobbledy gook? They are if you don’t live by them, and America has always struggled to do that. It definitely would struggle even more in the aftermath of an apocalypse.

...I’m more annoyed now, thinking about the possible sci fi story that could have been...

Anyway next is an ep I’m fairly sure I haven’t  seen, so that should be fun.

[percontaion-points]

Foxhole Court chapter 2

Click to see the rest of the snark & image descriptions.

Chapter 2

Finally he followed signs down a hall and up a flight of stairs to Arrivals. Friday afternoon meant the small lobby was comfortably crowded, but spotting the ride Coach Wymack promised him was easier than Neil expected.

So the entire first chapter was just what? Just pretty cake decoration or something? What was the point even if Neil was just going to turn around and sign anyway?

"Maybe you'll forgive me for not reacting well."

"Maybe I won't. I don't believe in forgiveness, and it wasn't me you offended. That's the second time a recruit has told [Kevin] to fuck off.”

I don't know. Maybe if Kevin learned how to understand the meaning of the word “no”, less people would say rude things to him.

Aaron pulled at the wheel, sliding the car from one lane to the other without bothering to check the traffic around him. Horns blared behind them. Neil watched in the rearview mirror as cars swerved to avoid hitting them.

"It's too nice of a car to wreck," he said pointedly.

"Don't be so afraid to die," Aaron said as the car kept gliding across the four-lane road to an exit ramp. "If you are, you have no place on our court."

I have a feeling that this is going to be a reoccurring thing I say a lot during this series but: JFC dude. Maybe go to therapy instead of dragging others down into the muck with you.

Kevin Day and his adoptive brother Riko Moriyama were hailed as the sons of Exy. Kevin's mother Kayleigh Day and Riko's uncle Tetsuji Moriyama created the sport roughly thirty years ago while Kayleigh was studying abroad in Fukui, Japan. What started as an experiment spread from their campus to local street teams, then across the ocean to the rest of the world. Kayleigh brought it home with her to Ireland after completing her degree and the United States picked it up soon after.

Kevin and Riko were raised on Exy. When Edgar Allen's massive stadium Castle Evermore, the first NCAA Exy stadium in the United States, was little more than blueprints, Kevin and Riko had custom racquets. After Kayleigh's fatal car accident, Tetsuji took Kevin in, but the Ravens' new coach had no time to raise children. Riko and Kevin spent their formative years at Evermore with the Ravens instead and were considered the team's unofficial mascots. When they weren't being coached by Tetsuji, they were coached by the team, and tutors were brought onsite so they wouldn't have to leave the stadium for school.

Kevin and Riko grew up in front of cameras, but always with Exy as a backdrop and always together. Until Kevin transferred to Palmetto State, he and Riko were never seen in separate rooms. Their unconventional childhood led many to worry about their psychological well-being but also fueled a rabid obsession with the pair. Riko and Kevin were the face of the Ravens. To many, they were considered the future of Exy.

Last December, Riko and Kevin vanished from the public eye for weeks. When spring championships started in January, neither man was on the Ravens' starting line-up. It wasn't until the end of January that Tetsuji Moriyama addressed the topic at a press conference, and the news was a cruel blow to Exy fans everywhere: Kevin Day had broken his playing hand on a skiing trip.

Ski trip. Riiight. And not the crushing reality that your sole personality trait is a sport that doesn't give a fucking shit about you.

Andrew was smiling, but Neil knew his cheer didn't mean he was going to play nice. He'd been smiling when he smashed a racquet into Neil's stomach, too.

Friendly reminder that that happened. And despite that, Neil still decided that he wanted to spend the next five years with these people.

"This is where Coach lives," he said unnecessarily. "He makes all the money, so he gets to live in a place like this while we poor people couch surf."

Sports are a goddamned drain on our economy. College sports are even worse.

I have a lot of opinions about sports, and I'm not going to be shy about expressing them.

He'd been on his own since his mother died, and the last man he'd lived with was his father. How was he supposed to let Wymack lock the door every night with both of them under the same roof?

This book is doing nothing to stop me from thinking Coach has a habit of grooming vulnerable boys so that he can molest them.

Holding down one corner was a hefty prescription bottle. Nicky scooped the bottle up with a triumphant sound and twisted the lid off.

"That's not yours," Neil said.

"Painkillers," Nicky said, ignoring that implicit accusation.

[…]

He shook a couple pills into his hand, screwed the lid on, and put the bottle back.

Just casually takes some pills.

Although in the grand scheme of everything that's happened so far, I'm barely even blinking over the implication that, on top of everything else, there's going to be drug use in this, too.

"Ready," Neil said, and started after his teammates.

Chapter 2 summary: Despite the entire point of the first chapter being “I don't want to get involved with this; go away”, Neil sets off for North Carolina in the second chapter. I mean, we knew that he would because it's literally in the title, but his random flip-flopping is already annoying.

Neil is picked up by one of the twins who beat him up at the high school locker in the first chapter, and they go to Coach's apartment. The other twin, as well as their cousin is waiting to take Neil into the apartment, since Coach isn't there at the moment.

We also get some backstory on Kevin: his mother and his mother's friend invented the sport of exy, and it spread across the world. Kevin and a boy his own age, Riko, were raised as team mascots for their parents. Except when Kevin's mom died in a car accident, Riko's dad tried to raise both of them. Except that he was more focused on being a sports star than being a father. Eventually, Kevin disappeared from the college exy scene for a while before Riko announced he'd broken his hand. To make matters worse, Kevin stopped playing for the Ravens, and instead joined the Foxes. It made a lot of fans very angry.

In the apartment, the boys are... well. Sociopaths little shits, and the author probably thinks that she's clever for writing such mental characters. One of them randomly pops some pills. One of them (I already can't tell them apart; they might as well be three different sheets of printer paper with names written on them) is supposed to be on parole for having attacked somebody at a club. He's supposed to be on heavy medication and thus, not drink. But he's literally drinking right then.

The coach comes home after a while, and allows Neil to stash his only earthly belongings in a lock drawer. Neil then leaves with the cookie-cutter boys, to go meet Kevin at the sportsball stadium. One of the twins threatens Neil, although for some unholy reason, Neil is surprised by this. Despite the fact that the twins had literally beaten him up at the high school.

[ohmywhump]

Handsome Devil

next / masterlist

Meet Jonah and Vincent!

What started with a little flirt soon becomes the worst experience of Jonah's life... Since this is only the prologue things are still very lighthearted in general, but that will change rather quickly.

cw for this chapter: implied drugging, implied non-con

cw for the story in general: abusive relationship, creepy/intimate whumper, mentions of and actual torture, non-con touching, drugging and references to past drug abuse

@whumperofthetristatearea  you asked me to tag you, so here we go ;)

***

'Double espresso,' the dark haired man ordered, handing over his credit card to the employee without a word of greeting. Pushing his glasses back up his nose, he unfolded the newspaper he was carrying, leaning against the counter while he waited for his order.

'Double espresso?'

He looked up at the barista, annoyed that he even dared to address a regular like him given the fact that he'd ordered the same beverage every morning for more than a year now. To his surprise he saw himself confronted with a handsome young man whose ash brown hair was long enough to almost cover his amber coloured eyes, giving him a tentative smile as he shoved the espresso cup in his direction.

'Enjoy, sir.'

'Oh, hello there... never seen you here before... Jonah,' he purred, inspecting the name tag on the young man's shirt while he emptied the small cup with a single gulp.

'Yeah, erm... I just started working here a few days ago, so...'

'So that means I'll have the pleasure of seeing you again, how convenient! Have a nice day, Jonah,' he said as he put down his cup on the counter, tucked the folded newspaper under his arm and turned towards the exit with a final wink in Jonah's direction.

'Same to you,' the barista mumbled even though the customer had already left, nervously brushing a strand of hair out of his face.

'Don't do that,' a voice behind him stated.

Carol had been doing the dishes, but now she looked up, honest concern showing on her face.

'What do you mean?'

'I know that look. And I'm not going to stand back and watch while you're precipitating into ruin.'

'But I... I didn't do anything wrong, I don't know what you're talking about!'

'That guy? You know him?'

'No?'

'Vincent Dunne, he's a publishing editor and an obnoxious person. Wish he'd get his espresso elsewhere.'

'A publishing editor..,' Jonah mused, turning around towards the door even though it was obvious that the man had long since gone.

'Whoa, Jonah – no. I know exactly what's going on in your crazy little head right now and you will not do that!'

'Oh come on, Carol, you knew from the start that I'd only be working here until I've found something else and that's a chance in a thousand!'

Grabbing him by his shoulders she turned him around, making him face her.

'You don't understand, it's not that I want to keep you from getting a job that matches your abilities, I just don't want you to ask him.'

'Why not?'

'Because he's creepy.'

Jonah couldn't help but laugh.

'And you're crazy, Carol. Now let me through so I can wipe the tables, will you?'

*

'Never thought you'd agree to see me again so soon,' Vincent smiled, taking a sip of his wine.

They were sharing a table in a cosy restaurant by the river, watching the people walking by albeit most of the time only having eyes for each other. It was only the third time they met – if you rated their first encounter at the coffee shop earlier that week as meeting even though they barely talked back then. The second time Vincent had spent his entire lunch break standing on the counter, talking to Jonah while he kept preparing lattes and mocha cookie crumble frappuccinos with non-fat milk and extra syrup for the other customers, flirting blatantly – after that experience, they decided to meet somewhere else where they could talk without being interrupted all the time.

Feeling more confident by now, Jonah started asking questions about Vincent's job, just incidentally mentioning that he was still looking for an occupation that matched his qualification.

'That is?' Vincent asked with raised eyebrows.

'I've got a master's degree in English Literary Studies and Creative Writing.'

'So you're just hanging out with me because you want me to get you a job? I'm shocked! And I already wondered why somebody this young would go on a date with someone my age...'

He made an expression as of utter consternation, then burst into roaring laughter right away.

'I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make fun of you, everyone has to start somewhere. We can give it a try if you like?'

'Sure thing, I'd love to!'

Jonah's eyes lit up as if Vincent had already offered him a job, but the other man reminded him to take the whole thing one step at a time.

'You probably shouldn't tell your colleagues just yet, not to be rude, but I'll have to see if you're any good before I can recommend you. Having a master's degree doesn't mean you're any good as an editor.'

'I know, I know! I'm just... I'm so grateful that you'll give me a chance to prove myself!'

'Don't disappoint me, then. Are you working tomorrow?'

'Yes, but only until 5pm, I could come to your office right after that...'

'Hey - slow down. You're certainly not coming to my office right away, it would make me look stupid if I introduced you to the others without testing you first.'

'I'm sorry,' the younger one mumbled, blushing, 'I really don't want to embarrass you.'

'I've got some things to get done tomorrow but I'll pick you up at 6 pm. Wait for me in front of Archway station, will you? You should be able to get there in time.'

'So you live in that area?'

'No.'

After being scolded for his officiousness Jonah didn't know how to resume their chat and just stayed quiet. There were so many questions he wanted to ask, but he didn't want to offend Vincent. Looking up at him shyly, he realised that the dark haired man was watching him with an expression of kindness.

'How can I restore that beautiful smile you sported earlier this evening?'

'I don't know,' Jonah replied, feeling the heat rising in his cheeks again, 'Maybe you could...'

He felt Vincent's lips pressed against his own before he was able to finish his sentence.

'Yes honey, I can...'

*

Vincent showed up at 6 pm sharp, picking up an exhausted looking Jonah who had given his all to arrive at Archway station at the agreed time with his boss holding him up shortly before he wanted to leave the coffee shop and a signal failure on the Northern Line on top of it. They drove around for some time, passing through parts of North London Jonah had never seen before, the only landmark he recognised being Highgate Cemetery. Vincent seemed very focussed on his driving, so he didn't dare to address him, although he was still curious to know where they were going, especially since he couldn't fight the feeling that temporarily they had been heading south again.

The car stopped in front of a detached building that seemed to be made entirely of light wood and glass; Jonah already felt at home before even setting foot into the house.

'So this is were you live,' he muttered, 'I'm impressed.'

'I often work at home, so I prefer having a quiet and calming environment, you know, light colours, natural materials, floor-to-ceiling windows...'

'I really like it.'

'Wait till you see the inside,' he replied with a wink, leading him up to the entrance and into a light-flooded living room, beckoning Jonah to sit down on the vast sofa while he went over to the open-plan kitchen to fetch a bottle of wine and two glasses, pouring his guest and finally himself a drink.

'Cheers!'

They clinked glasses and while Jonah already took a sip of his wine, Vincent got up again, picking up his laptop from a desk in front of the window.

'We're not meeting just for fun, right?' he grinned while switching it on and placing it in front of his guest, 'Though of course we might have some fun later if you don't mind...'

'I don't mind at all,' he smiled back.

'Okay, but still – business before pleasure. I picked a text I worked on a few months ago – you're getting the original version, of course. You can have a try at it while I'm preparing dinner for us, alright?'

'Sure!'

'Shall I get you something else to drink while you're working on it?'

'A glass of water if you don't mind?'

'Of course.'

After he was fitted with everything he needed, Vincent patted his shoulder, gave him an encouraging smile and left for the kitchen.

Curious about what his task would be, Jonah opened the test1 named document and was confronted with a 10-page text. Vincent hadn't told him how long he was expected to work on the script, but he decided to just start right away and see how far he'd get until his host called him for dinner. First of all, he'd read through the text to get a feeling for the author's way of writing.

A few minutes later Jonah leant back, staring at the screen in front of him. What the hell...? Why had Vincent decided to give him something like that to edit? He was really testing him, wasn't he? The poor protagonist really had lots to endure in this text... Jonah sighed. Let's get on with it...

*

Vincent returned about an hour later, two plates in his hands.

'Dinner's ready,' he stated, placing one of them in front of Jonah with a smile on his face while sitting down next to him. 'Are you ready, too?'

'I think so...,' the younger one muttered as if waking from a dream.

'Hey darling, are you okay?'

Vincent leaned over, eyeing him with an expression of utter concern.

'Sure, I'm...'

He cleared his throat, trying to sound like his usual confident self again.

'This just isn't something I read every day – but that's probably why you gave it to me, right? To show me that it's part of the job to edit things you're not comfortable with, too.'

'You're right, that's exactly why I gave this text to you. So you would still want the job now you know what you might be facing?'

'Of course! As if something like that could stop me! After all, it's just fiction, so...'

'Thought you'd say that,' Vincent smiled, 'I'll have a look at what you wrote tomorrow and let you know how I feel about it. Unless there are any questions left?'

'In fact, I do have one question about the text, background story-wise...'

'Go ahead.'

'Why was he locked in a cage?'

'Punishment for disobedience,' Vincent shrugged.

'Nice.'

Smiling at each other to ease the tension, they reached for their plates.

*

'You are trying to make me drunk because you want to seduce me, right...?' Jonah mumbled, clinging to Vincent's neck and kissing his temple for the umpteenth time, still holding his wine glass in one hand while making himself comfortable in the other one's lap.

'Nope,' the older man answered, taking the glass out of his hand and putting it back on the table, 'You've been doing this all by yourself and I am putting an end to this now.'

'What...? Noooo, don't do that, Vince...,' he whined, but he was scooped up nonetheless.

'I thought we could go somewhere else... somewhere more... comfortable...'

Facing each other, they both started to grin at the same time.

'Bedroom?'

'Bedroom.'

Holding the younger one's hand, Vincent lead him up a wooden spiral staircase to the top floor that was set right under the roof, therefore being smaller than the living room downstairs, but appearing very cosy that way. A wide bed with beautifully carved bedposts made of the same light wood as the rest of the house dominated the room. Walking past a low table, Vincent picked up a glass bowl filled with strawberries before sitting down on the bed with his lover.

'Something sweet for my sweet boy?' he asked, offering one of the fruits to him.

Jonah didn't need to be told twice, opening his mouth and finally licking some of the juice off Vincent's fingers.

'You put sugar on them?'

'Life is bitter enough.'

'Mh-mh...'

Lying back, he grabbed for the tie Vincent was still wearing and pulled him down with him.

'You're too far away,' he whispered, snatching a kiss, 'And there are way too many clothes on your body...'

'Look who's talking!' Vincent chuckled, unbuttoning Jonah's shirt. The younger one tried to help, but his partner prevented him from doing so.

'Keep your hands over your head and let me do this while you relax...'

For a few seconds Jonah managed to do as he was told, but since Vincent seemed to have all the time in the world and took ages for every single button, Jonah reached down, intending to get rid of his jeans.

Vincent stopped his movements.

'Didn't I tell you to keep your hands over your head?'

'I've never been a patient person, you know?'

'I'll teach you to be patient, then...' Vincent purred, taking off his tie and getting hold of the younger one's hands, tying them to the bedpost with it.

Jonah moaned in annoyance but didn't object, kind of enjoying the feeling of helplessness while Vincent continued to strip him of his clothes. Still, something seemed off... it was getting harder to concentrate and he started to feel dizzy... he hadn't really drunk that much though, two glasses of wine in total, so this couldn't be the reason. Shifting in his restraints he tried to ease the feeling of lightheadedness, but it just wouldn't go away. Should he tell Vincent? He really didn't want to ruin this perfect evening... leaning back again, he tried to relax. Maybe it was just the excitement, the alcohol only adding up to that. He just had to stay awake, had to... With his vision blurring, he caught one last glance of Vincent, smiling down on him almost maliciously.

'You're mine now', he heard him whisper into his ear before he passed out.

[bexterbex]

A Soul to Mend His Own | Ch. 49

Warning, PLEASE CHECK TAGS IF YOU SEE SOMETHING YOU DON’T WANT TO READ THEN DON’T READ. Tag lists are closed

Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Will tag as I go along, Will update tags, Slow Burn, Influenced by Star Trek and other Sci-Fi themes, References to We Happy Few, Tons of References and quotes to George Orwells 1984 see if you can find them all, The First Order is the new Big Brother,  but who is really surprised, Blatant Nazi Symbolism, Interrogation Themes, Eventual Smut, Eventual Romance, Really just drawn out Slow Burn, Don’t repost without permission, Torture themes, Suggestive Themes, Execution themes, Disturbing Themes, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Verbal Abuse, Controlling Kylo Ren, Physical Abuse, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Kylo Ren is Not Nice, Kylo Ren Has Issues, Supreme Leader Kylo Ren, Possessive Kylo Ren, A character shamelessly based on Zelda Spellman

A Kylo Ren x Modern! Reader in a soulmate au with some canon divergence. —————————————SLOWBURN————————————–

He is already the Supreme leader, searching the universe to find you, his Empress. Your name on his wrist has been the only constant in his life, while you have doubts about his existence and his acceptance of you. He isn’t in the database and why did the name Kylo Ren cover Ben Solo?

MASTERLIST

Chapter 49: Playing Dress Up

You were woken from your sleep, by a kiss on the lips. You opened your eyes to see Kylo dressed in his usual uniform. “What time is it?”

You hear him chuckle, “It is time for you to get up Kitten. Your ladies-in-waiting will be here at any moment. I have things I need to attend to. So this is goodbye until dinner,” said Kylo who then left down the hall and out of your chambers.

A few moments later the door opened again, Adlez and Olivia-Rose were followed by the lieutenant, Cardo, and Ushar. You went to meet them.

You heard a distorted wolf whistle, “Looking good Pet,” said Cardo ogling you. You immediately crossed your arms in a failed attempt to cover yourself. You could see the lieutenant turning red and averting his gaze. Olivia-Rose rushed into your dressing room getting you a robe.

Adlez let out a loud gasp and turned around to face him. “That is no way to speak to her.” You could hear the anger and authority in her voice. They were almost chest to chest as Cardo challenged her.

Luckily Ushar threw his arm in front of Cardo pushing him back. “I can speak to her how I want,” replied Cardo.

Once your robe was firmly secured around you, you approached the group. “No, she is the Supreme Leader’s match, you must treat her with respect,” said Adlez.

Cardo puffed up his chest once more, pressing against Ushar’s hold on him, but you spoke before he could respond. “Especially when the Supreme Leader has already reprimanded you for such in my presence once before. Shall I call him down,” you ask with a tilted head and cocked eyebrow. You were not going to be playing my horse is bigger than your horse this morning.

You heard Ushar release a distorted laugh, “Lady Ren has got a backbone Cardo, you better not test her. I like her too much.”

A smirk found its way to your face. You watched as both of them backed away, to go stand near the door. Adlez gave one last humph before turning around and assisting you in your dressing room and told the lieutenant to wait in the dining room.

Once the door shut behind you, Adlez quickly joined Olivia-Rose in getting you ready. “How did last night go m’lady,” asked Olivia-Rose.

“Better, he learned some new boundaries. Like keeping his hands above my clothes.”

Both of the women laughed at this, to which you smiled in response. Their hands expertly taking care of you, dressing you in a similar relaxed outfit as yesterday morning. This time your hair was done in a casual elegant style, very old Hollywood. You could tell that Adlez was an expert in this style.

“Now that he has learned this, you can use it to your advantage m’lady. Teasing him and using any additional privileges like a bartering chip,” said Adlez.

“I like that idea. Although I may occasionally extend my favors as I wish.”

“Obviously, the Dark Lord is a handsome man. If I were you it would be very hard to keep my hands to myself,” said Adlez, finishing putting on a necklace for you, while Olivia-Rose applied your makeup.

“I have really tried to refrain from touching him anywhere else but his head. I might lose my battle with him as it would be too much for my brain to handle, and we might cross my imaginary boundary,” you replied. “Also, why did he choose you for me, if he was going to know that you would be helping me mold him into my will?”

Adlez let out a laugh, “He chose me because of my experience, my ex-husband was a diplomat on Corellia. Unfortunately, because the First Order took over his and my position were cut, and I no longer needed to be married to him. We are better off not married anyway. And because of this position, I now have access to a bunch of eligible bachelors onboard,” she gave you a wink. You saw Olivia-Rose blush at this too.

“I wouldn’t know about the selection you have available, just promise me you two won’t get into too much trouble. I already have my hands full with the Supreme Leader.”

Both of them laughed at that. You all got up to go have breakfast, the lieutenant was waiting in the dining room for you as were Cardo and Ushar.

“Would anyone like anything while I order? I know to get you a coffee lieutenant.”  You looked around to everyone.

“Coffee for both of us m’lady,” said Olivia-Rose referring to Adlez. Both Cardo and Ushar shook their heads.

While waiting for your food to arrive Ushar asked, “So what princess lessons are on the agenda today?” He turned his helmeted gaze to your lieutenant. Who swallowed back a lump of fear before responding.

“Lady Ren is free until her lessons after lunch. After they are finished she has dinner with the Supreme Leader,” replied Mitaka.

“So the princess has a free morning, what shall she do with it,” teased Cardo. You saw Ushar hit him again.

Adlez looked at you and said, “If you don’t mind a suggestion m’lady, Olivia-Rose and I would love to spend the morning styling you in various ways for different occasions. A test really to see what you like and what you don’t.”

You heard a distorted snicker come from Cardo, who turned to Ushar, “They are going to play dress up.”

You grew your backbone once more, “If you are going to be rude Cardo then there is no need for you to be here. You can safely guard me from someplace else if it is too difficult for you.”

You watched him stand and clench his fists before Ushar hissed his name and told him to get out. Ushar muttered apologies to you and the others before stepping out of the dining room himself.

You finished your breakfast with some idle chatter with everyone. Not really commenting on this or that. Preferring to eat without much distraction. Once you were finished you saw Olivia-Rose start to take the dishes into the kitchen and you told her to stop, that the droid would take care of it. She was just as out of place as you once were, not knowing how things fully worked.

You entered the dressing room and dismissed the lieutenant until your lesson. Both women seemed to be very happy changing your outfits and accessories and your hair and makeup. Taking you through this scenario and that one with outfit changes. Deciding what works together and what doesn’t. Olivia-Rose did well as she was there when you bought most everything.

“Now we should discuss your routine. I think it would be best for you to take baths every other day, to maintain healthy skin. We should also get a full regime of face masks in the works to keep your skin looking as young as possible,” said Adlez. You trusted her opinions on this, as her skin looked flawless. “We should also get a regular routine of body hair removal and nail care. I will work something out with the lieutenant to always have it in your schedule one way or another. Not taking care of yourself is one of the quickest ways for a man to lose interest. And it is in our best interest to keep the Dark Lord interested in you.”

You did take care of yourself but not to the degree that Adlez was speaking. It sounded like a lot of upkeep and work. But you trusted her, after all, she was right, you needed to keep Kylo interested in you, even though he had shown no real example of not doing so something in your gut told you that something was coming.

“I was wondering if we should take lunch ‘outside’? I would love to feel the sun on my face,” you asked them both.

“Of course m’lady, just let me check to make sure the simulated sun doesn’t give off any UVA UVB rays. Otherwise, we will have to lather your skin in sunscreen. The sun is aging’s best friend and one of your worst enemies,” said Adlez. She then left the dressing room to go check. She came back and informed you that it was all clear.

You three went to the patio and enjoyed the simulated sun during your lunch. This is where both the lieutenant and general found you when it was time to begin your lessons again. You all headed upstairs to the large sitting area once more.

Ch. 14 Part 1: Formal Dinners (para. 1-36)

Ch. 14 Part 2: Formal Dinners (para. 37-80)

Ch. 14 Part 3: Formal Dinners (para. 81-116)

Ch. 14 Part 4: Formal Dinners (para. 117-152)

Ch. 14 Part 5: Formal Dinners (para. 153-end)

Ch. 15: Dinner-Giving with Limited Equipment

Ch. 16: Luncheons, Breakfasts and Suppers

Ch. 17 Part 1: Balls and Dances (para. 1-53)

Ch. 17 Part 2: Balls and Dances (para. 54-end)

Ch. 18: The Debutante

“We will be throwing a formal dinner in a few days with some of the leaders of some First Order planets. You and the Supreme Leader are expected to be in attendance. I will also be there. This is your official debut as Lady Ren, so it will be very important. The Supreme Leader has left it in our hands to get you ready,” said Hux.

You were nervous. You were going to be at a formal dinner, with lots of people you didn’t know, who would be expecting you to be a lady when you weren’t one. This was something that you hoped Kylo would spare you from or something that he would have at least had the courtesy of telling you himself.

You were immensely grateful for Adlez and Olivia-Rose now. They would help you prepare yourself so you didn’t look like an idiot.

“Will I have lessons as to who these leaders are? And to what the rest of the galaxy is,” you ask fiddling with your hands.

“Of course m’lady, it is not my intention to allow you to attend unprepared. It is also the Supreme Leader’s wish for you to be as prepared as I can get you. You will not be alone at the dinner he and I will be there along with other First Order High Command members,” consoled Hux.

“Will Pryde be there?”

“Yes, m’lady, unfortunately, he will be, some of these leaders are the ones I was telling you about. Ones that were Empire sympathizers who like him. But this will be a good time to showcase yourself as someone they can trust. Do not worry, the Supreme Leader will be the whole time with you.” You could see the earnestness in his face. It calmed your nerves a bit.

“When will this formal dinner take place?”

“In a week, seven cycles time. We will be on the other side of the galaxy then near Arkanis. And it will take place here on board the ship, so you will be perfectly safe.” His reassurance did help, as did the date of the dinner. Although you knew that the anticipation may kill you. You were nervous, to say the least.

“Thank you for informing me general, is that all for today?”

“Yes, m’lady. I believe it is now time for you to prepare for dinner.” And with that, both he and the lieutenant left.

You and the girls made your way downstairs to your dressing room. They got out another simple dress and started working on another simple but elegant hairstyle, one that you had worked on earlier that day.

“Do not worry m’lady, we will have you prepared for that dinner, none of those old men will know what hit them,” said Olivia-Rose, voicing herself confidently for the first time.

“Exactly, we will make you the belle of the ball as they say. No one will be able to resist your charm, and if we do everything right, so will the Dark Lord,” said Adlez.

“I know, but I would have preferred him telling me this news versus the general. After all, I am his match, and this is my debut,” you said voicing your displeasure at the situation.

“Well then m’lady you will just have to show the Dark Lord that,” said Adlez while she changed the initial lipstick she was going to hand you. She then picked out a more alluring perfume for you to wear along with a pair of heels. “This will help show him just that. Keep him at arm's-length and he will be eating out of the palm of your hands in no time.”

You liked her thinking a lot. She was right; you needed to show him how it displeased you to have others tell you things that he could have easily told you himself. You were now playing his game, and he did not hold all the cards, but neither did you. But you did have a few aces up your sleeve and now was the time to play one.  

[cutegirlmayra]

When your tired after a 16hr shift yesterday so you rant about Sonic and explain why aggressive writing vs. neutral writing helps with sharing ideas

Me and my online Sonic friend talking about Belle.  (I’m skipping some dialogue throughout the chat, this was lazily put together lol)

WARNING: It’s long, and it’s a rant. So please note that I’m blatantly aware of how wrong my aggressive, sleep-deprived rant was and that I’m stating “DON’T PRESENT YOUR IDEAS LIKE THIS!” because this is not a healthy nor effective way of sharing ideas.

ALSO, ALL THE MENTIONS OF WHAT I BELIEVE MY FRIEND IS FEELING OR THINKING DURING MY RANT ARE ENTIRELY MY OPINON. If she tells me to delete something or change it I will without hesitation but I find it funny, as I look back, to insert what I think might be going on in her mind XD She might have been oblivious to me but I’ll get her thoughts and change anything if necessary.

It’s also how most trolls and antis and even some ‘not experienced writers’ write their ideas out, and it can be easily avoided by using Neutral Writing Methods. So this is a ‘don’t do this, but try this’ post. Enjoy my badly written, sleepy aggressive rant~<3 (Also, my friend gave me permission to share this lol)

Me: She could be for entertaining little kids. But we already have too many OCs, and they're not 'dying off' any time soon so...I smell a mini-series backup plan...and I don't like what that means for Sonic. And it is cute, sorry, my brain is off the hook right now, I'll keep things to myself cause you may not like what I'm predicting and I'm getting sad thinking about it ;-; so, want to be wrong.

(Friend mentioned “Tinker Bell” spin on name.)

That's precious, but can I get a link to the reference sheet plz? Reference sheets can tell a lot about a chara's functionality if you compare it to the 'needs' of the casts. it can help predict their role. I think she's meant to help but also entertain the kids, maybe planted with a secret. Her goal could be to come back to Mr. Tinker but Eggman abuses that and tricks her into a new robot. I got a weird theory about her but I'll just say that she's probably gonna go a bit dark. But be cute and make the audience go, "Aww, poor thing! She's a cinnamon roll" at first, wonder if they'll equip her with 'happy backstory, tragic ending' kinda thing to switch the usual 'tragic backstory happy ending' but I feel this is a tragic character meant to pull emotion out.

(Friend understands my concerns but mentions there hasn’t been a ‘Bad’ Oc for the comic)

No one sets out to create a 'bad character' especially professional writers like these guys. But what makes a character 'bad' is if you ruin or oversaturate their purposes. If she's a main character that over-shines others with too much story then the audience feels 'betrayed' because they want that screen time for the main casts to express themselves and shine through. That's just an example. When working with IPs like Sonic casts, you HAVE to remember the fanbase is expecting things Do you like my OCs? be honest lol Not from my prompts. There's a specific way to handle a OC that helps the main cast shine and reveals their characters more. AU Ocs help Canon Characters in many ways.

(Friend admits they have not seen my OCs in some of my fanfictions, they’ve only really read my prompts.)

Oh, well, some of my fanfictions have OCs, not Lavinya, she's just a mascot. My Sonic OC that retried XD Sorry, I'm misspelling a lot but I hope you don't mind, my spellcheck sucks and I've given up on it lol Oh, so you don't know Harmony, Ol'Wizzy, and Data?Or the Metal Series? Well, there are specific Ocs that my readers like and they express/compliment the canon characters to where even though they're a main character, they don't intervene with the Main Cast's goals. They actually help. Then everything I'm gonna say won't have much merit so I'll just focus on waiting to see if my predictions for Sonic IDW will come true, but I really hope they don't do what it looks like they strategically might be pulling... I hate SEGA marketing- 

(The beginning of my aggressive rant, please note that I’m not thinking about my image and am writing tired and lazy. This is an example of how NOT to express your opinions in negative ways. It doesn’t influence good at all.)

Their ploys are outdated and frankly, do not work for their IPs market. They target the wrong age group, they have no idea how to organize themselves, and they don't have a leading 'elder' so to speak (just a professional among them) to make good calls. So you have young adults (not super professionals, this might be their first real company job) trying to target internet culture and failing their IPs. They're doing outdated Nintendo tactics that only worked for NINTENDO! Also some other companies that have DIED so why are you copying their marketing strats!? stop! lol

Friend: Did you study marketing because this entire convo kinda flew over my head in terms of understanding (This should have indicated to me that my words were coming off too factual and had too many ‘jargons’ going on. I was losing my ‘reader’ through my rant, but my tired brain would not cease!)

Sonic's trying to morph into something he's not and they're following outdated college course books and it's not gonna help... they're leading Sonic further down and the creators in japan have no power cause all the power is in the stock holders who are stupid money-hungry americans who have lost faith in American SEGA leading SEGA of Japan to move on to other things

Friend: mostly just got you don’t like the marketing (Huge red flag! This means my friend is starting to tune my info out, it’s because I’m presenting my ideas in a slightly aggressive writing style. There are trigger words here that lead an reader to start doubting you. This is why, in most of my answer posts, I make sure to write Neutral writing methods, but I’ll mention that more after my rant lol XP)

It's just bad. Lol I have a Frankenstein degree, (Now I’m justifying myself, which was caused by my aggressive approach. If I simply stated this in a more ‘neutral writing method’ then I wouldn’t have to worry about creditability claims because I’m not trying to sell my idea as the high authority on it.) which means I have knowledge on many different fields. I never took a fully -dedicated- 'marketing class' I took a lot of different communication classes that went to my overall major. One was directly about how you present, sell, and look at marketing tactics. So I have my fingers in many different fields, my major was "Creative Writing for Fiction and Film with an Emphasis in Video Production and a Cluster in Theatre Arts." So I can be on camera, off camera, post and pre production, creative table and actual filming. Does that make sense? (I’m not fully awake to realize what I’m writing, but it’s clear at this point I’m starting to wake up and realize I’m ranting and tossing my ideals of how to present ideas out the window, but let’s watch my follies and learn from them, shall we?) I have theories on what SEGA is going to do, and I have my worries because it's all outdated. It worked for older companies but those companies also targeted a varying audience, which SEGA refuses to see themselves as for a 'teenage audience' which is exactly why they boomed in the 90s. Their target audience is now 20s.

Friend: There are Kids who also like Sonic, even if they don’t play the games though. (Due to my aggressive tactics from not thinking clearly about, not just the what, but the HOW I’m writing, it has turned my friend into a ‘contrasting neutrality’ which is amazing by the way that she did this! She noticed my writing was turning aggressively ranting, and being my friend, didn’t want to be rude about what she was noticing. -I’m guessing lol- so instead, she took the commentary approach, which is to state the good as well. This is a terrible position to put your reader into, and you should make sure to always have good examples and good praise mixed in to contrast any opposing or aggressive statements you ever make. -though you should avoid aggressive writing at all times- Sadly, this does put the reader, in this case my friend, in a very vulnerable position. It leaves them open for attack... but thankfully, she’s a wonderful friend and had trust that I wouldn’t hurt her on her counter-follow-up.)

So instead of using their 40 to 50 year old charts, start with looking at early millennial trends and desires. They tried for 'angst' to 'adultify' Sonic but it busted because we are STICKLERS for animation. Because their story was so scrapped together and had no actual character depth, motivation, or even emotional growth to develop for future game lore, they went for the 'easy made game' (Easy baked oven quote lol that’s just mean XD) We loved the trailer, it was well made, but they threw their animators elsewhere and made the programmers (WHO BLANATLY ADMIT THEY DONT KNOW HOW TO DO STORY/GRAPHICS) and made them do things they aren't trained in. Those micro-head movements and mouths took them A LONG TIME to figure out.

(My friend is now agreeing with me several times through my rant. This is a tactic that is used as ‘avoidance’ but also for ‘appeasement’. She’s probably tuned out by now, but respects what I’m saying but is also incredulous at it as well. It’s fair, I’ve cornered her into my sleepy-time rant, and being the lovable woman that she is, she is simply waiting for me to realize my follies lolol I wish she would have told me but I think she knew I was beyond ‘logical reasoning’ at this point and was just letting me get it all out lolol What a good friend TDT)

Animation can't be learned that fast AND expect them to program a game AT THE SAME TIME. Sonic Forces was a 'split up SEGA' trying to get those who survived and said, "Yeah, I'll stay in this job." to do things that THEY AREN'T EVEN TRAINED IN. you put a game programmer on animation and some other stuff they didn't know what to do with and expect it be a top-notch seller.

Friend: (in more attempts to join in and be a ‘participant’ of the conversation I’m clearly dominating -MY ABSOLUTE BAD- she tried to engage normal conversation flow into the discussion again. At this point, she probably did notice I wasn’t my usual self, and just decided to play along and enjoy the ride lolol I’m just guessing this tho, but it’s a good chance to reflect on what ‘wrongs’ I was doing and what ‘rights’ she was doing during this situation ;)b) My big issue with SEGA is that they rush everything. A lot of things would’ve been better if they had the proper time.

That was resolved actually.

Friend: Oh? It was? (Although this looks like an encouragement, it’s actually just another avoidance tactic to help me ‘get the venting out’ but it’s clear she’s not fully onboard anymore. When you write to discuss, you have to leave room for other’s opinions to shine through as well. Healthy conversation doesn’t mean forcing the other person to comply to you. A lot of this is educated guess based on past research, she knows this, and it’s clear she’s got her own research. Please remember to never shoot someone down when they try to engage you in your conversations. But again, this is the ‘don’t do this’ and me upset at my tired self for not waking up fast enough to contemplate how I was coming across in my wordings. Let’s continue to investigate and dissect the train wreck, shall we?)

That was an issue a few years ago but SEGA is taking their time, it's just that they can't organize themselves and hire the right professionals. They have old tactics, they have rookies that aren't 'Fresh Blood with professionalism' like they need. They don't need an old fart who knows his stuff, they need a new guy who is dedicated and passionate about their company who will remain there, learn them in and out, and knows his stuff SPECIFICALLY for the things SEGA needs. You have to grow that. You have to hire a very talented and young spunky and fresh professional, have him work with you for 10-15 years, and start training others. But SEGA is already recognized as a 'established' company.

(Friend is still agreeing with me, but is aware of my way of presenting it isn’t “As nice as I usually present it” so she starts mentioning the symptoms of Japanese Work Culture. A wonderful, insightful point to mention! But let’s see how I butcher this as well...)

It's not Japan though! (Again, shutting her down. Tsk tsk, sleepy me. Wake up, you lazy bum.) They won't let Japan interfere! They're all really rude to japan actually. The guys in charge, anyway. We all respect the officials, but SEGA of America people just want results. They are just funders, they don't actually work the company.

Friend: So you blame them for everything? (She’s trying to help me see that my writing is coming off as ‘hate’ which is because of my aggressive writing follies I’m doing so bluntly. Let’s please all admire my friend’s patience as she lets me rant and kindly waits for me to realize how bad I’m handling my 16 hr shift from yesterday lolol)

Look, business is really unfair, and I get that, but if I have to rant (I’m starting to wake up more, oh goodie.) I'd say they really need to humble themselves and ask Japan to please take ownership again. They kicked out people due to a money crisis but they need a game that will be 'safe to secure money but get enough excited momentum to help us push on and continue.' which isn't Japan's strategy usually. Japan likes risks, they also like money too. They trust America too much (especially in the beginning) because America is a HUGE consumer. For the world in fact. But I think they sacrificed too much for the company (common in Japan) and trusted America too much in making decisions. The officials are too nice to say that America screwed them over because America wanted full control. Well guess what? They have too much control now and their product is sinking..

Friend:  You’ve got a lot of fire about this topic. (After I completely disregarded reading her follows-ups and continued to rant, my unconditionally kind friend finally threw in the towel, realizing I was no where near my usually ‘present’ self and was probably just flopped back in her chair smiling at my idiocy of not understanding her kind and subtly hints.) Go ahead and rant it out. (BOOM! Obvious right!? I should have corrected myself but at this point, I was writing like wild fire with droopy, waking up eyes and didn’t even read it during my long paragraphs...)

Sonic won't ever fade away due to it's fans, but the company is struggling to figure itself out for YEARS now. I just worry what they plan to do next. But I have a theory that they are really putting the next game in Japan's hands, a lot of activity is happening in SEGA of Japan, and they're spending WAY MORE TIME on the next installment of Modern Sonic (or Classic, still unsure which one it is yet.) I really think they need a remake game to give them profit, then use that profit for their next big installment. But so far, I think they are working on a game BUT corona might have effected production so I'm sure they are working but I'm concerned if Corona helped manage 'time and quality' or is helping to ruin it...That I can't investigate yet :( I just wish for the best (I’M FINALLY WAKING UP FULLY AS I STOP AND REALIZE-) Sorry for my rant! My theory talk showed through and I don't usually like doing that so forgive me. I'm tired and that's why T-T

Friend: It’s cool we all need to rant sometimes. (My friend’s going to make it to Heaven TwT she’s so kind.)

(Then I profusely apologized a billion times cause I realize how badly this all went down. lol)

(But the terror hasn’t ended... she mentioned some youtube videos mentioning other opinions as well. -which I’m usually cautious of cause some of them can be fanon.-)

OHhhh did he mention the arcade crash??? the literal WORST event in SEGA history??? That's literally where they sank the titanic, SEGA has never recovered from selling off their stocks. (I’M BACK AT IT AGAIN. -facepalm-) Shareholders are everything now and it's the biggest loss ever. Also, the problem is that kids don't play the games, (Rereading my follies and wanting to answer but still only just waking up...) but SEGA can't figure out why they like the characters and can't seem to take the FREAKIN' TIME to learn their lore. (Overwhelming the conversation again.) My easy steps: Re-establish Sonic lore CANONLY AND CORRECTLY, Re-gather the Japanese Officials original plans and notes, guides and study art, Re-make some popular games with the most details on Animation, Fluidity of motion graphics, and with modern Technology incorporated into the game. Once that is accomplished, they will have enough money to then- Create a continuity. Only with a flowing story and relevant past lore can they start moving forward. Animation will target their audience, Story and character re-established arcs will bring nostalgia and new blood to the field of their games, and then Japan's influences will keep it authentic for the continuities so we don't have fandom mixing with canon NEARLY AS BADLY as before anymore. Ugh, it does matter their sales, but I literally bought a book on the history of SEGA, and read a really compelling history article about more then just the Console Wars... I know SEGA has survived literally the edge of extinction on multiple fronts, but someone needs to take charge of their Sonic branch, and it's... it's just too outdated. kk, sorry for the rant.

Friend: (After being multiple times ignored, even after my brief moment of clarity, is still an angel. Frustrated, maybe, but an angel.) And your steps sound really good. Also mostly just listen to his vids if you ever do. It’s ok we all need to rant. (THE WORLD DOESN’T DESERVE THIS GURL T-T)

I'm tired so my 'angry' is showing and it's not professional XD do you mind if I post my rant? lol Actually, no. (Realize how awfully I delivered my ideas, this is where I begin to see my errors and where the clarity comes into play. -we all have our off days lol- )

Friend: Go for it

I want to but it's too aggressive. I'm too lazy to rewrite it out so I'll just save that for another day XD You got a rare treat

Friend: (This is actually interesting and fascinating to her. But she realized then that I finally did see my error.) Concerned you’ll get aggressive responses back?

Honest opinion is sometimes too blunt and I need to be careful about that

Friend: I mean it’s always good to try and get most of the anger out so you seem more professional (Saint. Literally. A saint. She’s puts up with too much of my crap XD)

That, and also the war of 'But this is Cutegirlmayra? She's so sweet and constantly puts her answers in supportive, positive lights so that if SEGA were to see it, they would feel empowered to try it instead of threatened and throw it off as hate or something unprofessional.' I have an image too. I can't post something super aggressive or I'll lose trust. You're right.

Friend: I’m glad you put a lot of thought into everything you post

I apologize for it tho T-T I didn't mean to dominate with such opinions...lol I worry who I influence, you know?

Friend: Most people don’t and trust me they get into trouble cause of it. And yeah.

I don't want to create trolls or heated arguments. I want to teach people they can safely express an idea without using such awful communication. Exactly, it's professional fanism. lol Positive writing is what companies and their employees actually read. (I’m almost fully awake now lol, realizing my blunder and starting to explain why I was in the wrong. Good on me, pat on the back, admitting I was coming off as aggressive is the first step to changing and getting better lolol Also, I’m including her more, and I’m saying “You’re right.” and she’s going “And yeah.” which is a indicator that the conversation is slowly returning to an enjoyable and healthy one. ;w; happy endings lol)  That's why I skip the aggressive stuff, even if it's passive, I write in a neutral setting so everyone feels safe to read, even someone who works at SEGA.

Friend: (Mentions some nintendo youtuber rant and also news as well, then says-) It was honestly very professional sounding and not rude. (MY HEART, YOU KNEW THAT WAS AN AGGRESSIVE RANT lololol So nice to me TDT)

Lol you had to have seen how slightly aggressive it was tho. (I’M CALLING YOUR BLUFF, BESTIE lol) You literally asked, "You blame America for it?" which is not always true but semi-true. They were way too prideful (Aggressive word) and haughty (Still aggressive terminology) about their success in other Japanese products that they wanted to completely change Sonic to their own wishes, pushing out Japan's creative "licenses" (I use this word loosely, and this gives a slightly aggressive feel but is also more dumbed down so it's more 'passionate' than just aggressive)

Friend: Yeah I saw it was slightly aggressive (Either is starting to realize it or at last admitting it now that I am fully aware of how I was coming across. I also used indicators to show what words were aggressive to help illustrate my point. This is showing I’m much more awake now :)b)

Gotta use those neutral tactics or no one will feel comfortable just reading your idea and instead, will constantly look for a place to intercept with aggression back, whether they agree or not, they're looking for ways to self-insert their aggression if you are also aggressive. I can't write something that doesn't somewhat support and uplift SEGA of America. Why? Because like I said, they literally have survived EVERYTHING and have stuck around. Without them, there wouldn't be an American branch and the money issue would have ended SEGA. Some might say, "But they've done so much harm than good! Why is the money thing such a thing to be praised for?" But it's huge, it's so big, it kinda does offset the wrongs. (Now I’m doing the healthy thing, doubling back and mentioning the good to try and recover. The damage may be done, but she did recommend some videos for me and was polite, so I’m just trying to smooth things over and leave on a ‘wrapped up’ conclusion. But... I should have just left it there in all honesty xD Some things you can’t double-back and correct lol) America is a great business-influenced mindset. None of us would be fans of Sonic without them.

(Friend continues to agree but realizes I may slip into ranting again. She just asks if I can watch the videos.)

America does have it's advantages in some fields and areas, but their biggest most redeeming quality is that they saved SEGA which gave us our biggest love and obsession: Sonic. Now, my usage in that writing was still off neutral, but combined with the slightly aggressive statements, made a GREAT contrast. It's still slightly praising

Friend: And they stopped Japan from giving him a human girlfriend right away.

Me: Exactly.

Friend: I will always thank them for that. (She’s still a sweetheart, working herself into the conversation so it stays healthy. lol Such amazing follow-ups too!)

So although I don't like what's happening, I'm also grateful... to a degree lol We need SEGA of America, which is why I think Japan just ignores them now lolol they know they owe them a lot. 

(Friend mentions videos and as I go to save them to my ‘watch later’ sees that one of them is about Nintendo.)

Yeeeahhh I've noticed that Nintendo is starting to trail into 'cash grab' tactics and that's sickening (MORE AGGRESSIVE WORDING??? HAVE YOU NOT LEARNED YOUR LESSON CHILD?! It takes time to fully wake up lolol) cause before, I literally thought, "Nintendo can do no wrong" their marketing was ON POINT! but the stuff they said about Peach and now... I think new, unprofessional blood (like SEGA) has entered Nintendo and the older guys are either 'training' or 'retired to other ventures'. Nintendo is having it's own 'we used to not be prideful but now we're getting a little too pompous (Another aggressive wording... This can easily trigger people to comment with further aggression either against you or for you, but no aggression is the ideal. Which is continuing to show my lack of remaining conscious lol) about ourselves' and they're starting to act like Disney before their big crash. Disney also had 'limited time offers' with their VHS movies. Now, Nintendo is doing that. They'll make money, but at what cost? When you lose your costumer's trust...

Friend: And yeah the 35th Mario thing immediately reminded me of the Disney vault

Me: Yep. I'm worried for Nintendo. Don't get me wrong! Disney is really good with money grabs, but they... they also act high and mighty (More aggressive statements, wake up, darn it!!!) and their fanbase literally calls them 'an empire' so the fan-trust is gone. That makes you 'lame/outdated' and fans begin to look for 'what's cool?' instead.

(Friend is now re-realizing I’m ‘in and out’ so is trying to use a effective avoidance tactic by asking about different things to help my ranting fully stop.)

Sorry, I'm tired, I get on these rants and I don't mean too. (Trying to shake myself awake again.) I'm sorry.

So we returned to a healthy conversation, but I hope this interesting insight has revealed how to and what not to do about Aggressive Writing. Always stick to Neutral writing if you can, putting in a compelling counter-argument. In this aggressive writing demo, you saw that I tried to cover up my follies by saying counter-praise, but praise writing can be just as bad as aggressive writing. Passive writing can sometimes be annoying (aggressive word choice) too if you come off as disinterested or uncaring, which can still result in negative comments coming at you, or someone overly praising in their writings.

This has been all I’m showing you cause it’s kinda embarrassing ^^; but I hope it helps you in what ‘not to do’ while writing your ideas out :)b

Learn from my sleepy-time mistakes! lol