#change that option. devastating every time it happens what the hell am i supposed to eat now? should i starve!? tf man so rude

[nerdie-faerie]

The audacity of my mum to ask if I've tried a new meal yet as if I would ever try a new meal for anything less than the pain of death

[raineydays411]

Oh,what am I supposed to do without you.

Loki x daughter!reader pt 2

Summary: You never knew your mother, but from the journal your Uncle Thor gave you, you knew she was a special women. You also knew that you were the splitting image of her.

Masterlist

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Loki’s POV

Silence. That's all he heard now. No more sweet laughter. No more soft humming as she walked through the garden. No more mumbled words of love and whispers of sweet nothings. No all her heard was silence. Silence in the chambers that once belonged to the both of them. Silence as he walked the halls of a busy palace. Full of people but he was always alone. Silence..in the nursery that has been empty for nearly sixteen years. The bright beautiful colors, dull and covered in a layer if dust. But what else is new, everything has been dull since his beloved has died. 

After he had his daughter sent away, Thor had been on more off world missions. He would leave for long periods of time and only come back to visit. Frigga would look at Loki with disappointed and pitiful eyes, that he would pointedly ignore. And while Loki managed to pull himself together and leave his room, he still had this dark depressing cloud over him. He was barely holding it together. 

He was just...dark. His mischievous ways became cruel. Harmless pranks he used to play turned into mean tricks. His dry wit became cruel taunts. And when he wasn’t tormented people he was distant. There have been several times maids have found him staring out windows or at walls just lost in thought. Thinking of the life he could have had. A happy life with his wife and a child. 

If only...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Y/n POV

Millions of light years away in Midgard, or earth, there was you. Y/n Odinson. After being sent away by Loki, Thor had taken you to live with Heimdall wanting to keep you close and true to your asgardian roots. But with Heimdall being the literal guardian of worlds and you growing to be a rather curious child, it wasn’t really a good match. So Thor took you to the only other place he could think of.

The Avengers HQ.

At first the team wasn’t too fond of the idea. Having a kid running around a superhero base isn’t really ideal. But after a while you won them over. Everyone absolutely adored you. Tony bought you any and everything you ever wanted, Bruce was your go to for advice, Steve doted on you and played with you whenever you wanted, Natasha was your self proclaimed aunt, and Clint was your fun uncle. Hell even Bucky found himself wrapped around your little finger. Yes, you had a wonderful life indeed.

But even though you could have anything you ever wanted, you still felt like you were missing something. Your parents.

You knew you were an asgardian. Your uncle Thor made sure you stayed true to your roots and you remembered the little time you spent on the planet. But you had no idea who your parents were. Every time you asked, Thor would always manage to change the subject. Other than the Avengers, who were more like aunts and uncles, you didn’t really have parents.

Now you knew you didn’t need them. You had a whole family of people who loved you like their own. But you couldn’t help but feel like there was something missing.

It wasn’t until a few days after your sixteenth birthday that you learned the truth. 

See you always knew you were asgardian, but never knew who your parents truly were. You couldn’t remember your life in Asgard, much less your parents. Thor refused to tell you who your parents were. The most you got out of him was that you looked almost exactly like your mother and that she was the sweetest person he knew. 

So when your fingers started turning a light blue and ice started shooting out of them, it was a little surprising to say the least. It happened on your birthday. Tony decided that it would be a wonderful idea to throw you a surprise party. And usually, you wouldn’t mind it as you’re actually pretty good at socializing. But ever since you woke up, you haven’t been feeling too well. Your head has been hurting, you felt light headed, and you just felt cold. Your hands and toes felt as if you were standing in the snow for hours.

 As you were walking into the common room, the Avengers and some of your friends popped out, scaring the absolute crap out of you. Resulting in you pulling an Elsa and then passing out. And while everyone fussed over you, trying to figure out what the hell happened, Thor was planning on taking you to Asgard.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After persuading the team ( specifically Bucky and Tony), you found yourself behind Thor as he was greeted by a man who looks a lot like Idris Elba. 

“Heimdall!!” Thor boomed embracing the man “It’s wonderful to see you again my friend.” 

“Thor, its been too long!” Heimdall says with a smile,” Does the all father know about our dear visitor?” He says, golden eyes looking into yours. Your face grows hot under his gaze as you smile at him shyly. His face softens at the sight of you.

“Y/n, welcome home” He says with a nod of his head. Your eyes widen as you distinctly remember not telling him your name. Thor and Heimdall chuckle at the look of surprise on your face

“Moonlight, Heimdall was the first person to take care of you before the Avengers” Thor said chuckling. 

“Oh, then its lovely to see you again” You say, not really knowing what to say.

Heimdall smiles and whispers to Thor, “ Does your brother know about this?” 

Thor winces, “No...” 

Heimdall stares at him for a bit before rolling his eyes. “My dear” He says to you,”You’re uncle is a buffoon.” You giggle at his words. Not understanding the severity of your presence.

“Come Y/n, lets get you settled in.” Thor says and you say goodbye to Heimdall, walking across the rainbow bridge in awe.

As you walk through the streets of Asgard, you noticed people staring at you. They whispered to each other as you passed by. You thought it was because Thor was home, but you had a weird feeling. 

“Hey, uncle Thor?” you whisper

“Yes darling?”

“Why are they staring at me?”

“Oh...uh. ....cause you’re dressed in midgardian garments. when we get to the castle we’ll get you something to wear” Thor says nervously. You squint at his excuse. “Okayy” you say weirded out by his behavior.

Finally reaching the palace, you look around in awe. It looked like something out of a fantasy book. Thor lead you through the halls when a beautiful woman sped towards the two of you. 

“Thor!” she said wrapping him in a hug.”welcome home my son”

“Mother” Thor says hugging her back,”I have missed you”

“Oh this is Frigga” you think to yourself. You feel a slight pang of jealousy, seeing Thor be embraced by his mother. But you push that thought aside when they break apart and Thor beckons you over. 

“Mother...this is Y/n.” He says slowly. Frigga freezes at your name. 

“Y/n?” She whispers, looking at you with wide eyes. She steps closer you you and puts her hands on your face and stares into your eyes.

“Oh, I’d know those eyes anywhere.” She says. “ Oh darling”

She pulls you into a loving embrace, startling you. “I haven’t seen you since you were but a babe.” she holds you at arms length. “Oh you...you look just like..” She stops herself, shaking her head and wipes away tears. “Look at me, crying all over you” 

You smile,”It’s okay, its lovely to meet you.” 

Frigga laughs,” Yes, I am so happy you are here. Come, let me show you where you can rest.” As she leads you out of the room, she turns to Thor and says, “Thor, don’t forget to mention our guest to your brother.” And with that she wraps her arm around your shoulders and leads you to a guest room, asking about your life and interest. 

You answer, blissfully unware or the dread running through Thor's body at the thought of confronting his brother.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Loki's POV

Thor slowly walked to the chambers, regretting every choice he  has made till now. He knew there were two way Loki would handle the news. He’d either go ballistic or completely disappear for however long Y/n was there. 

For his sake and hers, he'd prefer that latter option.

Finally reaching his room, Thor stood in front of the door. He was trying to figure out how to tell Loki his long lost daughter that he disowned was in the palace. Oh and she doesn’t know who her parents are. And that him and his team of superheroes have been raising her.....and that she has ice powers. 

Loki, sat in his room reading noticed shadows under his door. Rolling his eyes, he thought it was the maids again. They always hesitated to knock on his door. 

“What do you want?” Loki says in a monotone voice, opening the door only to his his brother standing their with a sheepish look on his face.”Thor.. you’re home.”

“Brother! How lovely to see you” Thor said loudly. “ I just came to ...uh..came to..”

Loki looked at him in irritation and confusion. “Came to what?” 

“Came to invite you to dinner!” Thor said grinning nervously

“What? no flowers?” Loki deadpanned 

“Oh hush brother” Thor said. “I have been away for so long, and I would be overjoyed if you came to my welcome home dinner.” 

“If I agree, will you leave me be?” Loki said. finally irritated with his brothers presence. 

“Yes!” Thor said. “ Wonderful...”

Loki looked at him weirdly again and nodded, but before he closed the door Thor started talking.

“Brother, tell me, how have you been?” He asked

“Wonderful, now do you mi-“ “Be honest.”

Loki glares at his brothers words and stays silent for a while. Then he sighs and steps aside, letting Thor in his room.

“I don’t know.” He finally says, looking down at the floor.

“You..don’t know?” Thor repeats, not understanding the response.

“Yes. At first I was devastated, I was angry. But now...now I feel empty. Like there’s something in my life that I’m missing.” Loki sighs again, looking out the window. “Every time I look, there she is. Sometimes she’s reading in the garden. Sometimes she’s helping the maids. And sometimes...” Loki stops himself, tears forming in his eyes.

“Sometimes..?” Thor prompts gently as he slowly walks to the bookshelf, leaning against it.

“Sometimes I see her staring at me. Disappointed.” Loki finally says, his back turned to Thor as he lets his tears fall freely.

“Loki..I am certain she understand.” Thor says, “ would she be upset? Probably.” Loki tenses at his, his brothers words sting at his heart. “But, she knew you. I think she’d prefer her child to be well loved.”

Loki nodded, still not facing Thor. And because of that, he didn’t notice Thor swipe a particular journal and replace it with another book.

“Well” Thor said suddenly,” I should be off, I promised mother I’d help show our guest around.”

“Our guest?” Loki said making a face at the thought of socializing.

“ Oh yes.” Thor said walking out of the room, “ a princess of some sort, I believe”

Loki rolls his eyes, he knew if royalty was visiting, he’d be forced to dress up and make stale conversation.

Meanwhile, Thor walked down the halls, with a beautiful leather journal, that belonged to a certain girls mother. And a plan in mind.

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Taglist: @mika-dannielle @brightsunanddarkmidnight2-0

[renegadeontherunn]

hello fiona my love, hope you are doing amazing - i am so excited you are doing prompts!!! AAAAHHHH could you do 29. "you're a really bad liar." with obi & soka?? or really whoever you want!!! ily queen

SAM MY LOVE!!!!! AHHHH THANK YOU FOR THIS ASK AND FOR YOUR KIND WORDS I HOPE YOU'RE DOING WONDERFULLY TOO ILY!!!!!! and thank you for being my first EVER prompt fill!!!!! 

29. “you’re a really bad liar.” // from these prompts! // read it on ao3!

Ahsoka doesn’t look at the Temple.

She can still feel it—that gentle warmth and familiar glow—wherever she goes, but she doesn’t look at it. And it’s fine. She doesn’t need to see it to still feel the gaping hole where the Jedi used to reside and she shoves the Force away at every opportunity.

Ahsoka pulls her cloak tighter. The nights have been getting colder and colder and she finds herself missing the Temple (and its inhabitants) more and more.

She looks over her shoulder again on instinct, half expecting to see Anakin or Master Yoda, or even Rex. But there’s just the usual blank, dark faces of the Coruscant nightlife and Ahsoka breathes a sigh of sad relief. If she can just get off Coruscant, get to a new planet, maybe somewhere Mid-Rim, then she can actually relax. Then she’ll be free. Ahsoka shakes her head, arms wrapping around herself.

She shouldn’t have to worry about being free.

The diner she steps in is nicer than most of the ones she’s frequented in the weeks she’s been exiled, and it’s late enough to not be crawling with too many sketchy figures. The Force simmers as the little bell dings to announce her entrance, and so Ahsoka keeps her senses sharp. A quick reaction can be the difference between life and death. She’s learned that enough times.

“Ahsoka.”

There. Ahsoka’s shoulders tense up immediately, her whole body freezing, and she squeezes her eyes shut. Of course. Of course. Ahsoka thought she wasn’t sure if she wanted to see anyone—each check behind herself was bittersweet, would it be better to reconnect or is complete isolation the safest option?—but as soon as the quiet, surprised word drifts into the air, an anvil slams down on Ahsoka’s chest and she wishes she was anywhere else.

She could leave. She could just turn around and walk—run—away, hide back in her seedy apartment with the moldy ceiling and rusty door. But something, be it obligation or pride or just plain shock, forces Ahsoka’s head to her left and she locks eyes with Master Kenobi.

He’s dressed exactly as she remembers: a few thousand layers of robes with no doubt the hundredth brown cloak wrapped loosely around his shoulders. There’s a full cup of what looks like cold caf nestled between his hands. Ahsoka tries not to walk too woodenly over to him, screaming against her own body for betraying her.

Not now, not him, not this.

His face is paler, a bit more sunken than it used to be, or so Ahsoka thinks, but his face is all pleasant surprise and familiar, if a bit hesitant, warmth.

“Please, sit down.” He gestures to the seat across from him.

Ahsoka’s heart lurches. “I’m good.”

A beat of silence. She sits.

His eyes scan her face. “How are you?”

“Fine,” she answers automatically. Oh, this is not going to go well.

Obi-Wan doesn’t seem fazed. He nods. “That’s great.”

More silence. Ahsoka tries not to fidget, fails; tries not to stare, fails at that too. And her flailing attempts to squash the surging anger inside herself—well, you can probably guess.

“What brings you to a place like this at such an hour?”

Ahsoka nearly huffs. He hasn’t changed a bit. She can’t decide if that’s comforting or . . . disappointing. “I could ask you the same thing.”

Obi-Wan nods again. “You could.”

She doesn’t.

“Would you like something to eat?”

Ahsoka’s mind goes on the defensive immediately, though she knows that’s completely off the mark. Does she not look like she can support herself? She doesn’t want—or need—his help, his charity. Ahsoka is perfectly fine on her own, thanks (for nothing), and has no desire for unsolicited aid.

“No.”

Obi-Wan doesn’t flinch, but Ahsoka feels like he wants to. Like this conversation is somehow pricking his chest with bitter pain. Well, that makes two of them.

“I’m glad to see you’re alright.”

Ahsoka bites her tongue hard, fangs digging in deep enough to make her head pound.

Obi-Wan’s brow twitches, lips pulling down into a pretty good impression of concern. “Ahsoka?”

“What do you think you’re doing?”

He blinks at her. “I’m sorry?”

Ahsoka’s eyes widen and she huffs in near-incredulous mocking. “Are you?”

His face darkens a touch. “Ahsoka—”

“Stop.” Force, why hadn’t she just walked out? “Whatever you’re about to say—don’t.”

But Obi-Wan has always loved talking, and Ahsoka should know that. “Ahsoka, please. I understand your feelings toward—”

“No you don’t.”

Obi-Wan’s jaw clicks shut.

Ahsoka’s face grows warm. “You can’t possibly imagine what I’m feeling, what I went through, other than your own part in it.”

“You’re right.” Obi-Wan’s hand is out and Ahsoka can’t remember if it always used to shake like that. “I misspoke. But I do know that you’re hurt and you have every right to be. I am so sorry.”

If this conversation doesn’t end soon, Ahsoka is either going to start throwing punches or sobbing and neither is a great look for her. “Okay.”

“If I could go back—”

“Well you can’t. And neither can I, but I guess that’s life.”

She’s purposely trying to goad him; fighting has always been easier than talking and maybe if they’re both angry, then Ahsoka won’t have to deal with the regret and guilt and fear and homesickness. But Obi-Wan is not so easily led.

“I only wish to explain, though I know it can never fully alleviate the pain of what happened. May I?”

Ahsoka can’t think of anything she wants less than to hear what he has to say. She wants—she wants Obi-Wan to stop talking, wants him to feel her devastation, she wants him to see how she is crumbling beneath the weight of what his Council has done to her.

“You all expelled me. You lost faith in me the second you got the chance to jump ship.” She chokes back tears. “The Jedi were supposed to be there for me—you were supposed to be there for me. Like family, right?”

Obi-Wan looks half on the verge of tears too.

“Ahsoka, I never lost faith in you, you must believe me.” He reaches for her. “I promise you, I tried everything in my power to speak for you in the Council, to try to prove your innocence.”

Ahsoka scoffs, feeling more bitter by the moment. “Fantastic job. Do you want applause?” She’s not sure where all this pent-up rage is coming from; she’s spent enough time meditating, considering the situation, her decision, trying to look at every angle. It’s been months. She thought she was past it. Or, at least, mostly past it.

“I understand your anger at me, I feel it myself. I completely failed you in your trial, Ahsoka, don’t think I’m unaware of that.” Ahsoka’s nails cut crescents in her palms. “I wish I could’ve done more—I should’ve done more.”

“You know what? Yeah, you should’ve. But this isn’t about you, Obi-Wan.” The name is sour on her tongue. “If forcing all this guilt on yourself somehow makes you feel better, be my guest, but you don’t have to burden me with the guilt of not absolving you from it.”

Because Ahsoka does feel guilty. She wants to forgive him and have everything go right back to the way it was, she a Jedi, he her partial Master, the three of them more like family than anything else. Her own stinging words churn in her stomach, half her brain raging against the other half: accept what’s probably your last chance at that old happiness or fuel the retribution you’re convinced you deserve. And she doesn’t know if she actually deserves it. And more importantly, she’s not sure Obi-Wan deserves this.

Haven’t they all been through enough?

But Ahsoka has never been good at thinking before speaking. And it’s a hell of a lot easier to feed the wolf craving vengeance than to scale the high road.

“Ahsoka, I am so sorry—”

Tears stinging her eyes, Ahsoka grabs her cloak, nearly knocking her chair over, her eyes never leaving Obi-Wan’s. “You’re a really bad liar.”

Obi-Wan flinches like he’s been struck.

Ahsoka lets the festering rage in her chest slither up to her tongue, lashing out in the empty air. “You’d think you’ve had enough practice.” Her voice is rough, harsh with stifled tears, words ripping holes where affection and warmth used to rest. All Ahsoka feels now, though, is scraped raw, and frustrated, angry confusion, and . . . and something else she doesn’t have time for. The door handle is cold on her blazing skin.

“Ahsoka!” Obi-Wan grabs her arm. She tries to shake him off, but his grip is too strong in its desperation. “Please, listen.”

Tears are dotting the greasy floor now and Ahsoka doesn’t know if they’re hers or Obi-Wan’s. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that, I—” She’s still pulling away. The bell on the door is ringing.

“Ahsoka—”

“Just let go!”

The Coruscant air is freezing on Ahsoka’s face and she wrenches her arm away as they burst out of the diner.

They turn to face each other, blue eyes to blue eyes, two strangers with far too many memories.

“Ahsoka.”

And his voice is home and friendship and comfort and Anakin and the past.

“I’m sorry.”

The air is too stuffy, her chest too tight. There’s no room for the past in the scathing pieces of her heart.

She bolts off into the darkness.

“Ahsoka!”

[mooglesorts]

man. it's weird, because there's a lot of things about me that are Very Badger Primary, to the point where i would probably pick it with a strong bird model over anything else at this point... except that i hate dehumanization. i saw primaries described recently as 'things you wouldn't be you anymore if you went against,' and more than just about anything else that's it. even when i think people are monsters, i can't see them as not human; i'd be hard put to define exactly what i consider a 'monster,' but it's more about like. good faith than personhood, i suppose?

it's not necessarily a permanent status to be one--people can change--but my deeply held instinct is that once you have done something monstrous you will always be a person who has been a monster by your own choices, and that it's your duty to learn how to accept that while still living your life, and act accordingly from thereon out. you have to reconcile that you are a person with the fact that some doors are closed to you now, and it's up to you to decide what you do from there.

just. like. even when i hate someone and as far as i'm concerned they can go fuck themself, even in the multiple Heavily Badger social environments i've been in over the course of my life--church, progressive circles, the way the structure of the internet kind of just affects you in general--even on occasions where i've gotten swept away and given in to the pressure to dehumanize (or perform it) for a minute, there's always, always been a voice in the back of my head saying this is a person. this is a person. this is a person. this isn't right.

unintentional dehumanization sets off my '...should we really be doing this? we are getting into not good territory here, it's time to pull up and start questioning' alarms. explicit, intentional, purposeful dehumanization sets off the whole ass tornado sirens. if people on my side are doing it it's enough to throw me into a system-destabilizing crisis, because NO NO NO I WANT TO GET OFF THIS RIDE, I WANT NO PART OF THESE PEOPLE'S MORAL SYSTEM, I FEEL UNCLEAN. it's a good way to make sure i will never, ever, ever trust someone again.

things that are Really Really Badger, off the top of my head (after the cut because Long and trauma talk):

[[MORE]]

---

-i've always loved playing adoptable games, pet simulators, etc? any game with randomly generated characters that are Yours Now and a Community, in a deeply badgery way. including games where they can die (the satisfying part is making sure they don't). except that, no matter how much fun the gameplay is, if it gets to the point where they start feeling disposable, and the only way to really keep playing is to stop humanizing them, i lose interest. it's super fucking depressing. it feels like part of me dying inside a little. i don't like it at all.

-i've always been drawn to fandoms and roleplaying communities. i was fiercely loyal to, and proud of, my first rp community on dragoncave as a 13-year-old. when my abusive mom found out about it and completely isolated me for half a year, the promise of being able to make it back to them--just sneakier this time--kept me going; when i finally got back and the group had drifted apart in my absence, it.... was absolutely devastating. i never really recovered from it. even then, i spent years trying to get the group back together every now and then, until i finally gave up.

-i am always keenly, painfully aware of the life cycle of a community. every time i hear the sentiment 'you guys are all great and i love this group' my stomach drops, because i know it's only a matter of time before things go sour or the group dissolves. rp groups, skype chats/discord servers, fandoms, you name it, i am always bracing myself or staying away entirely to avoid the inevitable and it hurts. and it hurts to see people taking part in a community i don't dare be part of, which makes lurking in fandoms... really rough. frankly, it takes me a lot of courage every time i express my appreciation for the shc community because i've been burned so many times.

-on that note: i went through some really traumatic stuff at the end of 2020 that completely turned my life upside down, and i was doing bad until i stumbled across the shc community. the moment i started engaging, it was a huge boost to my mental health, and my ability to cope with circumstances under which i was about to break down spectacularly. and it has been ever since! contributing to The Group Project and seeing other folks being friendly with each other gives me the happy feelings.

-i used to go out of my way to build and run spaces, mainly fandom and rp spaces, and took a lot of pride in engineering them so that they Functioned Well. unfortunately it wore me the hell down over the years for Burnt Badger Reasons, and now i'm too jaded, bitter, and exhausted to give a shit about being a mod/community leader anymore because of it lmao

-among those burnt badger things i relate HARD to the Red Ledger narrative. hoo boy.

-i wish i could find it again, but there was an mlp comic i saw once which went into luna's observations of what each element of harmony Means. with the element of friendship, she says that twilight has a massive amount of love to give; right now it's all focused on celestia, but when she learns to expand it outward she'll have grown into her full potential as a person, and she'll change the world. that struck a chord with how i used to feel, hard, and it's really stuck with me ever since. (hello, unhealthy snake model)

-emphasis on 'used to feel,' lmao

-got super invested in a really toxic '''mental health''' community at a low point in my life; exploded HARD trying to help everyone i could; got into vicious, protracted fights with the shitty mods for years about the harmful way they ran their community until i finally managed to go 'fuck this it's not getting better' and leave.

-had to numb myself emotionally to the people around me for a long time once i really started learning about mental health and trauma stuff, because now i was seeing signs of their pain and baggage everywhere i looked, and i couldn't handle not being able to help.

-the imagery with which i think about my bird primary is overwhelmingly negative. whether it's my actual primary or a model, i uh. i feel like a healthy relationship to one's primary doesn't involve associating it with gore.

-i saw a conversation recently about how birds think of morality in terms of 'if you can, you should,' and how that's scary for badgers because their definition of 'can' involves destroying yourself for the sake of that 'should,' and... yeah, that's a mood. that's a BIG mood. thinking about bird primary stuff is hard--and i had to pick up my lion model to deal with it--because it's so easy for me to spiral into a self-shredding spiral of other people are counting on you to do the right thing, how dare you pull back for your own health and sanity. how dare you turn your back for even a minute. how dare you rest. the work is never done.

which is... a very exploded badger approach to exploded bird morality. whoops.

-fix-it and time travel fiction in which Everything Went Right This Time and It's Going to Be Okay are one of my very favorite self-indulgent fantasies. i will enjoy putting characters through the wringer in all kinds of creatively horrific ways which may or may not end on a downer note, certainly, i love that shit, but i will also 90% of the time have a backup version of the arc or dynamic that's softer and lighter and Actually Healthy This Time. it's the dichotomy there that really gets me tbh, a story where Everything Ends Happily by default will mmmaybe pull me in? but stories where there's the constant shadow of this could end horribly, it's supposed to end horribly, and we got a happy fucking ending anyway are just... that shit will make me cry, man.

it's also why i kind of really hate stable time loop stories where it initially looks like this is going to be The Good Timeline this time around, but OOPSIE everything went to shit anyway! we're right back where we started, just like it was meant to be all along! it's a tired cliche by this point and an unsatisfying one for me, and it makes me roll my eyes every time.

-this is relevant to the bird vs. badger because like... my gut instinct is to prioritize people over systems. when shit hits the fan, when someone's fallen into the machinery and is about to get hurt, i don't feel right about it if i just let it happen. i'll break the machinery if i have to to keep it away from them; i won't feel great about that, and it might cause problems, but fuck it, we'll figure it out later. throwing people into the gears of a system when i'm convinced it's the only option makes me feel Awful.

-related to the above, another trope that really speaks to me in fiction is when a character defies the rules of reality through sheer force of will. no, this is not happening, i don't give a shit what the limits are supposed to be. i refuse to let this be the way things are. (there's that lion model.)

-i've just kind of... always wanted to be an Everyone Badger. it makes me sad how much of that i've lost over the years as i've gotten more cynical, but it's what i wish i could be.

---

doubtless i'll think of more the moment i hit send, and there are just as many things about me that are Super Bird Primary, but like... mamma mia that's some spicy badger. the main thing stopping me is the Can't and Refuse to Dehumanize bit. i also... hm. i think i can function okay without a community? they just help a lot, and it sucks when i'm confronted with one i don't have a (stable) place in. any thoughts? is it possible for a bird system's foundation to run so deep that eventually it overrides the bird?

[motherstone]

When you have the time could you share the bad au?

Anon, I am deeply grateful that you asked, but I must warn you that this is LONG (16+ arcs long and that’s because I havent conceptualized the others yet) and i am only sending you pt.1 Be warned.

More under the cut:

Deviation from canon:

·        Anything involving the aliens is dropped

·        Algos island won’t be a gas station, but an actual fucking island

·        The Voice is spiritual in nature.

·        The Old is New scene occurs around Book 5

·        Trellis eventually gets some fractions of his memories, but I dunno how yet

·        The Resistance at Frontera won’t be THE Resistance but the Elven resistance – they refused contact with the human resistance because they’re very discriminatory and hostile. The ER is composed of the researchers/engineers/etc and their kids that the Elf King failed to purge when they revolted once they fully realized that they are actually creating weapons of mass destruction

·        Emily gets trapped in the Void

·        There’s a whole lot more, but I can’t recall all of them

Note: Do take that these are not yet properly developed. Many of these are ideas I just enjoy playing around with. It WOULD not put much attention to most characters because a.) I haven’t nuanced their roles nor what part they should play in the story and b.) the narrative focuses on Trellis because I’m biased and ngl the potential of the story he could create is a LOT. He has sooo many potential conflicts, be it in self, society, and nature I couldn’t help myself. Also, do take note that this story is meant to be a tragedy – it’s going to explore Trellis and his reign, and the burden and subsequent consequences from it. The narrative doesn’t seek to “punish him” because 90% of the problems he encountered are out of his control and there is barely a perfect solution to anything, so he is bound to create ruthless and even questionable decisions as a result of his inexperience and young age despite his intelligence; all of these I am intrigued to explore about because all of it I just made up lmao.

In addition, my head blurred between what is canon, what I want canon to be, and what you know about the “canon” in my head (which is likely, not a lot because I never post abt it), so I may suddenly spout things that may seem out of context because you guys lack the background behind it. So if you have questions, pls feel free to send them my way. These arcs are INCREDIBLY condensed because if I spout too many details, I’d forget the details in other arcs. So. Yeah.

ARCS

STONEKEEPER TRIALS

-      Guardian Council arrives at Algos Island which contains the knowledge to purify the Voice from the Elf King (which should weaken him and thus easier to kill him)

-      Stonekeepers of past made sure to put security measure to prove the worthiness of the person seeking said knowledge and using it responsibly for the right reasons by subjecting them to a Trial (they will experience their deepest greatest desires and greatest fears as well)

-      Technically, the knowledge isn’t a concrete thing – it only works once per keeper, but it modifies itself to fill in the gaps of the knowledge they lack but seek (so like if youre seeking how to heal, the Temple will give you that knowledge and THAT knowledge only)

-      Lacking time, all three decided to take the Trials separately but at the same time.

-      This is supposed to be the fic on ao3 is about, even had an outline n all but its too long so I’ll post it later

-      tl;dr: Tellis finished first and is the one who gained the knowledge, and Vigo finished second, but Emily isn’t waking up at all. Eventually they all got attacked by the shadows

-      Trellis sends Vigo up to get the airship to them as he stays behind to protect Emily from the shadows

-      He’s getting super desperate as the enemies increase but Emily isn’t waking up until she suddenly transforms and tries to kill him

-      He barely survives but the Firebird gets away. The rest of the crew retrieved him, but when he retells them what happened…

-      They didn’t believe him. They think he sabotaged Emily.

BURNING OF IPPO

-      It more or less goes the same in Supernova, except the memory thing doesn’t happen and none of the Amulet trusts him except Riva and Vigo. Leon Miskit and Karen are still on Cielis while Navin n Aly are on Frontera but they don’t know that yet.

-      So the firebird attacks as usual, but instead of taken out early in the game, he is pushed to the limit protecting the city and its citizens as he’s the only one who can create a barrier while Vigo distracts FB and Riva evacuates the people

-      Trellis also bothers to release the elf soldiers in prison when it burns so they would be able to evacuate (will be important)

-      He nearly dies from exhausting himself, but manages to repel the FB to leave Ippo alone after much of it is burned. He is devastated by the aftermath because most of the people burned right in front of his eyes (will be important)

-      Worried at FB’s destructive power, they argue between pursuing it or ending the war. Riva argues trellis can’t go around protecting every city as its too fast for them, so it leaves only one viable option; end the war as quickly as possible to focus on Emily before she  burns everything and kill everyone

-      They eventually reunite with the Cielis army, but eventually gets abandoned again alongside the human resistance because they refuse to serve under Trellis, who was going to command the assault

-      Lacking an army, the elven, Luciean, and Ippoei soldiers then offers to help

-      They reconvene with the ER on Frontera, finally reuniting with Navin, Aly and Pil, who were all horrified by the news. Navin has mixed feelings but ultimately agrees it was his fault and is optimistic Em will be ok. Aly on the other hand is apprehensive but continues to trust him.

-      Meanwhile, Vigo departs to convince the CA to change their minds and get more allies, while Trellis, Luger, and the rest forms a plan…

BATTLE OF VALCOR

-      Trellis pretends to be captured by Elf Army to get close enough to the Elf King to kill him – avoiding as much bloodshed as possible. Unfortunately, he was decided to be executed before he could confront him so all hell breaks lose as the disguised soldiers ditches their disguises and fights the remaining EA on the king’s side

-      Note: Trellis is waaay more powerful and skilled here although his destructive powers are nowhere near Emily’s

-      He tries to make his fights as curt and decisive as possible to avoid wasting precious energy for the confrontation (I swear to god the fight sequence is more elaborate in my head but hnng I’m busy rn). Eventually he does make it at the temple of kings – where his father was waiting

-      Trellis was nowhere weak, but he barely holds ANY dice against his father’s power and was very close to nearly dying

FALL OF THE KING

-      He was saved by the timely intervention of Vigo and Riva – who has finally arrived with the CA (who got threatened into cooperating)

-      They barely get the upperhand, but they manage to get Trellis close enough to enact the Scission but, got uphold by the fact that the man they were trying to kill wasn’t dead in the first place but ALIVE

-      The Elf King begs Trellis to end it all, the mercy of release, for death, and it horrified him into freezing into place – MISTAKE

-      He gets a fatal wound being stabbed because the EK was tricking him (he is alive, but he was not really manipulated by the Voice – He was always evil all along), sneering at his softness that was never quite wrung out by the abuse

-      But that also gave Trellis the perfect opportunity to cast the Scission, which he then does at nearly the cost of his own life

-      The Voice gets cut off from the EK and retreated to the Void, and the EK dies from his wounds, and Trellis was about to meet the same fate

-      All three of them are barely held together by threads, but Vigo uses the last of his power so trellis could survive. At this, Trellis just has a mental breakdown and he doesn’t want to go any further, being so close to his breaking point because of all the horror he has to endure (ohh boii and it doesn get better from here)

-      But Riva was pleading for him to get up, get the mask and get to the other side, to show the mask, the soldiers that he WON and Gulfen surrenders and end the war. These two stumble slowly, but steadfastly, Riva practically the only thing supporting Trellis as they try to get to the fighting

-       They eventually manage to reach it, but trellis has to stand alone, composed, undefeated, because if it were anything less, people would challenge him. He declares a surrender.

-      The battlefield silences. One by one, the weapons drop.

[primedirection]

The Difference

This is the final part of the series I hope y'all like it! Either way let me know. Fair warning though this is long.

You're somewhat of a hurricane once returning home and getting past the barrier of the door. Sweeping up and through everything you think you might need. Clothes, electronics, toiletries and more tossed into a suitcase.

You had no idea where you were going but anywhere was better than staying here to deal with his insufferable aloofness.

Thankfully you retrieved a headstart by ubering here with Gemma. Who was not only worried about you going off alone, but admittedly didn't want to risk giving off the impression of taking Harry's side by riding with him.

The quiet calm of the house is only temporary though, seeing as it's ruined as soon as he arrives. The very energy of it seems to seep and drain out at the sound of his voice in the distance. Arguing with Gemma about where you are. Which inevitably doesn't take long for him to figure out.

Without needing to look you can feel his gaze burning holes into you as he takes in the sight of you packing. A sharp surprised breath breaks the silence just before he urgently pleads, "Y/N, can we just talk for a minute,"

Especially after coming closer and seeing your almost full suitcase.

"We did that, and you still didn't listen. I'm done talking!" You reply aggressively shoving a perfume bottle inside of a side compartment. It was a favorite and you'd be pissed if you left it. "Now, I need some space,"

"Space for what?"

"To figure things out— to figure us out. I can't do that here,"

"What is there to figure out? We're getting married in several months. I love you, you love me. We love each other right?" Getting frustrated with spectating you going back and forth from dresser to suitcase, Harry takes it upon himself to interfere. Grabbing a top you just picked right out of your hand to make you focus on him.

Which was indeed annoying but it's more of what he said that bothers you, "Don't, don't do that,"

"Do what, what the hell am I doing now?!" He asks exasperated, raking his fingers through the front of his mane.

"Making it seem like I'm the one who had doubts all along! That's not true and you know it's not. You're the one that's had a funny way of showing it while I've been in this waiting for you to come around, and I can't keep doing that to myself!"

Taken aback he frowns hard, "That's not what I'm saying at all Y/N! I just meant that we're supposed to be spending our lives together why does this small thing have to change that?"

See this is why you wanted to go, you can feel your bugged eyes almost fall out of your head, "Small thing?! Harry we have major fucking issues!”

As usual he's in denial, "So what? No relationship is perfect, that's the whole point of working on it together. That's what makes it worth it,"

You snatch your top back out of his hand and blindly toss it in the suitcase beside you, "Together? Harry I don't even know what I did wrong for you to start treating me this way in the first place. It honestly feels like nothing I do is good enough for you anymore,"

Harry abruptly pauses at that, your words finally resonating with him. And if his crestfallen face was any indication of it, you'd swear that they bore an immense weight.

Not sure if it's to steady you or himself he halts you in place by the forearms pleading, "Stop, yeh don't mean that,"

"Yes I do," you sullenly affirm pulling away.

To hear you say that like it was the only thing that your were sure of, gutted him to the very core. Literally knocking the wind right out of him. You are his entire world that kept him going most of the time. How could he have fucked it up that royally bad to the point you couldn't see it? It profoundly terrified him.

He had to fix it, "Y/N you're more than good enough,"

Understandably so, you don't want to hear it, "Since when? Hmm? You said so your yourself, my little blue collar office party certainly wasn't."

In his current state of unnerved contrition, panic gets the best of him, "I never said that. Now you're puttin' words in my mouth,"

"Am I? Okay, lets pretend that's true.. It doesn't matter. You still never want to be around me. Hell I'm not even good enough for you to take the time out of your day off to work on our wedding! So why are we doing this?" You deadpan.

"Y/N, I admit that my timing was shit with Ken and you're right I really shouldn't have taken work out on you. I've been a right selfish prick. But just cos' I fucked up, doesn't mean that I don't want to be with yeh,"

You mutter a tongue in cheek, "Hard to tell," devastating him even more.

Being on the receiving end of the disparaging only makes him desperate, and in every sense.

He clutches onto you again, "Yeh know I love you, Y/N!" Defiantly you stare at the bed feeling yourself getting emotional, because you wanted to belive that again without doubt so badly. The menacing tightening in your chest and throat bring on the burning threat of impending tears. "Look at me lovie please?"

Sooner or later you do, annoyed that a few manage to escape. You wipe them away angrily with the back of your hand, "What?"

The look on his face is not only distressed but tormented, "Don't leave. Look I get it, I don't think about making you feel loved like it's something I've got to get done everyday. Yeh know? Like everything else, but it is and I'm going to from now on! I promise,"

"You've made promises before, how do I know that you'll keep this one?"

His hands slide down from your arms to hold both of your hands firmly. You noted as something he did out of habit whenever he wanted to stress something important to you, "Cos' anything else for us is not an option. I'll do whatever it takes,"

It's always sad when anything has to get to this point. But of course as reality would have it, nobody is perfect. As people we do need room to make mistakes in order to grow. Harry included. Faults aside, he was still very much the love of your life. For that he at least deserved the chance to prove himself.

Especially since he seems to be aware of his own errors now and finally taking accountability. It was the only way to move forward.

Although still perturbed in time you relent, "Fine. But I don't want to hear anymore talk of weddings or marriage until you prove to me that you're all in. Not until we're both sure that this is absolutely what we want,"

He wanted to argue til he was blue in the face that this is everything he wanted but settles for a relieved, "Okay then,"

Harry should've known that he was pushing it when he went to hold you right after, but he couldn't help himself. This very opportunity was on borrowed time and he refused to take it for granted. Even if it isn't reciprocated and is void of all enjoyment.

When he let's go you don't even look at him, you just get back to sealing and securing your suitcase. Which scares the life out of him, "Wait where-"

You sigh irritated, "I still need some space. I can't be directly up under you right now."

He wasn't estatic about it. Watching you brush coldly past him, but he'd compromise for you staying in the room down the hall over other extremes any day.

****

"You're on in ten!"

Harry should be used to Good Morning America by now after all the performances he's put on here, and yet here he was pacing. His stomach had been in knots from the moment he woke up this morning.

Normally the first shows were always the best and yet the worst. New music meant new reactions and although he trusted the unyielding support of his fans, others that weren't so nice would hear it as well. Which honestly wasn't so bad, it's just when he has to get on a stage and see their live reactions for himself is usually what's so nerve wracking. This time though he was a nervous wreck for one reaction in particular.

On cue of the third second his eyes land on the empty sofa across the room once again. He hadn't been able to stop checking for the past two hours. You said that you'd be here.

A couple weeks have passed and your relationship was very much still on the rocks. Apologizing helped to put a stop to your hurt but did nothing to mend the damage that was already done. Blatantly shown in the distance you kept.

An entirely new barrier went up between you. For all intents and purposes you moved into the guestroom. You'd be gone before he got up in the morning and in bed asleep before he even got home, even on days off. So affection and any room for proper communication were really off the table.

You were thoroughly guarded and while he kind of understood after so many ridiculous: It's over! Caught Red handed in wedding boutique with ex! headlines launched. He still hated every facet about it.

The new resentment from trying to explain the situation to family members, the total separation while under the same roof, the bullshit single word responses whenever he'd try and have a conversation through text when you actually were apart, or the way either of you didn't laugh together anymore. It was driving him absolutely mad.

He had talked to Anne and Gemma asking for advice on different occasions, pleading his case of how you wouldn't really speak to him, and they both managed to say the same thing: It's your fault!

Which wasn't necessarily wrong, but he needed an actual solution in order to fix what was happening. There wasn't much he could do with your jaded demeanor but he refused to give up. He had to do something to prove that he was still in this and not just to go through the motions.

Eventually Harry came up with the idea to extend an olive branch of sorts. To fix the parts that he had initially fucked up to show you that he is really going to change.

Today marked the start of one his biggest shows on the schedule. The first official televised live performance for the new album, and he couldn't think of a better moment to share. So he kind of purposely blocked you in the driveway the other night so that you'd have no choice but to talk to him in order to leave. And he didn't waste the opportunity to ask you to come hangout backstage before he went on for support.

As he suspected you'd been reluctant, especially given the last rehearsal that you attended, but overall you did agree and he was thrilled. But as time passed on up until the day of the show, that thrill shifted to excitement, and when the hours dwindled down to minutes before going on that excitement morphed into worry. He called twice earlier but received no answer. None of his team had received any sign of you arriving at the venue either. And as he walked through the curtain and onto the stage his hope was fully crushed.

****

Despite being able to force himself to go through the performance with a smile and all the bells and whistles. He couldn't withstand the facade of it any longer once the moment was over.

Other than disappointment he didnt know what to feel.

The band offered to go out to celebrate their phenomenal return and he politely refused. The urge to get an explanation consumed his every thought and was the highest of priorities at the moment.

So here he was pulling into your shared driveway at his earliest convenience. Noting the majority of lights on in the house and the unfamiliar vehicle parked out in front.

Inside the sound of your cheery voice alerted him instantly. Is this how you were normally when he wasn't around? And if nothing was really wrong then why didn't you show up or at least respond to his phone calls?

The answers to his inquisition come in the form of you sitting on the sofa, head tossed back in laughter nursing a glass of wine and you're not alone. At first glance he questions the random massive bloke in his home, but as Harry wanders closer he realizes the bloke isn't so random after all.

He'd seen him a zillion times in yearbooks and family photo albums and had even been introduced a few years ago. Since then every encounter with him had always been the same. Now Harry didn't like to use the word hate because it was really strong, but he absolutely hated Noah.

Anyone that knew Noah knew that he had a massive thing for you. They knew that he'd probably been pining for you from the moment that you met and at every opportunity given he'd try to weasel his way in.

Harry could admit to being unbearably pathetic when he was jealous, but Noah always managed to bring out the absolute worst in him by getting directly under his skin.

Above the borderline creepy and annoying core that made Noah... well Noah, was the exterior of layers that he put on and he put them on very well.

Not only did he get an insane amount of leverage for being your childhood bestfriend. Noah was charming and in a way that gave Harry a run for his money. Speaking of money Noah was rich and successful in that he owned his own company, that usually up until now kept him busy and away from you. In Harry's personal opinion, worst of all, Noah was devilishly handsome. Dark thick hair and brows over blue dreamy eyes and a strong chiseled jaw and cheeks that were neatly covered in hair that connected smoothly in which Harry could never attain himself. He couldn't even begin to get started on his physique. Noah had more muscles than Harry knew what to do with.

At the thought Harry could've sworn that he cut himself just from the tight grip that he had on his keys. The sharp sting pulling him out of his reverie.

"...sorry he's not usually like this it must of been one hell of a show...” Harry barely registers you addressing him or that he's been made out.

"Should be careful with that, didn't one of his band mates struggle with his hearing due to the high pitched little girls?" Noah adds and Harry's nerves are immediately irked.

"Noah, didn't know yeh were stopping by would've made proper arrangements if I had," Harry greets lacking any and all enthusiasm. Imagining barricading all the doors and windows just so he'd think no one was home and leave for good.

"Hopefully I'm not intruding. Work had me really swamped and I just thought I'd pull my head out of my ass for a moment to properly congratulate my friend. She works so hard, the least I could do is show my face,"

That stupid fucking face... Harry thought.

"Noe, you've already sent flowers and all that you don't have to explain anything to me I totally get it," you gently reassure and Harry finds himself aggressively rolling his eyes. The difference in your reaction is baffling to him.

"Of course I do." Noah's gaze narrows, but as he takes a sip he seems to remember something. "Mmm, I know it's not much, but I did bring some gifts. For the new office.." Placing his glass down he reaches towards the ground and retrieves a gift bag for you.

You open it absolutely giddy, "Oh my God Noe, this is so cute thank you!" You smile genuinely grateful for the personalized mouse pad; a picture of you two from graduation, a day that had truly changed everything for you both. Then a few inspirational plaques and framed art pieces to hang up.

Meanwhile Harry feels extremely out of place in his own home watching your face light up like fireworks on New Years. He also doesn't miss the smug side eye Noah gives. "I've got one just like it in my office too,"

When a smile to match graces Noah's face, Harry's hand begins to sting again. Fucking creep!

To his ultimate annoyance Noah isn't finished yet. Reaching in his pocket and revealing a black box too, "And...this is for the anniversary party, I know you'll find something perfect to go with it,"

Your eyes widen three times their size at the sight of from what Harry can see is expensive jewelry, "Noe this is, I- I can't accept this,"

"I'll be genuinely offended if you don't," he smiles openly smug this time, sitting back and swirling the wine in his glass. "I've had it revamped but it was my grandmother's. I promised her on her death bed that I would give it to someone special,"

Harry isn't suprised when you coo and thank him a little too much for his liking. But Noah's pretentious show almost made him miss the important part of what he just said. Slowly he puts two and two together, "Anniversary party? Your parent's?"

"Yeah it's this weekend, Noah's my date," You reply disinterested, eyes still glued to the gorgeous necklace Noah brought.

Harry isn't so sure where to begin with that information, but the lack of said information is a start. "I see, and where was my invitation?"

At his tone your gaze meets his and it's peeved to put it mildly. He had no such place but for the sake of your guest you play it cool, "I know you've got work to focus on so I thought I'd skip bothering you. Plus my parents love Noah,"

"It's probably for the best man, I can't imagine that you'd enjoy walking into the lion's den," Noah for some reason finds it appropriate to add teasingly.

Harry struggles to restrain his offense, "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Let's be honest, Y/N's family doesn't live under rocks. They're not very happy with you," Noah grimaces with a condescending shrug and sip of wine.

Harry is easily baited and enraged by his gall, "And how the hell would you know mate?"

Knowing that it normally takes quite a bit for Harry to get worked up, nonetheless to the extent of fighting, makes this situation all the more alarming. Noah hardly uttered two sentences and Harry was unnecessarily on edge. You literally step in before further escalation. Leaving your spot on the couch to somewhat drag Harry out of the room by the hand, "I don't know what the hell your problem is, but you need to relax."

"What's he even doing here?" He demands.

"What do you mean he's my best friend, why can't he visit?!" You whisper incredulous.

"Oh okay... so it's cool for yeh to do it but I can't have one bloody drink with mine without yeh making a fucking scene for the world to see? Got it." He sneers.

Harry's clearly baiting you into an arguement and you nearly fall for it until you realize that Noah would hear everything you're saying. So instead you opt out, "I'm not going there with you right now. Go take a shower or do some fucking yoga and we'll talk about it later."

At your dismissal Harry scoffs and shakes his head disappointed. Surprisingly he relents, roughly brushing past you and heading to the bedroom, "Right, whenever that is."

****

It didn't feel right to have Noah stick around after that embarrassing exchange. So you apologetically promise to reschedule and thankfully Noah didn't seem too bothered by it. Squeezing you goodbye and offering that you call if you needed anything. Which low key meant brute force for Harry.

Rooms away Harry had to actively pretend like he couldn't hear you and Noah laughing. He wanted to drain the noise out by getting in the shower but he didn't trust Noah enough.

His nerves were on a distinct edge until he heard farewells exchanged and the front door finally closed behind him. But they teeter off once you grace him with your presence because he's wildly upset. You enter stoically and sit criss crossed on the edge of the bed. Watching him flutter about stripping down and collecting things for a shower.

"So you're family doesn't like me now? That's great." He retorts flustered tugging his shirt by the hem and pulling it over his head.

Harry seems to do his best putting on this angry front, but you know better than anyone that he's really just hurt about your parents. Usually he was enamored with them and vice versa so to find out that they didn't invite him really cut deep.

With that in mind you try to cut him some slack, bracing yourself for his misdirected frustration, "They're just not happy with you, huge difference,"

Indignant he turns to glare at you, "Same difference actually and what the hell happened to yeh today?"

"He just showed up when I was on my way out, and I couldn't just leave it felt rude. Plus I hardly get to see him because of our schedules,"

Harry bit his tongue to refrain from arguing that you obviously had been in contact when Noah sent flowers. Instead choosing to focus on issues of today, "And yeh couldn't call me back?"

"Again it felt rude to interrupt him just for that. I thought I'd have more time to-"

"Just for that? Yeh don't think it was rude to leave me hanging and checking non stop for you to show up?" Harry suddenly snaps.

Which is annoying but you couldn't entirely fault him for it, since you'd been in his shoes and knew all too well exactly where he was coming from. Today's show was a huge deal and you missed it, point blank. So you honestly admit, "Yes I do think it's rude given I know exactly how that feels, but I didn't do it on purpose. Sorry," You're met with silence as he simply shakes his head and turns his back to you, unbuckling his belt and unbuttoning his jeans. Pure curiosity makes you push the envelope, "I guess it's a bad idea to ask how it went?"

He scoffs pushing them down his legs, "When I feel let down and disappointed, yeah."

This conversation was going nowhere and fast, "Okay then... Never mind." You give up and head towards the door.

But he apparently isn't finished, "Were yeh even gonna tell me about your parents anniversary party?"

"Yes," you confess, crossing your arms and lean against the doorframe.

Gruntled disbelief consumes his features as he tosses his worn clothes into the hamper, "Really? Cos' yeh already made plans with Noah without consulting me,"

"I only did it for you! They're upset Harry, do you really want to be on the opposing end of cold shoulders and side eyes? Not just by them, but by my aunts and uncles and cousins too!"

"Can't believe yeh told them in the first place," he mutters not so under his breath wandering into the closet not really knowing what he was looking for.

His blame game was beginning to piss you off now, "Did you forget that they were there with me? I didn't have to say anything, and they read blogs and comments like everyone else. What did you expect?"

On that note, in true stubborn Harry fashion he avoids addressing the problem anymore and in the process jumps the gun, "It's fine— it's fine, I'll fix it. I'll just get them a really great gift for the party and-"

"You shouldn't go, it's not a good idea," you quickly protest. Knowing how fast the party would become a shit show specifically on his behalf.

Though of course he's not thinking that way. Wholly offended he concludes, "I shouldn't go or yeh don't want me to?"

"Both," You admit and it makes Harry immediately see red.

"Why? Cos' yeh rather show off Noah and how great he's always been to yeh?" He seethes.

"No, because if you go it's just gonna draw unnecessary attention and I really don't want to deal with that," You argue.

”So how am I supposed to fix it then?" He deadpans in a tone so cynical you're not quite sure if his question is rhetorical.

"I don't know, just send the gift with me and I'll-"

For some reason your solution sets him off, "Do yeh not realize how incredibly insincere that is? I'm not some bloody coward that can't own up to mistakes and needs yeh to fight my battles for me!" He shouts.

Forcing you to yell back, "I know that! But there's a time and place for everything and their party isn't it. If anything it's better to just start with a peace offering,"

He rolls his eyes and suddenly deems it appropriate to remove his boxers and throw them in the hamper as well, "Didn't know we're at fucking war,"

"Well they're my family they care a lot," You sigh averting your gaze defeatedly, feeling an all too familiar dismissal coming on. After all, how long was he going to stand around naked? But just before you grant him some privacy and leave you decide to beat him to the punch.

"You should be worried if they didn't."

****

Secluded a little less than an hour later in the guest room, Harry knocks on the door. Peering in hesitantly once you call for him to come in. You're in the middle of coordinating your outfit for work tomorrow so you don't initially catch his newly calm mood.

Only offering a rather cold and distracted, "What do you want?"

Harry lingers in the doorway not really sure what to do with himself, "Em... To say goodnight... and apologize,"

Your expression is nothing short of skeptical when you inevitably turn to look at him, "For what?"

Harry's terrible posture deflates even more after releasing a forlorn sigh, "For being a shit person,"

"I'm listening," You goad unsatisfied with just that.

Harry anxiously scratches his temple, "S'not an excuse but I guess my feelings were hurt. One thing after another and it just felt like it was all on purpose. And well... I did what I did and said what I said,”

He was right there wasn't an excuse, but you could respect his honesty. So you grant him permission to sit on the unoccupied side of the bed and reward him with some of your own, "Even if I wanted to get back at you it wouldn't be like this. I know how much you love my parents and how much Noah bothers you— for whatever reason. If I was just going to play games of who could hurt who more, I wouldn't even be here,"

Relieved to hear that, Harry feels safe enough to indulge more of where he was coming from, "I know, I just... I don't know he's got the muscles, the company, and he's got that cool macho beard and mustache thing going on. Yeh always call mine a crustashe!" You laugh at that but do genuinely appreciate the candid insight.

For his comfort you sit beside him, "Because I prefer you fresh faced, I like that you're adorable and wholesome looking!"

Harry smiles and his dimples pop but it still doesn't quite meet his eyes, "He's already done things for yeh that I never did,"

"Like what?" You drill curious.

"Getting yeh cool stuff to decorate you're office...and I haven't even seen it," he gestures sullenly toward the paintings leaning against the wall.

Now he was being ridiculous, "Harry it's literally just a room with a desk and computer. And it's stuff I can easily buy myself,"

Still he sulks, and eventually you realize that this is meant to be more of an overdue explanation rather than a episode of debunking his worst fears. So you let him continue.

"I never told yeh, how proud I am. Yeh were hurting and I should've said it then, cos' it was the least I could've done. But I was so set on waiting for that perfect moment and wanting it to feel organic, but then everything happened and I thought it might come off like I was obligated to. So I thought it would be better if I didn't say anything at all, and it was the complete opposite,"

You couldn't begin to describe how much this clarification meant to you. For so long it's all you wanted. Why couldn't he just say that?

"Well what's stopping you now?" Optimistic you nudge his shoulder with your own, "I thought we established a long time ago simplicity goes a long way,”

For the first time since he entered this room he looks you properly in the eye. He almost looks scared. Biting down on his bottom lip he carefully reaches for your hands, in which you allow him to hold firmly. He takes a deep breath before speaking, "Y/N, I am deeply honored to have someone like you to be a reflection of me out there. I love your ambitious, go getter, never say quit attitude, and I couldn't ask for a better inspiration that makes me want to be the best I've ever been everyday,"

Flattered your eyebrows raise to nearly meet your hairline, "Wow... Yeah if you had said that then it would have probably saved us some trouble down the road. Definitely didn't enjoy having an existential crisis thinking you were ashamed of me."

"What?" His face drops in unfiltered horror, "Love no I- .. I'm such a dipshit! I'm so sorry!"

Looking back now after getting his side of it you can't help but feel like you overreacted. It was honestly embarrassing, but knowing that there is no way to change the past you shrug halfheartedly, "I mean better late than never though,"

Harry looks at you as if you have three heads and shakes his, "Please stop being so forgiving, you're making me angry at myself all over again,"

You squeeze his hands this time, "Well don't be, I don't want to be angry with you anymore. You already apologized for it we're supposed to move on,"

Not so easily swayed Harry pulls his own hands free. In fact he feels so completely undeserving to even be in your presence he stands from the bed. "Yeah but your feelings are real, they matter and I was a proper cunt. I see why yeh wanted to leave,"

You were glad that he was finally seeing things from a different perspective but you didn't want him to beat himself up either. Harry didn't have to invite you to his show but he did; and he didn't have to come in here and explain himself but he did and the effort was greatly appreciated.

"You're getting better," you reassure.

Harry sighs unconvinced, "I need to be," Hating that he wasted enough of your time as it was, he decides to call it night. Obviously you had better things to do than deal with his shit, "G'night, I love you,"

Even though you're confused by his sudden departure you don't stop him, "Night, I love you too," assuming that maybe he just really needed some time to think for himself. You just hoped that he wouldn't over do it.

Before he closes the door behind himself you call, "Hey! Don't stress about my parents either, they'll come around eventually. Especially if you get them a good gift that we both can cosign,”

He scoffs at the unattainable idea, "Yeah but what?"

You shrug whimsically, glad to give him something productive to think about. Also hoping that a vote of confidence would go a long way, "I don't know, I'm sure you'll think of something."

****

For once you didn't mind that work kept both you and Harry occupied. While he was away out of town you hoped that the distraction would level him out and bring him to his senses.

It wasn't lost on you how irrational he'd get whenever Noah came around. Harry was undeniably jealous and it was cute until it wasn't.

While you appreciated the more frequent phone calls and the sincere declarations of love at the end of them. You detested that they mostly happened to be when you were out and about with Noah. During shared lunches and dinners over plans of the anniversary party. Even the initial improvement of thoughtful 'just checking in' face time calls gradually became interrogations of your whereabouts to see if Noah was around. At it's worst when he found out you started working out together.

Nope take that back!

The absolute worst was when he called you in the middle of a Netflix marathon, cozy and clad in pajamas together on the couch. Harry had a full out meltdown threatening to come home in that instant. It was too much.

Noah definitely is a catch. Funny, smart, and so beautifully made it's annoying. But he wasn't what you wanted, nonetheless your type. He was like a brother to you. It was astounding that the person that actually knew you the best didn't realize that.

On the other hand, you mentally took note of the mirror effect. With Noah around Harry strangely didn't have time for Kendall. As a byproduct, partying and drinking had also fallen completely off the agenda. Although you figured that might also have something to do with his touring regimen, it was definitely an improvement either way.

Ultimately though, today couldn't have come fast enough. You yourself for the most part had been dodging family criticism and now it was time to face the music.

Noah, ever the strategist, made sure you arrived at the perfect time. Not too early, not too late, but just the right time where greetings were already issued and the festivities were beginning so everyone would be too distracted to notice your presence.

Though when they did Noah was sweet enough to avert the subject, keeping it totally at a surface level. That is until you run into the countriest auntie of all time. Also the worst gossip in the entire family. Clearly there was no courtyard big enough for her not to find you like a heat seeking missile.

"Noah honey, I didn't think we'd be seeing you again! Especially after that rock star hmm," You get playfully elbowed and can't help rolling your eyes, "Oh Y/N baby, don't be embarrassed it happens to the best of us! Mine was a marine that couldn't keep it in his pants to save his life! Shame ya didn't at least make it to the prenuptial though. His alimony would've changed your life," She fans herself at the thought utterly oblivious to her lack of tact, "But you and Noah have always been two peas in a pod so no love lost. Y'all belong together anyway!" She smiles knowingly.

Just when you think she's done pushing boundaries she opens her mouth again with a cunning look in her eyes, "Speaking of, Noah.. Times a ticking! When are you gone' make a honest little lady out of our Y/N?"

You look to Noah with stunned wide eyes, unconditionally embarrassed that he was being put through the wringer like this. You silently mouth, "I'm so sorry!"

And yet he simply chuckles sharing one of his charming butterfly conjuring smiles with her before focusing on you, "Whenever she's ready,"

Your aunty awes and coos while you stare at him amazed, he played it so cool sometimes it made you wonder...

****

As the sun went down everyone was gathered at tables to view a slideshow of memories on a projector screen. But just before playing it your parents decide to open their gifts.

Obviously you go first, unveiling an antique wind chime and matching custom pottery vases for future garden parties. In which they love since they were expanding their yard. As a matter of fact they talked your ear off about nothing but gardening whenever you spoke most of the time. So your gifts are perfect.

Noah goes next since he's your guest and reveals two all expense paid cruise line tickets to Hawaii and front row complete season passes to see the Golden State Warriors. When your dad can't pick his jaw up off the table, your mom actually jumps out of her seat to hug him, making everyone laugh. "I don't care what anyone says, you're my son in law!"

Your laughter immediately stops though. You understand that she is excited but that was taken entirely too far and way out of line. Comments like that weren't fair to any one of you.

For the first time ever you began to regret bringing Noah. It was weird, and it honestly wasn't his fault. Since you never really corrected anyone about your current status. But once the feeling of betrayal set in so did the guilt and it really didn't feel right being here without Harry.

You end up standing to excuse yourself for the evening but loud commotion in the distance halts you in place. It sounds like construction, and grows louder and louder as a side entrance to the courtyard is opened by staff members and in comes an entire forklift truck.

"Um, excuse me! What is going on here?" Your mom bristles completely appalled at their timing considering they haven't even got to the slideshow yet.

The driver proceeds take what looks like another massive table to the platform beside the actual projector and effortlessly lowers it to the ground. By then your father gets up for your mother's sake, trying to get his attention but to no avail. He drives off and everyone is left utterly confused.

"I'll go see what's happening," Noah reassures you standing up too.

But before he can leave the table an all too familiar voice calls out, "Sorry I'm late, I couldn't wrap this one but I just had to bring it along!"

Harry's here dressed in a nice suit and he's not alone.

"Oh... my God," you gasp.

Strolling in behind him were a couple of the venue staff members with items in hand. Though more importantly stood right beside him is none other than Elton freaking John! In a signature over the top flashy suit you couldn't begin to describe. He makes his way over to what the forklift driver dropped off, to reveal a grand piano from under a thick white cloth. The staff were evidently there to set up the microphone and speakers.

Harry continues speaking gaining everyone's attention again, "A little birdy once told me, that a pair of teenagers met at a skating rink in 1974, and when they heard a certain song they fell in love and have been ever since. Fast forward 47 years later and that song still creates the same magic on this day every year. Magic that I think we all hope to have," he announces and for a moment his eyes hold yours full of intensity. "Hopefully that magic makes today even more special. Ladies and gentlemen I give you Elton John and this is Bennie and the Jets!" Harry bows out with exaggerated extended arms excusing himself.

Your parents are still stood there frozen in shock until the opening keys are played and everyone else starts clapping along to help with the beat. Eventually your dad takes the lead and they fall into the rhythm, swaying to the music while everyone gathers round to watch.

At the sight of your parents on the make shift dance floor, the smile on your face was not only outright painful from doing it so hard but watery too. You couldn't believe that he did this— that he remembered! You told him that story once while you were drunk off your ass, when you first started dating.

It's almost funny because you've always wanted a cheesy but kind of romantic Rom-Com moment and now you finally got one and it's absolutely surreal.

Harry playfully clears his throat somehow suddenly behind you, and he's got a mischievous gleam in his eyes, "Not to ruin the moment but can I have this dance?"

An emotional mess, you nod and allow him to lead you to the area where everyone is dancing now. Relief also swarms you when as you pass through the crowd of family members, Harry is celebrated in pats on the shoulder and appproving nods. Surprisingly started by your obnoxious auntie.

It could be the other gazes on you or maybe just Harry's, but your stomach is pumped to the max with giddy butterflies. This is all you ever wanted, Harry with you and all in during the important moments.

Once he pulls you in close you never want him to let go.

****

By the end of the night everyone is tired out from dancing and all too happy to say their goodbyes.

The time spent today socializing is more than enough to last you a lifetime. Now you were content to squeeze back into your little bubble of life. Harry has a private heart to heart conversation with your parents while you collect your things.

Back at the table you jolt at the reminder of Noah. Who completely slipped your mind once Harry swept you off your feet so unexpectedly.

Since he did drive you here it was only fair to let him know you'd be going home with Harry instead. Though when you find him at a table with some boisterous uncles, sitting down with his head resting on the table, he's drunk beyond all recognition.

In all good conscience you couldn't leave him like this, he certainly wouldn't leave you.

"Noe, you wanna crash at mine so you can sleep this off?" In response he mumbles something unintelligible and so you just take it as a yes anyway.

To your dismay, Harry wasn't too happy about it when he recieved the news. Complaining the whole time you both struggled to load Noah into his back seat. Mostly worried that Noah was going to puke in the car on the way there. But thankfully there was no such case.

When arriving home and with one arm draped over your shoulder, you heave Noah's drunken dead weight into the guest room. Which meant for the first time in weeks you would have to sleep with Harry.

Noah groans as you roll him onto his back on the bed. Making sure that he was centered enough so that he wouldn't fall off. "Don' leave me,"

"I'm not going anywhere I'll just be in the other room okay?" you promise, thoroughly amused. Noah wasn't one to let himself get this sloppy since college.

"S'not what I mean..." He swallows hard, barely able to peek through his heavily lidded eyes.

Simultaneously scared that he might throw up and of what he might say next, you get up and close the door quickly. Definitely not needing Harry as an audience if he said something wild.

He seems to understand and waits until you come back to speak, "I meant what I said before. If this doesn't work out for you I will always be here. You know that right? Single, taken, abducted by aliens, or whatever you just say the word,"

You exhale heavily through your nose hoping that's just the liquor talking, "Trust me, if this doesn't work out I'll be knocking your door down," you tease laughing but he doesn't. Instead his glossy eyes seem to search yours for something that just isn't quite there.

It's uncomfortably quiet for a minute too long so you decide to just leave. Noah's adorable droopy eyes follow you all the way to the door before he speaks again. A hoarse but sincere, "I love you Y/N,” leaving his lips.

Frozen in place you say the only thing that felt right in that moment, ”I know. Goodnight."

After leaving his room your nerves came out to play and it honestly had nothing to do with what just happened. But more so at the fact that you and Harry would be sharing a bed.

The lights were still on when you entered the room and Harry was topless already in bed. Sitting up against against the headboard patiently waiting for you.

"Alright?" He asks with a quirked brow. Gaze following you around concerned as you undress, switching into a tank top and shorts.

"I think so," you honestly reply finally removing your gifted necklace and placing it on your nightstand before slowly climbing in bed.

His warmth underneath the blankets naturally made you gravitate towards him. Thus why you started sleeping in the guest room in the first place. When you turned to lay on your side Harry didn't miss a beat sliding in behind you into your preferred big spoon position.

You could feel it as Harry took a deep relieved breath, "I'm so glad that I didn't listen to yeh,"

Amused you snort, "Me too," and snuggle into him more, "Talk about an ace in the hole... I'm pretty sure my parents love you more than me now,"

"No arguements here," Harry teases but also gives a loving squeeze, "Doesn't matter though, I'm gonna love yeh more anyway," He promises, pressing his soft lips to the exposed skin on the back of your shoulder sending chills down your spine. The contact easily making your pulse race so fast you swear you could hear it. And without any signs of protest Harry continues to press one after another and another...

He's far too amped and too aware to sleep right now and honestly so are you.

Harry's at peace with just having you in his arms again but that doesn't stop him from wanting more. Before you know it you are twisted around to face him and his lips are desperately searching for yours.

God you missed this!

The intensity makes your stomach drop off an endless cliff and your skin singes at every point of contact. Your bare thigh hinged on his hip, his hand grasping fervently at your back to get you closer, all the while your hands tangle in his hair not feeling close enough either. You don't even separate to breathe.

It's not long before that yearning and urgency of desire takes control.

Your kisses growing more heated, when his tongue coerces yours into a sweet dance you knew all too well. Unabashedly ravenous you roll onto your back and pull him on top of you. Craving to be stupendously enraptured by him.

Harry has never needed you more than in this moment and yet something in his subconscious will not let him enjoy this. Perhaps the small voice in the back of his mind worried that this was only temporary. Afraid that you would go back to basically being roommates instead of lovers.

The more he thought about it, the more he couldn't bear it.

So risking it all he parts from you, hovering just enough to see you properly. Almost in reflex you reach out to continue where you left off but he stubbornly resists. He needed to know where you stood. Breathless he asks, "Can we just.. start over?"

Confused you pant out, "What?"

He sighs laying it all out on the table, "I mean like really start over, I'm tired of being at odds with yeh. I miss yeh, I love yeh and I just want to make up already,"

Despite his horribly timed interruption you can't help but laugh. This entire time you thought you already had. But you do appreciate his push for verbal confirmation and decide to rib him a bit, "Maybe,"

Unfortunately his expression is hopelessy incredulous not catching on to your joke, "Maybe? What's stopping yeh? Tell me exactly what I have to do to-" you lean up and interrupt him with a languid kiss.

Your teeth tug playfully at his bottom lip until it snaps back into place and your restless hands delve into his boxers, grabbing on and squeezing him tight enough to make him shudder from head to toe, "I'd rather show you."

If it weren't for the painful strain in his arms from holding himself up during that. Harry would've sworn that he was dreaming.

****

Harry had an axe to grind and he wanted everyone in the vicinity to know it. How loud you both were last night and early this morning did just the job. Putting him in greatest of moods because all finally felt right in the world. Like a demon had been exorcised. Although in reality the actual demon was knocked out on top of him. Drooling like a grizzly while still maintaining the appearance of an angel.

Once stealthily peeling you off, he quietly went to the kitchen to get a headstart on breakfast in a daze. Reflecting on his favorite moments.

Sex and making love with you was one thing but make up sex blew everything out of the water. It just hit different.

The passion was on another level entirely, God the scratching, biting, squeezing, screaming and down right rabid carnal—

"Fuck!"

"Holy shit!"

Both Harry and Noah startle at the unexpected sight of each other in the hall. Harry rubs his chest to soothe the coronary he almost had, and Noah drops his hand mid turn of the front door doorknob suddenly hesitant in making his hasty exit.

Harry couldn't be happier to see him leave, sublty flauting his semi nudity. He smirks proudly, "Not staying for breakfast?"

"Uhh no, I've got to get back to work," Noah replies sheepishly, scratching the back of his his neck clearly uncomfortable.

It takes everything for Harry to resist the urge to gloat and he shamelessly fails, "Are yeh sure? Yeh look exhausted mate, did-.... did we keep you up last night?" Harry feigns embarrassment though internally he's pointing and laughing like a spiteful child, "I'm so sorry mate, it was the built up tension and frustration and just finally touching base, we had to channel it into-"

The more Harry spoke the more disgusted and enraged Noah became, "You know just because you hooked up, doesn't mean this is over. You'll blow it again eventually and she'll come to her senses. And when she does, I'll be there to pick up all the pieces. We'll see who's laughing then."

Harry knew that he didn't like Noah for a reason, and as he anticipated his true colors finally came out.

But he's not at all worried. In fact, it makes Harry smile a genuine shit eating smile. Because if there's anything in this entire world that he's sure of it's your love for each other and he would die before he allowed anything or anyone come between that.

Harry replies extremely enthusiastic, "We all have shit dreams at some point mate. Did you know, I wanted to be a baker?"

At that Noah outwardly can't handle it anymore and heads out with a firm slam of the door. In which Harry locks and laughs to himself almost madly. He couldn't believe it.

****

When you woke up and looked at Harry with stars in your eyes today, Noah's revelation and all the other drama of yesterday, had practically become a thing of the past and Harry didn't mind keeping it that way.

Especially when he got to sweep his arms around you from behind and steal some neck kisses while you filled a mug with coffee. Humming along in satisfaction. His heart swelled at the sight of your engagement ring back on your finger while you stirred in your sugar.

He couldn't remember being this happy in years and he prayed that it would last in the following.

[kihyunswrath]

An essay on why I fight for Wonho

I think there has been too much of this “why do you even care that much?” bullshit lately and I’d like to make things clear, at least for my part. And I am assuming many other Monbebes can relate.

Indeed, why do I care? Wonho was never my bias, I have always liked other groups too, I have seen hundreds of groups come and go, it’s just one member in that group and although I want him to return, I actually want this entire industry to burn down to ashes even more and yes, that would mean death sentence to all idol groups. 

But first of all, let me ask this question in return: Why does it bother you that we care? Who gets to define what’s a useless endeavor? What makes you think I can’t simultaneously care for “more important” issues? Why the hell are you judging us for wasting time on this, when we all already know you wasted days watching that useless Youtube vine compilation, binge-watched that one Netflix series you didn’t seriously even care about, played that one stupid mobile phone game when you should have been sleeping, ate those two boxes of cookies that could’ve lasted you two whole weeks? Who are you to say things are useless just because it’s not your favorite idol group or whoever the fuck you care about, who’s under attack? Why do you think we have explaining to do, when literally none of this has anything to do with you personally and it’s literally you who fail to see the implications this incident had?

I don’t need to explain why I found a person inspiring as an idol and human being, why I found his background story motivating and moving and why I found his presence in Monsta X very important for the entire group’s mental health, group dynamics, success and happiness. I don’t need to explain why I find it upsetting that the people I cared about are torn apart because of no fucking reason, and that I can see that pain from their faces as they’re forced to pretend Wonho does no longer fucking exist?

I don’t fucking think I need to explain why I have empathy for a person who is under a police investigation just because. I don’t think I need to explain why I don’t find it fair that someone is under an attack for doing something that is not deemed as illegal in the most civilized, democratic countries. I don’t need to explain why I want to defend someone who’s kicked out of his group because of conservative internet trolls and a couple whose own background is about ten times more shady than Wonho’s. I don’t think I need to justify myself protesting for him, when he is fired from a job that has absolutely nothing to do with the things he’s being accused of. I don’t think I need to explain that unlike many others, I am indeed capable of reflecting this incident against the bigger context and see how flawed the entire Korean legislative system is. 

But let me do your homework for you asshats and explain what this bigger context is. It’s the context where simply having an allegation of whatever kind placed against you is enough to ruin your entire career. The context where people are literally lying about a person’s background and have been caught doing that, but can still continue with the investigation. The context where people can be punished again and again for things they did ages ago, apologized for, moved on and learned from. The context where literal rich drug dealers, convicted criminals sitting in prison, their minions and ENTIRE companies (cough pdx101 cough) might be able to escape from justice, but this one unfortunate person whose existence is only justified by the Korean population if he is superhumanly perfect and flawless, is brought down for allegedly committing a crime that was not harming anybody and was committed six fucking years ago. The context where you can be punished for something so meaningless that it feels like there is indeed space for a conspiracy theory or two. The context that paints idols as literal gods and goddesses who are not allowed to have pasts, backgrounds, redemption arcs or flaws to their character. The context that is taking idols from their hard-earned positions just because someone influential enough had a personal grudge against them. This context where Koreans are not protected by their own companies or labor unions but can be treated like non-human playthings, chess pieces and pawns just for having human traits.  

I don’t think I need to explain why I have empathy. I don’t think I need to explain why this bigger picture I see doesn’t only clash with my morals, but also potentially hurts hundreds of thousands of other people, because something like this could easily happen to them, too, especially if we now use this incident as an example of how things should be handled in similar situations. And if you as a person fail to connect the dots, if you personally fail to see why this is giving an ugly view into a ruthless society many of my friends and loved ones have no other options but to live in, I think that’s on you. That’s literally your personal problem, not mine.

Wonho was not inspiring because he was flawless, he was inspiring because he demonstrated character growth. He was not inspiring because he never did any mistakes, he was inspiring because he kept improving and kept sharing his love and gratitude toward his fans. He was not inspiring because he had wealth, connections and endless virtuosity, he was inspiring because he built his career from nothing and still remembered to explicitly thank his family, his friends, his loved ones and his fans every single day. That alone is something we can’t say from many other people.  

And if you think my argument is flawed because I was biased? Yes. I am biased. It’s not suspicious that people care about stuff more when it turns out to be personally relatable. Stop fucking pretending you are so virtuous, wise and pure that you already fought against bigotry, oppression, discrimination and bullshit in its all forms, way before you were even fucking born. That does not give you more social justice woke points, it just makes you annoying. Just because some Monbebes woke up to notice how flawed, ugly, embarrassing and pathetic the kpop industry can be now that their own favorite idol is attacked, is not a bad thing if it leads to them protesting against similar incidents in the future. Just because people cannot fully grasp issues before it has something to do with themselves doesn’t mean they can’t now use that realization as a boost to change the entire society. 

Yes, we intend to not bring only Wonho back, but also bring down the entire industry that made it possible for things like these to happen. Yes, we as human beings are capable of empathizing with people who we don’t have much to do with, but it’s not wrong if we fight even more fiercely when we try to protect our own. When was the last time you have done something similar? 

If our movement brings light to the fact how little protections workers have in Korea, if our movement makes people see how devastating consequences bullying and baseless accusations can have on people, if our movement continues talking about the same problem that caused a person to commit literal suicide a month earlier? If our movement makes it transparent to everybody how much power all these companies have over their idols and how they can not only treat them like shit after trusting and rooting for them for several years, but also silence all the remaining members and force them to continue even if they’re at a breaking point? If our movement brings light to the fact that maybe, just maybe it’s not fair to punish people for things that they might not only NOT have done, but also are literally meaningless even if he did them ALL, especially because they happened before he ever even was an idol? 

Well, I’ll call it a movement that exists for a good fucking reason.

One of my Korean friends, after being told about this, said that well, the only thing I now need to do is to change my favorite group and move on with my life, because I am literally just a customer and I can’t change things. And you know what? That is exactly the problem here. Without knowing it, she summarized the entire problem up perfectly with that one sentence. 

She and so many other Koreans (and non-Koreans) consider idols mere products. They think idols are here to sell us a certain image of a perfect, successful person who does not really exist as a human being. Idols just represent something the Korean society aspires to be, but if enough people get fed up with them for whatever reason, just to bolster their own feelings of revenge and jealousy like in this case, idols can be dumped and forgotten in a matter of minutes. That hurting one idol does not really matter, because there are people lining up behind him to do his job even better. That being an idol is an endless cycle of improving oneself, requiring less and less time for resting, recovery, privacy and human rights and asking less and less forgiveness from the audience. That if you get an important position in the society, it’s on you if you cannot handle the negative publicity that might follow. That if you have done one mistake once, it prevents you from ever moving on in your life, because it can come and bite you in the ass whenever, arbitrarily, just because, even if technically you had already been forgiven long time ago. That people who have gotten money and fame do not earn those positions because of hard work, but because they are supposed to be superhuman. And because there is no such thing as a superhuman, every and any idol can be brought down whenever they show the smallest sign of humanity. Even if that sign of humanity is just them showing open solidarity and empathy for a friend and colleague that was wrenched from them for no reason.

She and so many other Koreans think the only thing they can do as normal citizens is to pretend this one “flawed, miserable” individual never existed, because they are powerless against the decisions of the companies, press and rich conservative trolls?

And for some reason, somehow, these same Koreans fail to see how that reflects the state of their entire society and how it affects their own rights as workers, as human beings. They fail to see this very, very crucial factor: that idols are more similar to everyday Koreans than they are to the entertainment companies, wealthy chaebol CEOs and a couple of filthy rich drug dealers who escape their own punishment because of their even richer dad.

Idols are NOT extremely wealthy celebrities who have a freedom to choose their own paths, influential politicians who can escape from scandals after scandals or sons and daughters of the company leaders and estate owners of Korea. 

They are workers who have inhumane working conditions. They are faces to faceless, cruel companies who are intentionally hiding behind them to cover their own tracks. 

Idols have no real rights, freedom or future, and thus, they represent us normal people. What you do to one of these idols, you essentially do to every single one of his/her fans. You take our dreams away, you punish us unfairly for things we tried to learn from, you take away our voices that we used to express our own oppression and challenge the status quo.

Idols are not us, but they represent us more than any of these companies, leaders, rich heirs and heiresses and CEO’s could ever do. 

And that’s why I’m fighting for Wonho.

__

And please miss me with that cultural relativism bullshit. I know injustice when I see it. I can distinguish suffering and pain even in cultural contexts I am not born into. Also? Maybe if Koreans don’t want us to meddle with how they handle their own problems, maybe they should have really been thinking twice before trying to buy the entire world with the help of their idol industry. We can hold companies accountable. We can demand change. Companies and wealthy shitheads are not representatives of a culture. We know there are Koreans with us in this fight. 

And if this doesn’t change with us, right now, today... it will sit down with us until something like this happens again, and then the change will come in the shape of a fucking tsunami. 

And what are you going to do at that point, stand in the fucking way, or pretend your past mistakes can no longer hold you accountable?  

[jebentnietalleen]

half the lies you tell are true (i’m gonna find a piece of you) 

chapter 2: lucas

 His palms are sweaty as he hangs up the phone. Still, that didn’t go as bad as he thought it would go. He still can’t believe that he has been such a dumbass, why did he have to say ‘Eliott’ to his mom? It only got him into more trouble than he was ready to face.

It’s so awful that he can’t even begin to comprehend how he is going to get himself out of this goddamn mess.

The truth of the matter is, his mom was not surprised when he mentioned Eliott. There is no way in hell that he would ever be upfront about this towards him, but he has always had a weak spot for Eliott, ever since he walked into his life 3 years ago like a breath of fresh air. The day they met Eliott, shortly after he transferred to their school, was the day their friend group gained an extra member that they didn’t even know was missing before then. It might sound sappy, but that is how it felt; it felt as if Eliott was supposed to have been there all along.

At the end of the day, it comes down to this: Lucas is terrible at keeping secrets. A lack of poker face means that he needs to have an outlet at all times, and when it comes to Eliott, his outlet has always been his mom, in a way.

He couldn’t very well tell any of the boys the truth, they knew Eliott too well and it was a far too fragile subject to be truthful about. 

Not only because he was afraid that they wouldn’t understand or maybe slip up and let his feelings shine through when they talked with Eliott, but also because, for the better part of their friendship, Eliott has had a girlfriend.

Lucas doesn’t have all that much experience when it comes to falling in love, but going after someone who has a girlfriend is a big no-no, even he knows that.

Sure, Eliott eventually broke up with Lucille for good, but by the time that happened, they were already such good friends that Lucas was sure that all the tactile gestures and lingering looks were just Eliott’s way of conveying his friendship.

Eliott has always been touchy feely with his friends, and was just such a kind soul in general, which makes it hard to decipher his moves.

The thing that always stopped him from being honest to his friends, was his own imagination. In his mind, he could hold entire conversations with them about Eliott. But it always ended the same: he would say that he has feelings for Eliott, and his friends would look at him like he had grown a second head.

‘Eliott?’ they’d say, ‘But he is just… your friend. You know that, right? I mean, he is friendly with everybody. It’s Eliott!’

They’d probably say it with a look of pity in their eyes to boot.

So, he never told them. Instead, in a moment of weakness, he confided in his mother.

Yes, it was weird, yes, it was silly, but truth be told, him and his mom have a really good relationship. He didn’t even mean to tell her, honestly, it just slipped out.

Thinking back on it, he can still vividly recall how it all went down. Lucas had just come home from an amazing night with Eliott, right after he met him. A night that wasn’t even planned at all.

The original plan had been to hang out at Maria’s place with Chloé and his friends. As if the fact that Chloé was super into him wasn’t stressful enough, he also was in charge of getting them all beer for a pre-drink that evening. Unfortunately, he didn’t have any money.

The rest of the gang had just riffed on him, making jokes and expecting him to come up with a solution as they walked away from school. It wasn’t until Eliott and Lucas were alone at the bus stop that he noticed that Eliott had become quiet.

‘Still no money from your dad?’ he had asked, and all he could do was shake his head. That was enough for Eliott to offer to help out and bring beer from his place, since Eliott was coming to the party with them anyway.

What followed was a night he will probably always remember. They got distracted as soon as they entered Eliott’s apartment, when Lucas noticed the drawings on the wall. Knowing that Eliott saw himself as a raccoon was somehow the most endearing thing ever, yet not surprising, once he got to know him better. Eliott offered him a beer before they had to leave, Lucas pulled out some weed, and before they knew it, hours had past and they were drunk and stoned, side by side on the couch.

Maybe it was the alcohol and weed that lit his nerve endings on fire, maybe it was the lighting that caused the atmosphere to change into something a little bit more charged, or maybe the sight of Eliott blowing smoke rings really was the final straw, but suddenly, he couldn’t stop staring at him. At Eliott. Sprawled out and relaxed against his couch, his neck exposed and his eyes hooded; he had never looked more beautiful.

When he thinks back on those early stages of their friendship, he knows that this is the night that changed things for him.

Right from the start, something about Eliott made Lucas feel brave, it made him feel like he could just be himself. That night, he played the piano for the first time in years, and sure, he felt nervous, but it also just felt right. Seeing Eliott’s reaction afterward made him feel good about himself, and that was a feeling that frankly had been missing for far too long.

Eventually, Eliott more or less had to kick him out because he was meeting up with Lucille, and he texted Chloé to tell her he couldn’t make it. Needless to say, she was not amused, and a few days later he was finally mustered up the courage to be semi-honest with her and tell her that it wasn’t going to work out between them. He might not have been ready to come out of the closet just yet, but leading her on while he could feel himself fall for Eliott was just plain cruel, he couldn’t do that to her. In the end, it was the best decision he would have made. Now, at least Chloé and him are still friendly with each other, which is for the best seeing as Yann would not be amused if his girlfriend – yes, slightly weird for Lucas, but they really fit well together - and one of his best friends were on bad terms.

He didn’t expect his mom to be awake when he got home that night, but she sometimes got restless in the middle of the night. She could tell something was up, and actually made a joke about how he looked like he was in love. At that point, Lucas was drunk and stoned, and way too tired to come up with a lie. So, he told the truth. Or at least, a version of the truth.

He told her that he had met the most beautiful person he had ever seen, a few weeks ago, and that he only just began to realize that he might like them as more than a friend, yet it wasn’t an option to do anything about it, because they were spoken for.

She had looked as if she was devastated on his behalf, and told him that she hoped things would change.

To his mom’s credit, she never really pried all that much when it came to the person in question. She hadn’t even asked him why he used the word ‘person’ and not ‘girl’, and he never explained it to her. A part of him knew that there was a good possibility that she had guessed what was going on.

It’s not as if he never told her stories about Eliott, from there on out. He did, and lots of them. She knew that Eliott is his best friend, and that they are very close, but never asked about it further.

When he came out, it didn’t take his mom long to ask him if the crush he had been harboring all these years was on a boy, and if it was on a boy she knew about. There was no point in lying about it. This time, he told her the complete truth.

Funnily enough, she didn’t seem surprised to find out it was Eliott all along. Which is how he came to realize that he was less good at hiding his feelings than he thought he was.

Once she knew about it, though, it didn’t change anything. She still didn’t ask him questions about the developments in their friendship, or lack thereof. It seemed as if she had accepted the fact that they simply were best friends now, despite of his crush, just as he had accepted that himself.

Every once in a while, though, she heard a story about him and Eliott goofing around, and he’d see a certain look in her eyes, a look that said, I hope these two crazy kids work it out in the end.

The thing is, he wasn’t lying when he told Eliott just now that he was getting tired of his family prying into his love life. It was annoying, it was invasive, and it was a constant reminder that no matter how hard he tries, he can’t find anybody else who he wants to be with. Not in the long run, anyway.

So maybe it wasn’t the smartest idea to blurt out: ‘I am seeing somebody, actually, and he would be delighted to meet you all when we got to Spain,’ right after his aunt Lydia had asked him how it was possible that such a lovely, handsome guy just like himself was still single, but that’s exactly was happened.

He figured it was a better response than saying: ‘Well, actually, I plan to hook up with a lot of hot dudes in Spain, so I don’t want to be tied down before the trip’, but looking back on it, maybe that would have been a better reaction.

If he had thought about it for more than 5 seconds, he could have predicted that Lydia would talk to his mom about it, and his mom would, naturally, talk to him about it, but apparently his braincells had left the building for the day.

Once he got home that evening, he started to wonder how long it would take before his mom would call him up, and began to think of a game plane. Frankly, every single thought he came up with seemed too unrealistic: his mom would never buy the fact that he was in a secret relationship with someone he never even mentioned to her before, they were way too close for that. It felt like he had no other choice than to tell her that Eliott and him had finally come to their senses and have started to date.

The way her voice changed from somewhat frustrated and just a tiny bit angry to soft and gentle, let him know that she was happy for him, with all of her heart. It ached, a bit, knowing that the reason she was so glad wasn’t real.

The thing he is very grateful about right now, though, is Eliott’s patience, because he honestly doesn’t know if he would have said ‘yes’ if Eliott had asked Lucas to do this for him, even if it was just for one night. He’s glad that he was able to explain that it wouldn’t have to go any further than that, he would never ask Eliott to go with him on a vacation where they would have to pretend to be together for a whole week. The thought alone makes his heart beat faster, and not in a good way. They could never pull it off for that long, plus it was unreasonable to expect Eliott to go that far for him.

This dinner, though, this dinner could actually work.

His phone buzzes and Lucas stops pacing his room, raking a hand through his hair, a habit of his he can’t seem to kick.

It’s Eliott, wanting to know if they will tell their friends about this little adventure. On the one hand, he really wants to be open and honest about this to everybody, mostly because he has a feeling that people will be able to tell that he is hiding something. On the other hand, it’s embarrassing enough as it is that he had to ask Eliott to do this, he really doesn’t think any of their friends would ever let him forget about this if they found out, they’d torture him for all of eternity.

He texts him back: Let’s not make this a big deal, it’s only for one night, right? No need to cause chaos. Besides, Basile would be so jealous, you know he wants you all to himself. We wouldn’t want to upset the poor guy.

A few seconds later, Eliott responds: Agreed, best to spare his feelings.

Lucas smirks at his screen, as reality sets in. They are really doing this.

[bonesmctightass]

Enjoy your prize, @weresilver-in-space !

"You can't be serious." McCoy groaned and rubbed his temples. He wasn't prepared to have this argument with Spock today. Certainly not planetside of all places. And yet, there they were. In the wake of disaster, arguing about pets. Again. "A starship is no place for an animal. Hell, it's barely suitable for people!"

As usual, Spock would not be deterred. His stubbornness was nearly as legendary as his Fleet record. "I am entirely serious. It would be cruel to force a domesticated feline to fend for itself. To leave it behind would be a death sentence. Surely this planet has seen enough carnage."

The plague that ravaged the village left no survivors, save for the black cat currently burrowed within Spock's arms. It wouldn't have mattered even if they had made it on time. They're wasn't anything McCoy could've done. Things were too far gone. But he could do something about this.

"How do you suppose we'd take care of it?" The discussion continued on the transporter pad. McCoy wouldn't dare make the decision lightly and it was clear the topic was not to be let go. "What are we going to do, leave it in our quarters all day? What kind of life is that?"

Spock had an answer for everything. Typical. "I believe the crew could benefit from a creature scientifically proven to improve morale." They barreled on through the corridors and into the lift, ignoring every other officer in their path.

"Are you suggesting we bring it to bridge duty? You're out of your mind if you think Jim'll let that happen. He's allergic, you know." The ride down to sickbay went without so much as a lull in the conversation. Spock didn't need to be told to get up onto the exam table. He wouldn't let go of the cat.

"I am well aware of that. I am merely offering it as a viable option for short periods of time. And there are many more. If you recall our encounter with the tribbles, the crew was quite taken and had no trouble looking after them during recreation hours." Before things got out of hand, that was true. Spock did have a point there.

The cat stirred as McCoy took his readings but made no attempts to escape or even change position. It had the most brilliant green eyes. "And you think they'd be up for babysitting again."

"There is a high probability that they will be amenable, yes." McCoy didn't miss the way his voice wavered ever so slightly. "Additionally, I am confident that Mister Scott will be highly motivated by the challenge of programming the replicators for feline appropriate outputs."

McCoy was about to rattle off several more pointed questions until he made the fatal mistake of looking up. Whatever reservations he might have had about keeping a pet aboard the Enterprise went out the window when he saw the way that Spock looked at the helpless creature. His eyes had such naked adoration and longing that it was actually devastating. McCoy couldn't deny him this any more than he could deny Spock anything else.

He sat beside Spock on the bed and stroked the cat's head. With a heavy sigh, he relented. They could make this work. "We'll have to think of a decent name for it."

When their eyes met, Spock's were smiling. "I believe I have some acceptable candidates."

[raccoon-james]

Midnight guest

Pairing: Billy Bennet x Reader 

Words: 2522 

Universe: Deadly Class syfy 

Requested: Yes 

Summary: The reader has an unexpected guest in the middle of the night. 

Warnings: kinda bad writing I guess? 

A/N: As you can see, I’ve finally uploaded my work! It’s my first published fic, but I thought it’s good enough to show it to you guys. English is not my native language so I’m sorry for every grammar/language/spelling mistake I had made while writing it. Also, it’d be nice to receive some feedback, some pieces of advice – please leave a comment or sth. It’s very helpful and motivates me to write more.

                                                      ●○۞○●

Nights at King's Dominion contrasted with the school in the daylight. Relative calm seemed to return to school halls every time when sun comes down. No noises, no running or fighting - no whatever-made-pupils’-daily-rutine. With sun held up, high at the sky, the school was bustling with life, but with the moment of sun disappearing time seemed to slow down immediately.

Sitting in the room with the door closed, you could easily feel cut off from that little world you have lived for some time. It wasn't hard to feel lonely sometimes. All you had to do then was talk to your roommate, or sneak out to meet friends living in another room. If you wanted peace and silence it was enough to not speak to anyone, play music and take care of whatever had to be done - like homework or makeup.

You liked nights here. Somehow you managed to get a small single room, which was a godsent for you, someone who enjoys being on their own, and the lack of unexpected guests was a guarantee of a successful night. It gave you a feeling of control. You could choose when you wanted company or not; if you wanted some time by yourself, you just stayed in your bedroom. That kind of control was enough to make up for many things, that the legacy status had taken from you. People think if you have a high position in the walk of life then it's easier to live. Bullshit. Why is no one speaking about the expectations everyone suddenly has for you? That you have to be the best, never miss a bit in a fight, never hesitate to pull the trigger, to know all poisons at the back of your hand. And what if you simply cannot live up to the expectations? That's when the lynch starts. "She? I can't believe..." "You're so not what I expected" "The shame of our family"... People pick you clean, then go to work on the bones.

It was couple minutes before midnight and the only audible sounds were your breath, pen writing something down on a sheet of paper and the turning of pages of numerous books surrounding you. Tirelessly you've been repeating materials for the “fundamentals of psychopathy” class. It was interesting, specific but exceptionally enjoyable.

The conception of motive that you had focused on this night was far more addictive than you could imagine. For you it was like digging in someone else's brain. Coming to the conclusions about the killer’s personality based on his actions - adding the way of killing, some repeated patterns and you can compile information about their past, present...the top of the top in this field can speculate - based on tiny details found at the crime scene – about the traumas and habits of the criminal.

The cracking of the door interrupted your flow. While studying in a school for assassins, unannounced visits after midnight don't bode well. In any moment then you could find yourself stabbed or with broken arm, your position meant nothing. Everyone could become a target, from children of the heads of state, through mafia bosses, to the average street rats.

With daggers, the fight technique you have been training for several years, you almost never part with, always keeping them within reach. That was the main reason why you grabbed the weapon so quickly.

Ready to defend yourself, you turned towards the door, no longer sitting but standing. Feet shoulder-width apart, knees slightly bent, ready to fend off the attacker.

"Y/N, put the dagger down" said Billy closing the door, in the tone of someone who's welcomed by people ready to slit his throat at least three times every day.

"Uh, I don’t know, I like it... Brings out the color of my eyes, dontcha think?" you said relaxing a bit. You fliped the dagger that made a full rotation in the air and than came back to your hand, that fist on the handle again. Pretty easy trick but always impressing Billy - until one day you'd be very unlucky and loose a hand while catching the blade.

"So, what's the matter?" you asked putting down the dagger. You tossed it on opened notebook on your desk. It was obvious that the studying session is over for you, at least for that night.

"You better tell me, huh?" said the teenager seemingly upset, pointing out to a half-packed suitcase on the floor. Shit... You promised yourself to tell him about you leaving right before They come to take you, which would be about 7 am, definitely not midnight! For all intents and purposes you didn't even know who or where was supposed to take you by tomorrow morning. All you knew was that your parents admittedly, may have overplayed your hand a little. You were a kid after all, a student who'd rather stay up late studying killers’ minds than actually becoming one. Still, have you ever had any other options but learning how to live under direct orders of your family?

"I'm leaving...for some time" you mumbled averting your eyes.

"And what? You...you didn't want me to know? Just leave?" he started, and by that moment you realized what was going to happen. It was going to be a bloody long lecture about your incompetence as a very best friend, as a main theme.

You haven't completely got used to the relation between you and green-haired Billy Bennett. Since your connections with other people were built on viable alliances, and because your loyalty twords them was like loyalty of an average whore from the brothel, you haven’t had many friends. All that had to happen was an extremely unlucky incident, a broken nose and slippery wooden stairs, for you to make some changes in your social life. That was how you met Billy.

"Could you once in your life shut the hell up, maybe?" you stopped his speech before he got a chance to get started with it, slowly looking up at him. He shut his lips and tilted his head a little, raising his eyebrows, noticably surprised with your reaction. You sigh heavily, running your fingers through your hair, wondering what you actually wanted to say when you stopped him. Or was that only self-defense because you didn't want to hear him whine about how bad you really are.

"Y/N..."

"No" you cut him off again. Tiredness that studying drew away, now started to slowly overtake you. "I seriously wanted to tell you but..."

"But when I couldn't do shit about it, right?" he snarled looking little piqued.

"It's not always about you" you hummed staring at your white socks "I don't even know what they want me to do. I received a letter saying I have to pack up and be ready to go at 7 am in the morning. Nothing more. No greetings, how are you or a fuckin hello. It doesn't matter if I told you about this crappy trip today or tomorrow morning, you can't do shit about it.  I can't disobey direct orders" you managed to keep your tone serious. You glanced at the rat, still standing near the door. It could be harder for him without you at hand but come on! He could handle it before, so why the hell would anything change now?

Before you had the chance to think about anything else, Billy was standing next to you, embracing you all of the sudden. He wrapped an arm around your shoulders and pulled you close, gently rubbing your arm. Despite the heaviness in your stomach, it fluttered at the feeling of your body pressed against his. You sunk into the warmth of his side, appreciative of the simple gesture. His touch made the room warmer somehow, your future within its walls seeming a little less bleak. Still, you were confused after that sudden display of benevolence coming from Billy. Your body was tense, ready to attack. It took you a moment to edge off but when you did it, you returned the hug.

You liked Billy. He was like cat. Not a fluffy kitty, pretty as a picture but homeless, a bit scraggly and scrawny with unbelievably stunning eyes. These cats you want to take with you even if they aren't drawn to you. And honestly you'd never thought, till this moment, that leaving the cat would be so damn hard. Stupid Billy... Why on earth did he hug you? It was clear now why you had avoided profuse goodbyes all your life. It was so much easier to leave not realizing what's left behind you, because without "goodbye" it feels like you'd never really left. You spared yourself the heartbreaking pain and feeling of  loneliness, that goes hand in hand with every long-term goodbye.

"Do you have any plans for tonight?" you mumbled into Billy's t-shirt, hoping your voice wouldn't crack and reveal how devastated you started to feel with every passing second. You used to keep a stiff upper lip, but now it's harder, apparently.

He stepped back at the length of an extended arm and grinned as only he could, which warmed your heart.

"Sleep? I guess..." he answered slightly shrugging his shoulders.

You smirked wrinkling the bridge of your nose, waited for a moment just squinting at him and than turned on your heel so you can walk over to a nightstand and reach the alarm clock.

"I'm not sayin' now, right? But what else would I do at this hour, haha..." Billy muttered while staring at you, tracking all your movements when you were setting an alarm for 6;30 am. You mumbled something like "mhm" putting the device where it was before.

Bennett once again was like a torrent, an unbelievable flow of words which wasn't exactly what you needed right now. Soon it would be half past one, your mind has told you that six hours of sleep is definitely not enough for you to be full of energy by tomorrow morning. Billy was concerned with your actions but didn't ask any questions, hoping you'd tell him what was on your mind. What the hell were you trying to do? Well, you wanted to turn off the only light in the room which was the lamp on your desk buried in books and notes. And when you did it, complete darkness surrounded both of you.

Billy was ready to ask question about what the fuck you were doing. He raised his arm, opened his mouth but that instant you grabbed his raised wrist

"Come" you whispered, dragging him to bed.

"Wha...No! Y/N what the fuck?" he squealed, acting like he didn't want to go with you, yet somehow his body didn't fight back and let you sit him on the bed, so his behavior didn't match the words he was saying at all.

"God...I don't want to bang you man!" you rolled your eyes lying down on the mattress "I had already packed my emotional support teddy bear. How do you think I'm gonna fall asleep now, hm?" you were kinda joking, but kinda not - it was true you had packed your stuffed animals but it didn't really have any influence on your ability to sleep well. You just wanted Billy around, even though you haven't thought about it earlier. The boy widened his eyes on you or at least the darker spot on the bed that should be you. Pretty hard to see anything without any source of light.

"You're still sleeping with a teddy bear? What are you? Twelve?" he laughed. Not exactly laughed, more like attempt to laugh. He was cut off with a cold blade of the dagger near his throat, the best way to silence him in your opinion.

"Say a single word about it and you're gonna end up stuffed just like that teddy bear" you hissed not anymore laying on the bed

"Jesus, how many of them do you have here?" whined Bennett moving away the blade. You couldn't help admiring his ability to stay so chilled and cool with your threats. It was really impressive. Something (the dagger) landed on the floor as evidenced by the hollow metallic sound going with the sound of a laying back body.

"But waking up so early...I don't know..." boy was still whining around while taking his shoes off.

"I'll do my best to not wake you" you said calmly waiting for him to lay near you. To be honest you had never ever slept with him. Sure you had laid down together, sometimes even he managed to take a quick nap but you never lowered your guard.

Billy tried to lie down comfortably but it was hard since it was single bed, not exactly what two people need to sleep together. Your back was slightly touching the wall against the bed, sticking to the boys body, hoping it would compensate for the lack of the bedsheets. You were actually lying on one but it was pretty warm already so it wasn't necessary. With your arms around his neck and a leg over his belly you breathed softly into his hair. You know you should have found it adorable but after all you liked your space. Still you couldn't resist it since you haven't got any idea when you would meet him again. You weren't really much of a hugger when it comes to people,  but liked teddy bears as a kid and it you stuck with till now.

Time was passing and the feeling of tiredness disappeared, leaving you on standby mode exactly the same that you were on while being on a lookout. Just like someone if was about to burst into your room now and attack both of you. You haven't locked the door, it was haunting you now but you didn't want to move, scared it would wake Billy up. He was probably asleep by then. You could tell by the regular deep breaths and silence.

With your right hand, you reached for the boys head. For a couple of minutes, you were playing with his short green hair tangling them between your fingers until you would get tired again. That relaxing activity, it made it inevitable for unpleasant thoughts to come across your mind no matter if you were or were not prepared for them. Obviously, you weren't.

Was it possible for you to come back to school in one piece? Who would protect Billy from getting in trouble during your absence? Would you have a telephone wherever you were going, to call Billy here every evening or at least once a week?

It was mind-blowing for you since you have never, ever had problems like that! But also you never had a friend like Billy to make your life more complicated than it already is. Master Lin was right when he said that when you have someone who you would die for, sooner or later things were going to get messed up...

The red numbers on the screen of the clock showed five minutes after one a.m. when you finally dozed off.

[curupiracue]

Planning (or attempts to)

“Dammit Novalue, we wasted too much time! Were i-?!” I suddenly interrupt myself when a certain bitch enters my field of vision, walking out of an alley. She notices me too, stops, sits down and all but flat-out tells me to go to the Mental World.

Novalue notices it too, and looks at me, silently asking what we should do.

“She probably knows the situation better. So if she isn’t pursuing the serial killer, that means there is not much I can do…” My tone of voice rapidly changes to something enthusiastic “Now! The question is, should we take this chance to shoot her in the head, or just shoot her in the head?”

“I’m not participating if you decide to fight her, unless it’s on the off-chance you’re about to get yourself killed.”

“Muri! How the hell would that happen? I’m as invincible as a diamond in a cutting contest, and she is no hammer! Nyahahah!”

‘This time, Novalue sighs.

“Well? Shall we go?”

“Mm. Yes, let’s.”

(Entering the nowhere of importance. Wait patiently, if you will?)

The moment we get there, Wims (tries) to joyfully greet us.

“Why, hel-”

“HOW IN THE SEVEN HELLS DID YOU MANAGE TO LET HIM ESCAPE!?!”

“...Well, so much for the passive-aggressive beginning.” She replies dryly, without any of the previous fake merriness

“Ooh~? I have no problems with that. I’m friends with passive-aggressiveness, differently from you and catching criminals~” Hahah! Now that caused some umbrage, I can see it in her expression~

“Well… Sorry if I can’t catch a coward that runs away. Maybe if I had your help… oh, but you couldn’t be bothered.”

“Oh? You’d need me? Heheheh, no, that’s not a surprise, see, I’m actually just shocked because you’re willing to admit this in all your arrogance.”

“Not necessarily in combat. I could have gathered as much info as I wanted about his powers and his schedule, if only you had told me about the circumstance. But you’re too petty for that, aren’t you Nim? Would rather let people potentially die, I guess.”

“Well, YEAH! I couldn’t care less about that. You on the other hand, seems to be enjoying playing little goody two shoes without actually being one. Or trying to be one. That’s as miserable as a fish out of water… on a volcano.”

“Oh, I’m not good by any stretch. I just meant to say that anyone with a shred of morality is more moral than you, you hyper-sociopath. Remind me to beat you to a pulp one of these days, yeah?”

“Huhh?! One of these days? Why not right now? The serial killer isn’t coming back, so you’re not risking anything other than learning the fact that you cannot possibly hope to beat me.”

“Last time says otherwise.”

“Last time you had an advantage, bitch.”

“Hohoh! Then I guess it’s about time I prove I don’t need one.”

She started walking in my direction, and I did the same.

“Wouldn’t write a thesis about that. Speaking of writing, considering you’ll be left mentally crippled for life, I wonder who is going to write the article about your demi-WAAHH?!?”

“Hu-Uwoooh?!”

(The prism spins, and senseless light is reflected with a different sense)

To say that I didn’t see this coming would be equal to lying, but it escalated a little bit too fast. Thankfully, I had time to set up two unreal areas while they were distracted. The moment they gave their first steps, their legs entered unreality, and without support, so did the rest of the body.

Pop.

Ttuumm.

“Guh!”

“Ugh.”

And then I popped the unreal areas back into existence, making both Nim and Wims fell on the ground.

“That’s enough, you two.”

(The prism spins, and senseless light is reflected with a different sense)

...Well, that caught me by surprise. Novalue’s the type of underdog that wins by being surprisingly powerful when and where you least expect it.

Unreality… His primary construction. The power to make it so that anything within a certain area ceases to affect the other world. Well. It’s annoyingly more complex than that. But who in their right would be describing that as their leg suddenly disappear and they fall nowhere? I mean… sure, the construction can’t actually hurt anything, since whatever is in unreality is still connected to the part that is still real, but like… explaining crap like this, it’s like we’re on a book or something!

(The prism spins, and senseless light is reflected in all different senses)

“Yes you are.”

(The prism spins, and senseless light is reflected with a different sense)

“(very) exasperated sigh) Nim, you’re being an idiot because you refuse to cooperate with her even though the situation calls for it. Wims, you’re being an idiot because you refuse to acknowledge the circumstance. What Nim wants to do would be hardly detrimental. Don’t say that he didn’t even ask either: it’s obvious you would have killed the murderer behind our backs if he did. Hell, you attacked them even when we were obviously planning something. I’m honestly sick and tired of having to watch you two degenerate into fighting like two brats every time we speak.”

“Ugh… I suppose I deserved that.”

“Tsk. Fair enough. But, Novalue, you’re wrong on one account: I didn’t attack him while knowing of your plan: I was just warned of something interesting and after sensing that man’s power, I guessed the rest.”

“You were warned through the crow… Then, did you receive information such as the killer’s face and overall appearan-”

“Of course not, dumbass. That crow… probably died...”

Oh.

Well, at least Nim’s being sensitive about it.

Wims seemed to have a rare moment of sentimentality. But her stoic nature and the ease to manipulate our Mental World’s avatars made it hard for me to see it.

“Yes, quite… So I’m in quite the sore mood now. That bastard killed Jesus… this can’t be allowed.” She clenched her fist with anger and looked at us.

“So. Here’s the reason I called you here, to the Mental World...” She put her hand on her head and pulled photos out of it, right before tossing them to us.

In those photos, were…

A knife.

A man shrouded in fog.

And an arm holding a knife, attempting to stab her.

“There are...”

“...Not reminiscence photos.”

“Huh?”

“Ugh, for fuck’s sake Novalue, you’re useless. ...They don’t have that feeling of power. These are probably… ordinary images, manifestations of her memory. They look like those photos cuz’ it was probably easier to re-use the frame.”

“Precisely. Well, normally, since these are just memories created and stored naturally without use of a construction, there would be inaccuracies… But since I am flawless, so are these.”

Nim took a good look at the photo he was holding.

“Don’t even think about it.”

“Huh, what~?”

Ugh… What a pest. Well, anyway...

She couldn’t hear the word of Jesus, but still managed to come up with something of her own… So she is muslim?

...No, that joke was awful. Nim would complain about imprecisions too.

“Anyway! Ms. Fourt-”

“Oh, please dispense with the formalities~”

“...Alright bitch, tell us what you know.”

(Time passes...)

“In addition to that...”

“You’re going to say that he detected us, aren’t you? ‘Cause I already kn-”

“Stop being such a glory hound. That said… yes. You were far away, but he managed to detect you, that or he made a random turn for no reason, which is doubtful. Given his overall inexperience, I think it’s safe to say that’s another construction of his, rather than being good at Sensing.”

“So… Summing it up, there are four of them. Two primary, and two secondary, judging from their power. The primary ones are an utility construction that is presumably not combat applicable and that can be used to erase memories, and a combat construction that summons a shadowed arm. The secondary constructions are also combat constructions, most likely, though that doesn’t matter. One of them hides his presence, and the other can be used as a scout. But we don’t know what exactly it does. It might detect other minds, or it might warn him of danger, or it might allow him to see things that are far away… Well, out of these, the last one makes more sense for a combat construction. But now that I think about it, it could be a primary utility construction. Kind of a newbie’s move, but he IS inexperienced...”

“I doubt that arm would have so much power if he had divided his attention between 3 primary constructions… And we also don’t know much about that memory wiping one… though, I doubt we’ll need to worry with that.”

“Hmmm… naruhodo. Thanks for summing it up, Novalue. I think I got the general idea of his powers. On video game terms, he'd be a "Glass Canon" of sorts. He possesses devastating ranged attacks, that, while restricted and held back by a few weaknesses, are still tricky to avoid, his fog shit to cover his location and GPS to guarantee that we can't do the same. But when it comes to direct combat, his hand ability ends up lacking in proper versatility and defense capability, and he doesn't really have any good defensive or movement options. His Erasure power is pretty good, and works at melee, but it takes way to long and is too weak to make a difference. Not to mention, trying to touch someone with his kit doesn't really bode well.”

“Wait, what are you talking about?”

“(sigh...) You’re two useless idiots. Specially you, Wims.”

“What was that?!”

“I mean, Novalue has an excuse since he flat out wouldn’t be able to do this… but you came face-to-face with the killer and couldn’t be bothered? Guess you wanted to just end this quickly, but gathering info is your job… Are you that bad at it?”

“Why you…!”

“You know… When I was a kid, I wanted to be a babysister, but I can now see that this was a horrible mistake… Nim. What are you talking about? Don’t tell me that you managed to get a copy of his construction?”

“Ugh. He sure did. And by pure luck, by the looks of it.”

“Aww, did you view a little film of my pathetic life because you were feeling even more pathetic after losing to me? Better to win with luck than lose whe-”

“...No need to read your memories. You put a trap in someone, didn’t you? You were probably developing it as a minor construction, or maybe not even that, just a magic trick, every since you heard about about the memory erasures. A trap that made it so that, if someone with it got their memories erased, you would get a copy of whatever erased it.”

“Wow, you figured it out! Elaborate huuuh~? But you didn’t even need that! He was close to you. So you have just wanked it out of him, or read his memories concerning it. Even with the fog, you could probably overpower him with your superior stren-”

“Nim, shut the fuck up.”

“Hmmph. Prickly after losing your crow, I see. ...Well… let’s just present it:”

Suddenly, Nim summoned a shadowy figure.

“It’s just a being made of information. No way could I have gotten away with making a copy of the real thing. In essence, after the killer touches you, he can install this on your mind. Then after 4 hours of preparation and another 4 of waiting, it attacks. If it gets you, BOOM! Heart attack. Then it rummages through your memories, deleting them and only stopping whenever it finds someone. If it does, it will go to that person’s mind and delete the information about the original person as well as putting them into a “trance” for a while, during which they will ignore signs of the erased person’s existence. Quite the nice work, I must say~ ...I mean, I could do better, but still.”

“Huh. Sounds like it won’t present a problem to us after all. Incidentally, shouldn’t we make sure he can’t quit town?”

“...I already did that. The crows are keeping a close watch at the exits. For now, nobody left. I feel like he’s aware that it would be a bad idea… Well, at the very least, he knows what my crows can do, since he did me the FUCKING FAVOR of killing one of them...”

“Well, if you’re that pissed, how’s about we do something about it?”

“Agreed. Though now more than ever I DON’T wanna’ cooperate with you Nim, it was part of the plan from the get go.”

“Speaking of plans… Exactly how can I trust you not to backstab me?”

“Oh, you can’t~”

“...I’ll put you on a damn leash if I have to…”

“Ugh. Fine, you have my word… You’re an idealistic shit, Nim.”

“Why, thank you. Go live in a barrel with a staff, some rags and a loaf of bread. And remind me if I’m in front of the sun, bitch.”

“...Now that this is out of the way...” I butted in.

“Shall we start our plans?”

[thatssomental-blog]

Too Coward for the "Coward's Way Out": Living with Passive Suicidal Ideation

TW: This article may be hard for some to read, but is intended to assist others who may be dealing with passive, or active, suicidal ideations. The following text contains details of suicidal thoughts (without intent) and mentions self harm (briefly, and without detail), in addition to depression and it’s relationship with suicidal thoughts. 

So many people label suicide as the “coward’s way out”. If that’s true, then why is it that I feel like a coward because I could never follow through? Passive suicidal ideation is defined as wishing you were dead or that you could die, but having no intention to take your own life. Whereas, active suicidal ideation means one is not only struggling with these thoughts, but may have full intention, or a plan already in place, to take their own life. Passive suicidal ideation is still a risk factor among patients with depression and suicidal thoughts, and just because you are not planning your great escape from this world now, doesn’t mean you should skip out on your therapy sessions. All that being said, it is very real, your thoughts are just as valid, and you are not alone in feeling the way that you do.

Before I continue, I would like to specify that “wishing you were dead or that you could die” isn’t a reference to how you feel waking up in the morning, before you reluctantly drag yourself to work/school, it is in reference to a very real, deep desire to stop living, that may come or go, or may stay with you incessantly, even on your best days when everything seems hunky-dory. I am specifying this, because as someone who suffers from Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, the mental illnesses that myself and others suffer through daily are not meant to be #relatable, just because you like things neatly organized or hate your job/school.

My own struggle with suicidal thoughts is a plague that I can't seem to get rid of. I suffered from them long before I even knew what suicide truly was. I was about 14 when the first thought came along, and I clearly remember it. I was putting away the clean dishes and took a knife from the dishwasher. I stood there for about five minutes straight, just staring at it, and thinking that I could just slash my wrist open and the numbness I’d been feeling for weeks would all go away. I scared myself with that thought, put the knife away, and didn’t do it; I couldn’t do it, and I wouldn’t have done it. I can’t remember any other thoughts as vividly as that single instance, but sometimes they were there, and sometimes they weren’t, and every time I had them I could never bring myself to act on them.

Health care is necessary for a healthy life. In the US healthcare is expensive, whether you have coverage or not. Health Insurance, especially with Mental Health included, is hard to come by. Even if you’re one of the “lucky” ones that manages to land a job that provides it, a good plan for yourself, not to mention a whole family, can easily eat up what little bit of wages you work for, and have to live off of. In the past several years, life has been difficult for me, though it was mostly adjusting to living the independent life, learning how to pay bills, and learning how to take care of myself. Despite all of the challenges and obstacles I’ve faced in that time, I was doing pretty well. Even through the trauma of sudden death, which my family is not equipped to handle, I managed. Within the past eight months, I attempted to better my situation by leaving a toxic work environment and moving on to something new. Unfortunately, by choosing to leave that job I also left what little health coverage I had, and since have had to move on to even worse challenges and obstacles, all with untreated, depression, anxiety, body and gender dysphoria, and Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. If you’ve never been through that, I’ll tell you right now that it is hell, and as petty as I am, I wouldn’t wish anything I’ve been through on my worst enemies.

Factoring in all of the above, with the soul crushing feeling that your whole life and all of your freedom is crashing down around you, like an imploding dumpster fire, it really adds up. In my last few months before moving back home with Mom and Dad, something none of us want to do even if we love our parents with a fiery passion, I was at rock bottom. I couldn’t bring myself to do anything but the bare minimum, which made moving day tougher than it already was, and left me feeling hopeless and drained of life. I would lay on my couch for hours, wrapped in a blanket, staring at the wall with an empty mind and heavy heart, it was the worst I had ever been, and I allowed myself to wallow in it, only making it worse.

Even now that I am home, and surrounded by the love of my family, I frequently wish I was dead. I don’t think such things only when everything is going wrong in my life, but the harder times get the more I just want all the pain to go away. I think of scenarios in which I could put myself out of my misery. I own a gun, I have access to others, and medications, not to mention every knife in the block or kitchen drawer that could easily end all of my suffering. But, why is it that despite my desires to no longer deal with life's stresses, my battle with my seemingly, ever changing, gender identity, and my unbridled hatred for the world we live in and the multitude or horrible people in it, do I refrain? Why, when it seems like the only option for peace of mind and escape from the emotions I can’t control, can I not do it? Why, when I wish for the calming embrace of death, do I fear strangers who could kill me in cold blood? Why, if I want to die, did I seek medical attention, without any health coverage, and go to the ER when I legitimately thought I was dying?

Fear of the unknown. I was raised in the Christian faith from a very young age, and was even baptized twice. My mother was raised within that same faith, and my father is an atheist. Despite my current pagan-leaning/agnostic dogma, there is a fear bread into me from childhood that I will burn in hell. Since becoming “woke”, so to say, I have completely denounced the Christian god for what he is. Despite my genuine certainty that this god does not exist, and if he does, he’s actually quite a terrible deity, because of how I was raised, I will more than likely carry that fear of denouncing him and burning in hell with me, for the rest of my life. Religion aside, and taking things from an atheistic perspective, maybe I’m just going into a hole in the ground when I die, but the thought of everything being black forever is also terrifying for me. Even though I am aware that, in this scenario, I will literally not be conscious of my own death, it is almost impossible for me to wrap my head around it, and as someone who has exhibited a very present case of FOMO all of their life, that just doesn’t fly with me. Regardless of whether we go to sit at Odin’s table in Valhalla, or up to a magic golden kingdom in the clouds where everyone is happy and wants for nothing, or we just literally kill over like a toy with dead batteries, no one actually knows until they actually die.

Fear of failure. I have had a very hard time succeeding at pretty much everything I’ve tried in life. No matter what I do, I never feel like the product is good enough. I am my own worst critic, and, on top of that, I am a rage-quitter. If I am not instantly or naturally good at something, I get bent out of shape when I mess it up, maybe I cry, then I quit, and I move on. (Though that statement doesn’t apply to absolutely everything, it applies to a pretty big chunk of things.) One of the greatest fears that keeps me from “attempting” is knowing that if I mess up, I may not recover. Some people are saved at the last minute, and depending on what you’ve done to yourself, sometimes the wounds or the manner in which you’ve attempted will mend. However, if some things are done incorrectly, i.e. putting a bullet in your brain, or a fall that just wasn’t quite big enough to kill you, you may still survive, but there could be permanent consequences such as brain damage, loss of mobility, etc. I’m sure you catch my drift. I suppose this also technically falls under fear of the unknown, because you never truly know what’s going to happen until it does. Sometimes you just have to stop and ask yourself, would you rather be depressed and fully functional to the best of your capabilities? Or depresses and handicapped, and therefore, with your anxious/depressed brain, if it works anything like mine, an even heavier burden on those around you?

Forcing others to suffer. I am very lucky to have an amazing family that is full of love. Even for those of us living a life that others may not agree with, disowning and/or not loving one another is not in our vocabulary. I am very close to my mother and my grandmother, and it would devastate them beyond comprehension. That used to be my only line of thinking, however things have happened and times have changed. Less than two years ago, we buried my grandmother’s youngest child, my mother’s youngest sister, and one of my best friends, who was more like my sister than my aunt, along with her unborn son. Even if I intended to follow through on my own suicidal thoughts, and even excluding the above reasons, I could never force my mother to bury her only child, or my grandmother to bury another grandchild. I also have an amazing SO and friends who would at least be a little devastated, as well.

I just can’t. Ignoring every other reason I have included, I just can’t do it. Despite my fear of death, failure, and hurting those I love most, I just don’t have it in me. It’s not the pain that I worry about, one could easily swallow a bunch of sleeping pills and hope to not wake up, and as much as I hate to admit it, I have physically self harmed before, way back in my teen years. I don’t know how else to explain it, other than I just can’t. I have a huge fear of missing out, if I don’t know all the details of something it will drive me nuts, and I hate surprises. Despite how great it would be to just not have to worry, and despite how hopeless I feel, there is a part of me that knows something better is coming. If I were to take my own life, there are countless things I would miss out on, things I’ve always wanted and things that I may not even know that I want yet. The future is a mystery, and I’ll never find out what it holds if I don’t have one.

Do those things make my suicidal thoughts invalid? No, and though your reasons behind your lack/full intent may differ from mine, they do not make yours any less valid, either.

I am by no means encouraging suicide, though if you ever lose your battle just know that I will never call you a coward when you’re gone. Suicide is the final side-effect of losing your battle with a very real illness, one that may not be visible to even those closest to you.

My parting wisdom is this: Whether you intend to follow through on your suicidal ideations or not, if you take your own life, you will never be around to see it get better. I know it seems hopeless, I personally feel hopeless about 95% of the time, and I know that sometimes it seems like the only escape from not only the world, but your own mind. I really do. I know it hurts, and even if I don’t know what you’re going through, or how you feel, perseverance is the answer, not death. If you are strong enough to make it this far, through all the grief and torment and suffering, then you are strong enough to build your own future. Please don’t take that away from yourself, no matter how much you may want to.

If you, or someone you love is feeling suicidal, please check thatssomental.tumblr.com/resources for a list of suicide and mental help phone lines, chats, and websites.

©thatssomental.tumblr.com 2019

[mywinestainedheart]

Kinda Always Knew I’d End Up Your Ex-Girlfriend

I’m a bitter ex-girlfriend, and I admit it with no shame.

I will never wish you the best after me. I will hate you with such an acidic passion that the woman whose tongue has come to replace my taste might just begin foaming at the mouth. I will want nothing to do with you on any social media platform, and I will erase you so thoroughly from every aspect of my life; it’d be like we’d never met to begin with. This will also be something I will wish desperately: That we’d never met. That I’d never set eyes on you. Even the happier times we’d spent together—I won’t hold them dear—I will wish them gone… Because rejection cuts me that deeply.

When I love, I love hard.

This is something I have only recently learned about myself. I wouldn’t say I fall too quickly (I’m actually quite guarded), but once I do, it’s over for me. And you. You will become the focal point of most of my days. I will dedicate the entire temporal lobe of my brain to remembering the smallest details about you and the things you will say. I will prioritize you more often than you will ever think to consider me or my feelings, and, on a subliminal frequency inside my cerebral cortex, I will recognize this, but I will do it anyway. Because just maybe, if I continue to love you this hard then you might one day start to love me with the same magnitude.

Yes, I know. I’m ashamed to say I’ve been this dumb for a while. However, even after awakening to the realisation that loving hard doesn’t make someone love harder, I am still a bitter ex-girlfriend.

In the throes of my most recent breakup, I sought clarity and upliftment from clip videos, TED Talks and relationship “experts” on YouTube. Of the experts, Matthew Hussey, Trent Shelton and Derrick Jaxn became my go-to’s. Of the TEDx Talks, I would seek out women discussing how the breakup had, in the end, been the best thing that could have ever happened to them, and of the clip videos, any reel under 10 minutes of a stranger detailing their breakup experience and how they overcame it seemed to soothe my aching for a time. Of all of them, it was the implicit awareness of “I’m not going through this alone” or “this doesn’t just happen to me” that brought a sense of calm despite the turmoil inside me.

However!

There is a recurrent catchphrase within all of these breakup videos (save for a few TED Talks) that always left a bad taste in my mouth. Every time I heard it, it genuinely made me little angry, as if the guy who’d dumped me was saying them to my face. That catchphrase is “be thankful”. It usually comes up towards the end of their videos, after the person has shared their thoughts and experiences, and now it’s time to redefine the message with good vibes and positivity.

“Be thankful for the time you got to spend with them.”

“Appreciate that you loved so deeply because that means it was real.”

“Be grateful that someone in this world showed you what love can feel like.”

What-fucking-eveeeeerrrrr!

Why would I appreciate someone who laid our relationship down on a steel table, sawed through the ribcage, picked out only my heart, tossed it into the crematory, went back in with grubby hands to dig for my soul, squeezed the life out of it, and then casually stitched us back up, embalmed the union with I’m sorry’s and buried it with a tombstone reading: “I hope we can still be friends”.

Why would I be thankful for that?

Why should I be thankful for the sleepless nights of emotional mayhem this person left me with? Why should I be grateful for the time they spent knowing I wasn’t the one for them but they continued to lead me on anyway? Why am I supposed to appreciate the half-hearted apologies and confusion because the person that was once a contribution to my happiness is now the whole reason for my sadness? I’m already a guarded human being—so how and why should I be thankful for someone who worked so hard to learn where I kept it hidden, and then still violated my vulnerability?

No.

If I’d never met him, I wouldn’t be feeling this way. If I’d never met him, I would never have fallen in love and gotten hurt. If I’d never met him, I would have carried on with my life—my emotions quiet and undisturbed—rather than screaming at me in the middle of the night, making me lose sleep and dread the idea of getting to know someone new again. If I had never met him, I can’t help but think that my life would have been better. Of course, there’s no guarantee of this, but compared to how I’ve felt in those heart-breaking moments? Never having met any of my exes sounds like the more appealing option were I given the choice to do my life over again.

Don’t get me wrong, I understand that my bitterness exists because I loved harder and therefore got cut deeper. My entire (significant) dating history is comprised of four men. I’ve only ever been in real love with one, but even with the ones where I thought it was love, I recognise my pattern: I invest too much. Relationship coach Derrick Jaxn uses the parable of a car: It’s easier for the car that’s coasting along under the speed limit to come to a complete stop than it is for the car that’s cruising down the highway. I am the cruising car. Ignoring all the warning signs, rushing to a destination I know he and I are never going to reach together, and ultimately, crashing and burning.

I will tell you that most women fall victim to this tragedy. I have friends who are still cruising down the highway. When the man we love (or “love”) starts to put less into the relationship, we tend to start giving more of ourselves to make up for that deficiency. That’s why it takes us so much longer to walk away—even when we know we should. I have done this four out of four times, and while I acknowledge that I’ve done it to myself, am I not allowed to hate him for letting me do it? If any of my exes cared about me the way they all claim they did, when they could see that I was putting foot on the accelerator, why didn’t they stop me? Warn me? Hell—cut the ignition cables!—why let me crash and burn?!

I’ve posed this question to a few of my male friends and relatives, and I’m starting to believe that men are just genetically coded as pussies when it comes to relationships. They would rather play the “long con” (becoming emotionally distant, less attentive, making less time to see you) so that you eventually give up and walk away from the relationship, rather than them just saying they want out. I call it manipulation, they call it the exchange of power. If she thinks that the was the one who broke up with you then everybody walks away unscathed.

WRONG!

If she loves you, she’s not going to let you go without a fight. Which creates an exhausting cycle of arguments, make-up sex (which means you’ll be fucking her psychologically too), more arguments, more make-up sex, tears (usually hers), until finally, the breakup. And because you’d checked out of the relationship ages ago, her absence won’t matter to you. You’ll feel relieved, while she’ll be devastated. She will see this. She will internalise it, and this will turn her into… guess what? The bitter ex-girlfriend!

So why should she be “grateful” after all that? Why should she be “thankful” that you came into her life? Why should I feel “appreciation” for someone who made me cry so hard that I literally lost the ability to breathe just because that meant “my love was real”?

Nope. No dice. If you can put me through all of that, as far as I’m concerned, I am entitled to hate you. I am entitled to hate everything about you. I will walk in the opposite direction if I ever spot you out in public. I will pretend not to see you even if you see me. I will call you the devil to all my friends and family, even if you were once a saint whose praises I used to sing. Oh, and don’t think this will drain my energy—it won’t. People like to say hating someone is exhausting but it really isn’t. Hating you will be as effortless as waking up on a Sunday morning. I’ll make my coffee, get dressed and go on about my day. I won’t pay you mind until I’ll hear a song or see something that will remind me of us, and I’ll remember that I hate you. I will hate you in moments. At random and completely unforced.

I will admit, though, that this (regrettably) doesn’t last forever. Three out of four (ex)periences taught me that.

Once the anger subsides and I start to analyse the relationship, I begin to come to terms with the reasons why it never would have worked. I will acknowledge my own faults and shortcomings. I will start to accept that because something between us was broken, we were bound to break up anyway. I won’t forgive and forget but I will become indifferent. I will, eventually, feel nothing. The ashes he made of my heart will no longer get swept up in the winds of possibility to seek his visage. The soul he killed will be reborn and I’ll be… fine. Not hurt, not sad, not happy, but fine. And if I see you out in public during this time then we’ll probably make eye contact, and I’ll raise a palm in a half-hearted wave from a distance. Given another month or so, you might even get a friend request on Facebook.

Three out of four (ex)periences taught me that I won’t hate you forever, even with conscious determination, because my hatred isn’t hatred at all. It’s the evolution of my temporal lobe, the metamorphosis of my emotions, the lusus naturae of my cremated heart, all preparing me for the next phase of loving you differently. Not all of my (ex)periences have survived this process, and I suppose that would be natural selection at work.

I am a bitter ex-girlfriend, but even though that will eventually change don’t ever expect me to be grateful that I met you. Call it short sighted of me, but, for all we know, our lives might have been better off if we’d never crossed paths in the first place. Food for thought.

[lilywoood]

For The First Time {Drake/MC} Part 3/ 4?

Author note : I’m still deciding if it should be a serie or if i should stop it after part 4, it’s up to you guys ♥ :)

Summary : Bertrand & Maxwell return from the airport breaking the new of Riley departure to the rest of the group while Drake still struggle with the aftermath of his decision

Word Count : 1741

Rating : T

tag list : @butindeed @decisso @drakesfiance @simplyaiden-blog

if you want to be added to the tag list DM me :) ♥

He was drained, exhausted, depressed, he couldn’t believe it, couldn’t believe them, couldn’t accept that she was gone, that she left, that she was never coming back, he couldn’t believe that she didn’t put a fight like she had used him to, couldn’t picture her willingly accept to go back there, to her simple and boring life, he couldn’t but she did, she left without a word, without a fight, she had accepted her fate and it was all his fault...

He never saw Maxwell so devastated before, not even after he told him and Riley about House Beaumont situation, not even after his father’s death, this time Maxwell was crestfallen and they were nothing he could do because he was the reason, he was the one who destroyed all her hopes, he was the reason why Liam would never be happy anymore and would suffer a loveless marriage, he was the one who definitely doomed Maxwell and Bertrand’s future, he was the one who made Hanna loose her only friend, he felt like the angel of death bearer of bad news and sorrow.

-Did she...did she told you why she choose to go, Liam asked sadness clear in his voice.

-No, Maxwell sighed, but you should have seen her, he added, she was so broken so small, he said messing with his hair frustrated, I...I never saw her like that...I never imagined she could look like that, he croaked sitting dejectedly on the sofa

His chest was aching, he felt his heart breaking even more, regret and remorse tearing it down, he needed a drink or severals, he needed to leave the room, he needed fresh air because he wasn’t sure he could stay there and listen to Maxwell talking about her even more without breaking down, and he was persuaded that he couldn’t stay by Liam’s side comforting him when his heart was also grieving Riley.

-She wasn’t Lady Riley back there, Bertrand emphasized, she...she was so damaged, he sadly revealed, she was closing up it was as if she stopped trusting people.

-Those fucking bastards, Liam cursed, they can’t rest without causing havoc, he grumbled.

-I don’t think she left because of the photos, Maxwell admitted.

-Then why, Liam wondered.

He couldn’t do it, he couldn’t look them in the eyes knowing he was the cause of Riley’s quitting, if he hadn’t broken her by admitting his feelings she would have probably stayed, she would have forgot the little crush she had developed for him and moved on with Liam, she would have been a queen in training and everyone would have been happy everyone except him but it was always better than the actual situation.

He felt like choking, his tie was starting to get to tight and his heart was beating so fast he was almost sure everyone could hear it, his palms where sweaty and his hands trembling he really needed a drink and a smoke, so he left the room getting on the balcony, getting in the crime scene.

Memories crippled their way through his broken mind, her teary face, smudged makeup, the feel of her little hands gripping his shoulders tightly and the sound of hoarded voice begging him to pick her...

His eyes were fixed on the amber liquid in his hand, his glass was almost empty but it didn’t fill the whole in his heart no matter how many glass he drank he couldn’t forget her devastated expression when he stepped back, when he choose to let her go...

-Are you going to mop there and give up on her like that, Bastien asked him coming out of his hideout.

-You don’t know anything, he retorted incomprehensibly eyes still fixed in his drink, there is nothing I can do, he sighed defeated.

-You could fight for her, Bastien stated, that what she wanted I guess.

-Liam loves her, Drake chucked bitterly, he can give her what I can’t.

-Are you sure about that, the bodyguard asked, because from what I gathered tonight at the party and later at the airport I’m quite sure that his highness can’t give her what she want Drake.

-She would open her eyes one day or another, he stated stubbornly, she will see that I’m not couple material I’m damaged good, he stifled, hell I wouldn’t pick myself given the choice, he growled.

-She picked you nonetheless, Bastien quietly answered patting his shoulder in a comforting way, she’s not you and you’re not her.

-What are you trying to say, he grunted pinching the bridge of his nose.

-You can’t decide for her, Bastien explained, she’s in San Francisco by the way, he added before leaving.

He stood frozen in his place going through his conversation with Bastien, going through all the events of that goddamned night. The sadness was quickly replaced by rage and frustration, making him throw his glass against the nearest wall, he was clutching and unclenching his fists.

He didn’t know what to do he was torn between his feelings for her and his friendship with Liam, he couldn’t risk losing his best friend but in the other hand he was tempted to be selfish just for once in his life he was tempted to get his own share of happiness tempted to get his life back, the life he put on hold when Leo came to him six years ago.

It was a real struggle for him, did his happiness was worth sacrificing Liam’s, was it worth risking House Beaumont future even more, did he deserved it and what if it didn’t work between them what if he decided to go to her and in the end he would lose all that he had for a brief relationship, one who would end after two weeks.

He needed to calm down and think but he couldn’t, everything happened so fast, one minute she was there begging him to take a chance on them and the next she was back home in the US hiding from him and Liam, broken hearted and depressed.

He let out a long sigh before digging out a pack of cigarettes from his inside pocket, his tux still smelled like her making him laugh crisply, he struggled a bit to lite his cigarette the wind was blowing a little bit too hard they were close to autumn now, he wondered if it was windy in America....

-I thought you had quit smoking after Savanna’s departure, he heard Bertrand ask from behind.

-Guess I lied, he responded leaning on the balcony rail taking another puff of his cigarette, I’m sorry, he said after some time.

-About what, Bertrand asked dumbfounded.

-About Davis being gone, he sighed, I know how important it was for you that she stayed in the competition, he said sharing a glance at Bertrand.

-I really don’t care about our family situation right now, the older man stated, over the course of months I came to get attached to her she became family for us, he avowed crossing his arm in frustration, we went to retrieve her because she’s family and we never give up on family but she was so shattered she didn’t believe a word we said, he lowered his head, it’s broke me to see her like that and it broke Maxwell too we were both powerless we didn’t fight enough to make her stay it’s our fault truly you shouldn’t beat yourself for our failure, he counted patting Drake’s shoulder.

He felt even more guilty, people were trying to understand why she left, blaming themselves for her departure when in reality it had been his fault, he had destroyed her, he had broken her to the point where she withdrew from anyone, to the point she’d rather live half a life than fighting and move on with Liam, the man who was as heel over head for her as Drake was, the guy who could give her what she wanted and even more, she had picked Drake every time and he...he had wrecked her and all his friends in return...

-You didn’t fail her I did, Drake admitted somberly, I..., he chucked dryly shaking his head, I’m always ruining thing for everyone my mother was right about that at least, he choked tears falling, he quickly jerked them off his face with the back of his hand.

-Drake none of that is your fault, Bertrand insisted squeezing his shoulder.

-But it is, he half yelled, I am the one who broke her, he confessed voice trembling, I...I didn’t...none of that would have happened if...

-Listen I know that you feel responsible of it and I might have an idea of why you do so, Bertrand interrupted, but blaming yourself won’t help, it won’t make her comeback.

-Why are you telling me this, Drake asked, you’re not supposed to console me, you should be mad.

-She didn’t leave because of you, he insisted, she left because she was forced to and because she felt like they were nothing for her, he supposed.

Drake stayed silent processing everything that had been said, he was still weighing his options, still worrying about how Liam would feel if he decided to fight for Riley, he was picturing the betrayed face of his best friend he if he came hands in hands with his dream girl, he was trying to imagine how their relationship would change because of that...

It wasn’t pretty, and the more he tried to foresee that the less he was sure about going after her, he didn’t want to resent her if things with Liam were to go down, he didn’t want her to be on the spotlight again and shamed for her choices...

-Don’t make the same mistake I made, Bertrand stated remorseful.

-What mistake, Drake bided focusing his attention on the older man.

-Don’t try convincing yourself that you’re doing the right thing by giving up because trust me you’re not, he displayed pursing his lips.

The night was getting colder, but the weather wasn’t the cause of his numbness, the apathy was caused by the whole he dug in his heart by rejecting her, gazing one last time at the horizon he went back inside to join the other his heart barred his members heavy, he was in a constant struggle since he learned that she left...

And yet he couldn’t bring himself to go get her, he couldn’t betray Liam.

[imgoldielikehawn]

Run Away: More than can be Handled

Pairing: Jordan P Smith x Woc

Rating: Mature

Part 1 Here

A/N: Here is part 2 of my Jordan fic.. Things are heating up again between Sydney and Jordan...

Alex = Alex Hogh Andersen

Alexander = Alexander Ludwig

The drive to the new hotel was short, I only needed enough distance to finish out my vacation in peace and that would be the end of it.

The staff graciously helped bring my things upstairs to be unpacked and the hotel I was staying at must have put in a good word for me because the room was much nicer than I expected and it was enormous.

After I dropped my final bags in the front I walked in and decided to run a bath. I undressed and slipped into the bath filled with oils for scent and to soften my skin. I sunk down low into the tub and sighed. Of all places for us to run into one another it had to be here.. I rolled my eyes and tried my best to think about something else.

The water soothed my body but my mind ran rampant, I could still see his face when I closed my eyes. “Damn” I said out loud biting my lip and reaching back to grip my neck. He looked so fine, even still. I became momentarily annoyed with myself when I thought about why I was even in this mess. The fool had got cold feet and left me at the alter on my damn wedding day. I have no idea if he tried to contact me because id made sure he couldn’t.

  “I just want to wake a bath and not be feeling some kind of way over my damn ex!” I groaned.

 “look at me, the man already has me arguing with myself.. Dammit J .” I giggled. I washed my body and got out of the bath. The warm water was obviously going to my head.

I was wrapping the silk robe around myself when there was a knock at the door.

 “Be there in a moment!” I shouted. I ordered champagne before I got into the bath and it was probably here.

I slid my feet into my Fenty slides and walked to the front door. The back of my hair was still wet and I felt the small drops of water going down my neck. I opened the door and stood quietly taking in my visitor who was definitely not room service.

 “How’d you find me?” I sighed stepping aside to let Jordan in.

 “I asked your bartender friend. You two seemed close.” He remarked. He walked past me and I could smell his cologne.

 “Of course you did. What are you doing here J?” I asked closing the door behind me.

  Jordan's POV

  The sound of her nickname for me actually gave me chills. Fuck this woman still had me wrapped around her finger. She was in nothing more than a short silk robe and a pair of pink Fenty slides she loved to wear around the house when we were together. They were in perfect condition and I was not surprised she’d always taken serious care with her things.

 “I came to- I don’t fucking know.” I lapsed into a silence.

 “I’m fine Jordan, I was devastated the day you left me there but that was half a year ago. I am okay, I’ve been here the whole time.” She sighed and moved to lean against the large red armchair by the door.

 “I came here to say I’m sorry for everything.” I said.

 “I know you are, I am too. You weren't ready and I knew it, I just hoped you’d get over it in time for our wedding.” She shook her head and a strand of her curly hair came loose by her face.

 I looked up at her in shock, I guess my fear was obvious all this time. I didn’t know what to say in the silence now. Then again I wonder if I ever knew what to say, she ran her hand over the back of her neck like she always did when she was uncomfortable.

 “Sit down.” She said it but the tone of her voice suggested no other option so I sat in the red chair on the other side of the room.

 “What's been going on with you?” She asked.

 “Nothing much, just working and traveling the world.” I muttered.

 “Two of your favorite things, does your new girl know about me?” she asked daringly. She had never been timid about how she felt when we were together and it seemed that much hadn't changed.

 “No, the only person who does is the guy you saw sitting next to me at the bar.” I said embarrassed.

 “Ahh yes, the handsome one.” She quipped settling into her seat.

 “Really?” I narrowed my eyes at her and she only smiled.

 “What did you really come here for Jordan. You could have called I know my “friend” gave you my number as well.” She rolled her eyes and moved to cross her legs. They were long and her thighs were thick as fuck. I wanted nothing more than to be over there in between them but I didn’t know where we stood and there was Sophie to think about of course. Shame is that, Sophie was my second thought and not my first. I stood up from my chair and so did she having every intention of showing me out I'm sure.

   She reached for the door handle and then turned around to face me but I had other plans. I slipped one hand around her waist and the other went behind her head and I kissed her. She melded her body against mine immediately and for that I was grateful. He lips tasted like honey and she smelled like roses. I was bordering on spreading her thighs when she pulled back.

 “Ohh Jordan.. no.. “ She shook her head. Her voice was filled with regret but her eyes were blown wide and I'm sure mine were too.

 “Fuck… I don’t have an excuse.” I said searching her face. Her long lashes graced her cheeks as she looked down between us.

 “Neither do I.” She looked up at me. “ You should go.”

 I stepped back from her, opened the door and did not look back as I walked away.

   Sydney's POV

  I leaned against the closed door and placed my hands over my warm lips. He tasted better than I remembered. I tugged on the curls that had fallen from my bun. I never felt more confused in my life, which was saying something. I looked around the room as though I was worried about getting caught.

Shit, this was definitely a setback instead of a step forward. We’d been in love for what seemed like forever but this … was a mess, this wasn’t love.

 Past

 I graduated from college and Jordan was well into his acting career. My father had never really gotten over his feelings about J but he knew that he was not going anywhere. The walk to the apartment was a short one, we’d moved to LA and I was already working. The bills got paid and we still had fun most days. Being young had its perks I suppose. I knocked on the apartment door and heard the crashing that surely meant Jordan had tripped over the moving boxes again.

 “Baby!” He smiled breathlessly opening the door.

 “Did you run here?” I laughed.

 “Shut up and come here.” He laughed and pulled me inside.

 The nights were always like these. We ate, we laughed and just enjoyed each others company. Most of the time I found myself trying to pick his brain, I just wanted to know how someone as handsome as him could love someone like me. He was much more than handsome though, he was kind and funny. He was easy to talk to and quite understanding.

 He was laying on the couch watching some TV show when I came up and straddled him. I did not waste time with pleasantries either. It was hard to resist him as is and I had no desire to play it up with false modesty. I began to grind myself over his pelvis as he watched with huge eyes.

 “You don’t waste any time do you baby?” He breathed deeply sitting up to pull my chest to his.

 “Not since the day I met you.” I winked and leaned down to plant my lips against his in lust. His strong hands went underneath my shirt to artfully unhinge my bra and under the cups to roll my hardening buds between his fingers. I bit my lip in invitation for his and he enthusiastically accepted. He used his free hand to push my curls from my face as our grind became more frantic. The friction of his sweats against my clit was more than I could handle.

 “Fuck me.. Please Jordan.” I said it in a tone that left little to negotiation.

 “Say it again.” Jordan pulled my hair roughly jerking my head back and left my neck exposed to him as his hips slowed down the pace.

 “Fuck me Jordan… now.” I was panting at this point.. I was close to seeing stars and we weren't even having sex yet.

 “So fucking demanding..” he kissed my neck…….

  Present

 I sighed and buried my face in my hands. That’s the way it had always been between us. We ignited each other and combusted when we were without the other. It was a mess really if you looked at it from a distance. Sighing again I walked to the bed and crashed down on it hoping it was the last time id seen him but also dying to kiss him again.

 “What a vexing thing it is… to be a woman.”…..

  Jordan's POV

   I told Sophie I was going to stay with Alex tonight and she didn’t object. She never did, she trusted me too much. A trust that I had ruined only hours ago. Alex was hardly any help at all in this situation, not only was he young but he believed in love over everything. It looked like I was going to have to call the other Alex..

  When Alexander arrived I let him in looking dejected and somewhat frantic.

  “What the hell happened?” He said his black snap-back backwards on his head.

 “Jordan's fucked up, as usual.” Alex said throwing his hair in a ponytail so he could fit his gaming headphones over his hair without it getting caught.

 “Shut your mouth Alex.” I frowned. It only took a few minutes before I launched into my tale. I told him everything. How I met Sydney, our wedding day. I told him about seeing her today at the hotel and going to see her afterwards.

 “What the fuck Jordan, you’ve done it this time…” He laughed.

 “This isn't funny man, I have no idea what I’m going to do.” I shook my head and took a swig of my beer.

 “well, if I knew you were going to stay away from this Sydney girl id tell you to keep what happened to yourself and never see her again; but we both know that ain’t happening so you’d better tell break it off with Sophie before you have sex with Sydney, because you will have sex with her. I feel like you would have if she hadn't stopped you.” Alexander smirked and tossed his hands up.

I wanted to be mad at him but I knew he was just being brutally honest with me. What a fucking mess I created for us all……

   “What does she look like?” Alexander asked.

I pulled out my phone and pulled up her Instagram, I hadn't been on here in a while and her account was much popular than I remembered.

  I held out my phone and Alexander took it. His eyes grew wide and I watched him swallow and then looked up at me with a grin.

 “Really… you left her at the alter man?” He made a ridiculous face.

 “You should see her in person!” Alex chimed in from over the couch.

 “yeah… Sophie is beautiful but uh… Sydney. Damn I don’t have words.” He shook his head and returned my phone. I had half a mind to like the photo but I knew that was my buzzed mind speaking.

I tossed my phone on the couch and looked over at Alexander and sighed….

Tags:

@oddsnendsfanfics @lupy22 @sparklemichele @readsalot73 @laketaj24 @skitburst @vikingsmania @getinmelanin011 @letsshamelessqueen-m

@titty-teetee @harleycativy @oneday-i-will-fight-luke17 @galaxygimger1234 @jdroman5432 @yessscolbybrock @beltzboys2015-blog @beltz2016 @asadmelon @captstefanbrandt @btswings4ever @samwinchxtr @rls905 @sporadichologramblizzard-ed17414 @lay-all-on-me @kenzieam @pathybo  @wilddrabble 

[neoct18]

pricked; chapter iii

◖pairing ─ reader x taemin

◖rating ─ m [angst, profanity]

◖word count ─  1.815

◖a/n ─ i think this will only have a few more parts. thank you for all the support!

part I , part II

❝ You devastate me. ❞

Taemin knew this would be no negotiation.

He’d grown bored of bad people playing a shoot out as a ‘meet up.’ He’d grown bored of older men in his line of work sugarcoating their crimes with dictionary words. They were all thugs. They committed crimes. They were no ‘top dog’, they didn’t belong in no mafia, they just were. They saw an easy way out, and they grabbed it.

They were all scum, himself included. Though that was about to change, if all in Hell went well. VIXX was an established underground mafia, their circles running throughout South Korea, and even though Taemin was sure Ravi wasn’t the mind behind the organization, he’d found the man crazy enough to be a genius. That was Taemin’s definition of a ‘top dog.’

No gang, and certainly not his, could ever match VIXX, no matter how smart all the members in his group were. He only controlled a few districts in Seoul. And that had taken an awful lot of work; he didn’t like getting his hands dirty, but if you didn’t want to be anyone’s bitch, you always had to do things yourself.

If his father ever taught him anything, it was this.

So after the shoot out at the abandoned building, he followed Leo, Ravi’s right hand, back to their base on his motorbike. He never trusted going with anyone anywhere. It was part of having his own back.

Minho was more reckless. First he insisted on going with him to Busan, and now he’s riding with South Korea’s biggest gang, on unknown territory. Taemin had to give it to his hyung; he had guts.

But Taemin had death. And that, he could hold over everyone’s head. You don’t become a gang leader at twenty-four by bending over and letting them fuck you in the ass. Fuck no.

You had to have a personality; a question mark; a vibe to you. You needed to have your cards right twenty-four seven. And he had all of that. His deadly, quiet aura is what gave him power. He wished he could say his looks didn’t play any part in it, but he’d be lying. Just like he could sweet talk his way out of any girl, he used the same technique but more bluntly to get things done his way.

If you wanted a meeting with Taemin, you bet your bottom dollar you’d leave out of that room with a deal in his favor, without even knowing how.

And that was why Taemin’s gang was hated on. That, and also because his brothers and him were some handsome motherfuckers.

When they reached a house, a little out of Busan, he killed the engine off and walked past everyone, heading straight for Ravi, who was waiting for them on the stairs of what Taemin supposed could be described as a mansion. It made no difference. Anything that has a roof is a house to him; big or small only played a role in the bedroom.

“You’re a crazy bastard, Lee,” Ravi greeted him with a wolfish grin.

Taemin couldn’t help but smirk at his old friend. “I’m not the one having every police station after my ass.”

Ravi’s hair shone fire engine red under the lights of the useless, in Taemin’s eyes, chandeliers.

“Wait ‘til you join us and I’ll let you have a taste.” 

Wonsik’s words sounded like a promise, and Taemin found himself questioning his decisions for the first time in a long while.

You were making tea on that Thursday night, an old movie used as background noise at your empty little room.

When this room became your only option with the limited money you could offer as rent, you had seriously considered moving back with your parents.  But you couldn’t pull through it. You left for a reason, and that was to grow more as your own person. Admitting defeat because of money problems didn’t seem like a good enough reason to run back to Mom and Dad with your tail between your legs.

But that wasn’t what was on your mind, while you poured the hot water into the mug. You wish life was a simple matter such as money, though undoubtedly money couldn’t be classified as ‘a simple matter.’

Taemin had changed your perspective on so many things. You had never really realized how much of his character had slipped through the cracks of your bones, entangling with your own beliefs.

Taemin. Was he even alive? You agonized over it these past two days, when there were no calls, no texts. You reasoned with yourself; things like: ‘Alive? Is this even a real question right now?’ or ‘This isn’t your life, (Y/N). You better wake up from this.’ None of the wake up calls shook you though.

You knew questions like those were part of your reality now. It wasn’t some Korean drama you binge watched, nor a dream of a reckless life. You’d laughed half your way through it, and cried the rest. Bottom line was: If he was alive, he’d come any time now. And you had to give an answer, when you didn’t have one.

Or, better worded, you did have one, you just didn’t know if it was the right one.

You couldn’t sugarcoat it, no matter how you thought about it. You first met Taemin as a different you, a more carefree you, a girl that wasn’t afraid to have a night one stand with a stranger, because, well, fuck, what was life, anyway, right? Who knew?

This whole thing started with you on all fours, coming for a hot guy that drilled into you the fastest you ever had it. And it changed, because apparently love changes everything.

You say you are one thing, but your heart turns blind one day, and suddenly you are something else entirely. And he’s telling you to walk away from it, but from what? Your heart? Him and every way he fucked with your mind? Or the way he fucked you, period?

The lines had been blurred so much, your situation was only bound to get confusing.

When you went to sit on your bed, your phone chirped. Your heart skipped a beat, and letting the mug down with nervous hands, you grabbed the phone and opened the text.

         ‘Open the door.’ read at 23:07

You don’t know how fast you got to the door, or how Taemin collapsed on his knees in front of you, his hands grabbing at your thighs, bloody face buried between them, nuzzling at the soft feeling of your pajamas.

Someone gasped, you, and the vulnerable boy on his knees in front of you let out a muffled scream. It vibrated through you, and shattered your heart. Tears came quicker than you expected, trying to grab at his hands, telling him to get up in a panicked voice.

“It’s cold, it’s cold, please,” you muttered, fingers tangled in his soft, black hair.

It was like something snapped inside him, and next thing you knew he was kicking the door shut, and leaving kisses dangerously close to the place you’d missed him most.

“Taemin?”

“It’s okay,” he rasped, hands tugging your pajama bottoms down.

You had no option but to step out of them. But you were also taken aback. What had happened? What was this? Why was he acting so passionately?

“Wait, wait,” you grabbed hold of his face and pushed it back so you could look at him.

He looked fine, no injuries, but his face had dried brushes of blood. You scanned his dark eyes. He wouldn’t look directly at you.

“Get up and tell me what the fuck happened.”

“Mind your tone.”

“Mind your hands.”

He sighed, closing his eyes and standing up, fingers still tracing your body.

“What happened?” you asked again, guiding his gaze with your hand on his cheek, making him look at you.

“You.” His eyes were furious, but his voice sounded small; soft. “They know about you, they know where you work, what rout you take to your house, your favorite tea shop, what you look like naked─” he cut himself off, tearing his face from your hands, jaw locked.

You should’ve panicked, but you needed more answers. Your trembling worsened.

“Why did you scream?” He didn’t answer. “Taemin.”

“You devastate me,” he began, still refusing to look at you, fists tucked at his sides.

“I didn’t know─  I hadn’t realized how invested I was in you, until they gave me your file and I saw the pictures. Your private moments. Things only I should be seeing, things only I have permission to see─” he stopped again, the clenching of his teeth making it hard for you to understand what he was saying.

“That’s why they needed me now. ‘Cause they were on me. And me being a target means the guys being targets, and you being a target, and I spent half an hour out there thinking about you drinking your goddamned rose tea and being so fucking... clueless of all the ways you could’ve died at any possible second before I got here.

“This is so hard, (Y/N),” that’s when he looked at you, red rimmed eyes looking the most serious you’ve ever seen them. “Stop,” he grabbed your shoulders.

You hadn’t realized you were shaking.

“I never gave a damn about anything, until I spotted you at that bar. From that point on I felt responsible for everything that happened in your life. Even...” he chuckled, “even when you didn’t wear a jacket when going to the convenience store to buy ramen cups. I beat myself up for days for not dressing you up myself when you got that cough.

“I want more for you, and I want to be the one to give it to you, but all I am is a fucked up nobody who doesn’t deserve you, yet got stuck with you. On you. But I’m not going to be saying these things every day. I’m not going to be your little boyfriend, and we’ll never be able to go on dates, ‘cause I’ll be out killing people. I’m cold; I play mind games, and sometimes I’m awkward but I cover it up by being an asshole, and you devastate me.”

He grabbed your ass and lifted you up, wrapping your legs around his waist, and moved towards the bed. You wouldn’t think about his words, ‘cause you smelt the alcohol on his breath. 

“I missed your body so fucking much,” he whispered, voice raspy from cigarettes and liquor.

You wouldn’t take his words to heart, like you’ve always tried to do. So for now, you’d just take his clothes off, and let him have his way with you, ‘cause you knew he needed this.

You also hoped that would give him his answer. If he remembered any of it come morning.