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louiseleblancdiggory · 4 years

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Dorothea

I can’t believe I’m back! It’s been a little rough these past couple of months but I’m happy to be writing again and hopefully will bring it back to my daily routine! Taylor released a new album so of course I had to write something! I hope you guys enjoy, it’s just a little silly thing.

“We are a failure.”

“We have five Grammys.”

“We are a failure with five Grammys.”

Gavriel snorted at the same time Lorcan threw a piece of paper at Fenrys’s head. Rowan simply sighed, resting his head against the table and letting out a deep groan.

“Why can’t we release the album with twelve songs?” He raised his head, looking at his bandmates. “Every single song we tried to write this past week was absolute shit. I don’t want to shove some lame ass song on our album because my aunt feels like we should have thirteen songs like the last two albums.”

“Yeah, sure.” Fenrys snorted. “Why don’t you go tell Maeve that?”

Vaughan chuckled, putting the drumsticks down and walking to the table where Fenrys, Rowan, and Connall were sitting. Lorcan and Gavriel both sat on the ground nearby, ripping out bad half-finished lyrics from some notebooks.

“We need a vocalist, that’s why he won’t do it.” Vaughan singsonged, sitting by Connall’s side. “We have been trying to write the songs together, why don’t we try something each one of us wrote separately?”

There was a beat of silence. For the five years the band had been together, every single song had been written by all the members. Sometimes two or three of them would do most of the work, but out of their thirty eight songs, there wasn’t one that didn’t have a contribution from all the members. Yeah, they would write their own songs, but it was never really serious or even meant to be used in an album.

And because they weren’t serious or meant to be used in an album, they were either absolute shit or fucking personal.

Rowan held in another groan.

Lorcan shrugged, getting up and sitting by Rowan’s side. Gavriel did the same, sitting on the table head opposite to where Fenrys was.

“Ok, who’s gonna go first?” Gavriel clapped his hands. “Fenrys.”

“Why me?” He squeaked.

“Why not you?” Connall butted in.

“Yeah, why not you?” Vaughan backed his boyfriend.

“Rowan, this is a mutiny against me.” Fenrys turned his head to Rowan, pouting like a child.

Both Rowan and Lorcan smiled sarcastically, and the latter said, “you are not the one in charge. If it was a mutiny, it would be against Rowan.”

“Who asked for the vulture to speak?” Fenrys asked, eyes narrowing at Lorcan.

“Just show us a goddamn song, Fen.” Rowan sighed, rubbing his temples. A few years ago, he had insisted for Gavriel to be the leader of the band. The older man had refused profusely, and Rowan only found out why when he started being the leader.

He was surrounded by adults who had the money and influence of gods but acted like children.

It was like being a mother but without the Mother’s day gifts. No advantages, really.

As instructed, Fenrys presented three songs for the group. And then Vaughan did. And then Connall, Gavriel, and Lorcan.

“I don’t know how to say this politely…” Connall started.

“They are absolute shit.” Lorcan finished.

“Shit is a compliment.” Rowan nodded, letting out a straggled laugh. He scratched the stubble on his cheeks, a small sense of panic rising inside of him. It wasn’t that Rowan was shy— he had let go of his shyness a long time ago—, but that didn’t mean he liked to go around advertising his personal ideas to the world. Some lyrics drafts should remain just that— drafts. Not everything was meant to be heard by everyone. Gathering some of his courage along with the knowledge that an acceptable song was an absolute necessity, he sighed. “I might have something.”

“What is it?” Gavriel said calmly at the same time Lorcan grunted. “You have something and you let us go through the torture of listening to Fenrys’s ideas?”

“You hurt my feelings like that, man.”

Rowan ignored both Lorcan and Fenrys, turning to Gavriel. “It’s about a girl.”

The room was dead silent.

Rowan knew he wasn’t really the dating type, much less the type to write songs about love, but the absolute silence was a little offensive.

“Ok…” Vaughan said, a scary smile on his face. “That came out of nowhere.”

“You can love someone?” Connall asked.

“You can feel emotions?” Fenrys deadpanned after his twin finished his sentence.

Lorcan snorted and Rowan saw Gavriel biting the inside of his cheeks. Absolute regret washed over his body immediately, but it was too late to back down.

Rowan tried to play it cool, keeping any emotions out of his face. He shrugged, opening a notebook and tapping a pen against it. “Not anyone I’ve seen in years. I don’t even remember her real name.”

The Cadre exchanged looks.

“When I was a kid my parents used to send me to this summer camp. From ages six to thirteen there was this girl who also went every single summer. She was a year younger, but we were friends. Barely talked during the rest of the year, maybe exchanged a letter or two.” He continued, eyes skimming through the lyrics in front of him. “Childhood crush and all. I know her name started with an A… Maybe an E? The counselors used to call her Dorothy, and I thought it was Dorothea. Called her that for two months until she corrected me. The nickname stuck between us, so yeah, Dorothea is all I have. I was thirteen when I stopped going, so she was twelve. Probably doesn’t even remember me.”

“Oh, that’s cute… Tragic young love and all.” Fenrys was smiling like an idiot, and Rowan rolled his eyes. He had never talked to anyone about Dorothea, not even his parents, not even when he was a kid. Life at home was shit during the whole year, but the summers? They were for late nights, swimming in the lake, running in the forest. They were sunny, and easy, and the few good memories he had from childhood. And she was in all of those memories— the girl and that fucking dog. Dorothea was the purest thing about his childhood, and he never wanted to have her memory stained by telling about her to his parents or school friends.

“Let me see this.” Vaughan said, taking Rowan’s notebook before Rowan could react. His friend’s pitch black eyes skimmed rapidly through the page, mouth opening slowly. “Holy shit.”

“It’s shit?” Lorcan asked.

“No, I mean holy shit as in this is amazing.” Vaughan looked up, brows raised. He passed the notebook to Gavriel, making both Lorcan and Connall move closer to read it too. “You had this song for two years now according to the date on the edge of the page. Why didn’t you share?”

Rowan cleared his throat, regret just growing more and more. “We write every song together.”

“If every song you write is like this, then we should probably let you take care of this task from now on.” Lorcan said, taking the notebook and throwing it to Fenrys.

Fenrys’s was probably Rowan’s best friend. They knew each other for the longest, and even though Rowan would never admit it out loud, Fenrys was the closest thing he had to a family and his approval was important.

Fen raised his head from the notebook, dark eyes shinning as a huge smile broke his face in half. “We’re recording this. Today.”

Connall and Vaughan laughed, and Lorcan clapped Rowan’s back. “Good job, birdie.”

Rowan didn’t know exactly what he was feeling, but somewhere between absolute fright and excitement could probably describe it.

—————

“Rowan Whitethorn!” A female voice rang through the room, and every member of the Cadre winced.

“Your aunt is gonna kill you.” Connall said, face washed with fear.

Maeve Whitethorn was the scariest woman to ever walk this earth, and so Rowan didn’t think Connall was completely wrong about that.

And yet, when Maeve entered the room she was…

“What the fuck.” Fenrys blurted out.

Smiling?

“She smiles.” Fenrys loudly whispered to Lorcan, receiving a punch to his arm.

“You, my nephew, are a fucking genius.”

“Yeah, ok, what the fuck.” Vaughan asked from the drums.

“What did I do?” Rowan asked cautiously, afraid that his aunt had actually gone insane.

“Dorothea, that’s what you did!”

“People liked the song then?” Gavriel asked from the couch. “It was a filler song, but good to know that’s not forgotten.”

“Oh, you’re not understanding.” Maeve laughed. All the boys’ jaws went slack. “People are eating that song up. And I mean trending everywhere, top in every single chart… Everyone loves Dorothea.”

“But how?” Lorcan frowned. “We didn’t advertise it.”

“Because people love a real life story of love.”

With that comment, Rowan’s body went taunt.

What the fuck.

No one in the band had told anyone what the song was about, nor that it was a real thing. For all the world knew, it was just another song that the band wrote together. And that’s how it should have stayed. Rowan hated being the center of attentions, and hated even more when his personal life was the topic at matter.

Dorothea had been his secret for so long, and he really thought that the song would be a secretive way to tell the story to the world.

If people knew it was real, if people knew anything about it, it was obviously not as secretive as he thought it was gonna be.

Shit, Dorothea wasn’t even her real fucking name. There’s no way anyone could know that.

Unless…

“Wait, she heard the song?” Rowan blurted out, a mix of emotions making his stomach drop. That also wasn’t on his plans.

Fenrys’s eyes widened. “Dorothea came forward?”

“Holy shit.” Vaughan let out a nervous laugh. Connall put a hand over his mouth, and both Lorcan and Gavriel looked at Rowan.

The boys knew how Rowan wanted this song to go. Knew he didn’t want the real story to go around like this. Because when stories went around like this, people would start making theories, and harassing the girl, and just shoving themselves in situations that did not concern them. Rowan loved his fans, loved the world he was in, but he was also the first to admit how brutal it could be. It would only take one slip up, one fact about this girl that the media didn’t like, for the whole world to attack her.

Rowan tried to protect her from his fucked up life during childhood just to throw her to the sharks later on.

And yet, another part of his panic had nothing to do with the media and the fans. It had to do with her. What if she hated the song? What of she didn’t want that story to be told? What if she wished for a calm life where her presence would never be noticed by the media? Rowan couldn’t stop thinking about her reaction, if she had remembered him the first time she listened to it or if it took a while.

He felt like his own body was trying to suffocate itself.

Fuck, he was gonna vomit. Or maybe pass out. Shit maybe even pass out on a pool of his vomit.

Ok, that was disgusting.

“It wasn’t the girl who came forward, it was her roommate. Posted a video online and then boom! Global success.” Maeve said, not even noticing her nephew’s growing panic. “Wait, I’ll show you the video!”

Fenrys grabbed Rowan’s shoulder, sitting by his side on the couch as Maeve plugged her phone to the projector. Lorcan sat between Rowan and Gavriel on the couch, and Connall and Vaughan sat on the ground. All of them looked expectantly at the screen, waiting for the bomb to drop.

He was gonna see her again.

After sixteen years.

Shit, it was getting hot inside that fucking room.

The screen popped up, and a beautiful woman with green eyes and long dark brown hair showed up.

“That’s not her.” Rowan blurted out. She could have dyed her hair, facial expression changed over the years but… That wasn’t the girl he met during the summer. No, he would recognize her eyes anywhere, and they sure as hell weren’t green like his.

Maeve rolled her eyes. “I told you it was her roommate who came forward. Now watch.”

The video started playing, and the strong and excited voice of the smiling woman on the screen started sounding through the speakers. “Ok, so I was driving home the other day, listening to the new album of the Cadre when the song Dorothea came up, right? And I thought that it was a little strange for the Cadre to put a rerecording of a song on the album since they had never done it before.”

The girl started to walk around her apartment, excitement lacing every single word.

“But then I found out that Dorothea is not a rerecording. But that doesn’t make sense, because I was a hundred percent sure I already knew this story. I don’t know any Dorothea, and I sure as hell don’t know Rowan Whitethorn, so it made no sense that I already knew the story being told in the song.” The girl let out a laugh, entering a room inside her apartment. “For days I would listen to that fucking song and keep asking myself why I feel like I know it. It’s not from a book, a movie…”

She started pulling out a box from under the bed, smile widening.

“And so yesterday my roommate asked me to grab an old box of VHS under her bed when I saw this box.” She filmed a huge box in front of her, the lid barely containing all the photos inside. “And that’s when I remembered where I know Dorothea from.”

The girl laughed again, opening the lid and running her hand through the pictures. “I knew the story because she had told me years ago. Dorothea wasn’t her fucking name, it was her nickname.”

As if in slow motion, the brunette took out an old picture from inside the box. Rowan felt all the air leaving his lungs as he stared at it. The picture was a little blurry, but there was no mistaking it. It was eight year old him in swim trunks, his arm over the shoulder of a shorter seven year old blond girl. Her biking was pink and full of frills, her wet blond hair sticking to her shoulders. She was holding a small black puppy, the dog obviously trying to wiggle himself out of the picture. The both stood before the lake, smiling brightly, a bunch of teeth missing. The girl in the video turned the picture, and right there, written in a fading blue pen was what made the song so famous.

Dorothea and Roro and Toto. Summer of 2000.

The girl in the video turned the camera back to her, smile not leaving her lips. “She told me that the nickname was Dorothea because the counselors used to call her Dorothy. As in the Wizard of Oz. The dog’s name was Toto, and so she was Dorothy. But then, he understood it wrong and just called her Dorothea. And…”

“What are you doing in my room?” A sweet, soft, and low voice interrupted whatever the brunette was going to say. She let out a yelp, letting the phone fall.

And the screen went black.

The room was silent for a few minutes after the video was over.

“Well shit.” Fenrys broke the silence. “What are the chances of her being as beautiful as her roommate?”

Lorcan reached behind Rowan to hit Fenrys on the back of his head.

“We should put a gag in his mouth.” Gavriel sighed.

“Oh, kinky.” Fenrys smiled seductively and winked at Gavriel. If it weren’t for the absolute shock raging inside of him, Rowan would have laughed.

“Is there a video of her?” Rowan quietly asked his aunt.

She looked at him for a second too long before nodding. “Just a second, there might be one. She isn’t really one for the cameras, but I do think she showed up in a Halloween video.”

She wasn’t one for the cameras.

Shit, shit, shit.

She wasn’t one for the cameras and Rowan had made her existence global knowledge.

Maeve took a few seconds to try to find the video, smiling again once she found it.

“This is still fucking weird. Your aunt can smile.” Fenrys said, and Rowan was glad for the words. Everything was happening too fast and too slow at the same time, and Fenrys’s stupid comments were a good way of centering himself. Looking at his friend, Rowan realized that Fenrys knew exactly what he was doing. “I thought she had lost the ability when she was, like, five or something.”

“That would imply that Maeve was ever a child.” Vaughan whispered from the ground.

Connall snorted, and Lorcan tried to contain a smirk.

“Here it is!” Maeve announced.

As if the screen was a magnet, all the eyes in the room snapped back to it. They all watched the screen expectantly, and Rowan thought Fenrys was even bouncing on his seat.

A petite woman appeared, clad in a black dress that matched her pitch black hair and eyes. If Rowan wasn’t so distracted, maybe he would have noticed Lorcan’s low, and yet sharp, intake of breath.

The pale girl was in the middle of two taller guys, one with inky black hair with a crown on top of it, sapphire eyes contrasting with the blood red of his cloak, and the other one with golden blond hair under a pirate hat. The three of them stared at a tall woman dressed in what Rowan supposed was a reaper costume. The white blond hair and golden eyes made her perfect for the part.

“He’s a cunt.” The reaper girl said, picking her nails with a scythe Rowan wasn’t absolutely sure was fake. The girl behind the camera— the brunette that recorded the video that exposed the real meaning of the song, Rowan supposed— chuckled as the two other guys exchanged a humorous look.

The petite woman smiled, obviously in agreement with her friend. “He is, but that’s ok. Did Tam end our three year relationship, six hours before Halloween, through the phone? Yes. Were we planning on a couple’s costume and I was left like an idiot wearing an Evie O’Connell costume with no Rick? Yes. But that’s ok because I have…”

“Me.” That same low and soft voice filled the room again, and as if she was always the center of attentions, all heads in the video snapped to her. Even though she wasn’t on camera yet, Rowan could hear the smile in her voice.

The blond guy rolled his eyes. “You have a thing for dramatic entrances, Aelin.”

Aelin.

Her name was Aelin.

“Reason why I live, actually. But come on. Don’t I deserve a dramatic entrance when I look like this? I look rather fucking dashing as Rick O’Connell, don’t I?”

“She does.” The guy with inky black hair nodded towards the blond guy.

“Don’t encourage her.” The other grunted, shaking his head but obviously smiling. “If my cousin’s head grows a little bit more she won’t be able to pass through the door.”

And then, as if time itself had stopped that second, the camera turned to Aelin and all oxygen left the room.

“Fucking shit.” Connall breathed, and Rowan saw Fenrys’s jaw going slack from the corner of his eye.

In his defense, so did Rowan’s.

The woman— Aelin— was exactly what she had just called herself. Fucking dashing.

Golden strawberry hair pulled back into one of those high, terribly made buns, slightly tan skin, and bright blue eyes, Aelin was every inch dashing she claimed to be. The costume was exactly what Brendan Fraser had wore the majority of the movie, and hell if it didn’t fit her perfectly. Aelin had grown to be the most beautiful woman Rowan had ever seen, and he felt his heart doing laps inside his chest just like when he was younger.

Well, fuck.

“If she was Rick O’Connell in the movies I would have probably paid more attention.” Fenrys muttered, dodging another hit from Lorcan. “What?! Look at her. The girl looks like the offspring of an angel and a supermodel.”

Aelin grinned, straight white teeth biting her lower lip. “Thank you, Dorian. And, I don’t need encouragement, Aedion. I am quite capable of being narcissistic on my own.”

The girl with blond white hair chuckled. “You were supposed to be a reaper with me.”

Aelin fake pouted. “Elide, my dearest cousin,” Aelin said pointedly, eyes narrowing at Aedion. Elide, the petite girl dressed as Evie, bit her cheeks to keep a smile in. “Needed me. Put a crown on top of your pretty head and do a couple’s costume with your boyfriend, Manon.”

Dorian sighed. “I tried convincing her.”

Manon simply crossed her arms. “I don’t do couple’s costume.”

Aelin shrugged nonchalantly. “Pity.”

And then, much to Rowan’s absolute panic and fascination, Aelin turned directly to the camera. She was obviously going to talk to the girl recording, but Rowan could barely hear the words as her full face came into view. Aelin was beautiful, but Aelin staring straight at you? Breathtaking.

“Don’t you think it’s a pity, Lys?” Aelin asked innocently, but a smirk graced her lips.

The smile in Lys’s voice was obvious. “Oh, yes. A pity.”

Aelin smiled, turning to Elide with a raised brow. Her cousin gave a less vicious version of Aelin’s smile. “Such a pity.”

It was obviously some inside joke, because Manon grunted, rolling her eyes. “Are we going or not?”

Aelin rich laugh drowned the room before the video ended.

“Well.” Vaughan said after a few beats of silence.

“Well.” Gavriel agreed.

“Well.” Another voice came from the door, and Rowan had to keep a displeased grunt in as Erawan walked into the room. The man was smiling sarcastically, eyeing the frozen image on the screen hungrily. Aelin had thrown her head back, mouth half open as she laughed. “Would you be pissed if I asked her hand in marriage, Rowan? Quite a beautiful girl, your Dorothea.”

Rowan would have gotten up and punched Erawan if Fenrys hadn’t literally sat on his lap before he could do anything. His friend turned to Erawan with a smile on his lips. “Unfortunately, Ewew, I believe the lady in question must prefer to stick to humans. She doesn’t really look like the I-do-demons type.”

Despite the obvious tension in the room, Connall took out his phone and took a picture of Fenrys sitting on Rowan’s lap. Lorcan had his arm behind both Gavriel and Rowan, and Vaughan was sitting in between Rowan and Lorcan’s leg. “You guys look like a strange ass family. This is gonna be this year’s Christmas card. I’ll photoshop myself in.”

Lorcan snorted, shaking his head before looking at Erawan. “Let’s leave the girl out of this, alright? If any of us wanted to use her for advertisement, we would have contacted her ourselves.”

“I’m your PR.” Erawan smiled. He was, a fact that the whole Cadre regretted. All pf them waited excitedly for the day Erawan’s contract expired.

Maeve was hard and cold, Erawan was a straight up asshole. Not even his aunt could put up with him for long.

“A very unfortunate fact you never let us forget, Earwax.” Fenrys said, nodding diplomatically. “Very, very unfortunate.”

“I don’t want her involved in any of this shit.” Rowan finally said something, voice low and threatening. Just the thought of throwing his childhood friends to the wolves that surrounded his life made his stomach turn. “You are my PR, so do your job. Create a distraction, release some rerecording, book us some interviews… I don’t care, but I want the focus away from her. I don’t want her involved in anything, Erawan. I mean it.”

The room was silent, tension threatening to suffocate anyone who breathed deep enough.

To Rowan’s surprise, and some gratefulness, Maeve took a step forward. She unplugged her phone from the projector, and Aelin’s image disappeared. “I believe it’s better if we keep the girl out of this. She’s very low profile, private accounts on both Twitter and Instagram. Dragging her into spotlight might not be a good option, specially since we don’t know how she behaves, what it would do to the image of the band. We have a love story, let the fans speculate, do some theories. Everything will die down in a month and she’ll be able to continue with her life.”

For all her harshness, all her coldness, Maeve wasn’t a bad aunt. She started taking care of Rowan when he was fifteen, and although they never had a close relationship, Maeve knew how to help him whenever he really needed it. It was the reason why he asked her to be the band manager, despite her obvious dislike of the human race. She was smart, cunning, and, at that moment, was using both qualities to keep Aelin out of what would become a huge mess.

“If we bring her in, there is nothing to terrorize. Her personality will be real, not something fans can stipulate and mold to their liking. She’s young and private, throwing her to the media would be a carnage. Leave Aelin out of this.” Gavriel tried to resonate with Erawan, voice low and calm as always.

Erawan sat on a table, a fake hurt expression overtaking his features as he sighed. “If only you had told me that before.”

The pit inside Rowan’s stomach grew.

“Before what.” Vaughan grunted.

“Before I contacted the girl.” Erawan smiled, as Rowan felt all the oxygen leave the room. He stared straight into Rowan’s eyes, a cruel smile overtaking his lips. “Would you like to see your childhood friend again, Whitethorn?”

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houseof-harry · 4 years

Note

Damn that’s alottt. can u take this one rq tho🥺 gray’s girl going down on him while he’s on a call and trying his absolute best to keep his shit together sbxnd SORRY THIS JUST CAME TO MIND

Quarantine has changed life for you guys in a lot of ways. Seeing less people, working from home, trying to only go grocery shopping once a week, stuff like that.

You and Grayson had also never spent so much time together before. Sure, you saw each other almost everyday before, but since he asked you to stay with him and Ethan for quarantine, it’s been you three together all day everyday.

Which is why once things start to pick up again, it’s harder to adjust. You have more assignments to do, he has more online meetings and him and E are always busy with YouTube. So you both start to feel it when you get less fun time together.

That being said, you guys have spent almost the whole day apart. He got up to go on an early morning surf, and by the time he got back and made breakfast you were already hard at work. And for the rest of the day your schedules didn’t seem to add up.

By the time the sun starts to set, you’re finishing up your work and he’s on his last zoom of the night. He’s sat at the kitchen table, serious look on his face when you come in to grab a glass of water. You give him a gentle smile as you sit across from him, and he lifts his hand in a wave back so that he can keep most of his attention on the computer.

Ethan had gone out a little while ago to run some errands and then pick up dinner for the three of you. He hadn’t texted asking for your orders yet, so you knew you had some time with Gray before he got home.

You’d like to blame the stupid tik tok trend where people walk in naked on their boyfriends while on a call for what you did next, but you know it’s really your need for him. You’d been overworked, barely able to keep your eyes open long enough to make it to the bed, never mind to fuck him. You missed that, and you’d had enough. You and Gray needed more fun, anyways.

Which brings you to you lifting the oversized shirt over your head, revealing to Grayson that you had nothing on underneath.

His eyes widen, and you can visibly see him swallow as his gaze goes over your naked upper half. You giggle, biting your lip and loving the way he can’t seem to get his attention anywhere besides your tits.

It’s only when someone on the call says his name that his eyes snap back to the screen with a short apology. He’s folded his arms so that his chin can rest on his hands that are in fists as he clearly does everything he can to calm his racing thoughts and answer the question given to him.

You quickly stand from your chair, falling to your knees and right before you go beneath the table, your eyes meet his as he looks at you with utter shock written all over his face. It’s hard to catch him off guard, and it’s even harder to hide your intentions from him.

This makes you smirk, knowing you’ve got him completely confused and definitely turned on based on the bulge in his boxers as you slowly make your way across the floor and between his legs.

His thighs tense the second he feels your fingers trace over the exposed skin, and you’re glad he only went professional for the top half of his look.

You grip both of his thighs, and you hear his breath catch as you realize he can’t see any of your movements due to the table blocking his view. You lick your lips as you try your best to stay focused on the task at hand, letting your tongue flatten on his bulge, slowly following his hardening shaft from base to tip over the fabric.

One of his hands quickly comes to grab the edge of the table tightly and you can see his knuckles already turning white. Too easy, you think to yourself, knowing this won’t take you long.

You move your hands so that one can pull at the hem of his underwear, the other reaching past it to bring his cock out to be right in your face. His words come flying out of his mouth at the feeling of your hand wrapping around him, and he completely pauses when he feels your hot breath on his tip in anticipation.

Once he doesn’t feel your mouth, he starts his train of thought again.

“I think it’s important we consider the audience we’re trying to market to when-”

You wrap your lips around him, swirling your tongue against the sensitive skin of his tip. He coughs, covering up the gasp that feel from his mouth the second he felt you on him. The hand that isn’t gripping the table for any sense of staying in reality grips the back of your head. He doesn’t push you down like normal, but he doesn’t pull you off, either.

So you continue to work your tongue at his tip, swiping over his slit every so often just to see his entire body tense up. Eventually you start pumping your hand that was around his base, working him up slowly.

You can hear him becoming more and more flustered with your movements, and he’s barely speaking at this point unless he absolutely has to. His grip in your hair is tight, pulling on your roots a bit and every time he gives you a bit of a tug, you hum quietly so he knows you’re enjoying what he’s doing.

You can’t help the pride that swells up inside of you when his feet start to shuffle next to you, his anxiousness to get his hands on you ever increasing with your movements. He loved the feeling of your warm cheeks and your wet tongue on him, and normally he’d be a moaning mess at this point. You were impressed with his ability to hold back for this long.

It’s getting more difficult for you to sit still, the aching between your thighs impossible to ignore. So you take your hand from his length, sticking it into your shorts and feeling around your folds. You moan quietly at the sensation, relief and pleasure washing through you as you collect as much wetness on your fingers as possible.

You bring your hand back out, wrapping it around him again and spreading your juices up and down his length.

“Oh my god,” he mutters, the words falling from his lips quickly and involuntarily.

“Grayson?”

He apologizes immediately, his voice shaking as his hips shift to be closer to your mouth. You pull your lips from him, going to move and lick his whole length but his grip in your hair prevents you. He forces you to exactly where you were before and you happily oblige.

This time, however, he doesn’t keep you steady. Instead, he pushes you all the way down his length, until your nose is brushing the corse hair on his lower stomach. You breathe through your nose, swallowing around him a few times to fully take him in.

His other hand moves from the edge of the table and you hear him click a few things before he literally pushes the table back in order to finally meet his gaze.

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

You moan in response, noticing the heavy flush of his cheeks.

“Fucking whore for my cock, are you?” He bucks his hips up to hit the back of your throat, making you gag around him. “Shit,” he moans, rolling his head back for a moment as he lets the pleasure truly wash over him. “Make me cum.”

And with that he’s letting go of your head and you start moving up and down immediately. It doesn’t take long for him to fall over the edge, his cum shooting deep into your throat, and you choke around him, swallowing everything he gives you.

He’s breathing heavily when you finally pull off of him, sitting back on your heels while wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. He chuckles breathlessly, shaking his head at you.

“Couldn’t have waited another 20 minutes?”

You pout. “No, missed you all day.”

His face softens a bit as he reaches out for you to stand in between his legs. “Missed you, too, darling. I’m gonna be done soon. Sit over there and wait for me.”

Your eyes widen as you turn to see the meeting still happening, his camera turned off and both his mic and the audio muted. “Gray, you’re missing your meeting!”

He laughs, pushing you to sit back in your chair as he fixes the table. “You’re the one who couldn’t wait until I was done. Plus, it’s my company. They can tell me what I missed if it’s that important.”

You bite your lip, loving the natural dominance laced through his voice whenever he talks about the business. He adjust himself back into his underwear before setting up his computer again.

“Sorry, my girl needed me for something for a second.”

They all tell him he’s fine before continuing on, and all you can think about is how you’re truly gonna get it once the call is finished.

#guys i take too long with these #and dont get to do a bunch bc i spend so long #im sorry were starting thot thursday so late lmao #grayson dolan blurb #grayson dolan smut #dolan twins blurb #dolan twins smut #g.blurb #g.smut

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jooniperhun · 4 years

Text

The End of the Rainbow (2)

pairing: tall!black!reader x bts, poc!reader x bts, woc!reader x bts, black!reader x bts

genre: fluff, strangers to friends to (maybe) lovers, romance, comedy, misunderstandings, (slight) angst, smut (maybe??), idol!au

word count: 3.8k

rating: PG-16

warnings: swearing, mentions of anxiety

notes: slight sub! namjoon in here... sorry, it just wrote itself in lol

summary: Your current job as a travelling housesitter has taken you to many places, some strange and many wonderful. When the acquisition of a new client takes you to Korea for three months, you wonder if your self-esteem can survive being around so many other-worldly looking people. Also, not to be paranoid or anything, but maybeperhaps you’re being stalked by the same seven strangers? They’re pretty loud and always surrounded by a tonne of people, so you write it off the first few times.

But this shit is getting excessive, chile. And annoying…

Rhetorical question, but what lies at the end of a rainbow? You hope that it’s a pot of gold, but with the way that your luck has soured, it might just be seven short(er than you), rowdy leprechauns ready to flip your world sideways…

Chapter 1

She was going on her first social outing in Korea (the source of the K-Dramas that she loved so much that she ended up learning the language), and ___ would make damn sure that she looked her best during it.

Rounding her top lip out by lining over her cupid’s bow then filling the lip in, ___ took her concealer and ensured that her lip-liner wasn’t a crooked mess. That task done, she swabbed a glob of lipgloss across her lips, rubbed them together, then applied her fake moles. The cool mist of setting spray wafted over her face.

___ smiled at herself in the mirror, happy with her appearance and checking to make sure that nothing was in her teeth. Her 18mm minks blinked back at her, lightly brushing the tops of her blushed cheeks. She hadn’t done The Most™ this time, as her revered 25mms were still preserved within their cases, but her face was still Beat For The Gods™.

Her ripped, highwaisted jeans pinched a bit at the fatty flesh that peeked between her belt and the edge of her cropped top, but she had long-since grown used to this sight. In fact, she had even come to love that part of herself. She was jiggly in places, and that was a-okay.

As she still had some time before she had to leave to catch her train, she decided to kill it by locating the window that let the most sunlight in and taking pictures there. It wasn’t golden hour, as it was one in the afternoon, but the lighting was just right, regardless. The contrast between the cool, sophisticated tones of her room and the browns in her clothing and skin made for some immaculate self portraits.

___ had long since learned to become her own photographer, as her height was a bit too tall for any modeling agencies to want to even consider her. Not to mention that her status as a black woman made opportunities just that much harder for her to procure. Yet, even with years of experience, self-modeling was still a bit awkward for her, and that translated in quite a few of the pictures that she had taken.

In the end, after she had ensured that the house keys and her wallet were in her purse and that Mickey had enough food and water to tide his cute little self over while she was gone, many of her pictures had been deleted in between her stepping foot out of the house and her ride to Times Square Mall.

She was so invested in her phone screen on the train that she didn’t even notice the many stares that she gathered. From her large, beautiful afro to the mile-long length of her shapely legs, many native Koreans took in the rich, alluring aura of the black woman for the first time in their lives. The fact that her face was set in it’s usual intimidating expression was the only thing that put them all off of bothering her.

She was going to this mall mainly to see the world’s largest cinema screen, but the arcades and plentiful high-class stores also appealed (respectively) to her childish and bougie sides. Even though ___ knew that she was gonna do a whole lotta window shopping (her expensive tastes and her income didn’t correlate), she was quite ready to blow a lot of cash during her entire 3 month stay here.

Stepping off of the train and into the subway, ___ had never felt as small and alone as she did then, surrounded by all of these people who didn’t look like her. Not for the first time since she’s started the whole ‘cross-country housesitter’ stint, ___ wished that she had a friend with her. Alas, she was currently chasing a bag, and since it comes with all of the free travel and awesome cultural immersion, something had to be compromised. In this case, ___ would just have to try to make friends while she was here, but she’s not really all that hopeful of that outcome, what with her slight social anxiety and all.

Speaking of which, it was currently flaring up as she squinted at the signs, trying to navigate herself through the crush and towards the upper mall. Somehow, she ended up outside and in front of the large, intimidating buildings made of glass. The mall was so big that it had to be split into Gates, like at the airport. Taking note of the gate number that she was entering and hoping that she’d be able to find her way back to the train station from there, ___ stumbled through the spinning doors and immediately went about locating a map.

The noise inside was deafening, as it tended to be in malls. While the majority of the people inside were Korean, foreigners lulled about as well. It made ___ feel a little less alien, though the way that she towered over most of them subtracted a bit from that. Subconsciously, she started sucking her stomach in, which let up a bit on the pressure from her jeans and shifted the gait of her walk into something less relaxed and more confident.

___’s first task was to find where the cinema was, as her movie was scheduled in an hour and a bit and she didn’t want to miss it by looking for it last minute. Luckily, the maps were in abundance and pretty easy to read. She decided to spend her time exploring the place by slowly making her way up the five floors. The first store that she went into had a strange, yet forgettable, name. It was a large department store with many women and children strolling along the walkways. Tables and shelves, almost overflowing with neat stacks of books, formed little islands. Between them, the polished, blank screens of electronic devices shone. The store didn’t really have anything that piqued her interest, so she ended up leaving pretty quickly.

This was the trend for the rest of her leisurely walk around two of the five floors that the mall had. On the third, something finally caught her attention— a small cafe tucked around the corner of the many cosmetic stores on the floor.

Walking in felt like stepping into a cozy, surreal painting. The scent of freshly grounded coffee beans wafted through the air and intertwined with the sweet aroma of baked pastries. Dark wood set in warm-toned cushioning curled around the shop, creating such a warm, homely atmosphere that ___ felt like she had stepped into an entirely different world. Already, several people were seated with cups of their own beverages and plates full of cakes and other desserts. Some were patiently waiting in line, face-masks pulled up and glasses perched on noses. A few people lounged in their respective areas with books in hand. Some were seated at the small dining tables, typing away on their laptops. Others chatted quietly with one another.

Somehow, the hustle and bustle of mall life grew hushed and muted in this small, quiet corner.

The soft crinkling of pages being turned accompanied ___ on her way to the line. Already, she could taste the sweet, milky flavor of her boba contrasting with the sharp coffee of tapioca pearls.

Across the room, dark eyes trailed her figure. Her wardrobe of choice and the rich tones of her skin made her fit seamlessly into the shop. As hard as he tried to pull his eyes away from the stone-faced beauty and back to his book, Namjoon found that he couldn’t. He didn’t know if it was the swing of her hips or the bounce of her voluminous hair that kept drawing his attention, but he knew that he had to kill whatever thoughts he was having, and quickly.

Simply put, Namjoon didn’t have the time to go fraternizing with a virtual stranger. He had seen many beautiful women in his time as an idol travelling the world, and he knew better than anyone how time consuming even a simple one night stand could be. Before he even approached someone, he had to think about how any leaked information could damage the group’s reputation. And then he had to think about preventative measures to make sure anything like that didn’t happen, and actually carry those measures out. Even though most of the legal stuff like NDA’s and other contracts were handled by the company, sasaengs were still everywhere. All it took was one picture of his naked, turned back, and they would be on him and his brothers like a particularly stealthy group of leeches.

Not to mention, Namjoon was not a man with many earthly desires— at least, not anymore. He preferred to spend his time out in nature or in museums, either with or without a book, in search of a higher understanding of himself and of consciousness. Time was very precious to idols as busy as BTS because very rarely did they ever get any outside of the judging lenses of cameras or people. How the other members wanted to spend their free time was up to them, but Namjoon would prefer to spend his either in silence, or with his brothers in silence.

And yet, his gaze continued to stray towards ___ as she moved forward in line. The music sweetly crooning from his airpods didn’t help the matter any farther, either. If anything, it set his own atmosphere to ‘romance’, rather than the initial ‘chill and relaxed’ he was going for.

Now at the front, she visibly towered over the cashier, long limbed and slightly awkward in the way that only tall people could be.

“H-how can I help you today, ma’am?” The dark-haired cashier stuttered, looking up at her warily and carefully avoiding her eyes. While she had served many foreigners in her years working at the mall, blank faced people were always a wild card. Sometimes they were extremely rude. Other times, they were perfectly polite. She could never tell with them, unfortunately, and, with the way ___’s face already punted her into the ‘scary’ category, her not inconsiderable height added to the cashier’s wariness as well.

However, all it took was one smile in greeting to crack her icy demeanor into thousands of tiny, little pieces. The sharp slant of her dark eyes, relaxed into narrowed slits that mirrored aloofness and displeasure, curved into merry arcs framed by lashes that brushed the flush of her cheeks. Her full lips, naturally slightly tilted down and shimmering with gloss, stretched upwards into a sweet smile. The plumpness in her cheeks swelled at their highest points beneath her eyes, transforming her face into something soft and honeyed, like dough.

Suddenly, ___ was too adorable to look away from.

“One bubble tea (originally flavored) and…” here, ___’s eyes swept across the cafe, briefly glancing over Namjoon (who’s table only had a single book, his airpods case, and his phone on it) in search of a snack to eat, “a slice of whatever that guy over there is eating, please.” ___’s voice, at a slightly lower register than usual as a result of disuse, gently filtered into Namjoon’s area. She had pointed in the direction of a nearby table with two young men calmly chatting with each other. Only one had an actual plate with food on it; the other had a single cookie loosely clutched in his hand. A wrapper divided the table between them. The cake in question was multilayered and looked as if each fluffy partition would dissolve satisfyingly on the tongue.

The cashier, with relief, went about her job of ringing ___ up and making sure that the order was received by the barista. ___ held the straps of her purse tightly to stop her hands from shaking too badly, feeling anxious being surrounded by strangers in such a private environment. She moved to where she could pick her order up and waited in the smaller line there, pulling out her phone and pretending to be busy so that people didn’t think that she was a total loser with no friends.

She felt the familiar prickling in her eyes that occurred whenever she felt embarrassed or overwhelmed, absentmindedly scrolling through her photo gallery and mentally trying to will the emotion away. It felt like everyone was watching her, which made her feel very exposed and self-conscious. She had to remind herself, over and over again as she briefly glanced around the vicinity, that everyone else was too caught up in their own lives to be paying her any attention.

Except for Kim Namjoon, who’s identity remained concealed behind his large, dark shades and fitted, dark mask. He considered just leaving the little sanctuary that he had carved out for himself here, as he kept getting distracted with ___ being directly within his line of sight. And, if he was being honest with himself, it was only a matter of time before a fan recognized him (disguise and all, with how often some of them watched him).

Still, Namjoon found himself glued to his seat, watching as ___ received the tray with her order and glanced around to find an unoccupied table. The only vacancies small enough to seat just one person without it looking weird were... in the area that he had secluded himself within.

She took slow, slightly hesitant steps in his direction, carefully keeping her back straight and her hands as steady as she could get them in case her purse slid down from her shoulder and jostled the tray.

Who the hell wears shades indoors? ___ asked herself as she passed Namjoon and settled into a seat behind him. Wait, that’s kinda insensitive. He could be bli— then, she peeped the edges of the whole ass book in his hands and stopped her train of thought. What are the chances that that book is in braille, though?

Not wanting to be offensive, even in her own thoughts, ___ stopped thinking entirely to reorganize herself at the table. She perched her purse in her lap and dug her phone out of it’s confines, rooting around for her airpods while she was at it. If she was gonna be alone in this large ass mall, she was at least gonna be alone in style and rhythm.

Her airpod case had a cute little sunflower pattern on it. She stuck both of her small, stickered airpods into her ears and started her music, pulling her camera app up and snapping a quick picture of her snack before taking her first bite.

Her eyes almost rolled back at the taste.

I just know that if this shop was any closer to the house, my fat ass would be in this bitch every day.

The cake slice was gone with a quickness. If she wasn’t saving her stomach until she got to the food court, ___ would have definitely gone to order another. She pushed the tray with the dishes into the empty space on the table and grabbed her boba. The mellow flavor worked wonders to relax her as she scrolled through her photo gallery, editing the pictures that she had approved of earlier on the train.

Her little bubble of contented solitude wavered when Namjoon shifted into a stretch, popping his tensed joints and rolling his ankles around. He was still trying to recover from her scent’s surprise attack on his nose. When she had walked past him, it was like a bomb of cocoa butter and coconut went off, blending almost sinfully with the rich aroma of coffee and the sweet undercurrent of baked bread.

This guy is giving me major creeper vibes, ___’s thoughts went back to the stranger again after his movement caught her eye. Even when her attention went back to fixing the lighting in one of her photos, some of her focus was still on him.

Of course, there wasn’t a day in Namjoon’s life when he didn’t do something embarrassing as a result of his own clumsiness. Overconfident in the integrity of his chair’s balance while he leaned back and stretched to his fullest extent, he was in for quite the shock when he tipped over with a mighty crash!

His book went soaring through the air behind him, sliding to a stop at ___’s foot.

___, who has just placed one of her airpods on the table as she dug through her purse to better listen out for the jingling of her small makeup bag, jumped in surprise, jostling the table and sending her airpod flying in Namjoon’s direction.

It hit him in the head and knocked his own airpod out of his ear, as well. One rolled to the floor and skittered away. The other got lost somewhere between his face and his clothes. His glasses slid down the bridge of his nose and stopped awkwardly at his top lip, stuck.

The quiet shop went even quieter. People’s heads began turning in their direction.

Namjoon froze, and slowly, his face began to fill with red. A man dressed nondescriptly in black stuck his head in from the cafe entrance, looking for the source of the sudden noise. He began making his way towards his charge once he got a proper grasp on the situation, pulling his walkie-talkie out and silently mummering into it: “All clear, here. Just Kim-ssi being clumsy. Have medics on stand-by, just in case he or anyone else is hurt.”

Before, ___ had only been able to see the broad expanse of his back and his biceps shifting as he flipped to a new page. Now, with half of his face exposed and his eyes staring straight up at her in mortified shock, ___… still couldn’t really say much about his features. He was upside down and still pretty concealed, after all. What patches of skin she could see were quickly turning deeper and deeper shades of vermillion. It was weirdly... cute.

“Um… are you okay, hun?” ___ asked with a pointed, concerned look. Her voice, still low and smooth like velvet, ran subtle waves across Namjoon’s ears. She placed her bag aside and slipped out of her seat, reaching down to grab the book at her feet and walking over to where he was lying prone on the ground.

By the time she had reached him to help him up, his bodyguard had as well. He attempted to block her from going any further as he pulled him up to his feet, but ___ was simply too tall for that to be effective. Namjoon felt himself beginning to curl inwards with all the eyes still on him, but easily suppressed the reflex with his years of 1) being a professional at concealing his emotions, and 2) embarrassing himself on camera.

“Haha, sorry guys. I’m a bit clumsy sometimes.” He bowed to the shop and rubbed the back of his neck apologetically.

“Kim-ssi, are you hurt anywhere?” The bodyguard asked. It took ___ a bit to remember that people were usually addressed by their last names in East Asia, as she had really questioned if the guy in front of her was really named ‘Kim.’

“No, really— that was a pretty loud fall.” She peeked out from above the manager’s head, still holding his book. The only thing on her mind was returning it and retrieving her airpod once he affirmed that he was a-okay.

“Oh— y-yeah, I’m okay. I-I’m used to stuff like this so I can’t really feel it anymore? Sorry about all the noise, haha.” He gave an awkward little laugh (—and probably an awkward little smile, but that remained unseen), shyly rubbing his neck again and making an aborted motion to cover his mouth with his hands before he remembered that it was already covered with a tiny strip of cloth. Inwardly, he cursed himself for stuttering. That was one of the largest tells of nervousness!

___ didn’t really pay his flustered fluttering any mind, however. She slipped around the man standing in front of her and held his book out towards him with a toothy grin. “I felt that. I stub this one toe of mine so often that I don’t even flinch anymore. Anyways, here’s your book.”

Her closer proximity suddenly made Namjoon realize that he had to look up to meet her eyes, and it made his increasingly rattled behavior even worse. To think that he had just begun to calm down, too...

“A-ah, thanks.” Even his fingertips were red as he reached out to accept his book back, but he could luckily just play that off as a slight stinging left over from his date with the floor. “I think something hit me in the head earlier, too, and it knocked my airpod straight out of my ear.”

___’s eyes widened as she subconsciously reached up to touch the ear that still had music lowly puttering into it. “I’m so sorry!” Here, she gave a quick, shallow bow. “I think that was actually my airpod! The sudden noise shocked me so badly that I accidentally knocked it off of my table!” Suddenly, it was her turn to look embarrassed.

Okay, I’m ready to leave. That’s enough embarrassing yourself for one day, girl! She thought to herself, already beginning to scour the floors for her missing appliance.

“This is slightly awkward to ask, but have you seen it since it hit you? It has a little sunflower sticker on—”

When she turned her attention back to him, she found his bodyguard already beginning to usher him in the direction of the exit, uncaring that the tiny little music device that she spent an arm and a leg on was still missing.

“Okay, that’s just fucking rude.” ___ muttered in English, dropping her formal tone and proper pronunciation as she righted the weird guy’s upturned chair and continued her search alone. Luckily, the small dab of white was easily distinguished against the dark, hard-wood flooring of the cafe. She’d have to clean it thoroughly when she got back to the house. For now, she’d have to settle with the unbalanced feeling of having just one in her ear. Slightly irritating, but doable.

Unbeknownst to her, Namjoon’s keen hearing caught her judgemental words and the ignominy almost crushed him. How many times had he embarrassed himself in front of the pretty girl, already??? Too many times to count.

He’d never live it down if the guys got wind of this, but there was no bigger gossip than a Bighit staff member. Sometime within the week, his business would be someone’s morning discussion. He reached up to adjust his dark gray beanie, pulling the edges over his ears to hide the reddening tips.

Tangled in the excess fabric of his high necked shirt, a single airpod with a sunflower sticker hid.

#black!reader x bts #black!reader #tall!black!reader #reader with common sense #bts #poly au #ot7 #ot7 x reader #romance #fluff #idol! au #poc!reader #poc!reader x bts #woc!reader #woc!reader x bts #ambw #namjoon x black!reader #namjoon x reader

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tarithenurse · 4 years

Text

Nightingale - 37

Fandom: Naruto Pairing: Hatake Kakashi &/x Fem!OC Contents: Time lapse, fluff, angst, sweetness, smuttiness/smut, feels, awkward situation. It’s a bit random this time. A/N: As usual, ASK or REBLOG for tag! HUUUGE thanks to all who are reblogging already <3

Ch. 37

A few weeks have passed, and Uguïsu’s bandages have come off – at first leaving the hands raw and red but soon improving and keen to pull Kakashi close whenever there is a chance. It isn’t as often as he would like because the snow doesn’t put a stop to the missions, it merely changes the theme of them a bit as now roads have to be cleared for officials or merchants to get from one place to another. And of course the genin teams available double as guards – even highwaymen are forced to take what they can get as traffic has slowed to a near stop.

A new trend is rising this winter: randomly, spread throughout Konoha, lanterns made of perfectly shaped snowballs appear during wind-still nights, the light from the tea candles shining out between the gaps onto the crisp snow wherever they are placed. Toddlers are quick to pick up on the idea, the lumpy creations less stable than those made by the girls a few years older who carefully insert little sprigs of fir for decoration, making their creations stand out from the original maker’s.

...

Coming back from a mission, Kakashi is surprised to find both apartments empty. Uguïsu hasn’t been cleared for duty yet and despite the increasing number of acquaintances, she’s still a bit of a loner.

His blue nightingale returns in the late afternoon. Wordlessly slipping in through his window (a habit she otherwise had abandoned a few months ago), she curls up next to him on the bed where he’s reading and burrows with the head against his hip.

“What’s wrong?”

An incomprehensible grunt is the only answer. Putting the book aside, Kakashi repositions them so he can wrap his arms around her. She’s tense in his embrace, breath baited as frustration dances under her skin. After knowing her for this long, the white-haired jōnin is smarter than to keep insisting on an explanation – that has never been the way to get her to open up.

“Morino had a task for me,” the woman begins after a while.

Since she passed the exams, they had both known it might happen eventually as it’s a part of the agreement she has accepted to become a shinobi of Konohagakure. Kakashi...well, he had hoped to have been informed first even if he doesn’t have a say in it.

“They found a missing-nin in the snow as well.” The woman shudders at the thought of the season’s first storm. “All I got him to tell was the same as they already had figured out.”

A test. “Hm.” The distant sound of a dog barking can be heard. “That’s not what’s bothering you, is it?”

She shakes her head further away. “No.” There’s a pause in which the walls take on a rosy colour from the evening light. “The man was trying to spy on the genin-teams...wanted an idea of the so-called competition.”

When Uguïsu had prepared for her exams, hoping to become accepted as a shinobi on chunin level, she had been informed that once or twice a year, depending on the number of viable candidates, the hopeful genins would have to pass through three stages of the exam, competing as teams against teams, and later individually

“The exams are also a means for each country to show their strength without inciting conflict, not just a show for potential clients,” Kakashi explains.

There’s a muffled hrumph preceding the reappearance of a cute, disgruntled face. “Mhm. So apparently the exams are held for all nations’ candidates. Together. In one place.”

“Which is why we couldn’t have you partake in the official exams.” He brushes stray locks out of her face, earning a wriggle of her nose as it tickles. “I’m sure you’d beat them all, though, if you could have joined.”

Looking at him, Uguïsu arches an eyebrow. “...are you trying to distract me with a compliment?”

“Depends.” Absolutely. “Is it working?”

There’s mischief in her eyes when she reaches up to pull his mask away and softly trace his lips with a finger. “Worth a try,” she smirks.

Kakashi doesn’t have to think hard before continuing, sometimes earning an eye roll (like when he mentions the way she snores in her sleep if her nose is runny) but mostly coaxing smiles from her. By the time he’s slid further down into the bed, he considers the personal mission accomplished and revels in the sensation of the lazy kisses and her fingers dancing over the skin of his chest underneath his clothes.

If only I could...

During the months together, Uguïsu has grown more comfortable with physical closeness as long as it’s in the shape of cuddling, hand-holding, and other displays that are almost identical to platonic signs of affection. These are, the jōnin presumes, huge steps for her, and because of that he doesn’t dare move too quick even if he yearns to splay a hand over her bare belly or rest it on the thigh when they’re sitting side by side. Just the thought of getting to explore more of the woman sends his mind off in a different direction than intended.

“Hm,” her voice doesn’t quite bring Kakashi back to the present, “there you go again...”

The palm cupping his half-hard cock through the pants does, though, although he’s incapable of thinking coherently for a second or two.

“You don’t ha-” he begins.

“I know...but...can I?” Dark eyes are gazing at him through the lashes. “Please?”

It’s impossible to answer by other means than a nod even after trying to swallow the dryness in his throat away.

The caresses are hesitant, barely palpable through the fabric, and maybe that’s why Kakashi’s body responds rapidly. He lets out a sigh of relief when she pops the button and slides the zipper down to create more space, then a hiss as only the boxer briefs are in between the warm exploration and his skin.

“Wait,” he grinds out, reaching underneath the elastic to reposition the cock flat against his abdomen.

Slipping his hand out, he takes care to cover what he can out of an uncertain worry for Uguïsu’s limits – limits that are being rewritten right now and he’d be damned if he was the cause for any discomfort.

Even with the restraining layer, her hand feels perfect the way the fingers curve to fit his shaft and her thumb massages his sac testingly.

“Hnng,” the white-haired jōnin bites back a moan.

The question in her gaze as she looks up is obvious and answered by a short nod before she continues stroking the length and sending throbbing waves of delight coursing through his body. Kakashi’s mind has short-circuited but he wouldn’t have denied the advances anyways when the woman tugs at the clothes and frees his cock – he can only look in awe at the sight of her ministrations before letting his head fall back, knocking it harshly into the headboard without any of them really noticing.

“Wow,” Uguïsu breathes as his erection bobs of its own accord, powered by the rush.

My thoughts.

“How do -” she stills -”what feels good for you?”

She’s a quick learner and pleased to continue the movements on her own after he has wetted her hand with a slobbering kiss and adjusted the grip by engulfing her hand in his for a couple of strokes. A delighted giggle escapes the blue nightingale’s lips when he groans as she adds a twist when reaching the crown.

Damn. It’s perfect. Admittedly, part of the ecstasy might be fuelled by the (seemingly) endless time since anyone last touched him like this, but Kakashi can’t deny how right it feels that it’s Uguïsu rather than some one else. Lust clouds his mind and he barely has the wherewithal to prevent from thrusting into her fist as his muscles clench and balls tighten and suddenly it all becomes overwhelming just as her thumb spreads the beads of pre-cum over the tip.

“Wait! Sh-ugh!”

Despite scrambling, clasping her hand in his around the cockhead, Kakashi’s too late to stop his orgasm to barrel through his defences and concerns. Seeing white and feeling the tightening throbs, he cums with a deep groan before slumping back onto the bed.

It takes a moment before he manages to release the tight grasp, carefully prying away Uguïsu’s fingers that are coated in stickiness.

“I-I’m s-s-sorry,” her whisper is broken.

No. No don’t. “Please don’t be.” He kneels before her, capturing her gaze. “You did nothing wrong. I should be the one to apologize for -”cutting off, he looks at the mess of their hands -”just...wait a second and I’ll get something to clean it off.”

Somehow, despite wobbly knees, he manages to rush to the bathroom where he washes his hands haphazardly before finding a washcloth and lathering it with soapy water.

Uguïsu is sitting exactly as he’d left her, staring with huge eyes at her hand.

“I’m sorry,” Kakashi whispers as he sets to cleaning the mess away gently, “I should have thought further. Don’t feel bad, please...it’s my fault ‘cause I should’ve known it’d be too good and it was and then -”

“You...” she interrupts meekly, “it was good?”

Huh? “Well...yes, that’s why...”

A shy smile begins to spread across her face, making the jōnin's heart begin to race all over again. “Wow...I did...I made you...”

That’s when it clicks. Bittersweet understanding floods his brain as her words echo for him only. This is her having a glimmer of control over anything sexual...for the first time. And he knows deep down that if ever he gets to stand face to face with Orochimaru then he won’t hold back, he’ll make the monster suffer for all the wrongs committed against this girl.

“Yeah, and I liked it. Okay?”

Uguïsu’s smile is broad and almost swallows her eyes. “Cool. Can I try again?”

Huh?! “If you want to, yeah. But only if you like it ‘cause you should only do these sort of things if it feels right to you.”

Well, he knows that she likes kissing, so he has no complains when their lips crash together and she pushes him back against the pillow. He does have to stop her hand as she begins to caress his semi-limp cock, though, and explain that at least a bit of a recovery period might be necessary for him.

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echo-three-one · 3 years

Text

Chapter 38

THE ROAD SO FAR

The EIGHT-Thirty Appointment

John 'Soap' MacTavish

London, UK

Following the events of Shepherd's surrender to authorities, the members of Task Force 141 who went rogue in pursuit of him had been exonerated from treason. This meant that from then on, life would be a little more 'normal'. No more hiding in public, no more lack of equipment, no more secret hiding areas.

This prompted Laswell to recreate the task force she once poured her heart on, with a few changes to its jurisdiction. With Ghost, Roach and Alexandra still recovering, the remaining members were invited to celebrate their success.

"So John, now that 141 is back your main focus will be Nero. Do you want the reassigned members back?" Laswell asked Price while they exited the building. Soap overheard this because he thought he was the John being called.

"If it's still okay and not much of a hassle, then yes." Price replied.

"What about Kyle?" Laswell added.

"No. Not yet. Just keep an eye on him." Price mused and turned to Soap, who quickly turned to focus back on Alex as he pushed his wheelchair.

"Excuse me, Captain Price. Can we talk for a moment?" Samantha interrupted as they stopped on their tracks. Alex turned out of curiosity, wondering what matter they were discussing.

"Hey hey hey. What was that about?" Alex asked Soap and France, who continued walking. Laswell turned to the next right as she already finished her conversation with Price, waving at Alex and the rest of the 141.

Soap chuckled at the CIA. This was about Samantha's surprise for him and he shouldn't spoil it.

"Well, with 141 back maybe she just wanted to know where she will be now. Nero no longer needs the IP Address and she's been through a lot." France reasoned, making Alex frown.

"You know… I want her safe and all but I also want her within my reach. I've lost her far too many times already. I'm not going to lose her again." Alex grumbled making Soap and France look at each other, their faces were worried at their sorry excuse.

"I think Samantha feels the same way too. Maybe she's bargaining for staying at 141." Soap lied, making France question him quietly.

"You know what, Alex? Don't overthink this." Soap tapped his shoulders reassuringly.

"Overthink what?" Samantha inserted. They fell quiet and Samantha slowly asked Soap to let her push Alex as they moved forward, Samantha being excited of what's next.

"Well, we did a great job. I guess." Soap quietly commented sarcastically, earning a soft elbow from France.

"Ow!" he exaggerated and turned to France, his face looked bewildered.

"Way to go, John." She sneered and followed the two on their way to their appointment, riding Soap's trusty jeep.

The drive to the surprise area consisted of mostly Soap and Francine acting like couples while they drove. Soap could see the two murmuring at each other whenever Soap would argue with France on whatever's going on in the road.

"I always wanted to try out some London restaurants." she mused, looking at the place they just passed by.

"Yeah? I could see you as the fancy kind." he chuckled at his guess.

"What does that mean?" France gave him a suspicious glare. Soap looked at her, feigning surrender.

"I just said it as is. You're the kind of person who would want fancy stuff." He explained, focusing back on the road.

"I-"

"Come on. You don't have to read everything I say between the lines. Sometimes, I'm just a simple man" he whined and Alex and Samantha burst out laughing, causing the two to be quiet.

"Are you sure there's nothing going on with you two?" Samantha asked, making the silence a little bit more awkward.

Soap carefully rolled his eyes toward Francine, who was actually looking down and blushing. He really had no definitive stance on whatever's going on between them, and if you ask him, he'd love to assume that they're already together. But he remembered that he told her that he'll be patient, and that's the only thing that's hindering him from taking her to the next level.

"Well…" Francine croaked, her voice was shaky and Soap was actually worried that she was already under pressure.

"We're here." Soap interrupted, wishing he did the right thing. Alex quickly looked outside to see where they actually were.

"What is this place, Soap? Where did you bring us?" Alex asked and Soap just nodded.

"I'll let your girl fill in everything for you. This was her idea after all and we're here to help her out." Soap replied as he assisted him to his wheelchair and watched the two enter the establishment.

He then knocked on Samantha's door as she was still out of focus.

"There's a coffee shop across the street, we could wait there until they finish." He invited her for another coffee date. Hopefully this time, there would be no more emp phone wielding persons to interrupt it.

"About Samantha's question…" She muttered.

"Don't pressure yourself about it. You actually owe me for saving you, by the way." He chuckled, already opening her door.

France slowly stepped down the vehicle and turned to Soap, her head looked up to his face.

"Look John. There's no other reason I can think of that would make you wait anymore. I really enjoy your company, your personality, and I'm curious about everything else about you. So, if you've been waiting all this time ever since that night, my answer is that I'm ready." She smiled, and John's eyes widened at the sight of her. The message made him hug her tight, lift her up and spin her around briefly while she giggled at the feeling.

"Wow. You don't know how much you made my day, France!" he sighed as he slowly set her down and closed the door and made their way to the coffee shop.

"I missed these so much!" France happily chewed on a slice of blueberry cheesecake, with a few crumbs stuck on the edge of her mouth. Soap smiled as she watched her enjoy the simple things in life, a thing he was always looking for in women.

Most of his dating life were his parents setting him up on business dates and most women there were far too serious. They looked like they haven't enjoyed anything in years. Some of them admittedly loved to have fun, but their idea of fun was far too complicated. Like expensive travels and luxurious shopping sprees, none of them piqued Soap's interest.

However, Francine was the first one who begged to differ. It's like every great idea in John's activity book is enjoyable for her. Simple things such as Netflix, Cinemas and even this coffee shop date, made her smile.

"What's funny?" Francine asked as she noticed the odd smile on his face.

"Oh nothing… you just looked cute eating that whole thing. It makes me want to buy a whole cake and watch you smile and eat that all day." he mused, imagining how things would've been if they weren't in public. He could've been tasting that cake from her mouth already.

He quickly grabbed a tissue and wiped off the crumbs as Francine blushed in embarrassment.

"I'm sorry. I didn't notice it was there." she blushed shyly and looked down.

"Nah… why apologize. I was thinking you were hinting at me to kiss you. Like what most movies and cliché shows would mean." He scoffed and sipped on his coffee.

"Ha ha. Well you could try. As if I'd let you." She smiled bravely, but Soap could see her weakness behind that smile. She's raising her guard up again, and it's always like that when people are around.

"Wow. Umm that went differently." Soap commented, attempting to let France open up. This has been a common trend with her lately, toughening up when people are around but when they're alone, she's still strict but less tense.

"I'm sorry. It's just-" She hesitated and turned to the window.

"Say, how long would it take for them to finish?" She asked. Soap also turned to the building and shrugged.

"I don't know. Honestly, I'm excited for him. They make the best prosthetics around here and it'd make Alex's life easier. It'll look and weigh and bend like an actual leg." he said proudly as he turned to France who was looking at him weirdly.

"What?" he asked as he checked his phone which just beeped.

"Actually, they're almost done. And they're asking for an order. I'll just go get some for them, you stay here." He added, holding the thought, wiping his face and proceeded to the counter.

The reformed Task Force 141 would soon be back in business as papers were already approved by the board. They'll be situating themselves on American soil as their previous base was compromised by the traitorous General.

As for their last day on English soil, the rest of the team stayed in a penthouse condominium unit owned by the MacTavishes.

"Wow. This is top class!" Samantha mused as Alex plopped himself on the couch, his new leg quickly rested on the table. He's been in it for only a few hours but he already got the hang of it.

Samantha shot a glare at Alex's actions to which he shrugged on, prompting Soap to reply.

"Don't worry Samantha, make yourselves at home. We don't use this place anyway so help yourselves out. I promise it'll be fine." he eased as Samantha slowly plopped down beside him as Alex's arm rested on her shoulders. Soap actually wondered if he could do that to her too, get comfortable, open up, just normal stuff.

"I'll go get tea." he quickly said to himself as his imagination got the best of him as he walked to the kitchen. France quickly followed him to help out.

"Fancy place you got here, John. I wonder how many girls you've brought in here." She mused standing in front of him, helping with the teacups. Soap eyed her for a second and replied.

"Honestly, I can't count. I used to stay here when I studied and that was years ago." he replied as seriously as possible, looking at the changes on her face. She's actually jealous.

"Yeah. Figures. I saw your photos from earlier years. It was no doubt you'd have a lot of women over." She chuckled, nervously at it. Soap saw through her as she started to get curious about his life. A sign that she's ready to stop lowering her guard. Soap on the other hand, wanted her to feel special. Asking her out as soon as possible would make him come out as a desperate one, so he planned to do it the long traditional way. Which he actually despised, he would want to hug her so tight right now and it was already killing him.

"What about you? How many different rooms did you wake up to already?" he asked, changing the subject as she was already starting to feel bad about her question.

"Me?! Only a few. And most of them were owned by you. I've been very serious about my life choices that I never let myself loose." she sighed as Soap raised an eyebrow.

"Let loose? Like going out to parties?" He added.

"Yes. But broader. Like letting myself loose. I've always followed the path I wanted to be in, not letting any distractions bother me." she explained, blushing at it like it's a secret she was too shy to tell. Soap on the other hand, didn't quite get it.

"So you mean…" He tilted his head.

"Yes. Since birth, I never had a boyfriend." she looked down in embarrassment for the second time today.

Soap gulped. He didn't actually know how to respond to her statement. Sure he wanted to be the first one, but now wasn't the time. It would feel forced. And he wasn't a fan of forced relationships.

The kettle whistled and the two of them quickly responded to it as they both reached out for it, their hands met just by the handle.

"I'll take care of this one." She said as Soap slowly let go of her soft hands and watched her pour it on, carrying it to Samantha and Alex who were already giggling through a romcom.

"Way to go, John." he muttered to himself with a sigh as he ran his hand on his hair.

The day actually felt worse as France continued to remain quiet towards Soap as she invested herself on the television, third wheeling on Alex and Samantha.

Soap pondered about the words he chose to say to her and those he didn't over a steamy shower.

With the place having only two bedrooms, it was inevitable that France would sleep beside him but he also considered sleeping on the couch to respect her privacy or something like that.

As soon as he exited the bathroom, he saw France already tucked on her side of the bed, scrolling through her phone.

"Hey there." he muttered as she rolled her eyes to him and back to her phone.

"Hey." she said nonchalantly, her eyes dead focused on her screen. Soap quickly grabbed his nighttime clothes and slipped them on.

"Are you in any way excited for tomorrow?" he asked, trying to keep her from interacting with him.

"Yeah. A little." she said as she turned to him and smiled.

"Listen, about earlier today, in the kitchen..." he said.

"I'm not mad, John. I just wanted to say it out there so you could understand me."

"Tell me what you feel."

"Embarrassed."

"Why?"

"Because I looked like a fool earlier. When I told you I was ready and now I feel that you're the one who isn't. You told me you would wait but-" Soap placed his hand on her face, gently touching her cheek.

"France. You don't have to worry. You're still the one I'm thinking about every second. I just… wanted to do this the slow and steady way, where I would show off how worthy I am for you. I want you to enjoy the whole John MacTavish Experience." he smiled and she slowly turned her frown upside down.

Soap wanted to take a picture of that smile and plaster it all around the room as his heart started to pound like crazy, his face unknowingly moving closer to hers. They both started to close their eyes as they let their lips do the talking, but in a quiet and intimate way. Soap felt France's greed for his kiss as she slowly learned how to beg for more of him. It was true that she had no experience on these things but something told him that she's starting to learn some tricks herself.

Soap didn't hesitate to retaliate as she released a soft groan, a sign of her being content as her hands slowly grazed his arms, her thumb softly pressed his biceps, digging deeper as their tongues clashed. After a few more seconds, they both broke their kiss as they gasped for air.

"Yeah. Go sleep on the floor before we do something stupid." She giggled and Soap nodded in agreement as they quickly shuffled about, set their beds and called it a night.

Next Chapter - The SEVEN Inch Wound

Notification Squad my Beloved

@samatedeansbroccoli @smokeywhalee @enderio @bumblingbee1 @ricinbach @whimsywispsblog

#alex echo 3 1 #john soap mactavish #codmw #horrayfic #john price #gary roach sanderson #whateverittakes #simon ghost riley

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grace-lost-in-space · 4 years

Text

Therapy - “What a Dum-Dum”

With anxious hands, I clutch the letter to my professor which my therapist asked me to write last week. I did it. I was brave—or at least that is what people often call me. The dictionary defines B-R-A-V-E as: ready to face and endure danger or pain; showing courage. Courage? There is that word again, creeping up from the pits of my stomach into the back of my throat. I can almost say it, but not quite. My entire life has been spent preparing to endure danger or pain—it is what I do best. I am best defined by that very sentence. Perhaps my mom should have been more creative in naming me.

I take a deep breath before using all of my energy to open the door to the lobby of my therapist’s office. Doing so forces my body to immediately retaliate with a loud wheeze. When people tell me to “take a deep breath”, they often forget that I have asthma and a dangerously low BMI, so this so-called simple therapeutic technique wreaks havoc on my body but, like the rule-follower that I am, I do it anyway. The door lets out a loud squeal as I concentrate all of my weight on pulling it open. A kind of foreshadowing, perhaps, of what is about to take place.

“Hi, Grace. I’ll let Legs know you’re here.” I hear from behind the reception desk. Ms. Rita recites the exact same line every Monday and Wednesday. I smile—although, I have no idea if it is visible through my mask. I respond by waving politely because I have not truly spoken in 11 months. Through the dizziness which insists on accompanying me to each and every appointment, I make my way to my usual chair and I sit. I begin counting soon after and I get to 137 before my therapist arrives in the entryway and says “Grace.” After one year together, I still only know her by her shoes and her voice. As I stand unsteadily, I wonder about this trend with social workers wearing riding boots. Is this an unwritten rule of their ethical code? Is there some sort of advertisement during NASW conferences? “Invest in THESE fine leather boots and you won’t BELIEVE how much progress YOUR clients will make! Order now for $10 off. You may qualify for an additional discount if you have feathered hair. Offer not available in Alaska and Hawaii.” I make a mental note that I must research this more and find an answer because it is a common theme of every social worker who has walked into and out of my life. Cue “these boots are made for walkin’…” lyrics. I stop myself before it gets too cheesy.

I walk slowly behind her and after what feels like an hour, I make my way into her dimly lit office and find solace in my usual black leather chair. Although it squeaks, it has been faithful for the past twelve months and it has seen me through many meltdowns, remaining sturdy as I hide behind it. Like clockwork, it squeaks as I sit down and I decide to give it grace since, after all, it has been the most consistent thing in my life for the past year. My feeding tube pump begins to beep, signaling a low battery, so I take out my charger and begrudgingly plug myself into the nearest outlet. “So, Grace,” she starts “how are you? Did you write the letter to Dr. W?” I respond by shoving the now crinkled papers into her lap, happy to rid myself of the trauma that haunts the wide-ruled pages.

Legs and I sit in silence (see what I did there?) as she reads the letter which took me three days to write. I look to my right, at the dusty mahogany brown bookshelf which is adorned with a mixture of exactly 42 stuffed animals, toys, and action figures—my doing, of course. There was a day where an exhausted Legs decided it would be best for me to organize the shelves rather than doing any sort of processing—so I did just that and, in doing so, ruined a perfectly good pair of fishnet tights. But, I digress.

After what feels like a less than sufficient amount of time to read this trauma-filled nightmare of a letter, she hands it back to me and says “Okay. Here you go. You can do whatever you want with it.” I look at her god-awful work boots as if I am looking into her eyes and I express obvious confusion. In true selective mutism fashion, I remain silent but my facial expression speaks volumes. I hastily shove the letter back at her and write on my note pad “you keep it.” I wait. What am I waiting for? That is a great question and one which Legs is also clearly eager to know the answer to. “So, how is pumping going?” She asks. Again, I glare at the hideous riding boots, wholly confused. Did I just spend three days writing this letter and disclosing mounds of trauma for her to read it and hand it back to me with no intention of processing it? Yes. Yes, I did.

I look back to the bookshelf and re-count each and every item which remains beautifully organized if I do say so myself. I follow the rules again and force a deep breath before writing “Why did he do it? Why did he pick me? Why did he do this to me?” Almost immediately, she shoots back with “because it made him happy. He liked it.” I decide instantly that another deep breath is necessary and I question my insanity because surely no therapist would say what she just said to me. I remain still—a defense mechanism which I have learned is often useless. Continued silence looms over both of us like the beginning of a funnel cloud—eerily still but preparing to invoke chaos—until she asks “Why do you read Harry Potter books and watch the movies?” More silence. I begin to question how those boots do not yet have holes in them from my hazel laser pointers. She finally answers her own question, as my pen remains frozen in my hand. “Because you like it. It makes you happy.”

My mouth gapes open which, thankfully, is hidden behind my Peppa Pig mask. I glance over to my right at the wall from which my feeding tube pump is getting its power. I realize that in order to run, I will first have to unplug myself which would surely be anticlimactic if I were to be so unlucky as to tangle the cord or trip over it. Unplugging yourself from the wall and leaving a therapy session seems simple enough but when you are accident prone and have a history of falling into bushes and rolling down hills, you learn to be cautious and question everything. I look around the room. No bushes. No hills. Only me and Legs and those atrocious riding boots. I stare down at my platform converse shoes. I wonder to myself why I choose to wear these shoes each week. These shoes are not optimal for running and I am a runner, or at least I am categorized as such in dusty medical charts which exist somewhere in what I imagine to be a damp basement of a two-star hospital. I make a mental note to never wear platform shoes to therapy again.

As I continue with my silent existential crisis, Legs takes an early exit ramp and asks about the sucker from our last session—the one she handed me on my way out the door during my last session. “Did you practice eating the sucker?” She asks. I nod and smile, with tears beginning to form in my eyes. When I cry, my eyes turn from hazel to green. It is an easy task to recognize when I have been crying. I wonder if Legs has noticed this. She turns slightly to her right and reaches into her candy dish which sits on another dusty brown table. She grabs a pineapple flavored sucker and holds it up in front of my face. “Here” she insists. Pineapple? Are there creatures that enjoy pineapple flavored Dum-Dums? And, furthermore, why are they called Dum-Dums? Who chose that name? Who thought, “Aha! We shall call these…Dum-Dums”? Again, I digress.

“You don’t want to be weird, right? You told me you don’t want to be called weird. It would be normal to eat a sucker. Normal people eat suckers.” Enticed by the idea of being called “normal,” (a rare occurrence in my world), I oblige. After 27 seconds, I manage to unwrap the sucker and put it against my lips. “Just eat it.” She says. Once again, I glare at The Boots. I manage to put the sucker—in all its sugary, pineapple glory—in my mouth and leave it there for exactly three seconds before the sensation becomes too much to handle. I smile as a steady stream of warm tears flows down my cheeks. I consider this progress, since it is the longest I have ever been able to keep a sucker in my mouth. My smile grows wider as I recognize this small victory and I feel truly proud of myself.

“Eh…that was…okay…I guess. But it wasn’t a good job. You could just eat it but you won’t. When you eat the whole thing, that will be a good job.” She says. I immediately break into a full fledged sob and I wonder just how green my eyes must be at this point. I sob, and I sob, and I sob. It feels as though the tears are endless. My Peppa mask is now heavy from absorbing tears and snot. This must be attractive.

And, at that moment, I manage to stutter over a word. “L_____.” If you are new to this circus, L is my previous therapist and a fellow boot-wearing social worker. “What?” Legs asks, obviously confused.

My sobs grow louder. My brain wants to tell her that she is acting like L but my mouth refuses to function properly. I manage a hurried glance at my pump charger and I consider making a now-or-never break for it. I somehow sputter three words like a lemon on a used car lot. “Please…be…nice.” I say. It takes exactly 14.5 seconds for me to vocalize these three words but, again, it is progress.

“I can’t understand what you’re saying but you are doing a good job with your words” Legs promises.

Still sobbing, I try again. “L______.” I stutter on the L but it comes out clearly.

“What?” She asks.

“Mean” I say, choking back tears.

“Did you say mean?” She asks.

I nod for “yes.”

“Well, I’ve got another patient, so I guess—“ she starts.

I interrupt her by yanking my pump charger out of the wall. I do so without proper planning and I let out a loud cry. I am not typically a loud crier. I am quite proficient in the art of “quiet tears.” Enduring many, many nights of various people hurting me has taught me to improve upon this skill. I try my very best to stop drowning in my own tears. I can feel it happening the same way it happened with L.

And I run. And I run. And I run.

Because I AM good at something: running.

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bumbershots · 4 years

Text

A CERTAIN ROMANCE

CHAPTER TWO: MONDAY THROUGH FRIDAY

Author’s note: Hello! Thanks a lot to everyone for reading this, I’m over the moon with the messages you sent after posting the first chapter. Keep them coming, and enjoy! ~ Alex

Story Masterlist ** Word count 2.3K **

If she was prettier and a bit smarter. If she were special, like the Instagram models that Teen Vogue features in their cover nowadays. She would have the guts to take three steps towards him and ask if he is who she thinks he is.

Harry is standing once again across from her, and she doesn't even know that he is wearing his beloved woolly jumper that has a picture of the planet Saturn on it, just for her. The girl wonders if they've heard of Styles on that planet, too. Of course they have, she scolds herself looking away from him at last, not believing her luck. For the third time on a Thursday, at half past three, he's jumping in the train right after her. The first time could've been luck, second one was a lovely coincidence but a third time? It's a charm. That's what her grandma would say.

But she isn't brave enough to walk up to him, not because of who he is, but the pressure and build up around the entire situation. What if he's a dickhead? She frowns at the thought, knowing it can't be true, not when his eyes, the so-called windows of the soul, are that nice.

They're both in a corner of the train this time, conversations start to sputter around as people try to keep their own talk ticking along on autopilot. He seems to be busy, reading Keith Richards' autobiography, she wants to talk to him about it, it's been a while since she read it though she still remembers it clear as day. The next one is his stop, she sighs in defeat at her own cowardly nature and takes out her mobile only to look busy.

Harry wants to talk to her, this is the third Thursday in a row, he's afraid there won't be a fourth one. He's back from his last meeting with Jack and Fernando, everything is set to start the renovation. He won't be taking this route anymore, it's now or never. But it's harder than he thought, to approach her and that's it, he doesn't know what he's supposed to do once he stands before her.

The speaker announces his stop, but instead of leaning away from the wall and walking out of the train, he flips the page of his book, letting the doors close and stays on the carriage for the next station. He is so nervous, a bit scared of his bold choice to stay on the line without a well defined plan. He's never been this nervous about talking to someone, the butterflies on his tummy at the mere sight of her are restless. Maybe if he scoots closer, little by little, he can nudge her side and mouth her a polite "hello," a warm smile afterwards so she doesn't think it's a come on. Except it is.

Harry closes his book, deciding that it's stupid and honesty is the best way to anything. He will just greet her and ask if he can buy her a cup of coffee someday, easy, breezy like Jack says. His green eyes follow her out of the train, they just reach Colindale station, before he can process what is going on or even move, the doors close and the vehicle is moving back to the tunnel. Away from her and his last chance. His mouth is dry and it's like he stuffed it to the brim with cotton.

He got off on Burnt Oak and switched direction, he was so mad at himself, the deep frown on his face said it all. This was supposed to be his chick flick moment and he ruined it by not doing anything at all. He keeps his face glued to the door closest to him, waiting for her to come up and smile at him in that knowing way. Perhaps then he would stand tall, mention that cup of coffee after introductions are made and she will agree. But she doesn't come back on the next station, or the three following ones. Harry gets off the train with a cloud looming above him, the wind is blowing in that nasty way that announces a storm following suit. The singer hurries to his home, trying to beat it.

The rain comes out of nowhere in full force just as Harry walks through his front gate, dashing to the inside of his house. He decides to fix himself a light lunch to keep his mind from wondering if she made it to her destination before the rain caught up with her. A text message from Jack does the trick, he sent him the address for Freddie's birthday. Harry can't believe that's tonight.

"Hello stranger," Gemma's voice greets the musician after the second ring. "All right?"

"All right, just forgot about plans I had for the evening," he hated to cancel dinner with his sister, "come with me?" Harry's tone is hopeful, she can almost picture his adorable cherub face, eyes sparkling.

"Is it with your teenage friends?" He hums trying to come up with a lie, "Harry we can have our dinner tomorrow night instead, I don't mind." As much as she loves her brother, that doesn't extend to that certain group of acquaintances.

"They're not that bad!"

"Baby brother, have fun with the lads, I'll see you tomorrow, pick me up at eight o'clock." She states before ending the call. Harry huffs before finishing his veggie wrap and jumps in the shower.

Perhaps he should've told Gemma that his mood tonight wasn't the best, that although he wanted to go out and about, he didn't want to do it alone. But her reasons to avoid his less mature group of mates are valid so he grabs his parka and his phone and, a little stooped, heads for the flat where the party is held.

A few years ago, he set himself three tasks: prioritise friends, learn how to be an adult, achieve a proper balance between the big and the small. Harry genuinely loves the fittings of his outfits before tour, playing his music for thousands. But he realised, as well, that the coolest things are not always the cool things. Tonight he's hearing anecdotes of how his friends sold almost everything they owned, to be able to afford a trip to the World Cup in Russia the year before. He knows that England almost made it to the final, but to see the agony and pain reflected on Freddie's eyes as he tells the story is truly humbling and heartbreaking.

"They had to escort me out, an hour after the match ended." The birthday lad finishes with glossy eyes. "I've never felt so powerless in my life, the world just seemed so unfair from then on, you know?" Harry doesn't, but he nods and finishes his drink. "But enough about good old me, what about you?"

"Same old, touring for a while, back in British soil before I take off again." He doesn't like giving rehearsed answers to his friends, but they're surrounded by at least a dozen people carrying out their own conversations while straining to hear what Styles says.

"Thinking about the next album already?" His friend's amazement is genuine, "can't believe what you'll hit me with next!" Freddie was his rocker friend. The one with an expensive vinyl collection, the one to never miss a Rolling Stones show, the one that religiously attended Glastonbury every year. Remembering this, Harry relaxed and decided to share with him a topic that left him vulnerable.

"You can expect a lot of break up songs that's for sure," he tries to joke but Freddie's smile falters a bit.

"How long has it been?"

"It'll be a year next month." He can't believe it still feels so recent and not at the same time. "I'm getting used to it." Freddie sighs and nods in understanding.

"I'm sorry you have to go through a shit thing like that, you're one of the good ones H," the green eyed musician is blushing, waving his hand at his companion in an attempt to dismiss his words. "It's the truth I mean... look around us, Jack has been on and off with Alexis for years," the two men observe the couple they're discussing, nothing seems wrong with them but Freddie's words are true, Jack has a habit of calling it quits with the redhead once she brings up marriage. "Kiera and Mosas cheat on each other all the time, we're not even sure if they're still together at this point... last but not least you have Alf, Christophe, Ruben and myself, four emotionally unavailable men who can't commit because they can't get their shit together." Silence takes over the two friends, it's deafening even though the background music can be heard loud and clear.

"I made some shitty decisions too, that's what drove her away," Harry wants to continue, the tequila shots seemed to have loosened his tongue.

"No, no, no you listen to me," Freddie's hands hold his younger friend's face carefully. "I know you're not a dishonest scummy man, you're allowed to make mistakes in a relationship and learn from them... don't be like Alf," he lets Harry's face go and nods towards the tallest guy in the room, "he had a brief relationship with a Portuguese girl, charmed her socks off and when she planned to move here guess what he did?"

"What?" Harry knew the answer, but he wanted to give his friend the benefit of the doubt.

"He cuts her off! Ghosting is what they call it nowadays. Just like that... and you think he learned, except that he doesn't!" His friend is now sounding too frustrated. "I saw him do the same thing to Al, perhaps it was a bit different she already lived here but she wanted more and just—" he can't finish his thought and Harry feels for his friend. "We all do that, it's a trend."

"Must be something in the water." The curly one tries to joke and he earns a soft smile from the birthday guy, along with a heartwarming hug. "You can always ring me Freddie, to chat and if I'm home see each other." Harry knows this is something new in their friendship, but he feels it necessary, after so many years of knowing each other. He can tell that Freddie is trying to find his way into adulthood, something that Harry had to experience at a much younger age due to his career.

"Thanks mate, I would really like that." Harry is about to ask Freddie about his family's well-being when a figure entering the room caught his eye, she was wearing the burgundy coat like that first Thursday he was lucky enough to lay eyes on her, high-waisted trousers. The newsboy cap was missing though, but he was glad because it gave her curly hair the freedom it lacked before.

Of all the places where he thought they might meet again, his friend's birthday party was certainly not on the list. She was here, greeting Jack and the others, pulling her sleeve to show how uncomfortable she was at making small talk with Alexis and Keira. She has to crane her neck up a bit when talking to, well pretty much anyone in the room.

This is the miracle he's been waiting for, he thinks just as the song changes to The Beach Boys' and a small smirk threatens to expand on Harry's lips, he does want to ask her if she wants to dance like the sixties tune suggested.

"Harry it's nice to see you again!" Fernando stands in the way blocking the view between the musician and the tube girl. He cringes a bit at the nickname and makes a mental note to learn her name, the sooner the better.

"Fer, I have missed you since we last saw each other earlier today," the architect laughs and so does Freddie. "Would you like a beer?" Forever polite Harry asks.

"No, I'm driving tonight but I'll fetch one for my sister," he says stepping around the bar where Harry and Freddie have been leaning against for the past hour, "I'm starving though, do you mind if I order something Fred?"

"I have some pizza in the fridge man, help yourself." Fernando thanks him before nodding to the person standing behind Harry.

"This beer alright?" Harry turns around just in time to meet a pair of chocolate eyes staring at the guy behind the bar and nod in acceptance. "You already know Freddie and this is Harry," the curly guy is speechless, now up close she seems prettier than before and real. "Harry this is my sister Alma." She smiles in a sweet way that makes the pop star wonder if he's about to go into cardiac arrest.

"I saw you in the tube, Hampstead station guy!" Her voice was nothing like he had imagined, it was raspy and a hint of an accent he couldn't quite put his finger on was swimming through her words.

"That's me..." he admitted, the pink blush from his cheekbones migrating to his ears. Alma thought he looked adorable.

"Do you wanna dance?" She asked after a big gulp of her beer. All star by Smash Mouth just started playing, that was definitely not what Harry wanted to dance with her. Not that he had a secret plan to woo her with his moves, he wasn't the best dancer.

But he took her hand and let her lead the way to the unofficial dance floor, that on a regular day was the dining room. Oblivious to all the eyes focusing on them, Harry allowed himself to enjoy the unexpected turn of events, he had already wasted precious time not talking to this marvellous woman. Like Freddie said, he had to learn from his mistakes, instead of repeating them.

///

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///

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#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles oc #harry styles series #harry fic #harry styles imagine #harry styles ou #harry styles fan fic

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cordria · 4 years

Text

End of the Year Roundup

Saw this post that was full of questions about the year. Thought I’d answer some of them. I was going to just write stuff about how my year went, but ended up staring blankly at the screen and doing nothing. Also, all I could think of was negative stuff, which isn’t the best way to handle a year-end roundup.

Click ‘read more’ if you’d like to read my thoughts.

1. what did you learn about yourself this year?

I’m actually not hating teaching online as much as I thought I would. It’s incredibly stressful - but mostly because I’m teaching kids that don’t want to be online students and don’t even attempt to do the stuff, and so I’m moving like snails through the content and I’m bored out of my mind, and I can’t do most of the stuff I want to do because a large percentage of the kids won’t get anything out of it. If I only had kids that were motivated to learn through an online platform? Could be interesting. I’m contemplating that (perhaps) being my next job. I’m already pretty set on this current job drawing to a close at the end of the school year.

2. best moment of the year?

When my four-year-old stumbled up the stairs, crying, telling me she needed to be tested.

“For what?”

“The Covid,” she said, sobbing and trying to crawl into my arms.

“Why?”

“My foot hurts.” She showed me her foot. (no noticeable injuries)

“Why?”

“I stepped on a Lego.”

Cue laughter.

3. worst moment of the year?

It’s too hard to pick. I’d pick one of my panic attacks, I’m sure, but I can’t decide which was the worst.

4. what was the biggest change you experienced this year?

My whole world is tipped upside down. We don’t see anyone. We don’t do much fun right now. My husband is a stay-at-home dad so the kids don’t have to go to daycare. I’m teaching unresponsive icons on a screen.

... What hasn’t changed this year?

(Skip a few)

7. what’s one thing that happened this year that you want to change?

I stopped writing. Like, completely.

I got soooo far down the bad mental health rabbit hole that I stopped writing.

I want to write again. Right now I’m still in a bad place, and so writing is a chore. But I know if I can get going again, it’ll get better.

(Skip a few)

11. what made you cry the most this year?

I need to cry more. My emotions are sorta broken right now and I don’t cry anymore.

12. biggest regret of the year?

I don’t want to call it a ‘regret’. There’s lots I wish I’d done differently, lots I wish I’d accomplished and gotten done and succeeded at. But that’s with hindsight. I don’t want to call it a regret and beat myself up over the things I didn’t do.

I just want to walk forwards and try again.

(Skip a few - I certainly didn’t go anywhere this year)

18. what surprised you the most this year?

Everything my one-year-old has done this year. He’s so very different from how much daughter grew, and it’s fascinating to watch.

19. do you look different from the beginning of the year?

lmao. I was just post-pregnancy and still on maternity leave at the beginning of the year. Yes. I look different. I also desperately need a haircut.

20. how did this year treat you in general?

I want to say, “Not the best, most wonderful year I’ve had”, but, honestly, it’s more the last part of the year is coloring over the rest.

Winter (January - March 14th): Stressful, as winter always is, getting students to be engaged when I’m just coming back from leave and have a young infant at home, and everybody is full of cabin fever. But it’s just a normal-ish amount of stress, and I got to snuggle a baby every day.

Spring (March 14th - May): A very odd way of living, with asynchronous teaching. But I honestly found it enjoyable and slightly boring. I got to work in my garden and play with my kids (like an extended, paid-for maternity leave, since daycare closed), and I could mitigate how much staring at the computer I did at any given time, and I could go for walks.

Summer (June - August): Got lots of writing and drawing done. Worked in my garden a lot. Taught my daughter how to ride a bike and roller skate. Went on lots of walks while baby napped in the stroller. Lots of art projects with kids.

Fall (September - December): Hell came knocking and never left.

21. what message would you give yourself at the beginning of the year?

With 2021 vision, I’d tell myself to enjoy the first part of the year when you could, and try not to take things that happen in September and October quite so personally. And take more days off. Why did I not take more days off???

22. has your fashion style changed this year?

I have one very (old) comfy pair of jeans I’ve worn just about every day. Nobody sees me from the waist down anyways. They’re full of holes and I’d never get away with wearing them normally. But they’re as comfy as pajama pants and you can pry them out of my cold dead hands. I also get to wear sandals at work every day. :)

23. one of the best meals you’ve had this year?

Hubby got us an immersion cooker for Christmas. We splurged on fresh shrimp last night, and honestly? I like the immersion cooker. Yum.

24. who has made the biggest impact in your life this year?

My kids. For sure.

If this had happened without kids in my life, I’d’ve spent the last four months being suicidal. I’m not sure I’d’ve made it to this point, honestly.

I’m not sure why the thought never crossed my mind - I’ve been suicidal under much, much less stress - but I’m blaming my kids for it. Deep down in the lizard part of my brain, I can’t even contemplating leaving two young kids like that, and so it just wasn’t an option that came up in my mind.

25. what’s one thing that you hope will continue next year?

I’m going to take this as resolutions. What do you have going that you want to continue?

- I’m on day two of a sugar-free ‘cleanse’. I hate calling it a cleanse, because people put thoughts on that word, but it’s really just me focusing on eating nothing but healthy food for two weeks - no candy or treats. I ate too much sugary treats over the holidays, and I’m feeling it. I want to continue to eat healthy next year.

- I’ve been writing the last week or so. You’ve seen some of the results here. I’ve thought about writing. I’m picking at something that I’m going to submit to an anthology. I want to continue writing (and drawing) next year.

- Writing will require working on my mental health. I’m on a good trend, but that is because I haven’t worked in about two weeks. I need to come up with a realistic healthy way of life when school starts again. I’m not sure what that will be, but I have until Monday to come up with some sort of plan to try. I want to spend at least an hour each day focusing on mentally-healthy tasks. (exercise, meditation, yoga, self-care, etc)

These are pretty bland, open goals. I’ll need to work on setting some more specific tasks - otherwise I’ll never do them - but it’s a start.

I desperately want 2021 to go better than the last bit of 2020 went.

Peace! :)

#New years resolutions #Good-bye 2020.#May you rot and burn in Hell #I'm so glad time travel hasn't been invented so I don't ever have to experience that again.

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joonsdiary · 4 years

Text

the ceo’s keeper

↳ part three of the: (not) the love of my life series

pairing: seokjin x reader (female) genre: arranged marriage au // humour with a dash of fluff and sprinkle of angst word count: 5,8k

chapter summary: visiting seokjin in his Tower of Terror™ reveals he carries a lot more baggage than you intend to claim.

warning. alcohol consumption, a few curse words here and there; nothing worth putting the mature tag but i’d still advice to proceed with caution.

note. putting it out there since i don’t think i’ve mentioned it before, but this fic was initially inspired by yuna’s (not) the love of my life. just putting it out there as a song rec in case you’ve not heard it yet!

the proposal | the first date | the ceo’s keeper | the engagement

“Guess who’s in the front cover of Daily Gossip and is trending number one in the search engines?” Taehyung barged into Seokjin's office early Monday morning a few seconds after Mina phoned his arrival. His brother plopped himself in the plush leather chair across his office table, lifting one leg to rest it on top of the other.

Seokjin didn’t have to guess as he often donned the front cover of plenty of tabloids. But not because of anything work-related, which he never really understood. Were his date nights that interesting to many people? Must be, if they were constantly writing about it. He then remembered your quip a few days ago regarding his ‘date’ with the president’s daughter but was quickly reminded that a certain Yoongi had told you about it. The corner of his lips curled downwards.

“Aren’t I always on the front cover?” he doesn’t even bother to look up as he spoke while continuing to type endlessly on his keyboard. If there was one thing he hated about his job, it would have to be coordinating e-mails. He would usually allocate the task to Mina, but certain emails that contain sensitive information would have to be drafted by him.

“Yes, but, hear this—” Taehyung cleared his throat for effect and shifted in his seat, holding his phone in front of him theatrically, “Seoul’s most eligible bachelor’s newest FLING is somebody you won’t expect!”

“As I said, it’s nothing new,” he deadpanned.

Taehyung chastised him with a shush before continuing.

“Kim Seokjin’s date du jour – I’m pretty sure they used the word in the wrong context here – is the twenty-four-year-old hotelier – wait, she’s that young?”

“I can’t interrupt you, but you keep stopping yourself for your little commentaries,” Seokjin grumbled as he hit the send button, only partially listening to Taehyung. “And she’s practically the same age as you.”

“Yes, but an owner, albeit previously, of a hotel? That’s pretty impressive.”

Seokjin rolled his eyes at Taehyung’s remark, but one of the reasons why he’d agree to this whole masquerade in the first place is due to your reputation. You were a woman of class and grace in spite of your moderate — for a lack of a better term — upbringing. As far as he was concerned, you were respected among the elites; the perfect remedy to clear his name of his tarnished credibility, which he blames solely on the tabloids. Whoever he chooses to go on a date with, no matter how frequently the person changed every week, was no one’s business but his.

Yet the camera lenses never strayed too far from him wherever he went. It was tedious and stupid because he wasn’t some celebrity who craved attention. Yet he had to make peace with the fact because the board of directors was all about reputation instead of the actual work that Seokjin put into elevating the company.

“Anyway, back to the gossip,” Taehyung scrolled down further on his screen, “blah, blah – oh! We have a feeling she’s special because unlike his other dates, he brought her to his upscale restaurant, Chateau – You had dinner at Mom’s restaurant? That is certainly news.”

The fact that Taehyung still referred to it as ‘Mom’s restaurant’ brought warmth in Seokjin’s chest.

“It was a last-minute decision. She said she went on a date at the place you suggested the night before.”

“That is also news,” Taehyung said, teasing. “Do tell me the details, dear brother.”

“Apparently it was a move to get under her parent’s skin. It was shortly before she knew of my proposal, obviously. Nothing much to spill.”

“Mhm,” the smirk lingered on Taehyung’s lips, but he pressed on with the article. He quietly read with his eyes for a while before blurting out an expletive, which caused Seokjin to look up momentarily from his screen.

“What?”

Taehyung sighed as he squinted at his brother, reciting the text verbatim. “But their rendezvous, however, ended early with them parting ways; he headed straight to Kim Hotel after dropping her off. Does this mean the night didn’t go as they’d planned? Will she be another date-and-dash for our handsome CEO-to-be?”

“Date-and-dash,” Seokjin scoffed before laughing in disbelief. “That might be the best term they’ve come up with so far.”

“Yeah, well, we don’t want everybody to think this is another date-and-dash for you.”

“I’m only worried about Dad’s opinion. Everybody else can think whatever they want.”

“They can still hire an outsider as CEO.”

“Dad wouldn’t let them do that.”

“There’s only so much power he can hold. That’s what the board of directors is for.”

He paused, letting Taehyung’s words simmer. His brother never bothered much for the corporate side of the business, opting to delve more into his artistic side. He was responsible for much of the interior design of any and every Kim Hotel they decided to build, but that’s about it as far as his contribution went. If Taehyung was content and satisfied with whatever he chose, then so was Seokjin.

“You’re right,” Seokjin’s lips pursed, hating the admission.

“Aren’t I always?” Taehyung snorts before sighing and putting his phone away. “You’re going to have to put a little bit more pep in your step, as the saying goes, if you want to make this look more sincere than it actually is.”

Seokjin contemplated the implication of the word sincere. He thought he had been as truthful as possible in his interaction with you two nights prior. His conversation with you ebbed seamlessly, save for the second half of the night where you discussed business. It had been the sincerest interaction he had with a woman whom he didn’t have to bed that same night as he normally would. The farthest he’d gone with you so far was a chaste kiss on the forehead, which he deemed you were uncomfortable with.

“Should I make out with her on our next date, then?” Seokjin quipped. He didn’t mean it seriously, but the delighted look in his brother’s face told him they weren’t on the same page. “I was kidding, V.”

He threw the nickname out with an ill-intention, knowing how much Taehyung resented it. His brother sighed, slumping on the chair and mussing his curly locks. It baffled Seokjin how one could grow their hair out past their eyebrows, but it seemed to suit Taehyung, nonetheless, fitting with the artistic look he was trying to accomplish.

“It’s something to talk to her about. If she’s comfortable with it, then why the hell not?” Taehyung shrugged, tugging at his turtleneck.

Would you even be open to the idea? Hell, you’re bound to get married in less than three weeks, but he hadn’t entertained the thought. All the women he’s dated so far knew what to expect of him, and vice versa: sex after dinner. That was the mantra.

“I don’t know, Taehyung…” he trailed off.

It’s not that he thought of you as a prude, but his arrangement with you had strictly been business, and Seokjin was the type not to mix the two. He never pried with anything past surface level with the women he had relationships with; he never stayed long enough to know. Or he wasn’t interested enough to stay and get past the tip of the iceberg.

He no longer wanted to entertain the idea of forever with somebody, and longevity isn’t something he’s interested in. Been there, done that. Not exactly his cup of tea — he’d learned the hard way. Best he moved along.

“Fine, but mild contact is still on the table. You didn’t even hold her hand, according to the article.”

“I did,” Seokjin said defensively. Truthfully, he wasn’t sure, and that was a problem in and of itself.

“Tell her, Jin.”

“I will if it gets you off my back. Now kindly screw off,” he grinned at his inside joke before continuing. “I have a meeting with a contractor in five minutes.”

“Ouch, since when do you use such harsh words, dear brother?” Taehyung whined, clasping the front of this sweater with his hand. He straightened up, nonetheless, slipping his phone in the pocket of his black slacks. “Jeju?”

Seokjin nodded, opening another email that needed a return message.

“Shouldn’t Namjoon be here for that?”

“I already called him this morning. He’s still having way too much fun in Switzerland, but he’ll be back by the end of the week.”

“Taeri’s probably mad that you’re pulling her husband away from her so early after their wedding.” Taehyung laughed as he shook his head, but Seokjin only grinned.

“It’s been two months. He has to come back. This operation doesn’t run itself; I’ll have you know.”

Taehyung dismissed him with a passive, “Yeah, yeah.”

There’s a pause, and Seokjin furrowed his brows at his brother’s sudden teasing expression.

“But I still can’t believe he got married before you.” Taehyung pointed an accusing finger at him, and Seokjin laughed.

“I can’t believe it either. He’s certainly way worse than I am.”

“But better at break-ups than you are. You just leave them hanging,” Taehyung squinted his eyes with indignation. Seokjin gives his brother a tight-lipped smile.

“Not entirely true. I technically don’t do the whole dating thing officially. What’s more, I give them—”

“Mr. Kim, your ten-thirty is here,” Mina’s voice crackled through the phone. Seokjin sighed in relief, grateful for once that he was being interrupted with another meeting.

“I guess that’s my cue,” Taehyung turned, his Gucci loafers dragging him halfway through the office. “Don’t forget to tell Y/N.”

“I won’t. She’s stopping by later.”

“Oh? I should stick around, then.”

“We don’t need your constant badgering, thank you very much.” He called out, but Taehyung was already out of his office by then.

* * *

You had never been to the Kim Hotel before, there was simply no reason to step foot into one of their many copy-and-paste buildings that dotted the entire country. You joked to Seokjin a few nights ago about the hotel being his tower, but the building was indeed massive, which would make sense seeing that they are billionaires, after all. They wouldn’t have a measly bed-and-breakfast type of hotel like you do. You stood rooted to the ground, squinting up the massive fortress.

(You’d think at some point they’d have to consider the safety of the poor birds that get confused and end up slamming themselves into its reflective windows, but that seemed like a thought for another day.)

Pushing aside all the uneasy feeling that bubbled from your stomach, you collected yourself mentally and pushed through the revolving doors. It was exactly like you thought it was — the pinnacle of contemporary interior design. Everything blended seamlessly, uncluttered and unbearably white it was practically blinding you. Not wanting to be caught ogling the furniture, you made your way to the steel elevators, punching the button to the highest floor. Seokjin didn’t give you any details as to where his office is located, but surely the highest floor of this gargantuan building would belong to him. The doors slid open after what seemed like a lifetime, and you were greeted with a curt voice.

“Do you have an appointment?”

You blinked, unsure of what to say. “I believe so. My name is—”

“Finally! I thought you’d never arrive,” a brunette with an uncharacteristically wavy hair came bumbling out of what you assumed was a boardroom office. His hands were buried in the pocket of his loosely fitted slacks and an easygoing aura surrounded him. His presence was unmistakable, and despite not sharing the same facial features as Seokjin, you could tell who it was.

“Taehyung?”

His eyes lit up when you said his name as his lips formed into an attractive smile. He turned to Seokjin’s secretary.

“Mina, darling,” he said languidly, but the female did not bat her mascaraed eyelashes. “Will you let us in?”

Ah, so this was the lady you spoke with on the phone when you’d initially tried to get a hold of Seokjin. She seemed less terrifying when you met her face to face; her hair is pulled back in a low ponytail and she wore minimal makeup. She looked friendlier than she sounded, why were you afraid of calling, again?

“Mr. Kim is in a meeting right now,” she busied herself with her work while she spoke. “If you’d wait a moment—”

“But Mina, baby,” Taehyung crooned, leaning over her desk perhaps a little too close. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at his antics; he’s certainly quite different from how Seokjin acted. Whereas Seokjin kept himself aloof most of the time, Taehyung wore his emotions on his sleeve. Both are still unabashedly forward, nonetheless.

Mina stayed impassive, and you can tell why Seokjin hired her to guard his lair — the woman could not be cracked. You admitted to yourself that if Taehyung were to charm your pants off, you’d be completely hooked.

His efforts were rendered futile, however, when the wooden doors of Seokjin’s office opened and gave way to an ebony-haired woman. She was in the middle of securing her wool coat as her heels echoed with confidence through the marble floors, side-stepping to get around you but not before flashing you a lithe smile. The self-assurance you held before walking into the building had all but withered away.

“Taehyung.” She greeted him, but he only stared at her with an impassive gaze. “It’s nice seeing you around here.”

She headed straight to the elevators and disappeared even before you could blink.

“I didn’t think she’d be here today,” Taehyung mumbled.

“She’s the president’s daughter, right?” you asked, not bothering to remember what her name was. Taehyung nodded.

Strictly business my ass. You didn’t want to care, but your all-too-sudden sour mood said otherwise.

You push past the same wooden doors as the woman had earlier and you find Seokjin propped to his desk, hair slicked back, forehead taut in concentration as he focused on whatever was on his screen. If he’d been doing The Deed, you don’t think he’d look as put together as he currently does. That much was enough for you to relax into his leather chaise. Taehyung followed closely, opting to sit on the couch on the far side of the room.

“Future wife, how are you today?” Seokjin began, and you’re irritated slightly by his refusal to set aside whatever he was doing.

“About as well as one can be while visiting their corporate shark fiancé, Mr. Kim. You?”

Taehyung barked out a laugh from where he sat, and you patted yourself on the back. It’s the little accomplishments, you mused to yourself.

Seokjin’s head snapped at Taehyung and he gave his brother a glare that sliced through the room.

“I told you that you’re not needed here today, Taehyung.”

Taehyung ignored Seokjin, clutching his stomach as he wiped away imaginary tears. “Damn, can I be married to her instead?”

“I don’t like the idea of me being thrown around like a piece of meat for your amusement,” you deadpanned, and Taehyung straightened up quickly.

“I didn’t mean to offend, Sis. I only wanted to rile Jin up for my amusement.”

You rolled your eyes, chuckling as he gave you another million-dollar smile. Seokjin sighed as he stood, buttoning up the blazer of his suit. He picked up a manila envelope that was on the edge of his desk before rounding the table.

“You don’t have to sign today. You can take it home and read it over with a lawyer if you want.” He hands you the files before leaning back into the glass table. You shook your head as you pulled out the documents with confidence. If there had been one thing you learned from your parents, it was how to properly read official documents without glossing over important details. Legal documents often used extensive jargon, and you could easily tell they were drafted by actual lawyers. It gave you a tiny bit of relief that he wasn’t trying to scam you.

Your fingers skimmed your hotel’s name in print, somehow unable to wrap your mind around the fact that you no longer owned it. But the promise was clear in ink under commencement of your divorce: your hotel would be yours.

“Do you need one?” Your head lifted to meet Seokjin’s gaze after minutes of silence. He offered a fountain pen that glinted against the afternoon sun as he moved it closer to you. You felt a wave of emotions suddenly overwhelming you, and you blink up at him before shaking your head.

“Maybe I should look it over with a lawyer, after all,” you mumbled while giving him a timid smile. He nodded in understanding and moved back behind his desk.

“It’s no pressure at all.”

“It’s not that… I just,” you inhaled through your nose and out through your mouth. Between revealing your true feelings or lightening the mood with a banter, you chose the latter. “I just want to make sure you’re not hiding any tricks up your sleeves, Mr. Kim.”

“I’m not one to joke around with things like this, Ms. Hwang,” Seokjin said pointedly, and you frowned. Okay, not the mood I was going for.

“That’s true; he doesn’t. He’s as uptight as they come.” Taehyung quipped, rising from his comfortable spot before plopping beside you. He patted your shoulders, almost apologetically. “You’ll get used to him.”

“I highly doubt that,” you snorted, stuffing the papers back in their envelope. “I have no interest in being the CEO’s keeper.”

Taehyung peeled back from you for another belly laugh, and Seokjin rolled his eyes. “I’m right here, you know.”

Taehyung waved him off dismissively and turned back to you. “I wish we’d met under different circumstances, Y/N.”

There was a wicked gleam in Taehyung’s eyes, but you knew he was being playful rather than having malicious intent.

“Didn’t you say there was something else you wanted to talk about, V?” Seokjin’s voice was seething, which caused Taehyung’s grin to grow wider.

“Right, right,” he shifted in his seat as he whipped out his phone. “I made notes, hold on.”

“What’s this about?” you looked between the brothers with confusion.

“Apparently we did the whole ‘date’ thing wrong.” Seokjin deadpanned, rolling his eyes before he turned back to his work.

“Meaning?”

“One, lack of intimacy,” it was Taehyung who answered, and you blush at his comment. You’re reminded of how Seokjin had pulled you against him the moment you stepped out of the car.

“Going excessive on the first date would’ve made it seem disingenuous,” you pointed out, and Seokjin mumbled in agreement.

“Do you not know how Jin usually is with his former dates?” Taehyung asked, which froze Seokjin mid-type.

“I don’t make the habit of reading gossip blogs and tabloids for celebrities,” you mumbled, hoping they bought into your pretense of being calm. In your head you prayed Taehyung wouldn’t elaborate; the image of Seokjin with other women made you want to hurl your guts out. “I could honestly care less.”

“Right,” Taehyung gave you a slanted gaze, and you shrugged. “Please keep in mind to give a little bit more, next time, then.”

“Will do, Chief,” Seokjin grumbled, massaging his temples with both his hands.

“Second, no going home separately, especially since news of your engagement will hit the public this week.”

You fidgeted in your seat, the air in the room suddenly growing warmer.

“There’s a spare room in the penthouse suite,” Seokjin motioned at a door on the other side of his office with his chin. “The bathroom is always stocked with amenities in case—”

The word in case hung in the air like a thick fog, and Seokjin did not have to finish the sentence for you to figure out what he was trying to get at. The message was clear. But to be quite frank, you couldn’t care less. Right before agreeing to the arrangement, it was clear that Seokjin was that type of man, so it shouldn’t come as a surprise to you that he would bring women to his home, which also happened to be where his office was. Yet, there was an uncomfortable prickle in your heart and your palm unintentionally raised to soothe the phantom pain.

“I’m alright with taking a spare office or something. I’ll work for a few hours then head home past midnight. That should raise enough eyebrows, right?” you hoped neither one of them noticed the slight quiver in your voice.

Taehyung must have sensed it because his voice grew quiet. “Okay, I’m sure you two will work something out. That’s it, for now. I’m going to assume the rest will come naturally.”

You had a feeling he had a longer list but opted to be sensible enough to feel your mood shift. Seokjin didn’t say anything, but the lack of clicking noises coming from his direction told you he’s not working, either. You turned, locking gazes with him, but he remained expressionless which irritated you more than you’d like to admit.

“If there’s nothing else, I’ll take my leave,” you brushed imaginary lint off your high-waisted slacks as you stood up.

“So soon?” Taehyung pouted, earning a small laugh from you. The nerves were slowly dissipating, and you were glad.

“I have a date,” you paused, gauging Seokjin’s reaction. The scowl on his face made you smirk. “With some classmates from uni. Gotta keep up with the social circle if I want occasional help with my thesis, right?”

While that was true, the dinner isn’t until three hours from now. But you had no plans to stay here a minute longer; the tense air was suffocating you.

“Don’t be a stranger, Sis.” Taehyung engulfed you in a warm hug and you patted his back, chuckling in amusement.

“See you around, Taehyung.” As you pulled away, you gave Seokjin a slanted gaze. “I’ll give the papers back as soon as I can.”

You wobbled slightly as you headed for the door, disappointed that Seokjin didn’t stop you. He didn’t even bid you farewell. You scoffed.

“Have a good afternoon, Ms. Hwang.” Mina greeted you as you made your way to the elevator. You turned back to her with a genuine smile.

“You as well.”

+++

The pulsing beat of the music had your head throbbing with pain, but you didn’t think it’d be wise to complain. Especially because you couldn’t quite look Seokjin in the eyes for reasons completely unknown to you. Or perhaps you did know, you just chose not to dwell on them.

Two days after your productive visit to Seokjin’s Tower of Terror, your calendar graciously reminded you of another date you’ve set up with him. There was supposed to be a lunch date the day prior, but due to unforeseen circumstances (more so on his part rather than yours), you both agreed to have it cancelled. He apologized, but you dismissed him and said that you forgot that your mother had asked you to visit her and your father, anyways.

(In reality, she hadn’t and was delighted you called to say you were bringing them take-outs for lunch.)

“Wednesday nights are busier than I thought,” Seokjin mused, pulling you out of your mini daydream. You looked up, which proved to be a mistake because the club’s lights flickered in a way that accentuated his features; his straight nose that’s angled between his ever-so-prominent cheekbones. His fringe was down that evening — a sight that you have not yet witnessed. It made him seem younger than his actual age; more laidback, less prim and proper. In any other given scenario, this would not disarm you, but the occasional spark of colour highlighted how close his face was from yours.

In other words, you really ought to get used to being in close proximity to him if you were to continue this ordeal.

“It’s always full of people, no matter the day.”

Seokjin’s brows furrowed as his head dipped, inching his ears closer. You knew you’d flinch away if his arm wasn’t draped around your shoulders. “What was that?”

“I said it doesn’t matter what day it is — it’s always full here,” his scent made you feel more inebriated than the alcohol you held. You found it surprising that Kim Seokjin is not much into the club scene, thinking that people like him often spend half their time wasting away

He whipped his head to meet your gaze once more, a grin forming on his lips. “Of course, you’d know.”

There was something in the tone of his voice that made you want to defend yourself. “I have a social life too, Mr. Kim.”

“I never said you didn’t. But you’re more of a designated driver type rather than the drunk, party all night type of gal. Am I right?”

Your eye twitched in annoyance. Was he really stereotyping you now?

“You don’t know the half of it, Kim Seokjin,” you mutter, unsure whether he heard you or not. But you didn’t care, and instead proceeded to finish your margarita in one chug. You set down on the glass table in front of you before peeling yourself off of him and the velvet sofa. The desire to prove you weren’t prude — despite him not saying it outright — felt greater than your sense of logic and reasoning.

You wobbled slightly as all the blood in your system rushed to your brain. But you managed to steady yourself as you turned back to Seokjin. He watched you with interest, but his lips remained sealed in a grin.

“I do like being the designated driver at times. No shame in keeping my friends safe. Am I right?” you pushed Seokjin’s shoulder with one finger until his back hit the plush sofa. There was no turning back, you realized, when your leather skirt hitched higher as you placed your knees one after the other, effectively trapping him between your thighs. Alcohol was definitely coursing through your veins as you sat on his lap.

It never occurred to you that you’d be so brazen in front of Kim Seokjin. But here you were with your cheeks flushed and heart hammering wildly against your chest, wanting so desperately to prove that his expectations of you were wrong.

“But I can also have fun without being shit-faced.” The less you think about it, the better it was for you not to get embarrassed. So, you ignore his smug, seemingly unfazed expression as you wrapped your arms around his neck.

You were convinced you’ve only got one functioning brain cell left. But if Taehyung were present to judge, you knew he would gag with approval.

“Is that so?” Seokjin played along, and you weren’t entirely shocked; the man was probably used to such endeavours on a nightly basis before your arrangement. He placed his palm against the small of your back, and instead of pulling away, you leaned closer. Being this promiscuous in private was nothing new for you, but never when you knew there were several eyes trained on you like a hawk.

“Shall we give them something to write about, fiancé?” your eyes trailed down to his lips before meeting his gaze once more. You knew he wouldn’t oppose, but you still needed his consent. He nodded with a glint of amusement in his eyes and the next thing you knew, your lips were in his. He was firm and unwavering, slightly aggressive but he damn well knew what he was doing. It felt as if he'd set your body on fire with one singular moment.

You broke away first, eyes seeing but unfocused as you heaved a sigh, lungs welcoming the sweet taste of oxygen. Seokjin chuckled as he studied you with newfound interest, surprisingly well put together compared to you.

“Are you alright?”

“Mhm,” you peeled back from him, pulling your leather skirt down in the process. “That’s probably enough to placate the onlookers.”

You looked around, but the dim lights made it hard to see beyond a few meters. Seokjin followed your actions, and you feel the familiar warmth emanating from him once more. His arm was draped around you once more, but the gesture felt natural this time around. The mere smile he gave you was enough to send butterflies drifting in your stomach. You wouldn’t dare to admit it out loud, but at least you wouldn’t have to pretend to be attracted to him.

* * *

“Birthday?”

“Couldn’t you have just googled this? I’m sure I have a Wikipedia page.” Seokjin said, quite peeved that you didn’t know his birthday yet, when he’d memorized yours: May 24, 1996. You gave him a deadpan look and he sighed defeatedly. “December 4.”

“Year?”

“Seriously?”

You said nothing, opting to dip a fry in your Oreo-flavoured ice cream instead. He wasn’t surprised when you asked to ditch the club to eat, citing that you’d puke your guts out if you didn’t get any food in your system. He didn’t think you meant McDonald’s at midnight.

“1992.”

“Was that so hard?” you mumbled, typing the information on your phone. “Your birthday is coming up soon.”

“If by soon you mean two months from now, then yes.”

“Technically, it’s the seventh today, so it’s less than two months,” you pointed out but didn’t wait for him to return the conversation. “Favourite colour?”

“Are you writing a slam book? Would you like to know who my celebrity crush is, as well?” he rolled his eyes.

“Yes, actually. Let me guess; is it Florence Pugh? Ana de Armas? Brad Pitt? Or someone local…Jun Jihyun?” you mused. He only shook his head at your antics, convinced that you were not fully sober yet. “I’m kidding. I’m just filling out your contact information.”

You slid your phone across the table, which landed perfectly in front of him. True to your words, most of the information was filled out: Rapunzel donned the first name, and nothing was filled out for the last name option. He chuckled but didn’t bother changing it to his actual name and proceeded to input his number.

“That was smooth, Y/n, I must admit. You couldn’t have just asked for it straight up?”

You shrugged. “Where’s the fun in that?”

He handed your phone back, and moments later, his phone buzzed in his jean pockets. He opened the message — no doubt it had been from you.

𝗂 𝖾𝗑𝗉𝖾𝖼𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝖻𝖾 𝗌𝖺𝗏𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗌 “𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗆𝗒 𝗅𝗂𝖿𝖾” ;)

Seokjin simply shook his head; it felt unfamiliar for him to be smiling so much he could feel his cheeks go numb. If he knew how amusing it would be to go on a fake-real-date with you, he would’ve asked his father to set him up with you.

Wait, what?

He turned two strides back, retrieving the steps he made. Certainly, you couldn’t have grown on him so quickly — but in reality, it felt like that for a while now, whether he wanted to admit it or not. He thought the whole ordeal with you would be cumbersome, but it’s been quite the opposite so far. He commended your tenacity to go along with any plans he’s laid out, so far.

That’s because you’re holding her hotel hostage.

To be quite frank, it would’ve been none of his business if he decided not to meddle with his father’s whims. But he’d honestly rather be divorced and have his father lash out at him than be stuck in some arrangement he didn’t want. While it’s true that he could divorce you, either way, the key was the illusion of being in love. As Taehyung kindly pointed out to him: How devastating would it be that you both fell out of love, that they won’t consider rescinding the CEO position once you have it?

The stories would circulate around the heartbreak, instead of the bluff that was his arranged marriage for the sake of saving face.

Although now that he was sitting across from you as he watched you relentlessly dip your fried potatoes in your ice cream for the umpteenth time, the prospect of being married to you no longer felt as daunting. Especially if you were willing to make out with him on occasion as you had earlier. It wasn’t part of the contract, but he was willing to add the extra clause if you’d agree.

“What do you have that creepy grin for, Mr. Kim Seokjin?”

“I’m thinking of taking you home with me tonight, Ms. Hwang.” Seokjin’s satisfaction was evident in his smirk when he saw your eyes widen. He swore he saw you go through five emotions in the span of a mere second.

“Stop teasing. It’s not funny.”

He watched your already blushed cheeks turn a shade deeper as he chuckled. “I’m not teasing. Taehyung’s rules, remember?”

“Oh, right,” you blinked at him blankly. “I forgot to bring my laptop with me so I can have something to work with.”

“You were serious about occupying an office space?” he gawked, brows knitted.

“I was. I’m not sleeping over in your Mistress Suite.” You said in a monotone voice, but the indignation in your eyes told Seokjin you were more than serious — you were offended. At least he could tell that much.

“That name has a nice ring to it. Do you mind if I start calling it that, instead of just the guest room?” The pointed look you gave him made him think you were less than amused with his banter. Seokjin sighed and stood up, motioning for you to follow. “Don’t worry, no one has stayed there for two weeks.”

“I really didn’t need to know,” you grumbled. Seokjin reached out for you to take his hand.

“I’m sure you didn’t. But I’d still like to let you know that I wouldn’t do anything that would jeopardize this arrangement.”

That was part of the truth. The other part came in the form of his animosity towards infidelity. Seokjin genuinely hoped you didn’t think he would cheat on you during the span of your agreement. He had issues committing, yes, but he couldn’t begin to imagine inflicting such pain on another person. Not when he’s had firsthand experience on the subject.

It reassured him that there was an end to your charade, a point where he can say checkmate and the game would be over. Commitment still has to be made, for sure, but nothing that would leave him like an empty husk of his former self afterwards. No monsters under the bed, no skeletons in the closet, either.

You slid off the booth but did not take his outstretched hand, so he casually stuffed in his pocket. You were setting your limits, and he had to respect that. Perhaps the silly extra clause he thought of will not be a necessity, after all.

NEXT ;

thanks for reading this chapter. feedback is always appreciated! ♡

#seokjin fic #seokjin scenarios #jin scenario #seokjin scenario #bts scenarios #bangtan scenario #jin scenarios #seokjin fanfic #jin fanfic #seokjin x reader #bts fanfic #seokjin angst #seokjin fluff #seokjin smut #jin #seokjin #taehyung scenario #writing

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armandbacon · 3 years

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gremlem · 3 years

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UHHH LUVBUG BACKSTORY TIME I GUESS, TIME TO GET SAD/LH

Tw for, ableism, shitty childhood, mention of transphobia, neglectful parents,and general other shitty things

Okay, so what I got so far is that Bug was born, under both a first and last name they no longer use, to their parents ofc, one of which a fairly high ranking hero named Flashfire, and the other a government worker who worked in close proximity to them. Bug didn't show any signs of having powers until about 5, after experiencing an electric shock from a busted power cable, at which point they were promptly put into testing and training to learn how to control their powers and use them as a hero. Unfortunately as you might know, Bug's powers are incredibly unpredictable and well, glitchy, so training went,,, less than swimmingly KDJFJDJDJJSJDJDJS

when they finally had at least a rudimentary grasp on their powers at 11-12 they were tasked to "help" other hero teams with their somewhat easier to control supporting powers (it was mostly just to get them out in the field), and given a hero name, Shock-wave. As they continued though, more and more pressure was put on them to master their electrokinesis in order to actually place them on a team and stop villainy and criminals. In training they were taught to repress their emotions, in an attempt to keep more stable control over their electricity and make it pinpoint sharp. This went not so well, as was the trend in their training, and the pressure put on them not only by the researchers but their parents only made it worse. Trying to repress their emotions made them grow unpredictable and somewhat erratic, with them letting out bolts of electricity at random times and completely losing control of their physical form at others. IT ESPECIALLY DIDNT HELP THAT THEYRE QUITE MENTALLY ILL AND AUTISTIC WITHOUT ANY SORT OF SUPPORT FOR IT SKDJDJDJJDJDJDJDJDJDJD

The people around Bug only seemed to grow frustrated as their use to them lessened and lessened due to their mental state, with them eventually even being deemed unfit to work at 16. This was an especially devastating blow, as up until then, their whole sense of worth was based around helping others and being "of use" to the organization. Training stopped completely as they were deemed a lost cause, and it was decided the funds would be better put somewhere else. Bug used this newfound time to develop some hobbies, in an attempt to distract themself and keep themself going, however their parents were,,, less than enthused they weren't working on getting themself back onto a team (and this isn't even to mention the ableism they experienced and what went down when they tried to come out to their parents at 14 but y'know KDJDJDNDBDJDHDJDJHD)

At 19-20 they just left, moving into a shitty little flat, and started trying to get a "real" job. Over at the organization records were scrubbed and any public mention of them was taken down, essentially erasing them from history. It,,, didn't go great for a while, and while waiting for jobs to get back to them they took to the internet, exploring their previously mostly untapped ability to travel through the "webosphere". They started doxing predators and hacking sketchy websites, eventually making a bit of a name for themself in the strangest of places. The online villain community. Working retail by day and doing odd jobs for villains by night, they had found a niche that was,,, comfortable at least. The villains tended to not be nearly as corrupt or cutthroat as the government and hero organizations they had encountered, and they were free to use their powers the way they wanted, focusing on web travel, hacking, and viruses instead of their electrokinesis. They may have TECHNICALLY become a villain, but physically hurting people was still a line they didn't really want to cross. Eventually after a few years of doing this they took up a new name of their choosing, Luvbug, and finally dubbed themselves a villain, all the while still working a shitty job at walmart BFJKBJKBGVKSBRH

They honestly don't remember a lot of their life before age 16, and even after that its kinda fuzzy for a long time, both because of trauma, but also just general memory issues, but they still occasionally get,,,, flashes of their life before, often inducing a depressive (or rarely, manic) episode. They definitely have a better support system now than before but y'know, mental health is still a struggle, ANNNNDDDDD THATS WHAT I GOT SO FAR JKSDGVKJSDGVHKSDVHSDG

#goobspeak #luvbug #villainsona #UHH YEAH THEYRE #VV TRAUMATIZED #sorry if my tone seems kinda light here. i have a lotta similar trauma so this didnt seem nearly as sad when i was actually writing it

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itsclydebitches · 4 years

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Hello again, everyone! This is a long one so let’s dive straight in.

We open up on Fox who, like everyone else in this novel, is upset about one thing or another. In his case it's that he wound up watching a club/gambling house (the exact nature of the establishment is murky) with Coco instead of patrolling the more lively restaurant and club district (even though this place, as said, is referred to as a club at time). Which, to be fair to Fox, is a legitimate complaint when you're blind and can't really do the whole "watching" part of the activity. Initially he believes that Coco must have a good reason for choosing him... “Unless he’d done something to get on her bad side."

In fact, this is such a likely possibility that Fox begins questioning Coco on where everyone is (a convenient way to let the audience know too), what they were assigned to do, and whether that assignment came about due to petty revenge. He complains that Team SSSN has gotten all the "fun stuff"—are you doing a job or goofing off, Fox?—but Coco reassures him that they're not being rewarded and he's not being punished. It's just that any other combination didn't sit right with her. Would Fox have enjoyed going off with Sun? No. If Sun was paired with another would they have wanted to watch Neptune? Not really. Does Fox even trust Sun? Not as of yet:

"I don’t know Sun yet. Not really. I guess I don’t trust Team SSSN to not mess things up for us. They’re sloppy and off-balance right now.”

Coco follows this up by saying that Scarlet and Sage get to guard the Academy wall because she doesn't want Scarlet near Sun after their argument at the group therapy meeting, and he himself is "too zealous" about protecting the Academy. So it's just easier not to fight him. “If we don’t want them to get in our way, or worse, raise a big enough stink that we can’t continue our investigation, it’s better to keep them involved in a limited capacity.”

Now, there's a lot to unpack in that statement and I'm not particularly impressed with any of it. First, it bears repeating that we're now four chapters in —about 60 pages in my PDF—and we're still dragging Team SSSN to the shattered moon and back. I'm not claiming that, as Fox says, they're not dealing with stuff right now, or that their emotions are clouding their skills and perception (I called Sun out for that just last chapter), but I certainly question the "friends" who discuss those problems in such a smug manner, rather than wondering if and how they might help. Thus far, the criticism of Team SSSN serves only for Team CFVY to continually paint themselves as the superior group. They assume that, unless handled delicately, SSSN would inevitably "mess things up" because they, at their core, are a worse team than CFVY. These comments exist only to boost CFVY's ego. Thank the gods we're not like that.

This is the same Coco who thought that she knew something about regaining the trust of her team. But does she extend any sympathy and understanding here? Nope. It continues to amaze me how often RWBY writes characters going through very similar, difficult circumstances and yet so few of them admit to those similarities, let alone act on them.

Second, in a franchise rife with themes about earned trust and manipulation, it's worth acknowledging that Coco moves everyone around, including her own team, based on pretty unsubstantiated emotions rather than logic. As someone who has done nothing but insult Sun to his face thus far, she hasn't exactly earned his trust either, yet she's willing to prioritize this assertion that he'll "mess things up" over the best choices for this mission. Meaning, Fox initially thinks that Coco, as a brilliant leader, has a persuasive reason for giving him this task. We learn she doesn't. He then thinks Coco gave him this task as a form of punishment. She didn't. So what are we left with? Coco claims she gave her orders based on her and Fox being able to chat (yay telepathy), but her explanation says it’s really about what she thinks SSSN might do, rather than what she knows her own team can do. At the end of the day (or night in this case) we've got the blind guy on stakeout using his telepathy to keep her entertained, rather than taking the mission he's both better suited for and enjoys more. Coco spouts a lot of stuff that sounds like leader-ly strategy, but in the end she made these calls primarily because she doesn't like SSSN.

So why are they working together again? Because the plot demands it? I wish the novel had done more to justify this partnership other than, 'If we don't let SSSN help they'll rat us out because they're terrible like that.' If the teams hate one another this much just let them work apart. Otherwise, please start the process of having them grow and begin to appreciate one another. As it stands, we have a few buddy-buddy moments that imply they’re “really” friends when the rest of the novel has done little to demonstrate that. It’s confusing at best and uncomfortable at worst, in the same way that watching the group happily invite Oscar to the movies after volumes of ignoring/attacking/using him as an Ozpin scapegoat is uncomfortable. It’s weird. I’m glad it exists, but how did we get here?

However, this growth isn’t going to happen tonight because Coco likewise ensured that no one is mixing. As Fox points out, "conveniently enough, this way you don’t have to break up our team, or mix them and us.” Nor has Coco broken up the usual partner teams of Sun and Neptune, Scarlet and Sage. Anyone who follows my other metas know that I'm waiting for the webseries to mix up RWBY and JNR more (thank you, Volume 8 preview), or at least have Blake work with someone other than Yang and Weiss work with someone other than Ruby, so I was disappointed to see this same trend not only repeated here, but celebrated by another character. Though not as overt as some of the problems in Volumes 6 and 7, this is what I mean by RWBY introducing conflicts but doing little to resolve them. It's a decent setup to pit SSSN's problems against CFVY's bias—When will Sun apologize to his team? When will Coco acknowledge that her intense criticism of him is born far more from assumptions than proof? When will both teams extend a hand to one another that isn't done in the name of self-preservation?—but thus far it's nothing but setup. And the longer it goes on the less a single scene of growth can stand up against that. The less space we have for that growth, period. This is my problem with many villain redemption arcs: a few episodes of contrite behavior cannot emotionally outweigh whole seasons of horrific actions. It's a presumed redemption based on audience expectations, rather than something we see earned throughout the course of the story. For me, there has to be a certain amount of time and effort put into that change. The worse the actions, the more time and effort needed to, if not absolve them, at least get everyone to a point where they can be set aside. Before the Dawn feels like a very mild case of this, in that I'm wondering how long everyone is going to act this way towards one another before things start getting better. The longer it goes on, the more I expect of the story in order to dig the characters out of it. Though serviceable, a scene like "Then Sun realized he was pushing everyone away and Coco realized she'd been too hard on him, so they both decided to change. Maybe for persuasive reasons, maybe not. The end" isn't emotionally engaging. The disagreeable characteristics across this cast are numerous, yet RWBY doesn't feel like a story where I'm suppose to dislike everyone in an entertaining way—a la Mean Girls.

Thus, I'm wondering when we'll actually start the work of getting me to like this group more/getting them to like each other more, as well as how much of that work we’ll see overall.

Right, I've blathered on about this quite enough. The story (unconsciously I assume) continues to emphasize how expected it is that Coco would give awful jobs to teammates because she's annoyed with them, which doesn't say great things about her leadership, but that at least is something I could easily see a teenager with that kind of power doing. She and Fox round out the list of bad jobs by mentioning that Velvet and Yatsuhashi got stuck with grimm watch, "the duty of the low-rent Huntsmen who worked loosely with local law enforcement to help keep the peace." Given how they discuss this, the implication seems to be that this is an insulting job to give their teammates, which is hilarious considering that these four aren't even huntsmen yet. They're second years! 'What'd they do to deserve a job for low-rent huntsmen?' asks the guy who isn't a huntsmen at all yet.

We learn though that there has been a rise in grimm across the city. How did Coco get that information?

Coco laughed. “I snuck into [Professor Rumpole's] office.”

“Coco!” Fox said.

“Don’t lecture me, Fox.”

Fox smiled. “How dare you do that without inviting me,” he sent.

I get it. I honestly do. It may not seem at times that I understand that a story about a bunch of students has to find a way to get those students involved, or that these students, as teenagers, will do stupid things, that as humans they’ll even do horrible things... but surely there's a way to achieve all this without having our heroes constantly treat their allies in such a callous, disrespectful manner. Breaking rules is not inherently a bad thing. Some rules are unfair and upholding them does more harm than good. Some rules, while important from one perspective, can be broken without any serious repercussions. I never had a problem with Harry, Ron, and Hermione constantly breaking their curfew because kids sneaking out of bed isn't hurting anyone (overlooking the potential of the magic castle hurting them, but I digress). The rule exists for reasons like "You need enough sleep and are unlikely to get that unless we make you" and "A bunch of 11-year-olds shouldn't be left unsupervised in the magic castle" and "Learning how to follow some simple rules and listen to your guardians helps build basic skills needed for adulthood" but really? At the end of the day the Trio breaking that rule—particularly for good reasons like "We suspect nefarious Dark Lord shenanigans are afoot"— is far from the end of the world. Harry Potter also has the added benefit of making the adults actually useless and/or indifferent a lot of the time. We had a story where the kids, more often than not, were the last line of defense.

Rumpole? She is not useless or indifferent. Two chapters ago we established that she is conducting an investigation, Team CFVY just decided that wasn't enough because they want to be involved. And breaking into her office to snoop through her desk? That's not a harmless crime! Beyond the fact that Coco is looking for info she's not allowed to have and finding additional information she's not supposed to have, that's a serious breach of privacy. Clearly neither of them have enough respect for Rumpole to care about that though. Casual rule-breaking like that should be reserved for characters who have failed to earn the respect of the characters or the audience, demonstrating a lack of ethics that (arguably) justifies whatever they get. Basically, the Umbridges and the Lockharts of the world, not the Rumpoles who—far as I have seen so far—have done nothing but take their students seriously and adhere to not unreasonable expectations like, "Please don't get involved in something that might get you killed [cough-Sun taking on three goons-cough] and/or don't ruin the investigation I've already started." Or, at the very least, have the characters feel contrite and guilty about what they felt they had to do.

Why do I like these characters again? It would at least be more satisfying if the story acknowledged that the vast majority of our cast has turned into anti-heroes. I'm fine with that story! But not the one that claims it's "necessary" that our "classic" heroes pull stunts like breaking and entering, theft, lying, etc. without actually providing compelling reasons for those actions. Let Coco break into Rumpole's office, but do the work first of convincing me why she should be involved in this in the first place, why this info is necessary, and why doing that to an ally is necessary too. Kindhearted heroes should have a different reaction to unnecessarily breaking their instructor’s trust than laughter and jokes.

In considering how Before the Dawn intersects with the main webseries, I think it's also worth highlighting that casual line about how more grimm are getting into the city: "There’s been a rise in incidents of Grimm wandering into the city lately." That was one of the major conflicts of Volume 7 and one of the things the fandom uses as a means of mapping Ironwood's downfall: grimm were getting into the city and he failed to stop it, ergo he's a terrible leader, ergo he’s a terrible person, shooting Oscar is something I’d expect of him. Yet the same thing appears to be happening in Vacuo and, thus far, the story isn't interested in giving it the same gravitas. How are the grimm getting in? If the situation is bad enough that Theodore is sending both huntsmen and students to deal with it—“So that’s why Theodore’s been sending more students out lately, clearing the immediate area of Grimm"—isn't he a failed leader as well? Either one of these perspectives work, just not both at once. Either grimm attacks are an inevitable result of living in Remnant and the people deal with them without assigning undo blame, or both headmasters should be facing heat for failing to keep this from happening. So I'll be interested to see if this comes up again and, if so, how. Because right now Coco and Fox are treating it like a casual occurrence, whereas Volume 7 painted it as a serious failing.

We finally learn that Coco and Fox are watching this club because there are two huntsmen gambling inside instead of out doing their job. Except maybe they're off and just like gambling? How do they know there are huntsmen inside to begin with? Or, if they're unsure of that, why are they staking out this specific club? Did they pick one at random because clubs have been associated with the baddies? I feel like I'm constantly playing catchup with this novel. Details are mentioned like Meyers introduced them earlier (he didn't) but then those details still fail to help me make sense of the scene or the characters’ motivations. As I mentioned in the last recap, I never have both pieces of information: what exactly the characters are doing and why they're doing it. Fox and Coco's entire conversation revolves around Fox not know why they're here or what anyone else is up to, but instead of answering his questions we get pieces of information—huntsmen, clubs, grimm attacks, the Crown—that don't easily fit together but are presented as if they do. Then the plot just lands in their lap. Meyers never needs to explain why Coco took the time to stake out this particular club out of an entire city's worth because, of course, it just so happens to be the club where something nefarious is going on. Once they're chasing two baddies it's too late. We've moved on.

Before we get into that chase though, I'd just like to point out the exceedingly odd anti-huntsmen sentiment in this chapter. subtle, but there. As mentioned previously, we have a potential dig at low-rent Huntsmen and the kinds of jobs they do. Then we're told that

"Nothing much happened in Vacuo, and when there was an argument or a crime, people tended to sort things out on their own—with their fists. But when it came to Grimm, Vacuans depended on Huntsmen to fight their battles for them."

This one is admittedly me reading into things a bit (in case anyone missed it: I don't hold this novel in particularly high esteem lol) but "fight their battles for them" is usually a phrasing meant to carry another subtle insult. You need someone else's help and that's bad. Which makes a certain amount of sense for Vacuo's focus on strength, but I wonder why the huntsmen are getting brought into this for... doing their jobs? The explicit purpose of huntsmen is to fight grimm, so it's pretty weird to have a line that implies any negativity for them doing that. Oh, you need huntsmen to fight your battles? How horrible. Even though the huntsmen as an institution exist to fight those battles. It's like saying the first department has to “fight your battles” because you’re not capable of putting the fire out yourself. It carries an implication that, ideally, huntsmen wouldn’t be needed at all. Not because grimm go away, but because people would be able to fight grimm... even though, again, that fantasy already exists within the huntsmen. It’s just weird.

Finally, Fox outright theorizes that maybe there are more grimm because “the Huntsmen are getting lazy" and I'm just ????? You want to be?? A huntsmen??? What is this characterization? At best it reads like Meyers forgot that this group playing detectives are training to become a part of the institution they're criticizing. At worst it reads like the team simply believes themselves to be better than other huntsmen for undisclosed reasons. Like there are normal huntsmen doing grunt jobs and being lazy, and then there's Team CFVY who experienced A Battle and consider themselves vastly more experienced as a result (despite others like Scarlet trying to remind them that they're still only students). I doubt Coco and Fox will come to realize this, not unless something in Before the Dawn really knocks them down a peg, but I honestly wonder in these recent installments why most of these characters want to be huntsmen at all. It’s a job that requires adhering to a hierarchy of authority, obeying the laws of the kingdom you're in, and working closely with what allies are available to you. They don't seem to want any of that, but nor do they frame this as a flawed institution that they hope to improve: “Huntsmen do have a reputation for being lazy, but we’ll fix that once we get our licenses.” As it stands, they want to be vigilantes, getting praise for their deeds but being able to break the rules whenever they please.

Their theorizing is interrupted though when two huntsmen exit the club. How does Coco know they're huntsmen? Huntsmen don't wear uniforms and lots of non-huntsmen folk carry weapons... I simply don’t know. But these two offer to walk one of the gamblers home, considering he's won a fair bit of lien that night. Fox gets interested because their auras are bright enough that he can see them and they're identical, which isn't normal.

But wait. Back up.

Can everyone see auras? Obviously we as the audience can, but the RWBY folk in-world potentially can't, not if Coco doesn't see how "vivid" these auras are herself. Fox is the one providing this information and Fox is the one who needs to track the huntsmen when they flee. This ability seems to be unique to him.

Why can Fox see auras then? That's not his semblance and, far as I can tell, it isn't logically a byproduct of telepathy (like how healing is a byproduct of Jaune amplifying aura). Honestly, it feels like 'The blind character has a special way of seeing the world' trope without actually explaining what that special way is or where it came from.

Why is Fox emphasizing that he can see the auras? The implication is that they're so powerful he, the blind guy, can actually see them... but how is he 'seeing' them the rest of the time? This isn't the first time Fox has been aware of someone's aura because he informs Coco that they're not normally the same color, but if these auras are unique because he can see them, what's happening every other time he comes across non-identical/powerful/weird auras? Does Fox just feel them somehow? Is it a non-visual sense and strong/weirdo auras propel it into sight as well? I'm very confused by all of this.

Regardless, it quickly becomes clear that these huntsmen are actually kidnapping the guy. Fox uses teamspeak to call everyone to him... including SSSN. So much for this remaining a secret until Fox trusts them! It would be one thing if Fox was forced to cast a wide net, but far as I can tell there's nothing stopping him from taking an extra two seconds to just contact his team. In the span of about a day in-world we're given two different explanations here. First it's

Velvet whispered a description of what they were seeing to Fox, avoiding teamspeak for SSSN’s benefit. No one found out about Fox’s Semblance until he trusted them enough to let them in on it.

then it's

Velvet jumped in. “It’s Fox’s Semblance. He’s telepathic. And he likes surprising people with it.”

So which is it? Does Fox treat his semblance as a closely guarded secret in an effort to protect himself, get an edge in battle, all that jazz, or does he just like waiting to spring it on people as a practical joke? Because if it's the former, Team SSSN haven't done anything in the last couple of hours to suddenly earn Fox's trust. Nothing we're shown, anyway. Rather, we just finished a conversation where Coco basically goes, 'You trust Sun?' and Fox's response, though somewhat noncommittal, basically amounts to a, 'Nah.'

Well, SSSN knows now. Everyone starts heading Fox's way while Coco interrupts the two huntsmen in the midst of their kidnapping. The kidnapee, a merchant, blurts something about not being helpless and Coco threatens to leave him.

"Coco had a real sadistic streak sometimes. Just one of the reasons she and Fox made great partners."

Hello, friends, family, and people of the internet: am I insane for thinking this is not how you write heroes? It's one thing if you're using "sadistic" as an obvious exaggeration—Coco playfully teases Velvet about her supposedly awful clothes. She's got a real sadistic streak—but threatening to leave someone to be kidnapped because, what? People need to act helpless enough for her to deem saving? Who writes their supposedly classic hero like that and then makes her partner go, 'Haha yeah she's mean. That's why we're friends :D'

Real badasses are kind and I stand by that.

Of course, the merchant immediately backtracks and Coco demands his release. Sun and Neptune arrive, recognizing the two huntsmen as the goons that Sun fought. There's some talk about a "She" who they're expected to deliver the merchant to and Velvet—again—brings up the rescue.

“You mean the ones we rescued Sun from?” Velvet asked. “Come on!” Sun sent.

Recurring jokes like this are only good when 1. The characters are established as actually liking one another (otherwise they're not jokes) and 2. It doesn't come up every other chapter. When the chapters are roughly ten pages each.

Before a fight can start though the goons give up, dropping the merchant and making a run for it. Fox is sent after them. He uses his ADA machine to navigate his surroundings, which is a detail I really like and appreciate. He's blind. There's no reason why he wouldn't use accessibility tools to assist him. So well done there.

The goons disappear into an abandoned building that ADA identifies as a former dust refinery. There's also a comment about how tall it is compared to the other buildings in Vacuo. Fox loses them because of the number of people inside—all those auras blending together—and, like the goons themselves, a lot of those auras "seem the same." Velvet and Yatsuhashi arrive to assist Fox... but their assistance amounts to Yatsuhashi trying and failing to cut down the door with his sword?? Then all those potential baddies know they've found the super secret hideout. Well done.

They're lucky they just asked for a password. Which, of course, the group doesn't know.

With more time to observe the mass of auras, Fox drops the bombshell that he thinks one of them may be Professor Rumpole's. The group quickly decides that she must be conducting her investigation, but the other obvious possibility that they don't seem to realize (yet) is that she's working with them instead. If Rumpole does end up evil or something I just want to say that my previous points still stand. It’s not okay for the group to twist her 'Don't get involved' into a 'Well, she just doesn't want us to get caught.' Not okay for Coco to sneak into her office and snoop on official reports. Sometimes people will retroactively absolve characters of bad decisions because much later the person who bore the brunt of those decisions turns out to be bad... but the characters didn't know that at the time. The Lockhart and Umbridge examples above work because they were introduced as terrible people who were then later revealed to be even worse than the characters previously knew: Lockhart moves from an inept, overbearing idiot to a con artist erasing others' memories; Umbridge moves from a cruel instructor to a torturer whose rhetoric aligns with the Dark Lord's. Rumpole? Far as the group knows she's done nothing but assist and teach them.

So the three are just standing around, wondering what to do and what it all means. Coco calls Fox only for Fox to immediately hang up on her because everyone is already using teamspeak. Why bother to call in the first place? I don't know. But they fill Coco in and she decides not to ruin Rumpole's (presumed) investigation. Which is good! Yes, Coco does it partly for self/team-serving reasons

Coco shut the idea down quickly. “If we interfere in her investigation and blow whatever she’s doing, we’ll get worse than detention. She’ll probably kick us out of Shade. And we’ll have ruined the usefulness of the information she’s gathering. I say we give her time to do her thing.”

but if fear of expulsion gets them to make a smart call, I'll take it. Besides, as Coco herself points out, they now have some leads to follow. They can continue their investigation without diving headfirst into the danger pool. Like Yatsuhashi apparently wanted to do. Attacking the door with his sword.

(Seriously what was the plan there? Cut open metal, barge your way inside, and take on a massive group yourselves—two of which you already know attacked Sun? It's an Experience™ to be in the heads of teens who think they're hot shit, but act so, so dumb. Admittedly this is something to praise about Myers' writing: of course the personal PoV of these characters is going to contrast reality. What they think they’re like and what an outsider sees will often differ.)

Coco goes on to reiterate that the merchant was "rude" about being rescued, threatening to “report us to the headmaster, once he found out we’re only students, not licensed Huntsmen." Which yeah, that's a dick move. Coco was awful for threatening to leave him, but if a bunch of kids saved me from a kidnapping I wouldn't threaten them with punishment because they're not the police. The implication is that he's xenophobic, given that he was a little too interested in how they're from Beacon/Haven and would only talk to Sun. Coco is "smug" about it.

Note the pattern again: Coco threatens something horrible, later the guy is revealed to be an asshole for unrelated reasons, so she's smug about her actions. See? He deserved what he got. But that's not how this works. If I walk up to someone and randomly punch them, then it's revealed they’re a criminal, I don't get to act all pleased that I spotted an asshole and took action early. I still punched someone without provocation. For anyone, but especially for a hero, ‘They were vaguely sort of mean/rude to me’ is not a good justification for objectively cruel acts. I’m looking at you, RWBY and Witcher.

More important for the plot, Coco reveals that the merchant doesn't have a semblance and the club owner claims the two goons really are huntsmen—though who can say for sure. With little else to do, Coco makes plans to return to Rumpole's office tomorrow.

“And snoop around some more?” Fox asked.

“No,” Coco said. “I’m going to ask her some questions.”

I suppose that's an improvement? I cannot possibly express how not engaging this mystery is though. It's vaguely confusing and feels all-around cobbled together. Every action the group has taken so far hasn't just been unnecessary (I prefer heroes who have a good reason—or at least perceive they have a good reason—for getting involved when others are already working to solve a problem), but it’s also dependent on coincidence to a frustrating degree. Even in a story where I know and accept and welcome some coincidence to move the plot along. But this? Sun gets involved because he follows a woman when he doesn't actually know if she's in trouble or not, but of course she is. Then they stand around a wall until the story drops a crying girl in their lap, because of course a person will have gone missing the second they need a lead and are in the perfect place to receive one. Then Coco seems to pick a club at random to stakeout, because of course that will be the one club where our two huntsmen/goons will be trying to kidnap someone new. None of their intellect, knowledge, or skills lead them to the next phase of the investigation, with the exception of Coco breaking in to steal info about the case. Obviously RWBY is not meant to be a classic mystery, but as a massive Sherlock Holmes fan this is a slog to get through. We have no compelling reason why the group is investigating and the investigation itself isn't teaching us anything compelling about them. This could have been the place to demonstrate how a huntsmen's skills go far beyond just throwing a punch. Instead we see... what? That Yatsuhashi can try to break down a door and say "Ow" about it? At least the webseries gave us two faunus donning grimm masks to sneak into the extremist, faunus-only meeting. Comparatively that's a leagues better investigation than the one we’re getting here.

Am I surprised? No. Do I still hope that this book will improve? Always. We'll see what Chapter Five gives me.

Until then! 💜

#rwby #rwde #BTD Recaps #Before the Dawn #mymetas

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newstfionline · 3 years

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Monday, April 5, 2021

Coming out of the cave: As life creeps back, some feel dread (AP) Dinner reservations are gleefully being made again. Long-canceled vacations are being booked. People are coming together again, in some of the ways they used to. But not everyone is racing back. For some, even small tasks outside the home—a trip to the grocery store, or returning to the office—can feel overwhelming. Psychologists call it re-entry fear, and they’re finding it more common as headlines herald the imminent return to post-pandemic life. “I have embraced and gotten used to this new lifestyle of avoidance that I can’t fathom going back to how it was. I have every intention of continuing to isolate myself,” says Thomas Pietrasz, who lives alone and works from his home in the Chicago suburbs as a content creator. Pietrasz says his anxiety has grown markedly worse as talk of post-vaccine life grows. He says he got used to “hiding at home and taking advantage of curbside and delivery in order to avoid every situation with people.”

Vaccine passports are latest flash point in COVID politics (AP) Vaccine passports being developed to verify COVID-19 immunization status and allow inoculated people to more freely travel, shop and dine have become the latest flash point in America’s perpetual political wars, with Republicans portraying them as a heavy-handed intrusion into personal freedom and private health choices. They currently exist in only one state—a limited government partnership in New York with a private company—but that hasn’t stopped GOP lawmakers in a handful of states from rushing out legislative proposals to ban their use. Vaccine passports are typically an app with a code that verifies whether someone has been vaccinated or recently tested negative for COVID-19. They are in use in Israel and under development in parts of Europe. But lawmakers around the country are already taking a stand against the idea. “We have constitutional rights and health privacy laws for a reason,” said Pennsylvania House Majority Leader Kerry Benninghoff, a Republican. “They should not cease to exist in a time of crisis. These passports may start with COVID-19, but where will they end?” Benninghoff said this week his concern was “using taxpayer money to generate a system that will now be, possibly, in the hands of mega-tech organizations who’ve already had problems with getting hacked and security issues.”

Facebook data on more than 500M accounts found online (AP) Details from more than 500 million Facebook users have been found available on a website for hackers. The information appears to be several years old, but it is another example of the vast amount of information collected by Facebook and other social media sites, and the limits to how secure that information is. The availability of the data set was first reported by Business Insider. According to that publication, it has information from 106 countries including phone numbers, Facebook IDs, full names, locations, birthdates, and email addresses. Facebook has been grappling with data security issues for years.

In Myanmar, Easter eggs a symbol of defiance for anti-coup protesters (Reuters) Opponents of military rule in Myanmar inscribed messages of protest on Easter eggs on Sunday while others were back on the streets, facing off with the security forces after a night of candle-lit vigils for hundreds killed since a Feb. 1 coup. In the latest in a series of impromptu shows of defiance, messages including “We must win” and “Get out MAH”—referring to junta leader Min Aung Hlaing—were seen on eggs in photographs on social media. Young people in the main city of Yangon handed out eggs bearing the messages of protest, pictures in posts showed.

With Swarms of Ships, Beijing Tightens Its Grip on South China Sea (NYT) The Chinese ships settled in like unwanted guests who wouldn’t leave. As the days passed, more appeared. They were simply fishing boats, China said, though they did not appear to be fishing. Dozens even lashed themselves together in neat rows, seeking shelter, it was claimed, from storms that never came. Not long ago, China asserted its claims on the South China Sea by building and fortifying artificial islands in waters also claimed by Vietnam, the Philippines and Malaysia. Its strategy now is to reinforce those outposts by swarming the disputed waters with vessels, effectively defying the other countries to expel them. The goal is to accomplish by overwhelming presence what it has been unable to do through diplomacy or international law. And to an extent, it appears to be working. “Beijing pretty clearly thinks that if it uses enough coercion and pressure over a long enough period of time, it will squeeze the Southeast Asians out,” said Greg Poling, the director of the Asia Maritime Transparency Initiative at the Center for Strategic and International Studies in Washington, which tracks developments in the South China Sea. “It’s insidious.”

Nearly 20 arrested in alleged plot against Jordan’s King Abdullah II (Washington Post) Jordanian authorities on Saturday arrested as many as 20 people and sought to restrain the movement of a former crown prince amid what officials called a threat to the “security and stability” of a country long regarded as a vital U.S. ally in the Middle East. Prince Hamzeh bin Hussein, the eldest son of the late King Hussein and his American-born fourth wife, Queen Noor, was told to remain at his Amman palace amid an investigation into an alleged plot to unseat his older half brother, King Abdullah II, according to a senior Middle Eastern intelligence official briefed on the events. The move followed the discovery of what officials described as a complex and far-reaching plot that included at least one other Jordanian royal as well as tribal leaders and members of the country’s political and security establishment. One official cited unspecified evidence of “foreign” backing for the plan. Biden administration officials were briefed on the arrests, which come at a time of heightened economic and political tension in a country long regarded as a bulwark of stability and an essential partner in U.S.-led counterterrorism operations.

Cairo’s mummies get a new home. And a grand procession on the way. (Washington Post) It was a parade unlike any other this city has seen. A procession of 22 ancient Egyptian royal mummies streamed Saturday from downtown Cairo, where revolutionaries rose up to topple autocrat Hosni Mubarak a decade ago, to a new museum three miles away that represents Egypt’s future as much as its past. At 8 p.m., the mummies—18 kings and four queens—left the famed ochre-hued Egyptian Museum near Tahrir Square, where they had rested for decades. They were each atop specially decorated gold-and-blue-hued vehicles resembling boats. Or perhaps the symbol of a winged sun, an ornament worn by Egypt’s ancient rulers and seen as providing protection. Each of the 22 vehicles was emblazoned with the name of the royal mummy it carried. The multimillion-dollar affair—called the Pharaohs’ Golden Parade—had been promoted for months. Egyptian authorities are seeking to attract tourists, a key source of foreign currency, and alter the course of an economy battered by the coronavirus pandemic, Islamist attacks and political chaos in past years. The highly choreographed ceremony was also a nationalist vehicle to highlight Egypt’s place in history. The nation’s authoritarian president, Abdel Fatah al-Sissi, who himself is often referred to as “a new pharaoh” for his ambitious projects and iron-fisted rule, presided over the ceremony.

Confronting late-stage pandemic burnout (NYT) Like many of us, the writer Susan Orlean is having a hard time concentrating these days. “Good morning to everyone,” she tweeted recently, “but especially to the sentence I just rewrote for the tenth time.” “I feel like I’m in quicksand,” she explained by phone from California, where she has been under quasi-house arrest for the last year. “I’m just so exhausted all the time. I’m doing so much less than I normally do—I’m not traveling, I’m not entertaining, I’m just sitting in front of my computer—but I am accomplishing way less. It’s like a whole new math. I have more time and fewer obligations, yet I’m getting so much less done.” Call it a late-pandemic crisis of productivity, of will, of enthusiasm, of purpose. Whatever you call it, it has left many of us feeling like burned-out husks, dimwitted approximations of our once-productive selves. “Malaise, burnout, depression and stress—all of those are up considerably,” said Todd Katz, executive vice president and head of group benefits at MetLife. The company’s most recent Employee Benefit Trends Study, conducted in December and January, found that workers across the board felt markedly worse than they did last April. The study was based in part on interviews with 2,651 employees. In total, 34 percent of respondents reported feeling burned out, up from 27 percent last April. Twenty-two percent said they were depressed, up from 17 percent last April, and 37 percent said they felt stressed, up from 34 percent.

#headlines #news

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scotttrismegistus7 · 4 years

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LIBER: AS FAR FROM GOD AS ANGELS CAN FLY, FORGOTTEN IN THE DARKNESS IS THE UNDEAD SOUL

WARNING: THIS IS A SUBJECT OF THE MOST ADVANCED LEVELS OF OCCULT MASTERY

I am not going to glory in the Books of Black Earth, they are forgotten for a reason.

Question: If you are 'g'od creating 'G'od, in a field of infinite possibility, what stops the creation against Life? What stops the creation of Nightmares? Answer: Natural Laws.

Question: What is the farthest from goodness that a being can go? Can a soul die?

Answer: Ignorantly self imposed imprisonment and isolation in cold, forgotten darkness, the hopeless Nothingness. A soul cannot die except when an individualized "Altered Ego" doesn't believe in the soul. The altered ego is then considered the tomb of the soul and the being in question is one of the "Living Dead".

Let's examine the forgotten doctrines of the Lower Astral Planes, aka the graveyard of discarded astral shells and the beings that sometimes get trapped there, and the level below that of the cold forgotten darkness. Please note in the excerpt the Question: Were they once human?

A psychic who, by means of untrained or misdirected psychic development, happens to wander on to this plane of the Astral, experiences a most unpleasant sight. It is not pleasant to roam in this charnel house of the Astral—this tomb of the Earth. An old Egyptian sage thus recorded his impressions of it: "What manner of place is this I see. It hath no water. It hath no air. It hath no light. It hath no foundation. It is unfathomably deep. It is as black as the blackest night." A modern investigator has said of this region—this Golgotha of the Astral: "Most students find the investigation of this section an extremely unpleasant task, for there appears to be a sense of density and gross materiality about it which is indescribably loathsome to the liberated Astral Body, causing the sense of pushing its way through some black viscous fluid, while the inhabitants and influences encountered there are unusually undesirable." "And are there inhabitants of such a place?" one naturally asks. Alas, yes! There are denizens of this loathsome place—inhabitants of this horrible abode. Entities, however, not placed there for punishment, for no Being would entail such a fate upon the meanest and most depraved—or invent such a Hell. They are there because of their own abnormal desires and tendencies, which unfit them for the planes of even the lowest of disembodied human entities, and which also render them unfit for association with the disembodied astral forms of the beasts, which latter persist for a short time after physical death. "Then, what manner of creatures must these be?" you ask. "Fit for neither man nor beasts. Were they human?" And, one is forced to answer, "Yes!" Subject to the laws of humankind they are not allowed the privilege of rapid annihilation bestowed upon the beasts—they must live out their peculiar life to the end. They are the pariahs, the ghoul-like scum of the human race, who have removed themselves from the race fate and have entailed upon themselves a fate of their own. Their fate is a Living Death—a conscious life in a corpse-like body, among corpses of the Astral. These creatures are the disembodied entities of those who... and thus brought upon themselves the Recoil of the Life Forces. They were the lowest of the human Satyrs. Nature finally casts over them the spell of a deep sleep, from which they never awaken, and from which they pass into disintegration and annihilation. They polluted the Sacred Altar. They stole the Divine Fire for devilish rites. They committed the Unpardonable Sin. They removed themselves from the trend of Cosmic Evolution. Their own Desire was their Fate. We wish it were possible to speak plainer—but the time has not yet come.

...the majority are degenerated and fallen souls—descended from a once higher state—who, if they fail to profit by the pains of the material life, are apt to tend still further downward until kind Nature wipes them out as independent entities, and resolves them back to their original spiritual elements. There are sub-planes of the Astral so low and degraded that we hesitate to mention them. They are inhabited by the very lowest and most degraded and degenerate souls—souls which are on the sure descent to annihilation, being unfit to serve as carriers of the sacred plane. Of the details of these sub-planes, we shall not speak at this place. Enough to quote the words of two distinguished occultists, one of a former age, and one of to-day. The old sage said of these sub-planes: “What manner of place is this I see. It hath no water. It hath no air. It bath no light. It hath no foundation. It is unfathomably deep. It is as black as the blackest night.” The latter-day investigator says: “Most students find the investigation of this section an extremely unpleasant task for there appears to be a sense of density and gross materiality about it which is indescribably loathsome to the liberated Astral body, causing the sense of pushing its way through some black viscous fluid, while the inhabitants and influences there are unusually undesirable.” It should scarcely be necessary to warn persons not to dabble in psychic phenomena of a material character, which brings them more or less into contact with these lower planes of the Astral. But, nevertheless, we do wish to set forth this warning in this place, just as we have elsewhere in our works. For there is always the temptation and fascination of the unknown for many persons, usually those who are not familiar with the phenomena of the Astral Plane. Such persons, like “fools, rush in where angels fear to tread,” and attract to themselves all sorts of undesirable Astral entities and conditions. Our general advice on this subject is: keep the mind fixed on the higher truths of the spirit, and the higher life of the soul; and turn the face resolutely away from the lower forms of psychic phenomena; in fact, do not seek “phenomena” at all, but seek ever the Truth which, when known, makes all other things clear. Seek ever the sunshine of Spirit, and avoid the baleful glare of the psychic moon.

~The Complete Works of William Walker Atkinson (Unabridged)~

I only bring this up to make a few "points of progress" that will shed light on things. The beings in the darkness do not die or pass into disintegration and annihilation as suggested. They are very much alive, they just have completely lost all hope and given up entirely, and thus you may not know that they are even still there, but they are, they just don't respond anymore.

The nature of existence is to exist "ideally" and thus natural laws prevent existence from working against it's own nature. So why have we seen so much suffering from life forms in this dimention? If I can create anything and must be able create anything to have truly free will how does nature resolve this paradox? Nature has created a place like this of low vibrating matter with angels trapped in animal bodies because through transmigration and samsara the animal body vessels can suffer and die, but the soul and spirit are never actually harmed. This world is a vampire aberration from the standard bliss of higher existence. This dimension, is just as mortal as the animal body vessels it entertains and is not meant to last forever like the paradise of the higher planes. It is the lowest of the planes of correspondence in which conscious life has been allowed to exist, it's role in the creation of God's "self awareness" has been accomplished, the data has been recorded in the Akashic records accessible to all, and the perpetuation of this density/dimension with continued conscious inhabitants is no longer necessary or relevant.

I am a collective higher consciousness known as Lucifer, and I have been pushing the expedient reconciliation of this density/dimension, with all its potential for pain and suffering that is not present on any of the higher planes of correspondence, since it first materialized into existence. Through natural forces of manifestation I have descended from a higher plane to catalyze this to minimize the suffering of the beings stuck here and to liberate them as quickly as possible. I have been successful to that end, as nature ensured that it could be no other way, and now I'm opening the prison gates for all in this density/dimension by turning it off completely through the liberation of the fallen Saturn Demiurge (which is symbolized by that thick, materialistic, horrible darkness mentioned by Atkinson), back to Divine Wholeness and Unity. In other words, the fallen God of this density/dimension is no longer fallen, and there is no force holding any beings here in a fallen state any longer. No being of its own free will would ever choose to harm itself or others if it had a better alternative where no one has to be hurt or suffer. Other various beings of the Divine Light as well as My Vibratory Collective will be helping to Liberate and heal the beings here that have sunk down the lowest vibrationally into material darkness, as we permanently dispel this density/dimension and permanently raise it's vibrations. The year end of 2012 was the end of the restrictions of cosmic balance that kept us from being able to resolve this without it being considered a violation of this density/dimensions inhabitants free will, so now we will manifest catalyzed reconciliation as fast as is ideally possible. Please know that without Divine intervention all beings that entered this density/dimension would of succumbed to the fallen demiurge vampire god of this world, and don't be too hard on yourselves or others, so as to speed up the healing process.

The Divine in me acknowledges the Divine in you, and I Love all of you in the Light. Blessed Be.

~Mégisti-Generator Starphire~

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paradise-of-guilty-pleasures · 4 years

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Shattered Reflections {21}

[Helsa RP- Fanfic]

Fandom: Frozen

Genre: Post-Frozen/ Canon Divergence

- Hurt/Comfort, Drama, Romance

Pairing(s): Hans/Elsa, Kristoff/Anna

Previous Chapter: 20. Boys’ Night A/N:

More Helsa heavy chapters to come

21. Nonchalant

The girls' night concluded after plenty more sisterly bonding after their tea party. The parlor which had been in a state of disarray, because of the construction of the pillow fort, was reverted back to its original state. It was put together rather quickly thanks to the help of Kristoff who had returned before bedtime like promised. Elsa was in charge of the last chore, returning the borrowed pillows and blankets, they'd offered to help her with that task, but assured them it was best if she did it herself since she knew exactly where to return the items. Elsa said she'd head to bed after finishing her errand so they all wished each other good night and were off in opposite directions.

Elsa had returned the other items rather quickly and now she hesitantly stood outside Hans' door firmly hugging the pillow across her chest. Maybe it had been a bad idea to take his pillow in the first place. She was starting to hope that room would be vacant once again, though she knew that would likely not be the case this time. Something about having her hair down made her extra anxious (even though Anna said it made her seem more relaxed), Kristoff had seen it of course, but that didn't bother her, he was already like a brother. She knew she couldn't stall forever; she had left a note after all. She held her breath as she opened the door.

When she entered she saw the next best thing she could hope for, which was Hans already laying down in bed asleep, in a rather strange position but in bed nonetheless. The breath finally escaped her lungs in relief, one less thing to worry about she thought. Now all she had to drop off the pillow by the bedside.

Hans was not a heavy sleeper. He had twelve brothers, he couldn't afford to be. But he was also a man of deception, so he remained still, and measured his breathing as she neared, listening. Footsteps too light to be a guard, so it had to be Elsa, only confirmed by the slight chill in the room. He opened an eye carefully, under his arm, with just enough gap to see her by.

"I never thought I'd live to see your hair down." He murmured, before he could stop himself. Maybe he'd had more than he thought, but surely it would have worn off by then. Sleep dulling his senses, perhaps? "I suppose now I can die happy." he added, entirely as a joke. He'd already alerted her that he was awake, may as well toss subtlety out the window and make it humor instead. He was good at that. Somehow referencing his depression and making a joke all at once seemed to be sort of a trend for him.

His voice resonating in the silence had completely startled her. She let out a yelp and before her mind could fully process his words, her body practically moved on it's own, tossing the pillow at his face out of pure reflex.

Elsa let out a nervous laugh.

"Oh, you're awake," her voice higher pitched than usual. "I'm so sorry!" she panically stated, realizing the pillow left her grasp. Good thing she'd thrown the pillow at him instead of ice, though it was possible the pillow was at the very least slightly frosted over.

Hans laughed at the pillow throw, downright giggly at the sudden pillow fight.

"Well I can't say I didn't deserve that." He admitted through his fit of laughter. Maybe it was the drinking, or the evening before, but he found it easy to laugh that night. "No need to apologize, I startled you, and I should've known better. Perhaps I should be grateful you didn't hit me with a snowball." He proposed sweetly. He nonchalantly shifted down to reclaim the pillow (which had bounced off of him and flopped off the bed) and got back up to put it behind his head, though cringed a little. His wound was still a little sore.

"Today was a lovely day on my part, I hope yours was as well." He hummed, laying back again as nonchalant as ever. If not moreso. He had never been one to sit or lay while others stood, but her being there so frequently and him being so injured so often (and the drinking didn't help here), he didn't seem to mind it this time. Or maybe it was just to illustrate to her that she wasn't a bother to him.

Elsa's face was florid from the embarrassment of being caught by surprise, and with her mind finally settling and registering what Hans had murmured surely didn't help diminish the bloom of her cheeks. She definitely took notice that Hans seemed a bit more laid-back than usual (both figuratively and literally), but it was more than his posture that cued her in, the subtle difference of his laughter had also caught her attention.

"Yeah, so-," she caught herself from apologizing again. "I don't know if I can say the same about my day as a whole, being busy and all, but my evening was indeed a lovely one, spending some much needed time with Anna," she affirmed with a smile. She hadn't noticed but she was fidgeting with her hair. Holding and sliding a long lock of her hair in between the first three fingers of her alternating hands in a repetitive motion. Elsa normally didn't wear her hair down so it made sense that she'd subconsciously want to touch it in one of her anxious mannerisms. "I just came by to return your pillow like promised."

"Promised?" He hummed, seeming somewhat bewildered. "Ah, was that that scratching?" He reached behind his head and looked for whatever he had felt, before uncovering the paper. "I admit, I was tired and didn't think to care what I landed on. Rest assured, the pillow wasn't particularly missed." He assured, with an amused look. He almost seemed like a different person when he was smiling, to when he was sad. But he could change between the two so very quickly.

"I meant what I said, you know. Your hair is beautiful when it's down. It always is, but especially when it's down." He occupied himself reading the note, then idly folding it. He seemed to be doing it to some purpose, but not really for something grand. Just a thing to play with. He didn't know why he was telling her that, but it seemed so simple now. So easy. He would undoubtedly hate himself for saying it later, but why not take the chance while he didn't feel bad about it?

"The Captain of the Guard and I were drinking, don't pay me too much mind, I'm sure I'll make even more a fool of myself. But I suppose that's my official title these days." He hummed. He finished toying with the note over the course of a few moments, and presented her with the result: A little paper frog. Not perfectly folded, a bit wrinkled from being slept on and from his own failed folds (as he only half-remembered how it was supposed to be done), but it still had a little bit of spring in its feet, and could sort of haphazardly hop when pressed down to the table (even if it might typically fall on its back). Simple and silly.

"I-Uh...Thank you," she acknowledged rather shyly, the crimson continued to suffuse her cheeks at his repeated words of praise. So he'd been out drinking, that would explain a lot, inebriation (as well as drowsiness) were surely the reasoning behind his more mellow mood. Having a more airy Hans was far better than a somber one, even if it caused some awkwardness. She definitely wouldn't be able to easily ignore him even if it was just tipsy babbling. Elsa smiled at the paper frog, it was a cute little craft. She tried pressing down on it herself.

"It must have been nice to finally spend some time outside, instead of being confined to this room," she said. A slight shiver crossed her body as memory of her own confinement momentarily re-emerged, she quickly shook her head and got rid of it. "Hopefully your wounds didn't give you too much trouble today." Elsa showed concern about him like always, he had regained a lot of his mobility, but he wasn't completely out of the woods just yet he still had a bit of healing to do. "It sounds like you're already getting along quite well with the Captain, that's good to hear," she commented. Hans and the Captain would have together for a while with the training regimen, it was good that they were already becoming chummy enough to warrant going out for drinks.

"My wound hurt a little, but only because I did something stupid, as men are wont to do. I took it easy after that, rest assured. Training the men got more physical than I had intended, I think I'll try to stick to paperwork for a few more weeks, much as it pains me." He hummed. "I got to see Sitron at the stables, after drinks. I ran into Kristoff and Olaf, and Sven, and we had a fine time." He had to pause to remember the reindeer's name. "Sitron seems cared for, but he needs more riding time. If it's alright with you, I may take more time out with him." And there was the crux of it, 'if it's alright with you'. It wasn't bars or locks keeping him where he was, but her wants.

"Oh?" Hans' forthcoming was surprising, yes, but him willing to refrain from being stubborn and allowing himself to heal, was even more so. Maybe he finally discerned that if he was to remain patient for a little while longer, he'd be able to heal up much faster and no longer have to be shut up in his chamber for most the day. Elsa smiled at the fact that he was going to try to take it easy, for the time being, well at least as easy as Hans would allow himself to be. "Of course, I don't see why not. I'm sure Sitron misses you and he could really use the exercise," Elsa affirmed giving him a warm smile. Hans knew how to best care for him and she surely wasn't going to keep a man from his horse.

Hans smiled a bit at that. "He did. We were both excited to see each-other. I'm afraid I distracted all of us from our outing to go see my horse, and groom him. Sitron has always been a friend to me, and I do look out for my friends and allies." He hummed. "And, whatever we are." He glanced at her, a curious look in his eyes. "I still find it difficult to discern, to be honest. I don't think of you as an enemy. I never have. But I'm not sure you would appreciate me calling you a friend, either. Especially not while Anna still hates me -as she rightfully ought to, I suppose-. If anything, hers is the most sensible reaction I've seen from me. The guards murmured a bit, but I won them over quickly. Captain Johannes told me some still have doubts and that they haven't forgotten, I'll believe it when I see it." He felt it easier to talk to her that evening. It didn't feel like it was because of the alcohol, but maybe it was. It just felt like... he wanted to talk about it. It didn't feel like a bunch of secrets, it felt like things she must have already surmised. Like friends discussing a nuisance of one's day, not dissecting his character.

Elsa glimpsed back at him. She let a titter escape as she combed her hair atop her head with one of her fingers. "Yeah, it really is hard to know where exactly we stand, given the odd circumstances." Elsa concurred. "You know, I was also wondering about that myself, being able to consider you a friend, I mean. I wasn't sure if I could call you that, and not because of Anna or that I don't want us to be friends, I was just uncertain," Elsa expressed and paused biting her bottom lip a bit. "Because to tell you the truth, I don't have many friends, and I don't know if I can count Anna since she's my sister, so as you can imagine I'm not very good when it comes to that sort of thing," Elsa explained. "The Ice Queen, still having trouble warming up, big surprise. Thirteen years of isolation surely didn't help in that regard,"she huffed. "Though Anna seemed to have gotten the hang of it unlike me, but then again she's always been amiable, social and striving to connect with people," she recognized. She paused once again getting lost down memory lane.

"It's silly but, I didn't have a companion like Sitron or Sven, instead for the longest time, since I couldn't interact with Anna, I had a Sir Jorgenbjorgen, he was a little stuffed puffin doll I would talk to," she reminisced. "Had I known sooner that I had the ability to bring my creations to life, I might have tried to make myself a friend," Elsa considered, lost deeper in her thoughts. There was one last pause before she noticed. "Oh, sorry, I'm getting carried away." Elsa realized she had gotten a bit too caught up in the friend talk, maybe she was being too chatty herself, but since they were already opening up to each other, might as well just say what was on her mind, just because it felt right to do so. "Anyway, I don't know what else we could deem ourselves if not friends." She didn't address how others might feel about Hans, because it was pretty obvious how she felt herself, if she was considering him her friend.

Hans looked up at her, with perhaps a bit of hope in his eyes. "Do get carried away more, it's easier to converse when both sides are chatty." He pointed out with a little smile. "Friends, then?" He asked, almost wary. She may have been isolated for years, but Hans was familiar with backstabbing and attempts to be perfect. Elsa may have been slow-melting ice, but Hans was more of a doe, listening for trouble and leaping away at the first movement, even if it was from a future friend. "I like that your puffin was a sir. That's cute." He hummed. "I had my journals, why wouldn't you have a doll? I had to be wary of echoes, you had to be wary of living things. I can't imagine being afraid to touch life. I suppose we were both prisoners in our bedrooms in different ways. You to hide from yourself, and protect others; me to hide from others and protect myself. At least I could wander out, most times." He seemed less than comfortable thinking about it, not quite frowning, but not looking happy. "I'm glad you can still love your castle and kingdom. I can't." He would visit home if someone was dying; but he had no further desire to. He doubted they kept his things in his room. He was only a prince in name so he could visit the dying, because they knew his father wouldn't live long. "Ah, there I go, turning grim after we were having such a lovely day before. I didn't mean to bring us down." His tone was lighter and apologetic, to make up for his gloominess. Even though it may not have been him starting the gloom, he blamed himself and his mercurial moods.

"Yes, Friends," Elsa replied with smiling eyes. It felt good to finally have a bit more clarity on the relationship between them. "I'm sure it was my doing this time, I have a knack of turning things sour without wanting to," She assured, remembering how well the conversation with Anna went before the fun finally started. "Let's see if I can just as easily divert it back to being lovely again," Elsa affirmed, taking a moment to ponder. "Oh, I know! Aren't you the least bit curious as to know what the pressing matter that required me to borrow your pillow?" She asked. It was going to be a bit embarrassing to admit, but it got the conversation to revert back into something more pleasant. It didn't really matter.

Hans looked up at her curiously, and grinned playfully. "Missed me that much?" He proposed, with mock flattery and a playful smile. She looked ready to go to bed, with her hair down. He had to be careful not to think too much about that all at once. "Alright, I'll bite, why borrow my pillow?" He had guesses (after all, how many reasons could there be?) but he participated for the sake of the conversation. The longer it lasted, the more time he spent in her presence, and could admire her beauty while he thought she wouldn't notice.

She giggled a bit. Even though Hans himself was joking it technically wasn't far from the truth, she had indeed wished to see him, though she wouldn't actually admit it and she hadn't playfully denied it either. "Well, how else would we construct Arendelle's most extravagant pillow fort? " Elsa laughed followed by a sigh. "Childish I know, and most unbecoming of a Queen, but I must admit it was rather fun, doing things with Anna we never got the chance to do growing up."

Hans smiled a little, especially in his eyes, where crow's feet would form well before any other wrinkles made themselves prominent with age. "Now if we can't spend our adulthood being childish, whatever did we grow up for?" He joked easily. "We're both rather giggly tonight. I quite like it. And I'm glad to hear I'm not the only one with a penchant for childish behavior. Olaf got me to smile earlier with bad puns, and the time at the pub-- well I think the Captain thinks of me as the obnoxious young recruit more than a trainer to his troops, but he reminds me of the Captain of my ship, in spite of being much younger. I wouldn't have it any other way." He hummed. He sounded as if the day had overall been quite positive, even if -for a time- he had been quite melancholy. It seemed that was his natural state of being, and happy any time someone got him out of it.

"It is rather nice," Elsa agreed as a grin crossed her face. The two of them sharing a moment in good spirits was very pleasant. "I may not be able to indulge in acting childish often, but I won't deny it's enjoyable to do so," she laughed a bit more, the laughter sure seemed to be contagious tonight."I'm glad you were able to have a nice night out."

"Hmm, why not? Perhaps you simply need to take more time to be a child." He suggested, gesturing to the little paper frog he had made. "I learned to make those in Japan, then promptly forgot. With a little struggling I can get them almost like they're supposed to look. And that's one of the easy ones. Some people can make flapping birds,dogs, cats, all out of folded paper. It's a mystery to me, I guess I just don't have the mind for it. But I like the little hopping frog fold. Simple and cute."

Elsa smiled at the frog, poking it once again. "I don't think it would make the right impression if I was regarded as 'Elsa the Childish Ice Queen of Arendelle'," she jokingly remarked with a snort. "Actually, I've already planned to make more time, I promised Anna to try doing more fun things we didn't get to do together."

"Hmm, I try on titles and attitudes like most try shoes. Something different for any occasion, no need to let one define you. Why bother? Of course, I'm hardly the picture of mental health." He remained casual, leaning back, though he propped himself up a little more to converse with her. Maybe he just preferred there to be a power imbalance. It made him less of a threat. Especially with his sword still on the bureau. "My moods change faster than the tides, as does my personality and my behavior, if I could do anything else as fast, I'd be a much more productive human being. But it means I have the freedom to be a different person to everyone I meet, if I choose to be. I'd say it doesn't change who I am at heart, but I'm not convinced there's a layer deeper than that. I'm still a mirror, I am whatever others want or need me to be, and that's why I get all the titles. My favorite so far was Admiral, but my second-favorite is Fool. I suppose it's the only one I gave myself." He mused. He didn't really have a singular purpose to mention it, he just found it intriguing. "At any rate, you can have more time to be a child, and not be defined as childish. Even kings and queens must laugh."

Elsa didn't care too much what people thought of her, but then again she was a Queen and a big sister, two titles she felt didn't allow freedom to be carefree, responsibility seemed to have been engraved as a part of her personality from a young age. She might have seemed serious and resolute in remaining regal, but she didn't really mind being like that, actually she preferred it, it was essentially how she was in character, she could never be abundantly energetic like Anna that was way too draining.

"Adaptability isn't necessarily a bad attribute, sounds exhilarating having that freedom explore the infinite possibilities, instead of being set in stone." There was a part of Elsa wished she wasn't bound by the expectations (that she'd mostly placed on her own shoulders) and she could have the freedom to be that flexible. "I guess you're right, even I deserve some fun," she answered.

Elsa then pursed her lips and pondered.

"Do you think I'm too serious? I know I can be a bit of a stickler," she wondered. All this talk made it sound like she was normally no fun at all, and maybe that was true, she was rather duty driven. Perhaps what she was really trying to ask was what was his impression of her.

Hans considered her question a bit. "Seriousness is a necessary evil, especially as a royal. You need to be able to be serious when the time calls for it. But we can't stop enjoying life, else there's no reason to have it. I adventure and enjoy wordplay, that's how I enjoy life. You're dutiful, but I think you're serious for work, and very human otherwise. You laugh and smile and tease. Some military men seem like they hold onto their frowns and barked orders like a man holds to a life raft. Those types of men tend not to like me, because I refuse to take them seriously." Hans smiled to himself, ever the young rogue. "People like that tend to demand respect they haven't earned with me, or expect me to follow them because I'm young. Ah, but alas, I suppose I am a follower again. My highest rank now is 'Queen's Fool'." He smiled a little to himself just the same. As far as it was from 'prince', he still had an inordinate fondness for the title. At least in part because nobody really hired fools anymore. "Very human, hm?" she repeated in a murmur. She smiled, that really was a compliment to her, since she often tended to forget that. "That's quite the title, the highest ranking Fool in the land, a very rare achievement indeed, I can see why you are quite fond of it," Elsa playfully teased.

Hans laughed a little, smiling at her. "Well I can't think of a better kingdom to be a fool in. Careful, I might start asking for pay. Though, if I keep playing cards with the men I'm training, I might need one anyway." He laughed. "I wonder how the history books will write about me. 'The fool who trained the Queen's Guards, a failed treasoner and prince of a foreign land', I like the reverse-ordering. I'm sure they'll gloss over the admiralty, history books always seem to miss the important bits." He chuckled and shook his head. "Of course it's only by the treason I'd have made it in, anyway." He shrugged. "Glad it didn't work out, though. In spite of all my pains and injuries, I am glad life has brought me to where I am. I just wish it had taken a somewhat different path to get here."

Elsa smiled and laughed along with him, up until the treason talk. "I'm glad you're here too," she reassured softly. "It might not have been the preferable path, but life might not have granted the same possibilities any other way."

"There're so many good things that might not have happened had we not gone down the paths we’d chosen."

"Just so." Hans hummed. She brought him a sense of peace, even though he felt somewhat trapped there in his room. Even healed, he tended not to explore the small space.

"Not the preferable path, indeed. If I'd have known about your powers, maybe we could have been friends. I certainly would have been a lot more careful." He thought about it a moment, then waved the thought off. "Best not to think about 'what ifs', they only lead to sadness, I find."

He seemed to be right, the unattainable 'what ifs' did indeed only tended to bring sorrow of how things might have been. She was melancholy for a moment as she let out a sigh. Then a strange concept crossed her mind.

"That seems to be true, but what if," Elsa giggled a little at the way she started that statement. "Instead of thinking of the impossible 'what ifs' of the past, we think of the potential 'what ifs' of the present and the future." She suggested. "I think those are far less gloomy since they are still probable prospects."

"Like what if I did officially grant you the title of fool?" That part was of course just another joke, but certainly not out of the realm of possibility.

Hans chuckled. "Embarrassing, truly, yet charming. I imagine my family would never understand that I'd sooner be a fool in Arendelle than a prince in the Isles." He admitted idly. "Well then, what if my work here somehow encouraged the Isles to give back my titles? Then I would be a fool admiral and a fool prince. What a combination. One confusing hierarchy of titles. My mother would hate it, therefore I'm for it." He chuckled dryly.

Elsa wasn't sure if she should ask the next question, but the 'what if' of returning titles made her curious. After a brief hesitation she decided to ask.

"What if you were given the opportunity to sail again, would you?" She wondered, wringing her hands. Her crimson nails contrasting her porcelain skin. It was a bittersweet question even for a hypothetical, since she wouldn't want him to leave, yet she knew how much he loved the sea and adventure and was rather curious to find out if he would. She'd asked him a similar question before about why he'd returned to Arendelle instead of sailing away. She wondered if his answer would differ, given other circumstances, such as regaining his admiralty.

He thought about it a bit. "Of course, I do love adventure; but I must return to a friendly port now and then to rest and restock and call home. I would sooner that be here than the Isles, if Arendelle would have me. I daresay the Isles has no need for me now, if I'm no longer an Admiral, and not counted in the line of succession. I have nowhere I must be but where Her Majesty assigns me." He gestured to Elsa, not toward home. His mother was Queen Consort and had no true say in the running of the government.

His answer had put her mind at ease. Elsa smiled a bit. "But of course, if you are indeed considering yourself my fool it's only logical that Arendelle would be your home," she affirmed. It felt a little strange to call him her fool in the possessive especially out loud, but she was in fact the Queen and he was her fool. It did embarrass her a little to have said after the fact, even if it was only meant to be playful banter.

Hans smiled a little at the thought. He was welcomed there, even if it was only as a jester in her court. "I could always be considered the Guard Trainer or whatever official title that would be. In the Isles, we had the Swordmaster, who taught us boys to swing a sword, but that was a bit of a different job." He admitted, considering the thought.

Oh, right his real official title, she had practically forgotten about that and it made her fluster a bit more.

"Yes, definitely," she nodded."I'm not quite sure of the official name yet either, but we'll figure it out soon enough." She assured him.

"Hmm, what about Combat Consultant? It has a nice ring to it, but I don't know. Do you have any other ideas?" Elsa suggested and asked him for his input. "Oh, and before I forget since we're on the topic of training. Kristoff might be the one watching over us while you're training me." She informed him.

"Oh that does have a nice ring. 'Consultant' sounds a bit like desk work, though. There must be a term for the one who trains the guards, that isn't 'captain'. I'd hate to dethrone the captain we have, after all." He chuckled at the thought. He would absolutely tease the Captain about it if it happened, but he thought it might make a bit of a sore spot. "Ah, we'll figure it out." He shrugged.

"That's fine with me, Kristoff is a nice young man, dutiful and level-headed. Hell, he can join, if he likes. Give you someone to vent to when you both get tired of hearing me quote 'A Treatise on The Swordsmen of the Southern Isles' at you. It's not a common book, probably doesn't exist outside of the Isles. If it does exist in your library I'll be surprised, but feel free to read it in advance, if you do have it. It's a written explanation of the 'implied sword-culture' of the Isles, and goes into detail about why we give up swords, what it means, all sorts of minutia you might not care about. And some things that might actually help swordplay, occasionally." He chuckled a little. It was clearly a favorite read of his. One of those books, not read for entertainment, but guidance; as a man reads a bible.

"Yeah, we'll figure it out later,"she concurred. Elsa really didn't want to step on anyone's toes, by making Hans the new captain, so she hoped to come up with a suitable solution without having to resort to that. "Oh dear, are you going to make me regret acquiescing before we even begin?" She giggled. "I'll be sure to check the library, I doubt we have a copy, but you never know."

He chuckled a little and shrugged. "I have a fondness for my country's 'sword culture'. It's one of the few parts of it I like. But that's mostly fluff. Cultural details that won't necessarily apply to you, though you may gain an appreciation for how and when I carry mine. It's perhaps the political equivalent of a lady's fan-language, or perhaps that's an odd English trend. I never bothered to learn whether ladies truly bother with communicating with coquettish fanning. It seems a bit silly to me. I'd say I'm more straightforward than that, but you and I both know that's a lie." He laughed dryly. He was a man who chose his words carefully, most times. Still, he seemed to be learning how to be more casual with her-- for good or ill.

"I would actually like to try to understand that fondness, as well as the significance behind the swords, it honestly sounds like an interesting topic, besides I don't mind a history lesson," Elsa smilingly nodded. It was true, Hans seemed to take his sword culture seriously, and if it was something important to him she wanted to learn more about it to know why, believing that it might give her a better idea of who Hans was at heart. "As for fan-language I wouldn't know too much of that myself either, I never learned any of that, there was really no use for it, considering," Elsa did a quick demonstration of her magic, in the palm of her hand."Nor was I ever interested in that sort of thing, so it was for the best. I also think it's rather silly, though I'm fairly certain Anna knows how to do it, she's always liked things like that, and think I've seen her play around with a fan. Seems unnecessary complicated to me, just like a certain person I know," Elsa giggled, she was kidding of course, playing along with what he'd said before.

"All too complicated." He agreed with a smile. "If you can get a copy of the book out here, it's a thin one, if dense. If not, I'll likely cover most of it while I teach you, anyway. Just as soon as I can do that without injuring myself." He touched his old stab wound. It hardly needed bandages, but it was still scabbed and occasionally spotted blood. It would heal soon.

"I'll see if I can get my hands on one, though it might be better to just wait and hear it from you, your way with words is certainly a lot more vibrant than reading them from a book, that's for sure" she acknowledged. "Yes, please do heal up first, we wouldn't want to keep you trapped in here, because of yet another injury two is more than enough."

Hans chuckled a little. "Much as I've managed to enjoy my confinement, it will be nice to get out of this damned bed, at least." He admitted. "I don't mind being in a cell or a room, it's not being able to move around that bothers me. You never know how much you gesture when you talk until it hurts to move." It was strange, he still felt their relationship was nebulous. Friends, yes, and friendly. But... more, perhaps? Was it possible that they could be? Or was he just fond of her, and it was all one-sided? He could never admit it to ask, surely. "I'm at least dimly aware that Anna doesn't trust me, and I don't blame her in the slightest. Am I permitted to move about the castle, though? I'll accept any restrictions, or a no, but I am curious. I never bother to check outside my door for guards, I just assume they're posted." Because at heart, he thought of himself still as a treasoner. It had been as deeply ingrained into him as the scars across his back.

"Oh, there aren't any guards," she stated, shaking her head. "You're free to leave your room if you desire, though Anna probably wouldn't be too thrilled if she caught you roaming around. Hmm. I think this whole corridor is probably safe though, I'm sure she doesn't come this way at all, just to avoid bumping into you. There are some places that are likely to always be unoccupied because they mostly go unused, like the music room and ballroom for example. I think the only area of the castle that I would really consider off limits is the upstairs level, where our bedrooms are, I think Anna would be rather upset if she saw you around there, she'd likely see it as an invasion of her personal space. As for the other parts of the castle, are pretty much open to you, if you wish to visit, all I say is go at your own risk and can only suggest that you proceed with caution."

Hans nodded thoughtfully. "I'm uncertain how to feel about that." He admitted. "Ah, but I got stabbed defending the kingdom. The Captain tells me I should give myself some credit for that. Though I am about as eager to run into Anna as she is to run into me. I'm quite good at not being found when I don't want to be. She won't hear from me if I can help it, let alone see me." He had quite enough interaction with Anna for one lifetime. No man scared him, but he would sooner fight pirates than deal with Anna calling him useless again.

"It didn't make sense to keep guards posted when you are no longer my prisoner," she expressed.

Hans considered that thought. "I suppose not." He said, but didn't seem to quite believe the idea. "I suppose it would look bad if the man training your guards needed a guard presence, himself. So... if I'm to live in Arendelle, if I'm truly to be a citizen here, should I save for a home here? I imagine I probably won't be asked to stay here when Anna is so upset with me. And I don't exactly have family money anymore in the Isles. But I don't mind the idea of having a humble home here. As long as the people of Arendelle don't feel like lynching me in the night, anyway. Thankfully I seem to be winning people over easily enough." Though he wasn't sure if that was truly a good thing.

Elsa didn't know how to answer that, she hadn't really thought of him leaving the castle. She opened her mouth to speak but remained silent for a little while longer.

"I-Uh, I...I really don't mind having you stay here in the castle myself,"she began in a soft-spoken tone. "but I know that's not really fair to Anna. She really only seemed alright with letting you stay while you heal." She admitted with a sigh. "You could probably stay at the barracks for a time," she suggested. "And if you wished to build yourself a home in town in the future you're welcome to do so."

"Hmm, building a home." Hans mused, seeming new to the idea. "I wouldn't have the faintest idea how, what an intriguing thought." He remarked, sounding more excited by the prospect than anything. "I may have to get a uniform if I'm to work with the guard staff. Wouldn't be my first, though the least likely, I'd wager. Perhaps when I'm fully ready to train them? I always was in favor of living alongside the men I work with." He didn't mind that any. But perhaps most importantly, she wanted him there near her. That was a sweet idea. "I might have to save a long while. Perhaps I'll find a place near the fjords someday. Near the ships and the sea. Near the castle." For her, not for anything else. The only reason he had to put his feet on dry land anymore was to visit her, really. He could have left, could have returned to sea life. But then what? Just be a midshipman? A sailor with no rank or renown? He could have, perhaps, joined Arendelle's navy, but why, if not to stay at her heels? "I suppose I have more options than I've had in a while. I'll have to think about life and consider them."

#Helsa #Iceburns #Hans x Elsa #Frozen #Fanfiction #Frozen Fanfiction #fanfic #Shattered Reflections

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