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moirtre · 8 months

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‎ ‎ ⋆⠀⠀&.⠀⠀٬⠀⠀❝ 1 : 37 AM : BROKEN SILENCE. ❞ ‎ ‎ ┉

i heard you on the phone last night. we live and die by pretty lies, you know it, we both know it. these silver bullet cigarettes, this burning house, there's nothing left.⠀–— from, “Nothing Breaks Like a Heart - Mark Ronson & Miley Cyrus”

&.⠀⠀CHARACTERS⠀⠀┉⠀⠀*⠀SOHN NARYUN, MELANIE BAE, MIN HERI, SOHN NARAE, JEONG KARIN, WILLIAM KIM. &.⠀⠀WORD COUNT⠀⠀┉⠀⠀*⠀2.5K &.⠀⠀WARNINGS⠀⠀┉⠀⠀*⠀car accident, blood, hospitalization, unhealthy dynamics. &.⠀⠀NOTES⠀⠀┉⠀⠀*⠀a closer look at the heri-melanie dynamic. narae can be found at @viriditic! one of my favorite things i've written in a hot minute. this has been canon since like 2021 and it's finally leaving my brain. i'm getting "melanie, don't fuck with me" tatted as we speak, that's gold!

Naryun feels the spinning of her head before she hears the ringing in her ears.

The disorientation throws her for a loop as her conscious screams at her to get up. To do something. She figures something is all wrong when her body can’t seem to understand what her nerves are trying to say. They scream and scream at her legs to push themselves up from her spot; all crumpled on the hard, unforgiving ground. They cry and cry at her neck to swivel itself in a direction— any direction possible; it refuses.

Slowly, she begins to make sense of the chilled grass beneath her, starting to thaw from the heat she feels is escaping her at such a speed she thought was just an exaggeration the true crime stories used to describe the hopeless helplessness she feels at the very moment.

Her fingers dig into the ground, feeling the dirt blend into the carefully manicured prettiness of her nails. It’s an ugly contrast that barely manages to shock her as her eyes peel themselves open. Even if it had shocked her, she wasn’t sure her brain would have been able to process the emotion.

The stabbing tingle of her fingers pulls her hazy attention away from the ground and to the metal on her tongue. The tang of her blood trickles down her chin so slowly it nearly itches. Her eyes can barely bring themselves to fully adjust to the scene in front of her with all of the lights blinding her vision and that god-awful ringing in her ears.

The ringing was supposed to be the worst part.

The inability to process anything besides the dirt underneath her frigid body was supposed to be the worst part.

Instead, the worst part was that she couldn’t bring herself to want to fix it. As if the warming grass beneath her had consumed every fiber of her will, Naryun had no interest in fixing the disorientation or the frigidity. And she definitely had no interest in stopping the ringing that spun her mind and made her nerves scream in an endless loop that made her feel absolutely mad with suffering.

A scream finds a way to escape the confines of her hoarse throat. Slipping through the reddened glow of her whitened teeth and out of her body with such force it rips her voice away from her. The second scream comes as a lower groan and the third is lower still. It is the strength of her whispers that finally tear her will from her. The lights and the ringing begin to still before she can attempt to make sense of them. Stillness—and her sister comfort—embrace Naryun into a void that welcomes her so gently that she doesn’t even miss the ringing in her ears.

It must be hours later when Naryun is finally coaxed out of stillness and back into awareness. Her body shivers from the cold and her nose flares as it takes in the sterility of the hospital air. The mattress beneath her is just as cold as the grass she had last felt the ringing. The ringing itself is gone, though she now longs for its return instead of the screaming she can’t quite register from outside of the hospital room door. The inability to register the words thrown amid argument cannot hide the voices the words belong to— even in her state of slow consciousness.

With a groan, she reaches for the button she’s sure is not too far from her side. The buzz of the alert is fuzzy and barely recognized as she attempts to block out the insults spinning around her head. A young nurse rushes over to the newly alert idol, slowly taking in the sight of her hands covering her ears with her eyes gently adjusting to the fluorescent LED lights hanging overhead.

“Miss—”

“Please tell the divas with the dyed hair to shut the fuck up.”

She throws in a gentle smile to soften the harshness of her words, hoping the poor nurse wouldn’t take her irritation to heart. With a shallow bow, the blue-scrubbed woman carefully exits the room, Naryun almost laughs to herself when she sees Melanie’s head whip around. Her brown eyes make contact with Naryun’s darker ones, drawing a clear path from her place between the three bodies flanking both of her sides. Her shoulder nudges Heri’s whose features twist in concern before following Narae’s eyes to the group’s soft-spoken vocalist.

“Can you tell everyone that you’re perfectly fine?” Melanie’s words are as brash as expected. Naryun catches Karin’s labored exhale as she presses against her tanned temples.

“What- what are you talking about?” Naryun shallowly chokes out, coughing hoarsely before Will raises a bottle of water to her lips. It is at that moment that Naryun realizes her right hand is bandaged up, thumb set in its place, a stark contrast drawn between the forced restraints keeping her in place and the impatient pacing Melanie charts in front of Naryun’s hospital bed.

“Karin and I think that it would be best if you—and the rest of the group take a break from any public activities-” Will, the parent company’s PR representative is cut off by a bright-eyed Australian accent.

Melanie cuts into his words, inserting her thoughts into the conversation.

“Which is overkill because you’re fine, right?”

There’s a hidden force beneath Melanie’s words, one that Naryun is sure only she and Heri pick up on between the five people occupying the sterile room. Naryun’s eyebrows furrow as the boom of Melanie’s voice pounds against her temples. She’s much louder than Will is, more forceful, much less gentle.

“Melanie,” Karin speaks up with a warning. Her gentle stiffness contradicts Will’s all-around gentleness.

If she had even the slightest clue what Melanie was so worked up about Naryun might have even found the tension a bit humorous. But with Narae’s controlled anxiety and Heri’s flat-out anxiety, Naryun can’t help but find herself bothered by Melanie’s bluntness.

“I- I don’t..” She draws out, eyes closing as she grows frustrated with her brain which can’t seem to remember why she has a headache or why she’s in a garish white gown. Narae releases a controlled breath through her nose, taking a step towards Naryun the others in the room wouldn’t dare to.

“You were in an accident, bear.”

Bear. Her words are so gentle and so direct that it takes Naryun a moment to piece everything back together. Her twin sister’s hands softly tug at Naryun’s chestnut hair, eyes communicating much more than those nearly harmless five words.

“Car?” She whispers, unable to tear her eyes away from her sister’s. With a nod so quaint the other three miss it completely, Narae’s eyes lock onto Melanie’s figure, signaling all her sister needed to know at the moment.

Naryun swallows slowly bringing Will to draw closer, offering another needed sip of water. He begins to speak once more as he watches her drink from the bottle in his hand.

“We want to give you as much time as you need. I’ve spoken to the others, their priority is your recovery. Nothing happens without your word, Naryun.”

His calming tone does nothing to ease Naryun’s gradually quickening heart. Nothing could calm her heart when Melanie’s eyes blaze with a fierceness Naryun is much too familiar with.

Karin is the next to step forward. Motherly hands reach to envelop Naryun’s damaged ones in her own. “Take some time, go back home. We’ll circle back in a few months, okay?”

Naryun nods, incredulous as she takes in the two executives’ words while simultaneously trying to decipher Melanie’s stony expression as she leans against the frame of the door. A few moments of silence allow Naryun the clarity to finally voice her thoughts.

“What’s wrong with you?” Her two groupmates seem shocked by her lack of filter. The most conscious member pulled into a state of bluntness. A state that perfectly aligns with the bruising injuries that decorate her skin.

Melanie’s raised eyebrows illustrate her perplexion, releasing a much gentler, “Me?”, in response to Naryun’s frankness. Receiving a nod in confirmation, she sighs with her head hanging in what a stranger would view as shame. Naryun knows better than to believe the act so she waits in silence, eyes unbudging from Melanie’s figure.

She parts her lips to answer before quickly closing them. She repeats the action once more before finally pushing herself up to pace closer to the pale vocalist.

“Sunny-”

“Melanie, don’t fuck with me right now.”

Their eyes lock in a stare. Heri shifts uncomfortably in her spot. Karin’s hand reaches to massage her temples once more.

Melanie’s jaw clenches. “Naryun,” She tests out to begin. “You- I’ve been working really hard on my album, you know that better than anyone.” The switch in her word choice tells Naryun exactly where she was going.

Still, a little part of her wants to give her the benefit of the doubt, nodding twice to give her the okay to continue.

“If I wait on this, I risk missing my window-”

“Your window?” Narae scoffs. Will sighs. Karin remains silent.

Ignoring her completely Melanie continues. “A December release date. It’s perfect, you know that right?”

Naryun can’t help but blink up at the older girl. The silence in the room is thick, nearly strangling Melanie whose eyes have yet to let go of the fierceness Naryun despised. She struggles to find the words as her head continues to pound, louder than before, in response to the plea Melanie presents her with. Instead of responding, her head turns to face Heri whose eyes are fixated on the ground. Her bangs cover her face as she all but fades into the distant background of the tense conversation.

“Heri,” Naryun speaks up, grasping the attention of the younger girl.

“What do you think?”

Naryun feels her heartbreak at the vulnerability in Heri’s eyes. Her head shakes in a desperate plea to remain without a voice. This time it is Melanie who scoffs. Will sighs again. And Karin’s eyes roll so subtly that Naryun knows she’s hit a vein.

“I’m asking you what you think, Heri.” A little more forceful this time, Heri’s eyes close in discomfort as if wishing reality—or herself— to disappear.

She whispers lowly, “I can’t.”

Naryun’s eyes blaze as she whips her head towards Melanie. The blonde meets her eyes in challenge, a smirk reaching her own as her arms fold one over another.

“Heri.” Narae is the one to speak up this time. Melanie keeps staring at Naryun.

“It’s not fair!” She finally exclaims, cracking under the pressure of the three older idols. Her eyes continue to shy away from any eye contact, fixed to the floor as she hugs herself in self-comfort. Naryun holds her gaze on Melanie, urging the youngest girl to continue, “What’s not fair, Heri?”

Heri hesitates this time, chewing at her lip as it quivers in discomfort. Tears threaten to break at the surface before she finally finds the strength to look up from her found comfort on the floor. It’s at that moment that Melanie breaks the contest between Naryun and herself. Faux gentleness floods her eyes as the twins look on incredulously. Not yet understanding what was soon to occur, Narae turns to face Naryun whose jaw is set in a low anger.

“What’s not fair, Heri?” Melanie’s voice, echoing Naryun’s words, oozed with honeyed care. Her eyes warm with a comfort that only Heri can see. It’s that same comfort that finally draws the words out of Heri’s mouth.

“It’s not fair to Melanie.”

Karin and Will are shocked into silence as Narae struggles to contain her amazement. Naryun, who already knew what the girl’s next words would be, doesn’t react. Her breathing is even for the first time since she woke up, and her eyes stare straight ahead, through Karin and Will who struggle to believe Heri’s words.

Narae is the first to speak up.

“Is this a joke to you?”

Her voice cuts through the silence, aimed at Heri who refuses to look up at her, eyes back to their comfort spot on the floor.

“You cannot be serious.” Narae scoffs, turning to leave the room. Her footsteps are heavy as her cloud of disappointment follows her through the door of the hospital room.

“Melanie can have her album then. Since Heri thinks it’s unfair… Melanie can have her album. That’s fine.” Naryun’s words are curt, delivered with a level of restraint that manages to astonish even Melanie. Sensing the protests fighting to tumble from Will’s lips, Naryun eyes him with an air of decisiveness.

Karin, ever the businesswoman, clears her throat and turns to face Melanie.

“I’ll see that everything is finalized. I’m looking forward to hearing it.” Her lips purse in obvious disappointment as she carefully eyes Heri whose bowed head causes her hair to fall over her face once again. With a shake of her head, she exits the room.

Will, who says nothing, follows behind her, his phone pressed to his ear with seasoned speed.

Melanie reaches for Naryun’s hand, holding it so warmly that Naryun almost begins to understand Heri’s cowardice.

“I’ll be thinking about you the whole time. Thank you, hun.”

Her accent creeps into her pronunciation in a way that Naryun finds ironic considering her false sincerity. She glides out of the room with an ease that leaves Naryun numb with anger.

Heri turns to leave the room without a word of comfort. Head hanging low as she drags her feet across the gray vinyl flooring, following Melanie so predictably it finally draws a scoff out of Naryun. Stopping in her tracks, Heri looks up at the hospitalized vocalist. Naryun watches in distaste as a tear falls from Heri’s eyes leaving a wet path along her sunken cheeks.

“Do me a favor?” Heri speaks up cautiously.

Naryun doesn’t respond.

“Please don’t tell the others what I said.”

The edge of Naryun’s mouth twitches in response. Her nose flares as she tries, and fails, to contain herself.

“Do me a favor?” Naryun echoes her words.

She takes a deep breath as the pounding in her head finally clears and her voice returns to its full strength. A rush of will surges through her as she pushes herself up to her full height. Their eyes meet for the first time that day before Heri breaks the hold, another tear falling from her eyes.

“Let me know what her dick tastes like when she finally fucks you.”

Heri doesn’t respond.

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lol-jackles · 1 year

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Yes, Jensen and Jared were awesome in that scene.

But talk a little (or a lot) about Misha's defining performance as the third wheel. 🤣🤣

😁

Director: Okay Misha, have you seen the meme that goes, "The Awkward Moment When You Realized You're The Third Wheel" ?

Misha: Oh yeah, it's my favorite memes, those losers always make me feel better about myself.

Director: Great, keep that loser in mind.

Misha: Sure...wait, what?

Director: Third wheel loser, action!

Misha: *tells himself that even Harry Potter was a third wheel*

Director: This isn't working. Okay Misha, how about this. Think back when you first learned that Jared isn't leaving Supernatural after this season. And action!

Misha: Wait. What!?

Director: Cut. Okay let's instead try 5 minutes after you learned that Jared is staying on in for season 15 and you're not getting that promotion. And action!

Misha: *stewing bitter resentment and disappointment*

Director: Cut. Okay this shot will work.

#Supernatural #fake transcripts #castiel #Misha collins

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je-lurk · 6 months

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Spy’s Tongue curse is a curse working on humanoids so that, when two or more individuals agree, they can’t name the people they made the deal with. (Brennan hasn’t been very explicit so I’m unsure if you can choose to leave the name of some co-conspirators out of the area of effect of the curse, but that’s beside the point.)

This spell predates at least Senior Year, since Kalina needed it modified to work for non humanoid beings.

The reason for this modification is one of the following (although with little bearing on the point I’m trying to make, but it might be important to map it out):

A - she needed the fiends at Hotel Cavalier not to rat on her. Although she appears as a Tabaxi during fhsy, a humanoid species, it seems that her original form is a full cat which might impact the spell;

B - maybe some fiends were non humanoids, and she needed them not to rat;

C - something else entirely (a deal with a non humanoid god for example? — unlikely);

D - a combination of answers.

It would not be outside the realm of possibility for a humanoid god to fake its own death, using this spell and the help of some loyal followers, and disappear off the face of the Astral Plane. Perhaps painstakingly mention by mention fake an Obliviati Mori would do the trick? (I’ll write an addendum on the subject tomorrow when I’ll have my computer and my ctrl+f’s).

Or fake its death to impersonate an other god (looking at you, Sol, you suspect bitch) or being.

Now I’m lacking a solid why, to boost this conspiracy to the rank of theory.

It could be that Ankarna was menaced by destruction (perhaps because some sort of war or crusade, like Brennan hinted, or a god with similar attributes disliking the encroachment) and needed to assure themselves some kind of chance of survival. It could be that they assigned Bakur to their resurrection once the danger would be gone.

I’m assuming that Ankarna is humanoid, given that they married into a pantheon of humanoid gods, and are themselves a god of humanoid people.

It could be that the "impotent rage" after not having been resurrected caused them to corrupt, or it could be that they were always that bad.

Anyway, good luck not believing into a god that killed their spouse, who is coincidentally your god, and gave you back the rotting disgrace of a god you made when you didn’t know better

#tune in tomorrow or the day after for a transcript-based theory #ankarna’s fake death conspiracy #ankarna #dimension 20 #dropout #fantasy high junior year spoilers #fantasy high junior year #fhjy spoilers #fhjy

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diploma-prints · 20 days

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The Growing Demand for Fake Degrees What You Need to Know

In today’s competitive world, education plays a crucial role in shaping one’s career and professional path. With the rising pressure to possess academic qualifications, the demand for fake degrees has seen a notable surge. Businesses like Diploma Prints cater to this growing trend by providing high-quality replica degrees that look and feel like the real thing. But why are fake degrees becoming so popular, and what should you know about this phenomenon?

Understanding the Concept of Fake Degrees A fake degree is an imitation or replica of a real diploma from a legitimate institution, but it is not awarded by any accredited educational entity. Companies like Diploma Prints specialize in producing these degrees, giving them the same design, font, paper, and even the seals that accredited universities use. Whether it's a bachelor’s, master’s, or even a PhD degree, fake degrees are created with astonishing accuracy to mirror the originals.

While the term “fake” may carry negative connotations, not everyone who seeks a fake degree does so for deceptive purposes. Some individuals collect them for personal reasons, to hang on their walls as novelty items, or as movie props. Others, however, may attempt to pass them off as genuine credentials in job applications or promotions, which can lead to legal and ethical concerns.

Why People Opt for Fake Degrees Career Advancement Many professionals feel the pressure to meet certain educational requirements in their field, particularly when pursuing promotions or higher-paying jobs. For those who lack formal degrees but have the experience, obtaining a fake degree can seem like a shortcut. By showcasing a degree on their resume, they can potentially bypass lengthy academic courses and gain an edge in a competitive market. While this may be appealing, it carries significant risks if the degree is ever scrutinized.

Social Pressure Education is often seen as a status symbol in many cultures. People with degrees from prestigious universities are held in high esteem, and this can lead to significant societal pressure. Those who did not complete their education may turn to fake degrees to avoid embarrassment or to impress family and peers. Displaying a degree on the wall, even if fake, can sometimes be enough to garner respect in social circles.

Personal Satisfaction or Decoration Not everyone who seeks a fake degree does so with fraudulent intent. Some customers simply want a degree to hang on their wall as part of their personal office or home décor. Others may want a diploma from a fictional university as a novelty item or a joke gift. In these cases, a fake degree is more of a fun, creative purchase than a dishonest act.

As Props for Movies or Theater Productions Another growing trend is using fake degrees as props in television shows, movies, or theater productions. A realistic diploma from a prestigious institution can enhance the credibility of a character or scene. In such cases, companies like Diploma Prints provide an important service by delivering highly convincing and professional-looking degrees.

The Risks of Using Fake Degrees While owning a fake degree for personal use may seem harmless, attempting to pass one off as legitimate in professional or academic settings can result in severe consequences. If discovered, individuals could face legal penalties, job loss, or damage to their reputation. Many employers today conduct background checks and verify the authenticity of academic qualifications, so the risks of being caught are higher than ever.

Moreover, using a fake degree in certain regulated professions, such as law, medicine, or engineering, can pose serious dangers. Hiring unqualified individuals for these roles can have life-threatening consequences, which is why employers in these fields are particularly vigilant about verifying qualifications.

How to Spot a Fake Degree As fake degrees become more sophisticated, it can be difficult to distinguish them from the real thing. However, there are some red flags that employers or institutions can look out for:

Lack of Accreditation Legitimate degrees are issued by accredited institutions. If the school on a diploma cannot be found in recognized accreditation databases, it may be fake.

Unusual Speed of Completion Some fake degree mills claim to offer degrees within weeks or even days. Real academic degrees require years of study and commitment, so any claims of rapid certification should be treated with suspicion.

Inconsistent Details Fake degrees may have minor errors in fonts, logos, or seal designs. Checking these against real diplomas can reveal discrepancies. Sometimes, even spelling mistakes are present on these documents, which can be an immediate giveaway.

A Growing Market: How Diploma Prints Meets the Demand For those who need a replica diploma for personal or novelty purposes, Diploma Prints provides high-quality products that mirror the real thing. Using advanced printing technology and detailed design processes, the company ensures that each fake degree looks authentic, whether it’s for personal satisfaction or creative projects. The service is also customizable, allowing clients to tailor the details, such as school names, degree types, and dates of issuance.

Conclusion The demand for fake degrees continues to rise, fueled by societal pressures, career aspirations, and personal satisfaction. While they can serve as harmless novelty items for some, attempting to pass off a fake degree as real in professional settings can lead to serious legal and ethical consequences. As businesses like Diploma Prints continue to provide high-quality fake degrees, it’s important for individuals to understand the fine line between using them for legitimate purposes and crossing into dishonest territory.

#fake diploma #fake degree #novelty diploma #fake transcripts #fake GED #fake high school diploma #buy a diploma

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carnivalcarriondiscarded · 1 year

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wait tell me why i apparently jotted down a bunch of dialogue for the neighbors arguing over the correct way to say "caramel" late last night. i have no memory of this

#i went into my phone notes and was like Oh? Whats This?#maybe might turn it into a fake script or transcript or something? i dont know what to do with it!#its funny though! at least i think so....#i snickered at the ending #might spruce it up fill in the gaps and perhaps post it #maybe just to tumblr... maybe to ao3...#again! i just dont know! it's gonna bother me all day!#absolutely unprompted #why am i only clever & motivated w/ writing when im dead tired!#its very annoying #also its harder to resist the pull of fanfic #now that we have a look into character voices / dynamics #like there was enough that now im all 'oh so theyre like that then cool cool i See'#i doubt that i actually do See. i am delusional!

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genav0s · 10 months

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❪ ⌕ . ❫ ' OO. ㅤ ﹕ PRESSURE⠀!⠀⠀⠀[ . . . ]

i cannot make you understand. i cannot make anyone understand what is happening inside of me. i cannot even explain it to myself.⠀–—⠀from, "The Metamorphosis"

✶ . CHARACTERS: eun hwaseong & ian moon. ✶ . WORD COUNT: 2.2k ✶ . WARNINGS: swearing, jealousy, drug use, & fighting. ✶ . NOTES: seunghui & doyun are in my wip boy group. written in two hours instead of finishing the conclusion of my anthropology thesis, might be a little academic vocabulary-wise in the beginning. jarringly inconsistent usage of present & past tense.

There is something to be said about pressure. An all-consuming smothering that has the capacity to produce diamonds or dust.

Hwaseong loved the feeling of that smothering pressure.

He liked the duality of feeling trapped in his own head but protected by the knowledge that he’d come out on the other side.

He was raised on the adrenaline of everything being on the line— his mother’s entire career was revived in an instant with a carefully executed smile on Hwaseong’s behalf. He was performing on stage, entertainment for politicians and important celebrities, before he could properly assemble reliable memories and expressions of the rush of emotions he felt every time he stepped up into the spotlight.

Training at Apricus was a breeze compared to the level of perfection his mother instilled in him as she oversaw his tutoring sessions. Accustomed to the expectation of excellence and motivated by the tense scrutiny the executives placed upon potential debuts, in Hwaseong’s mind the only reason he hadn’t debuted sooner was because of how young he was.

Karin had a weird aversion to debuting anyone under the age of 16— the rule hadn’t been broken for a single artist under the label. He figured it had something to do with the contract she was under when she had first debuted, though he had never thought to ask.

Ending up on the survival show was a sigh of relief for the Seoul native. The gesture— he believed, was supposed to be a true show of their faith in his talents and marketability. Seven years of dedication at the age of 17 was more than most of the others on the show could boast about. Sure, he figured it would be just as much a challenge as it was a reward for his hard work. But he figured being chosen for the show was much more a formality than a true test of his charisma and bare minimum ability to carry a tune.

The offense he found in the selection of the other boys had been a selling point in his arc throughout the show. He was filmed scoffing at Sanghyuk’s long hours spent practicing over and over and over in the dance studio Hwaseong knew had the best acoustics. He rolled his eyes when Carter struggled to find the right words to thank the judging panel’s gracious oversight of his horrendous pronunciation. His teeth gritted in annoyance as he bit back insults directed at Jioh every time he hurled whatever it was he ate before his confessionals.

But none of them got under his skin the way Ian Moon managed to.

Their disdain for one another had been well documented throughout the show. In Hwaseong’s eyes, Ian was nothing more than a pretty boy who had only made it onto the show as someone else’s replacement. Hwaseong had never bothered to ask why Ian had similarly brushed Hwaseong off so early on, in truth he didn’t care much for the reason.

The two’s highly publicized mutual distaste had managed to pique the interests of the producers who incorporated the tension between the two into nearly every episode.

Genuine statements of “Thank you for the opportunity, I’ll try harder” from Ian were met with censored insults from Hwaseong. And as the distance between their rankings continued to grow throughout the first half of the series, Hwaseong only felt emboldened by his disdain for the Texan former athlete.

“I don’t get it. Yeah, he was put on the show ‘cause he’s pretty, but so what?” Doyun laughs as he watches Hwaseong’s careful surveillance of Ian’s revisioning behind the glass separating the two of them.

“Pretty sells,” Seunghui agrees, nodding at Doyun’s words, gently nudging Hwaseong’s shoulder. With a scowl, Hwaseong reverts his eyes from the sight in front of him. Turning to the other two instead.

“Dude’s a smug asshole. Trained for a few months— as a joke, by the way. And he ends up on the shortlist for a boy group because what— some middle school girl thought he was hot?” Doyun and Seunghui exchange a glance before dissolving into shared laughter, falling into each other as Hwaseong broods to himself.

“Careful, middle school girls are about to fund your whole career.” Doyun hums, lips downturned into a pout as he taps at Hwaseong’s cheek sarcastically.

“Isn’t your sister in middle school?” Seunghui chimes in curiously, finally catching Hwaseong’s attention.

“What if Dasom's part of the middle school girls that petitioned for Ian to be on the show?” Doyun muses, bouncing off of Seunghui’s good-natured teasing of their older friend. With a piercing side eye, Hwaseong chooses to ignore the two’s musings.

“He’s lucky Jaehee’s personally mentoring him,” He mentions off-handedly.

Doyun and Seunghui’s confusion is enough for him to continue fueling his own jealous ruminations.

“He’s in there with her right now, bastard—”

With a rumble of chuckling from the other two, Hwaseong’s eyebrows furrow in confusion, briefly releasing him from his ranting.

“Jaehee offered to give pointers to anyone who got to her during the break before filming resumed,” Seunghui explained with a shrug of his shoulders.

The corners of Doyun’s mouth curled in amusement as they watched Hwaseong try to run through the endless instructions thrown at them over the hours they had already spent filming that day.

“I—” He begins, only to be cut off by enthused Doyun.

“He’s not the bastard between the two of you either. His dad’s just dead, yours is a whore.”

The act of filming the show was quite possibly the most dreaded part of Hwaseong’s routine for the latter half of 2013. He concealed yawns and distasteful jokes behind the heads of the other contestants, only stepping into view of the camera when it came time for him to prove his worth to the judges seated in front of the remaining trainees.

Regardless of his intentional aversion to the camera, the producers always managed to find him when he and Ian were at their most heated. Volatile exchanges heightened into agitated bite-backs which bled into almost any mention of the one contestant that could unnerve Hwaseong at the mere sound of his name. He never thought it to be a coincidence that the two of them happened to find themselves within minimal feet of one another, entering confessionals as one exited, performing one before the other.

But the producers had never made their thirst for conflict more obvious than one of the last days of filming.

Against all— mostly Hwaseong’s— odds, Ian had managed to squeeze his way within reach of the final lineup. A final solo performance of each of the 10 trainees remaining would be the determination between debut and elimination. Doyun and Seunghui had been eliminated weeks ago. Hwaseong wasn’t surprised as much as he was peeved. For some reason, the show just couldn’t shake Ian.

“Yo, what’s your fuckin’ problem with me, dude?”

Hwaseong knew Ian had issues with his temper. It was a plot point emphasized over and over by the producers throughout the taping. He had a short fuse and a burning desire to get even. Hwaseong figured it to be leftover rage from the injury that removed the possibility of achieving the dream he’d had since he was a young boy. Sanghyuk had let it slip that Ian’s father was an abusive surgeon— an oxymoron that made Hwaseong’s head hurt so bad he brushed it off and never thought about it again.

“Does it matter?” Hwaseong snarks in response, the corner of his lip curling in his quip. Three words are all it takes for Ian’s eyes to light up brighter than Hwaseong had ever seen before. A fire suddenly erupted from a spark he didn’t know was there.

“Yeah, it does Hwaseong.” Ian hissed, fists and jaw equally tense, clenched in restraint. He glances at the other trainees who slowly begin to pay attention to the tension breaking between the two boys.

“Whatever Ian. The show’s almost over, you’ll be able to go home and forget about me in about three days.” His words are delivered with a scoff, a roll of his eyes following shortly after.

“Are you threatened by me or—” That was enough to set Hwaseong off. The fire spreading to his much darker eyes, launching him forward to stand eye-to-eye with the American.

“Threatened?” He all but spat the word out, as if an insult to his existence. “You’re so full of shit. We both know the only reason you’re here is because Jaehee wants to keep the pretty boy with the funny accent around.”

There isn’t a moment of pause before Ian grabs at Hwaseong’s shirt, throwing him to the ground before Hwaseong or any of the other spectators could react. As Hwaseong scrambles to rise to his feet from the frigid floor beneath him Ian smirks at the clear panic in his eyes.

“What’s it like to be so fucking pathetic that no one bothers defends you?” The amusement in his eyes sends a shiver down Hwaseong’s spine as he finds himself unable to tear his attention away from the vocalist towering over him.

“What’s it like to be so fucking cowardly you have to beat the motivation out of your competition to win at anything?” Hwaseong’s words are coated in venom as he returns the insult. “You’re not making the group, Ian. No one wants you here.”

With that, a blur of yelling and bodies shifting in Hwaseong’s vision clouds his perception. He barely registers the others struggling to restrain the older boy from grabbing at the younger. The ringing in his ears from the weight of the built-up resentment between the two of them culminates in a smirk that Hwaseong can tell infuriates Ian to his core.

Through gritted teeth, held back by both Sanghyuk and Carter, Ian musters a strained, “Fuck you.”

With a saunter to the door of the practice room, Hwaseong speaks up with one last taunt. “Take care of yourself, Ian. Send us a postcard from Texas.”

If Hwaseong believed in a higher power, he was sure God was enjoying making Hwaseong eat his words. Over the next three days, Ian had not only turned half of the other contestants against the show’s youngest trainee but had managed to squeeze his way into the final lineup.

As if by some sick twist of fate, Hwaseong watched the group’s final member claim the last spot in the quintet, that signature cocky smirk of his plastered across his praised features. When he catches Hwaseong’s eye from his spot at the other end of the line— Sanghyuk and Romeo providing a necessary buffer between the two with starry eyes and blinding smiles, Hwaseong can feel his stomach twist with a chill so nauseating his smile is wiped from his face. His knees buckle underneath him, catching Carter’s attention who finds the situation so gratifying he leans over to whisper a carefully enunciated, “How’s it feel, dumbass?” under his breath.

With disbelief etched into his expression, mistakenly read as gratitude, Hwaseong trends for the next week.

“Do you remember that fight we got into?” Ian chuckles lowly, slowly taking a hit from the lit blunt in his hand. He shakes his head as he remembers the moment that irrevocably changed the course of his life. He exhales after a moment, watching the smoke fill the empty air in front of his nose before slowly dissipating into the Seoul night sky. Ian shifts to take a second drag before passing the blunt to Hwaseong, sighing slowly.

“Yeah, made you eat shit in front of everyone,” Ian responds, a dimple coming to rest on his cheek, turning to watch Hwaseong as his lips closed around the blunt between his fingers.

“Shut up. You did not make me ‘eat shit’”. Hwaseong answers, the smoke leaving his mouth in a sudden stream.

“Yeah, I did. I beat your ass and made it into the final lineup.”

The younger man’s eyebrows furrow in disagreement, “You did not beat my ass, Ian.”

As he reaches for the blunt, Ian playfully hums, “Still made it into the lineup.”

Hwaseong scoffs with an eye roll, “Last.”

With an exhale Ian simply mutters, “How bad does your ass still sting?”

The two share a lazy chuckle, eyes drooping as they recall the memory differently. Rising with a grunt, Hwaseong brushes off the comment casually, “Whatever, dickhead.”

Mirroring with a grunt of his own, Ian gently soothes the younger man’s temperament, “You love me.”

Receiving a grumble in response, Ian watches Hwaseong turn to unlock the door of their dorm to reenter the shared space in the early hours of the morning.

Stopping him with a sudden urgency he asks, “Wait, do we look high? I don’t need Sanghyuk on my ass tonight.”

Hwaseong offers a snorted chuckle in response, receiving a furrowing of Ian’s eyebrows. “Doesn’t matter that you look high when you smell high.” After a brief moment of blank staring on Ian’s end, Hwaseong continues toward the door, fiddling with the door knob.

“I smell high?”

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mcl4r3n · 2 years

Text

Beyond The Grid

MaxF: Mate i think danny ric has a crush on u

MaxF: u better not me cheating on me w him lol

Lando frowns just as Jon tells him to turn over so he can do a quad stretch. He takes his phone in both his hands and holds it over his face, squinting against the too-bright light of both his screen and the white LED that fills his driver’s room.

LN: Watr u on about mate

Daniel's Beyond the Grid episode reminds Lando that absence really does make the heart grow fonder.

#dando #landan #f1 rpf #daniel ricciardo #lando norris #dr3 #ln4 #this started out as just an idea for like a full fake Beyond the Grid transcript but the prose took over i guess #i really enjoyed writing this :D #my fic

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flu5zn · 8 months

Text

⠀✼⠀⠀.⠀⠀⠀،،⠀PROLOGUE : BALANCE.

almost. it’s a big word for me. i feel it everywhere. almost home. almost happy. almost changed. almost, but not quite. not yet. soon, maybe.⠀┉⠀from, “Almost Home” by joan bauer.

&.⠀ʿʿ⠀CHARACTERS﹕DEVIN XIE feat. her family. &.⠀ʿʿ⠀WORD COUNT﹕1.7K &.⠀ʿʿ⠀WARNINGS﹕swearing, drugs, weird family dynamics, corey catches a stray. &.⠀ʿʿ⠀NOTES﹕gonna be doing a little prologue series as kind of a character study for each of the members to give insight into what they were doing before the band. as well as some of the things that shaped their choice to join the band.

Devin could never tell when her parents were angry with her. Whether it was because they were always angry with her or because she never cared enough to figure it out, she wasn't quite sure. She wasn't exactly the perfect daughter, that she can admit. But their perpetual disappointment in her never bothered her as much as they liked to think it did.

She had developed her brand of nonchalance pretty early on. Always the child who rolled her eyes while her parents gave important speeches to important people, always the child those same important people avoided making small talk with. By the time she was old enough to drive, Devin did her best to avoid those important speeches altogether. But if she couldn't, there was always a group of misfit nepo babies with plenty of substances that numbed her spirit in ways only designer drugs could. Getting high was often the only time she felt truly free. Outside of the watchful eyes of her older sisters, and their parents, and the scrutiny of her parents' high positions.

Inside her bubble of intoxication, a reality fabricated entirely for herself allowed her to pretend she was nobody for a few drugged moments. Devin was always at peace when she was within that paradise. Her breathing slowed, her pupils blown, her speech slowed with a smile that curved at the edges of lips that had yet to be touched by a surgeon. Her best friends, Corey and Genesis, called her selfish. Claiming the little care she had while sober disappeared as she immersed herself within her hazy world.

"Sometimes I start to care about you and wonder where you disappear to. Then, I remember who you are and I care less."

Jennifer always reminded Devin of a bitter old woman. Hardened by the burden of being the eldest daughter and the weight of perfection on her shoulders, it was no secret why Jennifer had always been such a hardass.

Devin's eyes rolled impossibly far at her sister's words. "If I wanted your sympathy I would've keeled over and put a bullet in my head by now. Fuck off, Jenn."

The two weren't close, they never got the chance to be. Equally stubborn, and equally stoic, the sisters were at odds from the moment Devin was born. As the story goes, four-year-old Jennifer was the first to make the very quiet baby Devin cry when her parents first took her home from the hospital.

It should be worth mentioning that Marilyn Xie was a known compulsive liar, a fact a very young Devin had been fed by her father, George, when her mother had still been a subject of her admiration.

It was interesting to see the two sisters interact. It wasn't that they hated each other. No— Jennifer thought Devin too resourceful to resent her, and Devin found Jennifer too resilient to be anything more than a nuisance. In all honesty, the sisters' relationship was complicated. Perhaps if they were born into a different family they would've been closer, perhaps not. Devin never cared much to ponder the possibility for too long. It gave her a headache to consider alternative timelines.

To Jennifer’s credit, however, she wasn't Evelyn.

"You're so fucking tense, go get laid and lighten up Chrissy."

Evelyn always made it a point to call Devin by her birth name. She held that power over her younger sister and dangled the name over her head, daring her to lash out. Devin never did lash out, she knew better than to be upset over anything Evelyn could come up with to insult her. No matter how low.

Evelyn was much too intelligent to be aloof or indifferent—no matter how much she tried to act it. Devin never quite understood the second eldest daughter and all the peculiarities of her behavior. Dubbed a "gifted" child before she could consistently perform long division, Evelyn was always "just enough". She was the planned second child, the smart one with the perfect arrangement of genes that gifted her a beauty that surpassed all of her siblings.

"My options are getting slim considering you've fucked half of Manhattan at this point."

Admittedly a gross exaggeration, Devin, and Evelyn ran in close circles. Only two classes above her younger sister, Evelyn had somehow managed to make connections with anyone remotely close to Devin. Her shadow remained large over Devin’s very existence, towering over her despite being nearly four inches shorter.

"Half of Manhatten thinks you’re a bitch anyways," with a huff Evelyn was off to god knows where. She did that often, as their parents liked to willfully ignore. For every pointed observation Jennifer made of Devin's habits, their parents constructed three more double standards to support their bias toward their two eldest daughters.

Evelyn never peeved Devin the way that Jennifer did. Devin knew better than to cross Evelyn who was much more resentful than Jennifer ever had the energy to be.

On the last occasion Devin had decided to test the grasp of Evelyn’s wrath, she had ended up with a headache. The kind of headache you only get when you witness your best friend, tiptoe across the edge of his father’s penthouse after experiencing his first heartbreak at the hands of your gorgeous older sister.

"Evelyn cheated on Corey because she’s a bitch and that’s just what she does. Not sure what that has to do with you." Stephanie had always been the most agreeable of Devin's four sisters.

The two weren't close by any meaning of the word. They simply tolerated each other enough to get along for an extended period. Finding a common enemy in Jennifer’s self-righteousness brought the girls together once Stephanie entered high school. Often locking themselves in Devin's room to smoke weed, the burn of grapefruit-scented candles mixing with the potent herb to create a smell that only meant trouble. It wasn’t lost on Devin that Stephanie would never go further than smoking. The fourth daughter leaned empty-handed against walls Devin and her friends would crouch next to when they snorted lines off tables. She’d pretend she didn’t see them, keeping guard at the door before some sleeve offered her a joint to keep her busy.

It was a mystery to Devin how Stephanie managed to fly under their parents' radar for this long when considering how defiant the fourth daughter's true nature was. Though she had considered it might be her cowardice that allowed her to coast by for so long, Devin was convinced she would snap at some point— she never did.

"It has everything to do with me. Corey's a whore, and Evelyn doesn't put enough effort into finding guys I don’t know, to fuck with." Devin sighs, smoke leaving her lips at the sound.

"Fuck this," Stephanie spat, almost mirroring the vengefulness of Evelyn’s nature.

Devin often noted the patterns of her elder sisters' behaviors that embedded themselves into Stephanie’s behavior. In all honesty, Stephanie didn't have much of a personality of her own. She was a copycat; doomed to comparisons and repetition. She was the fourth child born to their parents, the manifestation of an obsession with righting the ways they went wrong with Jennifer’s stoicism and Evelyn’s callousness and Devin’s nonchalance.

To their credit, it worked.

Devin never could get past Stephanie’s absence of a unique personality. She agreed with everything she said, grew angry when expected to, and suppressed every urge of rebellion Devin knew she was capable of in favor of the security of her trust fund.

Despite her faults, however, no one remotely bothered Devin the way Victoria did.

"Mom and Dad miss you. They're asking when you'll come to visit."

Poor, sweet Victoria Xie. The perfect culmination of George and Marilyn’s parental experiences—and fittingly, hated by all four of her elder sisters.

A perfectionist by both nature and nurture, Victoria could do no wrong. Devin was convinced her youngest sister was physically incapable of disappointing their parents. Though Jennifer praised the youngest for being everything Devin wasn't, even she knew Jennifer wouldn't miss hearing of Victoria's consistent perfection.

"Victoria, stop—"

Devin often found herself high-strung around the youngest Xie sister. Annoyed by her name itself before she ever got to hear her sing-songy Disney Princess tone.

"Christina, I said they miss you."

She often spoke through gritted teeth, holding back her words and reminding herself of her place within the family. She wasn't devoted enough, much less pampered enough by her parents to speak to Victoria the way she could the others. She had to coax herself back into the familiarity of carelessness before she could have any sort of conversation with Victoria.

She was much too sweet, much too often for Devin's comfort. And as Victoria grew older, Devin was sure she became aware of how much the middle child resented having to hold any sort of contact with her. Yet, if she felt any feelings at all for the way Devin avoided her, Victoria never showed it.

Of all four of Devin's sisters, Victoria was the only one who could ever get Devin to care. She liked to imagine her parents used this to their advantage. Drawing Devin out of her isolated existence on the other side of the world to get her to make appearances; an effort to keep up their reputation.

Of all four of Devin's sisters, Victoria remained the only one who could bend Devin to her every will and whim. Though they were frequently their parents' wills and whims, Devin knew better than to cross Victoria. She was much too perfect, too much of the time.

Devin could never compete with perfection.

"Tell them I'll make it for brunch next week."

Her manicured hands massaged her temples with her phone lodged between her right ear and her shoulder blade. Nursing at her headache gave her a moment of clarity, just in time to hear Victoria's response.

"Perfect," her tone perfectly bright. "I’ve already sent you the plane tickets, see you next week, Chrissy."

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