#i wrote this a few months ago but I need to clear out my drafts so. enjoy

[consumed-by-fandom]

DIDude ramblings warning im being silly again.

P2’s a bit of an unwilling participant when it comes to the events of Postal 1. For most of their life all he’s tried to do is help P1, whether thats protecting him, standing up for him, getting him to socialise and making friends, the usual stuff you’d do as a kid/teen. And later on in the years he helps get them a job etc. it’s never fully clear to P1 what P2 is so he always gets confused on how he’s suddenly able to function without having to stammer his way through apology after apology for things that weren’t his fault. P2 tries to let him know he’s doing it all, but he’s never fully listened to because P1 still thinks he’s a demon.

He doesn’t care at first, he even finds it funny. But when it starts getting in the way of being listened to, and he’s never really thanked for what he does, it gets to him and he acts out in retaliation. Cuz to him P1’s just ignoring him and pretending he doesn’t exist and refusing to accept him despite him trying to help, so he instead goes along with the title of being some malevolent force. Lots of nasty arguments, judgement and picking apart every single flaw P1 has. Because that gets him to listen, when he’s not being nice. That has an effect.

When 1997 comes around and P1’s at his worst, he doesn’t try to talk him out of his mental spiral into paranoia and what his brain is tricking him into seeing. He just keeps taunting and pushing him, and when the massacre does happen he sees it as a confirmation that he was right and P1 was wrong. And it makes him feel good.

What doesn’t make him feel good is seeing the person he cares for most slowly degrade and become a former shell of himself. That scares him to his core, and what makes him try to get P1 to realise that what they’re doing isn’t right and that they’re heading towards a very bad end. He doesn’t succeed, of course, and so his only option left is to just keep him safe at any cost and try to enjoy the remaining few days they have left. Forces himself to enjoy it, even if he really doesn’t.

When he’s eventually left alone and forced to live as himself he just represses everything he went through, and even when P1 comes back years later they never really talk about it. It makes him feel awful thinking back because he was so immature to P1 that he only made things worse instead of just trying to get through to him. They do talk it out at some point but even then its something that hangs around in the back of his mind as something he’s still capable of falling back into, just how flawed he truly is.

I like to think his “regret nothing” mindset is just a positive mantra that gets him through each day and allows him to see the joy in a world full of shit, but I also like to see it as a rule of sorts he has to follow. Because if he did have regrets (and he DEFINITELY does) they would eat him alive. His definition of acceptance is never actually what acceptance is. He thinks its “this exists/happened and I’m acknowledging it” and not “this exists/happened and thats okay, I’m willing to use this as a way to become a better person and heal”

Dude’s system basically works as both a way to survive and cope with their trauma, but also as a way to accept everything the Dudes are without shame or hatred. Yeah, they’re violent assholes with a lot of issues, but they’ll never be able to improve themselves if they don’t accept that’s who they are and learn to love the good parts of themselves too.

[unangelic-thoughts]

Imagine this: jealous! rafe when you’re ward's personal assistant

[A few notes: 1. Rose doesn't exist in this AU. 2. This is a really rough draft, literally just wrote it and posted it so haven't had a chance to proof read it but I was honestly so desperate that I just had to write somethinggg 3. I hope you can pleasurably indulge in the same way I just did imagining this? :)) <33 love y'all with the same filthy minds as mine)] *spoiler alert* you fuck them both xoxo

you've been spending a lot of time with ward, working from the office and his home since you got the job as his personal assistant nine months ago

he's always made it clear that you're welcome to help yourself with anything in the kitchen or have a dip in the pool

one hot day you decide to take advantage of that and bring your swimsuit to his house

after finishing up on important but boring paperwork, you ask if you can take a dip and ward is more than happy about it

you swim as he sits at the edge of the lounger, talking to you about the new partnership deal he's working on

you notice the way his eyes flick down to your breasts, it makes you feel good, he's a handsome man after all

you plead with him to join you in the water, but he declines despite the evident want in his eyes so you splash him, egging him on

the glass doors swing open and out comes rafe, his arm around a pretty girl's shoulders

he's surprised to see you, especially with so much of skin on show and with his dad right there as if this is a completely normal and professional occurence

but then again, since when has his dad ever cared about professionalism anyway?

he only looks at you once, making a point to not let his eyes wander to you again

you watch as him and his dad make small talk and then him and his girlfriend(?) are gone

unbeknownst to you, rafe heads to his room and peeks at you through his blinds

he watches as you step out of the pool, water dripping down your breasts and thighs, it gets him real hard

that is until ward wraps a towel around you, his fingers caressing your shoulder and all rafe wants to do is yell at him to not touch you

you can feel someone's stare but as you look up to where you think it's coming from, he swiftly steps away and walks up to the girl he brought home, eva, and kisses her fiercely - wanting to block out any thoughts of you

at the company event, a week later, he doesn't fail to notice his dad's hand on your lower back or the way he leans a bit too close to you when you talk

it infuriates him every time you direct that sweet smile of yours towards ward. that should only be for him, no one else and especially not his dad

he corners you later that night as you walk out of the bathroom stall

it takes you by surprise, his broad chest right up against you as he looks down at you

"you should be more careful" he says

"careful?" you frown in confusion

"of my dad. he's not a good man" his hands rest on his hips

you stare up at him with doe eyes, a chuckle escaping your lips "oh really?"

"he's dangerous. a pretty, innocent girl like you shoudn't be getting involved with men like him" rafe looks you up and down, taking in the shortness of your dress

"and what type of men do you think I should be involved with?" you ask, a smirk on your lips

he raises an eyebrow as if to say 'isn't it obvious?'

at that, you laugh and roll your eyes

"you know, people would say that you're the dangerous one" you state honestly

his right hand reaches up to stroke your cheek "not with you. i would protect you from anything bad"

"that's really sweet of you" you say sarcastically

"but i don't need protecting" you shove him and walk past him to join the others outside

unfortunately for rafe, seeing him so jealous of you and his dad only makes you want to provoke him further

so you do what any other innocent girl would do

you get his dad to fuck you on rafe's bed just as he comes home from his late night gym session

ward is ecstatic about it, because 1) he's wanted to shove his cock inside you from the moment he saw you in that tiny bikini and 2) he knows that him and rafe have grown apart and what better way to bond than getting to share the same hole?

you're on all fours, your hands fisting rafe's fresh bed sheets as ward pounds you from behind

rafe walks in and as soon as his gaze lands on the two of you, he drops his gym bag on the floor with a thud

you and ward both turn to look at him, continuing to fuck as if there's been no interruption at all

rafe is absolutely seething with anger "what.the.actual.fuck?" he asks through clenched teeth

"hey son! are you joining in?" ward asks in the same way he would ask him if he wanted to play golf

"a-are you fucking kidding me right now?" his hands are fisted into balls. if this were a cartoon, he'd have smoke coming off his head

"i'm really not. as the saying goes, sharing is caring. what's mine is yours, son" his dad replies with a sweet smile on his lips

rafe's cold gaze turns to you then "and you're okay with this?"

you nod innocently at the same time as ward says "it was her idea in the first place"

rafe stands by his door in shock but you're staring to lose your patience

"rafey, baby, can i please have your cock? please?" you plead just as ward hits your sweet spot and you gasp in pleasure

he fucks you harder as you stare into rafe's blown pupils before involuntarily shutting your eyes, feeling yourself reaching closer to your orgasm

a moment later rafe's ripped all of his clothes off and lays on his back on the bed next to you

you open your eyes when he forcefully grabs your arm so that you're now straddling his lap, causing his dad's cock to slip out of you

you don't get to miss the sensation for long however, because rafe brutally shoves his girthy shaft inside your swollen pussy

your hands go onto his chest to steady yourself, feeling his defined pectorals

ward spits on your ass and slowly buries his dick inside your second hole

it makes you want to scream, but you bite down hard on your lower lip

they thrust into you in unison, you have never felt this full, never felt this kind of bliss

rafe takes your tits in his hands, then brings each nipple in his mouth, sucking and licking them with his tongue

you're so close, so so close

tears fall down your face at the overwhelming sensations in your body caused by the two men

rafe notices, looking concerned and asks if you're okay as his hands cup your face

you nod, "just keep fucking me, please. don't stop"

relief washes over his face and he kisses you deeply but softly, a complete contrast to how he's splitting you open

you kiss him back, your tongues dancing together

ward places two digits on your clit, it makes you whimper in rafe's mouth

and as they both frantically slam into you with their hands all over your body, you come completely undone

your body convulses between them and your legs begin to tremble

you're soon overstimulated by it all but they keep going

they thrust in and out, in and out, as you squirm, completely trapped between their two bodies

before you can register any of it, warm cum fills up both of your holes at the same time

they grunt in unison and you ponder at how similar father and son really are

[closetcasefabray]

i found this in my drafts, & i don’t remember when i started to write this, but ta-da! finally wrote something. this is not a cohesive whole (nor is grief so we can pretend it’s intentional).

also this phone business is awful—almost threw it when tripling the length of this (what was supposed to be) drabble 😒 forgive wonky formatting &/or typos. (laptopless life sucks)

this drabble-ficlet thing is for @snowandwolves bc our friendship is based in wrecking each other emotionally with avatrice au’s & headcanons. also some of this was inspired by sixth to the ninth hour, from which i will never recover. but this isn’t complete despair!

—

summary: beatrice returns to switzerland and tries to live her life. (canon compliant, s3, grief)

—

a thing that carries itself

—

It is when you are asking about something that you realize you yourself have survived it, and so you must carry it, or fashion it into a thing that carries itself.

(nox, anne carson)

—

beatrice knows hans could close the bar down on his own while blindfolded on a night like tonight—not much money to be made mid-week with dwindling tourists and seasonal stays—but beatrice doesn’t suggest it, and hans doesn’t offer. he’s come to recognize when beatrice needs some company, even if it’s just a couple hours and they exchange few words.

—

beatrice returned to switzerland a few days after camila found her asleep at the arc for the fourth time.

(jillian is moving it back to her lab to rebuild, camila offered with a gentle smile—one that expressed she too was hopeful, but not so much she wished to give beatrice too high of expectations.

beatrice knew, even with every scientific expert working on the arc, it would take over a year to repair the arc and source enough power within their earthly limitations for it to open even briefly. beatrice also knew it would likely require a decade of research before someone could go through the arc, let alone explore the alien realm beyond it.

as of a month ago, the arc team is still a few brilliant nuns led by a genius scientist, but when beatrice looks at them, she only sees young women—too young to be willing to die in a holy war—and a mother mourning the loss of her son for a second time.)

before she left, beatrice said goodbye through the arc—if only for the smallest chance a loving god would take pity on her and split open the barrier between realms just briefly enough for her words to reach through to ava:

see you at home. (i love you.)

—

when beatrice first arrived back to town, she became overwhelmed as she took in the remarkably unchanged neighborhoods, all the same buildings standing as they had when she and ava left in the night.

(the ache in her chest turned bitter, so much so she had to refrain from shaking the couples laughing and enjoying each other’s company in the sunshine—ava is gone. do you understand? don’t you feel it too? the absence of her?)

their old flat sat untouched as well; beatrice knew the elderly couple who owned the building weren’t eager to put much work into clearing it out to show it to young university kids who would be far too loud for their liking. (not that ava would ever be considered quiet—she had charmed them like she does everyone.) they warmly welcomed beatrice back and handed her the keys within the hour.

(she found a crumpled tank top of ava’s in the back of the closet and, holding it in her hands, pressed to her chest, she let herself cry for the first time in weeks, sitting on the dusty floor, counting the pieces of furniture in the room that ava once touched.)

the usually absent bar owner also returned the keys and beatrice’s managerial position before she even finished asking if they were hiring.

(what about hans?

he likes being head bartender.

there’s really no one else?

i’ve had two different managers and three different bartenders come and go since you and ava left. i can’t find a replacement half as good as either of you.

beatrice isn’t sure what expression he read on her face, but he didn’t say ava’s name again after that.)

—

throughout the next few weeks, beatrice thought returning to a place so full of memories of ava was possibly some misguided, catholic-guilt-induced self-flagellation—to wake up in their bed alone, to drink tea across from an empty chair, to walk the familiar paths to their favorite places without her—the lack ached in the hollow of beatrice’s core like penance.

maybe i’m meant to feel like this, she thought, and still thinks at times, but then she remembers ava in the gold room—the only thing holy in a temple devoted to a false prophet—telling beatrice to live her life. (gospel, she thinks.)

when ava kissed her, beatrice didn’t think of sin or hell. she thought only of the truth of ava’s lips, her body—capable of flight and phasing through stone—standing before beatrice and choosing love, a tenderness the world had never offered her. it was the opposite of sin—it was sacrament, a baptism that tasted of salt as they kissed, bathed in light.

so beatrice stays and tries each day.

(we are all just trying to be holy.)

—

in the months of staying, of trying to live her life, her friendship with hans has grown into something quieter and gentler than beatrice would have expected from the same bartender who had taught ava german curses and euphemisms. (beatrice would pretend she couldn’t hear as they whispered conspiratorially, knowing ava was familiar with more than half of the swears, but ava was still delighted by every cautiously murmured phrase hans offered her.)

it surprised beatrice at first, to find that hans actually likes her as she is—his overly organized manager-turned-friend who drinks tea out of the same mug every afternoon she comes into work and almost never drinks alcohol but will sip the occasional “virgin cuba libre” when he asks her to hang out with him after work for a shift drink. hans is even familiar enough with beatrice to occasionally tease her in german, her fluency allowing her to respond with a quick-witted retort. she smiles at his amusement, and he is thrilled by each new detail he learns of her.

beatrice is grateful to be closer to someone who doesn’t owe god his life, who remembers ava as ava—not the warrior nun or the halo-bearer.

(instead, hans remembers training ava at the bar, her focus when he taught her classic cocktail specs, and her enthusiasm that breathed life and vibrancy back into the bar job he had begun to find tedious. he remembers making ava laugh so hard her cuba libre came out of her nose, the little snort in her laugh when something amusing surprised her, the pout she’d use before asking for a favor—always far less effective on hans than beatrice. he remembers ava beaming when she mastered a new skill, her eyes finding beatrice to check if she saw—beatrice always saw and always smiled back; how could she not? beatrice was a moon in ava’s orbit, and she had no other option but to glow in her light.)

mostly beatrice is grateful that their friendship doesn’t try to fill the space and silence ava used to occupy; instead they fashion it into a kind of shared insulation for them to keep warm in the cold of grief. so when beatrice daydreams over the books at the bar and something startles her back into this realm without ava, she appreciates that hans doesn’t say anything to draw attention to the way her eyes shine with the sorrow of reality, like they did the first time hans said ava’s name months ago and all at once beatrice felt the air leave her lungs and her eyes burn. hans will stay nearby in those moments, offering an ear if she does wish to talk, but far enough she doesn’t feel obligated to explain it. sometimes it’s just the comfort of someone nearby who misses ava too.

(occasionally beatrice lets her mind project ava across the bar, watching her move from table to table, turning to beatrice and giving her a wink, hips swaying to a german pop song, sometimes accompanied by a little spin as if she wasn’t carrying a precariously balanced tray of glassware. but when the reel in beatrice’s mind starts to fade and flicker, she blinks and the shining sadness of her eyes dims into a melancholy others often mistake for stolidness—when the vision of ava smiling and making drinks beside hans blurs, it’s too ghostly for beatrice because ava is alive.

beatrice doesn’t find much comfort in god these days, but she still has faith.)

—

beatrice steps outside with hans, takes a deep breath, looks up at the unpolluted skies, and finds the constellations ava drew when they would sneak onto the roof of their flat when the nights were clear. beatrice has taken to writing the mythology of each one in her head as she walks home at night. she often considers writing some kind of scripture based less in fear and shame and more in love and forgiveness. maybe if she tells the stories enough, ava will return a new testament.

(but beatrice promised herself that once ava returns, she won’t share ava with the world—no temples, no saviors, no holy wars. beatrice wants to watch the sun set on the ocean, casting ava in golden light that doesn’t feel like a goodbye. she wants ava to press her lips to hers again but as a greeting, as a stay here with me. she wants to watch the sunrise spill across ava’s face like a promise beatrice will keep. she wants ava, and she is learning to forgive herself for this—the selfishness, not her love—beatrice’s love does not apologize.)

“are you off work tomorrow?” hans asks as they start walking the several blocks toward their respective apartments.

“yes, but if you need—”

hans shakes his head vigorously, and beatrice gives him a small half-smile.

“you should go to the library, get a couple books. if you come by, i’ll make you tea but you absolutely cannot work,” he says, pointing his finger at beatrice with an exaggerated sternness.

beatrice smiles a little wider, “i won’t.”

when they reach the cross streets where they part ways, hans wraps his arms around beatrice’s shoulders, and she wraps hers around his waist—a strange arrangement of limbs both of them had grown up unfamiliar with, something that ava taught them to appreciate—touch, closeness, a human intimacy too many would never admit they needed. so they make a point to hug each other for brief moments to carry that part of ava with them.

—

her nighttime routine unfolds as muscle memory so her mind wanders to work, hans, and always ava. she climbs into bed and imagines ava teasing her for keeping her shirt under her pillow, where she rubs the fabric between her fingers.

you always liked being close to me when we slept, ava would say.

i always liked being close to you when we were awake, beatrice would confess.

she savors the moments just before sleep, when those minutes are hers alone without obligations or the weight of the outside world—her mind in a free fall. (when beatrice was a child and her mother was kinder, she would soothe beatrice after a nightmare by telling her to think of all the exciting things tomorrow would bring.) as if directing the trajectory of her plummet, she chooses ava every time.

she closes her eyes and plays the memories against the back if her eyelids, setting her unconscious mind on a path toward a kind of imagined heaven, so maybe—just maybe—beatrice will see ava again in her dreams.

tonight she is walking into work, and ava looks up and smiles at her from behind the bar.

hey, bea.

hi. she feels something joyous swell inside her, and the glassware behind the bar starts to glimmer as she walks toward ava. i missed you.

we had breakfast together this morning, ava says with a laugh, but once beatrice is beside her, ava leans close and whispers, i miss you too, bea. everyday.

when ava pulls back slightly, beatrice sees it—the melancholy half-smile on ava’s lips, her dark, shining eyes. the shimmering light grows, and beatrice feels ava’s hands take hers and pull her closer.

i’ll see you at home soon. ava tucks a strand of bea’s hair behind her ear, and she feels herself lean into her touch.

ava—

it’s okay, bea. just wake up.

when beatrice opens her eyes, she can see the night sky outside her window, but the flickering light of her ocs necklace on her bedside table seems to light the entire room. she cradles it in her hands and decodes it on the first pass, but to be sure, she watches it flash three more times—ava is alive.

—

fin

—

thanks for reading!

some rambles/notes:

i almost never write from bea’s perspective bc she’s v smart—i’m decidedly not bea-smart (nor am i ava-smart but i am ava-eager-&-a-little-reckless, so that’s what i typically lean toward). so i think i did a rewatch & felt a little heartbroken. also p sure i drank half a bottle of wine during the rewatch so that may have been why this is [gestures vaguely] like this.

but anne carson and richard siken are my roman empires, so i named this after the opening anne carson quote from nox. and i will always think of avatrice when i remember we were in the gold room where everyone finally gets what they want . . . we are all just trying to be holy.

also what i didn’t include & is in my head:

- hans & bea’s talk about what happened with ava. basically “she had to leave, and i don’t know if… i don’t know when she’ll come back” & hans isn’t sure what it means but he never tells beatrice to move on bc he knows he couldn’t understand what happened. mostly he saw them together and he’s never seen beatrice smile the way she did with ava. also i said beatrice rarely drinks but she & hans have this conversation with wine involved. the drunk cry bar staff bond is real.

- the day beatrice realizes she’s been without ava longer than she was with her—she’s marking the date in the inventory book, then she just stops as her brain does the math against her will. hans sees her hands are trembling & he just knows. he takes bea up to the office & gives her some water. he asks, “do you think your home will help or make this harder right now?” so he has beatrice over to his small, neat apartment and he makes some food for her. he asks if it’s about ava & whether or not bea wants to talk about it. she doesn’t want to talk, but she says hans can talk about her. so hans tells bea some of his memories with ava. thus some of the memories included.

anyway, sorry? i guess?

also if you haven’t—read @snowandwolves fics if you want coherent & complete(ly devastating & healing) fics:

sixth to the ninth hour is canon compliant s3 & basically ava walks through hell to get back to bea. 😭 i cried. my heart ached. but also there’s plenty of spice 😏 [ava eyebrow wiggle]. all my favorite things heh…

leave the light on (i'll find my way home) is lighthouse au. our babes are so soft and in love 🥹 i went on a trip to see puffins & lighthouses bc of this. the whole fic is incredible, but there’s this one part in the lighthouse… i think it altered my brain chemistry in the best way.

[bookish-bogwitch]

Thank you @roomwithanopenfire, @rimeswithpurple, @blackberrysummerblog, @nausikaaa, @larkral,

@hushed-chorus, @alexalexinii, @monbons, @whatevertheweather, @run-for-chamo-miles,

@artsyunderstudy, @mooncello, @brilla-brilla-estrellita, @forabeatofadrum, and @aristocratic-otter for the tags over the past few weeks. I've had a crazy month (90% in crazy a good way) and too frazzled to come up with my own WIP posts, but have enjoyed reading yours and being included.

Here are six ten moody little sentence from Chapter 11 of Basil Pitch's Diary. (In case you missed it, I posted Ch. 10, September, a few weeks ago, then fled the country.) Baz is hanging in in Niall and Dev's room:

The last time I was here with Niall, he’d told me to hold out for more than ear scritches and the occasional carrot. Now we sat on his bed with a chessboard between us. “Baz,” Niall said quietly. “What are you doing?”  “Beating you.” I moved my queen to menace his remaining bishop. “With Snow, I mean.” Niall did that thing where the rook and king hop around, which shouldn’t be allowed, and I realized he’d won. Again. Somewhere, in a parallel universe, there is a me who grew up with someone to play against, demolishing a Niall who never went to math camp.

Below the cut: musing, a posting plan, and more tags.

Musing: I've actually written a ton since the last chapter even though I've been AWOL, but for a while no matter what I wrote, Baz felt out of character. I'd write a scene, like it, and then think "but why is he doing this?" Then I'd rewrite with Baz behaving completely differently, and that also felt OOC.

I worried that I'd somehow doomed myself with inconsistent characterization, but then I figured it out: Baz at this point is deeply inconsistent. He presents himself to the world one way, he tells the reader / himself that he's something else, and deep down he's a secret third thing. And sometimes his masks slip.

To some extent this is every unreliable narrator. But boyo has REALLY tangled himself up at this point. Something's gotta give. Until it does--which it will, soon--I have to be very clear in my mind, even if Baz isn't, about which Baz is driving the Baz at any given moment.

A lot of you can do that sort of thing intuitively. I can't. So I've been building this out (showing you just the headers b/c spoilers):

This might stultify some (most?) of you. For me, though, it's freeing. When my brain isn't trying to keep track of everything, my imagination can unfurl.

"'Everything'?" you ask. "This isn't that plotty a fic." It's not, but it's already 2.5x longer than anything else I've written, which means developing skills I haven't needed before. Anyway, my BPD chart and I are having fun. We're very happy together.

Posting Plan

I pushed myself to get Ch. 10 up before leaving home for three weeks, because Ch. 9 had ended on such a wretched note. While I was happy to have gotten it up, I didn't love the self-imposed time crunch (though betas @cutestkilla, @facewithoutheart, and @thewholelemon were fuckin' heroes). Feeling rushed had me stressing and second-guessing choices that were probably fine.

My plan now is to pause updates until I have at least a very rough first draft of the final chapter, then post it all at regular intervals. I know a longish pause means some folks who'd been reading along will wait until it's complete, if they return at all. To those folks--sorry, and I get it, and thank you for reading in the first place, and I love you.

Tags and shy waves to @brendughh  @beastmonstertitan  @carryonsimoncarryonbaz  @carryonmylovelies  @creepyspice

@comesitintheclover @cows4247 @confused-bi-queer @artsyunderstudy@chen-chen-chen-again-chen

@chronicallyhomoerotic @drowninginships @dragoneggos @excalisbury @emeryhall

@erzbethluna @ebbpettier @fight-surrender @fatalfangirl @gay-at-ikea

@fiend-for-culture @forabeatofadrum @foolofabookwyrm-activated @arthurkko @j-nipper-95

@gekkoinapeartree @goblindad-emoshit @henreyettah @hertragedyconnoisseur @hushed-chorus

@icarus-n-flames @ineffable-grimm-pitch @ic3-que3n @ionlydrinkhotwater @iamamythologicalcreature

 @ileadacharmedlife @ivelovedhimthroughworse @shrekgogurt @im-gettingby @youarenevertooold

@monbons @mooncello @raenestee @you-remind-me-of-the-babe @messofthejess

[latriii]

LAST INTERLUDE ✶ 박성훈 PART ONE

SYNOPSIS. Do you believe in reincarnation? You’ve lived over fifteen lives, but your fourteenth life stuck with you. As you lived your fourteenth life, you meet a boy who seemed to peek your interest after years of being bored of living life over and over again. Your friendship with Sunghoon grew until it suddenly stops and your reincarnated again.

IN WHICH, Sato Maeji or Moon Y/N and Park Sunghoon grow strong feelings for one another until Y/N suddenly passes away and reincarnates.

GENRE. angst, fluff, fantasy, childhood enemies to lovers. Inspired by See You In My 19th Life.

PAIRING. non-idol! Sunghoon x f!reader

WARNINGS. mentions of death, illness, car crash, panic attacks, alcohol, not so good family relationships

WORD COUNT. 4K ( 4,790 )

AUTHORS NOTE. Longest fic i’ve written and my first Sunghoon work! I wrote this awhile ago like maybe a month or two ago but honestly i needed this out of my drafts so please if you see any mistskes lmk!! + left you guys on a cliff hanger cus i felt like it LOOOL

Is he alive?

Your back scratched against the wall as you slid down. Decades of memories had been unlocked, Images of places, faces, and events flashed in your mind. It was too many to comprehend in a single awakening.

You stare ahead, your parents had just burst through the doors. They were arguing again. You weren’t phased anymore, because only one thing mattered to you now. You wanted to know if he were alive.

You’ve gone through hell and back with all the lives you’ve lived. Every emotion you’ve felt in the past fiftteen lives ran throughout your body and had brought you closer to understanding of the world in a whole new way. You had tasted love, anger, and despair all in a few seconds.

ONE ✶ FOURTEENTH LIFE

You sang to yourself, your hands moved to the music as you stroked the brush against the canvas.

You weren’t bothered by anything. You were twelve and two years ago you were reminded that you were reincarnated once again. Luckily, you were wealthy in this life — You were at peace.

Until you weren’t. Your painting came crashing down to the ground, your eyes shifted to a boy who seemed to be younger than you.

“What’s your problem?” You shout. The boy turned around, glancing between you and your painting. “Shouldn’t you apologize after bumping into someone?”

“Who are you?” He says as he crossed his arms, he looks you up and down before stepping closer.

“You look like a kid. What grade are you in?” You look down, he was shorter than you.

“A kid?” He scoffed. You two stood in silence before a black car beeped from behind the nameless boy. He sends you one last glare before running off to the car.

“Kid!” You yell one last time before the car drove off. You scoff to yourself and turn back to your painting that was sitting on the ground. You pick it up and decide to go home.

Days went by. You walk alongside your mother as she held you close. You were finally meeting her friend who had been ill for sometime. She handed you beautiful handpicked flowers she prepared.

“She’s going to love them.” Your mother smiles, you both reach the door and were greeted by her friend, Sumin.

Your mother lets go of you as she stepped closer to Sumin and embraced her. You watched as the two share a moment together.

You’ve always wondered how people felt whenever they met a sick person. You’ve lived so many lives, yet you haven’t experienced this once.

You decided to walk around the beautiful home of your mothers’ friend as they sat down and chatted together. You hear them loud and clear while taking in every detail of Sumins’ home.

“The kids at her school call her Ms. Sato. She acts like an adult when she's still a kid.” You hear your mother toning down her voice.

“The problem with my son is that he’s too cold-hearted. I may have spoiled him too much.” Sumin pauses, “How did you raise her?”

“I think around two years ago, it was like she fully matured overnight.”

These conversations didn’t bother you. Your mother was right — you did change two years ago. You gained your memories two years ago.

You remember each night in detail of when you regained your memories. You started counting them.

It was a different feeling each time. Like someone had been stuffing down all your emotions and feelings you felt in the past hundreds of years into your body at once. You always wondered why you kept getting reincarnated — you wondered if there was heaven or hell because you certainly couldn’t get into either.

You didn’t want to eavesdrop any longer. You sneakily walked away. You stepped through the backdoor that led to a beautiful pool. You stood there as you notice a boy swimming peacefully underwater.

In my 14th life, I was getting bored of repeating life after life, until I met him.

The boy swam up noticing a shadow from above the water. He wiped his face and stared at you. You instantly recognize him — it was the boy who bumped into your painting.

This must be Sumin’s son. You could tell what she meant by he was cold hearted and spoiled. He never said sorry for knocking down your painting nor did he seem to care. He’s causally swimming like nothing happened.

You hesitated before speaking. “Was something down there?” You stepped closer to the pool as he swam closer to you.

You were always kind to people, even when it wasn’t deserved. You knew people took advantage of you, but you also knew that other people were struggling just like you. The world didn’t revolve around you. Your countless lives taught you that.

You lend your right hand as you kneeled closer to the boy. He grabbed your arm and pulled you into the pool with him.

The boy quickly jumped out as you sunk deep into the water. He watched as you struggled your way out of the pool.

“Have fun.” He announced with a smile before running off.

You couldn’t believe the nerve of this kid. What was he thinking? Was this his way of flirting or was he just a jerk?

You changed into new clothes that his mom lent you. Curiosity filled your body, you asked his mother where her son was.

“He’s in the library,” she told you before you smiled and walked off.

You made your way to their library, the smell of new and old books filled your nose as you walked through the area.

Although you were distracted, you couldn’t help but notice the nameless boy struggling to reach for a book.

“Do you need help?” Your hand rested on the book, and the boy’s eyes shifted to you as you stared back in amusement.

The boy let go of the book and shoved his hand into your shoulder. “Get away from me. I don’t need your help.”

“You’re too short to reach it, kid.” You stood there, you observed his facial expressions, he was clearly annoyed. “I’m not a kid.”

You quickly grab the book and throw it onto his head. “You did that on purpose!” He winced in pain as he held onto his head.

“What’s a better way of teaching a rude kid a lesson than to throw a book at their head?” You reply.

“What are you going to do if I start screaming?” The boy crossed his arms.

“Do it. I’ll make you disappear in two seconds.” You took a step closer to him, to let the weight of your words sink in.

“Are you a witch?” The boy steps back, picking up the book off the ground. The witch and her past lives.

You remained silent, the boy looks intently at your face. You have his attention. “No, I’m not a witch. But,” You paused.

“Do you believe in reincarnation?”

My name is Park Sunghoon. You remember when he first told you his name. It took him about 4 days before he officially did.

Your fingers danced on the piano. You played as Sunghoon sat beside you. You both were on the topic of reincarnation again. He would ask you silly questions about it.

You always answered even if it were a stupid question.

“My true age? You’ll never know.” You draw your lips into a thin line, and looked up to meet his gaze. Giggles filled the room as he realized he was defeated. “Right.”

You two surprisingly grew closer over time. You would come over to his house and hang out with him whenever you had time.

One day, while Sunghoon was reading the book that you had dropped on his head, he paused and asked you a question. “Will my mom remember me when she's reincarnated?”

You stared into his eyes for what seemed like an eternity, a river of thoughts passing through your mind. You didn’t know what to tell him.

“No.” You leaned your back against the bookshelf, as your arms naturally crossed as your eyes shifted to the beautifully detailed ceiling.

Sunghoon hummed while staring at you, the sadness in his eyes waning only a little as he took your answer in.

His mother was very sick, you both knew she was slowly passing. You had promised Sunghoon's mother you would take care of her beloved son when she passed, and that's what you planned.

“You know I’ll always stay by your side.” You tell him as your eyes remained on the ceiling.

“Do you,” Sunghoon hesitated for a moment, searching for the proper words to say, ”Do you like me?”

You chuckle at his words before leaning close to his ear, “I’ll answer on your birthday.”

You told him you would stay by his side yet you couldn’t keep your promise. You were reborn into your fifteenth life.

The wind blew through your hair, you peered out the taxi window as your hand rested on the glass. You were on your way to meet Sunghoon again, on the very same day you met him yet a couple of years later.

You needed to know whether he was alive or not.

The cab stopped in front of the house. You took a deep breath before stepping out, the pavement felt familiar. Everything seemed to be the same.

You watch the car you used to ride in with Sunghoon pass by, the image of you two smiling in the back seats flooded your mind.

”Happy birthday, Sunghoon!” you smile at him, pushing the present box forward. He grabbed the present, and you felt content, only to be smothered by his embrace. “Thanks, Sato.”

It was almost like it was yesterday, you two were heading to the amusement park for Sunghoon’s tenth birthday.

You remember watching the boy's smile fading as if he noticed the car approaching from the opposite side. The memories of his eyes widening and how you could feel his grip tighten like he was trying to stop something from happening constantly replayed in your head.

Thats how your fourteenth life ended.

Drops of water started to fall from the sky as if realizing your emotions. You could feel the tears start to fall too.

You stood in silence as the memories of the past flashed by. You remembered how he would hold your hand, never letting it go, even during his toughest and saddest times.

You were soaked in the persistent rhythm of the rain, and there seemed to be a rhythmic harmony between your thoughts and the sound of the rain.

You were only ten in this new body. Unrecognizable in the his world and honestly your own. You had to make a plan and grow up well.

You were determined to find a way into his world.

But would he still remember you?

TWO ✶ FIFTEENTH LIFE

Your name switched overnight.

Sato Maeji changed to Moon Y/N. That was your name in your fifteenth life.

You usually would live a low and quiet life, you’ve always tried to blend in. But, not this time. You wanted to stand out — you needed to. The world was slowly becoming a living nightmare outside, and you need to do something to stop it.

You were born into a lousy family in this life. Your father was a raging alcoholic and your brother wasn’t any better. Your mother left the day you regained your memories.

All the time spent to stand out wasn’t for no reason, you needed to survive and live well.

You turned twenty-three and you were already known in your company, you were talented and famous for being a child prodigy. You did that on purpose of course.

You became a pretty successful young woman.

Now all you needed to do is meet Park Sunghoon again. It was hard though, you realized how difficult it was for two people to meet especially when they came from completely different backgrounds.

You knew as soon as Sunghoon graduated from college he went abroad. You were waiting for him to come back, which meant ignoring all the job offers you got from other companies once they learned about how smart you were. You only wanted to work for him and his company.

“Ms. Moon.” You suddenly hear a voice coming from behind you. You turned around to be met by Yang Jungwon, the owner of a rival company against the Parks’.

You quickly turned your back and continued walking away. “Don’t you think it’s unprofessional to follow me out of my job?”

“You haven’t been returning my calls.” He tells you. He was now walking beside you with his hands shoved in his suit pockets. “Also, if I were to see you while you were at home might’ve felt like I was stalking you.”

“Mr. Yang, you already coming to see me when I’m outside of my office unannounced is something a stalker would do, you know.” You point out.

Jungwon clears his throat. “Have you thought about the offer I gave you?”

“No, I am fine with my job. I have no plans on moving to another company.”

“Come on, I'm a big fan of yours.” Jungwon pauses, “Not in that way but business-wise. You had everyone under your spell with your talents and Yang company is better than the Parks. You know that.”

“Yes, you’re right.” You say shifting your body towards him. “But he’s not at your company.”

“What do you mean?” Jungwon asks, quizzically tilting his head to the side.

What you wanted to say was, yeah he’s my last love and I want to meet him again so we could get married like we promised when we were kids. But, you didn’t say that.

it went more like, “There’s someone I want to meet.” And with that, you walked away from the man.

Jungwon at first thought you had a boyfriend at work, it would make sense at least. But, he brushed it off since it wasn’t his business anyway.

Distracted by you walking away, Jungwon gets a notification from Nishimura Riki. Did you hear? Jungwon raises his brow at this message and continues reading. Sunghoon is coming back to Korea!

You walked into the company’s lobby, greeting your co-workers and other guests. Suddenly you noticed that Jungwon had followed you here. Except it wasn’t to bother you. He went to talk to other higher business owners that seemed to be all gathering at the Parks’ Empire Lobby.

“The Park Empire Ice skating business is recruiting.” One employee says. “The chairman's son posted these vacancies.”

You froze. You turned to where the group of employees and business owners were gathered. You thought Sunghoon had moved abroad for good. Why was he going into the ice skating business?

Should you give it a shot? it would be a great idea to work for the chairman’s son. Or in better words, for your last love.

“You should avoid the ice skating business. It isn’t doing well.” Soobin says to you, he puts his hands on your shoulder as you walk up to the paper that states the information.

Finally. You have a chance to meet Sunghoon again.

THREE ✶ FIFTEENTH LIFE

Sunghoon was sleeping peacefully in bed, his blanket covering his whole body including his head. He was trying to avoid the sunlight at all costs.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Ding. Dong. Ding.

Na Jaemin was annoyed. He was ringing and knocking on Sunghoon’s apartment door for what felt like years with no response.

He needed Sunghoon out of bed, so his fingers naturally pressed the pin of his door to unlock it and made his way in.

Jaemin walked into Sunghoon’s room, noticing his lifeless body asleep. He internally groans at this sight before pulling the blanket off him.

“Get out of bed, Sunghoon,” He says as he earns a tug from the opposite end of the blanket. “Do you want to be late on your first day back?”

Sunghoon was fighting for his blanket back. “I told you to not let yourself in like this.” Jaemin lets go of the blanket and scoffs.

“I wouldn’t have to if you just opened the door.” Jaemin grabbed a pillow and hit his best friend and business partner. Sunghoon naturally shielded himself from the hits.

“How many times did I tell you to stop covering your head with the blanket? You can never hear me knocking.” Jaemin bickers.

“It’s not the blanket, it’s the jetlag.” Sunghoon bites back.

“Dude, you’ve been in Korea for over a week.”

Sunghoon ignores him and decides to wash up. He was tired, he didn’t want to work especially under his father's company. But at least he got to run something he loved. Ice skating.

“I told you we should just live together.” Sunghoon walks over to Jaemin while he roughly dries his hair with a towel. “It would be great for me and convenient for you, so win-win.”

“Really?” Jaemin replies. He was looking at documents of the skating empire. “I already have to see you every day at the office. Now you want me to babysit you at home?”

Sunghoon ignores him again, he sat down across from his friend and goes on his phone.

“Jungwon wants to throw you a welcome-back party.” Jaemin looks up at the boy, “he said you could choose the date.”

Jaemin could see that Sunghoon was visibly angry at what he said. “Why is he contacting you?”

“It must be because you never reply to him.”

“Well because I blocked him. You should block him too!” Sunghoon raises his tone while Jaemin seems to stay unbothered.

“You know I can’t do that, he’s the heir of the Yang Empire.” Jaemin continues to scan over the documents.

Sunghoon gets up from his seat in a fit. “I’ll make sure you don’t have to deal with the Yang Emipre, so block him!”

“You can’t keep acting like you are still abroad, you have to face these people soon.”

“I know but I just can’t stand Jungwon!”

Jaemin shakes his head and signals Sunghoon to sit next to him by patting the seat. “Hating on him is like hating on yourself. You both are filthy rich and obnoxious.”

Sunghoon gives Jaemin a side eye before he groans loudly in frustration. He felt defeated by his secretary.

“Anyway. I’ve looked at the applications for the ice skating business like you asked.” Jaemin says as he hands Sunghoon the applications.

Sunghoon shuffles through the applications. “You should keep an eye on this one.” Jaemin points out a certain applicate.

“Who is she?” Sunghoon questions as he scans the document. “Moon Y/N. She’s the only person from the head office to apply.”

Sunghoon hums. “It’s unusual though. She applied for the role of executive assistant.” Jaemin states.

“But I didn’t ask for another assistant.” Sunghoon confusingly says as he shuffles through her resume.

“I know. But she insisted.”

“She’s only twenty-three and is already an associate manager?”

“She’s quite famously well-known in the company. For starters, she was a child prodigy that starred in many television shows to showcase her talents, and won countless academic prizes.” Jaemin continues to entertain Sunghoon’s hears as he continues to go over who this woman was. “She also is called the weirdo workaholic.”

Sunghoon observed her photo. She looked familiar to him yet he didn’t know from where.

“I don’t think the head office wants to let her transfer to our side of the business, but she insisted on applying.” Jaemin crosses his legs as he kept speaking. “I think they want you to reject her application.”

“Tell them we don’t need her if they don’t want to lose her.” Sunghoon adds, “I’d feel uncomfortable working with a weirdo workaholic anyway.”

Jaemin clears his throat before preparing to say, “Got it. But she must be really good since Jungwon has been showing up to the office to scout her everyday.”

“Tell her to transfer immediately.” Sunghoon pauses, “Who cares if she’s a bit weird, as long as she’s good at her job.” Sunghoon smiles at a shocked Jaemin.

“So do you want her as your executive assistant?”

“No, that would be a waste of her talents. Put her in marketing or sales.” Sunghoon proudly says.

You struggled while holding onto your boxes. You were finally moving departments in the company.

“Y/N, why don’t you stay?” Your former boss says as you bow at him. “You’re our youngest ever employee, youngest ever associate manager!”

You give him a smile before bowing one more time. “I’m okay.” You walked out of his office after that.

Your former boss always thought you were sort of unique compared to others. He started to wonder if you were just after the chairman’s son. Moon Y/N is scarier than I thought.

Sunghoon and Jaemin were on their way to the Park Empire building. “So are you going to meet the chairman?”

“My father? Why would I meet him when he forced me back into the business.” Sunghoon scoffs as he looks out the car window. “Does he keep bothering you? I’m sorry.”

Jaemin chuckles as one hand rested on the steering wheel. “It’s alright. It’s my job anyway.”

Jaemin glances at Sunghoon before asking, “How about Sato Maeji’s family? Did you visit them?”

Sunghoon stayed silent. He couldn’t visit your family after what happened. How could he show his face there?

My poor baby Maeji! I should’ve stopped you from going! Sunghoon specifically remembers these words coming out of your mothers’ mouth the day of your funeral.

Sunghoon shook this feeling away. He didn’t want to look back ay the past. Not anymore.

Time passed as you gathered all your belongings to your car as you waited to get information about your new office. You were filled with glee, you were basically skipping around in your head.

You walked by your now former co-workers at your department. “Y/N! I heard you’re transferring to the ice skating department. Why? That’s like a demotion.” Jimin says.

You nod as your former co-workers all unitedly gasp. You knew deep down they were glad that you were leaving. Imagine a young woman that just got out of college steals all their opportunities in one second, yeah that was you.

You excuse yourself and continue making your way to the Ice skating department. You were tired of hearing these people questioning every decision you make.

FOUR ✶ FIFTEENTH LIFE

Here you were, standing right in front of the Ice skating department. You haven’t felt like this for a long time. It was like something was punching the insides of your stomach except in a good way.

You knew this day would finally come. But, now that you’re finally here to see him, you feel uneasy.

You stand alone, observing the sign that read, Park Empire Ice Skates. You chuckle at this. You remember how much Sunghoon loved ice skating and swimming.

“Is that him? Is that the new managing director?” You jump hearing two girls speaking behind you. “Yeah that’s the chairmans son.”

You shifted your eyes to the door and see two men walking through the door. You knew one of them had to be Sunghoon.

You rush inside expecting to see Sunghoon but no sight of him seemed to be found. You sigh to yourself. It’s okay, i’ll have many more opportunities to speak to him.

You made your way to your new office and introduce yourself to your new co-workers.

You felt butterflies deep in your stomach. You couldn’t believe this was finally happening. You were finally going to meet him again.

“Hi! I’m Ning Yizhou,” a shorter female suddenly says, interrupting you from your thoughts. “Hi, i’m Moon Y/N.” You give her a warm smile.

“I know who you are, you’re like famous.” She says, taking your hands and shaking them up and down.

You chuckle. “Also, there’s going to be a welcoming party for the new director so don’t miss out!” Yizhou smiles before walking off.

Bingo. You found easy access to fake a natural way to meet him.

The day came to an end. You made your way to the parking garage to find your car. You felt like today had somewhat been successful.

“I’ll go get those documents.” You hear a male voice speak from a distance. There you see him. You see him standing alone. This is your chance Y/N.

You were about to walk over til you were interrupted by a truck screeching its tires. The next thing you see is Sunghoon on the ground covering his ears and panicking.

You run over to the male, immediately stopping a few steps from him. You slowly clack your heels on the ground making your way to him.

“Are you okay? Do you need help?” You say.

Sunghoon turns his head quickly. Memories of Maeji asking, Do you need help? When he was struggling to grab a book flashed before his eyes.

You froze. It really was him. You were standing in front of your last love.

We finally meet again, Sunghoon.

“Are you feeling unwell?” You offer a hand to the male. He glances up at you after realizing his hearing and vision came back.

“That’s alright.” He says as he got up from the ground. Sunghoon observes you once again. You looked familiar. Who was she again?

“Moon Y/N?” You suddenly hear a voice from behind you. It was Yang Jungwon. “Oh, Sunghoon. Wow, I can’t believe you’re really back.”

You and Sunghoon both turn to the male. “Sunghoon, where have you been? It’s so hard to get a hold of you these days.” Jungwon continued. “Here are two people who keep ignoring my calls. How funny.”

You stood there awkwardly. Did they know each other? The tension seemed to be high between them.

“Can you hear me Sunghoon? Or do I need to get closer like before?” Jungwon steps closer to Sunghoon. He was aggravating him on purpose.

“You needed to speak to me right Jungwon?” You barge in between the two, separating them.

Why was Jungwon being such a pain in the ass right now? He usually is annoying but he’s being too much, especially to the man you were going to marry.

Okay maybe you are being a little delusional but point still stands.

Sunghoon gets a message, I need you up here now. And so he leaves, “Where are you going Sunghoon.” Jungwon questions, trying to move closer to the male but you interfere again.

“I thought you wanted to speak to me?” You say, pulling him toward your direction.

Jungwon raises a brow at you, “This is strange. This is the first time you’ve taken interest in talking to me.” He crosses his arms in disbelief.

“I couldn’t help but notice you and Sunghoon,” you pause, “I mean, the managing director, dont seem to be on great terms.”

“Really? What gave you that idea because I’ve known him since we were kids! I was just checking up on my buddy.” Jungwon says.

If you were concerned about him, you wouldn’t have spoken to him like that. Jungwon was getting on your last nerve but you held yourself back.

“I haven’t seen the two of you together before, but even I could tell that you were getting on his nerves, Mr. Yang.”

Jungwon couldn’t help but notice how angry you looked. Why were you so angry? Why were you sticking up for him?

Jungwon scoffs, “To be honest, I feel betrayed. You turned me down time and time again, and now you’re just at the ice skating empire?”

“I haven’t moved companies, I’m still under the Park Empire.” You shot back at him.

“Well doesn’t matter because I’ve given you better opportunities than the situation you’re in right now. It’s even worse than your last one.” Jungwon fought, crossing his arms.

“He’s here.” You interrupted him again. Jungwon sends you a confused look, “The person I want to meet.”

Jungwon silently chuckles, “You know sometimes when I talk to you, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

You begin to walk away before turning one last time, “I don’t say things for your benefit so please stop seeing me.”

Jungwon felt defeated by you again. He always knew you were quite the character but Jungwon wasn’t dumb. The strange words you’ve said finally clicked in his head. The boy you were searching for was Sunghoon.

He hated knowing this. He also hated how much you rejected him and how his old childhood friend Sunghoon has you wrapped around his finger.

LAST INTERLUDE ✶ 박성훈 PART TWO

✶ LATRII | 2O23.

PERM TAGLIST | @wtfhyuck @baekhyunstruly @strwberrydinosaur @xiaoderrrr @luvlee1313 @ensrfm @yenqa @enhapocketz @flwoie @hajimelvr @redm4ri

[uchihaharlot]

CEO! AU Where their employee is too naive about innuendo 😅

Too pure and these guys wreck her during a personal "meeting" in their office.

(Separate scenarios please 🙏)

Me dearest moot,

I apologize this took me so long. 😅 I find it hard to write ooc scenes, but then again everything written outside the Narutoverse is considered ooc. So I just rolled with it, didn’t feel it at first. Sat on it, went back edited it — added more and hopefully the outcome is to your standards.

I truly am committed to writing almost any ask that is sent my way.

I do apologize, this got lengthy. I cannot not write anything less than 3k it seems when in the mood. Lmao. I give you smut with minor plot, because I love a bit of backstory and I adore characters that have a familiarity between them or some fluffy shit like that.

(When I wrote this, I was not aware of your preference for Itachi at the time. Shisui CEO was already in the works. Honestly am not entirely convinced this is good. I would be willing to do Itachi in a separate ask, I just didn’t want this to be like 15k of figuring my shit out).

NSFW; airhead-ish intern; smut w/plot; praise kink; oral; vaginal; unprofessional work environment; sex at work; Enjoy!

wc: an exorbitant fucking 3.4k; fuck and I’m not editing it much more right now. Will go back, I just felt like the worlds biggest piece of shit for taking so long lol

As fresh blood in the world of accounting, credentials meant everything. Especially if you want roll with the big boys. Which is why when accepting an internship nearly six months ago from the most prestigious accounting firm, you didn’t hesitate to accept. It would look good on your resume and if lucky enough, you’d be offered a job and avoid the hassle of sending out hundreds of applications.

So far things have been mild and mundane.

Coffee this, tea that. Dry cleaning. You hardly even made an appearance into the conference room except on few occasions.

Today was one of those days your presence was requested. Shisui Uchiha, CEO, owner and founder of Tomoe LLC. An accounting firm for high profiled clients.

Yea, your designated boss was that guy.

The one who made tabloids left and right with his fuck you money and all. The guy who probably had every woman in the office, including yourself, humid and longing. Didn’t even have to try, and there was no lying. How unfortunate you had the hots for him. Regardless of your stance, you retained the upmost professionalism in his presence.

When Shisui walks into the conference room, all eyes are on him. Composed, clean cut and admirable. As an intern your job is to take minute notes, jot ideas he spouts off and anything of importance. At the end of his hour and a half long ramble. Everyone is dismissed.

‘Except you.’ Words you didn’t really expect, but nonetheless did as you were told.

Once the room is cleared, Shisui’s gaze catches yours. Sharp and observant, you felt under the microscope of his heavy dark eyed gaze. ‘I need your help on something.’

Which was great, usually.

This is what you’re here for. If it was coffee, you’d fetch it. If it was picking his dog up from the groomers, that too. You got to use his shiny new car, which was a treat. He made sure you knew nobody before you had that privilege.

‘I’m listening, Uchiha-san.’ Submissive and severely cute as you retained his attention. Even if unintentional, it made his eyes flicker whenever you called him that and he straightened up a bit. A smug grin on his face.

Ever the good girl.

Shisui taps at your laptop, quickly you open its notebook app, ready to record his thoughts. ‘I want you to draft your own document on project of your choosing. Consider it a ‘review.’ How can you make this company grow?’

Oh, it was one of those reviews. The preliminary ‘give me your thoughts and maybe you can have a job’ situation. He continues, ‘on one condition… meet me in my office after work. And we’ll discuss it more personally.’

‘Anything specific I should focus on?’ It wasn’t confusing, but you had the sense there was something particular he was looking for.

He smiles and gazes over you. Shisui always said he appreciated your tenacity and go-getter attitude. ‘Just whatever comes to mind; nothing too serious…..when you write this document, just remember it's for me. It should be tailored to suggestions you think I would….be interested in.’

‘Right, for you…for the company.’ You sheepishly smile back. Why was the room hot, why did your stomach disappear and leave you feeling sick almost. Not in a terrible way, but well….no. He’s your damned boss!!

‘Good girl.’ Something crawled up your spine when he said those words. Your body treasonously gushed, and it was hard not to flush warm in the cheeks. ‘Make sure to send this off before you stop by my office. It would be…beneficial for me to know before we further discuss this in a personal setting.’

A personal setting. After work.

You weren’t stupid by any means, part of you truly believed your boss was hitting on you and the other half was partial to the fact Shisui just knew how to get what he wanted. So, for the last few hours of your day, you focused on real issues within the company. You didn’t want to insult him, but there were things that could improve the numbers and have an impact. Small minute details you picked up the last few months. The document was sent off the last half hour of the day before you walked down to the elevator and took it three floors up to where the higher-ranking individuals in the company were stationed.

Maybe you could be up here. Maybe your ideas would actually mean something. A small smile spreads your face before you knock on his office door.

When Shisui opens the door, he immediately steps aside and motions for you to enter. That’s good sign, right? His gaze lingers as you take in the office that you see maybe three times a month. Your actual duties are handed down to the secretary on your floor directly from him.

A soft click of the door closing has your nerves striking flint at one another.

‘I like how you took this assignment so seriously….’ Taking a seat at his desk, hands folded together. He takes her in.

‘You’re not offended?’ Of course not! The numbers didn’t lie, you had found a hole in his company’s bottomline. Money was being filtered out. If anything, he was grateful you did this so thoroughly.

Shisui’s eyes seem almost piercing, ‘I’m not offended at all. In fact, it’s impressive. Very impressive….now exactly how did you figure this out?’

Oh, that was a toughie. It was by accident, really, you explain. Within the first few weeks of your internship, you were granted access to classified information. Unsure if this was even allowed, you figured that if a potential job was to be had. You needed to know the numbers. Unfortunately for Shisui, undoubtedly, someone was stealing money from him. He had his suspicions prior to your upheaval, but no real way of confirming without causing the perpetrator to become aware. Aside from that it was intricately encrypted, meaning you were incapable of providing further details of who.

Shisui eyes you the whole time, his unwavering gaze felt unkind almost, but sincere. ‘So, you were just casually going through the inflow and outflow. Just so happen to discover…. money missing?’

You exhale heavily, this sounded like it could backfire. ‘Y-yes. I’m sorry if that was a breach of my contract, I figured if I was granted access—’

Shisui’s light chuckle interrupts you, a sort of calm, almost relieved feeling washes down your nerves. ‘You’re fine, I admire your determination and commitment to this company. It seems I can’t trust everyone here…’

‘I suggest, if you’re open to it…. calling tech support, they might be able…’ the words hit your face from the floor. Someone in tech support would be the perfect position to lay low and hide or dispose of backlogs. Shisui quirks an eyebrow at your acute observation. ‘Tech support would be able to see behind all of that.’

At first, he is surprised, then perturbed. Tech support would be capable of seeing behind the encryption or worse. Creating it. Leaning back in his chair, he folds his hands under to his chin. ‘A smart observation….that is….unfortunate. For them, if so.’ A hint of admiration in his voice has you smiling at his praise.

Shisui can’t help but stare at you for a moment. That smile is adorable, even more when you’re not completely flustered by him. When you’re almost comfortable in his presence. ‘You’re a very sharp girl…and you have a good grasp of this business despite being just an intern….’

‘It’s nothing….really. I was just…trying to get on top of the game.’ A soft shrug is all you manage. What else could you say? Now wasn’t the time to toot your own horn.

Shisui leans forward in his chair. He can't help but notice you’re a still bit shy, reserved and overtly quiet in his presence. More times often than not are you loud and boisterous with the friends you’ve made here. Something lurches in the back of his mind; his tone of voice softens.

‘I’d like to commend you for your efforts. You’ve outdone yourself and even figured out someone is potentially funneling money from me.’ He pauses briefly, ‘just out of curiosity though….why did you accept this internship?’

The harsh truth resurfaced with a prejudice. You were bitter the first few weeks, though you were grateful for this opportunity here. Not a word back from a single firm within the five great nations when you sought them out. It was nearly a month later after you had sent out the portfolio did Shisui’s firm respond. ‘You were the only firm to return interest and extend an offer.’

This was not something Shisui expected to hear. It disheartened him and left a foul taste in his mouth. Surely other firms would have been interested. He hadn’t sent a reply as quickly beforehand. Thinking you would take an opportunity in another country. Most people wanted to leave their home cities; he responded solely on the fact he was too eager in his selection for you. The portfolio, while small, was exceptional. Organized and precise. His stubbornness made him hold off but the business side of him does what’s best for itself.

He had to have you, to see the woman behind the mind. Even if you weren’t the spectacular woman before him, he still would have hired you. He wasn’t discriminatory in that matter, only if you would be beneficial to the firm. He knew from the initial interview that you would be, it was just a bonus that you were drop dead gorgeous.

‘No other company reached out?’ The irritation in his voice was severe and brought blasphemy in his eyes.

The hardened look on his face softens once more as you continue, ‘I was shocked to receive your extension to interview.’

Another unexpected answer. Shisui didn’t expect that the other internships went unanswered, but he never once turned down the free labor hours of an internship. There wasn’t a damn thing that made you unworthy of a position here. Intelligent, well calculated….submissive. You did every thing he threw at you from silly errands he couldn’t be fucked with, to listening to him bitch about Genma’s vacation in the Land of Tea being two weeks.

‘So here I am. Almost the six month review. I was hoping that this recent development would…be a retainer for a full time position…’ the words taper off. Hearing how silly you were.

Scratch my back, I’ll scratch yours was not at the forefront of your mind.

But it was his and, well, the funny thing is. Shisui’s back, is on his cock. That’s exactly the kind of back scratching he was referring to earlier when he asked for you to come up with a minor presentation for him. He figured this one wouldn’t fly over the crows nest, but it had. You didn’t quiet catch his intentions.

He would just have to be more…direct.

A small smile spreads his face, the fact that you were just so bashful with your request. Shisui rounds his desk quickly, his hands at your forearms. Sights sharp with intent. Deep baritone grows soft when he addresses you, ‘consider me impressed.’

You quickly dial in at his hands holding you so, so intimately. ‘Why?’ Is that really all you can manage? Though you didn’t understand, ‘why do I impress you? I did something that someone else should have been doing.’ Your brows pinch.

Shisui doesn’t answer right away, he takes the time to consider you. He thumbs small circles on your left arm, as if he is trying to properly convey the words of adoration without scaring you off. ‘You’re right, I should have someone doing this. I am just impressed you were that person when it should have been someone more experienced in this company.’

‘But…?’ Waiting for it. For the let down of not having a position here.

Shisui runs a hand through his hair, the other still on your left arm, ‘this is the first time I’ve ever thought about extending a full-time position to an intern in awhile. But…from now on, you will not be an intern…’ a pregnant pause makes the air thick and stale for a moment. ‘You’ll be my assistant.’

‘Assistant?’ That wasn’t working with numbers, ‘that’s not…numbers or anything close to it…’

Shisui’s laugh fills his chest and reverberates in his throat stopping at a light hum, the grip on your forearm tightens a little to capture your undivided attention wholly. ‘Do not worry. I never said that you would stop working with numbers. That will still be part of your position here. But, moreover, I want your input on other aspects of this company. Marketing, communication, etc. a more….intimate experience at my side.’

You gawk. ‘How can you consider that from a near bare portfolio. I surely haven’t worked my weight in ryo here, not even close.’

In this moment, you look adorable to Shisui. Exasperated and uncertain. Almost undeserving. ‘You’re forgetting exactly why I chose you for the internship. I knew from the moment I interviewed you that you were a very sharp young lady. My trust in your abilities has grown exponentially these past few months, and hence…this new position for you.��

A soft click of your tongue, it was all coming full circle now. ‘This sounds like a curated position that was just made up.’

Shisui’s lips curl into a devious smile, that slips below subtle smirk. He narrows his eyes a bit, those eyes ever intense and drinking you up like the finest whiskey. That calm and composed side of Shisui is replaced by a commanding and dominant presence. Unholy even.

‘Uchiha-san?’ A sharp exhale as Shisui snakes a hand around her waist.

He brings you flush to his chest, running a hand through your hair. Drags his nose along your jaw and up to your cheek before his lips stop at your ear. Hot and raspy, Shisui’s intentions are more than clear. You notice how tall he really is, just towering over you. How much older he is too.

‘What…are you doing?’ A whispered hiss of astonishment at his direct approach.

‘What do you think I am dong?’ Sweet like honey, his voice is deep. Commanding. Possessive.

‘I’m partial to believe this is not in my job description….’ Your soft breath fans the his cheek as he rakes a hand up the nape of your neck.

‘I never suggested it was….’ The words send shivers down your spine, his thumb traces down your cheekbone. His warm breath smells sweet, you know this is not appropriate. Against policy. And as much as you’d hate to admit it.

You enjoyed it. ‘Then what is this for?’

You graze your nose in return over his cheek, the boldness amuses Shisui. How much did you like this? ‘This is part of the perks that come with your new job. If you haven’t noticed by now… I tend to enjoy your company.’

Well no, you didn’t notice. Not until now, ‘no, how could I when I’m hardly doing as an intern should?’ That was cute.

The small moan from your lips is even more adorable as Shisui dragged his lips down your neck. Delirium filled your head space, this was moving too fast. Before you knew it your tight pencil skirt was shucked to above your hips and you were laid on his desk.

Subservient to his desire, fueled by your own deplorable greed within. You could just let Shisui have his way with you, not that you saw it this way. Sex was currency, was also free and felt fucking good. The part of you that may or may not have fantasized this exact scenario unfolding was in charge now.

Spread out, legs over his shoulders holding his head in a vice squeeze. How did it get far this fast? Nose in your heat, lapping and twirling his tongue over your clit. Fingers curling in the confines of your taut muscles. Muscles that ached for it; were drenched for him. If your knocked a few things off his desk, Shisui would forgive you. This was the reason why he’d drawn you in after hours, the sounds you made were no less than a few doors in range: if anyone was still here after hours. They’d hear and pretend they didn’t the next day.

When his cock stretched you, molded you to him. He reamed a hand around your neck and pressed your back into the keyboard. Every time you came close to coming, he squeezed and stopped thrusting. Making you writhe and submit further to him.

‘..please.’ Your desperate whimper.

‘Please..what?’

Those soft eyes of yours caught his attention, ‘..please let me come Uchiha-san.’

He kissed you sweetly, but fucked you like an office whore as you came all over him. ‘Such a good girl…’ rang your ears every so often as he softly panted out between thrusts. Shisui flipped you to your stomach once you succumbed to his relentless pounding. Wrung his hand in your hair and craned your neck back to expose the delicate flesh. Nipping your pulse point, he sheath himself once more. Slower, needier. On the verge of filling your sweet hole with his genetic markup. Gripping your waist to steady your body, he whispered many things of promise if you accepted his job offer.

His bed, car and money. What on earth had gotten into this man? Shisui couldn’t figure out for himself exactly what he was saying either, but it was all forgotten the split second your salacious whimper and saying you were coming again. Had his hips steam rolling and slamming into you harder. Pumping his thinking length as he coated your insides. Holding your back to his chest as you both moaned out loud.

Surely, this was unprofessional. The entire time you fixed your clothes, you expected him to rescind his decision. That didn’t happen. Not when he fixed his tie, adjusted your skirt and covered you with his coat. Not once did his resolve change as you both walked out the dark office and got out of the elevator. He took you to dinner, paid an extraordinary amount of money for too little food and ushered you home. Opened your door and lead you by the small of your back to your front door and gave you a chaste kiss.

‘See you in the morning, ill be here at 6:30am’ It was fully decided by now that you did have a a full time position now, and he handed you a check for the firsts three months salary, and then some that had your head spinning.

‘This is unnecessary..’ It was money that you’d only ever seen on paper, let alone now held in your hands.

‘Consider it a bonus, and a reward.’ Shisui lifted your chin, and kissed your cheek.

You watched as he waited for you to go inside of your apartment, then he left.

[bidisasterevankinard]

tease tidbit tuesday! 🎸🎙️

Tagged by @heartbeatdiaz thank you love 💙💙💙

rule: share whatever scene or snippet from your fic that has you excited, ig???

I shared part of it for sss but I needed to share part with Bobby cause his my fav here and I actually excited about this scene

more enemies to lovers au

“Let's get started. Buck, you're the first, play that tune that you showed me a few months ago,” Bobby points Buck to the instruments.  Buck goes to the guitar to play a melody that he started six months ago, but the text never came to him and he never finished it. Maybe someday.  He almost reaches the chorus, when the damn brown-eyed begins to sing and his as it was called "a wonderful angelic drawling voice that makes you think sinful things"(Buck literally read it in twitter once) fills the room. And it took you five whole minutes To pack us up and leave me with it Holdin' all this love out here in the hall I think I've seen this film before And I didn't like the ending You're not my homeland anymore So what am I defending now? You were my town Now I'm in exile, seein' you out I think I've seen this film before They end the chorus and both are looking at each other shocked. Buck can admit lyrics are good and go with music fantastically. Well, he can admit it for himself, never to anyone else. “I wrote it after Shannon sent the divorce papers,” the only explanation Eddie gives to Bobby, and the old man nods.  Buck feels the urge to be a jerk and doesn’t stop himself. “Couldn't satisfy your wifey?” Eddie turns to him so quickly that Buck is sure his neck will hurt for weeks. Fires of anger and hatred are burning in brown eyes and Buck wants to pour more gasoline. But he doesn’t have a chance to add more. “Well, at least I got into the label not through the bed of one of the producers,” Eddie says with the smirk that Buck hates from the first day he found out about Eddie Diaz, it always makes him want to start a fight.  “I slept with Abby after joining the label. And I didn't know she was a producer,”  “Come on, you're with your story and you haven't whored your way here? How many pussies have you licked and dicks sucked to get there?”  Eddie continues and Buck abruptly gets up and in a few steps overcomes the space between them, standing so close to the brunette jerk, using all his height and size, trying to seem bigger and intimidating. Bobbie’s quiet but rather intimidating voice scares both. “Both shut up and in the corners,” he points to two different chairs in different corners of the studio.  “The lyrics and music are perfect together, so whether you like it or not, we are finishing it. And you better start being a team. Otherwise, both of you will fly out of the label with a scandal that no one will ever want to work with you. Now you both have to stick to each other as if you haven't drank water for days, and the second one is a fountain of pure delicious water. Is that clear?” “Clear,” they both say looking at Bobby like kicked puppies, but then send each other looks that can set someone on fire. “Buck, do you have more for music?”  Bobby looks at him and Buck just shakes his head in denial and slight shame. He had never had to sit for so long with a draft of one song. And moreover, only with a melody. There are no words at all to put his heart in them as much as music does it. “Eddie, more lyrics?”  The old man changes his attention to brown-eyed but Buck prefers to look at the guitar or he might say something again, and maybe Bobby is a good man, and with the patience of the saint, but he has his limits too, and Buck pushed them enough in the past that almost lost his place in the label. “Only three more lines in the start,” the voice of a jerk playing an angel says and Buck can’t stop himself from rolling his eyes. Well, looks like they are going to work long together. “Ok, Eddie, give your lyrics to Buck to read. Buck, give Eddie notes to look and Eddie, try to play it. Maybe while you look at the project of the other one it will inspire something. Learn from each other a little. I will go and work in my office, only try to start another fight. I’m serious about ending your careers,” on that Bobby leaves them alone in the studio.

Tagging if they want to share : @honestlydarkprincess @911onabc @alyxmastershipper @transbuck @cowboy-buddie @heartshapedvows @bekkachaos @panbuckley @rogerzsteven @the-likesofus @shortsighted-owl @buddierights @housewifebuck @thewolvesof1998 @wildlife4life @wikiangela @hippolotamus @transboybuckley @devirnis @spotsandsocks @monsterrae1 @spaceprincessem @userdisaster @caroandcats @mandzuking17 @useramor @paranoidbean @sibylsleaves @jobairdxx @translasso @bigfootsmom and anyone who wants to share

[spacesully]

Tips on Writing a Book

(From a writer who's nearly complete with the novel they're writing.) These are opinions/tips that have helped me.

1.) Create a vague outline.

Don't spend too much time on writing out the details of the novel. World-build, create the characters, set up basic themes, and plot. I feel like the best writing comes through when you do minimal outlining. When I began writing The Vigil Experiment, I barely had an outline. I wrote the first chapter on a whim and it felt like the main protagonist was talking to me. It was not until later chapters (5/6) that I started outlining and plotting. I had a clear plot in my mind that I wanted to get down on paper, ensuring that I could identify any plot holes during the editing process. People may disagree with me because they believe it will make the plot sloppy, but that's not always the case. If you know how you want the book to end and the lessons it'll teach, then you have a basic outline. From there, you can write. I like to write with the flow, then put in more plot details through an outline after writing a few chapters into the book. This is just what helps me get my creativity going :)

2.) Practice. Practice. Practice.

People may not believe me when I say the key to writing is practicing it. What do I mean by that? Write short stories! Whether it's fan fics or essays for school, anything that can enhance your writing is worth exploring! Although I don't do it as often as I should, I can't help but notice how much my writing style improves every time I write an essay for college. (Using new vocabulary and transitions that make my writing easier to comprehend. It improves my prose.) I used to write short stories about characters I made up a while ago that have helped me tremendously when it comes down to writing. Practice folks!

3.) Listening to music.

Put on some Luke Hemmings or 5sos related and I'll write for hours. The inspiration music gives me is incredible. Writing a sad scene? Alright, put on some Billie Ellish. The aurora around music has captivated me to write even more. A lot of my inspiration draws from music, not just lyrically. It's the vibe of the music that uplifts me to weave words into sentences in my tales. It's so nice.

4.) Avoid distractions.

This is inevitable, as some of us are prone to get distracted. (Me) To minimize distractions, I turn on do not disturb on my phone for a few hours and put away everything that takes my focus off of my book. Remember to take breaks and be kind to yourself. It's okay to get distracted and wander away sometimes, but don't forget to stay focused on your goal.

5.) Don't edit your first draft. Go with the flow.

I had done this mistake, and I still do it occasionally, but I stop myself before I indulge in it. It's so easy to get lost in edits while reading back while writing. If you continue to do this, you'll never reach the end of the book. Trust me, I know from experience—it took me months just to finish three chapters.

6.) Rewrite IF needed.

If you realize that first or third person doesn't fit the narrative of your story, rewrite! Take your time and no rush to finishing your book. Only do this if you think certain perspectives are a better fit for your story.

7.) Take your time and have confidence in yourself.

Take your time and write at a pace that feels comfortable to you. Take your time and savor the journey instead of rushing towards the finish line! If it takes you years to finish writing a book because of the ups and downs of life, then embrace it! Trust in your writing abilities and avoid putting too much pressure on yourself!

8.) Promote early!

Another topic people may disagree with. The earlier you promote, the more opportunities you will have for success. Once you start outlining your book and have a clear idea of its content, begin promoting snippets and teasers to generate interest. Upload unedited snippets and your journey! I recently viewed a instgrammer whose book is in the works and they've been uploading unedited snippets and their journey of writing the book. Of course, keep it minimal to provide no spoilers, but provide a mini synopsis to captivate the audience in learning more about you and the book.

9.) Create Realatable Charchters.

This is very important! The process of character creation is what hooks people and keeps them engaged in your story. If there's a lot of development, they'll grow attached, especially if your character is relatable, someone the readers can see themselves in. It's my favorite part of the process because I get to observe people on social media and in real life. How can I get someone to relate to my character. I take notes, study behaviors, and even see likeable attributes in people for fictional characters. To help, I do character studies on fictional characters that people adore. Right now I'm doing a character study on Alastor and Lucifer from Hazbin Hotel. So far, this has helped me understand their personalities and analyze how they would respond and what actions they would take in certain situations. Lucifer, with his cunning nature, rarely loses his temper. Alastor, with his hands hidden behind his back and a constant smile on his face, maintains an air of deception to unsettle his enemies. The characters' body language tells the whole story. Lucifer's polite demeanor is evident in his use of phrases like "please," even during moments of frustration, suggesting his upbringing in Heaven. See, character studies can be influential, as you can implement some of these traits into your own. Just don't copy and paste characters, make them unique.

10.) Add as many scenes as you can think of and delete later.

Your first draft is your first draft for a reason. Go overboard, get creative! Get rid of scenes in the editing process.

11.) Have fun!

The most important step is to have fun. Make sure not to exhaust yourself with too much work. Immerse yourself in the boundless sea of creativity. If you start to feel fatigued or uninterested, take a break from your book and focus on something that brings you joy. Come back to it once you rediscover the joy it once brought you. Remember, you want to write and bring your words to life on the page.

Good luck with your novels and writing journeys! These tips are optional, so feel free to disregard them! I wanted to share these as a glimpse into my writing process, in case anyone was interested :)

[a-force-dyad-in-space]

A Fanfic Update

Hey guys, I thought I should give you an update about what's going on Ongoing-WIPs-wise just in case you've had some worries.

The short of it is that the writing juices haven't flowed well for a while now and I'm trying to get them back but it is a struggle. I've worked a bit on this fic or other but haven't made significant progress in a few months. I absolutely hope that will change soon but I unfortunately can't force it. It doesn't help that I'm going through some stuff IRL right now that I have to take care of (I am unfortunately an adult who has to do adulting and pay bills and shit 🥲). I try not to be too stressed out about it, but the more time passes the more the anxiety sets in. Wish me luck. 💪🏻

Anyway, here's a fic-by-fic overview, split up by fandom.

THE UNTAMED

The Angsty SongXue Fic — I'll be honest, I've written a little bit since I last updated you guys but I still haven't finished the buffer chapter (at this point I'm thinking about posting chapter 51 even though 52 isn't done yet), so nothing really new here. I really want to get back into a writing flow but so far it hasn't really worked. I am still working on it, though, so don't worry, I'm not going to drop it.

The It Follows AU — I'm ashamed to say I didn't even realize I posted that fic almost two years ago and I still haven't written the second half. I'm so sorry it's taking so long! I definitely still want to finish it! I might rewatch the It Follows movie before I do that, though.

The Observer Series — Oh yeah, remember that smutfic series I started a few years ago of which I've only posted part 1 so far? Yeah, I still need to work on that. I did write chapter 1 of part 2 a while ago, so it's not like it's forgotten, I just need to get my ass up and write the rest of part 2 before I can post it. 🙈

The Color Rush AU — Okay, technically I haven't posted that one yet but I did share a snippet along with a gifset a few years ago, so you guys know it exists. I haven't worked on it in a long time, though, and I don't know yet when I will find the spoons to continue writing it but I'm still intrigued by the premise and want to give it a go. Thank you for your patience!

The Somewhat Sweet, Somewhat Angsty XuanXian Fic — Again, haven't posted that one yet but I've been posting about it, so you guys know it exists. Nothing new on this front. I did want to rewrite the whole thing because I wasn't really happy with the way I wrote it thus far, so I'll probably go back to it at some point and do that, I just don't know when yet.

WORD OF HONOR

The Xie'er Deserves the World Fic — Listen, guys, I love this fic so much, I just haven't worked on it in a while. I'll probably re-read what I've written so far and go on from there, I've just been struggling with the latest chapter ever since I started writing it years ago. It's not dropped, though, I will get back to it! Pinky swear!

SAILOR MOON

I've mentioned here and there that I'm working on part 1 of an epic that is based on a doujinshi I started when I was 13 or 14. Unlike my other WIPs, this one really is 100% self-indulgent to the point where I don't even care whether people will read/like it once I post it when it's completely done. I'll just put it out there to make my teenage self happy because this story has been simmering in my head for over 20 years, and so that my IRL friends can read it if they want to. So, this one will be a long way out, but it exists. I'm only really mentioning it because I've mentioned it a couple of times before and because it's the fic that's been on my mind the most lately.

STAR WARS

You didn't think I forgot about TROBS, did you????? I did work on several beginnings of a draft during NaNoWriMo last year and I'm getting more and more of a clear picture of how I want it to go. For those unfamiliar, TROBS (or The Rise of Ben Skywalker, though I already changed the name of the fic again) is my attempt at an Episode IX fix-it fic that essentially replaces TROS. This one has been simmering in my head since early 2020 and I really want to get it out of there and onto the page for catharsis. I've even held off on reading any other TROS fix-its because of it, even though I've heard there are some really amazing ones out there (and I can't wait to read them once I've gotten my own out of my damn head). I really need to finally finish that beast. Wish me luck. 🥲

UNPOSTED WIPs

I still have so many notes for other fics (mostly for The Untamed) that I want to write at some point. Will I be able to get them all on the page? I honestly don't know, but I'll see where they take.

Anyway, that's all!

[mercerislandbooks]

With Twice the Love, Dessie Mei: A Conversation with Justina Chen

Island Books is delighted to host our longtime friend and author, Justina Chen, for the release of her brand-new middle grade novel, With Twice the Love, Dessie Mei, on Tuesday, May 7th at 6:30pm. Not only is this inspirational and heartfelt book set in Seattle, but it's also filled with characters that bring home the issues of our times.

I loved this book from start to finish. Dessie Mei has always known she's adopted from China. When her family has to move to Seattle to help a grandparent with memory issues transition into assisted living, she is uprooted in the middle of the school year to a new school. Hopeful that making a new friend in 6th grade won't be too hard, imagine Dessie Mei's surprise when she walks into her first classroom and finds a girl who looks EXACTLY like her. Donna is also adopted, and the two form an immediate bond. They look so much alike that they can't help but wonder... are they twins?

With that intriguing start I was completely hooked, and I’m so glad Justina Chen was able to take the time to sit down with me and talk about her wonderful new book!

Lori: Welcome Justina! I absolutely loved With Twice the Love, Dessie Mei. Can you tell us about the inspiration for your book?

Justina: My beloved Mama—who we lost a few months ago—was such a beautiful force of community. I saw that in the way she embraced my two stepdaughters who were adopted from China into a white family. She scooped them to her heart. So when one of my dear friends told me in close conversation that she and her daughter—both adopted, one from Korea, the other from China—had never felt welcome in the Asian American community, well, that was a dagger in my heart. With the rise of anti-Asian violence, the need to write this story became urgent. We’ve become so good at calling people out at a time when we must be exceptional at calling people into community. That’s the heart of this book. I hope that every reader who picks up With Twice the Love, Dessie Mei knows with utter conviction at the Mama-level that: YOU BELONG.

L: I love that, “calling people into community.” I really saw that as I read. You are delving into quite a few challenging topics. What was the hardest part to write?

J: I knew I was handling the most sensitive material in my entire writing career: adoption and adoptees. So I listened intently to the people I love most in the world who are adopted. I found a counselor who’s adopted and who works with a number of adolescent adoptees. She gave me an incredible reading list, and from there, I dove into abandonment and belonging, complex PTSD and attachment theory, identity-formation and community-building. It was important to me that adoptees were represented in my entire team: my agenting team to my editorial team, including my authenticity reader.

L: As a reader, it was so rich to see the contrast between Dessie Mei and Donna’s adoptions, in a way that made clear everyone has a unique experience; there’s no one “right” way. So, what was the easiest part to write?

J: The story itself came to me in a flash: I knew the emotional throughline. I heard the characters and I saw the plot so clearly, I wrote the first draft in an eight-day fever dream. Aside from North of Beautiful, words have never poured out of me that fast. So fast, my fingers could barely keep up with the paragraphs that were falling out of me fully formed. Of course, the second draft took a good year to write. In that draft, I had to make sure that every word was nuanced, every sentence finessed, every idea stood on solid research. L: The care you took with your polishing really shows. I loved that you said in your author’s note that this was the book you wrote for your 10-year old self — I've read your YA and wonder if you could talk about the difference in voice between writing YA and writing Middle Grade?

J: Such a good question! In my mind, the YA voice can be snarky, but the MG voice is sassy. There is a delightful indomitability in that middle grade voice that I relish—and as a grown woman who is still growing, I strive to recapture and live that middle grade spirit. L: That is a good distinction! I can see that in Dessie Mei: she really has a willingness to try to find a way, no matter the circumstances. The title of your book is so distinct, can you share how you came to it and the meaning of "with twice the love"?

J: It took forever and a day to come up with the title, and that phrase represents so much. The long-lost twins. The love of all their different families. The expansiveness of love itself. And of course, for Dessie, it is the perfect sign-off to an important and brave open letter she writes.

Thank you so much Justina!

Join us on Tuesday May 7th at 6:30pm to see Justina Chen in conversation with Shari Leid and celebrate the publication of With Twice the Love, Dessie Mei!

— Lori

[amandaoftherosemire]

Hi Manda!

Just wanted to pop in and make you aware of my adoration for Second Sight. I found it by chance a few weeks ago, and boy was it a breath of fresh air. Your characterization is flawless, your prose is absolutely delicious, and I've read through it upwards of three times now.

For what it's worth, I'm sorry your life has, for lack of a more decorous way of saying it, totally sucked over the last couple of years. I lost a mother figure in spring of this year to a crash with a drunk driver, and in some small way your therapy chapters through Loki became a kind of therapy for me as well. It's hard to pull yourself back together when it feels like half of your pieces have just vanished. Your strength is admirable and I'm (selfishly) very happy you've not abandoned this story.

I haven't read through your other works, but believe me when I tell you, I will be eating it all up between sneaking breaks at work like a labrador getting onto your kitchen counters.

No need to respond publicly if you don't wish to, I just wanted to let you know I'm cheering for you in my little corner, with a pennant flag and everything! I'd be happy to be added to the taglist for damn near everything you write from now on :)

Much love! Keep your head up <3

I can't begin to tell you what this means to me. Thank you. Thank you for reaching out, for saying all of these lovely things. I'm so sorry that you lost someone close to you. When a loved one passes, it leaves a hole in your life that simply cannot be fixed. The only person that fits there is gone, and all you can do is try to keep the edges from fraying. Knowing that something I wrote could help you keep those edges intact somehow helps me keep my edges from falling apart, too. Thank you so much for telling me! 💖💖💖

I have discovered that I am constitutionally incapable of not finishing a story, especially when I know someone wants to know how it turns out. I promise to keep at it until it's done. I have a need to complete it, for myself if no one else, but it helps to know that others like it too. Even if I'm talking to only you and a few others, I will keep at it.

To be clear, I have ADHD and I am highly motivated by praise and nagging. Telling me you like something I wrote gives me such a hit of dopamine, I always end up writing the next chapter of whatever from the hit of positive reinforcement. I've been focusing on NaNoWriMo this month, but I've got a rough draft of the next chapter already written thanks to you. I'm a little ashamed of how easy it is to manipulate me. 😄

Thank you again! I love you! 😊

[eomayas]

💖 🤩 🥘 for the ask game!

💖: definitely ‘all the rumors are true’; i remember writing it in a few days because the idea came to me and was so clear in my head and once i wrote it it just felt right. it’s brobably my favorite thing ive written

🤩: honestly all of them! it makes me really happy when people analyze my story plot point by plot point and say what they liked about it/how it made them feel. lately i’ve been getting reblogs and people have been writing out their ‘review’ in the tags and those are so funny and heart warming. i generally appreciate the support; i somebody private messaged me a comment just saying they love my works and that was super sweet 🥹

🥘: so currently i’ve hit a writers block so my WIPs have been in the drafts for over 6 months (some of them). i have a bbh request from nearly a year ago that i would like to finish because i really like what ive got so far, i am just trying not to rush into the ending. i have a kyungsoo wip about enemies to lovers sort of that needs to be wrapped up i am just again not trying to rush to the part everybody wants first. and the. i have a hoshi smut that i need to better figure out the plot; i really like the character dynamics in that one i just can’t figure out how to entirely make it work rn.

thank you to whoever sent this! it means a lot 🥰🩷

[sunsents]

The Cardigan - F.W 18+

My first ever post and it's a goddamn smut one shot. This has been in my Wattpad drafts for way too long (wrote it three-four months ago), it's not the best, and I'm not proud of the writing but et eez what et eez. I really wan't to start publishing my work and gotta start somewhere. Also the smut is shitty, and the dirty talk is just goddamn vile. Also I'm a horny mf.

Summary ---> "Is that mine? You look better in it than me, that's for sure." An intimate night with Fred after you guys find the house all to yourselves. This is just pure filth, like scroll if you wan't plot. 🌚

Pairing: fred weasley/fem!reader

Word count: 2.3k

Warnings: smut / overstim if u squint / cursing / thigh tiding / dirty talk / fred being a horny little shit / an attempt at innuendos / hand-job / cum play (?) / like one ass slap

Rating: 18+

DON'T REPOST MY WORK

The bathroom at the Weasley's were quite cramped, but you didn't care. Your shower was more than satisfactory, the wavering smell of Mrs. Weasley cooking downstairs mixing with the wonderful scent of Fred's shampoo. The hot water loosened all your fatigued muscles - those extra hours out on the field playing Quidditch was worth it - your muscles were taut, flexing wonderfully whenever you lifted your arm to rinse off the products in your hair.

When you opened the door of the bathroom, clouds of hot air escaping and surrounding the small corridor, you were surprised to hear no footsteps, loud chattering of your friends and the usual plates clinking in the kitchen. You figured going downstair naked wouldn't be a good idea, and entered Ginny's room.

The disheveled bedroom was empty, and you looked out the window to the vast garden and wheat fields that got darker with the hot summer night approaching. There was no sign of anyone and you were starting to get anxious. Maybe it was because of the unusual silence - the Weasley household always had some kind of chaos happening - nevertheless, you quickly slipped on some satin shorts and a soft, white knit sweater to keep the evening breezes at bay. After swiftly drying your hair with a towel - you were letting it air dry, Cosmopolitan said Cindy Crawford did it - you applied whatever product was routine for your body and left the room.

Your magical radio was playing a soft jazz from the den and immediate relief washed over you when you stepped downstairs. The creams and perfumes that stuck to your skin wafted around the air and filled the rooms with delicious essences, and your soft socks slipped and slid across the wooden floor to the kitchen as you pushed yourself with ease. You quickly caught yourself with a chair and laughed, being alone wasn't so bad, you figured you could find ways to entertain yourself.

Until, a low chuckle from the den caused you to yelp and almost fall on your ass, merlin forbid. You couldn't bear another injury after George two left feet Weasley accidentally kicked you on the shin while playing Quidditch.

Speaking of Weasley, Fred Weasley was sprawled out on the couch, wearing only his boxers and a long, loosely knitted cardigan sitting on his exposed skin. You felt your mouth water, his head was lazily thrown back, exposing his curved neck and Adam's apple, his freckles more noticeable than ever. He was staring at you, his lips tugging a smile and enjoying the show you put on. Humiliation, is what it was. You were sliding around floorings like Madame Maxine on ice.

Your blood suddenly felt on like liquid fire, and you opened the cupboards to get yourself a glass of water. "Aguamenti," you casted, and from the corner of your eye you saw Fred's gaze set on your exposed legs, trailing up to your ass that was slightly exposed from the length of your shorts. They rode up more when you stood on your toes to place the cup back on the shelf after chugging the liquid down and muttering a cleaning spell.

"Is that mine?" you cleared your throat, finishing up in the kitchen and walking over to one of the rocking chairs. You didn't know why Fred was sitting around practically naked - you didn't question because he was Fred Weasley and you were tired. You weren't complaining etiher.

"Yeah," Fred said breathlessly. "It's surprisingly comfortable."

"You look better than me in it, that's for sure." You chuckled darkly, eyeing his provocative muscles. The hickeys you had left from a few days ago were slightly healed, soft reds trailing his nape and they weren't helping the growing desire between your legs. "Where is everyone?" you asked.

Fred quickly noticed your poorly hidden lustful stares and moved the cardigan away with a sly smirk, revealing more of his abs and flexed thighs. "They went out to Diagon Ally, won't be back until ten." he said. You nodded then took a deep, shaky breath and picked up a magazine from the coffee table. You settled in your mind that maybe looking through the new season Versace bikinis would calm your lust.

Fred let out a long, erotic sigh, allowing a soft groan to escape his lips along the way. Your hand twitched, you were still oblivious to his intentions and crossed your legs for some friction. "Hey ____," Fred called out, and you hummed in response, not looking up from your magazine. You seemed to have read the same line five times now. "I think there's something in my eye, can you blow on it."

Your eyes went wide, Fred was vulgar. This was no surprise to you after dating him for almost two years, but saying something so shamelessly, no hesitation still made your heart stutter. Your imagination was running wild now, you pictured every single thing you wished to do to him at this moment, in those clothes. You quickly put your magazine down, more of slapped it on the table. "Sure, yeah." you said in a shaky voice, then stood up and walked over to him.

Fred's arms were wide on the couch, and one of them pulled your hand down when he was able to reach you. Your heart stopped for a moment, you felt herself land harshly on his thigh and the impact on your core caused a groan from the back of your throat to slip out.

Fred was rather enjoying himself, his head lazily leaning back on the pillow as he rubbed your thighs up and down, digging the pads of his fingers into your skin and causing an embarrassingly load of your juices to flow to your newly worn panties.

You readjusted yourself so the heat between your legs weren't in direct contact with his thigh. You scooted closer and had to bite back a moan when Fred jerked his leg up and applied pressure on your clit. You were trying your best not to show his effect on you, "Which eye." you hissed through gritted teeth, still pursuing his obvious lie.

Fred's shit eating grin only grew wider, and he took your hand and placed it right on his crotch. He was hard beneath his boxers, swelling bigger the second and you were fighting the urge to palm his cock. You shot him a warning look to which he playfully frowned, then gestured to his right eye. You leaned in closer, maybe he really did have something in his eye.

Fred's breathing was heavy, fanning over your lips as you tried to take a closer look. Your inspection was cut short when he gripped your waist, riding up your sweater to touch you directly. You gasped and straightened up at his rough hands kneading around your stomach. Chills were racing down your spine, you didn't want to give in just yet, just for teasing purposes, but Fred was making it unbelievable hard with his tousled hair and hooded eyes boring into yours.

Your panties felt soaked and you hoped he wouldn't notice, but when Fred gripped your shorts and pulled them down, his eyes fell on the wet fabric that was stuck to your entrance. You were painfully aware of how aroused you were, and your heated cheeks weren't helping with your embarrassment.

Fred licked his lips - his expression lust crazed - then he gripped one of your legs and guided it around his thighs, making you straddle him. He held both of your thighs and pulled you in closer, and when your knee touched his boner, it caused him to groan lowly and attempt to close the small gap between your two bodies.

You marveled at the idea of being any more closer to him, the aching on your lower abdomen making you grind yourself on his thigh, whimpering at the much needed friction. The scene looked erotic to you, Fred's finger had slithered down to your panties and moved them to the side to expose all of you, flushed and swollen. He gripped your waist again and started rocking your body on his thigh, "Ride my thigh baby, wan't you to get off on me," he said huskily, "Slow and good~"

You didn't know what else to do other than nod as much agreeable a nod could get. Fred started guiding your hips at a slow pace, not letting you fasten it once. He tutted when you tried for the second time, "Stop being impatient my love." he crooned, straightening himself up to finally meet your lips.

But you barely responded.

You were slack-jawed, your clit swollen painfully, your hips swiveling to get more contact. Pathetic really, is what it was. Fred said few words of filth and here you were, panting and rutting, thanking whoever up there to have the opportunity to ride Fred's obscenely attractive thigh. A thigh shouldn't be this attractive you thought, his skin warm and comfortable, generous muscles teasingly helping you get off. Emphasis on teasingly, he wouldn't let you have anything that easily. It was heaven and hell all at once.

Fred was sensually tracing the outline of your mouth with his tongue all the while, then dipped down and feathered kisses on your jaw that was just as slow as his pace. "Fuck, you're so filthy for this. Who knew this is all it took?" he groaned.

"You have such a responsive cunt babe, I can do whatever I want and you just lose it. Fuck-"

You were growing more frustrated the second and Fred was getting rather talkative, he ran his nose down your collarbones, sucking the supple skin into his mouth and leaving crimson marks. "Freddie please - just, mmmh!" you cried out a strangled moan, you had finally gotten what you wanted. You knew Fred could never resist the nickname, and in such a tone too.

He had started to rub your clit, his other arm wrapping around the small of your back protectively. He groaned against your neck, sending shockwaves of pleasure trailing from your marked neck all down to your feet. But Fred wasn't stupid, he had caught on rather soon and chuckled.

"Bad girl." he mocked, then gave you a light smack on your ass, causing you to yelp and jump. You landed harshly on Fred's thigh again and the moan you let out was almost painful. You clutched onto his hair as he gripped your waist and continued to rock you on his thigh.

You let him guide your movement, your juices easily allowing you to slide yourself back and forth on him, and whenever Fred would pull you forward he would apply pressure on your clit by gripping your waist tighter and pushing you down. He fastened his pace with every grind, and every huff of air you let out when your hips would come in contact. "Oh fucking hell - yes," Fred heaved, your knee must've been grazing against his cock just right because he was letting out soft groans and curse words every other second, his hefty length visible behind the fabric.

You couldn't resist, he had such an attractive dick even after seeing it so many times. You started rubbing him from the outside of his boxers, digging the pads of your fingertips into his shaft whenever you could. Fred's head rested between the slope of your breasts, and his hips bucked up at your touch, rutting desperately into your fisted hand, causing you to loudly moan out when his thigh pressed on your swollen bud.

He was barely jutting your hips at this point, barely able to focus on your pleasure from the amount he was getting. Cocky attitude gone as soon as you touched him, you made him melt under your palm. "I love you so fucking much - ohhh...holy shit, keep rubbing me like that." he moaned against your skin, the intense vibrations making you shudder.

You started to move by yourself, quickly and desperately, your juices glazing the skin and soaking up your panties that was making it harder for you both. But it felt too good to stop and remove it, the heat in your core was growing and you closed your eyes to focus on the man that was letting out hot breaths between the valley of your breasts. His hand started playing with your nipple, squeezing it between his forefinger and thumb as the other gripped your waist and rocked you faster.

Your movement was getting sloppy, legs trembling and jerking whenever pressure was applied to your clit. You were whining the name of your lover, your voice almost pornographic. "Cum my love - fuck yes, cum all over me. Make a mess of me." Fred's hand left your nipple and guided your hips faster, the other pulling down on your thighs as you threw your head back. Fred started circling your clit to speed up your fast approaching release, but it wasn't even needed.

With a final, high pitched squeal, your vision went black, stars dancing around your lids. Your body shuddered violently, and you came hard all over his thigh. "You look so beautiful I-" Fred barely managed to let out before you gripped down his boxers and let his erection swing out. You wrapped your hand around the head and watched in amusement as pre-cum leaked out when you squeezed.

"What? Gonna milk me dry baby?" Fred chuckled darkly, his free hand running through his tousled hair while the other gripped and kneaded the side of your waist.

"I was hoping to do more than that, but for now..." you licked a long stripe up the base of his neck to the back of his ear, and bit. All the while, your hand started working around his painfully hard cock.  Fred was almost heaving now, unlike you who just recently came down from your mind blowing orgasm.

"I-...please, I wan't-" Fred gulped, and in the very rare moments he didn't know what to say. You started pumping his cock, the moment you squeezed him tighter he was coming.

"Fuck fuck fuck - ____!" Fred released all over your hand, his dick twitching beneath your fingers as he leaned his body on yours and let out strangled moans against your neck. You licked your fingers clean, then gently lifted Fred's chin. His eyes were slanted in a deep post-orgasmic daze, and you started to give him slow, wet kisses. "Look how good you taste." you whispered, swirling your tongue around his as he groaned into your mouth.

You were obsessed with how mesmerizing Fred looked. When he came, when he cried out whatever filthy thing came to mind, that blissful glow he had after orgasming. You wanted to repeat those moments over and over again, come with him yourself and touch yourself to his noises. And his taste, you could never get enough of it.

[clarissalance]

Who has the upper hand?

Pairing: Kaeya x G/N!Reader, mention of Varka and Diluc.

Warning: Slight swearing, Kaeya is a lil shit, reader being stubborn and scheming, immense tension

Summary: You’re so terrible at swordsmanship that you can’t withstand 2 strikes from Kaeya or, are you? 

Word count: 3k5

Disclaimer: What is written in here is based on my imagination, nothing from this fic should be taken seriously. Most of the fact I put in this fic does not follow the lore of the game so it should only be taken as a grain of salt. For example: section 8 in Knight of Favonius codebook.

A/N: I struggle so much when I wrote this piece. This was suppose to be angstier but I tone down a little bit (because Kaeya was very OOC in my draft, I think he’s still a bit OOC in this fic but I tried my best ;-;, pls don’t bite me.) 

How did author write a 50k+ oneshot? I can’t write something more than 5k properly ;-; Anyhow, please enjoy this fic. I’m going to have a good rest for 2 weeks before release a comeback. Please shower Kaeya and our new MC with a lot of loves!!!! 

As a strategist of the knight of Favonius, you don't usually have enough time to finish the towers of reports, the never-ending meetings and dealing with cheap tricks Fatui diplomats. Often, you have to skip your daily sword training session, which results in a rather miserable situation. The whole practice ground is staring holes at your defeated posture. You are sitting on the hard soil ground, and the Calvary captain is towering you, his sharp blade just a few inches away from your throat. 

It is not a strange scene for any knights to lose a spar against the Calvary captain, he should be one with the best swordsmanship after Grand Master, and maybe Acting-Grand Master, too. However, as knight, they can usually withstand him at least more than 2 blows. 

Whispers and talks start to circulate around as soon as you stepped your foot in the training ground. It’s very uncommon to see people from that department wandering around this area. The strategy department is famous inside the Knight of Favonius to be the weakling-cunning-mouthy-jerks, who always find excuses after excuses to skip the monthly knight evaluation. 

So, who gives them the right to be exempt from the test? Of course, it’s from the ultimate high chief of strategy department. Rumours say before the strategy chief works for the Favonius knight, the man was once a legendary attorney. That person can flip words from black to white, turns the defendant from guilty to innocent.  With a profound convincing skillset coming from the chief, persuading the Grand Master Varka is easy as a piece of cake. The whole department of 10 people is easily off-hook for 3 years, never participate in the monthly evaluation before the man suddenly dropped the bomb 2 days ago.  

“ I’m tired from coming with excuses to cover for your lazy asses.” The man waved his hand, his eyes staring outside the window. His nails scratching the messy shaved chin.“ Varka seems to get used to navigating my thoughts-”

“Maybe time is wearing away your skill-” At the corner, someone accidentally blurted out, and the whole table gave him a sharp look. Did he have a death wish or something? If so, everyone here can happily dig him a hole, free charge for the coffin.

The chief cleared his voice again, blue eyes melancholy drifted to the table. “So, you guys have tried your best on this monthly evaluation. I hope to see you all again next month.” 

The meeting was dismissed afterwards, and everything spiralled into chaos. The whole department hasn’t touched anything aside from the parchment papers and the quills in the last 3 years. How are they going to master the swordman-ship in 2 weeks? 

But, the worst thing is,

Your well-respected, talented, and tactful chief has run away. 

The next morning, you received the news that a foxy old man is on a business trip to Fontaine with the Grand Master. The expedition is 2 weeks long.

You should have known what he meant when the deceitful man ambiguously ended his sentence like that. Nothing goes well when the chief said:  ‘Farewell, my comrades’. 

 For the last 2 days, you have been starting to familiarize yourself again with how to hold a sword and how to swing the sword. 

As you trail along with the long-forgotten memories, trying to look through the familiar feeling when swinging the sword, you hear footsteps coming in your direction. It is familiar, with the way the person is walking, the beat, the sudden burst of noise in the air, you can only conclude it’s the Calvary Captain. The practice ground seems livelier as soon as the man steps inside, people rushing to his side to give their greetings. Maybe today is one of his practice days.

 “ Never thought I would see you here.” The young man calls out, successfully jostle you up from your thoughts. You give him a complex look and turn away, focusing on the tattered dummies. Your wrist is screaming in protest, legs wobbling. You remember those golden days when you were young when you were flexible, and your bones didn't crack as much. Oh, where the golden days have gone? 

“What do I own the honour of seeing you here, captain?” You fold your arm defensively, voice monotonously. Kaeya despites the most when you start talking in an emotionless tone. Oh, how you love riling him up in the middle of the practice ground! 

“ I come here for my weekly practice, but-” He shrugs, eyes glinting with mischief. “ look like the rumour about the abolishment of special permission for the strategy department is true.” 

So he has heard the rumours. You roll your eyes, face blanks. You know Kaeya has his own way to obtain his information, but you never thought it’d be this fast. Words don’t easily leak from the strategy department. 

“What do you need? Make it short, so I can practice for the upcoming evaluation.” Tired of his long introduction, you ask him directly. If you are going to ignore him any longer, the man will continue poking you. 

Starting an argument only wastes your time, and asserting dominance in the middle of the training ground won’t boost your ego. You’re a strategist, your weapons are detailed plans and sharp word, not sword and bow. Showing off your strength in front of those ruthless knights don't improve your relationship with them. 

“ Straight the point eh?” You give him an impatiently look, tempting to ignore him again before he flashes you a smug grin. “How bout sparing with me?”  

The whole training ground falls in silence, and you direct at the captain a confusing look. Is he serious? No one in the knight except the Grand Master can go against him, not to mention someone who hasn’t touched a sword for three years. 

“I can help you with your training, and you can help with mine” Kaeya speaks with utmost confidence that you almost nod and agree. That man is really deceitful, he knows how well your skill has gone dull, yet he still wants to practice with you? What is this man plotting?  

“ Do you realize how absurd your offer is? ” You give him a complicated gaze, voice unwavering. Everyone takes in a deep breath, tension crackling. It's not everyday scenery you often encounter. A heated argument between the mischievous cavalry captain and the tactful strategist. Nosy people gather around the pair, internally hoping for the war the breaks out. 

“ You know well that I can’t properly block your first strike.” Light-hearted, you joke, but there is no hint of amusement in your voice. Sharpe eyes glaring at the blue figure, you notice the man remains unfazed. 

" Shouldn't you choose a more competent opponent?" 

The sound whispers and talking about the reasons why Kaeya picked such an easy opponent start to circulate, and you can’t help to curl your lips up. Within a  few seconds, you have effortlessly turned the gossiping direction toward your desired path. Flashing Kaeya a victorious grin, you tap your foot impatiently, waiting for his reaction.

You should have worked at PR damage control or marketing instead! The diplomat would have been fine too! At least, you wouldn’t need to practice swordman-ship.

As you mulling on your terrible choice of career, a chill runs down your spine. Tilting up, Kaeya is beaming sweetly at you, the frost slowly creeping up and nipping your shoes. Look like you just pressed the wrong button. 

The man narrows his eyes, and you gulp nervously, avoiding his calculating gaze. Kaeya chuckles, his voice laced with worry, wavering and hurtful. 

“I just want to help you improve as fast as possible. The test is coming in two weeks isn't it?” 

The whole table has turned, and people start to say how considerate and thoughtful the cavalry captain is. The crowd starts to criticize you and tell you to be more grateful and stop suspicious of his unconditional help. Oh, you wish he wasting it on you, many knights in this training ground would love getting advice and improvements from him. 

Applause for our dear Calvary captain, smoothly seeking empathy from the crowd and turning the favour back to him. No wonder how fast he climbed up the rank. 

Bantering and arguing with a person like him is meaningless, so you accept his offer and drag your sword toward his direction. Let finish this within 2 strikes. 

Moving to the centre of the field, both of you face each other, his eyes scanning you sceptically. What is this man plotting again? Bowing, you finally give him a warning look before standing at your ready position. Kaeya holds his sword, analyzing your starting posture. 

As soon as the whistle blows, you charge at the man, opening the spar with a direct hit. Kaeya quickly raises his word up to block the first blow, the sound of steel clashing loudly. He then forcefully diverts the sword to the left, a classic way to counter the strike. 

Knowing your limited strength against him, you take a step back and swiftly angle the blade downward, aiming for a weak spot at his waist. This move would create a noticeable weakness on your right, and only the idiot doesn't use this as his advantage to disarm you. 

You’re right, he uses the loophole you planned, successfully disarm you within 2 strikes. The sword slips from your hand clanging loudly behind as your foot slips and fall on the ground. 

His sharp blade is just a few inches away from your neck. The calvary captain wears a solemn look, his cerulean eyes imbued with irritation. Seems like he figures out you purposefully planed to end the match in 2 strikes. 

Quickly raising your hand in defeat, you shoot him a taunting grin. The referee declares Kaeya is the winner, and people start to clap and cheer loudly, but overall no one is surprised. As the match end, audiences start to disperse, return back to their tasks. 

Kaeya put his sword away and offers you his hand. You stare idly at the gloved hand a moment before putting yours on. The man effortlessly pulls you up, your body flush against his. With Kaeya so close to you, your first reaction is to push the man away, but his firm grip says otherwise. He inches closer, dark blue locks brush your cheek, tall figure towering you intimidating. 

“Why end it so early?” He leans down and whispers, your body tenses up visibly. “Surely, you could handle more than 2 strikes of mine.” The young man in blue hums, his voice sultry. 

“ What are you saying? I haven’t touched the sword more than 3 years.” You remind him, hands pushing his chest away, trying to create some distance. The man doesn’t budge an inch. 

“Your strikes doesn’t say so. The first strike was not bad.” Noticing your effort to push him away, Kaeya stands straight, heels dig into the ground. His lips curl up at the helplessness flashing in your eyes. He loves seeing you struggle, seeing how anxiety and desperation rising in your sparkling orbs. “I think you could at least have a decent fight with me.”  

“ Quit spouting non-sense Kaeya, let me go. We are in public.” You let out an annoyed hiss, punching his toned chest. He still wears the uniform improperly like that, the exposed tan chest can be under many layers. Sometimes you don't even know the reason why doesn't he just button the shirt up properly. Finger grazing at the bared skin on his chest, you turn your head away, cheeks heat up. 

The man loves seeing you squirming in his trap, and you’re not going to let him see that. Anything, but satisfying his masochist hobby. 

“You don’t like skin-ship?” The man fakes a gasp, his orb sparkles with mirth. “But you were being touchy with your friend. Why can't we be a bit touchy? ”  His tone suggestively, the tall man snickers at your blushing mess. Out of everything, why would he mention that? You give him stinky eyes, brows furrow deeply.  

“I’m not touchy with you.” You deny dreadfully. Archon, how long have you wasted your time here with this slithering serpent? 

Kaeya arms wrap tightly around you, your body moulds perfectly into his embrace. You hate how perfectly you fit into his hug like this, but you can’t deny how warm he is, despite the fact he wields cryo. 

“ When will you let me go?” Your voice starts to grow weak, dragging slightly in discomfort.  Kaeya curiously looks down, noticing your pouting. Sensing his gaze, you turn your head away but his fingers have quickly grabbed your cheek, forcing you to look at his deep blue eye.  

“Give me a kiss, then I'd let you go.” His voice serious, but what he just said is not. You look at the cryo wielder horrendously, mouth gaping. His face is composed and relax, like what he just ask is like asking about the weather, asking about your health, not for a kiss. Is he being serious? What in the world did he just ask? A kiss? Excuse me, a what? 

“You...you are not being serious.” You wriggle your way out, escaping from his fingers, but his embrace tightens, caging you inside. Damn it, Kaeya. He’s messing with you. 

When you flash him a furious look, the man shrugs nonchalantly, his cerulean lock fluttering gently in the wind. Suddenly, you have an urge to wipe off that calm demeanour. He can’t be serious. Why does he have to go all the way to annoy the shit out of you? 

The smug grin hanging on his face, the mischief in his blue eyes, the arching brows, everything about him screams a flirt, yet you feel so mesmerized. Blinking a few times, you have to constantly remind yourself this man is not trustworthy. From the attitude to the way he looks at you, to the way he acts around you. Nothing from his action is truthful. Like Diluc’s warning, you can only believe half of his word and action. 

“ Of course I’m being serious.” His voice solemn, but you can see the amusement in his eyes. If he doesn’t like you, why would he spend so much effort bothering you this much? What reaction is he expecting from you?  

“ I really like you, Y/N” Kaeya confesses cheerfully, and you can faintly hear a few gasps around. Not this again...

Archon, you’re going to die early at this rate. You just want to practice for the upcoming evaluation, not becoming a hot topic for all Mondstadt citizen to gossip about. 

And this man too, how can he easily slip out those words when you just heard him flirting with another woman the other day?  You already told him numerous times that you’re not interested in dating him, or anyone right now! 

Hung your head down in exhaustion, you tap his shoulder, mumbling quietly. “ Fine, fine.” You finally open your mouth, too exhausted and bothered by his stubbornness. He only wants a kiss, and you won’t hurt giving him one. Just a kiss then you can get back to your practice.  

“Just don’t confess your love to me in a crowd like this again.” Before closing the deal, you weakly add a bargain, nudging him.  

The calvary captain looks surprised, his eye widens little, not expecting you to agree. Normally, it takes another argument or two before you comply with his request. Kaeya timidly raises his gloved hand to your face, gently caresses your cheek. This time, you lean into his touch, nuzzling your face into his palm, eyes glimmering softly. Despite a cryo wielder, his hand is surprisingly warm. 

The man in blue curiously peeks at you, he feels like a feather tickling the itchy spot. Are you plotting an escape route? Since when did you become so obedient? He has never seen the soft fur under the spiky façade you set up to face with the world, but strangely, he likes this version of you more. 

Noticing his relaxed stance, you carefully gently wrap your fingers around his wrist while keeping eye contact with him. Kaeya eye widens, startles at your sudden touching. Trying your best to not break the unspoken connection, you bring his hand away from your cheek. In those cerulean eyes, you see a hint of disappointment, but it quickly dissolves. Slowly, you draw closer toward the hand hanging in the air, lips fluttering on the smooth skin on his wrist. 

The calvary captain instinctively moves back, trying to escape from your sudden contact. Ironic, he is the one who innates the hug and demands a kiss from you. Tightening your grip, you press your wet lips on the exposed part of his wrist dedicatedly while maintaining eye contact with him, eyes drown with submission.

Kaeya stares at you in awe, maybe not expecting the passionate look in your eyes. His azure eye fills with mischief, now replaces with confusion and hesitation. You notice how his ears have dusted with pink despite the winds blowing in the practice ground. The man avoids your eyes, flustering. 

Whispers and gasps start to remind you of the crushing reality, so you let his hand down while grinning cheekily at the cryo wielder. Poking and breaking Kaeya meticulously façade is always something you want to try. The man is a living devil, so it’s extremely unusual to see him losing his composure. 

Sneakily, you untangle his other arm wrapping around your waist, plotting an escape route. 

However, Barbatos doesn’t let you slip away that easily. Quickly regaining his composure, Kaeya snakes his hand around your hip again, tightening his hold. Unlike the first time, the sneaky bastard lifts you up and has the audacity to throw your body on his shoulder, carry you like a sack. 

“ Yah! What are you doing?” You exclaim, fluster at his sudden antic. Kicking and punching on his shoulder, you try as many as you can, but somehow, Kaeya manages to dodge all of them.   

“ You said you will let me go when I give you a kiss!” The crowd uproars, stares and gossips poke pointedly at your back. You don’t want to hear those comments from those knights again. They're not going to let this live down, aren't they? Bury your face in the Kaeya's furry collar, you let out a frustrating sigh, punching his shoulder as hard as you can. 

“ You give me a kiss on my wrist. That doesn’t count.” Kaeya nonchalantly strides away from the practice ground, unfazed by your attempt to escape. This man is a beast, how can he not budge an inch with all of your kickings on his shoulder? 

“ You didn’t specify the place. A kiss is a kiss!” You emphasize, and you can feel his shoulder shaking. Is he laughing? “You didn’t keep your promise.” Fuels by the rising anger, you kick your leg aggressively, struggling to free yourself from the iron-clad grip. This time, his strong arm wraps around your calves like a chain.  

As soon as you raise your head up, the familiar pathway hits your memories. Shit, he is heading toward the headquarter, likely to his office. You can’t let anyone in there see you in this state. Punching his back profusely, you shot back. 

“Not fulfilling the contract is breaking the Knight of Favonius's code of cond-.” Before you can finish your sentence, the man smacks your calves loudly, successfully shutting your mouth. Speechless by his sudden punishment, you let out a disbelief breath.    

“ There are no such a section states about fulfilling contract inside the code of conduct, so stop making the rule up.” Kaeya smugly grins, and you can already picture his blue eyes glinting with mischief, the signature shit-eating grin on his handsome face.

" There is, it's in section eight-" Before you can finish your sentence, Kaeya cuts in, waving his hand dismissively. 

" Section eight is about interaction with your co-worker, there is none about keeping contracts." The calvary captain humming, trying to recalling the content of the book. Speechless by the detailed memories of his, you can only close your mouth, quietly waiting for him to drop you down. If you stay still on his shoulder, will he let you go? 

" You know, not everyone reads and memories the knight of Favonius handbook, you are just unlucky that I know the book by heart." Seeing you deflate weakly on his shoulder, Kaeya lets out a chuckle, patting your head comforting.       

Before heading inside the HQ, the man doesn't drop your down but leans in closely, his whisper tickling your ear. “But at least I had fun seeing you squirming in my grasp.” 

And then it hits you, the bastard purposely falls for of your antic. 

[homosexuhauls]

15 JUNE, 2021 by Chimamanda Ngozi-Adichie

IT IS OBSCENE: A TRUE REFLECTION IN THREE PARTS

PART ONE

When you are a public figure, people will write and say false things about you. It comes with the territory. Many of those things you brush aside. Many you ignore. The people close to you advise you that silence is best. And it often is. Sometimes, though, silence makes a lie begin to take on the shimmer of truth.

In this age of social media, where a story travels the world in minutes, silence sometimes means that other people can hijack your story and soon, their false version becomes the defining story about you.

Falsehood flies, and the Truth comes limping after it, as Jonathan Swift wrote.

Take the case of a young woman who attended my Lagos writing workshop some years ago; she stood out because she was bright and interested in feminism.

After the workshop, I welcomed her into my life. I very rarely do this, because my past experiences with young Nigerians left me wary of people who are calculating and insincere and want to use me only as an opportunity. But she was a Bright Young Nigerian Feminist and I thought that was worth making an exception.

She spent time in my Lagos home. We had long conversations. I was support-giver, counsellor, comforter.

Then I gave an interview in March 2017 in which I said that a trans woman is a trans woman, (the larger point of which was to say that we should be able to acknowledge difference while being fully inclusive, that in fact the whole premise of inclusiveness is difference.)

I was told she went on social media and insulted me.

This woman knows me enough to know that I fully support the rights of trans people and all marginalized people. That I have always been fiercely supportive of difference, in general. And that I am a person who reads and thinks and forms my opinions in a carefully considered way.

Of course she could very well have had concerns with the interview. That is fair enough. But I had a personal relationship with her. She could have emailed or called or texted me. Instead she went on social media to put on a public performance.

I was stunned. I couldn’t believe it. But I mostly held myself responsible. My spirit had been slightly stalled, from the beginning, by her. My first sense of unease with her came when she posted a photo taken in my house, at a time when I did not want any photos of my personal life on social media. I asked that she take it down. The second case of unease was her publicizing something I had told her in confidence about another member of the workshop. The most upsetting was when she, without telling me, used my name to apply for an American visa. Above all else was my lingering suspicion that she was a person who chose as friends only those from whom she could benefit. But she was a Bright Young Nigerian Feminist and I allowed that sentiment to over-ride my unease.

After she publicly insulted me, it was clear to me that this kind of noxious person had no business in my life, ever again.

A few months later, she sent this affected, self-regarding email which I ignored.

Friday September 15 2017 at 4.35 AM

Dearest Chimamanda,

Happy birthday. I mean this with all my heart, even though I know I have fallen (removed myself?) from your grace. It would be impossible for me to stop loving you; long before you gave me the possibility of being your friend you were the embodiment of my deepest hopes, and that will never change.

I think of you often, still – stating the obvious. I grieve the loss of our friendship; it is a complicated sadness. I’m sorry that I caused you pain, or to feel like you can no longer trust me. There’s so much that I wish could be said.

I pray this birthday is the happiest one yet. I wish you rest and quiet and abiding stability, and of course more of the kind of success that means the most to you.

I hope mothering X is everything you hoped and prayed for and more.

Have a wonderful day today.

Love always.

About a year later, she sent this email, which I also ignored.

Thursday November 29 2018 at 8.42 AM

Dear Chimamanda,

I realise this is long overdue and vastly insufficient, but I’m really sorry. I’ve spent so much time going back and forth in my head and my email drafts; wondering whether to write you, how to write you, what to say, all kinds of things. But in the end, this is the thing I realise I need to say.

I’m sorry I disappointed and hurt you by saying things publicly that were sharply critical, unkind and even disrespectful, especially in light of all the backlash and criticism you experience from people who don’t know you. I could have acted with more consideration towards you. I should have, especially given the privilege of intimacy that you had offered me. There are many reasons why I chose to behave the way I did, but none of them is an excuse. And I clearly realise now, after many, many months of needless sadness and angst and hurt and actual confusion, that I did not treat you as a friend would—certainly not as someone would to whom you had offered unprecedented access to yourself and your life.

You’ve meant the world to me since I was barely a teenager. It’s been very hard navigating the emotional fallout of the past several months, knowing you were displeased with me but truly not quite understanding why, then deciding I didn’t care, then realising that would never be true. I’ve always cared. But I was too mixed up about the situation to be able to make sense of it, or properly see past my own justifications. I’m sorry it took me so long to grasp how I let you down.

I realise that I don’t have room to ask anything of you, but I would be grateful for a chance to say this in person. Still, even if I never get that, I really hope you believe me.

Congratulations on restarting the workshop, and on all the other amazing successes of the past several months. I think of you often; it would be impossible not to. You look so happy in your pictures. I really hope you are well.

All my love,

I hoped never to hear from her again. But she has recently gone on social media to write about how she “refused to kiss my ring,” as if I demanded some kind of obeisance from her. She also suggests that there is some dark, shadowy ‘more’ to tell that she won’t tell, with an undertone of “if only you knew the whole story.”

It is a manipulative way of lying. By suggesting there is ‘more’ when you know very well that there isn’t, you do sufficient reputational damage while also being able to plead deniability. Innuendo without fact is immoral.

No, there isn’t more to the story. It is a simple story – you got close to a famous person, you publicly insulted the famous person to aggrandize yourself, the famous person cut you off, you sent emails and texts that were ignored, and you then decided to go on social media to peddle falsehoods. It is obscene to tell the world that you refused to kiss a ring when in fact there isn’t any ring at all.

I cannot make much of the hostility of strangers who do not know me – fame taints our view of the humanity of famous people. But the truth is that the famous person remains irretrievably human. Fame does not inoculate the famous person from disappointment and depression, fame does not make you any less angered or hurt by the duplicitous nature of people. To be famous is to be assumed to have power, which is true, but in the analysis of fame, people often ignore the vulnerability that comes with fame, and they are unable to see how others who have nothing to lose can lie and connive in order to take advantage of that fame, while not giving a single thought to the feelings and humanity of the famous person.

And when you personally know a famous person, when you have experienced their humanity, when you have benefited from their kindness, and yet you are unable to extend to them the basic grace and respect that even a casual acquaintanceship deserves, then it says something fundamental about you.

And in a deluded way, you will convince yourself that your hypocritical, self-regarding, compassion-free behavior is in fact principled feminism. It isn’t. You will wrap your mediocre malice in the false gauziness of ideological purity. But it’s still malice. You will tell yourself that being able to parrot the latest American Feminist orthodoxy justifies your hacking at the spirit of a person who had shown you only kindness. You can call your opportunism by any name, but it doesn’t make it any less of the ugly opportunism that it is.

PART TWO

When I first read this person’s work, which was their application to my writing workshop, I thought the sentences were well-done. I accepted this person. At the workshop, I thought they could have been more respectful of the other participants, perhaps not kept typing dismissively as others’ stories were discussed, with an air of being among people below their level. After the workshop, I decided to select the best stories, edit them, pay the writers a fee, and publish them in an e-magazine. The first story I chose was this person’s. I wrote a glowing introduction, which the story truly deserved.

They sent this email.

Fri, Aug 7, 2015, 8:20 AM

Thank you so much for that introduction. It means so much to me and I’m going to keep reading it to get through the rest of my stay at Syracuse. I sent it to my mother and she got nervous about the piece because you said ‘it disturbs’, said she’s not sure how she’s going to feel when she reads it. But she’s also one of those ‘let’s leave the past in the past’ people. My sister approved, which meant a lot because our childhoods were each other’s.

All that to say, I’m so grateful you gave me the space to write the short version of this piece, the encouragement to write the longer piece, and now, a platform for it. I definitely have plans to write more about Aba.

Thank you, with all my heart.

PS- I wanted to sign off gratefully + gracefully in Igbo but I said let me not fall my own hand 🙂

About a year later, they sent another email to let me know that their novel would be published.

Wed, Jun 8, 2016, 8:20 AM

Greetings!

I hope all’s been well with you this past year. Belated congratulations on the baby’s arrival, I hope she’s being a delight (I’m sure she is), and on the Johns Hopkins honors.

I was thinking about how this time last year, I’d just received the email from you about Farafina and I wanted to reach out with a quick update. I’ve just accepted an offer for the novel I excerpted as my application and it feels like the workshop was a catalyst for the events that’ve led me here. So, thank you, for the workshop and your words and the Olisa TV series and listening to me babble on about my story at the hotel. I deeply appreciate all of it and you.

All my best,

Before the novel was published, I spoke of it to some people, to help it get attention. I had not been able to finish reading it. I found the writing beautiful, but the story false-hearted and burdened by bathos. When I spoke of the novel, however, it was the former sentiment that I expressed, never the latter.

After I gave the March 2017 interview in which I said that a trans woman is a trans woman, I was told that this person had insulted me on social media, calling me, among other things, a murderer. I was deeply upset, because while I did not really know them personally, I felt they knew what I stood for and that I fully supported the rights of trans people, and that I do not wish anybody dead.

Still, I took no action. I ignored the public insult.

When this person’s publishers sent me an early copy of their novel, I was surprised to see that my name was included in their cover biography. I had never seen that done in a book before. I didn’t like that I had not been asked for permission to use my name, but most of all I thought – why would a person who thinks I’m a murderer want my name so prominently displayed in their biography?

Then I learned that, because my name was in the cover biography, a journalist had called them my “protegee” and they then threw a Twitter tantrum about it, calling it clickbait, viciously disavowing having received any help from me.

I knew this person had called me a murderer, I knew they were actively campaigning to “cancel” me and tweeting about how I should no longer be invited to speak at events. But this I felt I could not ignore.

I sent an email to my representative:

From: Chimamanda Adichie

Date: Wed, Feb 14, 2018 at 2:06 PM

I’m writing about X

She attended my Lagos workshop two years ago and I selected hers as one of a few pieces I published after the workshop.

Apparently I was referred to as her ‘mentor’ and/or she was referred to as my ‘protege,’ in some articles, which led to her tweeting about it. Her tweets were forwarded to me by friends. In them, she reacted quite viscerally to my being called her ‘mentor’ and her being my ‘protege.’ To be fair, she is not technically my ‘protege,’ and it is perfectly fine that she feels this way, but her ungracious tone and the ugliness of the energy spent on her tweets surprised me.

I recently received her book and noticed that my name was included in her official book bio. I was stunned. Surely if she is so strongly averse to my being considered a person who has been significant in her career, (which is my understanding of the loose use of protege/mentor) then it is unseemly to make the choice to include my name in her bio. I found it unusual, as I don’t think I’ve seen it done before in a book bio, but I also now find it unacceptably cynical.

It is only reasonable for a person who sees my name as it is used in her bio — ‘her work has been selected and edited by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie’ — to assume some sort of mentor/protege relationship.

To publicly disavow this with a tone bordering on hostility and at the same time so baldly use my name to sell her book is utterly unacceptable to me.

I’d like you to please reach out to her publishers and ask that my name be removed from her official book bio. I refuse to be used in this way.

After contacting her publishers, my representative wrote:

They have asked whether your preference would be to remove the Acknowledgment to you in the back of the book also, in future reprints.

I replied:

I don’t think that is my decision to take, and so will not answer either way, although it would be ideal if she herself made the decision to do so.

On the subject of how to go about it, I was absolutely determined not to be used by this person, but I was also sensitive to the costs the publisher might incur, as this was not in any way the publisher’s fault. Instead of pulping the already printed copies, I asked that the jackets be stripped and rebound. To my representative I wrote:

I’m completely determined that I not be used in this opportunistic and hypocritical way. But I want to make sure to proceed reasonably.

I was assured that my name would be removed and I moved on.

But from time to time, I would be informed of yet another social media post in which this person had attacked me.

This person has created a space in which social media followers have – and this I find unforgiveable – trivialized my parents’ death, claiming that the sudden and devastating loss of my parents within months of each other during this pandemic, was ‘punishment’ for my ‘transphobia.’

This person has asked followers to pick up machetes and attack me.

This person began a narrative that I had sabotaged their career, a narrative that has been picked up and repeated by others.

The normal response would be to ignore it all, because this person is seeking attention and publicity to benefit themselves. Claiming that I have sabotaged their career is a lie and this person knows that it is a lie. But if something is repeated often enough, in this age in which people do not need proof or verification to run with a story, especially a story that has outrage potential, then it can easily begin to seem true.

My addressing this lie will indeed get this person some attention – may they bask in it.

Here is the truth: I was very supportive of this writer. I didn’t have to be. I wasn’t asked to be. I supported this writer because I believe we need a diverse range of African stories.

Sabotaging a young writer’s career is just not my style; I would get no benefit or satisfaction from it. Asking that my name be removed from your biography is not sabotaging your career. It is about protecting my boundaries of what I consider acceptable in civil human behavior.

You publicly call me a murderer AND still feel entitled to benefit from my name?

You use my name (without my permission) to sell your book AND then throw an ugly tantrum when someone makes a reference to it?

What kind of monstrous entitlement, what kind of perverse self-absorption, what utter lack of self-awareness, what unheeding heartlessness, what frightening immaturity makes a person act this way?

Besides, a person who genuinely believes me to be a murderer cannot possibly want my name on their book cover, unless of course that person is a rank opportunist.

PART THREE

In certain young people today like these two from my writing workshop, I notice what I find increasingly troubling: a cold-blooded grasping, a hunger to take and take and take, but never give; a massive sense of entitlement; an inability to show gratitude; an ease with dishonesty and pretension and selfishness that is couched in the language of self-care; an expectation always to be helped and rewarded no matter whether deserving or not; language that is slick and sleek but with little emotional intelligence; an astonishing level of self-absorption; an unrealistic expectation of puritanism from others; an over-inflated sense of ability, or of talent where there is any at all; an inability to apologize, truly and fully, without justifications; a passionate performance of virtue that is well executed in the public space of Twitter but not in the intimate space of friendship.

I find it obscene.

There are many social-media-savvy people who are choking on sanctimony and lacking in compassion, who can fluidly pontificate on Twitter about kindness but are unable to actually show kindness. People whose social media lives are case studies in emotional aridity. People for whom friendship, and its expectations of loyalty and compassion and support, no longer matter. People who claim to love literature – the messy stories of our humanity – but are also monomaniacally obsessed with whatever is the prevailing ideological orthodoxy. People who demand that you denounce your friends for flimsy reasons in order to remain a member of the chosen puritan class.

People who ask you to ‘educate’ yourself while not having actually read any books themselves, while not being able to intelligently defend their own ideological positions, because by ‘educate,’ they actually mean ‘parrot what I say, flatten all nuance, wish away complexity.’

People who do not recognize that what they call a sophisticated take is really a simplistic mix of abstraction and orthodoxy – sophistication in this case being a showing-off of how au fait they are on the current version of ideological orthodoxy.

People who wield the words ‘violence’ and ‘weaponize’ like tarnished pitchforks. People who depend on obfuscation, who have no compassion for anybody genuinely curious or confused. Ask them a question and you are told that the answer is to repeat a mantra. Ask again for clarity and be accused of violence. (How ironic, speaking of violence, that it is one of these two who encouraged Twitter followers to pick up machetes and attack me.)

And so we have a generation of young people on social media so terrified of having the wrong opinions that they have robbed themselves of the opportunity to think and to learn and to grow.

I have spoken to young people who tell me they are terrified to tweet anything, that they read and re-read their tweets because they fear they will be attacked by their own. The assumption of good faith is dead. What matters is not goodness but the appearance of goodness. We are no longer human beings. We are now angels jostling to out-angel one another. God help us. It is obscene.

[crowdedimagines]

Make Her Jealous - Harry Styles

this has been sitting in my drafts for ages! so here ya go:) 

“I will love you forever if you can do me one favor?” A voice whispers in my ear. The sound of the club gets a little more quiet as I focus in on the voice that's successfully captured my attention.

“Hmm, eternal love seems like a big promise.” I grin.

“It’s kind of a big favor.”

“So, I guess it depends on what it is.” I smile, turning away from the bar. Harry Styles smiling down at me. I had noticed that he was here tonight. Hard not to. Lots of celebrities are spotted coming to this club, it’s a favorite of all of ours in LA.

“My ex girlfriend and the man she left me for just walked through those doors. Normally I wouldn’t care about that sort of thing, it’s just I basically wrote an album about her and how she destroyed me completely. So, will you pretend to be my girlfriend for the night?”

Harry rambles out his explanation, and I feel pity for the situation. Facing an ex after a breakup is never easy, but alone and after you’ve publicly dated someone it’s ten times worse. I know how he’s feeling, it’s complete shit.

“You’re serious?” I question, my brows raising.

“Completely.”

Harry and I have had a few near misses in meeting. Once or twice, as big as Hollywood is, the industry is small. I’ve never had the pleasure before tonight though.

“Harry Styles is asking me to make his girlfriend jealous? You didn’t come here with anyone?” I look over to where his group hovers, watching us both.

“She knows my friends well enough to know that I’m not with any of them. I just don’t want to have to see her for the first time after a couple embarrassing phone calls alone in a club.”

“Alright, you’ve guilted me into it.” I smile.

“You don’t have to!” He suddenly tries to defend, “It’s just been hard, I’ve seen her only a few times since we split, and she’s always all over her boyfriend in the most obvious way. At least if I had someone with me, it feels a little less like gloating.”

“Don’t worry, I get it. I’m on your side. I will let you be the gloaty one for once.” I smirk.

“You have no idea how good this is going to feel.”

“Alright, let’s go then.”

He leads me back to his group and we make a few introductions, they knew what he was doing and were glad to find me going along with it.

“This is really nice of you.” Sarah leans in with a hushed tone, “She’s been a right bitch to him, he deserves even the smallest of wins.”

“She’s been that bad?” I question, Harry’s arm is resting low on my waist at the table we’re sitting at, but I’m angled closer to Sarah while we talk.

“Oh yeah, as if it wasn’t bad enough that she ended it to be with him, she drags him through the mud again every couple of months claiming to miss him, only it never lasts more than a day or two. He can never move on, she pulls him back in.”

“That’s awful.” I peek over to look at him while he’s busy talking to Jeff.

“Yeah, he knows she’s bad news, but just needs to stay out of her traps. She always manages to dig her claws in once she gets him alone.”

“Well, it seems like that won’t be happening tonight.” I laugh nodding down to Harry’s grip on me.

We continue talking, I get to know the group better. I almost forget the whole reason I’ve been brought into this. I haven’t even seen her the whole night, not that I’m upset, it’s been amazing getting to know everyone.

“Devil spawn, three o clock.” Mitch announces, a few chuckles leave everyone at the table and I look up to see the woman he’s referring to. It looks like she’s bold enough to come over to the whole group.

“Hey, you guys.” She greets. There’s a chorus of half assed responses, but it seems she only cares for Harry’s anyway.

“Hey.” He smiles tight lipped.

“This is Y/n my girlfriend, I think you remember everyone else.” Harry gestures to everyone else at the table and she nods.

“Hi uh-” I reach out my hand towards hers while waiting for a name.

“Um, Camille.” She smiles, shaking my hand, seemingly surprised that I asked her name. I can see Jeff who is fortunately facing away bite back a laugh.

“Nice to meet you.” I grin, I give her the friendliest smile I can muster, she doesn’t even try to hide her grimace.  

“We’ve actually met before.” She clears her throat. “We worked together on a shoot a couple years ago.”

Harry’s grip tightens around my waist, obviously not expecting that. I faintly remember her from that shoot, and not for good reasons. It was still fairly early in both of our careers, but she already had the ego of someone with ten times the experience.

“That’s right! Well in that case, it’s nice to see you again.”

She fakes the smallest smile and nods.

“Sorry, we haven’t exactly gotten to the whole ex’s chat. We’re still in the phase where we just about want to rail each other on every horizontal surface we can find.”

Harry audibly chokes and tries to cover it with a cough of some sort. He turns towards me to hide the smile, still coughing.

“Right.” Camille says, trailing off at the end. “Harry, can I actually pull you for a quick chat?”

The table gets fully quiet now. It makes me think of Sarah’s comment from earlier about her seeking him out to dig her claws in. Surely, this is her repeating her actions, now everyone is just waiting to see if Harry will fall for it once again. Harry drops his gaze from her to me and I raise my brow in a quirk. Isn’t this kind of what he wanted? He grins at me before picking his head up again to face her.

“Actually, I think I’m doing just fine here for now.” He smiles, “Maybe some other time.”

She seems obviously shocked by the rejection, but covers it quickly.

“Next time.”

She waves a quick goodbye to everyone before leaving our little corner of the club. As soon as she’s out of earshot, it’s like everyone lets out a sigh of relief and a couple chuckles.

“Holy shit.” Jeff looks over all of us.

“I like this one.” Sarah pulls me in for a hug and I laugh.

“Too much?” I ask, looking for Harry’s reaction.

“Not at all.” He smiles.

“This has been a long time coming for her.” Mitch raises his glass in cheers.

We all share more drinks, and a couple dances. Camille stays for a while too, her eyes falling on the group often enough for us to all notice.

“Do you want to get out of here?” Harry whispers in my ear.

I simply nod and we get up to excuse ourselves. I say my goodbyes to the group, and make a promise to Sarah that we will meet up again for drinks again.

Camille sees us walking out hand in hand and seems to attempt one more hail mary.

“You’re leaving?” She questions.

“Yeah.” He looks over to me, our hands linked, “We’re going home.”

“We never got a chat.” She smiles.

“No, I told you next time.” He starts to walk away, “Have a good night Camille.”

Instead of bringing me home, like he had told Camille, we go to a small 24 hour diner not far from the club that Harry knew about. We look a little out of place considering our outfits, but no one questions it. There’s only one other customer seated at the counter. Harry and I take a booth close to the corner.

“So, this is where Harry Styles goes after clubbing?” I ask with a grin. He lets out a laugh before the waitress comes over to take our orders. Harry gets a black coffee to start.

“Trust me, some night it’s needed. These pancakes are great for soaking up any remaining alcohol.” He smiles.

“Sounds like a good idea.” I smile back.

We both order a stack of pancakes and talk while we wait.

“You could’ve told me that you know Camille.” He smirks, taking a sip from his mug.

“Well, where’s the fun in that?” I smirk back, “No, but in all honesty it wasn’t a great experience. It was a few years ago too, I didn’t know that she was the ex you were dodging.”

“Was she rude?”

“Not to me specifically, but those around her. I think it says a lot about a person in how they treat the people around them on set. Sorry.” I apologize, remembering that I am talking about a person he once considered himself to love.

“No, I agree completely. I’ve seen her act like that, and I’m ashamed to say I used to make excuses for it.” He shakes his head in disbelief of himself. 

“Love will make you do crazy things.” I smile softly. 

“True, although I don’t love her anymore. The rose colored glasses are all gone, it’s just harder some days than others.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean. Or you just associate the happiness of having someone rather than them specifically. Definitely been there before.” 

We continue talking until our pancakes are gone and the coffee gets cold. We both order separate vehicles and continue the conversation while we wait. My car manages to pull up before his and we both walk over. 

“Well, that was a fun night, Styles.” I grin. 

“Yeah, better than I could’ve ever expected.” 

“Goodnight, Harry.” I open the door to get in. 

“Wait.” I turn to look at him, “Can I kiss you?”

“Harry, I think you’re still healing from your last relationship, tonight just proves that. You’re not ready for this, which is perfectly alright.”

He nods and takes a step back to give me space. 

“Call me in a couple months and I will happily say yes to that question.” I smirk, I press a kiss to his cheek before finally sliding into the car and pulling the door shut behind me.

~

“Can you believe it was over three years ago?”

“I told you that I’d love you forever.” Harry grins, he takes my hand from across the table, the diamond ring on my left hand captivating his attention.

“We should thank Camille for bringing us together.” I smirk.

“Oh, I’m sure she would love that.” He rolls his eyes.

“Honestly though, maybe I should send her flowers.”

“You’re just as evil now as you were then.” Harry laughs.

“If I remember correctly, that’s what made you ask me out for a real date.”

“That’s not why.” He shakes his head. “I saw you that night, and I was glad to see you again.”

“Again?” I question. 

“Do you remember a couple years ago there was that New Years party thrown by Columbia?” Harry asks, his focus now on his mug while his cheeks tint pink.

“Yeah, barely, I think I got really drunk.”

“You did.” He laughs, “We talked. Briefly, but you managed to make me smile on a rough night.” 

Surely I must be drooling at this point since my jaw is hanging slacked. I can’t believe I have been dating this man for years, engaged officially, and he never told me that we actually met once. Even if it was only ten seconds. I had no clue, but I’m glad it was enough to make him come up to me in the bar those years ago. 

“I can’t believe I’m engaged to you and didn’t even know that you had a little crush before that night!” I lean back in the booth shocked.

“Why do you think I asked you to help me out?”

“I don’t know, I have quite a nice ass.”

He simply shakes his head, “You do, but there was more to it than that. Mitch knew, he was the one that encouraged me to actually go up to you.”

“Well, it looks like Mitch is getting flowers too.”