therookieking412 · 4 years ago
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Rouge
I had come to live a penniless existence. I had come to write about truth, beauty, freedom… and that which I believed in above all things: Love. There was one problem. I'd never been in love.
Just then, an unconscious Arabian fell through my roof, he was joined by a woman dressed as a duck.
“How to ya do!” She smiled, her hands moving quickly to clean the boards and dust off the Arab, and then four heads were peering down at me through the hole in my roof.
They asked me to step in for the Arab while he slept, and then in the next minute the writer quit the story, and I got the job.
“Congratulations!” The Duck said, hitting me on the back, the pianist and the Arab had joined us for… Absinthe.
“Duck, Mr. Cat will never agree-” The Arab began.
“Have you ever written a play before?”
“No, I-”
“The boy has talent!” She spread her arms, her hand hit my face. “Oops!”
“Wait, I- I can’t write for you!”
“Why not?” She pouted, the glass in her other hand had spilled.
“Well, I don’t know if I can-”
“Do you believe in Beauty?” She asked, taking my hand.
“Yes.”
“Freedom?” The Arab asked.
“Of course!”
“Truth?” the pianist said.
“Yes.”
“Love?” Duck asked me.
“Love?” I stared into her eyes. “Love? Love? Above all things I believe in love!”
So, we formed a plan, to convince Mr. Cat to let me write the show.
A plan that involved…
Femio.
And with that, I had my first taste of Absinthe.
We flew to the Moulin Rogue, where it was loud and colorful, where everyone was so very alive, they were singing and dancing, men and women, women and women, men and men.
It seemed like chaos, it seemed like peace.
And I was in the center of it.
Then, everything fell silent, people moved from the center of the floor, the lights dimmed, and I heard a voice, the voice of an angel.
“The French are glad to die for love.”
I could see no one, but then, I out my gaze on the heavens, and there he was, floating in the sky, sparkling under the concentrated lights.
All eyes were on him, and I fell victim to his charms.
I saw Mr. Cat look over in my direction, and then he looked right into my eyes.
I realized that I would do anything for him, I would die for him, I would love him for all eternity.
“The prince is here!” I heard Duck whisper to Fakir.
It broke my concentration, my head turned to scold the girl for speaking out of turn, and then, out of the corner of my eye, pink.
There he stood, his ensemble changed, something feathered and pink, a shining diamond heart sta right above his-
“Sorry, boys!” He shouted over the rest of the crowd. “Ladies choice.” He held out his hand to me and I was too stunned to take it. He pouted and whined, and the rest of the crowd pouted with him.
I opened my mouth, but he grabbed my hand, and pulled me out onto the dancefloor.
The world disappeared, colors flashed around us, but I didn’t see them.
He left me to rise back up into the sky, to sing one last chorus, but something happened, I held my breath as he fell from his perch, I rushed to catch him, but someone else was there, and he was pulled away.
I was escorted to something called the elephant room, to await Femio, when I asked if he was alright, the light woman told me it was nothing more than a dramatic flourish.
I swallowed, something made me fidget, I would see him again, with no one else to interrupt us, no one else would get between us…
I was only supposed to show him my poetry, to get him on board for the play, but… if something else were to occur…
There was no knock, but he stepped out, dressed in black.
A nervousness consumed me, what if I said the wrong thing?
“My- my gift.” I stuttered, I never stuttered!
“Shh! No, no, this is no time for you to tell me about your gifts, this is the time to show me.” He stepped closer, but I turned away.
He wasn’t making this very easy!
“My gift.” His hand was on my shoulder, trailing down my back, and I jumped away. “My gift is my song! And this one’s for you.”
He stopped, blinking as his hand fell to his side.
I took it in mine, and shared with him the poetry I had rehearsed and memorized.
It made him smile, his eyes twinkled in the moonlight. Was this love? Was this the feeling I was meant to write about?
The thing I believed in?
I wanted to kiss him, so badly, but then he said.
“I can’t believe I’m in love. In love with a young, handsome, talented prince.”
“Prince?” I laughed, my lips mere inches from his. “I’m not a prince.”
“You’re not?” His eyes widened, and he seemed to fit the pieces together. “You're not one of Duck's talented, Bohemian, impoverished protégés?”
“Uh-”
“Oh, no!”
There was a knock at the door.
“The Prince! Hide!”
I was frightened, I hid behind a table, and he threw out his robe to hide me further as the Prince came in with Mr. Cat.
Femio did his best to hid me, but the truth became apparent soon.
His eyes… his eyes were a jealous, all consuming, raw pink. He glared at me, and demanded what I was doing here.
“Rehreasing!” Femio smiled. “For a play called-”
“Called-”
“You expect me to believe that you’re rehearsing for a play in an elephant, dressed like that?”
“How’s the rehearsal going!” Duck said, announcing her presence as she waltzed into the elephants head through the window.
“I hope the piano’s tuned!” Penny said, baning his hands on sour notes.
“What’s going on in here?” Mr. Cat asked, and gasped at what he saw.
“Mr. Cat! You’re here!” Femio smiled, moving to him and wrapping an arm around his shoulder. “My precious prince here is interested in investing.”
“Oh, investing!”
“Investing?” The Prince asked.
“In a play!”
“Called Spectacular, Spectacular.” Duck announced. “Our dear boy is writing it!”
All of us moved to improvise a story, one that would interest the likes of a man such as the Prince, a tale of a princess, a knight, and a Prince.
“And in the end should someone die?”
It was luck alone that got us through that encounter, with the Prince promising to invest, as long as he was involved in the process. As long as he saw Femio.
The others celebrated, and my mind was fixated on Femio, I could see him, standing on top of the elephant, leaning out to see the world, and so I went up to meet him.
“Clever.” He said, not turning to face me. “Convincing the prince like that.”
“You deserve better than him.”
“Do I?”
“You deserve the world.”
He sighed, and turned to face me. “No, men like me… men of the night, we deserve one thing and one thing only.”
“Love.”
He chuckled.
“The best thing in the whole world is to love and be loved in return.”
“Pretty words.” He breathed the fresh Parisian air. “What is your name?”
“Autor.”
“And you know mine already.”
“Femio, please- “
“I will be fine, I will simply give the Prince everything he has ever wanted, and he will move on, and so will I.”
“It doesn’t have to be like that.” I was bold, I took his hand. “What you said before, earlier tonight, that you love-”
“That I loved you? I thought you were the prince. It was an act.”
“Was it? I saw the look in your eyes, the way you looked at me. Say it again.”
He chuckled and shook his head. “No, silly, love-struck boy, you couldn’t pay me enough to say those words.”
“Love comes for free.”
“Everything comes for a price.”
“Not love.” I shook my head, my hand bold as it reached up and traced the edge of his jaw. “Love is oxygen, love is all you need.”
He closed his eyes. “I have loved a thousand times, I won’t make the same mistake again.”
“You won’t.” I took the chance he presented to me, and I kissed him.
Lips as soft as a rose, breathe as intoxicating as wine, for one single moment he was mine, and I knew it wasn’t enough.
We parted and he left me, but I saw it in his eyes, that first spark.
The Moulin Rouge was getting turned into a theater in order to host Spectacular, Spectacular, Femio was our Lead, our Prince, with Duck as his Princess, and Fakir as his knight. Mr. Cat was adamant about being the evil Monster Raven.
A day did not pass where I didn’t see him, where I didn’t speak to him, but I had to be careful, for wherever Femio was, the Prince was also.
He had laid some claim on Femio, and no one else was allowed to be with him, but that didn’t stop me.
And it didn’t stop him from falling madly in love with me.
I knew with every glance he stole to look at me, with every soft smile he gave me, with the flush of his cheeks I knew he was mine.
There came a night, I had planned to meet him, but it was a test, because I knew that he was supposed to see the Prince tonight as well.
I was forcing his hand, making him choose.
Me or the Prince.
He never came, but by the morning, I heard that he hadn’t see the Prince either.
“He was seen by the Doctor.” I heard, as I walked past all the actors. “Coughing up blood.”
I rushed to see him, he was pale, still in bed, but he seemed happy to see me. “I was sick.” He said simply.
I cradled him in my arms, and apologized, I had forced him to choose when I knew it couldn’t be done. If he chose me over the Prince, what would happen to the Moulin Rouge? His home would be abandoned.
“I can’t keep doing this…” He turned his head to the window, the pale light of dawn filtering through. “Choosing you over the Prince, but, Autor… he holds the deeds in his hands.”
“I know, I’ll-I’ll write a song.” I rushed to his side. “And whenever you hear it, or hum, or sing.” I placed my hand on his cheek, he was so warm, something had taken hold of him. “You’ll think of me, and it’ll mean that we love each other.”
I kissed him, his lips hot, I was desperate and sloppy, but I knew it was okay because his hand rested on my cheek, and his lips moved with mine.
“Come what may.” I whispered into his lips.
“Come what may.” He nodded, pressing his forehead to mine.
But… he was right, eventually, the Prince demanded everything that Femio owed him.
We all sat, waiting for the night to end, all of us knew…
This wasn’t what Femio wanted…
We all knew that Femio was selling his body to the night.
“Jealousy will drive you mad.” Fakir said. “If it hasn’t already.”
Duck was sitting close by him.
“In my home, we have a tale about a prostitute, and a man… who fell in love with her.” He stood, there was something predatory about his gaze, he was trying to warn me, while also telling me it was too late. “She sells herself to the night, to other men. There is desire, passion, but suspicion! Jealousy! Anger! Betrayal! When Love is for the highest bidder there can be no trust. And when there is no trust, there is no love.”
“Duck.” I said, my throat dry, my eyes wet. “Why does…?”
She stood, leaving Fakir and coming to me, her hand on my shoulder.
“Why does my heart cry?”
She hugged me, and I saw Fakir roll his eyes.
“The Prince will get what he wants, will you still have Femio once he’s done with him?”
Come what may.
I left, the air stifling, the pitying looks suffocating, but as I walked into the cold night, I walked beneath the tower, where Femio and the Prince were to share dinner, and I saw them, out on the balcony.
Femio’s shoulders were bare, a sparkling necklace around his throat, the Prince kissed his shoulder blades.
“Come what may, come what may, I will love you, until my dying-”
His voice floated over me like soft rain, I stopped, but so did the Prince.
I meet his eyes, and even from the distance I could see the anger swelling inside of them. I watched uselessly as the Prince pulled Femio back inside.
I ran, I ran because something awful was about to happen, and as my hand reached for the doorknob, the door opened, and Lysander was there, holding Femio, his neck neck, dressed in nothing but his underclothes.
Femio was passed into my arms, behind Lysander the Prince had crumpled to the floor.
I kissed his tender temple, I whispered promises that we would run away together, that we would have a good life.
When he woke, he went off to pack his bag, to leave a note of good-bye, and I was doing just the same, my heart fluttering inside of my chest.
Everything was going my way.
There was a gentle knock at my door, and it was Femio, carrying no trunk, and wearing a sober ensemble.
“The Prince came to me last night… he apologized for everything… and promised me everything, that he would make me a star.” There was red around his eyes, I knew had been crying, that he was hurt, but it was a wound he wouldn’t let me mend. “Go home.”
I didn’t want to believe Femio, but when he left, my whole world faded into nothingness.
I sat, alone, in the dark, even when Duck came the darkness did not abade.
The show would go on, and I felt anger like no other consumed me.
It was my play, my story, my love!
I thought Femio wanted love, the love I had to offer, but he was just using me, using me to write him a play, and only when it was finished did he leave me.
And run to the Prince.
I did what I thought I had to do, I sold my typewriter and bought a ticket to Spectacular Spectacular.
The audience was packed, its what I deserved, what my play deserved, and I would never receive any of the glory.
I marched in, and went to the backstage, determined to see Femio, to be the one to get the final word.
I could hear them laughing and cheering, I could hear the applause, and I could hear him, his clear voice as he spoke my words, the words I wrote for him.
It must have been the Knight’s death scene, but as Fakir tried to stop me from getting on stage before falling asleep, I was at the trap door.
I entered, and Femio faltered.
“Ah!” Mr. Cat cried. “The Knight! Though you wear a clever disguise! I can still smell you!”
The audience gasped.
“I have not come to vanquish you, Raven.” I said, I knew the lines by heart. “I have been betrayed! By the Prince!”
The audience gasped.
I refused to say the Knight’s soliloquy.
A proclamation of loyalty and dedication.
“Had I known the truth, I would have stayed far away!”
There was confusion, what truth was I speaking off? What secret was being kept?
“Autor.” I heard him say, lowly, so that only I could hear.
A chill went down my spine, and I could only think of the times he called my name, between kisses during the day, between carases during the night.
But before I could create a grand story for the audience, Duck fell from the ceiling, proclaiming.
“Autor! They’ve got a gun! They’re going to kill you!” She dangled from a rope, and cried once more. “The greatest thing you’ll ever learn is just to love! And be loved! In return!”
“Come what may!” Femio sang in my ear. “I will love you.” His voice rose. “Until the end of time!”
The Prince stood, “Seize him!”
Femio pushed me to the ground, and there was a rush as everyone tried to run off the stage, or grab me.
“No matter what you say! The show is ending our way!” Duck said, still dangling from the rope.
There was a gun somewhere, it went off, severing the rope just as Fakir walked out onto stage, his arms thrusting out to catch Duck.
I stood to my feet, my hands finding Femio’s.
The gun was in Mr. Cat’s hands and the band started again, Penny’s beautiful score filling the air the knight was supposed to be ripped to pieces, but instead, Femio and I were lifted into the air, and together we defeated the Raven, and the gun flung from his grasp.
The audience cheered and I wondered for the first time if a happy ending would suit my story better.
I smiled, and the world was right, I kissed Femio for the last time.
He smiled too, but soon he grew pale, and cold, he coughed, and fainted.
He blinked rapidly, unseeing. His fingers clawed at me face, and there was nothing I could say, no words came to me, all I could whisper was “Come what may.”
His lips moved, forming the words, but they never reached my ears.
The tips of his fingers traced my lips.
“Come… what… may… come…”
His hand fell and his eyes, oh his eyes stared up lifelessly into the sky.
I cleared the blood that trickled from his mouth and cradled his body close to my chest, I felt my heart tear itself apart, and I couldn’t even hear my pitiful cries as the appalus rose into the air.
Time passed, and my heart healed, my love, all my love, still belonged to him, so I did my best to write a story about a time….
About a place…
About the people…
But above all, a story about love, a love that will live forever.
The End.
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basicallywhiterice · 3 years ago
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countdown (na jaemin)
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pairing: na jaemin x reader
genre: fluff. friends to lovers, college!au
summary: The three times you should have made a move, the two times you tried to, and the one time you didn’t need to.
word count: 1.5k
warnings: cussing
a/n: alternatively titled “haechan being both the best and worst wingman to grace the face of the earth”
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i. Three times you should have made a move.
“Hey! Jaemin! Over here,” Haechan shouts, waving at a boy clad in an oversized flannel across the dining hall. He turns, lighting up when he waves back, and all but runs over from the dish drop-off section.
“He’s my roommate,” Haechan introduces once Jaemin is in earshot. “Jaemin, this is y/n. Y/n, Jaemin,” Haechan introduces.
He’s cute, you notice immediately, his floppy hair swept to the side messily. Almost as quickly, you dispel the thought and do your best not to stare, extending a hand for him to shake on instinct. “Nice to meet you, Jaemin. So you’re the roommate who keeps losing his AirPods?”
In the second your hand hangs there, empty, you have enough time to go through all five stages of grief. You blundered in front of Haechan’s unfairly attractive roommate you’ll no doubt see again, about his AirPods? You prepare to draw your hand back and smooth it over your hair to relieve the awkwardness of rejected handshake.
Then Jaemin shakes your hand, eyes crinkling up as he beams. If you thought he was cute before, you’re a goner once his smile is directed at you. “Nice to meet you too, y/n. And yeah, that’s me. Were you the one who convinced him to get me the glow-in-the-dark Among Us case? That was honestly the best housewarming gift I’ve ever gotten.”
“Hey, that was all his idea. Besides convincing him to spend an extra dollar on the glow-in-the-dark, I played no part in it.”
“I’m sure. In any case, you have excellent taste. Thank you for picking it out.” He turns to converse with Haechan, but you don’t hear the rest of what he says over the sound of you putting your foot in your mouth.
As soon as he walks away, you collapse into a heap of regret on the table. “Why didn’t you tell me your new roommate was hot before we got the gag gift?” you groan. “God, how am I supposed to flirt with him after that?”
“You just met the guy, relax,” Haechan reassures, taking a bite out of his sandwich. “Stop overreacting,” he mumbles around a mouthful of his BLT.
You raise your head to glare at him for being your voice of reason, and he wiggles his eyebrows.
“You like him already, huh? Don’t worry, he actually thought the case was funny. You’re fine.”
You bury your face in your hands in lieu of responding.
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Jaemin is in your Algorithms class, you come to learn, likes useless trinkets more than you do, and vehemently opposes your dislike of coffee.
“Just try it,” he coaxes when he orders his second americano in an hour. “Haechan likes it, and you trust him, right?”
“With my life,” you deadpan as you both glance across the library to observe his attempts to flirt with the junior making his Starbucks order. He drops his straw when he gestures with his right hand, and you both snicker when he bends down to pick it up. “Actually, I think I’ll pass.”
Jaemin shrugs, taking a short sip from his cup before wincing and fanning his tongue. “Maybe you’re right. Anyways, which block did you want me to read?”
You show him, making edits as he comments on your code, and thank him once the block is fixed.
“No problem,” he grins. “Let me know if anything else is confusing. I’m happy to help.”
Just as you open your mouth to start the ritual of asking for his number, Haechan interrupts. “I got their number,” he announces, setting his phone down firmly between you and Jaemin and holding out his hands for a high five.
You sigh and half-heartedly slap his right hand despite your annoyance. At least one of you can be lucky in love, even if it comes at the expense of the other person.
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“What’s the most common fear you have?” you ask Jaemin, tracing the outline of a cloud against the pale blue sky with your finger.
“What do you mean?” he asks, turning to lie on his side. You drop your hand to rest on his beige blanket and meet his questioning glance.
“Like spiders, public speaking, dying single… what’re your fears that are common?”
He squints as a strong gust of wind blows his hair into his face. “I think you’re overexaggerating how common the intense fear of dying single is.”
“Why?” you ask, not entirely sure why you’re pressing him about this. “Are you not afraid of it?”
“Hm, I guess I’m a lot more scared of dying alone than dying single. What are your thoughts?”
A fleeting semblance of a pickup line involving the two of you and not being single surfaces in your brain, but it never reaches coherence. Instead, you respond, “Heights, probably.”
And rejection, you sadly add in your head. Definitely rejection.
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ii. Two times you tried to make a move.
“Hey, did I spell this right?”
When you lean over to read Jaemin’s meticulously written flashcard, your knee bumps into his. He mumbles an apology but makes no move to shift his leg. You stay like that, reviewing your notes for your last midterm together, until Haechan opens the door to his dorm and you scoot to different places on the couch.
“Hey Jaemin!” Haechan calls when he’s halfway in the bathroom. “Don’t forget about the trash,” he reminds, closing the door.
“Oh shit, one sec!” Jaemin hollers back. You wince at the volume, and he sheepishly turns toward you. “Sorry. Gotta take out the trash once he’s done,” he gestures, hand sweeping outwards before he knocks a couch pillow over.
Before he can fix it, you blurt, “Take me out while you’re at it too,” without missing a beat.
He doesn’t have time to react before you start laughing it off awkwardly. You don’t want to—damn it, why can’t you just be direct—but the fear of rejection overrides your confidence.
“Funny, right? Because of how ‘take out’ has different meanings? I’m hilarious, I know.”
He stares at you for a second too long before letting out a delayed chuckle. Haechan spares you the awkwardness of hearing his reply when he exits the bathroom and sits down between both of you, though, and Jaemin leaves with the trash soon after.
“Nice save, Casanova,” Haechan grins as soon as Jaemin steps out, reclining back into the couch. His Cheshire-Cat-esque smirk only grows when you reach over to smack him with the knocked-over pillow. “Wanna get take out once he gets back?”
You throw the pillow in his face this time. “I’m never coming back here again.”
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You find yourself waiting outside their dorm exactly twelve days later when your code won’t run after two hours of debugging and neither of them will answer your texts.
“Asshole,” you shoot at Haechan when he opens the door. “Please help me.”
“Tough luck. I’ve got a date tonight,” he says, smug.
“Why didn’t you tell me? I would’ve helped you pick a better outfit than that,” you critique, glancing at his plain button-up shirt.
“Chill, I haven’t layered anything yet. And Jaemin picked it out, so good luck convincing him to help you debug. And getting a date with him. Coward.”
“You say that like you didn’t interrupt us the first time I was trying to get his number,” you whisper.
“And you act like you would’ve met him without me.”
“Touché.”
“Who’s getting a date with me?” Jaemin calls from his desk, pushing up his glasses and frowning at his computer.
“Me,” you call back, and he glances up, eyes widening when he sees it’s you. Ignoring Haechan’s impressed “damn,” you walk over to the chair next to Jaemin. “I’ll help you debug if you help me?”
“You want me to—help you debug? No way,” he says, and for a moment, you regret your boldness. “How’d you know I was dying over coding too?” he continues, and your worries disappear.
“Just a hunch,” you shrug. Haechan leaves when the two of you are hunched over your laptops, elbows brushing gently enough to make it look like an accident.
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iii. One time you didn’t need to make a move.
“Y/n?”
You look up, halting your check of Jaemin’s backpack to make sure he hasn’t forgotten his AirPods again. “Yeah?”
His ears are tinged with pink and he can’t quite meet your eyes, but he looks like he’s trying his best to do so anyways. “Would… you… like to go out with me on Thursday? Maybe for dinner if you have time?”
You blink, holding your breath for three seconds just in case you misheard or he’s joking. Neither seems to be the case. “On a date?”
“Yes.” He nods. “Yes, a date.” He fidgets with the hem of his shirt. You smile, and he stops.
Silently, you count down from three before answering to avoid blurting out your answer, but it comes out with the same level of enthusiasm nonetheless.
“I’d love to.”
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daydream-hobii · 4 years ago
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Flowers & Weeds | Prequel to Roses & Thorns | Chapter 7
Genre: Prequel to Roses & Thorns; Poly!AU; Hybrid!AU; Fluff & Angst
Pairing: BTS x Female!Reader; Alpaca!Seokjin, Panther!Yoongi, Fox!Hoseok, Wolf!Namjoon, Bear!Jimin, Tiger!Taehyung, Bunny!Jungkook
Summary: Before Y/n rehabilitated hybrids, she was just an average rich daughter of a well-known hybrid breeder. She was also someone who didn’t want hybrids in her life, she didn’t like how they had to have an owner when really, they were more human than animals. When the government starts threatening her, she decides to get one to make them start. That’s what changes everything.
Warning: Mentions of Mental & Physical Abuse, Depression, Anxiety, and Suicidal Thoughts; High Suggestions of Smut; Future Mentions of Attempted Suicides; Read with Caution~ <3 This Chapter in Particular Mentions Medical Issues, as well as Cleaning Wounds. Read with Caution. <3
Word Count: 1,500
Connected Series: Roses & Thorns
// Previous // Next //
Author’s Note: Welcome to Chapter 7! I’ll add links later. I hope you like it!! ^_^
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        Seokjin sat on my couch, legs crossed and eyes flicking around the room. It was closing in on two in the morning, and I figured my two boys were asleep in my bed. I walked to the bathroom, returning with some medical supplies. He whined slightly at them, frowning and more tears falling.
       “Hey, I just need to clean the wounds,” I said, gently. “I don’t want to get them infected…. It’s going to sting, okay?” Seokjin watched me, nodding his head. I took a deep breath, pouring the hydrogen peroxide on his chest. He let out a loud scream, making me flinch as I placed a large towel over him. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” I looked up at him with sad eyes, watching his tears fall as he bit his lip. “Alright, alright, it’s okay….”
       He nodded, pulling his lips between his teeth as he breathed air in through his nose, eyes slamming shut. I pulled the towel away, the blood that was on his chest coming off so I could see the full extent of his injuries… they were bad.
       “Honey, I have to do your back,” I said, making him whimper. “Let me get you a rag to bite on, okay?” Again, he only nodded. I ran to the bathroom, jumping when I saw Namjoon and Taehyung sitting on the stairs, looking concerned.
       “Everything okay?” Namjoon asked, eyeing the blood that ran across my shirt.
       “No,” I whispered. “He’s hurt bad, and he won’t talk…. I want you two to go back to my room, he needs to get some sleep and I don’t know how he’ll react to you two.”
       “Okay…” Taehyung answered, frowning. “Be careful, okay?”
       “Promise,” I whispered back, going into the bathroom and grabbing a washcloth, running back over to Seokjin. I wrapped it up, holding it straight and watching him bite on it and turn around. It was just as bad as his front…. “Alright, 3, 2, 1.” I poured it, listening to his muffled screaming in the cloth. I placed a new towel on it, frowning as I listened to his screams slow down. “Okay, alright, we’re done.”
       I took away the towel, showing him the bandage. I began wrapping it around his entire torso, covering every inch of wound he had. By the end of it, I could only see his shoulders and arms. I let out a shaky breath, nodding my head.
       “Are you tired?” I whispered. His eyes fluttered up to me, nodding his head. “Follow me, I’ll show you your room.” I stood, watching him stand as well and follow me up the stairs. 
       I put him across from Namjoon, the second door on the right from the large staircase up to my bedroom. I watched him walk over to his bed, touching it gently and eyeing it. I went across the hall and into Taehyung’s room, grabbing a pair of pajama pants and a shirt before coming back to find Seokjin laying down, eyes trying to stay open. The pair of pants he wore were ragged and I could see his legs.
       “Alright, these are for you,” I whispered. “Go to sleep, we’ll talk in the morning, okay? Get some rest.” I watched as he shut his eyes, his breathing becoming slow. I sighed in relief, walking out and gently closing the door. I walked up the stairs and into my room, where Namjoon and Taehyung sat on my bed, waiting patiently for me.
       “Is he okay, Y/n?” Taehyung asked, watching me change into my own pajamas. I shrugged, walking over and laying between them, exhaustion filling me. 
       “No, Tae, I don’t think so,” I whispered. They both laid down, facing me as I laid on my back. “He has whip marks all over his body…. He was screaming when I went into the house….”
       “What’s his name?” Namjoon asked.
       “Seokjin,” I said, shutting my eyes. “I don’t know anything about him, just that he doesn’t like human men much….”
       “What about hybrids?” Taehyung asked, curiously.
       “Well… I don’t know…” I admitted. “We’ll find out in the morning, I guess….” Namjoon kissed my temple, curling into my side.
       “Go to sleep,” Namjoon whispered, making me sigh in comfort.
       “Don’t have to tell me twice,” I mumbled, feeling sleep completely engulf me.
       The next morning, I was in the kitchen making breakfast. It was really early, my two boys still asleep upstairs. Even though exhaustion filled my every pore, I knew I had to get up early for our newcomer. Plus, I could probably take a nap later, as I didn’t have too many duties being under the radar.
       When I turned around from the stove, I jumped when I saw Seokjin sitting at the island, watching me patiently. He seemed to flinch himself, but I gave the softest smile I could, nodding my head in hello and turning back to the stove to finish the eggs.
       “Morning, Seokjin,” I said, turning and dumping the eggs onto four plates. I turned the stove off, turning back and gently pushing a plate near Seokjin, who nodded in thanks. “Did you sleep well?” I asked, beginning to eat my own plate of food. He nodded, giving the smallest smile, making my heart skip at the accomplishment. “Good, I’m glad. I see you put on Tae’s clothing.” Seokjin seemed to tense up, looking at me with wide, fearful eyes. 
       “Oh, don’t worry, they’re hybrids.” I paused to see his reaction, and it seemed to be much calmer. “So, hybrids are okay, right?” I questioned, making him look at me and nod. 
       “Can we come in?” Taehyung whispered from the opening, frowning slightly as Seokjin turned to look at him before turning back.
       “Of course. Here’s your breakfast,” I whispered, grabbing their plates and handing it to them as they came in, smiling softly at Seokjin who nodded in hello. “Tae, I hope you don’t mind, I let him borrow your clothing.”
       “Sure thing,” Taehyung said, smiling largely at the Alpaca, who gave a soft smile back. Progress. “If you want, you can borrow more! Or, Y/n could take you to the Hybrid Mall.” Seokjin tensed up again, frowning and looking down.
       “It may be too soon for that, honey,” I whispered, kissing his cheek before doing the same to Namjoon. “If you’d prefer, you can use my computer to look up clothing from the hybrid mall. I can do a pick up order for you, so you can still get what you like.” Seokjin seemed to flash a very small smile, nodding his head. I smiled back, nodding and beginning to eat my own breakfast.
       I stared at my computer, my brow furrowed as a mixture of anger and sadness rolled through me. It’s like I couldn’t keep my emotions in line. My partner had sent me Seokjin’s file, and the more I read, the more infuriated I became.
       Namjoon knocked on the door, walking into the room and shutting it. He always was way more confident than Taehyung. I looked over my computer at him, shaking my head and looking back to the file. Namjoon sat in the chair in front of me, eyeing me as his tail twitched curiously.
       “They killed his entire family,” I whispered, shaking my head in disbelief. “They thought his owner was harboring hybrids and they killed him and the others.”
       “I’ve heard many stories like that,” Namjoon said, his voice soothing.
       “His owner was in his mid sixties and owned a fucking farm, Namjoon, he wasn’t harboring hybrids,” I snapped, raising my voice more than I wanted to. Namjoon squinted his eyes cautiously, not moving a muscle. “I’m sorry, I’m just upset….” I mumbled.
       “It’s alright,” Namjoon replied, leaning forward. He reached over, gripping your clenching hand and making you look at him with soft eyes. “No one ever said this job would be easy… but I know you’re strong enough to get through the most horrible scenarios.”
       “Thanks, Joonie,” I mumbled, shutting my computer and rubbing my face. “There were pictures in his file and… they were so awful.”
       “What happened to him?” Namjoon asked, leaning back and furrowing his brow. “Why didn’t he get killed?”
       “Alpaca’s are rare when they look as good as he does,” I mumbled, looking at him. “Most alpaca hybrids look deformed, like a genuine mix between human and animal. He’s the first I’ve seen that doesn’t have a long neck and hooves…. They probably thought they could make some money off of him.”
       “I can guess what they did to him in there…” Namjoon mumbled, frowning.
       “Says that he had lived on the farm since the day he was born,” I replied. “When he came to the auction, he was ornery and didn’t listen…. They…” I trailed off, shaking my head and looking down.
       “I know,” Namjoon replied. “I was there once….” I looked up, frowning and reaching over, gripping his hand. “Don’t worry. He’ll be okay…. He’s safe with you.”
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hazinhoodies · 5 years ago
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No Use For Moonlight (T.H)
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A/N: sorry for putting so many images of tom singing and him playing jack in newsies in your head, have fun with it I guess.
Warnings: tom singing, sorry
Word count: 5.8k
You sat on the floor of the black box theatre, typing away on your English assignment, as Harrison works with his partner for whatever skit he had to do. While Tom had originally been pacing the same corner of the room as he reads over the skipt for upcoming school musical auditions, he had dropped the script with a dramatic sigh and now danced around to whatever was playing through his earbuds. You look up from your computer for the first time in a while. Harrison is talking to his partner while pointing at the chair and table in the corner of the room. You can’t hear what they’re saying, only Ricky Montgomery in your ears as you bob your head along to the song through your earbuds. You look over to Tom and watch as he rounds turn after turn, you stopped counting after the fourth pirouette but he kept going for a couple more seconds before stopping, chest heaving slightly. You watch as he starts to lift up the bottom of his shirt but look back to your screen knowing that he's going to wipe his forehead with it, you don't want to get caught staring when you shouldn’t be. You're just friends, except when you're not.
Your relationship with Holland was… confusing.
Yeah sure, you guys were friends. But then every few weeks, you two couldn’t stand each other. Those times usually lasted about a week.
One whole week. A whole week of Tom being rude. A whole week of your passive aggressive remarks towards him. A whole week of Tom being a cocky asshole.  A whole week of you complaining to anyone who would listen.
If Harrison could turn off or shut either of you up for that week he would. He was stuck in the middle of it all. Every time.
But Harrison was a good friend. He was always there for you. Whether it was to tell you that you wrote down the wrong answer accidentally, or to warn you about Tom possibly being in a mood one day, he told you. You assume he did something similar for Tom. Help him memorize lines maybe? You weren’t sure. The drama and music departments didn’t cross over that much aside from the kids involved in both departments, like Harrison.
Harrison introduced you and Tom. You were twelve and it was Harrison's birthday. He’d invited you and Tom, as well as a few others. Harrison and another girl, Laura, were the only two you knew. You’d recognized Tom but only from seeing him in the halls so much, you’d never actually talked to him before.
What no one expected was for you and Tom to have gotten so close, in the short three hours, the two of you became inseparable. You still cared plenty for the other, if you hear something bad come from someone else's mouth about him then you told Tom. Not usually right as you heard it but it eventually came out.
Tom says something from next to you as he rummages through his bag for his water bottle. You barely hear it, only enough to pause your music and pull out your earbud and give Tom a look asking him to repeat himself, he does as he moves his bag over to sit next to you, popping up the straw of his water bottle. “How’s the essay comin’ along?”
You shrug, “One can only write about the metaphorical use of colour in the Great Gatsby for so long” You and Tom both let out a short laugh.
“When’s that due again?”  Tom asks sheepishly before taking a sip from his water bottle, as if to cover up his words.
“Thursday”
“Right, right, okay. Cool cool cool cool cool” There’s a brief pause between you two where Tom continues to nod and stare at the carpeted floor.
“You haven’t started have you?”
“Nope not at all.”
“Tom!”
“Hey! I’ve been busy with auditions!” Tom defends himself as you finally remove the other earbud figuring that he’s not leaving soon. “Speaking of auditions, you auditioning?”
You rummage through your bag and drop a thick spiral bound score on his lap. “I got this music over a week ago. Didn’t have to audition”
“I meant for Katherine” Tom starts to flip through through the book looking at all the music and the cues, pausing over parts that you’ve circled, “But this is good too”
“God no, I’m no actor.” You finish typing up the end of your last paragraph, quickly fixing any spelling mistakes and then shut your laptop, leaning back against the wall behind you and crossing your arms over your chest.
“But you can sing, and actings easy if you’ve got a great partner, which you would if you were Katherine” Tom continues to flip through the score, he admires how clean your writing is on some notes and how some are merely scribbled circles that he deciphered to Count.
“Getting real cocky there Holland” You warn with a small smirk on your face.
“I got nothin’ if I ain’t got this role” Tom says in a Manhattan accent, there’s no attempt made to hide the grin on his face. “I’ll be happy with whatever I get, it’d just be great to play Jack, I could do it I think”
You know he could. You have absolutely no doubt about it. You take back the score and put it back in your bag as Harrison starts to pack up his bag as well. “You two ready to go?” He asks as he slings his back pack over his shoulder.
“Yeah let’s go” You say as you start to stand up, pulling your bag over your back as well.
“Hey, can we watch Toy Story when we get to Haz’s?” Tom asks as he follows both of you out of the black box.
“We watched that last time!” You and Harrison both exclaim.
“Jeez, that’s a no then?”
Auditions were the following Friday, you sat anxiously outside of the auditorium waiting for Harrison and Tom to finish their auditions. You tried to pass the time by doing some work but you couldn’t focus on it so your theory workbook sat open on your lap while you scrolled through Instagram. Harrison had his audition before Tom did, you didn’t expect either of them to do poorly but you still felt relief wash over you when Haz walked towards you with a pleasant grin and even more when he told you it went great. You pulled him into a quick tight hug and voiced your joy before the two of you sat back down, light conversation flowing between you while you wait for Tom.
Half an hour later, Tom comes out of the auditorium and you and Harrison both stand up, almost falling over as you do. Tom has never been easy to read, especially after auditions. He’s definitely not smiling but you may see a bit of excitement and joy etched somewhere in his expression. You can’t really be sure, even after all these years of knowing him. He looks up at you and Harrison who look at him expectantly and Tom has the audacity to wave and say, “Hey guys”
“So?” You ask, nearly shouting. Tom stops about a foot short of you and Harrison before answering.
“My voice cracked but other than that it went really well” A smile finally break on his lips but you miss it as you wrap your arms around his neck and his around your waist with a small ‘oof’ followed by a chuckle
“I’m so proud of you” You say, muffled by his shoulder. You feel his hand run up and down your back and you squeeze tighter for a moment to return the sentiment.
“Thanks.” It’s quiet and under his breath and you hardly even heard it but it was there.
A week later casting had been released and sure enough, Tom had seized the role of Jack. And he was perfect for it. He had the charisma, the passion and the stage presence to put on a good show. He was a good singer, sure but definitely needed a bit more training to get the power needed, that’d come along eventually though, and Tom was never one to shy away from a challenge.
You got to see none of the progress of the show and Tom refused to tell you any of it, he wanted to save it so that you could experience it for yourself. The band joins the rehearsals during tech week, prior to that they get about four rehearsals together. That’s it. Four rehearsals, then joining the cast for three more, then shows start. There’s more shows than there are rehearsals and it’s extremely stressful but you’ve had the music for nearly three months already and band rehearsals haven’t even started yet. You’re set, you continue to work on it on your own, partially to make sure that you know the music an partially because it’s fun to play.
You’re sitting in a practice room during lunch one day, four instruments set up in the small room with you as you go over the part for King Of New York again. A knock on the practice room door makes you stop and listen for a moment, unsure if you actually heard it or not. The second knock comes a second later and you open the door to see Tom on the other side, a sheepish smile on his face as he holds up the script to Newsies. You wanted to shut the door in his face, you really did. Not that he had done anything wrong but it was just one of those weeks where you were so unbelievably irritated with him for seemingly no reason.
“Go away I’m working” You say, not moving from the door but keeping it open.
“Doing what?” Tom asks.
“Practicing! For your show, might I add.” You say as you roll your eyes, slumping back down in your and leaning back. Tom picks up the flute that occupies the other chair in the room and hands it to you as he hesitantly sits down and closes the door while you put the flute on its stand.
“We both know that you know your part inside out, upside down and backwards Y/N. Besides, I need help with lines and Harrison isn’t here” He pleads.
“You know, somewhere out there, someone cares. Go tell them!” Maybe a bit of a dick line but you don’t feel bad for it right now, you'll apologize when you aren’t unbelievably annoyed with him. God, it bothers you that the hate weeks, as you’ve titled them, don’t line up this time. You hate that you’re mad at him and he’s not mad at you and truth be told that just makes you mad at yourself more than anything.
“Please, it’s just one scene and then I’ll be out of your hair until you don’t hate me anymore”
“Fine. What scene is it?” You take the script from his hands and flip to the green sticky note he points to. “Start at ‘three boys to a bed’ please” You pause for a moment and look for the line before starting. You may not be a drama major but you know to at least try and get in character, if you read this absolutely monotonous then Tom might as well have asked the wall to help him. So with as much Katherine Pulitzer energy you can muster, you read out the lines from the script.
“Is this really what it’s like in there? Three boys to a bed, rats everywhere and vermin…”
“What, a little different from where you were raised?” Tom replies in his Manhattan accent, teeth clenched. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t at least a little shocked by how quickly he slipped into character. You look up at him before saying thee next line, only to be met with the same angry and restrained aggression you heard in his voice mimicked in his expression.
“Snyder told my father that you were arrested for stealing food and clothing. This is why, isn’t it? You stole to feed those boys.” You look up at him again, already mostly knowing the scene from how many time you’d seen the show on your own, the script there as a crutch if you need it. You gather as much sympathy and understanding as you can in your tone, a stark contrast to his before you switch to confusion, your voice louder than before. “I don’t understand if you were willing to go to jail for those boys, how could you turn your back on them now!?”
“Oh I do not think you are one to talk about turnin’ on folks!” Tom stands up from his chairs and you do the same as you start your line.
“I never turned on you or anyone else”
“Oh no you didn’t you just double-crossed us to your father. Your father!” He’s shouting now, fully in character at this point.
“My father has eyes on every corner in this city!” You’re shouting too, thankful that the practice rooms are mostly sound proof. “He doesn’t need me spying for him. And I never lied. I didn’t tell you everything.” You finish as your voice comes back down to a reasonable volume.
Tom lets out an angry sigh somewhere between a sign and a grunt, teeth still clenched. “If you weren’t a girl you would be tryna talk with a fist in your mouth” Tom turns away slightly and leans against the wall, staring at a ceiling tile.
“I told you that I worked for the Sun, and I did. I told you my professional name is Plumber and it is. You never asked for my real one.”
Tom turns around rapidly, “I wouldn’t think I had to! Unless I knew i was dealing with a backstabber!” He takes another step towards you.
You scoff “Oh and if I was a boy you’d be looking at me through one swollen eye” You step forward as well and hold your fist up like you know Katherine does in the scene. Tom doesn’t say anything though. He doesn't follow up with the next line. You watch as his expression slips out of anger, his eyes soften. He breathes in as if to follow up with the line but his breath gets caught in his throat.
You feel his hand brush against your waist hesitantly a few times, as if he can’t decide if he should go through with it or not before you finally feel the warmth of his skin through your shirt. The room is silent. Only the sound of light even breathing between the two of you for five seconds. Five egregiously long seconds. His other hand grabs your wrist and moves your fist from under his chin until your palm is flat against his shoulder. You and Tom are pretty much chest to chest at this point, both anxiously waiting for the other to move or to make a sound. You realize that you’re not angry at him right now, all the annoyance you had with him had dissipated in this moment.
Tom moves first, leaning in. Both of you close your eyes and his lips falter against your own before a chapped and hesitant kiss followed by a slightly more confident one that you return. There's a pause between the two of you after you both pull away, a couple seconds where you let what just happened really sink in while trying to process it.
“Are you okay?” Tom asks, his accent is some weird mix of New York and his normal one.
“Yeah yeah. I’m okay.” You stumble over your words a bit. “I should probably get back to practicing though. King of New York is actually tough”
“Yeah for sure. I’ll let you get back to it.” Tom opens the door and leaves. He wishes he said another thing. Thanks maybe? You did help him with his lines. Or maybe sorry? He’s not really sure, so he just walks back to the black box, mentally cursing himself.
Tom wouldn’t sing any of the songs for you. Correction, any of his songs for you. Even though you were dying to hear the progress on Santa Fe, he refused, he wanted you to hear it when it was nearly finished, if he could hold off on it until the first show he would. Meanwhile Harrison would sing any song any chance he got, even if Davey wasn’t in them he still would.
“C’mon Tom you’re gonna have to sing it for me at some point” You slump against the locker next to his, your clarinet case hitting your knees as you do so.
“Yeah. Tech week” Tom teases with a smirk, “I already told you, you have to wait. Last time you heard me sing it was like five months ago, you’ll be blown away by the difference, trust me”
“Ugh. You are so annoying” Tom only shrugs and you roll your eyes and turn to Harrison who hadn’t even reached the two of you yet. “Haz make him sing for me”
“Can’t do that darling, he’s persistent” Harrison puts a hand on your shoulder when you sigh, miffed.
“What if I start playing the opening. Then what?”
“You’ll be vamping forever Y/n you don’t want to do that”
“Harrison hold this please.” Harrison holds his hands up as you put the clarinet case in his hands and put the instrument together as quickly as you can.
“Y/n you’re so dramatic.” You don’t respond, you just play the intro to Santa Fe, which is only two repeated notes. Tom cocks his head and looks at you as if to say really? “Why are you like this? If I sing you’ll stop?” You nod and Tom sighs, finally giving in.
“Folks we finally got a headline, ‘Newsies crushed as Bulls attack!’ Crutchies calling me, dumb crips just too damn slow” You continue to play even after he stopped singing. “That’s all you get, you said if I sang, you’d stop, and I sang.”
You roll your eyes again and pack up your instrument, thanking Harrison for holding the case when you take it from his hands. Tom closes his locker and the three of you head your separate ways for class
Tech week had arrived. The start of the most stressful week of the year for anyone involved with the musical. You were sitting in the pit warming up your third of five instruments along with the other musicians while the actors did their vocal warm ups onstage. Your spot in the pit allowed you to see onstage if you looked far enough to your left but only for parts that you weren’t playing in. You definitely wouldn’t be able to see your music and the conductor and the play at the same time. The amount of instruments and stands you have around you has to be some sort of safety hazard but that’s what happens when you have to play five instruments on one part. You’re looking over one part in Seize The Day when a trumpet plays next to your ear, spooking you enough to stop playing. Your friend Laura, being the source, sits in the spot behind you.
“That’s not where you sit” You joke as she leans forwards, elbows on her knees.
“Yeah but I haven’t seen you in a while and I missed you.” She shakes her head at you like it’s obvious.
“Hey! It’s not my fault you went to Aruba for a week”
“Yeah but before that it’s Tom and Harrison’s fault for stealing you from me all the time”  Laura laughs.
“They tend to do that apparently”
“Are you and Tom anything yet?” She asks blatantly.
“No. Why would we be anything?” You ask her back and she deadpans at you.
“You’re kidding right? You kissed in practice room.”
“Would you keep it down? He kissed me and it meant nothing”
“You kissed back and went red as a cherry when you told me”
“And still wish I hadn’t”
“You seen Cindy recently?” She asks. Cindy was playing Katherine and seemed to be having difficulty separating her character from herself, meaning that she is absolutely obsessed with Tom currently and thinks he’s just as enamoured with her.
“Hard not to. Anytime I look up she’s practically hanging off Tom. It’s like if she’s not within his sight, she’ll suffocate.” You roll your eyes. Cindy is nice. Kinda. Most of the time. But she just annoys you. More than anyone else like her has annoyed you. You hate how she treats people that she doesn’t like like they’re scum. She’s a classic Regina George type. Except you think that her getting hit by a bus wouldn’t solve any of her issues with her, maybe it’d make her voice less pitchy and annoying though.
“We can only hope” Laura says, making both of you laugh as she gets up and goes back to her seat.
About an hour and a half into the rehearsal you finally got to hear Tom sing Santa Fe and it gave your whole body chills. He’d found the power and hit the dynamic and emotion he needed, you might’ve started crying if you were watching the show. Tom and Harrison’s dynamic as Jack and Davey made you laugh, even while playing. You loved watching them together, even if you weren’t watching them you could still hear it and picture it in your head, you’ve known the boys long enough that you could probably guess what expressions they wore.
You couldn’t ignore the feeling that hit you a few different times during the show though. The unsettling, sickly, make-you-want-to-curl-up-in-a-ball feeling hit you more than once during the show but was definitely the worst during Something To Believe In. It makes you stiffen and for the first time in years your fingers fumble over the notes you’re supposed to be playing and you don’t have nearly as much air support as you need. The short version is that you sound bad. You’re messing up a part that is super exposed, it’s the only interesting thing happening behind the vocals and now it’s missing and if the gut feeling you already had was bad enough now your cheeks have gone bright red and the embarrassment has set in. Laura looks at you from across the pit, wordlessly asking you what’s wrong. You can only shrug while trying to redeem your note. Your part comes to its end and the conductor gives you that look. The one that tells you to work on it, you can only nod.
You run through it again right at the start of the break and it comes out perfectly.
“What happened?” Laura asks as you put the flute back on its stand.
“No clue. I’m getting water though.” You stand up, grabbing your water bottle as you do and precariously step around the plethora of instruments around you, Laura following. “It was so weird. This feeling in my stomach just kept growing more and more, to the point where I almost couldn’t breath. It happened a couple other times but that one was definitely the worst”
“When else did it happen?” Laura leans against the wall next to the fountain as you fill up your water bottle.
“Uh Jacks interview with Katherine, right before the ‘am I scared, ask me tomorrow’ line-”
“When Jack is being super suggestive”
“Yeah there. And the ‘the only thing I’m following is a story’ bit.” You shrug and take a few sips from your water bottle before filling up what you just drank and closing it, only to see Laura with a knowing grin on her face. “Oh no. What’s that look for.”
“You’re jealous.” Laura declares with a wiggle of her brow
“I am not jealous!” You guys start talking over each other.
“You totally are jealous!”
“Am not! What would I even have to be jealous of?”
“Cindy!”
“I don’t want anything that Cindy Dunn has”
“You want Tom”
“I don’t want Tom!” You nearly shout the last line. “Besides we would be horrible together. We get at each others throats too much. The amount of times I’ve called him an ass to his face and even more to Harrison? We’d be doomed” You and Laura start to walk back into the auditorium.
“Oh no. Y/n is yearning. We can’t let anyone know!” Laura jokes and you can only roll your eyes in response. “If you guys just figured out how to talk over things then you would be really great together. I can see it!”
“Laura, that's a huge ‘if’. We’ve been like this since we met. It’ll take a lot of time and energy that I’m not going to put in unless he does as well and he doesn’t like me like that so why would he?”
“I see how much you hate arguing with him” Laura starts to walk back towards the stage and thee pit, lowering her voice as you guys get within earshot of the people on stage, mainly Tom and Harrison. “I’m sure he hates it just as much”
“Who hates what now?” Tom comes to a bouncing stop next to the two of you, rolling up to the balls of his feet and then back down- the poor boy could never stop moving really.
“Uhm. My brother. He hates our- our dads um stew. Yup. Stew” Laura says with a semi confident nod tacked onto the end of the sentence which was anything but confident. “I’m gonna go over there now” Without another beat, Laura turns and goes back to her spot in the pit.
Tom decides to not ask any questions about what just happened, all three of you know that that didn’t work and Laura’s face is still bright red as she sits down.
“So did ya hear Santa Fe?” Tom asks
“No I must’ve missed that part” You respond with absolutely no hesitation on your part and a mostly straight face.
“You’re annoying. Tell me what you think.” Tom starts to poke at your arm, pulling a smile from you.
“Why do you wanna know?”
“Because I value your opinion. Duh” You roll your eyes, ignoring the small flip in your stomach. The look Tom gives you causes tons more of those same flips. Brown eyes wide, and caring, and hopeful, and endless. You think you could stare in them for forever and never get bored.
“I know what you wanna hear. Yes I got chills” Toms face breaks into a wide smile. “And Seize The Day made me tear up a little”
“‘Some day becomes somehow’” Tom asks, quoting the line he thinks caused you to tear up. You nod. “You always cry at that part”
“I can’t help it! It’s pretty! Stop bullying me, go bother Harrison instead”
“Whatever you say Y/n” Tom chuckles, poking your arm once again as he hops back up onto the stage.
From what you knew, Tom and Cindy only actually kissed on the last tech rehearsal, but it was easy to ignore it. As long as you didn’t look, you would be fine. You could manage that, right? Yeah. You could avoid looking and then your stomach wouldn’t tighten and your head wouldn’t spin.
The first show had gone swimmingly so far, the crowd was good, you were doing great, and you hadn’t let the thoughts of Tom and Cindy infest your mind yet. Anytime you felt they were getting too strong, you’d look over to Laura and she’d do something stupid when she noticed you looking, making you smile and ease your mind a little bit. What you hadn’t anticipated was the crowd's reaction during the shows. You knew the kiss was coming up, you knew the dialogue leading up to it and you and Laura wordlessly chatted throughout most of it, neither of you having to play. But then there was that split moment of silence, no dialogue, nothing, then the crowd cheering. Your breath hitched in your throat so abruptly that you had to let out a small cough, hoping that the audience wouldn’t notice.
It got easier, for the most part. You had created mental cues for when you should focus more on your music and how you sound, hopefully letting the kiss and the audiences reaction fall to the back of your mind while you were playing. It didn’t really hit you that the shows were over until you were playing the bows and exit music for the last time. The uproar of applause towards the end when you knew Tom and Harrison walked out always brought a smile to your face. You were so proud of them, truthfully. They were your best friends.
That night most of the cast and band gathered in Harrison’s living room to celebrate the end of the shows. You were all sitting in a circle playing paranoia and carrying on casual conversation when someone used Tom as their answer for one. It hadn’t occurred to you until then that he wasn’t in the circle.
“I’ll go find him” Cindy starts to stand up from her place on the floor, almost losing her balance as she does so. The person next to her reaches a hand out to try and stablazie her.
“Cindy it’s okay, I’ve got it” You stand up from your spot on the couch, between Harrison and Laura who shuffle closer together to take up the space you had just emptied. As you leave the circle, you miss the glare that Cindy sends you but Laura sends her a dirtier one back.
You already had a hunch about where Tom would be. You, him and Harrison would often find your way there when you were bored or you needed a break from the world. You push open the slightly ajar door to Harrisons room and look out the window. Sure enough Tom is there, sitting on the roof, all alone. You quietly push the door shut and head towards the window as well.
“Whatcha doin out here all alone?” You say as you climb out the window into the brisk night air.
Tom turns to look at you upon hearing your voice as you settle in the spot next to him. He shrugs. “Just wanted to be alone for a bit, away from everyone.”
“Do you want me to go then or can we be alone together?” Tom lets out an airy laugh.
“You can stay” You beam at him and he smiles back, handing you part of the blanket that was around his shoulders so that now you’re both protected from the chill.
Tom’s arm is warm against yours, you find yourself leaning into heat that he provides, your head slowly falling onto his shoulder. You stay like that for a while, overlooking Harrison’s backyard and watching the moon and stars in silence.
“Do you believe in love at first sight?” Tom pipes up, making you raise your head off his shoulder so that you can look at him, brows furrowed together.
“Where did this come from?” Tom’s eyes break away from yours and back to the stars.
“I don't know. I’m just curious”
“I’m not sure. I’d like to think it’s real, but I haven’t experienced it to know if it is.” You can’t ignore the way you feel Tom’s torso slump slightly at your response. “Do you?”
Tom only nods and then the two of you fall silent again, eventually laying back on the rooftop.
“I got no use for moonlight” Tom starts to sing quietly, as if just for you. “Or sappy poetry. Love at first sights for suckers”
“At least it used to be” You sing with him. Tom hums the next to lines on his own before singing the third.
“But I never planned on no one, like you” You fall silent again, peaceful smiles. Tom takes in a quick breath, you hear it and feel it, but he doesn't say anything immediately after. It takes a moment before words come out “I really like you Y/n. I have since I met you. Since we were twelve”
You don’t know how to respond at first. You run through a billion different things to say in your head and none of them seem to fit the way you want them to. When you realize how Tom must be feeling you start to panic a little more. Finally and answer slips out. “Sucker”
“It used to be for suckers!” Tom defends himself with laugh. “Gonna tell me if you feel the same? Or that you at least hate arguing with me?”
“You heard my entire conversation with Laura didn’t you?” You ask, already knowing the answer.
“Oh you mean the one where her brother hates her dad’s cooking? Yeah she’s not very quiet and is horrible at lying. It is so bad” Both of you can’t contain the bright laughs that ring out into the open air.
“So what if I do like you back? Then what?” You mumble.
Tom sits up slightly looking over at you. “So just to clarify you do like me”
“I didn’t say if I did or didn’t i just asked you what would happen if I did” You and Tom nearly talk over each other, wide smiles still plastered on your faces.
“Well I’m gonna need an answer that way I can show you what would happen”
“Well I do” You admit.
“You do?” Tom asks and you barely even start nodding before his lips are on you, soft and sweet like they were in the practice room, but this time you’re smiling into the kiss and it tastes like remnants of his throat coat tea and his post performance gatorade that he always had. His hand finds its way to your cheek and yours to the back of his neck, you ignore the uncomfortable cramp in your neck from the awkward position you’re in. Soon enough but also way sooner than you would’ve liked, Tom pulls away.
“You snuck up on me Tom.” You say, catching him slightly off guard. “It was really weird, because I loved being your friend and then suddenly when we were sixteen it just wasn’t enough anymore”
“Well, I’ll take you on a proper date next week to make up for lost time, yeah?” Tom takes your hand in his as he lies back down and rests it on his stomach.
“I’m up for whatever you got in store. Though we're gonna need to work on that arguing issue” You settle in with your head on Tom’s chest
“We will, for now lets just enjoy my pent house in the sky” Tom flips back on the Manhatten accent.
“You mean Harrisons rooftop?” You question.
“My penthouse. In the sky”
“Whatever you say loser”
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animeniacss · 4 years ago
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A Palette of Emotions - Artist!Taehyung x Teacher!Reader - Chapter 29 - Make A Decision About Your Decision
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Synopsis: Taehyung dreams of being a professional and famous artist one day, but finds that the sea of creativity can be lurking with blood hungry sharks, as well as bland, motionless starfish. Swimming through the sea of opportunities somehow washed him up onto the shore of Bright Star Preschool, as an art teacher. This wasn’t where he expected to be 4 years into his career, but anything to get his big break though, right?
Feat. BTS, TXT, ITZY, Jisoo (BlackPink), Taeyong (NCT)
Genre: Romance, Slow Burn, Love Triangle, Drama, School Setting, Working!AU
Length: approx. 5k words
Chapter 29 - Make A Decision About Your Decision
“Namjoon, I need to talk to you-.” You began, shifting slightly. Namjoon watched as you smoothed out the sides of your skirt, fixing your apron as your eyes lifted to meet his again.
“I was just about to say the same thing to you.” He responded, putting his hands in his pockets. “Would you like to go first? You look more flustered than I do.” Quickly, you covered your ears, trying to see if you could feel the heat rising through your cheeks and to the tips of your ears. Namjoon chuckled a bit. “Sorry.” He added quickly.
“I just wanted to talk to you about the whole… you and Taehyung thing.” You admitted. Namjoon nodded, his small and amused smile straightening out into an unreadable line. You hummed, pressing your hands together in front of you. “I…made my choice.” When you stopped speaking after that, Namjoon’s smile quickly returned. He gently placed a hand on your shoulder, and you looked up. The smile on his face had you wondering what he was thinking, and if it differed from the truth, how would you tell him without hurting his feelings? “Namjoon, I-.”
“You choose Taehyung, didn’t you?” he asked curiously. You didn’t respond right away, so Namjoon only continued. “I could tell the minute you said his name because you looked away.” All you could do was respond with a nervous chuckle. “It’s okay. I kind of had a feeling this is what would happen.” That was a lie, and Namjoon on the inside was crumbling. However, the last thing he would do is showcase that in front of the woman he loves, much less in front of his son’s preschool. “Have you told him?”
“Oh well…uh, about that.” You sighed. “I don’t think I will tell him.” You confessed. Namjoon cocked an eyebrow in confusion. “When I went to tell him, he told me about this huge opportunity he has at the Korean University of Arts…” Namjoon nodded. “And it’s pretty far away. So, I’m worried if I tell him that it’ll…keep him from going.” A soft chuckle escaped your lips. “Saying that out loud makes me sound a bit narcissistic, that the idea of being with me is enough to keep him around.”
“I would do it,” Namjoon said quickly. “So, it’s not a totally unimaginable thought.” A breathy chuckle escaped your lips, stomach fluttering as if a handful of butterflies were trying to escape up and out of your throat. “Besides, there’s a lot here that I’m sure is making his decision tougher than normal.”
“And I don’t want to add it.” You added. “I waited too long and that’s that. I just wanted you to know because…I thought it would be unfair if I didn’t.” Namjoon nodded.
“I appreciate it.” He said. He watched as your head turned towards the school, where Hoseok and Taehyung shuffling the students into a line, some being more unruly than others and requiring Hoseok’s stern voice to get them in line. You smiled a bit. “May I ask you a question, though?” You turned back to Namjoon at the sound of his question. “I was going to ask you this with different intentions but…regardless. My company is having a party and I wanted to invite you. Originally, I meant to ask in the context of a date, but-…” he chuckled, but time, you could feel the pain coming from it. “But, if you’re comfortable, I’d love for you to come just as a friend. I think it would be fun, and maybe clear your head.” For another moment, you didn’t respond. “Only if you want to. I’ll understand if you don’t.”
“That’s not it.” You admitted. “I…think it would be fun. Besides, I know a few people at your job. Like Jimin.” Namjoon smiled, nodding his head. “Just…let me know when it is, okay?”
“Right.” Namjoon had to admit, he was stunned you agreed right after the conversation the both of you had had, but maybe it was your way of coping, your way of dealing with the tidal wave of emotions suffocating you. However, you choose to perceive this evening out with Namjoon, he would make sure you had nothing other than a good time. “I’ll let you get to work.” He spoke. You nodded, waving as Namjoon slipped into his car. He watched as you headed back to the line, hopping behind the students as they disappeared behind the front doors. Ryujin was quick to look up at you as the doors closed behind you, shielding Namjoon from your view. For a moment, Namjoon sat back in his car, closing his eyes and running a hand through his face. A part of his brain told him to cry, but his eyes refused to do so. He was devastated that despite everything, despite knowing you and loving you longer, he lost. All he could think was What did I do wrong? Where did I mess up?
After a few moments, Namjoon let out a deep sigh, started up his engine, and drove down the street. The day had barely started, and he already wanted it to be over.
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Have fun at your meeting. You remember saying to Taehyung at the end of that day. Taehyung grinned at you as he finished packing up. See you in a few days.
I’ll be back soon, so don’t miss me. It’s only an orientation with the CEO to finalize everything.
Yeah, but you’re leaving me with the art duties until then. You remembered Taehyung’s deep, amused laugh that erupted like his chest, and you remember the forced giggle you had to give to keep the mood light. That was already two days ago, and Taehyung would be gone the rest of the week, visiting the campus, filling out paperwork, signing up for classes, and cementing the fact that he would be going there starting the fall. It was as if it was a void that was stuck right in the middle of Bright Star Preschool, and no amount of silly songs and games, or hours of free play with Yoongi outside were enough to keep the kids from thinking about Taehyung.
“Teacher…” Lia said softly, looking up at you. You glanced down, watching as Lia scribbled with some brand-new crayons onto a once-white piece of paper. “When is Mr. Kim back?”
You sighed, smiling softly. “Soon, Lia. He’s doing some important artist work now. So, Mr. Hobi and I are still going to be your art teachers for a bit. How’s that sound?” Lia smiled a bit, nodding her head. “Okay.”
“I made a picture of Mr. Kim and me. I wrote ‘Miss you.” You glanced down at the picture, and where she pointed to the words, some of the neatest preschool words a 4-year-old could create, yet still somehow hit by the hand of a toddler. “And my name.” her name was a bit neater to read. “Mr. Kim likes gray…so his shirt is gray.”
“Very nice. He’s going to love it.” You said happily. Lia’s eyes sparkled, nodding her head. As you continued to walk around, monitoring the kid’s free activities, you couldn’t help but feel off. This was the time the kids usually spent with Taehyung, working on some amazingly intricate craft or colorful project that never fully turned out right, but the creativity from the kids was just as apparent as the creativity from Taehyung. Arriving back at your desk, you sank into your seat, spinning towards your computer and taking the time to search up some children’s nursery rhymes. Hopefully, some background noise of the kids belting out songs would make you feel at ease. When that thought crossed your mind, you knew you must have finally hit rock bottom.
When one of the children’s favorite nursery rhymes, Morning Glory, began playing, you could hear a few of the kids gasp, joy filling their lungs as they began to sing along to the best of their ability. Resting her chin in her hands, she silently watched the kids play for the last bit of time they had to do so before it was time to return to work.
Hoseok slipped into the classroom moments later, the sound of the nursery rhyme filling his ears. A grin formed on his face as he watched the kids singing.
“Oh, I love this song.” He gasped. Quickly, he began singing as well, a few nearby kids giggling at the man but continuing to sing with him. You had only glanced up for a moment, giggling softly to yourself before turning back to your computer momentarily. Hoseok walked farther into the classroom and glanced over at where you sat in the room. He could immediately sense the solemn feeling that surrounded you, even though a smile was painted delicately on your face. He watched you for a moment, as Beomgyu hurried over to you, alerting your attention in his direction as he held a picture up in your direction. The small smile on your face widened as you took the picture into your hands and examined it. The song playing and the kids singing made it hard to make out your conversation with the child, however, he watched you both talk. Beomgyu turned to the wall plastered with pictures created by the kids, obviously begging you to hang the photo up. You nodded, standing up from your seat, the picture still in your hands. Beomgyu jumped up and down in excitement as he followed you to the wall, where you taped up the picture exactly where he requested, beside a previous drawing he had made in Taehyung’s class using paint.
Glancing down at the child, you patted his head and sent him on his way, the child grinning in delight. Once he was gone, you smoothed out your skirt and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. Hoseok took this opportunity to approach you, smiling the closer he got.
“You okay?” he asked curiously, alerting your attention towards him. “Normally you’re singing the nursery rhymes the loudest.”
“I’m just a bit tired today, I guess…” you said softly, pressing your hands together.
Liar. Hoseok immediately thought, but still, he offered a small smile. You turned towards the wall above the board, which housed the dolphin painting you had gotten. It seemed like so long ago now, a present from Seokjin. You remember coming in Monday morning, just as Seokjin had asked. However, instead of sticking it in the hallway, you hung it right up in the room above the board. It was the first thing you saw every day when you walked in. Hoseok, following your gaze, stared at the picture as well. Shuffling closer, he gently took your hand in his, out of view of the children, who were too distracted to notice anyhow. You turned to look at him, and he leaned down slightly so he could whisper to you: “Let me take you out to dinner tonight, okay?” You seemed a bit hesitant, but Hoseok wasn’t done. “Nothing fancy. Let’s go to the bar, have a few drinks, and relax. You deserve it…” Gently, lovingly, Hoseok squeezed your hand in his, smiling sweetly at you. “It’ll be fun…”
“…Okay.” You said softly, offering your friend a smile in return. Slowly, Hoseok removed his hand, putting it on his hip as he turned back to the kids. He quickly hurried over to the kids again, continuing to sing the next song that came up on shuffle, The Tomato Song, a classic. Now, you noticed, Hoseok had a slight spring in his step. Clapping your hands together, the kids turned to you, and you closed the music down. “Okay class, let’s start cleaning up.”
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“This place is even better knowing I’m going to come here.” Taehyung hummed in awe, turning to Jimin. His friend laughed a bit, nodding his head in agreement. The duo had spent the day getting another full tour, being briefed on what the scholarship could entail, and looking over possible courses that Taehyung would take to start his career. It was a long day, a stressful day, but Taehyung was beaming in ways he had never before. Each new thing revitalized him as if he was never tired at all. He spent hours chatting with Mr. Oh about the school, the classes, and the overall path he wanted to take in his artistic career. Mr. Oh listened intensely, smiling all the wild as they chatted.
“Mr. Kim, I must admit, each minute talking with you makes me feel even more excited that you’ve agreed to this.” Mr. Oh said.
“Thank you, Sir, I feel the same way,” Taehyung said.
“I’m amazed you haven’t found success sooner. Surely, you’ve attended various art shows before mine.” Taehyung nodded.
“Yessir, I have. I hadn’t had much success, though. They were either small-scale events or…” Taehyung trailed off, thinking back to almost a year prior, at the art show of Mr. Oh Min Jae. He remembered how furious he was that night, how humiliated he felt knowing his work was dismissed for opinions and not constructive facts. He most likely scowled thinking about it, because a had patted his shoulders. When he looked over, Jimin offered him sympathetic eyes. He knew exactly what was running through Taehyung’s mind, possibly even better and clearer than Taehyung did. The male coughed into his hand. “I’m sorry, Sir. I’ve just had…very unfortunate experiences of people dismissing my work.”
“I can tell by your face.” Mr. Oh hummed. “I’m sorry to hear you’ve experienced that. However, art involves peaks and valleys, high and lows, positives and negatives. You’ve got something special, and I think that your time here will reflect that.” Taehyung nodded, smiling a bit.
“Thank you.” He responded softly.
“With that, I’ll give you the list of classes and let you get on your way. Look it over and I’ll see about setting you up with one of our class representatives to prepare your classes for the first term. If we can’t do it before you have to leave, we can do it over the phone.” Taehyung nodded, both he and Jimin standing up to bow to the man.
“Thank you again,” Taehyung said.
“Yes, thank you.” Jimin nodded. The man smiled, waving to the boys as they excused themselves from the room. They exited the building of the CEO, neither speaking for a few moments. They strode across campus, passing by some straggler students who were making their way between classes, books full of supplies and canvases stacked high in their arms as they made their journey. Jimin was the first of the two to let out a deep sigh when they got off-campus property, headed down the street to their hotel. “Well, that was something.”
“You think I looked too scary before?” Taehyung asked curiously, pursing his lips. Jimin cocked an eyebrow, so Taehyung clarified: “When I thought about Oh Min Jae, I didn’t realize how visibly frustrated I got.”
Jimin chuckled, patting Taehyung on the shoulder. “I don’t think he thought too much into it. He already is practically shoving the scholarship at you. Just don’t worry about it.” Taehyung nodded. “I’m exhausted, can we go back to the room to nap before we get something to eat?”
When the duo arrived in their room, Jimin plopped down on the bed, sighing in relief as comfort overtook his body. Taehyung sat on his bed, turning the TV on to allow some faint noise in the background. As Jimin got himself comfortable, preparing for what could be the best sleep of his life, Taehyung reached into his bag and pulled out a small piece of paper. It was a bit torn, bent in the corners as if it had been moved around and touched several times. Gently, Taehyung opened it, glancing down at the picture inside. It was one of his earliest sketches of you before you had known about and before all of these weird romantic feelings began brewing up inside him. He stared at it, admiring the sketch as if it were a real picture.
I wonder if I’ll ever get to put a real picture of her in my wallet…Taehyung thought to himself. He gently folded the picture back up, slipping it back into place. This will do for now. Taehyung turned to look at Jimin, who was laying under the covers of his bed, watching the TV silently. Taehyung could see his eyes closing a little with every passing second. He could fall asleep any minute. “I should probably get some sleep too…” he mumbled to himself. Slowly, he curled himself under the covers, pulling out his phone to set an alarm around dinner time. The last thing either of them wanted was to wake up late and be starving. Closing his eyes, Taehyung tried to fall asleep.
It took several moments of blackness, silence other than the faint TV which he had already turned down even more as he got under his covers, the fading light of the outside curtain drifting off with every passing moment. He couldn’t sleep. Taehyung threw a tired arm across his eyes, hoping it would only block the light out further, and he let out a frustrated sigh. A lot was on his mind now, and it was racing. School, his friends, and family, his job….
….you.
Didn’t you say you planned to leave once you hit your ‘big break’? Jimin’s voice rang through his mind, and it only frustrated him more. When he turned to look at Jimin, he saw his friend was peacefully sleeping. Jealousy surged over him at the idea that his friend was so peaceful while he was up suffering. Quickly, Taehyung grabbed one of his pillows and tossed it in Jimin’s direction. It missed Jimin, hitting the side of the bed, but it was enough to stir the man awake.
“Hm? What?” Jimin asked, eyes fluttering open. Taehyung quickly turned his head, crossing his arms as he stared at the ceiling.
“You deserve that for keeping me awake.” He said simply, his anger laced with playful fun despite it all. Jimin raised an eyebrow, watching as Taehyung closed his eyes. The shorter boy was quick to hop out of bed, shuffling over to his friend’s bed and pushing him aside. Taehyung didn’t protest, simply cocking his head to see his best friend cling to him, like a sloth. “You haven’t done this in years.”
“Well, you haven’t really needed me too in years,” Jimin said. “What’s on your mind?”
Taehyung was silent for a moment. Where should he start? Jimin waited quietly, his arm thrown over Taehyung’s stomach and his head nestled in the pillow beside him. It was a level of comfort they established long ago and never intended to move from. Taehyung only shifted to make himself more comfortable. “…Do you think she made her decision yet?”
Jimin blinked. He thought back to his conversation with Namjoon a few days prior, about his desire to take her to their company party as a date. He remembered the solemn look on Namjoon’s face when he was asked about it the next day by another coworker, to which he only replied I’m bringing a friend of mine…
“I don’t know.” He admitted. “Why?”
“I want to ask her, but I don’t want to be pushy.” He sighed. “But also…I’m going to leave soon, and it’ll kill me if I don’t find out.”
“…Will it make that big of a difference?” Jimin asked curiously. Taehyung sighed, pursing his lips together as he thought about the question. Would it make a difference? How big of a difference could it make?
“I don’t know. I’ve wanted this opportunity more than anything, but…I didn’t expect to have anything that could possibly keep my home when I got it.”
“Hey.” Jimin pouted, and Taehyung only laughed.
“You know what I mean…” he said. “I don’t know what to do, and as much as I want this so bad, it’s on my mind. Would she do a longer-distance relationship? Would she wait for me? Am I even still in the running anymore? I can’t stop thinking about it.”
“Maybe you should talk to her,” Jimin said. “You’re finalizing all of this scholarship money and classes in the next few days. If you want to make a decision, you should do it sooner rather than later…”
Taehyung knew his friend was right, he often was with matters like this. Letting out a deep sigh, Taehyung nodded. “Let’s not worry now. Get some rest so we can go get dinner.”
“Alright…” Taehyung said. After a minute, Taehyung shifted, glancing over at Jimin. “Uh…Jimin?” he hummed.
“Hmmm?”
“Shouldn’t you…go to your bed?”
“Nah, this is comfortable. I might just go to sleep.” With a yawn, Jimin’s eyes fluttered closed. Taehyung laughed a bit, slipping Jimin’s arm off his stomach and rolled to the other side of the bed. He starred at his wallet, seeing the small corner of the sketch paper poking out a bit from the top. He felt his eyes get heavy, the exhaustion of the day finally starting to overtake him, and he fell asleep wondering what the rest of the week would bring.
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“Are you sure she wants me to come too?” Yoongi asked, looking at Hoseok as he set his phone in his pocket. Hoseok ran a hand through his hair, looking back towards the door. Hoseok had dipped out of the school a bit early, claiming it was to get a table for the two of you at the local bar, giving you some privacy away from being smushed arm and arm at one of the bars. However, Hoseok actually hurried to Yoongi’s high school, meeting him by the front door and practically dragging him along.
“Of course. She doesn’t hate you or anything.” Yoongi laughed, taking a sip of his beer.
“Yeah, I know that.” He assured. “But I figured you’d want to take her out alone the first chance you got.” A thin line crossed Hoseok’s lips, and he set his beer down. Folding his hands together, he rested them under his chin.
“I know.” He said simply. “But I told her this wasn���t meant to be a date. If you’re here with us too, I think she’ll feel a little better.” A small, yet sad smile formed on Hoseok’s face. “I just want to cheer her up. She’s looked upset these past few days since Taehyung told her the news about the scholarship.” Yoongi nodded in agreement.
“Yeah, I know.” He said simply. After another sip of his beer, he heard a voice behind him, one that made both men jump slightly in surprise.
“Yoongi, I didn’t know Hoseok invited you too.” When Yoongi turned around, he saw you standing there, fixing the purse on your shoulder. “Not that I mind, of course.”
“Hey.” Yoongi smiled, watching as you slid into your spot across from the boys. A waiter walked over, and you put in an order for some water.
Hoseok leaned forward a bit, smiling. “Give her an order of what I’m getting too, okay?” he asked the waiter. He smiled, nodding his head before stepping away to retrieve the drinks.
“Hoseok, you know I don’t drink on school nights.” You sighed softly.
“I told you I wanted to take you out for drinks tonight. At least have the one, I won’t tell Mr. Kim.”
“I might,” Yoongi smirked, glancing up at you. You chuckled at his comment, but the smile on your face didn’t last long, soon returning to a neutral stare as your eyes wandered around the packed bar. The waiter returned with your drinks, and you thanked him. After a moment, you looked up at Hoseok, who was also finishing his beer.
“I want to talk to you,” Hoseok said, glancing up at you. Immediately, the frown on your face deepened. You hated that sentence, and you knew the power of anxiety it had on people because you saw the fear in the eyes of your students whenever you would use it. Hoseok hummed, ruffling his hair as he looked at you. “Yoongi-Hyung and I are going to elope in Seoul at the end of the month.”
“WHAT?!” You gasped; eyes wide. Yoongi immediately began choking, slamming his beer on the table and covering his mouth. Hoseok grinned, looking over both of you.
“Nobody else was saying anything and you looked so upset I just had to say something to cheer you up.” Hoseok teased. You passed Yoongi one of your napkins, which he took to wipe his mouth, his coughing slowly subsiding as he patted his chest. Hoseok giggled. “Sorry, Hyung, I didn’t see you take a sip.”
“You filthy liar.” Yoongi gasped, shaking his head. “She would probably date you faster than I would.” Hoseok’s eyes widened his mouth ajar at the man’s quick response back. You covered your mouth, a giggle escaping it though you tried desperately to keep it hidden.
“Oh, I’m glad my sad love life makes you laugh.” Hoseok pouted. When he took an angry sip of his drink, you could only laugh harder, reaching your other hand out to take one of his, and squeeze it tightly.
“I’m sorry that’s not why I’m laughing, it’s just-.” Your sentence got cut off by another giggle. “-that was so unexpected I just had to laugh.”
Yoongi cocked an eyebrow. “But the elopement joke wasn’t unexpected?” He snickered a bit. Hoseok looked down at your hand, which was still grasping hold of his own. When he set his glass down, he held your hand tighter. He smiled gently as he heard you finish your little giggle fit, finally lifting your glass and taking a sip of the drink Hoseok had ordered for you.
“I’m glad you’re laughing, at least.” He admitted softly. “Even if it’s at my expense.” Again, you had to chuckle.
For a while, the three of you chatted normally as friends do over dinner and drinks. It was nice, something none of you had done in a long while. You made sure the beer lasted a majority of the night, not wanting to get any more after that. However, just as you finished it off, setting it beside your empty dinner plate, Yoongi spoke up.
“Can I ask you a serious question?”
“Another random elopement announcement?” you asked. Yoongi shook his head.
“Hoseok told me about everything with Taehyung in detail while we waited for you to get here.” He said. You glanced at Hoseok, who blocked his response by stuffing a bite of rice into his mouth. “What do you plan to do?”
“Nothing.” You said simply. “He had a good opportunity and I don’t want to hold him back with my indecisiveness.”
“But is it indecisiveness if you already made your decision?” Yoongi asked curiously. You sighed. “I know you just don’t want to feel like you’re holding him back.”
“I know.”
“But he’s waited this long. Don’t you think he has a right to know?”
“I don’t think it’ll change much of anything, Yoongi. He’s decided to take this scholarship and…that means he’s moving away. I don’t know if I can handle a long-distance relationship, I’ve barely ever had a close-distance one…And it would be unfair to put him through that for my sake.”
“So… everything you did these past few months have been for nothing,” Yoongi asked. You looked up at the man as he leaned forward a bit. “Okay, okay. Let’s go with what you’re saying and decide you’re not telling him for his sake. What about you?”
“Me?” you asked, raising an eyebrow. Hoseok looked over at Yoongi, who had on as neutral of an expression as he always did.
“Yes, you.” He said simply. “You always say you do things for other people. What do you do for yourself?”
“Hyung maybe that’s enough-.” Hoseok said softly. He just wanted to cheer you up with some drinks, not have an intervention.
“I…I don’t know what you mean.” You responded.
“Listen. Both you and Taehyung are my coworkers and I really care about the both of you, as individuals and otherwise. You’ll only make yourself more depressed and upset if you keep this to yourself, and not only that, it’ll make Taehyung upset that he never gets a straight answer for you.”
“Even if I did decide to tell him, Yoongi, he wouldn’t stay just because of me.”
“Would it be so bad if he did?” Yoongi asked, raising an eyebrow. “I’m sure you both could figure something out; you act like it’s one or the other. You talk like him staying around to be with you is such a bad thing.”
“I-.” You sighed. Quickly, you thought back to Namjoon a few days prior, outside the school.
I would absolutely do it, so it’s not a totally unimaginable thought. But I’m sure there are other things keeping him here as well.
Yoongi was right, and you knew that. Taehyung had a right to know how you felt, and whatever happened from that was destined to happen from the beginning. You glanced to the side, eyes following around your waiter as he moved from table to table. Yoongi sighed.
“Listen, I know this is something on your mind and I don’t want to make you feel guilty or pressure you. I just thought you should see it from different angles, like ours or even Taehyung’s, I-.”
“Don’t worry.” You said softly, glancing at him. “You make very good points. I have a lot more to think about than I thought I did.”
Hoseok, who could sense the slight panic, the slight nervousness rising in your voice with every word you said, reaching out and took your hand in his once again. You glanced over to him next, smiling a bit as he squeezed your hand.
“We only want you to be happy, you know. And we both know you not saying anything will just…keep you unhappy.”
“…I know…” you said, squeezing his hand tightly in your own. When the waiter approached, you immediately called him over, pointing to your empty beer glass. “Can I get a refill on this, please? Maybe two?”
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academiadaisies · 4 years ago
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my struggles with studying
I don’t expect a lot of people to read this, and I’ll probably end up embarrassed to have typed this all up and posted it by tomorrow, but I think it’s important for me to get this out and away from myself.
I appreciate anyone who reads this, and welcome completely anyone who is/has been in a similar situation to me and wants to talk about it or has some tips. I don’t have a lot of people to talk to about it, I definitely feel like anyone I’m close to will not be a lot of help, and I don’t want to be a mental burden, with them knowing my problem, wanting to help, but not knowing what to do, and blah blah blah... Just know, anyone is completely welcome to reach out to me. I know a lot of people say that online, but I’m just a little cancer moon, cancer rising ;). I’ve got ears and struggles too. Sometimes things are difficult. :)) <3
School has always been my demise. I was basically a corpse just going class to class, making little contribution and writing down what the powerpoint said. I would zone out - not realising at all, come back to myself and suddenly the whole class was doing work, and I would have to swallow my pride, interrupt the person next to me and ask what we were supposed to do.
But my nights were wasted too. I guess I was never really taught to study, and everything I had tried for myself never seemed to work. But I didn’t try often. I remember coming home and turning on my computer to watch the next episodes of my show of the week, my mind in a dull and empty buzz, and next thing I knew it was midnight.
Growing up there was no schedule or routine. No one was really checking I had done my homework, no one checking I was showered or that I had brushed hair. There were no rules either. No specific screen time, no food rules, no bedtime. I know why, my mum was a very hard worker, having a daughter, a job, and university, and I am so grateful for her. She was busy. But it just meant I never knew much discipline. There was no structure, but I wasn’t forgotten. There was no food in the house, but there was money, and I - having no sense of diet - would spend more than was good for me on junk; a six pack of crisps a day, frozen pizza... and today that has never ended, it’s something of an addiction now. The lack of restraint and discipline is apparent everywhere in my life.
In school is where it is at it’s absolute worst. It’s not even an issue of my intelligence. The absolute last thing I want to come across as is conceited, but I did better than I deserved my first two years of high school exams having never studied for them, except maybe a bit of rereading and desperate attempts to memorise the night before. I passed everything, bar one, and sometimes with A’s.
But last year was inarguably my worst year ever, and it has bled into this year too. My attendance was below 50%, I came in maybe two or three days a week, sometimes only finally getting the motivation to show up in the afternoon, and even then I would hide away in pupil support classes, still not doing any work. My mum phoning me and screaming down the line as soon as she got the absent text. Me not knowing how to explain that I just couldn’t physically force myself to get up and ready. I started with 5 subjects and finished with 2, both of which I initially failed, but those grades were redacted because people argued the SQA were not grading fairly, basing grades on location instead of merit, and so I scraped by with two C’s. I absolutely would not have passed if not for the pandemic.
This year is hard to tell where I would be in a normal situation. I like to believe it was going to be so much better. The idea of leaving high school and entering college*. It was a fresh start. I was supposed to get my work done the day it was handed out, I was supposed to be more extroverted, and become a leader like I always wanted. But, of course, it’s all online. I think a major benefit of it is I don’t have much excuse not to be in class anymore. I can (and usually do) wake up minutes before the class starts, and do it all from bed, so if I was left to my own devices to get myself there and back, I’d bet my attendance has skyrocketed from what I it would have been. Though, my college is quite far, and I think my mum seeing to that I was on a bus, or even not in the house when she has to leave, would have been enough to ensure I was there too. If it was in person I would have no where to hide too. I wouldn’t get to have my camera off and play games during classes and not take notes, the lecturers would see. I’d have to take notes and I don’t usually do that. I wish I had. But then that just begs the question of would it be a repeat of high school? Would I be a corpse that goes through college classes blankly instead of high school ones? I really don’t know what to think. But today my college work is suffering. I have seven vital pieces of work long overdue, and I think the weight of all of them on my brain stops me from doing even one.
*If you’re not familiar with the system here, college is basically a stage after high school but below university in Scotland, that not everybody goes to. I’m not sure the school systems everywhere in the world but it’s not the equivalent of sixth form college in England, or what’s called college in the US, which would be university here. I’m sorry if this sounds dumb because there’s probably this everywhere in the world but I just want to clarify what stage I’m at exactly. I’m taking a HNC which is kind of the equivalent of first year university.
And so it leads me to believe I have ADD/ADHD. I really am not about to self diagnose. Although it might be enough for some, I often worry I’m a bit of a paranoid person, and that I like to jump to the most “extreme” conclusions, but I don’t think my livelihood makes it totally unlikely.
I find myself devoting my time and what motivation I have to things that just don’t matter. I’ve memorised maps of the US, Europe, Scotland and Ireland. I took up interests in religion and astrology, buying crystals as if they were coming to save me like all the TikToks say. I’ve taught myself bits of piano, British Sign Language, chess, Teeline shorthand and Morse code, just to give up. I even made it to 100 days on Duolingo learning Scottish Gaelic before I stopped that too. Engrossed in wide varieties of things that I’d love to be great at, abandoning it because I’ve decided I’m bored.
But the worst waste of my time is always spent on my phone. I am a huge advocate for downtime, not every single second has to be productive. But it’s never good to have a 12 hour daily screen time average.
I can never concentrate either. I can’t force myself to. As I write this I have an essay due I’ve had for a month, and I’m going to have to do it all tomorrow. I don’t understand why I can’t physically force myself to get it done. I always think, “why am I on TikTok when I have an essay due?” And I never really have a reason. Even my driving instructor told me to get tested because, especially nearing the end of the lessons, my attention starts to waver, and I find her having to change gears for me sometimes, and warning me to stop looking at whatever might pass by.
I have a little list of priorities in my mind too. I keep reminding myself that I have this essay and this assignment to do, but I also have ideas of starting a blog or reading a book. The school work is first in the list of priorities, I know it needs to be done first and so I take it to the extreme and can’t seem to do anything meaningful at all until it’s gone. Of course, it never is gone, I never do it, and I find myself scrolling social medias all day, a perfectly anodyne time waster. No substance and no thoughts.
But I’m a perfectionist too, with very little confidence. I can tell part of me puts it off because it needs to be as good as it possibly can be, and another part tells me I’ll start it later, I’ll feel better about it later. I have big ideas, that if only I could force myself to do, would be great, but the idea of it not being good enough only puts me off. I’d not do the work until it’s at the point where the excuse is “it’s only bad because I didn’t give myself enough time to do it,” because of the fear of the possibility “it’s bad because I’m bad at it.”
Part of my inability to really do anything I think also had to do with depression. ADD/ADHD makes my life chaos. My room is a mess, there is no organisation or structure in my day, there is no motivation to fix it, no understanding of how to fix it. I’m a very intuitive person, because I have to be. Any decision I make is unknown to me until it’s happening really. I can’t plan when I’m starting work, sometimes I just have to hope I get the motivation to open my laptop. I think depression feeds off the ADD/ADHD symptoms. My room is messy because I can’t be organised, then my mindset worsens because I have such a terrible, unlivable space with no motivation to do anything about it, and it just stays that way. I can’t concentrate long enough to do work, then my mindset worsens because it means I have work overdue, that will have bad consequences, people disappointed in me, and etc, etc. I’m sorry, I don’t think I’m articulating myself well here. I’m intuitive in decisions but I’m also an overthinker. Or maybe just more of a worrier. I don’t do the work and so, every time my phone pings I jump and check cautiously because I fear it’s my lecturer messaging me that I’m off the course. The depression really took a terrible toll on my life. I won’t get too into it but I can hardly talk to friends, find the motivation to shower, or even go outside. All I find myself doing is lying in bed staring at a screen. I don’t know what else I can really do about it.
And the worst part is, in my mind, I have myself convinced that it’s not even that bad. That it’ll be okay tomorrow, I’ll change tomorrow, as if I’m not long past the point of this just being a little off day.
But one thing I do I know is a symptom of ADD/ADHD, which consumes my whole mind, is my hyperfixation. I won’t go too deep but basically for just over a year it’s been an honestly unsubstantial book I read. Loved by many, but nothing special, in comparison. I’ve only read it maybe twice all the way through but it never leaves my mind. I relish in any and all fan works, stalking the ao3 works, refreshing the tumblr tag. I can just stand and jump and pace, while listening to one song on repeat, thinking about the characters in all kinds of scenarios for hours on end. I can imagine the main character as me in everything I do; as I pick up a book from my bookshelf, as I walk my dog, as I lay down at night. I constantly compare myself to him too, feeling bad that I’m not as similar or good. I hate it. I don’t know if I even like the book anymore, I don’t think it’s possible to tell, I’m just obsessed with it.
I don’t know what I’m supposed to do about it really. The NHS don’t diagnose ADHD in adults, and I’m only 18. I’ve been this way my whole life but no one ever paid much attention to it. When I told my mum I think I have depression, she laughed at me, then got really angry, saying I’m not depressed just lazy, before buying me flowers and telling me she was worried I was going to hurt myself. Now I feel like I can’t speak about anything serious like this rationally because she looks for every reason that there is no problem, and if there is it’s the worst possible case, and “oh I’ve been a terrible mum.”
I don’t understand my problem. I have big dreams and goals for my life, I know what I am doing now will never get me anywhere but still that knowledge is not enough to get me to do what I need to. I’ve even written this post over eight days, for all the distractions and lack of motivation I’ve had to finish it. It’s a never ending cycle, but I really hope having this out there now will spark something in me. I’m sure this will make someone feel better about their situation now too, and that’s totally okay! If it can help someone, right? ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
I’m sorry I probably brought up a lot of completely irrelevant stuff, and went into tangents at times, but I just wanted to stress how it all plays into each other. They’re all connected, which brings a lack of motivation and discipline to my life and my work. I just want to let it all go.
Again, I really don’t think many people will read this but anyone is completely welcome to message. If anyone has some tips for people who can just never concentrate, or also anyone who is in social sciencey type courses (psychology, sociology, politics esp) and has some tips for doing that too I’d be so grateful. :) <3 (also this is a repost because I tried posting last night but it wouldn’t go to the tag, hope it works this time)
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jaehyunhour · 5 years ago
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the breakfast club | four
art student!reader x art student!jaehyun college AU
summary: in which you have to write a short film for one of your classes and somehow end up falling in love.
pairing: jaehyun x fem!reader
980 words.
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“hi, welcome in!” yn says, with a bright smile on her face, one of the cafe’s regulars walking into the store. “what can i get started for you today?”
“hmm, let me think about it.”
“take your time,” she says softly. “remind me your name agai— wait! it’s jeno, right?”
“yeah! it is. i hoped you’d remember by now, i come in here almost every day.”
“i don’t have the best memory, but i promise i’ll remember from now on… jeno. do you know what you want?” she asks, noticing that a few other customers have come in and gotten behind him in line.
“surprise me, i’ll take whatever you give me.”
yn picks up a cup, scribbling something on it and setting it to the side for someone else to make. hannah picks it up moments after and begins making it.
“how much do i owe you?” jeno asks, pulling his wallet out from his front backpack pocket.
“don’t worry about it! think of it as an apology for not remembering your name,” yn says, flashing her award-winning smile at him.
“thank you,” jeno responds, going to sit at the corner table and beginning his work. yn takes the rest of the orders and helps hannah make drinks.
“yn, i don’t think you should have given him the drink for free.” hannah says.
“why not?” she asks, concern on her face.
“what if he gets the wrong idea? what if he thinks you’re into him when in reality you’re just being too nice.”
“i suppose that could be true… here, let me take the drinks out.” yn grabs the tray, delivering drinks to the customers and finally bringing jeno his drink. he takes a sip and yn looks at him excitedly.
“do you like it? it’s my favorite!”
“it’s great, yn!” jeno exclaims. “i think now it might be my new favorite, too.”
“study hard! i have to get back to work.” yn says, returning back behind the counter.
for some reason, today time is moving so fast. before yn can even realize, her shift is almost over. the cafe has been pretty slow today a“nd yn stares at the clock and watches it tick, waiting for it to hit 7 p.m. so she can finally clock out and go home. she has a mountain of homework to do, and the school year has barely started. when people warned her about how hard junior year was, she thought they were over exaggerating. they really weren’t. her gaze is fixed on the clock, her vision focusing and un-focusing as the time passes until she hears the bell of the cafe door. “welcome in!” she says, not breaking away from the clock.
“yn?” asks a familiar voice. finally, she looks away from the clock and at whoever has just walked in.
“doyoung! jungwoo! it’s good to see you guys.”
“we didn’t know you worked here! we come here pretty often, but i guess we’ve just come when you haven’t been working.”
“what’s up? what can i get for you?”
“uh, two iced americanos please.”
“got it. hey, my shift’s over in about 10 minutes if you wanted to stick around and maybe we can talk a bit more about the project?”
“yeah, no problem!” doyoung and jungwoo pay for their drinks, and sit at a booth directly across from the register waiting for yn to clock out. ten minutes later, she emerges from the back of the cafe with her backpack, and she has changed out of her work clothes. she sits across from doyoung and jungwoo, taking her laptop out and pulling up the prompt for their project.
“so the prompt says: take a film of your choice — whether it be a classic, your personal favorite, etc. — switch the genre, and create a short film of your spin on the film. this project is in collaboration with the film department, so you may use their help blah blah… do you guys have any ideas for it?” yn asks.
“i have an idea for the genre we could write,” jungwoo says.
“the most difficult part is that we don’t really know anyone in the film department whose help we could get, and no one that we really know in the writing department either is good at film.” doyoung says.
“oh don’t worry! my best friend mark is in the film department, and i’m sure we could get him to help us, plus he has other friends in the department too. what’s your idea for the genre, jungwoo?”
“i was thinking we could write a satirical horror short film.”
doyoung nods.
“that’s a great idea!” yn says, excited. “have you guys ever seen the movie the breakfast club?”
doyoung and jungwoo nod.
“maybe we can spin that? we could keep the concept somewhat similar — you know, the characters are in detention and the whole theme of them bonding, but we can add something spooky into it. maybe some ghosts, or zombies, or something that we can make really dramatic to the point where it’s just funny and not scary.”
“i think that’s a great idea yn!” doyoung exclaims. yn smiles at them and begins typing away on her computer, creating a document and sharing it with the two.
“i just made a document and shared it with you guys so we can work on the project. i’ll put some ideas on it tonight, but don’t feel the need to work on it diligently. after all, it’s the weekend!” yn looks up, and starts packing her stuff up when she sees that mark is there to pick up her and hannah. “my friend is here, i have to go home, but i’ll text you if anything. have a nice weekend, guys!”
“you too, yn!” jungwoo says, watching her walk away.
“she’s nice,” doyoung points out.
“yeah! she really is.”
(a/n: sorry jaehyun isn’t actually in this chapter, i promise you soon things are going to pick up and it’ll be great. thank you for reading!)
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tessatechaitea · 4 years ago
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Justice League International #7 (1987)
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Kevin Maguire not really trying looks an awful lot like John Romita Jr at his best.
Ah! It feels good to be back! Taking a crack at John Romita Jr while he's just sitting there not doing anything particularly wrong. Just going about his business pretending to be a comic book artist! I don't know what John Romita's politics are but I bet he now agrees with Donald Trump on one thing: naming your kid after you is a huge fucking mistake. Was all that previous nonsense poisonous, vile, and toxic? I suppose one could argue the point. But I'd also guess that somebody arguing that point has never seen John Romita Jr's art. Or perhaps they have seen it and like it because they have a terribly underdeveloped sense of aesthetics. Otherwise nobody would argue with me at all! They'd just read the previous poisonous, vile, toxic nonsense and nod their heads in agreement while pausing for a second to snort a line of Adderall. Fine, I'm sorry, JRJR! Obviously you're an artist! Drawing squinty people with block heads and weird noses holding geometric guns without a single curve on them absolutely falls under the definition of art! Although I draw the line at accepting that Rob Liefeld is an artist. That's a bridge too far! What the fuck does that even mean, "a bridge too far"? It must be a term bombers in WWII used, right? "What the fuck do you mean, carpet bomb Dresden?! If we fly past the Geralthauskopfplatz Bridge, we're definitely getting scrawked by anti-aircraft flak, you bingehart!" Did that sound like an authentic American bomber pilot from the 40s? It's not like Catch-22 is my favorite book or something. Wait. Catch-22 is my favorite book. I guess I'm just no good at written impressions. I assure you it sounds exactly what you'd expect from an American pilot in the Forties if you heard me do the impression live. Also, this is probably the last month of my life where I'll be able to say, "Catch-22 is my favorite book." Because I'm over 500 pages into Gravity's Rainbow and it's just as fucking amazing as everybody who has pretended to read it says it is. This issue begins with Guy Gardner regaining consciousness after having been violently assaulted by his employer.
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Why was the mouse glowing green?!
In my memory, Guy Gardner's change from dickhole to sweetest guy on the team came after Batman punched his lights out. But apparently that isn't the case. It's possible this new whack on the head is the cause or maybe it's something a bit later. I bet an editorial mandate came down which said they couldn't have Guy suffer serious head trauma from Batman punching him. So they had to add this new scene where Guy basically gives himself the head trauma that results in a catastrophic change in personality. The Justice League didn't quite finish destroying The Gray Man last issue so that story gets resolved pretty quickly this issue. Doctor Fate transported him to the Realms of Order where a big blob of Order disintegrates him. Which is what he ultimately wanted. It's what we all ultimately want. It's just you don't know that you want it until you've lived long enough for all the wonder to be bled out of life. That's why he's the Gray Man! Some people think life's too short but at 49, I'm beginning to suspect that it's way too fucking long.
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This comic book passes the Reverse Bechdel Test: "Any story that has only one woman in it and every scene she's in, she's treated like a sexual object."
With The Gray Man out of the way, it's time to get to the important part of the story: turning the Justice League of America into Justice League International! I wonder how many people this change pissed off in the 80s? Fucking globalist woke elite bubble bullshit! People talk in derogatory terms about the coastal bubbles but they absolutely shouldn't. I won't disagree that I grew up in a totally different environment in the San Francisco Bay Area than people who grew up in the Midwest. A bubble? Sure. But it was a fucking good thing. I was recently showing the Non-Certified Spouse some of the station breaks from local stations in the late 70s and early 80s out of San Francisco and she was amazed at the representative shorts these stations presented, especially KTVU's "Bits and Pieces." Sure, there were the ones about ethics and morality humorously presented with a horse and bulldog puppet. But there were also the ones that showed different ethnicities and their lives, often ending with "I'm proud to be a Chinese American!" or "I'm proud to be a Black American!" The one about Japanese Americans even mentioned how Japanese families were put in interment camps during World War II. One was about Italian Americans and instead of Italian history, it just showed Italian art and various activities of people in the Italian community. One of the Japanese American shorts just had a Japanese American kid having to explain how he was tired of answering questions about being Japanese in America because he was fourth generation and just American as anybody else. But I guess that kind of commie pinko hogwash is why I'm a big fat America hating socialist! As I was saying before my politics politely interrupted (my politics interrupting impolitely would look like this: Trump voters should be forced to shit in their own mouths for all eternity), the main thrust of this story is to set up Justice League International. Judging by the cover, that means hiring some guy with a bucket on his head from Russia and Captain Atom, another white American male.
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Ah yes! The introduction of the best character of the series: Big Barda!
Big Barda might not be on the team but at least there's another female character. Sure, Doctor Light was sort of on the team for three pages. And pretty soon, Fire and Ice will join. But it's mostly just been poor Black Canary having to put up with Booster and Blue Beetle's jokes about banging her. Max and J'onn discuss the United Nations possibly backing the Justice League while Superman talks respectfully with President Reagan. What a mistake! The biggest do-gooder on the planet normalizing fucking Ronald Reagan! He should be scolding him with a liberal smattering of Kryptonian tsk-tsks! That's when a Kryptonian gives you a little burst of heat vision every time you deny the AIDS crisis or invoke the spectre of Welfare Queens or destroy the economy by lowering the top marginal tax rates pretending that the money saved will trickle down to everyone instead of fat corporate cats simply keeping all the extra for bonuses and investors. Fuck that guy. I'm so mad now!
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Of all the digs they could have taken with Reagan, they poke fun of his dementia?! Christ, Giffen and DeMatteis.
Hal Jordan drops by headquarters to give Guy a good talking-to but Guy doesn't need it because he's suffered a traumatic head injury on top of his brain damage alongside Batman's sucker punch to the face and now he's Mister Sweetbeans. And because he's acting so nice, nobody gives a shit that this is actually a medical emergency. Backing Maxwell Lord is a computer satellite in space. Is it Brother Eye already?! Are they already working together in 1987?! Or is it just some alien gizmo from the Millennium bullshit coming up? I don't remember! Heck, this Maxwell Lord might even be a Manhunter! Anyway, the satellite begins destroying shit on Earth with a giant heat beam. The Justice League, having nearly nobody who can do anything about it, doesn't call Superman to fix the problem. Instead, they decide to spend precious hours borrowing a space shuttle from STAR Labs to launch them into space to battle the space station. Also, they leave Guy Gardner back at headquarters on monitor duty. Because who needs the guy with experience battling in space with a ring that can protect every other member of the League while in space? Also the ring is the greatest weapon in the universe. So, you know, sideline that guy, right?
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It's possible this was in the era where Superman couldn't survive in space either, really. But then that's even more incentive to get fucking Guy Gardner up there with them!
The Justice League manages to stop the satellite's destruction but mostly only because it was a huge set-up so every nation could see them save the world. Everybody wants them defending the planet now so the United Nations agrees to back them with one condition: two new members, one to pacify the U.S. and one to pacify the U.S.S.R.
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I've read a lot of ridiculous things in comic books but Rocket Red's power levels being nearly equal to Captain Atom's might be the most ridiculous.
I love how Captain Atom's power level is 9+ but Rocket Red's power level is 8.43 instead of 8+. I guess the accuracy of whatever system they're using breaks down over 9. Captain Marvel quits the team and Batman steps down as leader so J'onn can lead. And that's about it, I guess! The issue ends with some kind of flim-flam about how its the 80s and we've become a global world and boundaries just don't work anymore and superheroes are cool as shit. I guess it's inspirational or something. There's still just one woman on the team though. Justice League International #7 Rating: B. Seven issues in and the Justice League has defeated two villains who weren't actual threats to anybody. They were just scams to get the Justice League some press. They also beat up and killed an old guy who was just frustrated with the boredom that came with the immortality the Lords of Order forced on him. So all in all, they're nearly as terrible as the New Titans who practically only ever battled relatives while putting the residents of New York City in danger every time.
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Through time and space 14
You scroll through your messages, it turns out your family went back to Bobby’s and that Dean finished up fixing the Impala. You smile when you see the picture Katie sent, the picture is of Dean leaning against the hood of the car smiling like an idiot. You dial Katie’s number and press call.
“Hey (Nickname).” Katie says answering the phone.
“Hi, so Dean actually got on a plane?” You say in response walking away from the control room.
“Yeah, about a day after you left with the Doctor. Thanks for that by the way.”
“How long did it take you to notice I was gone?”
“Not that long.” You then notice that you’re farther than you wanted to be… you somehow ended up by the swimming pool.
“Well shit.” You say, confusing Katie.
“What?” She asks.
“I went the wrong way… instead of going to my room, I ended up at the swimming pool with no idea how to get back to the control room.” Katie snickers. “Not funny Katie.”
“It kind of is.” You groan, before losing your footing for a moment. You tell your sister you’ll call her back later. You manage to find the control room again.
“What just happened?” You ask.
“She’s dead. The TARDIS is dead.” The Doctor mournfully says. You notice that Rose is gone, and you notice the green light coming from underneath the control.
“I don’t think the TARDIS is all dead just mostly dead.” You say you smile a little bit when you realize you made a Princess Bride reference. “I say that because of that blinking green light.”
“Green light?” The Doctor asks. He follows where you’re looking and starts rummaging around. “That’s all we need. We’ve got power! Y/N, Mickey, we’ve got power! Ha!” The Doctor looks like a kid at Christmas. The madman that owns the magic blue box says it lives, confusing Mickey.
“What?” Mickey asks.
“The TARDIS isn’t a machine Mickey, it’s alive.” You explain.
“It’s tiny. One of those insignificant little power cells that no one ever bothers about, and it’s clinging to life, with one little ounce of reality tucked away inside.” The Doctor says.
“Enough to get us home?” Mickey asks.
“Not yet. I need to charge it up.”
“We could go outside and lash it up to the National Grid.”
“Wrong sort of energy. It’s got to come from our universe.”
“But we don’t have anything.”
“There’s me.” The Doctor cradles the green light in his hands and blows on it. The light gets brighter. “I just gave away ten years of my life. Worth every second.”
“So the TARDIS is recharging how long does that give us?” You ask.
“24 hours give or take.”
“In that case let’s take a look around.” When the group splits up you go with Mickey instead of Rose or the Doctor.
“Why’d you come with me?” Mickey asks.
“Because I have no interest in meeting Rose’s dad or staying in the TARDIS, besides you’re always ending up forgotten, somehow.” You reply. Mickey chuckles.
“Thanks, Y/N.” He says.
🐝 🐝 🐝 🐝 🐝
Unsurprisingly you and Mickey get into a bit of a situation. The two of you get mistaken for someone you’re not.
“What the hell are you doing with Y/N Holmes, Ricky?” The person who snagged you and Mickey asks.
“I think you’ve gotten us confused with someone else.” You say. “I’m Y/N Winchester and this is Mickey.”
“I know the wife of Mycroft Holmes when I see her.” You wrinkle your nose slightly- why the hell would you marry Mycroft? Mickey rolls with it.
You pull your gun out of the waistband of your jeans and fire a few shots into the ceiling causing everyone to freeze. “I will put away the gun when you untie my friend and stop calling me by someone else’s name.” You say in a calm tone of voice. “Yes, my name is Y/N, however, I am not a Holmes.”
“Y/N Holmes can’t shoot worth crap boss.” One of the men says. “I reckon that we should do what she says.” The man called Ricky reluctantly agrees. They free Mickey he looks a bit scared of you.
“Do you always keep that thing on you?” He asks.
“Pretty much. Now, let’s figure out what in hell’s name is happening.”
After awhile everyone is reunited and the Doctor explains Cybermen. “This day keeps getting better and better.” You sarcastically state.
“Y/N.” Rose says. “Not the time.” You roll your eyes as your phone goes off. You dig it out of your pocket and look at the contact and just simply turn off your phone.
“They don’t need to know about this.” You mutter as you put your phone away.
“Your family?”
“Yeah.” You then notice all the people lined up outside on the street. “Oh my god.”
“What?”
“Take a look.” Everyone does so and the look the Doctor has on his face is ‘oh shit’ once out of the van you go with Rose, the Doctor, and Pete (Rose’s dad). The four of you duck in an alleyway behind trash cans. The Doctor uses his sonic to confuse the Cybermen walking past.
🐝 🐝 🐝 🐝 🐝
Mickey says he doesn’t want to be the tin dog anymore. “What do you mean by a tin dog?” You ask. Mickey shakes his head not answering the question.
“If we survive this, I’ll see you back at the TARDIS.” The Doctor says, grabbing your arm and running off with you and Mrs. Moore. The three of you head to the cooling tunnels. You button up the flannel you’re wearing, glad that you decided to wear one of your brothers’.
“It’s freezing.” Mrs. Moore says.
“Any sign of a light switch?” The Doctor asks.
“No, nothing.” You reply.
“I’ve got these. A device for every occasion.” Mrs. Moore hands both you and the Doctor a flashlight on a headband. Both of you put them on.
“Haven’t got a hotdog in there, have you? I’m starving.” The Doctor says causing you to roll your eyes.
“Of all the things to wish for. That’s mechanically recovered meat.”
“I know. It’s the Cyberman of food, but it’s tasty.”
“Doctor focus.” You say.
“Right, of course, sorry Y/N.” The Doctor replies. “Let’s see where we are.” Cybermen line the walls. You let out a small gasp. “Already converted, just put on ice. Come on.”
“Are you sure those things aren’t activated?” You ask. The man from the planet Gallifrey taps on a face of a Cyberman. No reaction.
“Let’s go slowly. Keep an eye out for trip systems.” The Doctor advises. He then makes small talk with Mrs. Moore. “How did you get into this, then, rattling along with the Preachers?”
“Oh, I used to be ordinary. Worked at Cybus Industries, nine to five, until one day, I find something I’m not supposed to. A file on the mainframe. All I did was read it. Then suddenly I’ve got men with guns knocking in the middle of the night. Life on the run. Then I found the Preachers. They needed a techie, so I just sat down and taught myself everything.” Mrs. Moore replies.
“What about Mr. Moore?”
“Well, he’s not called Moore. I got that from a book, Mrs. Moore. It’s safer not to use real names. But he thinks I’m dead. It was the only way to keep him safe. Him and the kids. What about you two? Got any family, or…?”
“I’ve got three older siblings. Mom died when I was little and my dad died fairly recently.” You reply.
“Oh, who needs a family? I’ve got the whole world on my shoulders. Go on, then. What’s your real name?” The Doctor adds in.
“Angela Price. Don’t tell a soul.” Mrs. Moore, well Angela replies.
“Your secret is safe with us.” You say.
“Doctor, did that one just move?” Angela asks shining her flashlight at one of the Cybermen.
“It’s just the torchlight. Keep going, come on.” The Doctor replies as another Cyberman comes towards you three. “They’re waking up. Run!”
The three of you climb up a latter to somewhere safer at least for the moment. The Doctor seals the trapdoor with his screwdriver. You guys walk along a corridor where there’s a lone Cyberman. “You are not upgraded.” It says.
“Yeah? Well, upgrade this.” Angela retorts. She throws a small rod with copper wire wrapped around it at the Cyberman. It sticks to the metal and the Cyberman jerks, then sparks and collapses.
“What the hell was that thing?” You ask.
“Electromagnetic bomb. Takes out computers, I figured it might stop the cyber-suit.”
“You figured right. Now, let’s have a look. Know your enemy. A logo on the front. Lumic’s turned them into a brand. Heart of steel, but look.” The Doctor replies as he removes the logo boss on the chest. Inside is not just electronics.
“Is that flesh?!” You ask, your voice an octave higher than normal.
“Hmmm. Central nervous system. Artificially grown then threaded throughout the suit so it responds like a living thing. Well, it is a living thing. Oh, but look. Emotional inhibitor. Stops them feeling anything.”
“Why?” Angela asks.
“It’s still got a human brain. Imagine its reaction if it could see itself, realize itself inside this thing. They’d go insane.”
“So they cut out the one thing that makes them human.”
“Because they have to.”
“I’m going to be sick.” You declare. Seems like nobody hears you because the Cyberman starts to speak.
“Why am I cold?” You almost start to cry- there is still a human somewhere in that Cyberman suit.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” The Doctor mutters.
“Why so cold?”
“Can you remember your name?”
“Sally. Sally Phelan.”
“You were a woman…” You say in a soft yet broken voice.
“Where’s Gareth?” The Cyberman, well Sally asks.
“Who’s Gareth?” The Doctor asks.
“He can’t see me. It’s unlucky the night before.” You’re heart literally shatters. This woman was going to be married before she the Cybermen ‘upgraded’ her. “I’m cold. I’m so cold.”
“It’s all right. You sleep now, Sally. Just go to sleep.” The Doctor says, as he puts the sonic screwdriver inside the chest cavity and switches her off. “Sally Phelan didn’t die for nothing because that’s the key. The emotional inhibitor. If we could find the code behind it, the cancellation code, then feed it throughout the system into every Cyberman’s head, they’d realize what they are.”
When Angela stands up, a Cyberman grabs her shoulders and electrocutes her. “Sensors detect a binary vascular system. You are an unknown upgrade. You will be taken for analysis.” The Cyberman says to the both of you. You share a look with the Doctor, you’re glad that you’re not dead (yet) but you’re also confused about why you’re not dead. You should’ve read as a human on the Cyberman’s sensors.
“We’ve been captured, but don’t worry, Rose and Pete are still out there. They can rescue us.” The Doctor tells you as the two of you are lead to a control room. Unfortunately Rose and Pete are already there. “Oh well, never mind. You okay?”
“Yeah. But they got Jackie.” Rose answers.
“Where’s Mickey then?” You ask. Rose shrugs. Pete says that his boss upgraded her. The Doctor then asks where is the man in charge of all of this. He comes out as a Cyberman in an upgraded wheelchair.
The Doctor talks for awhile before saying: “Oh, Lumic, you’re a clever man. I’d call you a genius, except I’m in the room. But everything you’ve invented, you did to fight your sickness. And that’s brilliant. That is so human. But once you get rid of sickness and mortality, then what’s there to strive for, eh? The Cybermen won’t advance. You’ll just stop. You’ll stay like this forever. A metal Earth with metal men and metal thoughts, lacking the one thing that makes this planet so alive. People. Ordinary, stupid, brilliant people.”
“You are proud of your emotions.” The Cyberman in the wheelchair points out.
“Oh, yes.”
“Then tell me, Doctor. Have you known grief, and rage, and pain?”
“Yes. Yes, I have.”
“And they hurt?”
“Oh, yes.”
“I could set you free. Would you not want that? A life without pain?”
“You might as well kill me.”
“Then I take that option.”
“Doctor?” You ask. The time lord throws you a look, shutting you up.
“It’s not yours to take. You’re a Cyber Controller. You don’t control me or anything with blood in its heart.” The Doctor says to the Cyberman.
“You have no means of stopping me. I have an army. A species of my own.” The Cyberman explains.
“You just don’t get it, do you? An army’s nothing. Because those ordinary people, they’re the key. The most ordinary person could change the world.” You manage a scared smile. “Some ordinary man or woman, some idiot. All it takes is for him to find, say- the right numbers. The right codes. For example, the code behind the emotional inhibitor. The code right in front of him.”
“What’s he doing?” You whisper to Rose. Your best friend shrugs in response.
“Even an idiot knows how to use computers these days.” The Doctor states, you then realize he’s referring to Mickey. “Knows how to get past firewalls and passwords. Knows how to find something encrypted in the Lumic Family Database, under er… what was it, Pete? Binary what?”
“Binary Nine.” Pete replies.
“An idiot could find that code. Cancellation code and he’d keep on typing. Keep on fighting. Anything to save his friends.”
“Your words are irrelevant.” The head Cyberman says. The Doctor shrugs.
“Yeah, talk too much, that’s my problem. Lucky I got you that cheap tariff, Rose, for all our long chats.”
“You will be deleted.”
“Yes. Delete, control, hash. All those lovely buttons. Then, of course, my particular favorite, send. And let’s not forget how you seduced all those ordinary people in the first place.” Rose’s phone goes off, she pulls it out of her pocket and looks at it. “By making every bit of technology compatible with everything else.”
“It’s for you.” Rose says handing the Doctor her phone.
“Like this.” The Doctor puts the phone into a docking station, which it miraculously fits. The code is transmitted and the Cybermen cry out in pain. The code appears on every computer screen. Cybermen everywhere look like they are in pain. The Doctor gave the converted Cybermen back their humanity.
🐝 🐝 🐝 🐝 🐝
“I have never been more happy to see that big blue box.” You say. Your moment of happiness is gone when you hear Mickey say that he would like to stay behind in this parallel world to look after his gran. The Doctor hands Mickey, Rose’s phone so he can continue destroying the Cybermen in this world.
“I guess if we ever get stuck here again we have some allies on our side.” You say with a watery smile. “Guess we’ll see you around Mick.”
“Look after those siblings of yours Y/N.” Mickey replies pulling you into a brief hug. With that, you walk into the TARDIS.
The TARDIS lands in the Tyler’s flat and Rose pulls her mother into a hug, relieved that she’s okay.
“Where’s Mickey?” Jackie asks.
“He went home.” You answer. “Thinking of home, I should get back to my family.”
“Need a lift?” The Doctor asks.
“Yeah. That would be great.”
______
@haletotheking22
@the-third-winchester-warrior
@flannels-and-rocksalt
@always-keep-writing-spn
@winchesters-favorite-girl
@caroldanversinatardis
@spnnolifegirl
@thewinsisterchronicles
@simply-wins-little-sis
@moose-and-sqruille-lover
@platonic-plots
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starrybethany · 5 years ago
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Dylan Strome: Part 8
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Word count: 2193
The to-go coffee cup shakes in my hand as I walk down the sidewalk to my destination. Truthfully, I have so much anxiety about what I’m about to do and it takes everything in me to not turn around and sprint back to my apartment.
I open the heavy glass door, smiling when I see Sara sitting behind the receptionist desk.
“Look at you, a working woman,” I praise her.
She smiles at me, twiddling her pen. “Well I have to have something to do when I’m not in school. Plus, it brings a great reward.”
“He pays you?”
“Not with money,” she winks. I gag and she laughs. “What are you doing here, Y/N? You didn’t just come to show off your cute bump, did you?”
“I didn’t,” I admit, “I actually have an appointment with Jason.”
Her eyes widen in surprise. “Oh. Why do you need a lawyer?”
“I just want to discuss it with Jason first and then I’ll tell you girls later, okay?” I plead, staring into her eyes.
I guess she can see the desperation to keep my secret because she sighs but nods. “He’s actually just doing some paperwork right now, you can head on back into his office.”
I nod, thanking her and making my way towards the small room.
“Oh, and Y/N.” I stop and turn towards her. “You can always talk to me, you know that, right?”
I nod silently, sending her a gracious smile.
“Y/N, you’re two minutes late,” Jason says as I enter his office.
I close the door behind me and take a seat in the armchair across from him. He sets down his pen as we give each other our undivided attention.
“I didn’t know if you would come,” he confesses.
“Me neither.”
“So what brings you into my office? I have a feeling I know what it is but I don’t want to jump to conclusions.” His eyes flicker to my growing bump and I rub it soothingly.
“So I’m seven and a half months pregnant,” I start, “And that means I have one month and a half left until my daughter arrives. And as blessed as I feel to have her and as secure as I know she’ll be in my presence I don’t know if- if- if she’ll be the same in Dylan’s.”
His eyebrows rise as he sees the direction of this conversation.
“It’s just, he’s made so many questionable decisions since the beginning. He ignored me when I tried to communicate with him for the first three months, knew for a month and did nothing about it, and then took a month to decide he wanted to be a part of her life.
“All of the other decisions he’s made, like getting upset when the girls throw me a baby shower because he wanted to and then he never did, and sulking the whole time at the baby shower just shows me how selfish he is and how he’s not ready to become a father,” I rant, “And I’m completely over it, trust me, but he cheated on me while I was halfway through my pregnancy. Just take me out of it, think of some man cheating on his pregnant girlfriend in a nightclub. Not the best person fit to be a father, huh?”
Jason thinks thoughtfully before speaking, “Y/N, Sara’s been telling me everything that’s happening throughout your pregnancy and from the way she describes you crying almost every night from stress of this situation, I’m glad you’ve finally come to your senses. It’s not a good situation for you or your baby to be in.”
“This is why,” I take a deep breath, “This is why I want to sue for full custody of the baby.”
His jaw practically drops in shock. I know, I completely pushed the idea out of my mind when I first thought of it. But then I slowly started thinking about it and now I realize it’s what I want the most. I want to be able to be with my child everyday, and I don’t want to have to worry about if Dylan gave her a bottle when she’s with him.
“I did some research last night,” I quickly add, “And a lot of the things that the courts consider I have the upper hand on. Except the living and money situation, of course, but what matters the most is which parent looks at the best interest for the child.”
“It’s very hard to get full custody,” Jason warns me, “If we do this, we have to be in a hundred and ten percent.”
“I want to do this,” I nod, “I feel bad doing this to Dylan but it’s for my child.”
“Are you sure that you don’t want to sue for sole physical custody and joint legal custody?”
“What does that mean?”
“That just means that the baby lives with you and under your supervision but both you and Dylan make decisions regarding education, medical care, and her development together,” he explains.
“I’ve been making decisions by myself so far and it’s going pretty well, so no,” I decline. “I want my daughter to live with me where I can make decisions for her without consulting another person.”
“Okay,” Jason nods, tying some things onto his computer and soon the printer next to him is running.
He grabs the stack of papers off of it and sets it in front of me, pointing at some words on the page. “So these are the things that a judge looks at in a custody case. The points that we’ll argue our side with the most will be the child’s age, assuming you’ll be breastfeeding that’s a big thing to consider, your experience with children because of your occupation, and stability. So far Dylan hasn’t shown you any stability and with his occupation, it’s bound to stay that way. My prediction is that his side will argue against your living situation and your financial situation.”
“Should I fix those things?” I ask worriedly.
“I don’t think you can fix those things,” Jason admits. “We’ll just have to point out that the baby will get her own room and that you’re saving your money to help with the finances she brings along. It’s not completely reassuring to a jury, but let’s hope it does the trick.”
“Let’s hope,” I repeat.
He prints off another stack of papers and holds onto them, staring at me with a concerned expression. “Would you be able to hand the papers to Dylan or would you prefer that I track down his lawyer and tell him myself?”
“I can do it. I need to talk to him about this, anyway,” I sigh.
Jason hands me the papers and I stand up, my hand on the door handle about to leave the office.
“Oh, and Y/N,” he calls after me, “Don’t worry about paying me for this. You need to save money for that little one and Sara would kill me if she found out that I charged you.”
“Thank you for everything, Jason,” I say, leaving the office.
Sara looks up at me curiously as I walk around to the front of the desk, dropping the stack of papers in front of her. She furrows her eyebrows but then starts to read a couple of lines, gasping in shock when she realizes what it is.
“You’re suing for full custody?”
I nod and she squeals, standing up to pull me into a hug.
“You know, I’m so sorry that you have to go through this but I’m glad you’re doing it. You and your baby deserve more than what he’s giving you,” she confesses.
I just nod again, not trusting my voice to speak.
Her expression fades. “When was the last time you talked to him, anyways?”
“A month ago,” I answer, “At the baby shower. We haven’t spoken since.”
“He hasn’t invited you to that baby shower that he’s going to throw?” She teases.
“That would require telling people that he’s having a child, so no.”
“He still hasn’t told people?”
“Not that I know of,” I shake my head. “I’m going to go home and rest. I bought a ticket for his game tonight and I’m planning on giving him the papers there.”
“If they lose you’re just going to make his night worse,” she tells me as I head towards the door.
“And if they win I’m going to make his night worse. It’s a lose-lose situation either way, Sara.”
~
My seat is in the top row on a curve in the building. It was the cheapest ticket I could find so last minute, and it was still very expensive. I try my best to enjoy the game because I’ve started to watch hockey since I’ve met Dylan and realized that I genuinely like the game, but it’s hard when I feel the stack of papers burning a hole through my bag.
The security guy was really confused when he had to check my bag and found custody papers.
I cheer with everybody else as Andrew Shaw checks Brad Marchand into the boards and Marchand goes to retaliate, causing everything on the ice to turn into chaos.
My eyes follow Dylan as he skates up to some unknown Bruins player, pushing him back gently to get them both out of the fight. Weird, he doesn’t want to fight on the ice but he does everything to encourage it off the ice.
The chaos dwindles and the game comes to a close, the Hawks winning 3-0. Not today Tuukka. I wait for the arena to empty a little bit and for the people around me to leave before pulling out my phone.
The ringing sound plays in my ear and then finally he picks up. “Hello?”
“Hey, Dylan. I actually made it to the game tonight and there’s something that I need to talk to you about,” I say. I hope he can’t sense the nervousness in my tone.
He’s quiet for a little bit before speaking again. “And it can’t wait?”
“Well I’m already here. I dropped hundreds of dollars on a ticket for this so it kind of needs to be right now.” Now I’m hoping he can sense the annoyance in my tone.
“Okay, uh, go down to the home bench and I’ll come out to get you,” he tells me.
“Okay.” I hang up and walk down all of those stairs to the home bench. By the time I get to the bottom I’m panting and my side is cramping.
“What, did you run a marathon?” A familiar voice teases. I look up to see Dylan smirking at me jokingly.
“I went from the top row to the bottom row while heavily pregnant, don’t tease me, Strome,” I answer.
As I catch my breath Dylan leads me to a back hallway where some players and Blackhawks personnel walk through. They eye me and my bump curiously as we pause in the middle of the hallway, stepping to the side so we’re not in anybody’s way.
“Big W tonight,” Dylan exclaims, high-fiving one of his teammates as they walk past.
“How does it feel?” I question.
He shrugs. “Good, it always feels good to win. And especially against the Bruins.”
“I’m sure,” I agree.
“You look gorgeous tonight,” his hands glimpse my waist and he takes a step closer to me. “Did I inspire you to come to the game?”
“Something like that,” I take an uncomfortable step back and his flirty aura drops. “I actually have something to give you.”
As I start to open my purse he jokes, “Nudes?”
I look up at him deadpan and he stops. “Not nudes.”
I pull out the papers and hold them out to him. He takes it curiously and his face darkens as he starts to read the top page.
“Are you serious?”
“Yes.”
“Why the hell would you sue me for full custody?” He yells. People around us stop to stare. I ignore them.
“You’re not ready to become a father, Dylan, admit it. Put your ego to the side and think about what the best thing would be for your daughter.”
“And you’re not ready to become a mother, you still live with your best friend and you rely on your friends to do everything for you,” his voice gets louder.
“That’s what you think, Dylan, and we can talk about it in court if you won’t just sign the papers-””Of course I won’t sign the fucking papers, why would I voluntarily give away the rights to my daughter?” He roars, stepping closer to me.
I stare at him with a bored expression but apparently the people around us are getting worried because Alex steps between us, pushing Dylan back slightly.
“You need to take deep breaths, Dylan,” he orders quietly. The brunette doesn’t listen, still trying to bury me six feet under with his eyes.
“My lawyer will be in contact,” I announce, turning to walk down the hallway and leave.
“And my lawyer will slaughter your lawyer in the courtroom!” 
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404pennamenotfound · 5 years ago
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Photogenic, Part 1
Arriving on set for your next shoot was no problem. Neither was doing a morning coffee run or filling in as stylist when yours ended up giving birth three weeks early and receiving the call last night. The last minute model swap wasn’t either. What was a problem was your hairstylist, Jon, calling to say he was stuck in New York and couldn’t find a flight out in time to make the shoot. Your boss, Diana - who was her usual chipper, high energy, eccentric self today- took it all in stride, although your eyes about popped out of their sockets at her brilliant suggestion,
“You want me to do his hair?!” Your shock was clear. On top of everything else she wants you to handle this?! Clothing you could manage; Liz had everything prepped and ready to go, until her contractions started intensifying. But hair? You could only manage yours on a good day. Diana simply shrugged it off.
“Well, you’ve already got wardrobe under control, the set’s a simple scene and you know what product does what. I think doing some guys hair would be a simple feat for you.” Diana answers, fidgeting with her camera. “Just use that blue bottle we used on that Men’s Health issue last week. You know, with that gorgeous guy from Wisconsin, what was his name again? Darian? Dustin? No, Dusty! That’s the one!” She continued to ramble as you glanced at your watch.
The rose gold band gleamed in the studio light as you read the time, 7:39 am. Your model was due to arrive no later than 8. Surely you could handle a little product and teasing some guys hair, right?
“Excuse me, are you Y/N?” The rumble of a deep voice startles you out of your thoughts. With a slight jump in surprise, your left hand flies up to your chest, trying to stop your startled heart from jumping out in a panic.
“Son of a nutcracker, you scared me!” You admit as you turn in your heels to find a tall, gorgeous man with bright green eyes staring back at you. “Yes, that would be me.” You voice as you rake your eyes over his frame. No matter what you come back to his eyes. ‘So brilliant’, you think to yourself. He smiles. ‘Damn, even his smile is gorgeous.’
“Great, I’m Charlie, your model.” He lifts his hand and you follow, taking his with your free hand not still pressed against your heart to shake his. Strong, warm and lightly calloused, not too rough. A professional handshake, you smile back at him and meet his eyes.
“Pleasure to meet you, Charlie. I’ve set up a personal space for you until we’re ready to begin prepping for the shoot.” You turn and start for a private room just off set before continuing. “Our hair stylist is caught up in a storm at the air port, so I’ll be filling in for him today, as well as doing your wardrobe. We’ve had a lot of surprises today. If there’s anything you need or if you have any questions, please do not hesitate to ask.” You turn back to him as you talk before motioning him inside the open door to his personal space just past wardrobe and hair.
You watch as he sets down a black backpack that was slung across one shoulder. Placing it on the side of the blue sofa, he starts to remove his black leather jacket next. “Thank you. I guess we’ll be seeing a lot of each other today then...” You watch his movements as he continues on, unintentionally tuning out as you focus on his blue shirt as his muscles contract underneath it.
You let your eyes fall to his rear as he tosses his jacket over the arm of the sofa, unzipping his backpack. You never considered yourself a butt lady, but here you are being proven wrong. His black jeans fit perfectly as they lead down to fit snuggly over his athletic legs before stopping at a pair of black and white accented Pumas. You finish admiring him and let your eyes lead you back up his frame to see him holding a box wrapped in yellow paper with ducklings on it. ‘What’s with the box?’ Your eyes flicker up to find his eyes set on yours. Your breath catches. ‘Caught.’
“I’m sorry?” You feel your cheeks redden at the realization he caught you checking him out. ‘How unprofessional of me! Get yourself under control!’ He grins as he looks down at the box.
“For Liz, the stylist? I’ve worked with her before and found out she was supposed to be on set today. I was planning on giving this to her but I guess it’ll have to wait.” He finishes, setting the present on the coffee table. You feel your heart do a tumble in awe of how sweet and thoughtful he is to get Liz a present.
“We were very surprised to find out she had the baby yesterday. I’m sure she’d love it if you stopped by to see her, she’s excited to show off her little boy and keeps begging for everyone to come see her.” You reply.
“Y/N! Diana’s locked herself out of the computer again and Ron’s throwing a fit over it.” You turn back to find Trey running over, his lanyard swinging around him with every step before he comes to a stop just behind you. “And we’re having problems with the studios air conditioning and can’t get ahold of their maintenance team.” He adds.
“I told Diana not to touch Ron’s tech and she doesn’t listen!” You vent, turning back to Charlie. You place a pleasant smile on your face as you excuse yourself. “I’ll be back in a few and we’ll start prepping for the shoot. Feel free to wander the set. We have a snack table and beverages in the next room. The restrooms just down that hall.” You point to your left, excuse yourself and start for Diana with Trey trailing behind you, listening to your swears with a grin on his scruffy face.
With a late start your shoot begins. You’ve managed to gain access to the computer systems, remind Diana why she needs to not touch Ron’s precious baby of a computer, calm Ron, adjust lighting and style Charlie. But to everyone’s disappointment, the maintenance crew has yet to fix the air conditioning.
You look on as Diana and Charlie work in the heat. You check the outcome of photos whilst settling background crew issues. You pulled fans to help keep the space cool in the L.A. heat, but it’s hardly making a difference in today’s conditions.
You watch as Charlie models a jacket without a shirt underneath, a concept you never truely understood. ‘Why bother with just a jacket? No one goes around with a jacket and no shirt?’ You may not understand the point in the advertinsing, but it makes for a hot, much appreciated shot. And you quite enjoy watching Charlie work with the lack of a shirt. You almost fan yourself when he ditches the coat all together and stands in a pair of jeans only. ‘At least if I did fan myself it could be blamed for the weather.’
Diana focuses her camera before freezing. A minute later she pulls away from the camera and turns to you looking displeased.
“What is it?” You ask, uncertain. Your eyes wander in a panic. ‘Did I say one of my thoughts out loud again? Did I forget spare memory cards? Is it the lighting? Surely it isn’t the lighting?’ You think, eyes returning to her face.
“Nails.” She whispers, lifting a hand and wiggling her fingers. “I need nails.”
Your eyebrows draw in as you ponder her line of thinking. “Nails? Diana, I don’t think now’s the best time for a manicure.”
“Not for me!” She yells, pointing back behind her to a half n*de Charlie. “Him!”
“What’s wrong with his nails?” You ask, walking over before grabbing his hands and turning them over in yours, inspecting.
“No, no, no. Not his nails.” Diana calls as she looks around her. “I need to see every woman’s nails!” She calls as she grabs the closest female and evaluates her hands. “Nope.” She moves on to the next. “No.” And the next, “No, no, no.” On and on. You drop Charlie’s hands and head over for Diana.
“I can call for a model if you-“ Before you can finish she cuts you off.
“It’ll take too long. I have pretty ladies here, surely one of them has pretty fingers.” She interrupts, moving down the line as you back up to clear space.
“Diana, this is a fashion shoot, I don’t see why we’re veering off c-“
“I was inspired. I want the shot. I’ll personally pay whoever extra for it. I need it.” She flits from woman to woman, never slowing but to cast a glance at their hands. ‘Okay, I guess we’re changing direction.’
“What if we edit them to-“
“No.” Diana states firmly. “No faking it. I want real. I always do real. Give me your hands, Y/N.”
She yanks on your wrists before you can object. Your freshly manicured nails reflect the light above. Diana stops a moment to wipe sweat from her brow before nodding, patting your hand and straightening her back.
“Those will do. Come, Y/N.” She commands. She returns to her post behind her camera. “Loose the shirt, missy. I need bare arms for this. Pull your hair back too. I can’t have those locks disturbing my shot.” She instructs. You come to a stop beside her as she adjusts the camera.
“I have no modeling experience.” Your excuse causes her to tsk. You try again. “I think we should get Clara to do it. I can have her nails ready-“ she stops you with a pointed look.
“I want your hands on Charlie’s chest, now.” Her firm tone makes you realize this is a battle you cannot win. A glance over your shoulder shows a crew member patting away sweat from Charlie as he watches you and Diana. He’s calm, relaxed. You bite your bottom lip as you admit defeat and mentally prepare yourself to touch him. ‘Dont be nervous, he’s a professional, he’s used to it. It’s not like you’ve never touched a man before.’
“Okay.” You turn and strip off your blouse. ‘Let’s get this over with. No shying away.’ You think as you pull your hair back, slightly glad to be just a touch cooler in your black bra, though a little bit self conscious.
After blotting at Charlie’s sweat and checking over you to see if you need any coverage, you both are free to take your places. Approaching behind him, you slowly settle your palms on his chest and hold your breath as the shoot proceeds.
“Trey, adjust the light over there.” Diana voices. You sense movement around you on the set but keep still. “Get a little closer, y/n. Move your hands lower.” Diana instructs. You move your hands down slowly as you shift your feet slightly forward, just a few inches between your face and his back. You feel your hands hit his abs as Diana calls for you to stop. You gulp. ‘Oh my god.’
“Trey, let’s go a little darker. Y/N, I need you just a bit closer, move your legs a bit, I’m catching some interference, you may need to pin your skirt up so it’s hidden.” Diana calls before a pause. “Hell, maybe just strip down to your skivies.” You can hear the smile in her voice. She’s teasing, though you can hear the contemplation in her tone.
“Oh Lord.” You squeak. Another assistant comes up to you and gently adjusts your skirt before helping you move your legs to completely hide behind Charlie. Your chest is now touching his bare back, you feel a slight breeze from a nearby fan hit the backs of your upper thighs. ‘I’m glad I wore cute underwear today.’
The camera clicks, flashing around you. You begin to feel every movement Charlie makes, no matter how subtle. How he slightly twists to one side, an arm adjustment, his abs clenching to give more contour.
“Perfect. Yes. I love it!” Diana rings out between shots. You feel a smile slowly slip into place at the praise. “You guys good?”
“Yes!” Your pitch higher than normal.
“Fantastic. Y/N’s got a light touch.” Charlie glances back with a grin to you. You meet his eyes.
“Oh, well maybe she should dig in. It’d make a great shot.” Diana suggests. Charlie’s grin widens as he looks back to the camera before him. Your eyes narrow. ‘Son of a...’
Your fingertips slowly fall lower on his abs before sinking into his flesh. He gives a light grunt in response. You bite your lip again out of nerves.
“Oh my god, I’m in love.” Diana says as she snaps away. Sweat droplets trail along your skin as the temperate rises, either from the suns changing position or the lack of space between you and Charlie, you can’t decide.
As soon as Diana called it quits, you snagged your blouse from the chair you tossed it on and make your way for the bathroom. Throwing the door open you lock it shut as soon as you clear the frame. Your fingers pull on tissues from the box as you blot away at the sweat sticking to your skin. Your eyes turn up to your reflection in the mirror.
“What the hell?” You wonder aloud to yourself. ‘He’s just a man! Why are you so out of sorts?! You are an adult woman, pull yourself together!’ You have a hard time grasping onto why you’re so attracted to him. Sure, he’s handsome, but you always look beyond the physical. ‘You hardly know him, slow down.’ You continue to lecture yourself as you make yourself more presentable. Finally you decide it’s perfectly natural for a woman to react that way to a man. ‘A well mannered, professional, gorgeous, hot, sweaty, nearly na*ed man...’ You decide you need a cold shower and turn to unlock the door, close down the set and start for home.
But the frustration returns when you catch the all telling grin gracing Diana’s face. She giggles as she packs her camera away.
“You plotter.” You hiss. She full on laughs as you scan the area for open ears or worse, Charlie. All clear.
“I think he liked it. I know I did.” You scowl at Diana as she latches her case shut. You start breaking down the set as she starts for the door. She stops beside you.
“You know, you’re really photogenic.” She says, slipping you a candid photo of you eyeing a blurred Charlie. Your scowl deepens as Diana cackles. She’s almost out the door when a sudden force of air starts surging through the building. “Oh lovely, the air’s on!”
“Really?!” You yell in frustration.
“Perfect timing, right?” You turn to find the man at the center of your thoughts, Charlie. He’s fully clothed now in his black jeans and blue tee. His backpack is slung over one shoulder and his leather jacket is grasped in one hand. You release a puff of air in defeat as you turn to him.
“It was nice working with you.” He holds out his hand again. You switch on your professionalism and take his hand in yours.
“It was a pleasure to work with you. I hope our paths cross again.” Half lie. It was a pleasure to work with him, if only your brain and body would stay professional at all times. You’re uncertain if you’d like your paths to indeed cross again. Dropping your hand, Charlie nods casually and approaches you slowly, looking on around him as he lowers his lips to beside your ear.
“I think they will.” You eye him curiously. He winks before starting for the exit. You turn to watch as he confidently exits the set, presumably never to be seen again.
“I need an ice bath.” You breathe out.
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lovinitkpop · 5 years ago
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Brown Sugar and Honey
This one is about a new girl group at SM. You could say EXO sister group there may be a love line put in it who really knows. I mean I know but then again I might not know. Heads up I’m sorry for any spelling mistakes or grammar mistakes after rereading it over and over I can’t deal with it.
Oh the reason I came up with this title is because the main OC is black and DO KyungSoo looks damn sexy and handsome when his skin is dark and tan and NOT WHITE WASHED!!!!! STOP THE WHITE WASHING!!!!!!!!
If there is a love line then it will be my first Kyungsoo series. Hope you like it but if you don’t guess what I don’t give two shits leave my blog then. Anyways enjoy bye.
Warnings: Fluffy, Angst, Language, Bullying, Stupid, May not make senses, Brain frat, May not have smut, Trigger, Suicide talk, Racism, Blood, etc.
Pairing: OC x DO Kyungsoo
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Chapter 37
October 26, 2019
Renesmee sighs grabbing her tumblr taking the top off. She slowly brings it to her lips before taking a swig. WinWin opens the door walking into the room.
“So this is where you’re hiding?” He says looking at her and Renesmee looks up. “You’re pushing everyone away again.” He says speaking in Chinese now as he walks over to her.
“No I’m not.” Renesmee says looking at the floor as her hair covers her face. WinWin sits down next to her crossing his legs. “I’ve been busy that’s all.”
“That’s a lie no one has had a schedule since last week.” He replies leaning his back against the wall. “I’m shocked you’re not on the rooftop.” He adds looking at her and she hums.
“It’s raining.”
“Ahh yeah no as much as I love the rain it’s to early to be out there.” Renesmee says before taking another swig of her drink. She holds out the tumblr to him.
WinWin nods taking it taking a swig for himself. “So what have you really been up to?” He asks taking another sip.
“Well my friend from America just moved here so I’ve been hanging out with him.” Renesmee replies pushing her hair back. “Plus he’s a big fan of F(x), and needed to be around some friends.”
Renesmee speaks closing her eyes yawning. “How is he doing?” WinWin asks looking at Renesmee smiling seeing her yawn.
“He’s doing pretty good, no one knows but he was close friends with Sulli unnie.” She replies pulling her knees to her chest.
“What about you, you said once she helped while you were training.” He question looking down at the tumblr.
“She did help me and I miss her but I can’t just be sad about it.” Renesmee speaks resting her head on her knees. “Just have to celebrate her life.”
WinWin smiles looking at her and she smiles back. “You know sometimes you don’t have to be so strong.” He says reaching up pushing her hair behind her ear. “I know you hardly cry but you shouldn’t hold everything in.”
“I can’t cry it show weakness, and I can’t cry in front of others we’ll certain others.” Renesmee speaks gripping her pants.
“Look I know we hardly see each other with me being China with WayV, but I always talk to you on the phone to make sure you’re okay.” WinWin starts as he watches her. “I’m actually suppose to be on a plane with the others back to China now.”
“What!” She says looking up at him.
He smiles reaching up wiping her face. “I wasn’t kidding when I said I wanted us to be close friends.” He speaks putting his arm around her rubbing her back. “And we are, so I knew you were lying when I texted you earlier.”
“It’s okay if you want to cry.”
Renesmee looks at him before leaning her head on him as she starts crying. WinWin pulls her closer wrapping his other arm around her. She wraps her arms around him gripping his shirt.
They sit there for an hour before she stops crying. “You okay now?” He asks grabbing some tissues wiping her face. Renesmee nods sitting up pushing her hair back again. “Good, see I told you I can handle skinship.”
Renesmee giggles hearing him as she wipes her face. “Yes you can handle it, I’ve really grown on you.” She laughs looking at him then down at her lap.
“You have that affect on people to change them.” He says smiling again hearing her laugh.
Jisoo, Roxay and Xiaoling walk in looking around. “Hey sis did you hear about the mysterious YouTuber from SM?” Jisoo asks looking up from her phone. “Ohh hi WinWin.”
WinWin stands up bowing to them picking up his bag. “Hello girls.” He says holding his hand out to Renesmee helping her up. “Here.” He says handing her the tumblr.
“Keep it I have another.”
“Stop speaking Chinese I’m not that good at it.” Jisoo says pouting looking at them. Renesmee rolls her eyes shaking her head. “No seriously look.”
Renesmee and WinWin walk over looking at Jisoo phone. She presses play and they stand there watching the video. “Who is this?” WinWin asks and they shrug shaking their heads.
“No one knows.” Xiaoling says looking at him. “No one recognizes the voice.”
“Interesting maybe it’s a trainee.” Renesmee says picking up her bag. “There’s a few new girls here you should asks them.” She adds looking back at the phone.
“Well whoever she is people are thanking her.” Roxay speaks up yawning covering her mouth. “Got a million subscribers in one day.”
“If this is a trainee they have some powerful vocals and this is an original song.”
Renesmee hums looking as they read the comments. WinWin looks down at her tilting her head. “You should go home and get some sleep.” He says and she looks up at him.
Renesmee smiles nodding before hugging him. “Fine I’m leaving, you should go to I’m sure your manager wasn’t happy about you staying.” She says and he smirks hugging her back.
“Yeah they can get over it.” He replies letting her go. “Bye.” He says smiling and she smiles back.
“Come on girls I’ll drop you off at the dorms, I think I should talk to my mom.”
October 30, 2019
“So how do you feel now about the channel?” Rai asks walking out the kitchen. “I mean one million subscribers in just a day of making the channel.”
“I feel better about it now, no one knows it’s me so I’m good.” Renesmee replies as she sits on the couch eating. “Mmm I forget that you can cook.”
“Why thank you.” Rai says handing her a drink. “So what do you wanna do today?”
“I made more songs?” Renesmee says crossing her legs.
“Heh why’d you say it like that?” He asks watching her and she shrugs.
“I honestly don’t know.” She replies smiling as she sits up.
Once they finish Renesmee helps Rai clean up and they head to the room to film some videos. “We can do my songs first then the covers.” She says as she sets up the sheets and lights.
“You know we didn’t have to put up the plastic, well I mean on the floor yeah.” Rai says helping her and she just laughs. “I wouldn’t mind having the walls painted.”
“They do look really plain don’t they?” Renesmee says smiling as she pulls her hoodie off. “Well when you set off the paint it might still hit the wall.”
Rai smirks shaking his head and she just laughs. “Which dresses did you bring this time?” He asks as she walks over to her bags.
“A lot since we’ll be using paint.” Renesmee looking at her stuff. “They’re out on the rack in the hall.”
“Okay I’ll get the rest set up you go change.” Rai says getting the cameras out.
Renesmee nods walking into the hall looking at her dresses. She grabs the first dress walking to the bathroom. Rai hums playing some music as he covers the cameras up to protect them.
“The best part about not showing my face is I don’t have to worry about the makeup.” Renesmee says walking back in fixing her hair. “Some times I really do get tired of the makeup.”
“But you look better without in the first place.” Rai say looking at her and she rolls her eyes. “You do look better.”
“Let’s get started weirdo.” Renesmee smirks walking over and Rai turns the lights on then checks the settings on the camera.
They spend the next 6 hours making videos. “I swear I’ve never taken so many showers in one day in my life.” Renesmee says wrapping the towel around her head.
“Well my walls did get a little paint.” Rai quips as he carefully wraps the plastic up not to get paint on the floor. “But everything went good.”
“Yeah it did I’m glade it worked out.” Renesmee says grabbing her bottle of water taking a sip. “You can just throw those away, I’ll buy more later.”
“Stop wasting money.” Rai says and she pouts looking at him.
“Then what’s the point of having it?” Renesmee says whining and he just smirks.
“To save for the future duh.” He replies putting the plastic flooring up and she sighs.
Renesmee nods helping putting everything else up. “You should go home and get some rest I can edit the videos.” Rai says taking the camera over to the computer hooking it up.
“Not leaving till my hair dries, don’t want to get sick.” Renesmee says sitting next to him and he nods. “So you’re are stuck with me.”
“You say it like that’s a bad thing.” Rai quips as he loads the videos to the computer. He nods starting to edit them. “Are you going to do an unboxing when they send the button?”
“If I do we have to set up the camera down towards the table and I’ll have to wear long gloves.” She answer yawning covering her mouth.
November 1, 2019
‘New SM YouTuber taking the world by surprise. No one knows who this girl is. If she one of the girls from a group she’s making her voice sound different to stay hidden. If not this new girl trainee is a diamond in the dust.
Her channel was made right after the tragic news of Sulli. Her first few videos honoring not only Sulli but also Jonghyun. These videos sparking something big in many fans and others.
Fans, non fans, parents and more are finally asking and demanding that these companies take better care of the idols. They want them to get the proper help for them. This singer is sparking a revolution that many have tried before.
What makes her different from the others. Maybe she was close to them since she is under SM. Maybe she is going through the same thing. But she is making a different, in one video she speaks about opening an office building for those who want help.
A place where anyone can get help. No matter who they are. She’s tired of seeing and hearing people killing themselves. She says no one would have to pay to come in and get help.
Her videos are so different like her voice. She stays in shadow while sometimes having all these colors exploding around her. There is not one video of her face. She stays true to her name Hidden Angel.
I guess it’s true that angles really do live among us here on earth. Everyone wants to know who this angel is and why is she doing all this.’
~Meeting at SM~
“Okay we called all of you here to get to the bottom of this.”
“Who ever is the Hidden Angel needs to come forward.”
They stand there talking for a bit and the girls sigh sitting there. Sooman folds his arms watching them. “We aren’t sure if you’re in trouble just yet we just need to know who you are.”
All the girls sit there looking at each other then back at the staff. The staff looks around counting everyone. Sooman hums not seeing Renesmee and he nods. One staff member steps forward tilting his head.
“Wait a minute where’s Renesmee?” He says looking at the rest of Royal 1004.
Renesmee runs into the room but trips and falls hitting the floor. She groans laying there for a bit. “Nessie?” Sooman says tilting his head.
“No I’m fine.” Renesmee says jumping up pushing her hair back. “Umm sorry I’m late I was with my mother.”
“You look terrible Nessie.” One of the staff says watching her. “Are you okay?” She asks and Renesmee hums nodding.
“Well when you can’t sleep for days this is what happens.” Renesmee replies sitting next to Jisoo.
“Have you not been drinking your blood?” Joy asks looking back at her and Renesmee looks at her tilting her head.
“Heh no, I need more so yeah.” Renesmee answers and Joy reaches in her bag giving her one of her bottles. “Thank you.”
“Why aren’t you sleeping?” They ask watching her and Renesmee just sits there drinking her blood.
“I’m sorry did she just say blood!”
“Well to answer your question you see I rather live then die.” Renesmee says closing the top. “So I don’t sleep, not that you care.”
“And before you ask I’d rather not overdose on sleep pills.” She adds with a smirk her mouth red as she looks at them.
“Nessie!” Sooman says looking at her and she freezes. Renesmee bites her lip looking away closing her eyes.
“I’m sorry I shouldn’t have said that.” Renesmee apologizes pulling her hood up sitting back in her chair. Jisoo puts her arm around Renesmee.
Renesmee curls up leaning on Jisoo closing her eyes. “You need sleep.” Jisoo whispers and Renesmee nods sitting there.
“Like we said we don’t know if you’re in trouble yet.” They continue with the meeting. “We just need to know who the Hidden Angel is.”
“Why can’t we just leave her alone?” One girl says standing up. “She’s doing something everyone is afraid of doing.”
“I agree!” Another girl yells standing up as well. “She’s speaking up for people who are sacred to.” She adds.
“We agree she speaking up for those who are sacred but we need to know who the Hidden Angel is.”
“No!”
“We don’t need to know.” Hyoyeon says looking at them. “She doesn’t want to be known for a reason.”
Sooman stands  there looking at them as they go on. “It doesn’t matter who it is, if she comes forward she’ll be in trouble.”
“You’ll stop her and all she is doing is helping people!”
“Girls calm down!”
“No!”
“You’re trying to stop someone who just wants to help people, we don’t want to know who she is but we will stand by her no matter what.”
One by one the girls start to go off and leave the room. Renesmee smirks yawning as she stands up watching them leave.
“Never tell a woman to calm down.” She says grabbing her bag. “Ugh I need sleep.” She says walking towards the door.
“Nessie?” Sooman says and she stops looking at him. “What do you think?” He asks folding his arms and she sighs pouting.
“Why are you asking me, I just said I’m sleepy.” She whines stomping her feet. “I can’t think straight right now but I agree with them.”
Renesmee turns reaching out for the door and he smirks. “Nessie?” He calls out again and she whines falling to her knees holding onto the door.
“Sleepy!” Renesmee says looking at them.
“Fine go home sleep but I still want my order by tomorrow.” Sooman says taking a swig from his tumblr. “As a vampire you should know you can’t live without blood.”
Renesmee jumps up looking at him smiling. “That’s probably why I’m sleepy huh.” She says rubbing the back of her neck. “Well I have a lot of orders to fill so I need at least 2 hour sleep.”
“Night Nessie.” He says and she nods leaving. Sooman smiles shaking his head before looking at the others. “Well you all tried maybe she will come to us on her own.”
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almostrealdudes · 6 years ago
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Sunset Drive-In
a/n: hi, here goes the first part of the two-part story about Colin I promised earlier! I know how people feel about original characters, but I ask you to look past it and read the story because I hope it’s totally worth it xoxo Pairing: Colin Ritman x female!OC (Lucy Mayfield) Word count: 1.7k Warnings: none Summary: The second Colin and Lucy meet - they click together. Eventually, Colin makes a decision to set Lucy free and show her the true nature of time.
(gif credit @movie-gifs)
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There are people who stand out from the crowd. They glow in a special way, signifying their presence beforehand. You can always tell you’re seeing one. It is almost like being thrown into a movie scene for a moment. The frame gets narrower, the colors of the surroundings change, as if a filter has been put right in front of your eyes. They are kernels of the timeline. Those people have a soundtrack to them. A song that accompanies them everywhere they go. When you see them, you know you are about to be involved in something significant. Or at least witness it happen.
“Colin, how’s that update going, mate?” Mohan was his usual overactive self as he walked past Colin’s desk, glancing quickly at his screen to check the progress.
“Will be ready by the end of the week,” Colin uttered abruptly, not looking away from his computer, typing rapidly.
“I need it sooner,” Mohan patted the programmer on the shoulder, maybe too hard for the latter’s likeness, and proceeded to his office.
“And I need realistic deadlines,” Colin muttered under his breath, finishing another line of code and reaching into his pocket for a roll-up.
Thakur was not quick enough to reach his office before one of his assistants ran up to him from across the room.
“Mr. Thakur, your two o’clock visit is here.”
“Oh, brilliant!” The man exclaimed, stopping right in front of his door and clapping his hands. Colin’s hands froze as he threw a brief look at his boss. Mohan, noticing the attention, pointed his thumbs up.
Intrigued, Colin raised his brows and turned in his chair to face the entrance to the parlor.
And there it was. Music. Everything slowed down. The sounds of the office went mute. Colin swore he could hear something playing. Maybe it was the headphones. Maybe it was the nature of the divine. Funnel of Love. So laid-back, yet so daring. There she was, one of those people. Standing out. Walking out, to be exact.
“Hey! You are—Daisy, right?” Blue hair. A pink t-shirt that says “Cherry Bomb” on it, in a red, bold, curvy font. Puppylike.
“Lucy,” her voice is soft. Her sky-clear eyes examine the surroundings with curiosity. She reaches into the pocket of her high-waisted jeans to turn her player off. “Lucy Mayfield.”
“Yeah, right, sorry about that,” Mohan retreated, raising his hands apologetically.
Colin had to continue working on the update. But he couldn’t bring himself to it. Her freckle-spangled face was raised up, looking at Mohan as he was talking. She was very short. She turned her cassette player off, but the song was still playing. Was it in Colin’s head? Or was it the vibe Lucy—right, that’s her name—had about her?
“Hey, Colin, c’mon. Lucy has something to show us.”
“Colin as in Colin Ritman?” Lucy asked, astonished. Colin huffed in satisfaction. It was nice sometimes to have a reputation, to make an impression. Keeping his cool, he waved with his hand before getting up from his chair. He wasn’t looking away the entire time, keeping his gaze on her, as she looked back at him in awe.
“Come, my office.”
The “Sunset Drive-In” was a driving game. It was stylishly colored. The entire theme was in different shades of orange and purple. A small-sized car was in the middle of the highway, controlled by a joystick to move in different directions to dodge the rocks and sticks on the road. Soft beat music was playing in the background.
Colin was moving the lever, scrutinizing every single pixel on the screen. It was a beautiful work.
“This is rich,” Mohan said, grinning excitedly.
“The transitions are so smooth,” Colin mumbled, a roll-up in between his lips,” I bet this took some doing.”
“Yeah,” Lucy was sitting at the table, fiddling with her fingers. “I spent so much time on this. Perhaps, way more than I had to. But I really wanted it to look good.”
“Is it an endless game? Like an arcade?” Thakur questioned.
“Well, kind of, but not really. There,” she pointed at the screen as the car reached a cube with a sign that said Sunset Drive-In on it, followed by the Level Complete notification. “The levels are kind of the same randomly generated path, but the car always reaches the Drive-In.”
“Why is the player going to the Drive-In?” Colin asked, putting the joystick away and looking at Lucy. She seemed surprised, she didn’t expect this question to be asked, apart from the technical ones.
“They have a date. Levels change in difficulty, but eventually, the car gets to the finish and the player is reunited with their significant other. I think it’s symbolic, in a sense,” she looked away awkwardly, “like a destined meeting kind of thing.”
“Kind of cliché,” Colin shrugged, fixing his glasses. The girl jerked her head up, glancing back at him with her eyes narrowed.
“Well, it’s not for the common user anyway. It’s just a personal gig, for me,” she crossed her arms, clearly offended by Colin’s observation.
“Wait, so the game is finished?” Thakur asked, distracting Lucy from her little staring contest.
“Uh, yeah, pretty much.”
“Wicked. We can make some add-ups and get it ready by the next month. This is beautiful, Lucy, congratulations. I’ll be expecting no less from you.”
“What—what do you mean?” Lucy blinked rapidly, her fingers slightly digging into the chair.
“What do you think I mean? I’m hiring you. You’re talented, we need people exactly like you.”
She gasped, covering her mouth with her palm. “Oh my god, I—thank you so much, Mr. Thakur! You will not regret this.”
“I’m counting on you, Lucy. Alright,” Mohan clapped his hands before looking at his hand watch, “I gotta go. You, “he pointed at Lucy, “come back tomorrow, we’ll get you a desk and everything. And you, “he pointed again, at Colin this time, “get on with the update.”
Colin rolled his eyes, slowly moving away from the table. His gaze lingered on Lucy again, who was hurriedly stuffing her game back into her bag.
“Good job. Thakur is not the easiest to impress.”
“Easier than you, I figure,” she stood up from her chair, still looking slightly irritated. “You know, you are disappointingly close to an image of a typical famous wanker.”
Colin smirked.
“Hey. Your game is good. I just choose to be honest when I give an opinion.”
“Or you’re simply justifying your rudeness,” Lucy teased, shortly shrugging her shoulders after. “Whatever. I’m not a sissy. I can take criticism.”
“Can you?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” she smiled, shaking her head in disbelief.
“You’ve got anywhere to be later?” Colin suddenly changed the subject, shoving his hands into pockets.
“I don’t know. Why?” She looked at him skeptically, quirking a brow.
“I could ask you out.”
“And why do you think I would be interested in that?”
“Because you still haven’t said no.”
Lucy pressed her lips together, being at a loss for words. Colin victoriously took a puff from his cigarette and walked up to the door.
“C’mon, let’s go.”
“Thought you had an update you needed to finish.”
“I’m not leaving. Just going out for lunch.”
“Just?”
“Come.”
When two kernels meet, they merge. Their radiance intensifies. There is no way for them to disconnect afterward because one meeting is enough to destine them to share their lives. Whatever was planned for those people before is overwritten.
Colin and Lucy clicked. Both working at the same place and having an overwhelming interest in one another brought them closer and closer, stronger than any magnet. They did everything from secretly making out in storage closets to hitting it at Colin’s place. They competed, sitting down at the screen and waiting for both of their games to be rated, keeping score. Colin was usually in the lead.
“It’s because you pay too much attention to the design,” he told Lucy, watching her clench her fists in anger.
“It’s because you wankers don’t care for a game’s style as long as it’s at least merely entertaining!”
Colin took his time in enjoying his little moment of victory, but he always ended up cheering Lucy up. They were coming over to Colins’s place, smoking and letting the world be without them, as they existed in this small bubble, only for the two of them. Their lips were always close, either in a kiss or in millimeters away from one. They touched, caressed, hugged, held, and stroked. Time felt funny every time they were together.
When the night breeze was pleasant, they sat outside on the balcony, smoking and watching the stars. Lucy liked sitting on the edge as Colin stood in between her legs.
“What’s my anarchist thinking about?” she cooed, running her fingers through his spiky bleached hair.
“I want to show you something,” Colin’s were firmly placed on Lucy’s hips.
“Oh? And what would that be?”
“It concerns a discussion we had before. About time.”
Lucy raised her eyebrows in interest.
“The ‘time is a construct’ one?” She leaned back, supporting her weight with her hand behind her.
“Exactly. I will show you something that will set you free. But you have to promise not to freak out.” He took a puff of his joint and handed it to her. She chuckled, accepting the rollup and bringing it to her lips.
“Usually, when you ask me not to freak out, I end up doing the opposite.”
“Yes. That’s why I need you to promise me not to.”
She let a cloud a smoke out of her lungs, examining Colin’s face while he patiently waited for an answer.
“Okay,” she finally said, “sure.”
“Promise.”
“For fuck’s sake,” she whispered mildly irritated, “yes, yes, I promise.”
“Do you trust me?”
“Jesus, Colin, what are you going to do, kill somebody?”
“Say it,” Colin insisted, looking her directly in the eyes. Lucy rolled her eyes.
“Yes, Colin, I trust you. Get on with it already.”
He smirked, taking the joint back. He then took a step back, and his hands slowly traveled down Lucy’s hips to her knees. She watched him, waiting for whatever was to come next. Colin’s fingers squeezed her harder.
“I’ll see you around.”
Before Lucy could ask anything, Colin yanked her legs into the air and threw her over the balcony.
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auntarctica · 6 years ago
Note
Can I ask what your writing process looks like? How do you find a story idea and nurture it into what you post eventually? Do you have any tips or tricks or recommendations?
Hey! Sorry it took me a moment to reply, but I had a weird and disjointed week full of asinine obligations and I didn’t want to phone in a response - I wanted to give this the attention it deserved.
This was such a rad question, because it actually caused me to sit back, have a French 75 and analyze the shape of what I tend to think of as an innate, inborn, organic process. Which is what invariably happens when a collection of personal discoveries become habitual over time - they’re so engrained and automatic, you begin to think they were always there.
But the truth is that, through a constant process of repetition and experimentation, every writer ultimately comes up with a set of practices that work for them.
With that in mind, and since you kindly asked, here are mine. My philosophy on writing comes down to these two guiding, driving principles:
I write what I would like to read.
I write to create what should exist, but doesn’t.
For fan-writing, I would also add, “I write to augment and unearth.”
There is an archaeological component to all writing, but never more so than in fanfiction, where you’re ultimately digging into existing narratives to find tantalizing clues and veins of possibility, in order to expand, enhance, reimagine and/or subvert those mother narratives. There may be an entire underground tomb full of gold waiting to be discovered beneath one sentence or throwaway part of a scene, but it will never be realized until someone excavates that avenue. Michaelangelo famously claimed that he did not sculpt—merely revealed what was already present in a block of marble.
If you have passionate feelings about anything in an artistic property, then you have ideas. You cannot help but have them.
And ultimately, this is where ideas come from: an exchange between two characters that suggests a history, and prompts you to wonder what transpired between them before, or inspires you to reference that moment in a story set in their future. A curiosity about the unspoken moments, those missing interludes and gaps in canon that are left unresolved, and are so ripe for fleshing out.
Or perhaps you like the general cut of a character’s jib, as presented, but find them under-developed, and want to give them more weight and presence and purpose. Or maybe you just think it just be would be hot if a couple of them hooked up. Or you want to fix something that bothers you, that you feel failed in the original work. Reconcile bitter enemies into passionate lovers. Redeem a villain and give him dimension. Re-mint a reputation, or tarnish a hero. Or anything, really. Anything that strikes you.
Once it strikes you, of course, the question is execution.
In my experience, there are two types of writers:
The first are like painters, who splash a lot of words down fast, dash off a full draft and then revise their overall vision in subsequent passes.
The second are more like sculptors. They edit as they go, carve sentences with care, craft the shape of the overall narrative, and search for the right word the first time.
Both are equally valid approaches, and I’m sure many people are a hybrid. Both have virtues, and drawbacks. The danger for the first one, of course, is if they never rewrite or revise. The danger for the second is that they get the dreaded “perfectionist paralysis”, and never finish.
I tend to be the second type. But regardless of what your natural approach and inclination is, I think certain things can be useful.
Once you have an idea about who and what you want to write about, your mind will start to work on those thoughts. It will begin with a sort of jumbled white noise that feels hopelessly inchoate. Be patient: things will start to emerge from the static. Scenes will start to coalesce, snippets and lines and exchanges of dialogue.
And when they come to you, it does not matter what point these need to occur in the narrative: write them. Strike while they’re hot and set them down. Even if it’s just a note to yourself about your eventual intentions, even if you fully intend to tweak them later, because you’re not sure about the context. Keep these snippets in a loose affiliation at the bottom of your doc, or in a separate snippets doc. (If you happen to use Scrivener, you can actually view any doc side by side with your main doc, which is incredibly helpful when harvesting those gems for inclusion).
The reason is this: if you write the scenes and sections and snippets you are fairly sure about wanting (even in a rudimentary form, or as a note), you automatically set up tentpoles, and a scaffold—a skeleton of thematic waypoints that your mind will use to fill in the lacunae and build a narrative arc. Your subconscious will work on this, even while you’re doing other things, and will be re-primed to work on them again every time you read them over.
Even if you’re hopelessly stuck, or have an unproductive day and don’t get any writing done, read over what you have before you shelve it for the day. Your mind will make connections, remove obstacles, and explore options, allowing you to sit down and compose words the next day.
Which leads me to this: most of the real work of writing happens off-page, and away from your computer. Once you set a piece in progress, your mind is always engaged and actively working on completing it. Writing anything – a story, a novel, a script, what-have-you—is like being in labor for days, or even years. Even when you’re not actively pushing, it’s happening. It’s a state you come to tolerate.
Pursuant to this, another tip: if words aren’t coming or you reach a difficult patch of prose or aren’t sure how to handle something, get up and do something mindlessly kinetic. Wash dishes, sweep, exercise, take a shower, cook some food. Engaging one part of your mind in something banal seems to free up the subconscious. It’s often shocking how quickly the answer will come to you, like a bolt from the blue.
In my experience, narratives want to be realized. Themes want to reveal themselves, and repeat meaningfully. What starts out nebulous and daunting will slowly winnow down and lick into shape. There’s a magnetism to words and ideas. It’s often a process of moving the pieces around until you feel a pull in some direction.I will sometimes begin a piece from the beginning, if I am struck with an undeniable opening sentence, but more often than not, I find myself writing out of order. This may not work for everyone, but by having these buoys and checkpoints in place, I feel like it gives a more comprehensive view of the overall shape of the developing narrative.
Full disclosure: I’m not sure if any of this is too rudimentary, or if I even addressed what you wanted to know, but if you have more specific questions, I’ll happily try to answer those too!
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loveloveloveeeeeee · 4 years ago
Text
my struggles with studying
I don’t expect a lot of people to read this, and I’ll probably end up embarrassed to have typed this all up and posted it by tomorrow, but I think it’s important for me to get this out and away from myself.
I appreciate anyone who reads this, and welcome completely anyone who is/has been in a similar situation to me and wants to talk about it or has some tips. I don’t have a lot of people to talk to about it, I definitely feel like anyone I’m close to will not be a lot of help, and I don’t want to be a mental burden, with them knowing my problem, wanting to help, but not knowing what to do, and blah blah blah... Just know, anyone is completely welcome to reach out to me. I know a lot of people say that online, but I’m just a little cancer moon, cancer rising ;). I’ve got ears and struggles too. Sometimes things are difficult. :)) <3
School has always been my demise. I was basically a corpse just going class to class, making little contribution and writing down what the powerpoint said. I would zone out - not realising at all, come back to myself and suddenly the whole class was doing work, and I would have to swallow my pride, interrupt the person next to me and ask what we were supposed to do.
But my nights were wasted too. I guess I was never really taught to study, and everything I had tried for myself never seemed to work. But I didn’t try often. I remember coming home and turning on my computer to watch the next episodes of my show of the week, my mind in a dull and empty buzz, and next thing I knew it was midnight.
Growing up there was no schedule or routine. No one was really checking I had done my homework, no one checking I was showered or that I had brushed hair. There were no rules either. No specific screen time, no food rules, no bedtime. I know why, my mum was a very hard worker, having a daughter, a job, and university, and I am so grateful for her. She was busy. But it just meant I never knew much discipline. There was no structure, but I wasn’t forgotten. There was no food in the house, but there was money, and I - having no sense of diet - would spend more than was good for me on junk; a six pack of crisps a day, frozen pizza... and today that has never ended, it’s something of an addiction now. The lack of restraint and discipline is apparent everywhere in my life.
In school is where it is at it’s absolute worst. It’s not even an issue of my intelligence. The absolute last thing I want to come across as is conceited, but I did better than I deserved my first two years of high school exams having never studied for them, except maybe a bit of rereading and desperate attempts to memorise the night before. I passed everything, bar one, and sometimes with A’s.
But last year was inarguably my worst year ever, and it has bled into this year too. My attendance was below 50%, I came in maybe two or three days a week, sometimes only finally getting the motivation to show up in the afternoon, and even then I would hide away in pupil support classes, still not doing any work. My mum phoning me and screaming down the line as soon as she got the absent text. Me not knowing how to explain that I just couldn’t physically force myself to get up and ready. I started with 5 subjects and finished with 2, both of which I initially failed, but those grades were redacted because people argued the SQA were not grading fairly, basing grades on location instead of merit, and so I scraped by with two C’s. I absolutely would not have passed if not for the pandemic.
This year is hard to tell where I would be in a normal situation. I like to believe it was going to be so much better. The idea of leaving high school and entering college*. It was a fresh start. I was supposed to get my work done the day it was handed out, I was supposed to be more extroverted, and become a leader like I always wanted. But, of course, it’s all online. I think a major benefit of it is I don’t have much excuse not to be in class anymore. I can (and usually do) wake up minutes before the class starts, and do it all from bed, so if I was left to my own devices to get myself there and back, I’d bet my attendance has skyrocketed from what I it would have been. Though, my college is quite far, and I think my mum seeing to that I was on a bus, or even not in the house when she has to leave, would have been enough to ensure I was there too. If it was in person I would have no where to hide too. I wouldn’t get to have my camera off and play games during classes and not take notes, the lecturers would see. I’d have to take notes and I don’t usually do that. I wish I had. But then that just begs the question of would it be a repeat of high school? Would I be a corpse that goes through college classes blankly instead of high school ones? I really don’t know what to think. But today my college work is suffering. I have seven vital pieces of work long overdue, and I think the weight of all of them on my brain stops me from doing even one.
*If you’re not familiar with the system here, college is basically a stage after high school but below university in Scotland, that not everybody goes to. I’m not sure the school systems everywhere in the world but it’s not the equivalent of sixth form college in England, or what’s called college in the US, which would be university here. I’m sorry if this sounds dumb because there’s probably this everywhere in the world but I just want to clarify what stage I’m at exactly. I’m taking a HNC which is kind of the equivalent of first year university.
And so it leads me to believe I have ADD/ADHD. I really am not about to self diagnose. Although it might be enough for some, I often worry I’m a bit of a paranoid person, and that I like to jump to the most “extreme” conclusions, but I don’t think my livelihood makes it totally unlikely.
I find myself devoting my time and what motivation I have to things that just don’t matter. I’ve memorised maps of the US, Europe, Scotland and Ireland. I took up interests in religion and astrology, buying crystals as if they were coming to save me like all the TikToks say. I’ve taught myself bits of piano, British Sign Language, chess, Teeline shorthand and Morse code, just to give up. I even made it to 100 days on Duolingo learning Scottish Gaelic before I stopped that too. Engrossed in wide varities of things that I’d love to be great at, abandoning it because I’ve decided I’m bored.
But the worst waste of my time is always spent on my phone. I am a huge advocate for downtime, not every single second has to be productive. But it’s never good to have a 12 hour daily screen time average.
I can never concentrate either. I can’t force myself to. As I write this I have an essay due I’ve had for a month, and I’m going to have to do it all tomorrow. I don’t understand why I can’t physically force myself to get it done. I always think, “why am I on TikTok when I have an essay due?” And I never really have a reason. Even my driving instructor told me to get tested because, especially nearing the end of the lessons, my attention starts to waver, and I find her having to change gears for me sometimes, and warning me to stop looking at whatever might pass by.
I have a little list of priorities in my mind too. I keep reminding myself that I have this essay and this assignment to do, but I also have ideas of starting a blog or reading a book. The school work is first in the list of priorities, I know it needs to be done first and so I take it to the extreme and can’t seem to do anything meaningful at all until it’s gone. Of course, it never is gone, I never do it, and I find myself scrolling social medias all day, a perfectly anodyne time waster. No substance and no thoughts.
But I’m a perfectionist too, with very little confidence. I can tell part of me puts it off because it needs to be as good as it possibly can be, and another part tells me I’ll start it later, I’ll feel better about it later. I have big ideas, that if only I could force myself to do, would be great, but the idea of it not being good enough only puts me off. I’d not do the work until it’s at the point where the excuse is “it’s only bad because I didn’t give myself enough time to do it,” because of the fear of the possibility “it’s bad because I’m bad at it.”
Part of my inability to really do anything I think also had to do with depression. ADD/ADHD makes my life chaos. My room is a mess, there is no organisation or structure in my day, there is no motivation to fix it, no understanding of how to fix it. I’m a very intuitive person, because I have to be. Any decision I make is unknown to me until it’s happening really. I can’t plan when I’m starting work, sometimes I just have to hope I get the motivation to open my laptop. I think depression feeds off the ADD/ADHD symptoms. My room is messy because I can’t be organised, then my mindset worsens because I have such a terrible, unlivable space with no motivation to do anything about it, and it just stays that way. I can’t concentrate long enough to do work, then my mindset worsens because it means I have work overdue, that will have bad consequences, people disappointed in me, and etc, etc. I’m sorry, I don’t think I’m articulating myself well here. I’m intuitive in decisions but I’m also an overthinker. Or maybe just more of a worrier. I don’t do the work and so, every time my phone pings I jump and check cautiously because I fear it’s my lecturer messaging me that I’m off the course. The depression really took a terrible toll on my life. I won’t get too into it but I can hardly talk to friends, find the motivation to shower, or even go outside. All I find myself doing is lying in bed staring at a screen. I don’t know what else I can really do about it.
And the worst part is, in my mind, I have myself convinced that it’s not even that bad. That it’ll be okay tomorrow, I’ll change tomorrow, as if I’m not long past the point of this just being a little off day.
But one thing I do I know is a symptom of ADD/ADHD, which consumes my whole mind, is my hyperfixation. I won’t go too deep but basically for just over a year it’s been an honestly unsubstantial book I read. Loved by many, but nothing special, in comparison. I’ve only read it maybe twice all the way through but it never leaves my mind. I relish in any and all fan works, stalking the ao3 works, refreshing the tumblr tag. I can just stand and jump and pace, while listening to one song on repeat, thinking about the characters in all kinds of scenarios for hours on end. I can imagine the main character as me in everything I do; as I pick up a book from my bookshelf, as I walk my dog, as I lay down at night. I constantly compare myself to him too, feeling bad that I’m not as similar or good. I hate it. I don’t know if I even like the book anymore, I don’t think it’s possible to tell, I’m just obsessed with it.
I don’t know what I’m supposed to do about it really. The NHS don’t diagnose ADHD in adults, and I’m only 18. I’ve been this way my whole life but no one ever paid much attention to it. When I told my mum I think I have depression, she laughed at me, then got really angry, saying I’m not depressed just lazy, before buying me flowers and telling me she was worried I was going to hurt myself. Now I feel like I can’t speak about anything serious like this rationally because she looks for every reason that there is no problem, and if there is it’s the worst possible case, and “oh I’ve been a terrible mum.”
I don’t understand my problem. I have big dreams and goals for my life, I know what I am doing now will never get me anywhere but still that knowledge is not enough to get me to do what I need to. I’ve even written this post over eight days, for all the distractions and lack of motivation I’ve had to finish it. It’s a never ending cycle, but I really hope having this out there now will spark something in me. I’m sure this will make someone feel better about their situation now too, and that’s totally okay! If it can help someone, right? ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
I’m sorry I probably brought up a lot of completely irrelevant stuff, and went into tangents at times, but I just wanted to stress how it all plays into each other. They’re all connected, which brings a lack of motivation and discipline to my life and my work. I just want to let it all go.
Again, I really don’t think many people will read this but anyone is completely welcome to message. If anyone has some tips for people who can just never concentrate, or also anyone who is in social sciencey type courses (psychology, sociology, politics esp) and has some tips for doing that too I’d be so grateful. :) <3
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beatricethecat2 · 7 years ago
Text
out of place/out of mind - 5
(Read first) one step forward, two steps back (v.2.0): part 1+ part 2, (Previously) out of place, out of mind: part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4
To repeat, this is an Instinct replacement-and-forward fix it fic, in six chapters. I'll fix typos later and thanks for reading!
///////////////////////
After their trip, Helena remains Helena for longer stretches of time, but Abigail warns, yet again, she may never fully return to herself.  “The cowboy” resurfaces too often for Myka’s tastes and on occasion, Emily’s anxiety rears its ponytailed head, but Myka learns, over time, how to cope with them all. Only Helena's melancholy remains an obstacle, but she’s convinced it’s proof the true Helena is rising to the top.
To keep herself occupied, Helena assumes Leena’s duties but soon grows weary of cooking and cleaning for the crew. She tries writing and tinkering but finds it her to focus with so many personalities in her head. An ennui sets in that nothing seems to cure so Myka conspires with Abigail and they come up with a new plan.
The women strong-arm Artie into allowing Helena back into the Warehouse, but Artie insists they monitor her every move. She’s let loose to do inventory once Claudia modifies her tracking device and is thrilled to be wandering the aisles again. When her mood improves ten-fold, Myka knows it was the right move.
Helena often holes up in what they've dubbed her “H.G. sanctuary,” a corner far away from the office filled with books, papers, and tea. More than once, Myka’s found her lost deep in the stacks, absorbed in a one-sided conversation with the Warehouse. What little she’s overheard has made no sense, but if talking to a building comforts her, she won’t interfere.
Everything buzzed along fine until the day they were inundated with pings. Helena became point person, and for the first time ever, was left alone in the Warehouse.
“Are you sure you’ll be ok?” Myka asked.
“I’ll be fine. It’s been months! I’ll be your font of information while you’re on the road.”
Helena said it with such cheer that Myka didn’t think twice, but in hindsight, she should have known better.
Several sleepless nights and three static bags later, Myka’s tasked with dropping the artifacts at the Warehouse. Before making the drive over, she checks her room for Helena but finds it exactly as she left it. Helena's room is too clean to have been recently occupied, and the kitchen, too, is spotless. She checks the library last and finds Abigail there, reading and sipping tea.
“Have you seen Helena?”
“No, but I just got back. It’s so clean in here, she must have camped out at the Warehouse. When’s the last time you spoke to her?”
“Before we got on the plane."
She can’t put her finger on it, but something seems off, so she checks in on Pete to see if he has a vibe. Pete's already passed out, face down on his bed, so she sighs and continues without him.
She drives to the Warehouse at a generous clip and finds Helena’s current mode of transportation, Claudia’s El Camino, parked outside. When she reaches the office, she’s relieved at what she sees, for here are the messy signs of life she’s accustomed to. She sets the static bags on the desk, and when she wakes the computer, a live feed from the bronze sector glows back at her.
“Myka?” a voice says from behind.
Myka spins around and gasps at who she sees.
“Leena?”
“That's my name.”
“Are you really here?"
Leena looks down at her hands then touches the desk and smiles in the affirmative.
“How?”
“I don’t know. The last thing I remember was being there, and now I’m here,” Leena says, looking at the screen.
“Have you seen Helena?”
“I haven't. Is she missing?”
“I hope not.” Myka types in a page that tracks Helena’s movements. “This says she’s in this room.” She looks around, and so does Leena.
“Maybe she’s invisible?” Leena says.
“That’s always a possibility. Let me see if I can pinpoint her location.” Myka switches to map mode and enlarges. “This says she’s over there.” She points towards the door to the main floor.
Leena steps over and examines the area then bends down a picks something up. “This is hers, isn't it?” she asks, holding up a necklace.
“Crap,” Myka says, thinking they should have implanted the tracking device under her skin instead of her locket.
“We’ll find her. She’s got to be here somewhere.”
They hurry towards the door, but Myka stops before they cross the threshold. “Sorry to jump right into this, but something weird’s going on. But it’s really, really great to see you.” She tears up a little as she gives Leena a big hug.
They search everywhere they can think of, starting with the bronze sector, then the dark vault. (Myka breathes a sigh of relief that nothing obvious is missing.) They then try H.G.’s sanctuary, the Pete cave, and the H.G Wells aisle, but everything of turns up empty.
They circle back to the Pete cave and collapse onto the sofa.
“She’s here somewhere,” Leena says.
“So you were trapped in the Warehouse all this time?”
“I guess so.”
“Were you talking to Helena in the aisles?”
“Not exactly. It’s hard to explain.”
“Do you have any idea of how you’re back?”
"No." Leena shakes her head in the negative.
“So she was; talking to the actual Warehouse.” Myka looks around the room warily.
Leena lays a hand on Myka’s shoulder. “Even in her darkest hours, the Warehouse was fond of Helena. It helped her build the Time Machine so she could heal.”
“She never told me that.”
“I’m sure she wants everyone to believe she figured it out herself.”
“But it didn’t work. I mean it didn’t bring Christina back.”
“The Warehouse doesn’t have answers. It merely suggests.”
“Cryptic as usual. Great."
"Can you think of anything out of the ordinary she’s gotten herself into lately?"
"Everything and…everything. A lot’s happened since you, um, disappeared."
“What’s the last thing you remember."
“She was watching movies, ‘for research,’ she said. I thought Claudia put her up to it because they weren’t exactly her taste, but...” Myka's eyes light up. “Props!” she yelps, then rises. “We should check the props aisle."
Leena trails behind as Myka navigates the stacks then runs towards a figure sprawled on the floor. “Helena!” she cries as she skids to a stop and kneels near a shock of hair spilling out of a white helmet. She places her ear above Helena's nose, listening closely for breathing.
Leena slips on a pair of gloves and lifts Helena's wrist. “Her pulse is strong,” she says and checks over the rest of her. "I think she’s knocked out.”
Myka stands, visually assessing Helena and recognizes the suit she’s wearing. Its black lines, drawn on like circuits, often glowed in blue in the film.
Leena picks up a shiny disc from the floor. “What’s this?”
“I’m not sure,” Myka says. She glances at the shelf above Helena, and the display confirms her thoughts, it's from the last film Helena was watching.
“We shouldn’t move her until we know. I’ll get a pillow from the Pete cave.”
“I’ll call Claudia.”
----------
“Best guess? She had to go in to get Leena out,” Claudia says from the Farnsworth, looking between Myka and Leena. “I can’t believe you're back. Are you really back?”
“I’m back,” Leena says.
“Just, wow.” Claudia wipes a tear from her eye. “Myka, show me H.G. again.”
Myka turns the Farnsworth around. “Dude, you gotta take pictures. That's pure gold. Blackmail material for years.”
“Claud, this isn't time for games. We have to help her.”
“Yeah, right. So the disc Leena’s holding will get her out, but someone needs to go in and give it to her.”
“In where?”
“Probably the Warehouse computer. Its mojo’s jacked into the Warehouse ethos.”
“Do you think it was trade, that she's where you were?” Myka asks Leena.
“I don’t know where I was. I think the shield kept me from, um, leaving, but I don’t know how.”
“Since you've been back, have you left the Warehouse?” Claudia asks.
“No.”
“Then don’t. Not until we get H.G. back.”
“And how exactly are we getting her back?”
“Start with the database. Maybe she's in there.”
Myka and Leena rush to the computer in Artie’s office. “Ok, what should I type.”
“Start with ‘H.G. Wells’.”
Myka types it in. Thousands of entries pop up. “We have to be more specific.”
“H.G. Wells, Tron?”
Hundreds of entries are listed.
“Did you find her?” Abigail asks as she enters the room.
“Not yet," Myka says, scrolling through data.
“You must be Abigail,” Leena says, flashing her trademark warm grin.
“And you must be Leena. It’s an honor to meet you,” Abigail says, barely blinking an eye, holding out a hand. Leena shakes it; then they turn their attention to Myka.
“What’s the situation?” Abigail asks.
“Helena used an artifact, a suit from the movie Tron, to enter the Warehouse and release me. She needs this disc to get herself out, but it fell out of her hand during the transfer.”
“She could have planned that better,” Myka quips.
"Claudia thinks we can find her in a search.”
“Is this the original movie,  the sequel, or the TV show?”
Everyone looks at Abigail.
“I was a little obsessed when I was a kid. I was Yori once or twice for Halloween.”
“Not expecting that outta you,” Claudia says. "Show her the picture."
Myka brings up a photo of Helena on her phone. Abigail snickers.
“Sorry. It’s just…with her hair fanned out like that, she looks like a futurist sleeping beauty.”
“Myka should kiss her and see what happens,” Claudia says.
“Not helping,” Myka grunts.
“Original movie,” Claudia says. "Definitely, original movie. I have the suit’s info up on my laptop.”
“We need to narrow our search.”
“Add ‘back-lit animation,’” Abigail suggests.
“This ain’t Bugs Bunny,” Claudia says.
“No, but parts of the film were drawn by hand then laid over the live action and re-filmed.”
Myka types it in and clicks on the first entry.
------------
“Oh, hello!” Helena chirps.
“Helena!” Myka leans closer to the screen. “What are you doing in there?”
“I was meant to release someone.” Helena looks to Myka’s right at Leena, and smiles. “I’m guessing that was you. How delightful!”
“Thanks!”
“Are you ok? You're way too perky,” Myka says.
“Is there a penalty for being pleased at one's efforts?”
“No, but you realize you look like a cartoon in there.”
Helena looks down at her suit. “I glow, how lovely.”
Myka looks up at Abigail, perplexed. Abigail shrugs.
“I'll admit, it’s much less crowded in here.” Helena taps her helmeted head.
“'The cowboy?'”
“Gone.”
“And Emily.”
“Loiters, but doesn’t linger.”
“Cowboy?” Leena asks.
“I’ll explain later.”
“Don’t touch anything, or you might be de-rezzed. We don’t know what the atmosphere’s like since you’re in the Warehouse, not the movie,” Abigail warns.
“Derezzed? That sounds rather unpleasant. I shall avoid it at all costs.”
“We need to get you out of there,” Myka says.
“I need the disc. It failed to transfer with me.”
“Can we upload it somewhere for you to access?”
“What’s going on?” Artie grunts from the back of the room.
Everyone turns around. Artie spies Helena on the screen. “What have you done now?” He lumbers towards the computer. “What the hell are you doing in there?”
“The Warehouse compelled me.”
“That’s your excuse?”
“Arthur, look to your right.”
Artie looks. Leena smiles. Artie gasps and falls backward, fainting. Abigail clambers to his side.
“Typical,” Helena says from the screen.
“H.G...” Claudia chides from the Farnsworth.
Vanessa appears, trailing behind, out of breath from chasing Artie.
“What happened?”
“He fainted.”
“Why? Oh!” Vanessa says as she sees Leena.
“H.G.,” Leena says, pointing her eyes towards the computer.
Helena waves.
“Oh,” Vanessa says. “I’ll leave you to...that. Let’s get him into a chair.” Abigail assists.
“Do you see anything, like a door, or a window or a slot?” Myka asks.
“Only an infinite grid. I’m uncertain what might happen if I walk in any direction.”
“Tell her to stay put,” Mrs. Frederic’s voice booms from behind, and everyone turns in her direction.
“Leena and I will attempt to retrieve her manually, but it will take time.”
Mrs. Frederic looks at Leena and smiles the broadest, warmest smile she’s ever given anyone. “Welcome back.”
“Thank you.”
“You do know what I’m talking about.”
“Appeal to the Heart of the Warehouse. Will it work?”
“It might, but we'd be at its mercy.”
"You could be walking in circles for years,” Helena says. "It’s too risky. There must be another way.” Helena waves her hand, and it fuzzes into pixels.
“She’s de-rezzing already,” Myka says.
“A minor glitch. I’m perfectly intact."
“Miss Wells, do not stray from your location. Agent Bering will keep you company while we attempt to find you and hand you the disc.”
“But—“
“This is not up for debate, Miss Wells."
“You can't—”
“I think Myka and I should go,” Leena interrupts.
“Absolutely not!” Helena says.
“I’ll guide her. Something tells me it will be easier when true matters of the heart are involved.”
Mrs. Frederic looks between Leena and Myka, then back at Helena. “Leena is correct,” she says, as Helena flickers on the screen. “We’ll monitor their progress for as long as possible, but they must go, quickly."
-TBC-
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