maitchell-blog

[888-fr]

mass pinglists (& moral superiority for not using them)

There's been concern lately over the newest update announcement that at some point, far into the future or at least after New Year's 2024, mass-pinging as a concept will be retired from Flight Rising. On one hand, there's people worried about this.

There's people who are also, frankly, being wildly vitriolic about those who rely on mass pinglists, disbelieving that anybody could ever be affected by mass ping tools shutting down. They're also out here openly calling skinmakers/G1 collectors/dominance organizers delusional for thinking the things they do are in any way, shape, or form, an important part of the site.

Which like, if people don't use user-run tools like GASP or the G1 pinglist, that's fine! That's your playstyle. But I don't understand where the attitude is coming from that the concerned groups are only a 'loud minority', and that they somehow don't contribute massively to the game as a whole. (The same people, by the way, who call G1 collectors & UMA makers a plague upon dragon society for being an elitist rich boy's club, then turn around and say they're not at all a driving force in the site's economy.) Which one is it? You can't have it both ways. Do these people spend thousands whaling for their perfect XXY G1 wildclaws then hundreds buying gem genes for their fancy showoff dragons? Or are they at best a negligible population in the game, whose activity and monetary contributions to the site are far outweighed by the tens of thousands of 'nice, normal, sane' players who log on once a week to hatch a nest and post on forums once in a blue moon?

There's 825 pages of user-made skins on the site right now. At 50 items per database page, that's 41,250 skins. 41,250 skins that had to be submitted with blueprints that can only be bought with gems.

Let's give these numbers the benefit of the doubt and say each skin was only submitted once, using a 10-print blueprint at 5000 gems, and each accent was only submitted once as well, using a 10-print blueprint at 2500 gems. That's 136,875,000 gems sunk into blueprints - if each individual usermade skin on site has only an average of ten copies on site. (Which is categorically not true, I've had multiple skins print over 300 copies. And I am just one person, and far from the most successful skinmaker on site.)

This is 1,368,750 USD in skin blueprints alone, by the way, using the most barebones and least generous numbers possible. We're not accounting for skins that sell more than one run, or the fact that no skin artist sells their skins to the public at print price (you can add another 30-40% to that number if you want to estimate how much money is actually spent to circulate those skins). Even if none of these artists pay money to buy gems, these gems are coming from somewhere. Even if you, as someone who doesn't care for G1s or never even heard of GASP, never set foot into these places, these gems are still circulating and being sunk into the site. And it helps no one to scoff and say you doubt there's no real impact on anything if all of this goes away.

There's 51k items on the site, and over 80% of them are skins. There's 5k users actively signed up and using GASP - more than the average amount of users logged onto the site at any given point that's not a new breed release or anniversary update.

Are you getting the picture yet? It's not self-absorbed to say that the UMA market has a very real impact on the game economy. It's just numbers.

I need to get my thoughts out about the new mass-ping update somewhere. My thoughts on the actual tool are entirely positive, it's a great change for the site and not one I ever thought I'd see. But there's people worried about the future of tools like the GASP & G1 sales pinglists for very good reason.

I think game economy is a very real concern if you're a dominance participant, a skinmaker, an old dragon collector, a G1 hatcher, an ID hunter, or anyone else whose community relies on mass ping lists. You aren't wrong for feeling this way. I'm sorry people are dismissing very valid concerns about the state of your community out of some misguided 'i don't do this and neither do my friends, so everyone who does must be a loud overexaggerating nitwit' attitude.

[alwaysmarveling]

Call Me Back

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x reader

Warnings: death, a small sexual innuendo, and lots of commas and long sentences

Word Count: 3.4k

Summary: You and Wanda promised each other you would always call to check in, and Wanda’s going to do her best to keep that promise, no matter what.

The first time you met Wanda was… well, when was the first time you met Wanda? Was it when wisps of red flashed in front of your eyes, projecting images so horrific and lifelike that you all but collapsed in a heartbeat? Or was it when she stepped forward to shake your hand timidly, grief and determination filling the witch as she promised to make up for it?

“I- I wouldn’t have done it if I… we were just trying…”

“Don’t worry about it,” you had told her with a smile before confiding in her about your own missteps, how you’d wreaked havoc on all of New York with your powers of body modification after your own parents died, how Fury finally got the Avengers to catch you, and how they quickly became your new family.

-

“You mean they really almost burned the kitchen down trying to make you a birthday cake?” The brunette giggled later that night as you recounted the story of your sixteenth birthday, the two of you sitting comfortably beside each other on the living room sofa.

“Yup. And when Nat showed up with an ice cream cake fifteen minutes later to find smoke in the living room, Sam told me she freaked on everyone.”

“Excuse me, Y/N, I did not do any ‘freaking.’ God, is that what you teenagers are calling it now?” The two of you erupted into laughter, and the redhead could do nothing more than shake her head, a smirk playing on her lips no matter how hard she tried to conceal it.

---

Much like Nat and Steve predicted, the two of you became fast friends. You sat next to each other on movie nights, sang karaoke in your room when you thought everyone else was asleep (if they weren’t awake when you started, they certainly were once you were thirty seconds into Whitney Houston’s “I Wanna Dance With Somebody”), and, much to Steve’s dismay, when you finally became confident with your ability to grow wings on your back, snuck out regularly for late-night flights around the compound.

But you also insisted on being there for Wanda’s training sessions, even if it meant you had to wake up an hour earlier. You cradled the witch in your arms when she woke up night after night with an aching hole in her heart before you eventually insisted you guys just share a room. And you promised her, above everything else, that when you went out for anything, whether it be a quick grocery run or a month-long mission, you’d let her know you were okay.

You knew the promise she pleaded you to make was a result of the anxiety she suffered. She’d lost everyone she cared about; if a simple text or call was enough to put her at ease, you’d do it in a heartbeat.

---

“Wanda,” you’d whispered, the teen immediately sitting up straight when she’d heard the cracks in your voice. “I- I don’t know what to do. I’m safe, but...” She told you to stay there, don’t move, she’d be there in minutes. And, with your brain unable to function enough to think of any other option, you listened.

Her heart broke at the sight of you, your arms wrapped tightly around yourself and your head hung, you feet occasionally kicking the wet sidewalk. The neon sign of the restaurant your date had promised to meet you at illuminated one side of your face, allowing her to see the tears that you had tried but failed so desperately to hold in. But the witch didn’t let you see her emotions, instead whisking you away from the unfamiliar section of the city, brushing the tears off of your cheeks and bringing you to the twenty-four-hour diner for milkshakes. She made a fool of herself in front of the waitstaff until tears flowed from your eyes once again, but this time, the crystalline drops rolled down your raised cheeks, aching from smiling too hard. 

-

When you had a panic attack during training because you couldn’t get one of your body modification attempts to reverse—”Wanda, I cannot be stuck with claws for hands, I can’t!”—she refused to let you hang up until the steady sounds of her own breathing calmed you down, the sharp nails receding and making way for the soft pads of your very human fingertips.

-

And when she called you after the mission in Lagos, you worked tirelessly to complete your own solo mission as soon as you could. You returned to the tower to find her holed up in the bedroom, news broadcasts playing nonstop on the television to remind her of the horrors she’d committed; accident or not, she told you, she needed to hold herself accountable. You simply shook your head at her, holding out your hand without another word. She didn’t take it at first.

“You can’t fix it, Y/N. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have called you.” She was expecting you to fight her back on it, yell at her and demand that she take your hand, or perhaps you’d go the complete opposite direction and leave her alone, let her be swallowed by guilt and anguish, rip open old wounds and form new ones as she thought of how she tore apart families that were probably much like her own. You did neither.

Wanda’s green eyes remained fixed on your outstretched hand. You stayed silent, one eyebrow cocked as if daring her to see what would happen should she choose not to take it. It was only then that she realized, for once in her life, the person she most loved wasn’t leaving; the support she so desperately needed wouldn’t be yanked away from her when it was mere centimeters from her grasp.

So she rested her fingers in the palm of your hand, and you pulled her out to the balcony where the two of you had spent night after night watching the stars instead of sleeping, making up funny names for each of them and rolling in fits of laughter that only came to those delirious and sleep-deprived enough to understand just what was so funny. Except, this time, instead of dropping into the oversized beanbag chair that was the usual spot of your stargazing shenanigans, she watched curiously as you removed your shirt. Her mouth dropped as you closed your eyes and allowed the white feathers to emerge from beside the ridges of your spine. Although it was a process she’d seen several times before, your modifications had never ceased to amaze her, and your angel-like wings had always been her favorite. The witch admired the additions as you allowed them to flap slowly, once, twice, before turning back to her.

“Let’s go,” you finally spoke, the order gentle but leaving no room for negotiation.

“Where are we going?”

“Away.” That was enough for the brunette, who squeezed your hand before following your lead. She allowed you to guide her through the maze of clouds and couldn’t help but smile softly as the sun’s rays hit your face at just the right angle. You wore the exhaustion from your recent mission on your face, and streaks of dirt covered the bruises that she was sure littered your body. But she was content, in awe, because you were you. You didn’t put up walls to hide your scars from the world, didn’t use passive-aggressiveness to hide the passion that burned in your heart. At the end of the day, you were good, purely and truly good. You were an angel; even the sun knew it.

What Wanda didn’t realize, but what you taught her that night, as she sat surrounded by sunflowers, the moon, thousands of gleaming stars, and the tickle of your feathers as your wing pulled her close to you, was that she was one too.

“I’m glad you called me,” you whispered, your eyes not leaving the open sky as you pointed out a particularly bright spot. “I’m gonna call that one… Philip. He looks regal, real proud. Look at him, so much brighter than the others, and he knows it too.” The witch breathed out a soft chuckle, stroking her fingers over your feathers as she responded.

“I’m glad I called you too. And I think Philip is a good name for him. What about that one?”

“Hmm… Walter? He’s a bit more serious, I think. But you see the one next to him?” You waited until you got a nod from the girl before continuing. “That’s his sister. She makes sure he has fun, even when he says he doesn’t want to. But you name her, Wands. Naming stars is a two-person job, you know.” She squeezed the elbow that you nudged her with before giving in.

“Alright… that’s Delia. And, yeah, she’s the best. The life of the party. Walter keeps her grounded, though,” Wanda added, to which you agreed to with a hum. You two fell quiet after that, enjoying the comfortable silence and looking up at the twinkling lights, some of them gaining names and stories, others waiting to be named another night.

“Wanda?”

“Yeah?”

“You call me if you ever need me, okay? I know we started this with me calling you, but I’m here for you too.” The witch met your eyes with a firm bob of her head, but you continued, desperate to make sure she understood. “And if I don’t pick up at first, you call me back, okay? Call me until I respond, promise?”

“I promise,” Wanda soothed gently. “I will.”

“Okay, good, good. Because,” Wanda felt a brush of your feathers against her upper arm as you fluttered your wings, slightly agitated, “because I think I love you. I mean, um, I know. I know I love you. I love you. Yeah, I-” Wanda shut you up with a kiss, her lips pressed urgently against yours. And if you hadn’t lost your breath from your rambling or your declaration of love to the girl of your dreams, then you most definitely lost it as your lips melted into hers, in the comforting warmth of her palm against your cheek, and in the words that left her mouth as you finally pulled apart, breathless.

“I will, Y/N, I promise. Because I love you too.”

---

People thought you were inseparable before you started dating, but they all realized how wrong they were after that night. The two twin beds quickly became a queen-sized mattress, sideline support during training sessions became fierce yet playful spars, and the private giggles you guys shared grew tenfold. Fury wasn’t exactly happy that his unofficial daughter was now dating, but he was pleased by how efficiently the two of you worked together, which led you to this moment, the two of you covering the Quinjet while waiting for the rest of the Avengers to finish their business inside the massive Hydra base. With Wanda covering the ground and you in the sky, flying with the white-feathered wings that Wanda loved so dearly, the two of you held off the swarms of Hydra agents relatively well. With a small break in between incoming agents, Wanda looked up to check on you, but she was a moment too late. Before she could even think to warn you, the pure feathers she loved to brush her fingers through fell from the sky, the white stained with red, your screams ripping through her eardrums.

No one, including Wanda, had time to think as she exploded with a new rage, one that hadn’t run through her in years. One that she hoped she would never experience again, but here she was. And there you were.

While you were held in the air by her signature red mist, the opposing agents fell to the ground. She didn’t care about their screams, only yours. And with them all dealt with, she could turn to you, rushing you both into the Quinjet and yelling for the other Avengers to get back here, now.

But her efforts were futile. She could press down on the wounds all she wanted, beg for you to come back until her voice was nothing more than a whisper, but nothing would work. You were gone the instant the missile had hit you, and as much as Wanda wanted to deny the truth, she knew it just as much as your other teammates did when they rushed onto the Quinjet. You were gone before you could say a single goodbye.

---

The first time Wanda called was from your shared bedroom. She dialed your number before tracing the pillow where your head would have laid, running her fingers over the cartoon carrots that covered the comforter. The yellow bedding set was a gag gift Tony had gotten the two of you when you got your new bed.

“You know, since I figure the two of you will be going at it like rabbits,” he winked before getting immediately smacked in the back of the head by Steve.

“They will be doing no such thing,” the supersoldier had chastised him with a roll of his eyes. “God, Stark, sometimes I forget you have a brain when you say such stupid things.”

But you loved it, telling Wanda, “The carrots remind me of you, Bunny.” And how could she return the present when you were being so sweet about it? But the sheets didn’t make her smile in the same way they once did because you were gone. No one was there to tease her about the way her nose wiggled much like the little white fluffy creatures or promise to get her carrots from the market the next day.

The call went to voicemail, and as bittersweet as it was, Wanda savored it because it was you. Your voice. But the beep came far too soon, and your turn was done. So she spoke. 

“Y/N, hey, it’s me, Wanda. I, um, I love you. I’ll always love you, yeah?” The witch put the phone down, thinking that was all she could bear to say as the lump in her throat ballooned in size and hot tears filled her eyes. But just before time was up, her hand shot up to press the device against her ear again. “Call me back, milaya.”

---

The second time Wanda called was from the balcony. The brunette eyed the sparkling diamonds that filled the sky, wondering how you could be gone when, the last time she was here, you were right there beside her, laughing over the boys’ latest shenanigans and Ned, the newly named star. 

Now, the beanbag chair felt too big, too empty without another person sitting next to her. Without you. So she dialed your number, the only number she bothered to learn by heart, and waited for the dulcet tones of your voice. As the dial tone rang, she ran one hand over the white feather that laid gingerly in her lap. Natasha had given it to her along with several others a few days after your death. Each of the team members had one to remember you by, but the spy had picked out the biggest and most brilliant ones to give to Wanda.

“I know how much her wings meant to you-” Natasha stiffened as Wanda threw her arms around her. But the witch didn’t care, her tears soaking the redhead’s shirt as she tried to find the words to thank her. She couldn’t, but it was okay. Natasha knew anyway. Wanda had little time to reflect on the memory before her face brightened at the sound of your voice.

“Hi, this is Y/N-

“And her girlfriend, Wanda! She’s taken, so don’t even think about it, you jerk!” Wanda smiled slightly at your jubilant laughter, remembering how you’d pushed her away for interrupting you.

“I’m not available right now, but leave me your name, number, and message and I’ll call you back as soon as I can, okay? Talk to you soon.” The witch’s eyes closed slightly as the greeting ended with a spell of your giggles before it was interrupted by that damn beep. God, how she hated that beep. Nevertheless, she took a breath and spoke out into the clear night sky, looking up at the stars as she did so.

“Hi, lyubov moya, it’s me. Wanda. I’m calling you back, just like you told me to. I’m not okay. I need you. I love you.” Her breath caught in her throat, forcing her to pause for a moment, but she forced herself to keep going a second later. “Sam and Bucky did the stupidest thing today. Nat and Steve were all over their asses. You should’ve seen it. I miss you. Please, call me back. I’ll tell you all about it.”

---

The last time Wanda called was from the sunflower field. The two of you hadn’t been here since the night you told her you loved her. In fact, it took Wanda several hours to find it since she hadn’t been paying much attention to the route the first time you came.

Once again, the night was clear, the stars lighting up the dark canvas with their radiance. She missed the feeling of your wing wrapped around her, of your presence next to her. But she had one of your feathers in her fingers and your voice in her ear, and to ask for more would be greedy, right?

“Hi, angel. It’s Wanda. I’m calling you back to leave a message, but I can’t do it again after this because I don’t want your voicemail to fill up, okay? I’m sorry, I know I’m being selfish, but I need to be able to hear your voice, so I can’t let it fill up. But I haven’t forgotten you, I promise I haven’t. I never will. I’m still-” Wanda swallowed, a fighting effort to calm the waver in her voice. “I’m still not okay, but I’m trying. For you. But I’m not okay, I need you to call me back. I’ve named one up there Halia, but her twin sister needs a name. And naming stars is a two-person job, you know.” The witch sniffed once as the corner of her lip curved up slightly, remembering the playfulness in your voice when you’d first said the line. “Call me back, Y/N, please.”

With the message over, Wanda clutched the phone to her chest, her breaths becoming faster and shallower as she closed her eyes, trying to accept the knowledge that it’d be the last time she’d ever leave a message, the knowledge that she was really losing you… the knowledge that she already lost you.

---

Months went by. Wanda wasn’t sure how they did, but they did. The first sign of it was the first Halloween without you, as she saw the other couples dressing up in matching costumes that you would’ve loved, costumes you would’ve pointed out to Wanda with an excited bounce and told her you’d have to wear next year. The next was Thanksgiving, when Wanda ran through the list of everything she was thankful for and came up short when she thought about the people she still had left. And then it was Christmas, and Valentine’s Day, and the first day of summer.

And while Wanda did her best to move on, she always found herself under the stars, dialing your number. She sat on the balcony, in the sunflower field, wherever she could see the sky, and she listened to your voice telling her that you’d call her back as soon as you could, always forcing herself to hang up a second before the beep could cut you off. Wanda named every other star she saw, leaving the ones in between for you and hoping that you’d approve of the names she chose.

“I’m naming that one Angel for you, Y/N,” Wanda murmured. “It’s even brighter than Philip. It’s the brightest star in the sky. I know you think it’s silly to name things after people, but this one’s just special, so you’re gonna have to make an exception, okay?” The brunette’s lips stopped moving, but her eyes stayed wide open as she watched the star as if, if she watched it long enough, studied it hard enough, you would materialize from its luminescence. As if you would come back to her. But when you didn’t, she finally allowed her watering eyes to rest, her eyelids drooping to surround her in darkness.

“I’m not okay, Y/N.” The witch’s voice was softer than it had ever been, more tired. But this time, there was no one to whisk her off and make her forget the heaviness of it all. “I need you so badly. I love you so much. I always will. But, please, angel, call me back.”

[fluffywolverine]

so season 6 of lucifer came out.

there were some things that i liked, but generally i hated it. i believe that was SUCH. BAD. WRITING and it left me frustrated. so i decided to write down all things that pissed me off and sometimes i try to fix this by giving other ideas that – in my opinion – would have made the story better. Check my points out and feel free to add your points of view. without further ado: let’s talk.

- imma start with the big one – fucking time travel. ok I generally hate this trope in the media, because it’s complicated and often leads to some logical mistakes – and they happened here. so rory time travels because of her anger which was caused… by her anger?? i think this was unnecessary. it also brings trouble with this whole free will vs. fate discourse. lucifer says, that he chooses free will… but at the same time he goes the path of his fate. he disappears from rory’s life, because he HAS TO in order of the events of the season to happen. just because he chose to do it, doesn’t mean it’s free will.

- lucifer becomes the very thing he desperately didn’t want to become. “bUt It WaS fOr ThE gReAtEr GoOd” screw this bullshit, if writers wanted to make it better, they could have easily do so. they could have altered the rules of time travel so that his choice of staying could have resulted in rory disappearing. yes, that would have been heart-breaking, but it would have been a great lesson for lucifer, that he can’t make the same mistakes his father did.

- chloe and Lucifer get a child without even talking about it. “bUt MaYbE tHeY tAlKeD aBoUt It We JuSt DiDn’T sEe It” you may say. but the point of writing anything  - whether it’s a book or a script – is to show any thing that matters. and talking about having kids is one of the most things any couple should do. also not every couple needs to have kids and forcing deckerstar to have it feels so far-fetched. this thread was very unnecessary.

- rory herself is a big problem. to begin with – she wanted to KILL her FATHER. i get her frustration, but commiting a murder?? just because he wasn’t there for her?? I would have thought that chloe taught her better, taught her that, like, killing people is bad. turns out she did not. secondly… she just isn’t necessary here. i elaborate later so in conclusion – her thread could be altered with michael’s and it would have made much more sense. i also don’t like the actress (why was she blinking so much??) so i certainly didn’t help.

- of course ella has to end up with a boyfriend. because earlier she always ended up with “bad boys” and now, without any help, she is just able to have a healthy relationship! yay! for me this creates a toxic view, that in order to be happy one HAS TO be in a relationship, because being alone is aLwAyS bAd. well, it’s not.

- i also have troubles with lucifer starting up a foundation for her. firstly, he didn’t ask her. secondly it – AGAIN – shows, that anything good ella got, was because of another man. firstly because of her relationship with carol, secondly because of lucifer’s idea. it could have been so easily altered! there could have been a scene of a conversation e.g. with amenadiel where she expressed a will to do better and be better for someone (given that she sees a lot of dark in herself). amenadiel could have then told her, that she is an inspiration and that it is her biggest strength. that could have been where ella came up with an idea to start a foundation blah blah – it’s just a rough idea but I believe that written well, it could have been so much better;

- and the last thing about ella – of course she had to find out about celestial stuff because sHe WaS tHe OnLy OnE rEmAiNiNg. umm what about trixie? i'll come back to her later. ella was portrayed as the only one believing in god and having her seeing that he really exists ruins the concept of faith. it’s not about knowing something exists, it’s about believing in it.

- WHERE THE FUCK IS MICHAEL. i must admit that i loved this character AND I CAN’T STAND HOW AWFULLY HE WAS TREATED HERE. so at the end of season 5 lucifer says “everyone deserves a second chance, even you michael". and what does he do then? COMMANDS HIS TWIN TO CLEAR THE FLOOR IN HELL. yes, i agree that michael should have been punished for his rebellion plan, but… he already has his wing cut off. now he’s stuck in hell, with no way out and is he supposed to learn his lesson? this is cruel. instead of this the entire season could have been centred on him – his journey to self-acceptance, learning how manipulating someone is toxic and starting to realise how to be a better person. at the end he could have become god (because amenadiel is such an obvious choice), which would create a beautiful connection – michael in heaven and his twin in hell.

- lucifer doesn’t feel like being god and that’s cool. damn. people died for him to win this place and he’s like “actually you know guys i’m not the right person bye”. while i believe that anyone should step out if they have a reason, but at the same time lucifer should have faced any consequences of his decisions. falling frog and kool aid in the river are not enough.

- adam’s plot feels just quickly sketched, not actually written. i really appreciate this take on toxic masculinity but it all felt too fast-paced. it’s good that they show this idea of “strong and not-showing-any-feelings man” kind of attitude, but it is impossible for ANYONE (especially The ManTM) to change their mind in a matter of a few days. it takes weeks, months, years even, especially given that adam is like a gazillion years old, he should have especially taken a long time to process this.

- carol is just too pure to exist. he’s also one of the most boring, plain and one-dimensional character i’ve ever seen. i feel like they gave him a problem with alcohol because the writers were like “hmmmmm he has to have some weakness. LET’S MAKE HIM AN ALCOHOLIC”. we don’t see any signs of his everyday struggle, why did he fell into this problem, how did struggle. it just feels like a dull plot device to show that he has flaws. oh and also he’s so pure that he doesn’t mind ella BREAKING INTO HIS HOUSE. acceptance should have boundaries and violating someone’s personal space isn’t right.

- why did they forget about trixie again? yes, i know that scarlett estevez had another project but this does not justify the bad writing. the girl lost her father and we only see her crying once because of that. no signs of this affecting her everyday life, not showing any consequences of her relationships with other people, not  glimpse of any change in her behaviour. oh and also she loses lucifer too because time travel! great idea, writers! losing another close to her person would have been soooooo good for her psychic for sure.

- i also hate the idea that suddenly rory becomes the only child they care for. where is trixie when they spend their day on the beach? where is she when her mother dies? did writers forget about her as well as they did about michael?

- amenadiel being a police officer is… problematic. i was looking forward to this thread, i was kinda scared too and it turned out… meh. i’m white and not American, so this of course does not involve me at all, but i felt like this was not enough. harris basically said that there is nothing they can do to make it better for black folks. even though chloe and amenadiel want to make everything more just, we don’t actually see any change. the only thing is that harris becomes a detective (right? i’m not sure if i understood it correctly, so correct me if i’m wrong, please) which is a total contradiction of what she said before. suddenly she does not have to protect people anymore?

- in season 5 they stated that heaven and hell need to be fixed, as the system is unfair and unjust. at the end we don’t see any change, the only thing that is different is lucifer helping damned souls. it doesn’t help at all! these people still go to hell, they still suffer and there’s nothing that changed here! plus there is also this thing, that a sociopath who murdered people in cold blood goes to heaven (because he does not feel any guilt) and a person abused by her parents/partner/whoever goes to hell (because have been manipulated to feel guilt).

- dan making amends with trixie while… there wasn’t really anything to make amends about. like, most of the parents make mistakes while upbringing their children, but does this make them unworthy of heaven? i would have preferred dan to slowly regain his self-consciousness, how he positively affected the lives of people around him and by doing so – through conversations or maybe reliving some of the memories, he could have proved to himself that he is worthy of love and redemption.

phew, what a ride. i really liked dan being reunited with charlotte (it went just as i imagined) and mazeve dynamics. i even felt like they are finally a real life relationship – with people hurting each other by not understanding each other, but then talking and seeing other’s perspective. generally though, i’m very disappointed.

sorry for any mistakes, lacking commas etc. writing a text this long in not my native language was not easy.

[kimoralov3]

Let Me Buy You a Coffee

Requested by: Anonymous

Word Count: 1861

Pairing: Erik Lehnsherr x mutant!fem!reader

Warnings: swearing

(Y/N)'s POV

"One medium black coffee and an extra large iced coffee." The barista called from the counter. I walked up and grabbed the coffee, thanking the barista then making my way back to the table where me and Alex were sitting.

"You keep drinking all that coffee and you're gonna have a heart attack." He said as I handed him his coffee. I chuckled as I sat down, throwing my balled up straw paper at him.

"Well, I haven't died yet and you only live once, so why not enjoy the life you have." I said as I took a sip of my coffee. "So, how's working at the school going for you?"

"About as well as working with elementary to high school aged kids could go. I know I'm probably not supposed to say this, but some of those kids would make the devil himself blush with their 'pranks'." 

"Damn, that bad?"

"(Y/N), if you think we were bad as kids, wait till you meet these ones. They're fucking ruthless."

"Maybe I should take back my application for student counselor." 

"No, those kids need someone like you to set them straight. Maybe then they'd stop putting hair dye in the coffee creamer." He groaned out as he took a sip of his coffee.

"Damn, these kids are ruthless."

----

Erik's POV

"Are you sure this is the coffee shop Alex always runs away to?" I asked Charles as we walked inside the small shop.

"Yes, he mentioned that he has started meeting an old friend of his a few weeks ago. What kind of coffee do you want?"

"Just get me a latte, I'll find us a table to sit at." Charles nodded and walked to the counter while I got us a table by the window. This place could use a thorough clean. Or two. Charles came back and sat down, setting up the chess set he brought along. "Do you really need to drag that around everywhere?"

"There's nothing wrong with having a game of chess at the ready. So, how do you like being a history teacher?" Charles asked as he made the first move. 

"It's going as well as it can go, I guess. I still can't believe that you decided to create a school for mutant children, but waste their time making them learn human history."

"No matter what they are now, they should still know their ancestors' history. Especially if it's still holding an effect on how they're treated now."

"I guess you're right. How's your search for a student counselor going?" I asked as Charles took one of my pieces. 

"So far only 2 people have applied. The first one I interviewed just didn't seem right, and the other one's interview is tomorrow evening." 

"Well, I wish you the best of luck."

"One latte and one green tea!" The barista called from the counter. While Charles went to get our drinks, I took the chance to get a good look at the place. Besides the obvious need for a clean, this place looked pretty nice. 

"Here you go." Charles handed me my coffee while he sat down. I muttered a thank you, looking across the room. Who is that with Alex? Charles followed my line of eyesight, chuckling when he saw what I was staring at. "That's Alex's friend I presume."

"Who knew that there could be anyone who could deal with Alex." I said as I took a sip of my coffee.

"You should go say hello to her." Charles suggested as he sipped his tea.

"What? No, that's insane. Why would I do that?"

"Because you think she's cute."

"What makes you say that?" I asked as I leaned back in the chair, crossing my arms over my chest.

"I may be a telepath, Erik, but even a blind man could tell that your eyes sparkled when you saw her."

"You're delusional."

"Whatever you say."

----

(Y/N)'s POV

I walked down the hallways, searching for the principal's office. Why is this school so damn big? I'd been wandering around for about 15 minutes now, and if I didn't find his office soon I would be late for my interview. I should've asked Alex for directions yesterday.

"Do you need some help?" A voice called from behind me. I turned around to see a man - a very cute one at that - standing outside a classroom. 

"Yes please. I'm looking for the principal's office, could you point me in that direction?" I asked as I walked up to him. He towers over me. It would be intimidating if we were under different circumstances. 

"Leave it to Charles to forget to give people simple instructions. His office is down this way, 3rd door on the left. Would you like me to walk you there?" 

"Yes, thank you so much. What's your name by the way?" I asked as we started walking towards our destination.

"Erik. What's yours?"

"(Y/N). So, are you a teacher here?"

"Yes, I teach history. What made you decide to apply for student counselor?"

"Well my friend Alex is also a teacher here, and he told me that there was a new position opening up. I've always loved working with children, so this job seems like a perfect fit." I explained. 

"Well, you'll do great here. These kids may be a handful, but I have no doubt that you'll be able to handle them." He said as we came to a stop outside Charles' office. 

"Thank you. And thank you for helping me find his office. I hope to see you again soon."

"As do I. And I wish you the best of luck on your interview."

----

It's been a few weeks since I officially started working at the school, but I haven't seen Erik anywhere around lately. Maybe he's avoiding me. 

"Knock knock knock. Are you busy?" Alex asked as he knocked on my office door. I looked up from my paperwork, nodding my head. 

"Yeah, I have a lot of paperwork to fill out. Some kids got hurt earlier today, and I have to fill out reports for that. Then some other students have just been coming to me for advice for what to do after they graduate, so I'm looking up mutant friendly places that will be hiring around that time." 

"Sheesh. Seems like you'll be busy for the next few days. You want me to pick up some coffee from our favorite place?" He asked as he leaned against the door frame. 

"Yes please, I haven't had coffee in 3 days and I'm 5 minutes away from exploding." I said as I gave him the money for my coffee.

"Sounds like you'll need an extra large today. This will be the only time I encourage your addiction though, so don't get used to it." 

"Whatever you say, Summers."

----

Erik's POV

"The paper is due next Thursday, so that will give you plenty of time to research and revise whatever you need to. Class dismissed." I said as I wrote the instructions and due date for the paper on the chalkboard. 

"Wait Professor Lehnsherr, could I ask you a question?" Jean asked as she walked up to my desk. I nodded, sitting down at my desk. "Have you talked to the new student counselor?"

"Only once. Why?" I asked as I adjusted my glasses. 

"Oh, no reason. That's all I was wondering." She said before she hurried off. That's strange. I sighed, packing up my stuff before exiting the classroom. 

"Sounds like you'll need an extra large today. This will be the only time I encourage your addiction though, so don't get used to it." 

"Whatever you say, Summers."

Alex walked out of (Y/N)'s office, giving me a nod before continuing about his day. I haven't talked to (Y/N) since the day of her interview, I should probably go say hi. I walked into her office, knocking on the door frame. (Y/N) looked up, smiling and putting her work away when she saw me. 

"Hey Erik. What brings you here?" She asked as she sat up straight.

"I was just stopping by to talk to you. Sorry I didn't get a chance to stop by sooner."

"Well you're here now. Go ahead, sit down." She said as she gestured to one of the chairs in front of her desk. I smiled slightly, taking a seat in the seat positioned directly in front of her. 

"So, how have you been adjusting to working at the school?" I rested my chin in the palm of my hand, giving (Y/N) my full attention. She cleared her throat before speaking. 

"I've been getting along great. The rest of the faculty don't seem to mind me too much, and most of the students love me."

"Do you have any favorites?"

"Now now professor, you know we're not supposed to have favorites." (Y/N) joked as she leaned back in her chair. I chuckled, shaking my head.

"You can call me Erik. And there's no harm in having students you can bear more than others. You're telling me you don't have even one of those students?"

"Well I may have one or two." She finally confessed.

"Do tell."

"Jean Grey and Peter Maximoff. They both have very different personalities, but they're the most sincere kids at this school."

"How do you know?"

"Empathic abilities plus being able to tell when someone is lying. Comes in pretty handy sometimes."

"That's fascinating. I've never seen something quite like that."

"Why thank you."

"Well, I shouldn't keep you long. You seem to have a lot of work to fill out and I have a lot of papers to grade. I'll make sure to visit you soon, though." I said as I stood up, fixing my coat. (Y/N) nodded, walking me to the door.

"See you around, Erik."

----

(Y/N)'s POV

I pulled the door open, walking into the coffee shop and stopping for a second to take in the pleasant smell. The smell of coffee will always feel like home. 

"(Y/N)?" A voice called from the side of the shop. I turned around to see Erik seated at a table, briefcase spewing with papers. I smiled, walking over to him.

"I wasn't expecting to see you here. You having fun grading those papers?" I asked as I sat down in front of him. 

"As much fun as you can when your students don't know when to use a comma or a semicolon. Would you like a coffee?"

"Yeah, but I'll pay for it." I reached into my purse but my hand stopped midway. "Are you using your powers on me?"

"Maybe. Let me pay for your coffee. You're gonna have to sit here and listen to me complain about my students horrible grammar, the least I could do is provide you with some fuel."

"Are you asking me on a date?" I asked as I tilted my head to the side.

"Only if you want it to be. What do you say?"

I pretended to think about it for a moment before sighing. "Fine, but I'm buying the next round of coffee. Deal?"

"Deal."

[adorablele]

we’re just friends; l.dh

hello!!! can i request an imagine with haechan kinda like they were best friends in the past and then after a long time they meet each other again and he finds you really pretty? love all your writings!!!!! 💗💘💞💕 

↬ pairing; lee donghyuck x female!reader

↬  genre; fluff,, angst 

↬ word count; 3.5k+ (my longest fic yet pls don’t flop)

↬ summary; he put the wrong label on your friendship, just like how the grocery store labeled the aisle incorrectly.

↬ a/n; I thought the photo of hyuck was very nice which was why I used it as a header, but if anyone would like to make a header for this fic, I’ll give you virtual hugs <3 also, this is the FIRST TIME I’m writing an angsty ending so feedback is appreciated :)))) 

“excuse me.” someone tapped him on the shoulder.

seven year old donghyuck turned around, quizzically looking at you, “what?”

you made a face at his response. “you need to go to the back of the line,” your tone matched his.

“why?” he immediately asked, eyes boring into yours.

you stared back. “‘cause I was here first.”

“who says?” 

“I say!” you retorted, crossing your arms.

he snorted, “I was clearly here first, that’s why you’re standing behind me.”

you glared at the boy, “what are you a pig?”

he opened his mouth, but you cut him off, “and, the first person stands on the line. you’re in front of it, so I’m first.”

the clearing of a throat interrupted your argument. the two of you looked at the class know-it-all. 

“you guys are both wrong, I’m first.”

“who says?” both you and donghyuck asked.

having caused such a ruckus, the teacher booted the two of you to the back of the line. with a glare aimed at the smug little girl, the both of you followed the teacher’s instruction. 

on his way back, donghyuck spotted his friends, giving them a smile. they high-fived and allowed him to stand in front of them in line. you frowned at him, reminding him that ‘you can’t cut,’ before dutifully continuing your lonesome journey to the back of the line. donghyuck chuckled at your sulkily hung head and told his friends to save two spots at the lunch table. 

“she’s so annoying,” you mumbled, kicking the nonexistent pebbles on the floor, “she thinks she knows everything.”

“I know right,” the boy agreed, eyebrows raising when you jumped.

upon realizing it was him, your gaze went back down to the floor, “I thought you were up there with your friends.”

“the teacher told me to get to the back of the line,” he lied.

you looked at him for a moment. he simply looked back. you pursed your lips, crossing your arms and turning your head, chin up and away from him, “serves you right!” you then proceeded to march away, following the moving line. 

not hearing his footsteps, you peeked behind you. you sighed and fully turned around, placing a hand on your hip.

“are you coming?”

“it’s supposed to be there, not their,” he mumbled to you, reading over your shoulder.

“I’ll fix it when I revise and edit,” you dismissed, continuing to write your draft.

“there’s not supposed to be a comma after you,” he pointed out.

“again, I’ll just fix it when I’m editing,” you told him, thoughts halting because of the boy.

“you know-”

“oh my god, hyuck! just give me these comments when we peer review on thursday!” you exclaimed, glaring at the smirking 10 year old.

“don’t use the lord’s name in vain,” he tsked.

“how cute,” the waitress cooed, setting down the drinks on the table, “are you guys studying together?”

“I wouldn’t say that,” you muttered, annoyance laced in your voice.

the waitress arched a brow, leaning closer to donghyuck. “you like her, don’t you?” she loudly whispered.

he looked at her like she was crazy, not noticing the way your hand froze once the question was asked. “we’re just friends.”

with a slow nod, the waitress looked over at you. she chuckled when you quickly looked down at your paper. “whatever you say,” she shrugged, leaving to go serve other customers in the busy diner.

“what if we drift apart?” you sighed, sipping your juice box as he ate his sandwich on the picnic blanket.

we laughed, ‘we von’t brif abarph.”

you frowned at the boy, “chew your food.”

after a minute of silence, he spoke again. “we won’t drift apart.”

you didn’t say anything. he peered over at you, the loud slurping of the juice box catching his attention.

“I think it’s empty,” he commented, taking another bite of his sandwich. 

you pushed his shoulder, “hyuck, be serious! some friend drift away in middle school.”

he rubbed his shoulder, the crushed juice box gripped tightly in your hand. he sighed and leaned back. “life can’t tear us apart,” he looked up at the sky, “and even if they try, I won’t let you go so easily.”

he grinned at you, the muscles moving automatically upon seeing your sparkly gaze on him, “I mean, who else am I supposed to copy answers from?”

you rolled your eyes, “what are friends for, I guess.”

“you are not going to leave me to ride the bus alone on the first day of school!” 

donghyuck chuckled at the threat you told him the night before, the words somehow motivating him to get out of bed despite how much his blankets begged him to come back. when he arrived at the bus stop, you were pacing back and forth, eyes frantically looking around.

“the bus doesn’t arrive for another-” 

“where have you been?” you cried, hugging him, “I thought I was going to be alone!”

“well, I’m here,” he laughed, patting you on the back reassuringly, “still sleepy, but here nonetheless.”

he listened as you rambled away, nerves floating through your words as the two of you waited for the bus to arrive. you were silent when the bus parked in front of the two of you. he gestured for you to walk in first, and you did, planting down in the window seat. donghyuck yawned, slumping into the seat next to you. he didn’t waste any time, plopping his backpack on the floor next to yours as he leaned his head against your shoulder. 

he quietly counted to himself, hoping that he’ll help him fall back asleep. when he got to thirty, he felt your fingers brush through his hair. it caught him off guard, but eventually, he relaxed, continuing to count to sixty before he left to dreamland.

somewhere along the way, he stopped counting. he didn’t need to count, simply waiting until you played with his hair for him to feel relaxed enough to sleep. 

“hey, are you two dating?” a brown haired boy asked one morning. donghyuck recognized him, the guy sat two seats behind the bus driver. he believed his name had min in it or something.

however, donghyuck didn’t think much about the boy’s name, choosing to laugh at his question instead. you joined in not a second later. donghyuck stared at the boy like he was the funniest person in the world. 

“we’re just friends.”

the guy’s eyes flickered between the two of you suspiciously before he shrugged, “right okay.”

“hey jeno,” he called out waving over to his friend who was actively ignoring him, “jeno, come here! they’re not dating!”

jeno glared at his friend, quickly walking over to him, “why does that matter?” 

“because you-” jeno interrupted his friend, sending an apologetic glance at you and donghyuck, “sorry about jaemin, he’s stupid sometimes.”

you waved him off and gave a nod towards donghyuck. “it’s okay, stupid is his middle name.”

donghyuck gave you a side-eye, “I’m not the one who used soap as toothpaste this morning.”

“they’re both green!” you defended.

jeno and jaemin were easily forgotten, left to watch the two of you bicker away. 

jaemin snickered in jeno’s ear, “we’re just friends, they say.”

“I know you have it!” renjun yelled, keeping jaemin in a headlock.

“renjun, let jaemin go,” you sighed, setting down your lunch on the table.

“so abusive,” jaemin weeped, clinging onto you once he was out of renjun’s deadly arms.

“we don’t know if he was the one who took your moomin plushie, so calm down,” you told him. however, your words went to waste when jaemin stuck his tongue out at renjun, triggering the boy to lunge at him. you looked over at jeno, hoping he’d stop the fight, but jeno remained unbothered, finishing whatever he was writing. 

donghyuck silently sat there, the moonmin plushie hidden in his backpack. he went by unnoticed, his plan succeeding. a subtle, sly smirk rested on his lips, one that no one noticed. no one, but you. 

“hyuck,” you called out.

“yeah,” he smiled, feigning an innocent look.

“where’d you hide it?”

“hide what?” he asked, tilting his head.

you gave him a pointed look to which he responded with a shrug, “why are you- hey!”

renjun grabbed donghyuck’s backpack, digging through it like there’s no tomorrow. he lifted the plushie out of the bag, lips lined straight.

“aight, imma head out,” donghyuck coughed, bolting out of the lunch room.

“you’re so dead!” renjun screamed chasing after his friend.

donghyuck slumped against the wall, trying to catch his breath. he was almost successful in framing jaemin for his mischievous act, keyword being almost. he shook his head, your careful eyes popping into his mind.

of course you figured it out, you always did.

“well, we have a month,” jaemin smiled.

“yeah, why don’t we start planning?” jeno suggested.

renjun pulled out his notebook, labeling the page as ‘donghyuck’s a coward - things to do so he’ll pee himself’. And while the three of them were busy brainstorming activities for the group to do before he left, donghyuck couldn’t help but focus on you. 

you were silent, mouth sewn shut ever since he dropped the news. you wouldn’t look at him, and after a few minutes of picking at your food, you excused yourself. he trailed after you, spotting you in a squatted position in the field.

“life can’t tear us apart, huh?” you laughed, plucking the dandelion from the ground. 

he squatted down next to you, staring at the dandelion twirling in your hand. 

“that’s still true.”

“you’re moving, hyuck.” your voice was soft, almost blending in with the whistles of the wind. you crushed the dandelion pedals, the tears starting to prick in your eyes.

he lifted your chin to look up at him. he wiped away the tears, cupping your face. 

“hey, hey, you’re going to be fine! you’ve got jeno, jaemin and renjun by your side,” he reassured.

donghyuck pulled you into a hug, the pedals in your hand drifting away in the slight breeze. he watched them slowly land a few feet away from the picnic blanket. his grip tightened, your tears streaming down your face.

“I won’t let you go so easily,” he promised. 

donghyuck wished he stuck to those words, but here he was, five years later, with zero attempts to contact you. he touched the chain around his neck, fingers trailing down to the jewel with your birthday engraved in it. 

(“you never remember my birthday,” you pouted, “so here’s your reminder!”)

subconsciously, he started to rub it, the fleeting thought that this could magically summon you passed through his mind. he shook his head, ignoring all the unpacked boxes surrounding him and deciding that it was a nice day to go walking.

following the familiar tune, donghyuck walked until he spotted the ice cream truck nearby. just as he was about to stand behind the line, a person cut in front of him. he blinked, shocked that someone, presumably an adult, would cut in front of him for some ice cream. what shocked him more was this unsettling feeling that this girl looked like you. 

“excuse me,” he said, tapping the person on the shoulder.

donghyuck couldn’t believe his eyes, even when he recognized that scar on your eyebrow from when he dared you to jump off the swing, teasing you that you didn’t have the guts.

(“you’re bleeding!” he cried, tears effortlessly falling down his face as you cried along with him.)

if he wasn’t so close, he wouldn’t have been able to see it. 

“yes?” you asked, tone way politer than it was back in first grade.

donghyuck almost forgot why he even approached you, distracted by how the sun created a halo around you. his heart sped up, maybe you weren’t y/n. he didn’t remember you looking this pretty.

“you need to go to the back of the line,” he finally said.

you furrowed your brows, head tilting. “why…” your voice trailed off, a hint in your voice saying that your question wasn’t applying to what he just said.

he grinned seeing the gears turning in your head. “‘cause I was here first.”

if possible, the sun shone brighter, acting as the lightbulb that went off in your head.

“donghyuck?” 

“are you sure you’re free today?” he asked, eyeing the basket in your hand.

you nodded, “yeah. I was planning to enjoy this meal in the park since it’s such a nice day out today.”

“by yourself?” he asked, raising a brow.

“can’t tell if you’re judging me, but yes, by myself.”

“I’m not,” he paused, “intruding on a date with yourself?”

you stopped walking, turning to look to your left like someone was there, “hey y/n, are you okay with this?”

you stepped to the left, looking to your right, “yeah, I’m good, what about you?”

stepping back to the right, you frowned to your left, “I don’t know.” you looked back at donghyuck’s amused eyes, “he hasn’t contacted us in five years, should he really eat lunch with us?”

for the last time, you stepped to the left, “just don’t give him the cake.”

with a nod, you stepped in front of donghyuck, “myself and I think it’s okay.”

“lee donghyuck!” three boys shouted, attracting the attention of the people trying to enjoy a peaceful day at the park.

his eyes widened, looking over at your cheeky smile. 

“maybe I lied,” you giggled. 

and before he could think about the butterflies that erupted in his stomach when he heard the sound, the aforementioned three boys attacked him with slaps on the backs, words overlapping each other. 

“where have you been?”

“you do have a phone, right?”

“why are you avoiding us?”

“did you move back here?”

“are you visiting?”

“guys!” you yelled, catching the attention of the boys, “whoever’s barbecuing might want to check on the food, it’s smelling a bit burnt.”

“and-” you interrupted yourself, laughing at the untold story.

donghyuck didn’t mind, he was busy processing the noise, still not used to the fluttering in his stomach. your laugh resonated in his ears and harmonized with the chirps of the birds. it left him with a stomach full of giddiness.

“it would help if you finished your story,” renjun pointed out, taking a bite of his food.

you waved him off, “I will, I will!”

you continued your tale, recounting countless shenanigans that he missed in the past five years like when jaemin got bombarded with pom poms because he accidentally walked into the girl’s locker room.

(“I guess that’s one way to get their attention,” you laughed.

“it was my first week there! how was I supposed to know they were lying to me?”

“maybe read the signs?” renjun suggested.)

or when jeno had to reject a guy because he slipped a confession letter into the wrong locker. 

(“what a heartbreaker,” jaemin tsked, receiving a glare from jeno. 

“the letter didn’t even have his name on the paper!”)

or when renjun almost blew up the school during chemistry because he refused to listen to his lab partner. 

(“he wanted to impress her,” jeno commented.

“spoiler alert, it failed,” you added.

“she thought I was dumb,” renjun frowned.)

or when you tackled a random stranger, thinking he was the one who pranked you.

“he’s my boyfriend, now.”

did he mishear that?

“right now,” you pouted, plushed  beautifully under the sun’s rays, “he’s abroad in europe.”

“he’ll be back in two days, don’t worry,” jaemin reassured you, patting you on the back.

your eyes held all the stars in the galaxy when you talked about pandas, your favorite animal, and donghyuck thought that that was the only time your eyes would ever put the stars to shame. 

he was wrong.

as you were spewing out stories about your boyfriend, your eyes made him think that he was looking through a telescope, staring up at the night sky. you held a shy smile, melting donghyuck’s heart to mush. 

but then those words echoed in his mind. 

he’s my boyfriend.

they swirled in his mind, traveling down his spine and coiling around his heart like a snake. it crushed him, leaving a pool of disappointment in his chest. he shouldn’t be disappointed.

he looked at your practically glowing figure. your cheeks were faint with red, your lips softer than the blanket on your lap, your hands looking too heavy for you to hold, but you weren’t his. 

“we’re just friends,” he breathed out, words blending with the wind. they were heavier than he remembered, bitter as he let it rest on his tongue. thankfully, no one heard him. except you, of course.

“did you say something?” you asked him, almost swearing that you saw his mouth move.

he blinked, “what?”

you furrowed your brows, “nothing, I thought you had something to say.”

donghyuck shook his head, heart palpitating with your eyes intensely analyzing him. he took a bite of his food, hoping that you wouldn’t bother him now that he was occupied with chewing. and you did, dropping the topic and continuing on about the adventures you had with jeno, jaemin, renjun and- he doesn’t know your boyfriend’s name. 

he scoffed silently to himself, he’ll find out later. he’s bound to hear the guy’s name again, anyway.

donghyuck found it funny how he left the picnic early to get his mind off of you, yet here he was, strolling behind you with the shopping cart filled with various junk foods. it was almost two in the morning, but he couldn’t say no to you, not when he could practically see your cute pout through the phone. 

you hopped on the colored tiles scattered on the floor, humming along to some tune playing in your head. your eyes roamed over the sweet treats on the shelves, and he chuckled when you pointed out that the aisle was labeled as spices. donghyuck thought it was unfair that you seemed to shine no matter the time of day, even under the dimly lit grocery store lamps. he sighed, especially under the dimly lit grocery store lamps.

with a gasp, you grabbed a box of cookies from the shelf, waving them in his face. “it’s your favorite cookies!” you teased.

he hated those cookies. 

“actually, I’m already going with someone to the dance.”

the girl shook her head, pushing the cookies back to him, “who-”

“you got me cookies?” you squealed, appearing out of nowhere and taking the box of cookies from him.

“actually-” his admirer started, trying to take back the gift from you.

you ignored the girl, ripping opening the box and stuffing one in your mouth.

“thanks hyuck!”

“is she the one your taking to the dance?” the other girl sneered, looking at you with a glare.

he wrapped an arm around your shoulder, smiling fondly at you as you giddily ate the cookies you knew he didn’t like. “well yeah, she’s my girl friend.” 

and you looked at him with a mouth full of cookies and cheeks flushed red. you nodded, “yep, he’s my boyfriend.”

he chuckled, his thumb wiping away the crumbs on your face. “you’re not going to leave any cookies for me?” he teased.

while he meant for the label to be platonic (simply a girl who’s a friend), donghyuck knew that his classmate took it romantically. and he almost went along with it, but when jaemin asked him if the two of you were finally dating, he laughed it off. ‘we’re just friends.’ he ignored the discontent in his stomach and how empty it felt when you shrugged off his arm.

regret clouded his mind, forcing another memory into his brain.

“my family is waiting for me in the car,” donghyuck chuckled, your arms locked in place.

“let them wait,” you frowned, words muffled by his shirt.

“I got to get going.”

your grip tightened and you told him three words that he acted like he didn’t hear.

“I love you,” he blurted.

your smile dropped, along with your arms. you stared at him with confused eyes and backed up three steps.

“remember when that girl told me that?” he quickly added, the seed of regret growing, continuously gnawing away at his heart with each second that passed by, “she made a banner and everything.”

silence.

you could see through him, you always did. that made his heart pound even more. you were just staring at him.

“I have a boyfriend.” your voice was level despite the wavering in your eyes and the tense scrunch of your shoulders. 

he swallowed, hesitant to speak. “I know.”

donghyuck clenched his jaw, he knew that. he didn’t need another reminder that he was too late. he didn’t need another reminder that he should’ve confessed to you before he left. he didn’t need another reminder that you moved on. 

“I...I have to go.”

you left him there, surrounded by boxes of sweet snacks in an aisle labeled as spices. 

[heyyyharry]

Chapter 11: Our Place

(from the My Girl Trilogy: Stay Mine)

…in which they learn something about trust.

Warning: SMUT.

Word count: 5.9k

AU: actor!Harry, older!Harry, younger!Y/N, (4-year age gap).

Wattpad link (Thea as Y/N)

I got food poisoning yesterday and it was like waking up from a comma because I thought today was Tuesday. I’ve got only two days to write the next TCTM chapter. Fuck. Me.

Anyway, enjoy this chapter! Let me know what you think :)

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Laura was asleep when Y/N came. The nurse attending her said that she’d woken up for a few minutes before drifting off again, so Y/N would have to come back tomorrow if she wanted to speak to Laura. At least now she knew Laura was safe. It was getting late and she had already texted Laura’s assistant; her job here was done. She’d better go home and get some rest.

But the thing was, she didn’t really want to go home. The thought of facing Blake – who must have been waiting for her to come back so they could talk – instantly put her off. Thank God she’d never given him her number.

As soon as she exited the hospital, she fished out her phone to call the only person she wanted to see right now. Before she could even unlock the screen, however, she spotted him standing right by his car. Maybe telepathic communication was real.

His face lit up the second he saw her. He waved, and her tight muscles eased with relief as she adjusted the strap of her bag on her shoulder and ambled toward him. He pushed away from his car, met her halfway and eagerly wrapped her in his arms. She melted instantly into his protective hug, blinking back her tears. Fuck. It’d been a really shitty day.

“I’m sorry I lied to you,” she mumbled as he pressed his lips to her forehead. She’d texted him an hour ago that she’d been writing and needed to be alone in order to focus. Though she’d hoped he wouldn’t come over to check on her, she was glad he’d shown up here.

“Laura’s assistant called me because she couldn’t reach you,” he said, his face taut with concern. “Have you spoken to her?”

Y/N nodded, watching his brows pulled together.

“I’m sorry about what happened with Laura,” he ventured. “How is she?”

“She was asleep when I left…”

“Did you know she was a heavy drinker?”

“No,” she murmured. “I just came over to ask her why she’d cancelled the meeting with the publisher, and I found her unconscious out on the floor.”

Half of the truth was all she could afford to tell him; he’d be so upset to find out about what Blake had done. Besides, tomorrow he’d have to hear the truth about his father and Gemma and Isaac, so she couldn’t unload her burden on him now.

Suddenly, she wondered if Gemma and Isaac had already left. What if Harry had run into them before Y/N had come out? Judging from how calm he seemed, Y/N guessed he hadn’t.

“Come on,” he spoke, rubbing her arms to warm her up. “I’ll take you home.”

“Wait.” She tugged at his sleeve, feeling a bit shy. “Can I...can I stay at your place tonight?”

He blinked at her, his lips slightly parted, then he smiled. “My place is yours, kid. You don’t have to ask.”

He kissed her on the cheek and opened the door on the passenger side for her. She got in. Her eyes stayed fixed on him when he got behind the wheel and buckled his seatbelt. As he started the car, she started to replay those four words inside her head.

My place is yours.

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At his place, she took a shower while he prepared dinner for the two of them. She felt a sense of guilt and misplaced anger for the things she wasn’t allowed to tell him. He was happy tonight, well, not exactly happy, but he wasn’t in a bad mood, and completely unaware of all the terrible things Winton and Emilia had been doing to him since the beginning. They didn’t deserve him. But who was she to criticize? She hadn’t been honest, either. She’d doubted him today, and for a moment believed he had something to do with Laura when it’d turned out to be Blake.

Blake. God. She felt like such a wimp for not being able to face him after their fight. Why did she have to feel sorry when it was him who was in the wrong?

“Dinner is ready!” Harry’s announcement pulled her out of her thoughts. She turned off the water and poked her head out of the shower to see his silhouette idling outside the bathroom door.

“Why don’t you come in?” she asked, biting back a grin when she imagined him smirking.

“I wouldn’t be able to help myself and dinner would get cold,” he reasoned.

“I don’t mind cold dinner as long as we’ve got hot sex.”

Her answer made him laugh. She swore to God that sexy low laugh of his made her knees go weak every fucking time. “Just get dressed, please,” he said. “I’ll wait for you downstairs.”

“All right.” She rolled her eyes and wrapped a towel around her torso. His silhouette disappeared from the door.

After having blow-dried her hair, she put on a dark blue silk bathrobe with his initials on the back (she’d always joked about how vain of him to have his initials embroidered on his robes) and made her way downstairs. The house was dark, but she didn’t wonder why; Harry rarely turned on the lights when he was alone. Sometimes he was lazy, sometimes he did it on purpose to enjoy the comforting darkness. She’d found it weird at first but she was used to it now.

Padding down the hallway to the dining room, she came into the soft warm orange light coming through the door gaps. Curious and anticipative, she pawed the door open and was met with a candlelit room, dinner for two made by Harry, who was still dressed in the same clothes he’d worn earlier – a black t-shirt tucked into high-waisted black trousers. He looked handsome and put-together as always; meanwhile, she looked like she was here for the spa. She didn’t mind, and neither did he.

He set down the champagne bottle to put his arms around her and kiss her on the lips, cheek and forehead. “Hmm, you smell good,” he growled into her ear, which made her giggle as she placed a hand on his chest and pushed him away.

“What’s all this?” she asked, scanning her eyes around the room.

He gave a shrug. “Just wanna do something nice for my girlfriend.”

“You didn’t have to–”

“Just sit down, will you?” He pulled a chair and nodded his head toward it, so she rolled her eyes and sat down with her hands on her lap.

“I hope you like spaghetti,” he said, taking the seat across from her. She looked down at the plate of meatballs and spaghetti. It was the only thing he knew how to cook.

“Believe it or,” she said as he poured champagne into their glasses. “This is actually the first decent meal I’ve had this week. I’ve been living off on instant noodles and protein bars. No joke.”

He sat frozen in his seat, horror overtaking his face. “That’s not good, Bambi. You have to eat well. If we lived together, I would feed you three proper meals a day.”

She took a sip from her glass and rested her chin on her knuckles. “I love you, baby. But I don’t think I can eat spaghetti three times a day every day.”

“I might even take a cooking class for you. No joke,” he stated and clinked his glass with hers. Her heart fluttered as she knew he meant it.

“Stop being so goddamn perfect or I might drop down on my knee and propose to you right away.” She reached across the table to squeeze his hand and stroked the ring she’d given him. “Or maybe I already did.”

“This ring doesn’t count,” he objected, acting upset. “I’m not that kind of guy, Bambi. You’re gonna have to buy me a real ring if you’re gonna propose.”

“You know what? I’ve changed my mind.” She raised both hands, shaking her head. “I don’t want to marry you anymore.”

A few jokes later, silence somehow found its way back in, but they weren’t bothered by it. The food was still untouched as they continued eyeing each other. Y/N’s heart bloated at the way he looked at her, with so much adoration and bliss, as if she meant everything to him. Well, that was because she did. She knew she did; he’d said it too many times before.

She decided to shake off all the bad things that had happened tonight as she stood and walked around the table toward him. He didn’t break eye contact with her as she settled onto his lap, straddling his waist, arms around his neck. He plucked at the neckline of her robe playfully to peer down the valley of her breasts. The way he arched an eyebrow made her giggle.

She picked up the champagne bottle, drank directly from it then wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and pushed her lips against his. A groan rumbled across his chest as he fisted her hair to let her know he’d been waiting for this all night. He took the bottle from her hand, put it back on the table and cupped her face, slipping his tongue into her mouth. Before she knew it, her robe was on the floor and she was riding him. She was completely naked while he was still clothed, his trousers shoved past his bum, his massive hands guiding her hips to match the rhythm of his thrusts. They hadn’t fucked in only a day but it’d felt so long, and she was shamelessly horny. Maybe it was the romantic atmosphere. Maybe she was feeling vulnerable tonight. Maybe she just really loved him. Maybe it was all at once. For whatever reason, she needed this. They went as hard as they could until they came at the same time, shouting and shaking with the ecstasy of their release.

It took Y/N a whole minute to pull herself out of the euphoric daze when his dick grew soft and slipped out, leaving a visible dripping mess on his black trousers and the hem of his shirt. He chuckled breathlessly at the sight, his cheeks flushed, and she felt her core throb again.

“That probably won’t come out,” she cheekily commented. Before he could respond, she reached between them and dipped a finger into her pussy while he watched with his lips parted and his eyes dark. She withdrew the finger slowly, now coated with his and her juices, and slipped it into her mouth, her cheeks hollowing as she sucked and moaned his name. Harry let out a desperate “ahh” as he tossed his head back and threw an arm over his eyes. Seeing his reaction, she had to break character and dissolve into laughter.

“You’re gonna be the death of me,” he said, brushing her cheek with his thumb.

“I feel the same way,” she replied and kissed him again. “I think dinner would have to wait.”

They didn’t have enough energy for another round so Harry proposed a warm bath. Y/N joked about how this wouldn’t be possible if they were at her place, because she was too poor and stingy to take a bath after a shower.

“You’re spoiling me,” she told him while sitting between his legs in the bathtub, her back against his chest, her head on his shoulder.

“I love spoiling you,” he whispered into her ear as she relaxed her body under the warm water and closed her eyes, allowing his hands to freely roam across her chest and fondle her breasts.

“I love you spoiling me,” she said. “I love you.”

“I love you, too. You’re my whole world.” He kissed her cheek. Even though he’d been touching her everywhere since they got into this position, it was those words that pulled the trigger. Lips parted, she sat up slightly to sneak her hand between them and grab his cock, causing him to gasp. He was so hard as she started stroking him slowly, but he took her wrist and pulled her hand away.

“Bambi, I can’t again.”

She could tell he didn’t mean it. “Why not?”

“We cannot keep delaying dinner. You need to eat my spaghetti.” He flashed a smile when she tilted her head, pouting at him. “We’re only gonna stay here for five more minutes, okay?”

“Fine.” She blew out her cheeks and turned her head straight. “Will you still spoil me even when I’m old?”

“Of course,” he replied, too familiar with her random questions to wonder why she’d asked.

“What about...when we have babies? You’re gonna spoil the babies.”

Though she wasn’t looking, she could sense the startlement from his short pause. He hugged her waist and pulled her closer to his chest. “You only mention the possibility of us getting married and having kids when you’re jealous of our future kids.”

She chuckled at the remark. “I’m terrible, aren’t I?”

He shook his head and kissed her cheek once more. “No, not even close.”

Y/N had no idea what had gotten into her. She suddenly felt a weird sensation in the pit of her stomach which quickly spread all over her body. She tried to blink back the tears, but this time it was no use.

“Hey, what’s the matter?”

His question was what caused them to spill.

“I’m sorry, Harry,” she sobbed into her palm, and now that she’d started crying she couldn’t stop.

Terrified, he peered over her shoulder to look at her face, his voice brittle. “W-What is it, baby? Why...why are you crying?”

She whimpered and lifted her hands from under the water to wipe her cheeks, only to get them wetter. Harry waited patiently, his chest heaving against her back. She knew he wouldn’t pressure her into giving him an answer; he just needed to know if she was okay, or if he’d done something wrong that had made her cry. Whenever she was sad, his first guess would always be whether he’d made a mistake. He’d made several mistakes in the past, so he always tried to be careful. She loved that about him.

Steadying her breathing, she pulled herself together and rotated to sit face to face with him. He looked into her eyes, his jaw set. She could sense his anxiety as he seemed to be piecing together all the events tonight that led up to this moment to figure out what had gone wrong. She had to tell him the truth.

And so she did. She told him about her finding out about Blake and Laura, about her confronting Blake, about Blake telling her he still loved her and her turning him down, about her rushing to Laura’s flat to find the poor woman half-alive on the floor, about taking Laura to the hospital – she stopped there and skipped to her meeting him outside, because she’d promised to leave the rest for Isaac and Gemma to tell him. Of course, she’d also confessed that she’d thought he’d had something to do with Laura, which was the main reason she’d cried. She hadn’t trusted him as much as she’d wanted to.

Once she finished, he released a long exhalation, which was his way of saying ‘wow, that was a lot’. He placed his elbow on the rim of the tub and propped his head on his hand, staring distantly right through her. Her bottom lip quivered as she squeezed his other hand and brought it to her chest, lacing their fingers together.

“I’m very sorry. I’m sorry I lied to you and I’m sorry I thought it was you. If you’re mad at me, I completely understand.”

“No, kid.” He rubbed his hand over his face and shoved it into his damp curls. “It’s just...a lot to take in.”

“So you forgive me?” she cautioned.

“I wasn’t mad at you in the first place,” he laughed, probably to calm her nerves. “I can’t blame you for thinking I had something to do with it, since I’d always go out of my way to make sure you’re happy. But I promised you I wouldn’t interfere with your career anymore.”

She nodded, her brows drawn together.

“Hey, kid, it’s all right,” he said, taking her arms. “Come here.”

She got on his lap, legs wrapped around his waist, arms around his neck. “I mean,” he began, “I’m angry, but not at you. I just want to kick that kid’s arse.” She laughed between sniffles. “But of course, it’s up to you.”

“I’ll deal with him,” she said.

He cocked his head to the side to study her face. “You’ll kick his arse?”

She snorted at how hopeful he seemed. “Depends on how I feel tomorrow.”

“What about Laura?”

“I’ll talk to her tomorrow, too.”

“Okay,” was all he said before changing the subject back to spaghetti.

After dinner, Y/N stayed to clean up while Harry took their laundry to the laundry room. He’d left his phone on the counter and it kept buzzing with new texts every few seconds; those were probably from Jeff or the other people Harry worked with. He was a busy man, the kind of busy Y/N had never seen in anyone else. When they were together, he would put his phone on Do Not Disturb, but he never did when he was alone. He’d probably forgotten tonight.

She was just about to it up to silence the notifications when his phone buzzed in her hand and another text popped up.

Gemma: We’re so sorry. Please call me back as soon as you’re ready to talk.

A chill rushed down her spine and she hurriedly put down the phone and stumbled back. What did it mean? Had Gemma and Isaac already spoken to him? So he knew all this time? What hadn’t he said anything?

“Bambi, would you like this shirt or this shirt?”

Her head snapped to the side when she heard his voice from the doorway. He was holding up two of his shirts which he knew she loved to wear. She parted her lips but no word got out, and it was just enough for him to realize something was off. He squinted his eyes, confused, then the buzzing of his phone seized his attention. He stole another glance at her before marching over to the counter and peering down at the text.

“You know the truth?” she asked.

He slowly turned, put the shirts on the counter and leaned back against it, crossing his arms. The previous cheerfulness was nowhere to be found on his face as his forehead creased and his lips formed a hard line. “I ran into Isaac and Gemma outside the hospital,” he conceded, staring at his feet. “I know about Winton and Emilia, too.”

She folded her arms across her chest and began to consider him. Realization sank in, and it occurred to her that his chill attitude tonight had only been an act.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” she questioned in hushed tones as if she didn’t want him to hear it. But he did, and his eyes found hers again.

“You’d had a rough day. I didn’t want to drag you into this.” He raked his fingers through his hair and huffed. “They told me you already knew…”

Y/N had specifically told Isaac and Gemma not to tell Harry until tomorrow, but she supposed they hadn’t got a choice when they’d run into him. If they had acted like nothing had been wrong and told him tomorrow that something had been wrong, then it would only get worse.

“How are you feeling?” she inquired after a long pause.

He lifted his shoulders, looking surprisingly impassive. “I wasn’t as shocked as I thought I’d be. I guess...I always had a feeling that they had something to hide. All four of them.” He meant Isaac, Gemma, Winton, and Emilia. “I don’t really know how to feel about Isaac and Gemma. Maybe I’m mad at them because they hid it from me, but I understand why they did it. I just needed some time to...be okay with it...I guess? Winton and Emilia, however...”

It was the first time she’d heard him call his dad Winton. Her heart cracked. She couldn’t imagine what it must be for him. How had he reacted when he’d heard the news? Had he been in denial? Or had he believed it right away? Had he cried? God, she didn’t want to think about him crying. She couldn’t stand it.

Closing the distance between them, she circled her arms around his waist and he accepted her embrace as an instinct.

“I’m so sorry. People could be cruel,” she said into his shirt.

He kissed the top of her head and rested his chin on it, holding her tighter. “I don’t regret helping them. I just regret believing he’d loved me and Gem, even just a little bit.” Then he took her shoulders and pushed her away, his lips quirked into a reassuring smile. “Let’s not talk about this tonight,” he said. “I only want to focus on you.”

She gave a firm nod, grabbed his face and brought his lips down upon hers. If her kisses could make him forget about everything else, she would never stop kissing him.

Later that night, they made love again in his bed and fell asleep. It was early in the morning when she woke and found herself alone. She thought he’d gone to get some water, but as she lay and stared into the darkness, waiting and waiting, and he didn’t come back, she began to think something had gone wrong. And so she pushed herself out of bed, put on his t-shirt and padded down the hall to his library, where she assumed he might be.

There she found him, sitting in his armchair and gazing at the night sky through the floor-to-ceiling windows. The silence was strangely frightening.

“Harry?”

Her voice made him jump. His head turned and he stared at her with his eyes glossy and his face twisted. She moistened her dry lips, her stomach triple-knotted when he dropped his hand into the cradle of his arms. She sauntered across the room to take a seat on the arm of the chair so he could hug her waist and bury his face into her chest.

She held him while he cried.

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The next morning, Y/N left the house when Harry was still asleep because she had an essay exam. She thought she did an okay job. It could have been better if she hadn’t got distracted by the thoughts about last night and early this morning. Still, she was never the kind of person who kept dwelling on an exam once she’d handed it in. On her way to another class, she got a text message from Harry wishing her good luck. He’d sent it before she’d entered the exam room, but she’d put her phone on airplane mode and only received it just now. She told him she’d just finished it and that she’d call him later at lunch.

As she walked across the courtyard, a group of girls sitting in the shade pointed at her and whispered something to each other. If she was in a good mood, she’d wave at them and smile (Kill them with kindness, Harry always said). If she was feeling neutral, she’d turn a blind eye and walk straight ahead. Today, she was in a bad mood, so she stopped and called out, “Take a picture. It lasts longer.”

The girls all turned away, embarrassed and acting like they hadn’t been snickering about her just a second ago. Whatever, she thought and continued walking.

The rest of the day passed rather briskly. She attended classes with trips to and from the library in between. Last year, she would go to her favourite spot on the courtyard to write and listen to music, but since the whole world had discovered about her relationship with Harry, she couldn’t stand the thoughts of how many eyes would be assessing her when she was alone and distracted. At least people wouldn’t talk so loudly in the library, which made it easier for her to pretend nobody gave a shit about her.

On the Uber ride to the hospital, she got a text from Alice asking if she was coming back to the bookshop because Eddie missed her even though he would never admit it. She’d taken two weeks off to work on her manuscript. It sounded like a stupid thing to do – giving up on present income for unearned profit, though she believed it’d been necessary. After all, she wasn’t going to spend the rest of her life working in a bookshop. She texted Alice back that she’d be back on Monday next week. Alice responded with the dancing girl and confetti emoji.

Earlier today, Y/N had called Laura’s assistant to ask about Laura. Marie (Y/N kept forgetting her name) had said that Laura had got better and would be able to leave the hospital in two days. It was good news for Laura, and also Y/N. On one hand, she cared about Laura’s wellbeing as they were no longer just agent and client. On the other hand, Laura was still responsible for Y/N’s career, which she wouldn’t give up just because a stupid man had tried to intervene. Talented or privileged, she was getting that damn book deal.

“Y/N!” Marie’s eyes gleamed when Y/N entered the room. Laura was lying in bed wearing a hospital gown, a lazy smile stretched her chapped lips as she fixed her gaze on Y/N. Marie got up and quickly told Y/N, “Can you stay here with Miss Hilfgard? I’m going to fetch coffee for all of us.”

“I don’t drink coffee,” Y/N said, turning to Laura. “Are you...allowed to drink caffeine?”

“I don’t know. I don’t really want coffee anyway,” she said and told her assistant, “You get yourself a coffee, Marie. I’ll chat with Y/N for a bit.”

“Yes, ma’am!” Marie brightened like a happy schoolgirl and disappeared into the hallway. The door was closed, and Y/N took a seat in the chair beside the bed.

“So…” she trailed off, “How are you?”

“I’m good. Last night wasn’t the first time I’d got sent to the hospital for binge-drinking,” she confessed.

Y/N’s eyes grew wide. “Really?”

“Yeah. I was a rebel back in Uni. When I said I was a Yale student, nobody would believe me.”

Right. Laura had gone to Yale. Blake also went to Yale. Y/N felt a sudden urge to ask if that was how they knew each other in the first place, but she stopped herself at once. She must not bring up Blake to Laura ever again.

“I don’t remember everything I said to you yesterday, but I assume it was...enough...” she trailed off, her eyelids drooped as she smiled. “I don’t want you to think it would change anything between us. You and me. I still want to work with you.”

Y/N licked her lips and clenched her jaw. “Did you contact me because he told you to?”

“No, God, Y/N!” Laura cackled and patted Y/N’s knee as if she’d just told the funniest joke. “I actually refused to read your manuscript because Blake seemed so fond of you,” Laura said, sounding amused. “But then I felt like it wouldn’t be fair to turn you down without having actually read it, so I gave it a chance. And I had to contact you right away.”

Y/N breathed out a laugh as her chest expanded with relief. However, sadness suddenly clouded Laura’s features. Her voice dropped. “I’m sorry you had to see me like that. I completely understand if you don’t want to work with me anymore.”

“Are you kidding? Of course I want to continue working with you,” Y/N retorted. “I mean, you basically saved my life. Okay, it may sound a bit dramatic but...I was gonna give up on writing, but you gave me hope again. In a way, you saved my life.”

When Laura laughed, Y/N wasn’t sure if it was because she found what Y/N had said funny or she was genuinely happy to hear it. Either way, Y/N didn’t regret saying it out loud.

“Well, you literally saved my life so...we’re even?” Laura offered her hand, and Y/N reached out to shake it, but then she withdrew quickly.

“Actually, you still owe me a book deal.”

“Yes, I do.” Laura grinned, her hand still extended, waiting for Y/N’s. “I already rescheduled the meeting with the publishers. Yes, people would have to fight for your book, Y/N.”

There was something so businesslike in the way she said it. Smiling from ear to ear, Y/N took her hand and gave a firm shake. This already felt like a better beginning.

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Harry was just about to hit the indoor gym when the doorbell rang, echoing through his mansion. He hurriedly picked up his phone from the bedside table to see a couple of new texts and missed calls from Gemma and Isaac. Could it be them? Fuck. He didn’t want this attention at all. Why couldn’t they just let him cool off in peace?

Winton and Emilia would probably blow up his phone, too, if he hadn’t already blocked their numbers. He didn’t want to speak to them ever again, although it made him feel like a coward. With Gemma and Isaac, he was only avoiding them because he’d lose his mind and say something hurtful. He loved them, but this was really weird, especially when Isaac had dated Harry’s girl and Gemma had been crying about Asher not so long ago. Harry didn’t even dare to think about the possibility of his sister cheating on Asher behind Asher’s back. Not because he cared about Asher’s feelings or whatsoever. But because after all the drama between him, Y/N, Isaac, and Ruby, he knew better than anyone a love-triangle wouldn’t make anyone happy.

The doorbell sounded again when he careened downstairs, not sure if he should answer the door. What would he do if it was one of those four? Would he ask them to leave? Or would he invite them in so they could talk it out like adults? He was never good at confrontation. Y/N had constantly criticized him for it even though she was only a bit better than him. If something is bound to happen, the more you avoid it, the worse it gets, she’d said. He should probably take her advice and let whatever was going to happen happen.

Heart thumping inside his chest, he hastened to check the front door security camera, and sagged in relief when he saw Y/N waiting outside. Guess he wasn’t ready to take her advice after all.

But wait, why did she bring her suitcase? Was she in trouble? Had Blake done something to her? His speculations made his blood boil, and he hurriedly came to the door. He swung it open and was met with a giggly Y/N, who threw her arms around his neck and kissed him twice on the cheek.

“Sorry I forgot my key,” she said and wiped her lip gloss off his face with her thumb

“Are you going somewhere?” He nodded his head toward her pink suitcase. When her smile dropped, he feared he’d said something wrong.

“Here, Harry.” She aggressively pointed a finger to her feet. “I’m going here.”

Bemused, he arched an eyebrow. She mimicked his reaction, and they ended up having a staring contest right at his front door. As always, she was the first to give in.

“I’m moving in with you.”

“What?” His jaw fell slack as he blinked rapidly. “Are you...sure? What...what made you change your mind?”

Half of him was over the moon for how serious she looked when she said it. The other half of him was afraid she’d only made this decision just so she could avoid Blake like he’d been doing with Gemma and Isaac. If they were his neighbour, he would probably just move to a different house. Y/N didn’t have a house in every city, so he guessed his place was one of her few options.

“If you think I’m doing this because of Blake, I’ll be very disappointed.”

He swallowed hard, shaking his head. He should have known she could sometimes read his mind. “N-No...that’s not–”

“And I’m not doing this for you, either,” she interrupted, her forehead creased and her eyes piercing at him. At this point, he was very confused and nervous; the suspense was killing him.

“I’m doing this because of me,” she said at last. “The reason I was hesitant to give you an answer was because I was uncertain about myself. I didn’t want to be dependent on you, and I was afraid that if we ever...broke up, I’d be disoriented and have nowhere to go. But I’ve learned a few things about trust, which made me realize that it was okay to need someone sometimes. You’re the only person I want to be with today, tomorrow, and for the rest of my life so...I want to try this with you. I’m not gonna–I’m not gonna leave my flat but...I would like to have...a drawer at your place...And we could, you know, try to see where this–”

He didn’t let her finish. He couldn’t. He lurched forward, grabbed her face and pressed his lips against hers. She let out a startled gasp but immediately returned the action. They kissed as if their lives depended on it. If they were in public, people would be hollering and whistling like one of those scenes in rom-coms which made Y/N cringe every time. When they broke apart, they’d smeared her lip gloss, but from the beam on her face, Harry knew she was too happy to care.

“That was rude. You interrupted me,” she whispered, hands in his hair as their forehead glued together.

“Sorry.” He held her hips and pecked the corner of her mouth. “Did you write that speech before coming here?”

“I did,” she sounded serious because he seriously believed she had written it down. As mentioned before, Y/N wasn’t good at confrontation, either. It was easier for her to express her thoughts through written words.

“Are you gonna carry my luggage to your room or what?” she asked and suddenly covered her mouth as if she’d said something offensive. He squinted his eyes, looking at her funny. “I should start calling it our room, right?”

His shoulders rounded as he exhaled. Beaming, he ruffled her hair and picked up her suitcase. “Let’s go to our room before I fuck you on our doorsteps.”

“Hmm. That should be our new tradition. Welcome home fuck on the doorsteps.” She flipped her hair over her shoulder and winked extravagantly at him before strutting inside. He felt his smile grow so big it took over his entire face.

[inkribbon796]

Like a House of Cards Ch. 1: Showtime

Summary: Four heroes have been replaced and their intentions are less than pure. The city is dangling on a knife’s edge over a precipice. Dominoes knocked over as the city tumbles like a house of cards.

Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13

It was a long time coming. A long time coming.

It was early, almost sunrise when Logan and Ethan walked into the base. The door opening like the curtains of a show for them. It was early, the only people who saw them walking in who weren’t already gone on the early patrol were Chase and J.J.

So needless to say, they weren’t in danger of getting caught.

Because the four of them weren’t who they were pretending to be. They were the Suits, sent to replace and impersonate certain heroes they were similar to.

Hearts, Diamonds, Spades, and Clubs. Disguised as heroes meant to protect and save people.

Logan and Ethan walked in, Logan casting a glance to the hidden camera he knew for a certainty was in the entry hall, his pupils displaying with robotic precision and aura tapping against the barriers Marvin and Nate had long since set up as a defense, but since Mare and Lunky had passed by the sensors so many times it didn’t trip an alarm.

Chase and J.J watched them from the communications room, not altering the cameras so that Bing wasn’t tipped off. He’d been conducting his private investigations recently and none of them wanted to tip him off while he was so suspicious of all of them. Since talking to Joan, the android had cleared those in Dark’s family, and Jackie but that was it.

Ethan went into the kitchen to make some coffee as Logan relieved Chase and J.J from the watch and slid into the seat where he performed the duties that the real Logan was supposed to do. This close to their mission point precision was crucial, and any time wasted fighting Bing was a detrimental loss.

Logan was sitting in the communications room, working at one of the computers, when Ethan brought him a coffee. The room was empty except for him.

Ethan walked in, sipping on his coffee, smiling as he set one down for Logan, “So, how’s it going?”

“Without incident,” Logan answered. “You should get to bed, get ready for the next mission?”

“Geez, Sargent Frowns, it’ll all be taken care of,” Ethan took another sip. “Bastards won’t know what hit them.”

Ethan chuckled as he took a couple sips of his coffee, “Well if you don’t mind me I’ll just “go to bed” or whatever.”

Logan nodded and as Ethan was leaving the room, Joan was coming up the hallway.

“You seen any of the Sides recently?” Joan asked Ethan, looking worried.

“Yeah,” Ethan pointed to the door, “Logan’s in the comms room.”

“Is Patton in there with him?” Joan looked a little bit relieved.

“I saw him while I was out on patrol,” Ethan lied to them. “Why? Is something wrong?”

“Get everyone in the base together, we’ve got a security problem,” Joan explained.

“Got it,” Ethan hurried away as Joan walked into the comma room.

“Fucker’s gonna get us caught,” Ethan muttered angrily under his breath, tipping back the rest of his coffee.

Bing and Jackie joined Joan in the comms room with “Logan” and they started talking about another sighting of Spade in downtown Brighton and they wanted to compile information.

Something that was eyebrow raising to Spade because he’d been making his way from Janus and Remus’s house to the heroes’ base. But the real Logan wouldn’t be privy to that information so Spade, pretending to be Logan, did a pretty good impression of being surprised as he exchanged places with Bing so the android could take a seat in front of the computer.

“An’[1] that’s the report,” Jackie concluded.

“It certainly is good information to have if they’re becoming more active again,” Logan told them.

“My thoughts exactly,” Bing pointed some finger guns at Logan. “Here, I’ll get some images I got of the guy.”

“Hey Logan,” Joan smiled at him as Bing was integrating himself with the computer to look for something. “How have things been?”

“They could certainly be improved upon,” Logan commented, turning towards Joan and letting out a long, tired sigh.

“Yeah, I bet they could,” Joan agreed before a blast of magic hit Logan square in the back. Pain rocketed up the Suit’s body and his nanites glitched as Joan and Jackie threw down a disc on either side and Bing’s nanites came up and wrapped around Logan so that when the Suit stopped feeling like he was being used as a live wire, he was trapped.

When Logan turned his head he saw that Marvin was standing at the door, magic at his fingertips. The Suit was literally and figuratively surrounded. His eyes and glasses glitched, “Something always gets in the way.”

“He’s covered in nanites,” Bing warned.

“My spell should have ripped his illusion off,” Marvin told them. “I can hit him again.”

Logan looked down at the nanite constructed wires and cords trapping him and rolled his eyes, then he looked up at Joan, “Do you mind telling me what gave me away, for data correlation’s sake?”

Joan held up their phone, “Morality doesn’t use punctuation when he types, he barely uses words at all.”

“Ahh,” Logan commented cooly, smiling. “My mistake. I always tend to forget his atrocious insistence against punctuation is the only awful part of him.”

“Where’s Logic?” Jackie demanded. “Why are yeh here? Are yeh Spade or some demon? ‘Cause this is a shite time ta do this.”[2]

“Now why would I tell any of you,” Logan threatened.

“Yeh can tell us or we’ll beat the shite outta yah,”[3] Jackie threatened right back. “Logic’s been through enough shite lately ta e’en tolerate this.”[4]

“Oh trust me,” “Logan” frowned. “He hasn’t even begun to suffer.”

“An’[1] why should we trust yeh[5]?” Jackie demanded. “What’d yah do ta the real Logic?”[6]

The false Logan let out an amused chuckle, “You all have never even met the real Logan. I’m doing all of you a favor.”

“It’s Spade, fry ‘em[7],” Joan decided.

The snare lit up and electricity began coursing through the Suit’s nanite body, frying his nanite shell by inches.

Locket Payload: Critical Failure Imminent!

In a panic, that was visible on his face, Logan let out a scream as he curled around his chest and an EMP blast came from him that fried almost every electronic in the room, Bing only managing to not have to reset himself. By the time Bing was recovering, he was able to watch with the other three organic beings in the room as “Logan” burst into pixels and a cloud of nanites and shot into the light switch to hide. The young glitch demon curled around a central point of aura protectively in case Bing came after him.

Those precious seconds of hiding let Bing force the controls back on line and initiate a complete physical and electrical lockdown of the base. People, texts, calls, all unable to leave the base.

“Emergency lockdown engaged,” Bing’s voice rang out through the base just as an explosion rocked the building.

It was a small explosive charge that had been placed by Hearts, not enough to blow a hole in the side of the base but enough for the contents of the bomb to set the room on fire.

To set Marvin’s library on fire.

To Marvin’s good luck, Wade was close by and saw the fire starting up as magical tomes and spell ingredients, turning a normal fire into a popping magical one that was threatening to burn the entire base down.

The fire alarm and the sprinkles kicked up, causing further damage to the books.

Wade swore as he tried putting out the magical fire.

At the sound of the explosion, Marvin and Jackie raced over and Marvin screamed in agony as he helped put out the fire. Nate racing in to help. J.J, Chase, and Ethan came over to help but were pushed back by the others.

It took another minute to get the fire contained and Marvin was kneeling in front of the doorway to his library and looking at the ash and burnt books in horror.

“Sorry, Marv,” Jackie sat down next to his friend.

“They burned my library down,” Marvin said in grief.

“What is going on?” Wade demanded. “Last I heard there was some kind of meeting but when met with Crank, Nate, Average, and J.J the fire alarm went off. Who called the meeting?”

“We did,” Jackie told him, standing up. “It was just bad fookin’ timin’. Spade’s in the base, he got in. It must’a been him who caused the explosions.”[8]

“It’s not Spade,” Bing shouted as he ran down the halls, his nanites still fixing up the patches of metal and wires that had died in the EMP blast. “Or if it is the situation just got much worse ‘cause[9] that’s Logic.”

“What do you mean that’s Logic?” Joan demanded in a panic.

“Either Logic’s been Spade the whole time or Spade infected him with somethin’ ‘cause he’s been actin’ weird for a while,”[10] Bing said. “Lo’s still in the base. I’ve got him cornered in the sprinkler system, but he won’t stay there.”

“How could it possibly be Logan?” Joan demanded in irritated frustration. “He would never.”

“We might not be dealing with the actual Logan,” Nate spoke up, his mind already racing with possibilities. “We might be dealing with the same guy who attack me outside of a bar over a camera of all fucking things.”

“That was his suit right, Logic’s fine,” Joan defended.

Then Nate thought about that, it had been a question that Logan had always been dodgy and evasive on how the logical and scientific hero had wound up with a cursed soul splitter that didn’t work . . .

“Either way he’s got my nanites,” Bing interrupted. “Which explains how Spade got them in the first place. His suit is laced with them.”

“Are yeh[5] sure?” Jackie demanded.

“I’d recognize them anywhere, my Bluetooth was even tryin’[11] ta[12] connect with them,” Bing asserted.

. . . That didn’t . . . Nate was still trying to reason in his head.

“Which is weird because humans can’t use nanites raw,” Bing replied. “Only the Googles an’[1] Anti have the ability ta[12] use my nanites like that.”

“Shit, he’s a glitch!” Mare warned internally. “A damn smart one since he was covering his tracks as he was turning. I knew something smelt off about him. He always smelt like burnt wires and electricity.”

You tell me this now? Nate cursed himself for not realizing it sooner. While Nate was thinking the rest of the heroes were talking.

Nate felt the eye roll, “I always forget you sacks of meat can’t smell aura. I just figured, since he was supposed to be a null, that some other demon or one of the other Sides had their claws in him. The rest of them are dripping with aura.”

“Joan,” Nate spoke up, his voice soft and almost scared.

“Yeah?” Joan sat up.

“How long has Logic been Logic?” Nate asked desperately.

“Always, what kind of question is that?” They asked in return.

“I just have to rule it out, does Logic come from a family of mages? Is anyone else in his family magical.”

Joan paused for an abnormally long amount of time. “No.”

“Okay, that makes sense, being null is recessive,” Nate reasoned. You needed and aura and magic for a soul to become a demon. Logic didn’t have that, ergo he wasn’t a demon.

“Nate,” Mare tried to urge.

“He only targeted Marvin, nothing was stolen, nothing was taken from the computers, he just impersonated him and took off,” Wade reminded.

“The Sides are still gone, what are we gonna do?” Jackie demanded.

“Well when we find him, we’ll ask,” Joan reassured. “Logic’s a level-headed guy, I wish I knew where Morality was, or Princey. They’re able to calm him down.”

“Nate, let me go, and I can scent Logic out, if I don’t find him, then I’m wrong and he’s clear,” Mare tried to bargain.

“Fine,” Nate agreed and Mare broke free and looked around.

“Great,” Marvin growled.

“I’ll be back soon,” Mare didn’t spare Marvin a glance, “sorry about your cache.”

Then Mare stopped and looked at a corner of the wall and floated up to tap at it. “Hey there, don’t think I don’t see you.”

Then he ripped a camera out of the wall.

“Mine are visible,” Bing told him as the demon tossed the camera to the android.

Mare stood next to Nate, “I know, bet you that there are more, and there’s a glitch in the walls. Probably has been for a while now.”

“Is it Anti?” Jackie asked.

“Nah, Anti smells like a thunderstorm that was cooked in the oven too long,” Mare reported. “Young, likes to identify as a male; so King’s kid is out. It’s Logic, I’ve picked up that scent on him before. Maybe it’s a Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde thing, or Logic’s always been a spy. Can’t say.”

“Maybe that soul splitter did work after all,” Nate reasoned. “Which means that he’s not wanting to come out ‘cause[9] he’s scared, so I can’t blame him. Just where’d he find the camera? That probably turned him, which makes sense why he likes to hover around the thing, he probably wants the fragments of his soul back.”

“First off, morbid,” Joan held up one of their hands. “And second, I found it at an estate sale. I gave it to Thomas, who—”

Joan trailed off, already knowing they’d made a mistake.

Nate stared at him, “Logic’s name is Logan, who’s Thomas? Is that Princey or Anxiety?”

“Not exactly,” Joan tried to evade.

“What does that mean? Is Logan like a middle name or a name he just prefers more?” Mare asked. “Or was Thomas, Logic’s name before he was split?”

Joan really didn’t want to have this discussion without any of the Sides, but Logan was apparently hiding in the walls and the other Sides were all missing. So maybe this was as good a time as any. “Look, if you’re right and Lo is some kind of demon, which he’s not because Logic is a harmless sweetheart, then we didn’t know because a soul splitter is only supposed to make one demon right?”

The room descended into chilling silence.

“The fook yeh mean one, Logic got like a twin or somethin’?”[13] Marvin demanded.

“More like septuplets,” Joan admitted, holding up seven fingers.

“Oh shit,” Mare realized.

“They all came from the same person?” Nate gasped. Logic. Morality. Creativity. Deceit. Anxiety . . . A glitch. Two showmen. Two empaths. A deal maker. And whatever the hell Orange is.

“I’ve never seen a spilt this clean, or create so many, usually a splitter just makes one and it can’t even do that right,” Nate commented. “But they’re all so lifelike. How powerful of a mage was Thomas?”

“He wasn’t,” Joan tried to explain. “Or at least, I never saw him do anything.”

“Well, at least we know where the other Sides went,” Mare spat through clenched teeth.

“No, no,” Nate cut him off. “That’s not a fight a glitch can win, not on their own. We should just focus on finding Logic and containing him before we accuse him of anything.”

“Yeah, that’s a good idea,” Joan agreed.

The heroes and Mare began completely cleaning the room of any cameras or listening devices, whether they were Bing’s or not. Then they made a plan to ensnare Logan. They started by taking out the cameras and bugs in the major room before Bing began actively trying to catch Logan.

It was an endeavor that Bing was not successful in. But the Suit saw an opening and went for the unlocked front door.

When he did, Logan slammed into an invisible barrier, sparks and magic arcing everywhere.

Nate quickly moved in to seal off the containment circle with more salt as Logan was picking himself up.

“Hey, Lo,” Nate knelt down, “rough week?”

~~~~~~~~~~~

Accessibility Translations

1. And

2. Why are you here? Are you Spade or some demon? Because this is a shit time to do this.

3. You can tell us or we’ll beat the shit out of you

4. Logic’s been through enough shit lately to even tolerate this.

5. you

6. What did you do to the real Logic?

7. them

8. It was just bad fucking timing. Spade’s in the base, he got in. It must have been him who caused the explosion.

9. because

10. Either Logic’s been Spade the whole time or Spade infected him with something because he’s been acting weird for a while

11. trying

12. to

13. The fuck you mean one, does Logic have like a twin or something?

[minli-daughter-of-wukong]

Cole walked into his room and sighed. He didn’t feel like hanging out with the others today. He felt like breaking something. He had tried to explain to Jay earlier that he wasn’t in the best of moods and Jay just cut him off and started talking to Kai, so he tried to start over and kept repeating himself until finally he got tired of trying and had went to his room. He felt like it was the day of departed all over again. No one even realized he was there anymore unless he was missing, it was miserable. So he retreated to his room to grab his mountain climbing gear when Jay walked in.

“Hey man,” Jay started, “sorry for interrupting you back there, I just had to tell Kai something.”

Cole took a deep breath to try not to say anything he’d regret and shrugged “it’s whatever, it obviously wasn’t important.”

Jay looked kind of annoyed, “okay? I’m gonna pretend like I didn’t hear that in the attitude you gave and I’m gonna go about my day.”

Cole didn’t even turn around when Jay walked out and when he realized he was gripping the clip to keep him strapped too tightly, he let it go and sighed as it was now a ball of metal. He didn’t even realize how much anger he was harboring but he couldn’t bring it up to the others. They would all feel like he was being petty or dramatic. So he grabbed his things for climbing and walked out of the monastery.

~a week later~

Cole walked in from a long battle with the others and looked exhausted. He was heading to his room when Kai bumped into him and he tensed up. Kai was laughing when he apologized but Cole didn’t say anything. Kai stopped laughing and looked at Cole in confusion and worry.

“you okay dude?” Kai asked and Cole took a deep breath. Then he turned around with a smile on his face and nodded.

“Yep,” Cole said and it sounded like he was straining the smile.

Kai didn’t notice and shrugged as he walked with Jay to Kai’s room

Cole was left standing there with a fake smile as he walked to his room. When he got in and tried to calm himself to try and keep his powers under control, ever since he had started letting things get to him his control had been slipping, and it was becoming more evident in each battle they went into. Just today he almost crushed Jay under a boulder just because Jay said a joke and it wasn’t the time for it. Cole was trying not to cry and trying not to explode on anyone but it was getting harder to keep calm and just ignore everything that was making him mad. But he just kept his feelings deep down and calmed himself as he went out to keep up the charade that he was fine.

~a few days later~

Cole landed on the mountain and ran to his cave, he was crying, and shaking and anything else you could imagine a person who was guilty of hurting someone would be doing. He had really done it this time. Jay had made a joke about Cole’s hair and his weight and not to mention his hygiene. Cole didn’t mean for it to happen. He didn’t even know what he had done until his vision stopped being red. He didn’t mean for Jay to be the victim of his anger but Jay should have known how Cole was feeling in the first place, they all should have.  Right? He thought he was throwing them every bone he could and they were just being oblivious. Or they were just ignoring him? He couldn’t have been the one to not be showing them how he felt. But Now Jay is in the ICU of Ninjago Medical and no one knows if he’s gonna wake up from this comma. Cole couldn’t stand there and see all of those scared faces that were now permanently etched into his face from his friends. Cole made a big mistake and he couldn’t take it back. He hurt his best friend. Over some stupid jokes. He punched Jay so hard in the face that me might have something permanantlu wrong with him for the rest of his life and Cole couldn’t do anything to fix it, no apology was going to fix this and now he had to pay the price for not telling his friends how he felt at first. He just wanted to jump off the mountain and never come back. But he knew that was the easy way out, the easy way to not be responsible anymore. So he sat there in his cave and he didn’t know when he’d come out.

[cloudykaii]

Matter

pairing: jung hoseok x sister!reader [PLATONIC]

summary:  Hello, can I request a brother!hoseok imagine where like once bts rly took off he starts ignoring his little sister (reader) and the other boys gradually do as well so she tries to contact them and they hint that she’s annoying and they don’t want to see her... (if ur comfortable), reader going through depression and maybe self harming I know it’s hard but maybe fluffy ending ? Sorry this request is so loaded LOL

warnings: mentions of regrets, cursing, overuse of commas, neglect, bad brothers

The worst part of it all, is that at first you thought he would never do something like that. Not Hoseok, your older brother and you looked up to your entire life. You just didn’t think he had it in him. After he watched over you,and protected you for years growing up. you never actually thought that your brother and best friend would be the one to do something like this. 

Your friends saw it coming, which somehow made it worse. Every time you’d call him only to get his voicemail, or your texts would get left on read for weeks, and when he finally did answer, he’d give you generic replies. Every time your friends would say he forgot about you, but you would defend him saying he was busy, and even if he wasn’t the boys were like a family to him, so he was probably just relaxing with them. You defended him every time. 

But now you were wondering if it was ever worth it. Your friends had tried to tell you to stop trying to get in touch with you brother, because it only ever ended up with you being sad and him having the time of his life across the globe. You didn’t contact him this time, though. You thought he had called you. When the phone rang, and Hoseok’s name flashed across the screen, you answered immediately. “Hobi, you finally-”

But the sounds you got in return were less than desired. 

“Why do you look so upset? Y/N’s not calling you again, is she?”

You weren’t able to recognize who the muffled voice belonged to, but you heard the words enough. Did you really bother him that much? You heard chuckles on the other end of the line. 

“No, I told her last night I didn’t have time to talk to her. She didn’t need to know that it was because she gets on my nerves.”

You heard more laughs, bringing tears to your eyes. All you had wanted to do was talk to your brother. It wasn’t like you had unrealistic expectations. Did you? Were you really in the wrong for wanting to have a conversation with your brother?

“Well, that’s for sure. It’s like every time you sit down, her name is on the screen. Doesn’t she know when to stop?”

Your friend gently took the phone from your hand, which was good because you didn’t think you would be able to hear any more. “You’re a fucking asshole, Jung Hoseok,” you heard her hiss into the phone just before hanging up. She tossed the phone onto your bed, and looked at you with sympathy. 

“Oh, honey,” she pulled you into her arms, sitting on your bed beside you so she could comfort you. “He’s an asshole.”

“He’s supposed to be my older brother,” you whispered. “I just wanted to talk to him. He used to be there for everything, like I’m there for him. Why is it that now that he’s famous, he’s a whole new person?”

Your friend winced. She had a decently healthy relationship with her family; she had no idea what she should do. “I don’t know, Y/N,” she tried to soothe you as you started crying.

Your brother on the other hand, found himself waking up to sharp knocking on his door. “I’m coming,” he called sleepily, rubbing his eyes as he crawled out from under the blankets and made his way to his front door. “Dawon? What are you doing here?”

His older sister stormed past him inside his apartment, and turned to face him with the harshest glare he’d ever seen. “What is the matter with you? Genuinely, what the hell is wrong with you?”

He frowned. “Nothing, I’m fine.”

Dawon crossed her arms. “Knowing that you made your baby sister think she wasn’t good enough doesn’t affect you at all? You’re fine knowing what you did?”

Hoseok frowned. “What are you talking about? I didn’t do anything to Y/N.”

The laugh that left her was sarcastic. “You are honestly such an asshole. You ignored her for weeks, and then you had the nerve to call her annoying?! I went to go check on her this morning because I hadn’t heard from her in a couple days, and she’s been so stressed out with college, I was worried she hadn’t been eating again. I bet you didn’t even know that happened the first time, did you? Probably not, since Y/N didn’t even know you were in the country. Guess what I found when I got there? I was greeted by her roommate telling me Y/N had cried herself to sleep because you accidentally called her and she had to hear exactly what you think of her.”

His eyes widened. “No, wait, it’s not what it-”

His sister glowered at him. “She has been defending you this entire time. You will talk to me, or anyone else, but Y/N, and she hasn’t said a bad thing about you, yet. She looked up to you for years, and for some reason she still does. She thinks she’s a bad sister, and blocked you so that she couldn’t be a distraction to you, anymore. I have never seen my sister like this,” her voice broke, and Hoseok felt like the worst person in the world. “Fix this,” she pointed at him. “Fix this before we lose our sister.”

And then she left, slamming his door, and leaving her brother to stare at the ground and wonder just what the hell he had done. He didn’t know you had been overwhelmed by college. Had it really been that long since he had had an actual conversation with you? God, he fucked up. 

He had no idea how he was supposed to fix this, but he still found himself knocking on your door, and hoping he had the right place. He didn’t even know where you lived...

You opened the door, frowning, but you gasped when you saw him standing there. You grabbed his forearm and yanked him inside. “What are you doing here? You guys just released statements about fans following you and you show up at a college unannounced? What is the matter with you?”

Somehow, those words hurt more when they came from a place of caring within you. He grimaced as he shut the door. “Y/N, we need to talk.”

You chewed your lower lip. “If this is about what I heard the other day, don’t worry about it. i get it. You were probably stressed or something.”

You still managed to defend him, and the smile on your face broke his heart. “I wasn’t exactly busy..”

You brushed it off. “It’s cool. I shouldn’t be trying to talk to you so often. That’s got to be distracting. Don’t worry about it, I understand.”

Your brother ran a hand through his hair. “No, Y/N, that’s not it! I’m not too busy to talk to you, I’m just an asshole!”

“You’re not-”

“But I am,” he finally exploded. “I’m the worst brother in the world, and you’re easily the best sister, and I don’t deserve to have you as mine. I didn’t even know where you lived! I didn’t know that you got accepted to college! I promised that nothing would change, and I would always be there for you, even when we got big, and I didn’t keep that promise and I’m sorry.”

You weren’t quite sure what to say as you wiped your face. When did you even start crying? “Hoseok, it’s okay. I’m fine.”

“This time,” he muttered, still looking right at you, “But there won’t be a next time. I don’t know how many times you called me because you needed your brother, but I’ll be here now,” he said, nodding his head as if it helped make his statement final. 

You couldn’t help but shake your head. “That sounds great, but I heard what you said. You don’t actually want that.”

It was his turn to shake his head as he violently disagreed with you. “No. You’re not annoying and you don’t get on my nerves, Y/N. I was just being an idiot. I promise, I’ll be your big brother again. I don’t want to lose my sister because I made a mistake.”

You sighed, moving closer to hug him. “You won’t. But I can’t keep getting updates about you on twitter because you won’t answer my texts.”

He reassured you once again that he would be a better brother, and you smiled. This was all you wanted, just your older brother back. Now that you had him, it felt like nothing could go wrong.

“Okay, so tell me what all I’ve missed out on.”

“So there’s this one bitch in my class...”

[ladylillianrose]

Sorry, I Was Staring At Your Coconuts a Max Richman/Zoey Clarke Fanfiction

Summary: Things heat up at the SPRQ Point Summer Luau!

A/N: Yay Summer Gift Exchange!! The prompt I chose was "If you think I’m going to talk to you while you're dressed like that, you're wrong." GHOST_IN_A_GIRLS_BODY I hope you enjoy this bit of humorous fluff for our favorite couple!

As always a huge thank you to my beta AubreyRichman, without whom there would be significantly fewer commas!

Oh, and the song used is "Kiss the Girl" from The Little Mermaid (Watch here https://youtu.be/TrRbB-qUJfY) y'all can thank TheAuthor44 for getting it stuck in my head and therefore working its way into the fic!

AO3

Zoey got out of the car and glanced at Danny Michael Davis' large beach house. It sounded like the party was in full swing already if the loud music and number of cars parked in the driveway were any indication. She reached the door just as it was flung open to reveal Tobin wearing one of the most garish Hawaiian shirts she had ever seen and….was that a hula skirt?

"Yo, Z Dog! You made it!" Tobin gestured for her to follow him inside. 

Zoey nodded at his attire, "Nice outfit."

Tobin grinned, "Hey, just getting into the luau spirit. Speaking of," he grabbed a lei from a nearby table and put it over her head. "Hmmm still missing something…." He snapped his fingers, "Got it!" He plucked a hibiscus flower from a vase and placed it behind her ear. "Now you're ready to party!"

Zoey chuckled, Tobin's enthusiasm was infectious. "Have you seen Max around?" she asked, as they walked further into the house.

"He was hanging out by the bar outside, last time I saw him."

She nodded her thanks and headed towards the backyard. It seemed like outside was where most everyone had congregated. She nodded in greeting as she recognized a few people from around the office. She walked over to the bar but didn't see Max anywhere nearby. 

"What can I get you?" the bartender asked.

"She'll have a pina colada. Oh and make sure it gets one of those little umbrella thingies," a voice said from behind her. Zoey glanced over her shoulder to see Max.

"I was wondering where you were," Zoey nodded her thanks as the bartender handed her the drink, little umbrella, and all.

She turned to fully face Max and nearly choked on her drink. "What on earth are you wearing?!"

Max was dressed in a grass skirt over his swim trunks, a coconut bra sans shirt, and a flower crown perched on his head.

"If you think I’m going to talk to you while you're dressed like that, you're wrong," Zoey laughed as she took another drink.

"It's the flower crown, isn't it? I thought it might be a tad too much," he admitted.

Zoey snorted, "Yeah Max, the flower crown is what tips it over the edge."

"Well, I know it's not the rest of the outfit cause I am rocking it!" Max exclaimed.

Zoey felt her gaze slide down to his chest, distracted by the muscles she saw behind the coconuts. She had to admit Max did look rather hot…. Wait what?  Shut up brain!

"Um, Zo, you okay?"

"Huh? Sorry, I was staring at your....coconuts...." Zoey turned bright red and quickly downed the rest of her drink. What is wrong with you? That's it, no more pina coladas for you!

Max laughed, "Come on, let's go check out the bonfire." He grabbed her hand and eagerly pulled Zoey towards the beach.

"Oh cause alcohol and fire are always a great combination, " Zoey mumbled as she followed him.

________________________________________________________________

Zoey had to admit she was having more fun than she had expected. Though most of that was due to the man next to her who was tipsily attempting to fix his  coconut bra that had somehow gotten untied.

"Zoey….help…." Max pouted. Shaking her head she moved behind him and tied the strings for him.

"All good?" he turned around and she saw that it was slightly askew. Without thinking she reached out to fix it, her fingers brushing along his chest as she did. His breath hitched as her fingers stilled. She swallowed, resisting the urge to run her hands along the rest of his chest.

Clearing her throat, she stepped back slightly, "All good." Her fingers still tingled from the heat of his bare skin against hers.

Max opened his mouth to respond when they were interrupted by Tobin.

"There you guys are!"

"You were looking for us?" Zoey raised her eyebrows at him.

"Obviously! We're all taking team pictures at the photo booth. Joan said something about proving to Ava that she has the better team," he shrugged.

"And somehow a picture is going to prove that?" she asked.

"Dude, don't ask me, I'm just following orders."

Zoey looked at Max and they both shrugged, Joan could be a puzzle sometimes. They followed Tobin back towards the house.

"Found the lovebirds," he loudly announced.

Zoey and Max flushed and glared at him.

"Okay, let's get this over with people. And remember we're having fun, so everyone had better smile. Glenn, I'm looking at you, don't screw this up," Joan ordered.

After a few tries, they managed to get enough decent shots to please Joan.

"Alright people, go back to whatever it was you were doing before," she dismissed them with a wave and they all quickly scattered. 

"We should take some pictures," Max suggested with a grin.

Zoey laughed, "Sure, why not. I'm sure Mom will get a kick out of them."

They did a few silly poses, laughing the whole time as they each tried to look more ridiculous than the other.

"Okay, now just one serious one," Max said, his eyes shining with laughter.

Zoey nodded and moved to stand next to him.

"Wait," Max said, turning her towards him. He reached to adjust her flower that had come loose with their antics. Zoey held her breath as she felt his fingers lightly brushed through her hair. She unconsciously leaned her body towards him as her eyes fluttered closed.

The flash of the camera went off, shattering the moment. Zoey quickly opened her eyes and moved to where their photos were printing. She felt Max come up behind her. "I hope they don't turn out blurry….I hate when they are blurry or my eyes are closed….then it just seems like a waste of a picture…" she nervously rambled, trying to distract herself from how close she had come to almost kissing Max.

"Zoey…" Max started.

"Oh look, they're done!" she grabbed the prints over eagerly.

Her eyes drifted to the last picture, afraid of what she might see. If a picture was usually worth a thousand words this was worth at least ten thousand. Picture Zoey had her eyes closed and was leaning towards Max, who's hand was hovering next to her cheek as he too leaned forward.

Her eyes darted to his and back to the photo.  Had he also wanted to kiss her?

"Max, I…."

She was interrupted as Tobin began loudly singing to them.

Sha-la-la-la-la-la

Don’t be scared

You got the mood prepared

Go on and kiss the girl

Sha-la-la-la-la-la

A few people turned to stare at Tobin as he sang to the couple.

Don’t stop now

Don’t try to hide it how

You wanna kiss the girl

Sha-la-la-la-la-la

Float along

Listen to the song

The song say kiss the girl

Sha-la-la-la-la-la

Music play

Do what the music say

You wanna kiss the girl

You’ve got to kiss the girl

Why don’t you kiss the girl

You gotta kiss the girl

Go on and kiss the girl

Zoey glared at him and started to walk towards him when Max pulled her into his arms capturing her lips in a kiss.

All thoughts of anger disappeared as she lost herself in the feel of Max's lips against hers.

They broke apart panting heavily, as Tobin and everyone nearby began cheering.

Zoey rolled her eyes, "How about we take this somewhere without an audience?"

Max grinned and nodded. "Oh wait," he reached to take off the grass skirt when Zoey's hand stopped him. 

"Bring it with us," she murmured.

Max chuckled, "And you said you wouldn't talk to me while I was wearing this."

Zoey's eyes gleamed wickedly, "Who said  anything  about talking?"

[schrijverr]

Behind the Scenes

This is a story that developed from a small peek into my brain whenever I write the stories you read into a thinkpiece about writing and posting fanfiction. 

On AO3.

Ships: none (unless you wanna ship me with my keyboard lol)

Warnings: none, I suppose, but it does get a little down in the end, I was having a rough day when I wrote this, sorry.

~~~~~~~~~~

I sit on my chair before my laptop. I’m curled into myself as my fingers glide over the keyboard and my thoughts flow out of my fingertips onto the screen.

It isn’t all that late, just past midnight, but it’s already dark outside and in order to see the keys properly I have to turn on the lamp I have on my desk. With the light it’s kind of cozy here in my little nook of the world.

I look to the screen and try to make sense of my own words. I don’t have a fully fledged idea yet, but a vague idea that floated through my brain at some point during the day has inspired me enough to open a new document and start typing.

I now know how this story begins and I see where I am going and how it will end, but the question of how I get there sits heavily on my mind.

I stop typing for a moment and think. If I introduce this character now, it might set some other things in motion and that’ll be good for the plot, but I don’t know how to write that character at all and I’m afraid that if I do it wrong, people won’t like me or my story.

I sigh and realize I’ve started almost every new paragraph with the same word. I hate it when I do that. The story starts to feel repetitive and as a non native English speaker I want to prove that I have a bigger vocabulary than that.

How to proceed?

A synonym, maybe? But I’ll have to look that up and I don’t think there is a good synonym for I. Sighing again I scan the page and think. Maybe I could start with a verb to shake things up a bit or a question. No, not a question that would feel out of place here.

Now I’ve written a few paragraphs again, so I could use the word I used before, but since I used it so many times already I want a bit more space between now and the next time I use it. So a synonym it is, I guess, I think as I open my browser to look one up.

…

There is no synonym for I.

Goddammit, I think. Well, it’s no use now anyway. I’ve decided to write this story in the first person, despite knowing I’m horrible at it, and now I have to deal with the fact that I don’t have another word for I.

I start my next paragr- no that’s not right. Backspace, backspace. Moving on to the next- No, not that either. Backspace, backspace. I look at what I’ve written last and wonder why I’ve written something upon which I can’t, hmm, what’s a good word there?

I know I have a good word in Dutch ‘voortborduren’, but when I translate it, it gives me elaborate, which doesn’t fit in the sentence at all. Mentally groaning I recline in my chair as I try to think.

Maybe it’s the sentence itself? Lets see what did I write again? Oh yeah: I look at what I’ve written last and wonder why I’ve written something upon which I can’t- and then I need to find a word. Hm, funny, I don’t know how to go on by the sentence about not knowing how to go on.

‘I look at what I’ve written last and wonder why I’ve written something upon which I can’t’, I whisper it to myself in the hope the right word comes to mind.

First there is nothing, but then! Expand! Not perfect, but it fits, which is good enough for now, maybe when I proof read it a better word will come to me and I can use that.

So, expand. I wonder why I wrote something I can’t expand upon.

Fuck, I’ve spend so much time finding the right word that I have forgotten what I was talking, well writing, about in the first place. Softly swearing under my breath I scroll up and read what came before the sentence with the stupidly hard word to think off.

Ah yeah, it was about the other stupid thing, namely that I am writing this in the first person, which I still cannot do, no that skill has not come to me in the time it took to look up a word. What a pity.

But I have started the last few paragraphs with something other than I from time to time. That at least is something. Wait, should I add punctuation there? That, at least, is something. Looks better, but maybe that is just my love for commas talking. I mean, why write a boring sentence with a dot in the middle, which makes it short and doesn’t give you enough space to play with it, when you can also add unnecessary punctuation, so that you can play with the cadence of how something is read out loud or in someones mind?

Whoops, now that whole paragraph is long, if I want to make this story easy to read I’ll have to make this one shorter. Hmm, is this good? Yeah, probably. Enter.

Now, I’m suddenly wondering, if paragraph is even the right word. In Dutch the word is ‘alinea’ and the word ‘paragraaf’ also means chapter, but not really, only in a school book. It doesn’t really make sense, because you also have a chapter in a schoolbook and that’s divided in paragraphs and each paragraph has ‘alinea’s’

Aaand I’ve distracted myself by thinking about the differences between each language instead of looking up if paragraph is actually the right word and it means what I think it means.

I look it up on Google translate, not the most trustworthy source for sentences, but for lone words it’s alright.

It is the right word, along with indention, but I’m not really familiar with that word, although I can see where it comes from with the paragraphs creating indentions in the text. Still, I decide to stick with paragraphs, cause “if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it” and I live by that.

Looking back to the clock in the corner of my screen I realize that I’ve now been writing this for 40 minutes. It isn’t all that long, but I don’t know where I’m going with this anymore. I had a point when I began and now I’ve forgotten it.

I stretch my arms, by pushing away my chair, leaning forward until my shoulders are at the same height of my desk is. My right shoulder cracks, it has always done that, but the sound snaps me out of my musings and makes me pay more attention to my surroundings.

It is raining outside and I hear people screaming. They sound happy, probably celebrating something and drinking, but I still wondered what they’re doing up so late (ignoring the fact that I am still awake too.)

Right, my word document. I was trying to remember what my point was. No wait, not remember, recall sounds better. I double click remember and replace it with recall: I was trying to recall what my point was.

Although I have found a nice sentences with the best word to describe the action, I still don’t know what comes next. I suddenly begin to doubt myself. Maybe this was a dumb idea. Maybe I’ve read this somewhere before and I am unconsciously copying someone. Maybe I should just delete this and move on to something else.

I mean, come on, who wants to read this? No one. I’m just going to post it, knowing that no one cares and no one will read it. People don’t go to AO3 for original works, you don’t, so why would anyone care about it? It’s going to get five hits tops, with maybe two kudos, three if you’re lucky.

And now I have accidentally switched to a second person perspective, can’t even stay consistent. Maybe if I play it off as an introspection or and internal dialogue no one will notice or think it’s an artistic choice.

Pff, artistic choice. You can hardly call what I’m doing artistic. It’s just fanfiction, a hobby. Yeah, I know that is still good and can be great, even amazing and artfully written, but this isn’t. I have a too direct writing style for that. I’ve only been getting English education for six years and it’ll take so much more practice until I ever reach that level.

I’ve gotten off track completely now. I faintly remember that this started out as a mock internal dialogue of what happens when I write a fanfic, but now it turned into a self deprecating shit parade.

I blink long and hard, trying to get my head back on track and write something better, or at least more consistent.

Realizing that in order to do that I should probably scroll up and read (lets be honest scan) how I started. I don’t have the energy for it, but I force myself to do it with a sigh.

Scroll, scroll, scroll.

Ah, yeah, I began with where I was and then that discussion about language and looking things up. Oh, but I’ve also reflected on what I’ve written before, well, before. Then it was about re-finding what I was doing after I had to look up a word and now it is desperately trying to remember what the actual fuck I was doing in an attempt to make something cohesive, but still. I decide to not do that again.

I still don’t know what my point was when I started this, but I’m making a new one up right now. I think I’m going to call the work ‘behind the scenes’ or ‘the thoughts of a writer’, since I have now decided that this is a way to get readers a peek behind the curtains.

As a reader, I can respect people so much for all the work they put into a story. And of course I’m not saying you can’t do that if you don’t write, no, that would be pretentious, but I do have more respect for them than before I started writing all those years ago.

It is really easy to forget that something you read in a few minutes has taken hours to write. This is not even 2k words long right now. I know I can read that in a few minutes, not even blinking and mostly forgetting, before moving on to the next story, but I have been writing almost nonstop for over an hour now.

I am lucky that I can usually keep the words flowing long enough to make some bullshit up that I can reason into a coherent story in the end, but that has taken practice. A lot of practice.

In order to become a good in writing a story you have to do it so many times and you won’t even notice you’ve gotten better until much later. I know this, because I recently went through all my works and made them better. Got all the typos out there, I fixed vague sentences and I made the lay out better. I also cringed a lot.

Well, I think I have to go with a ‘behind the scenes’ now, because I don’t think I can claim this is my internal monologue when I’m writing. Instead this has turned into a think piece about writing and appreciating it or something.

I don’t even know anymore.

I recall I had a point when I started this, probably thought it out and then my brain decided to throw it away and throw up this garbage instead. It is interesting, I suppose, but not at all what I was going for in the beginning.

Oh well, maybe I can fix it when I proof read it, because I am tired and I think I’m going to bed. I have half the mind to just fuck it and throw it on AO3 without glancing over my own words even once. It’s very tempting to leave others to deal with these honest words and pretend they aren’t mine, but I don’t.

However, I don’t think I will edit this that much, because it was nice to get some frustrations on, well not paper, but on screen. Just order my thoughts, you know?

It is hard to stay motivated when it seems that everyone around you is doing so much better than you. It is disheartening and it makes you want to stop.

I don’t.

I can’t.

Writing is what I do, it helps, it’s nice. I love writing and I don’t think I will stop loving it. But one of the reasons I love writing is because it can get the constant thoughts and ideas to stop swirling around in my head.

Today I needed it to stop, so that I could just go to sleep properly and I feel like this helped. It was honest and I feel better now. Tomorrow can come at me and I will face it like I did today. Maybe my last few fics weren’t to everyones taste and that’s okay, they were my taste and I love them and I am proud of them. For me that’s enough.

I would apologize for ranting, I usually do, but since you could stop at any time and leave, I don’t think I’m going to do that, what I am going to do, is thank you.

Thank you for reading this, despite the fact that it is not a fanfic. Thank you for allowing me to just dump all these thoughts on you. And thank you for being here and clicking it, your support, even if it is only an extra number by “hits”, means so incredibly much to me and I cannot put in to words how grateful I am that you are here.

Since it is now 01:18 and if I recall correctly it was 00:02 when I started, I think I am really going to stop now. Goodnight, or good-whatever time a day you’re reading this!

Goodbye :)

[vino-and-doggos]

Duality, chapter 3

Read on AO3

Chapter Length: 3935 words (full length so far: 11,402)

Rated: E

Status: Incomplete (3/?)

Summary: Roy Mustang is a young man, dealing with his burgeoning sexuality, a difficulty alchemy teacher and his hard-set daughter, and a good-looking cadet that also likes quiche.

Shout out to @flourchildwrites for rewording and comma fixes. She’s kind of the best. (And she needs some love. Go read her stuff.)

Chapter 3: Antagony and Alchemy

Roy awoke with a start. Not a nightmare. Not his alarm shrieking. Just in an unfamiliar place.

He took a few deep breaths, trying to slow his racing heart. As soon as he started to calm down, however, he remembered that he had to meet with Master Hawkeye. Fuck. Was he late on his first day?

Roy scrambled out of bed, acutely aware that the taupe curtains on the four-poster were expelling small amounts of dust, as if indignant that they had been disturbed. Stumbling, he frantically pulled off his wrinkled pajama pants and glanced out the tallest of the windows in his room. Roy groaned, one foot still tangled in folds of fabric; the early light of day was just beginning to crack the horizon. Tendrils of pink-orange light had just started to seep through the crack in the curtains that matched the bedspread. In the pale gleam, the walls looked to be a sickly grey color - so unlike the deep, rich red of his room above the bar.

He briefly debated whether or not he should delay starting his day, but Roy’s bladder ached, demanding his full attention.

He re-situated his pants and stumbled into the hallway, wiping the sleep from his eyes. Roy was fairly certain that the bathroom was across the hall and to the left. He hesitantly approached and opened the door, and when he saw the cool blue tile, he was relieved - both physically and emotionally.

The young alchemist decided to make his way downstairs to poke around in the kitchen for some tea. As he descended the steps, he heard noise coming from the kitchen.

Roy attempted to sneak quietly down the hallway, approaching the kitchen with all the stealth of an excited labrador. He stood in the doorway for a moment, watching the mop of blonde hair move effortlessly around the kitchen.

“Was that really you attempting to be sneaky?” she asked, almost cruel humor evident in her voice. Miss Hawkeye hadn’t even turned around to speak to him. She just continued putting away dishes and checked on the kettle on the stove. Roy jumped at the sound of her voice.

“How did you know I was here?” he asked, almost out of reflex. At this question, Miss Hawkeye turned to look at him, a deadpan expression gracing her delicate features.

“Your footsteps are heavy, your clothes swish when you move, and I could hear you breathing.” Miss Hawkeye looked over her shoulder at him standing stunned in the doorway. “You might as well sit down. I’ll be starting breakfast in a few minutes.”

Roy slowly made his way to the small table and sat down, still regarding the back of the blonde’s head with a stupefied expression on his face. “How did you hear all of that?” There was so much noise as she continued cleaning - the clink of dishes against one another, the hiss of the gas at the stove, and the percussive sound of bubbles beginning to form as the water boiled all culminated in the quiet cacophony that was kitchen noise.

Inelegantly, Miss Hawkeye snorted. “Well, City Boy, the better question is how you think we get our meat here. I go hunting. You’d scare away a deer from five miles out with footsteps like those.”

“What’s wrong with a butcher shop?” Roy asked.

“Money,” Miss Hawkeye said shortly. “We’re not in the poorhouse, but why pay for meat when I can hunt it for the price of bullets? I do usually take it to the butcher for them to process it. He keeps the pelts as a fee.”

“Oh,” Roy intoned. He realized at that moment that he had never thought about where the goods he consumed came from. As he looked at the table in front of him, he heard Miss Hawkeye clear her throat.

“A vegetarian breakfast for you, then?” she said, not as unkindly as she had previously spoken to him, as she placed a cup of tea on the table in front of him.

Roy smiled sheepishly. “No, no, I’m sorry. I guess I just never thought about it before. Don’t feel like you have to cater to me! Thank you,” he said, nodding towards the teacup.

Miss Hawkeye raised an eyebrow at him and turned back to her task on the stove, now sizzling brightly with spicy-smelling meat in one pan and eggs in another. Roy sat and sipped his tea, oscillating between watching the girl bounce around the kitchen and taking in the rather spacious backyard through the window. As far as he could tell, the Hawkeye property extended to the tree line, a good fifty yards from the house.

Suddenly, his thoughts turned as he realized what an ungracious guest he was being. Aunt Chris would be ashamed. “Can I help you with anything?” Roy blurted, recognizing only after the words had escaped his mouth that Miss Hawkeye was putting a plate in front of him.

She looked down at his reddened face, a suspicious and questioning look marring her features. “No, not really,” she responded, a hard edge to her voice. “I’ll be right back.” With that, she dashed out of the kitchen carrying a tray with a covered plate, a teacup filled with liquid, and what Roy thought might be a sugar bowl.

He heard her ascend the stairs as he turned back to his breakfast, frowning at the short answer he received. The grimace was short-lived, however; Roy didn’t realize how hungry he was until he saw the food placed in front of him. He started to eat, still looking around and taking in his surroundings.

He hadn’t been in the kitchen last night. And it looked just like what he imagined a kitchen in a normal house would look like, he supposed. The kitchen at the bar was an industrial one, one designed to prepare food for a crowd of people all at once; Madam’s kitchen was cold, hard, and shiny. The Hawkeyes’ kitchen was more cozy, featuring a black cast iron stove along one wall and an intricately carved, coffee-colored buffet and hutch along the opposite wall. A checkerboard pattern adorned the floor.

The black and white pattern of the tile had just started to make Roy’s tired eyes dizzy when he heard Riza re-enter the kitchen.

“Do you ever get to eat breakfast with your father?” Roy casually asked.

“Sometimes,” Riza responded. “He usually sleeps in until the last minute, though. Up doing research,” she added, a hint of disdain tinting her voice.

Roy hummed in response. He chewed thoughtfully for a moment, taking in the flavor of the meat - maybe pork? - before asking another question.

“I don’t mean any offense by this Miss Hawkeye, so please don’t take it as such.” A pregnant pause filled the air as Roy debated on whether or not he should continue. Master Hawkeye’s frail frame wasn’t something he felt he could ignore. “Your father doesn’t look well. Has he been sick recently?”

Miss Hawkeye seemed to deflate slightly as she sat down at the table with a plate of food. She hesitated, as though considering whether or not to even say anything at all.

“Father fell ill about three years ago. It was the same sickness that… took mama… I mean, Mother. But Father got better.” Bitterly and quietly, she said, “At least I thought he got better.” She carefully schooled her face into what might pass as indifference, letting the implication hang in the air.

The boy floundered for a moment. Dead parents he could handle. He’d been handling that on his own behalf for just about as long as he could remember. But a parent dying slowly, life and death hanging in the balance right before the young man’s very eyes? What was he supposed to think or say or do? There was one thing Roy was positive of: there was no way, on any plane of existence, that Miss Riza Hawkeye would accept any form of sympathy from him. So, he went with the optimistic route.

Clearing his throat, Roy said, “I’m sure the heat yesterday didn’t help. He’ll probably fair better as the days get milder. He’ll be able to get some more strength back before the cold sets in.”

Miss Hawkeye nodded as she lifted a bite of food to her mouth; he noticed that she didn’t look convinced.

Roy stood, reflexively taking his breakfast dishes to the sink. He scrubbed his plate and utensils, followed by his teacup. Turning to the stove, he grabbed the cast iron pans. Before the young man had made his way back to the sink, however, Miss Hawkeye maneuvered into in his path.

“Stop cleaning. That’s not something you’re expected to do.” She looked him like an alchemist - comprehending, deconstructing, and reconstructing the bits and pieces of her father’s latest apprentice. However, her gaze held no curiosity. It was uncertainty.

“It might not be expected of me,” started Roy, “ but I live here now, too. I don’t expect you to clean up after me. I’ll be as much help as I can be around the house.”

Roy heard Miss Hawkeye scoff under her breath. “Are you sure you know how?” Her eyes flitted from the pans in his hands to the soapy water in the sink.

“I helped my aunt and sisters clean since I was pretty young. I think I can handle it,” the young alchemist responded frigidly.

He noted, with some pride, that Miss Hawkeye seemed taken aback. “Do you want me to help you finish the dishes?” he inquired, an air of chilliness still permeating his tone, though it had warmed significantly in comparison to his last statement.

“I’ll wash, you dry?” the blonde grudgingly suggested.

“Sounds like a plan,” Roy responded, astonished that she agreed at all.

She looked at the pans again and said, “First thing… cast iron pans don’t go in soap. Ever.”

They worked quickly in companionable, albeit slightly awkward, silence. As Roy finished drying and stacking the last dish, he turned to Miss Hawkeye.

“Look, I’m sorry,” he started. “The last twenty-four hours have just been really overwhelming for me. Me coming here has to really throw a wrench in, well, everything.”

“Apology accepted,” she said efficiently. “I didn’t mean to imply that you weren’t capable. I’ve done everything by myself for so long now that it’s just second nature.”

She didn’t actually apologize for her behavior, though, Roy noted. Not that it really matters, he thought.

“Thank you for breakfast, Miss Hawkeye.”

Eyebrows raised, she regarded the alchemist before her and hesitantly nodded.

She still doesn’t trust me. Although… Maybe this was a step in the right direction.

Just then, he heard the tell-tale sounds of movement in the bedroom above them. Realizing he only had about a half an hour before he was set to meet with Master Hawkeye, Roy excused himself to finish getting ready for the day.

He walked up the stairs contemplating the interesting meal he just shared with the youngest member of the household. Roy reached his room only to see the disheveled mess that he left the bed in as he rushed to get ready “on time” earlier.

The boy strode over to the bed with an air of determination. He straightened the sheets, comforter, and pillows and resolved that Miss Hawkeye would not be taking care of all of these chores by herself anymore. Stepping back and admiring the simple job, Roy smiled.

He approached his suitcase, resigned to unpacking later that day, and grabbed the first set of clothes he laid his hands on, and his toothbrush. He headed back towards the bathroom.

After washing his face, brushing his teeth, and changing into a new set of clothes, Roy felt ready and confident to tackle the day. He returned his belongings to his room and, glancing at the clock, realized he was due in Master Hawkeye’s study in only a few moments.

Stepping lightly, he made his way back down the stairs. My footsteps are not heavy, the apprentice thought. The young man took care to move in such a manner that wouldn’t make nearly as much sound.

Roy stopped in the doorway and found Master Hawkeye sitting at his desk.

“Well, come in. Let’s get started.”

The morning passed by either agonizingly slow or astonishingly fast depending on the mood of Master Hawkeye, and by the end of it, Roy had lost all sense of time. For hours, he remained in the center of the dimly lit study as Berthold paced the perimeter of his office. The young alchemist quickly learned to stand when answering Hawkeye’s questions and to sit and jot down what notes he possibly could when the learned man chose to lecture. Most of his notes were simply terms with “look up later” scrawled in nearly illegible writing beside it.

At times, Roy thought he was drowning; it seemed as though Master Hawkeye would question the propriety of an answer simply for the sake of doing so. Other moments, his teacher fell silent, shaky hands rummaging through the well-stocked bookshelves for a new book that he promptly tossed in Roy’s direction.

By the end of the morning, the aspiring alchemist had three more books to read, a task that would easily consume what was left of the day. Suddenly, he understood that his afternoons were not for rest or recklessness. He was expected to study - and study hard.

Around 2:00 in the afternoon, Roy and Master Hawkeye emerged from the study. The apprentice felt a hand clap him on the shoulder.

“Good work today, boy. I’m impressed with everything you managed to learn from the books alone,” the long-haired man pronounced.

Roy managed a weak smile and nod in his master’s direction. He was exhausted. And hungry. Breakfast with Miss Hawkeye seemed so far away. Master Hawkeye must have read his thoughts.

“I’ll bet there’s lunch prepared for us,” Hawkeye said as he used the hand on Roy’s shoulder to steer him towards the kitchen. Just as he suspected, there was a covered plate of sandwiches on the countertop waiting for them.

“Thank you,” Roy said meekly to the air, hoping that Miss Hawkeye would hear him, wherever she was.

After appetites had been sated, it seemed that Master Hawkeye’s daughter appeared from nowhere, only to disappear again, this time into the study with her father. While the small family converged, Roy returned to his room and unpacked his belongings. He barely managed to finish removing items from his suitcase before he heard the door to the study open and close again.

The apprentice noted that their meeting didn’t take long, but Roy couldn’t help but wonder what it was all about. He collapsed onto his bed with his notebook and pen and set out to write a letter to his aunt. He should probably let the Madam know that he made it safe and sound.

The months continued similarly. Every day, Roy would wake up and have breakfast with Miss Hawkeye. However, the conversation between the two youths remained stilted. No matter what he did, the little lady of the house refused to open up. Aunt Chris's letters counseled patience and persistence, and if there was one thing the Madam understood, it was a woman with a complicated past.

Keep trying, she wrote in her semi-regular correspondence. Her script, much like her advice, was bold and straightforward. Don't let her talk down to you, but never bite back. Little girls who were forced to grow up too fast are always too tough on the outside, Roy. Thankfully, I don't have to worry about you falling for her. William sends his regards.

After breakfast, Roy met with Master Hawkeye, and by 2:00 (but never before noon) they would break for lunch. Then, Miss Hawkeye entered the study for, what the young alchemist discovered, her own tutoring session. Roy scrambled each afternoon to complete the assigned reading. In between books, he attempted to rewrite the hastily-scrawled notes from that day’s lesson, as well as include anything that Master Hawkeye had stressed that he pay attention to during his reading. Evenings were dedicated to more shared meals between the youths of the house and leisure, though Roy would occasionally bring work that Master Hawkeye assigned. Miss Hawkeye preferred to complete her own schoolwork at the breakfast table after the meal had been cleared.

"So you're not studying alchemy with him after all. Just algebra and basic science?" Roy asked one morning over a piece of freshly baked bread. The loaf was dense, almost deflated, but he knew better than to complain. Miss Hawkeye chuckled sarcastically in response.

“I had to leave school when Mother got sick,” she said scornfully as her small fist curled into a ball. “So Father has continued to teach me.” A dark look crossed her face as her eyes traveled towards the door to Master Hawkeye’s study. Roy put another mental note in the “Master Hawkeye’s Daughter” folder: try to never be on the receiving end of that look.

The arrangement made sense when Roy stopped to think about it; if he had thought about it for more than a half a second his first night there, he probably would have made that conclusion on his own. How could Miss Hawkeye play housekeeper so well if she was also expected to attend school Monday through Friday? What he wasn’t expecting was the temper that came along with the answer or the edge to her voice that seethed with thinly-veiled disdain.

One mild November morning, Roy strolled into the kitchen and was shocked to see Master Hawkeye sitting at the kitchen table, sipping a cup of tea. The young alchemist suddenly felt like the air was sucked out of the room. Was he still wearing his pajamas? Fuck. He was definitely still wearing his pajamas. Just because Hawkeye could walk around in his lounge-abouts didn’t mean that his apprentice could.

“Good morning, sir,” Roy said, careful to keep his face nonchalant, thinking poker face, poker face, poker face. Master Hawkeye had just had a talk with him the previous week about how alchemists had to protect their secrets and their research; to do that, Roy needed to learn to not show every emotion that he felt across his face. Roy was still trying to figure out what kind of research his teacher had conducted, but in the meantime, it was all about learning what he could and gaining the trust of his superior.

“Good morning, Mister Mustang,” the master responded with a nod of approval.

Miss Hawkeye, as usual, was flitting about the kitchen, getting breakfast ready. She and Roy had fallen into a pleasant rhythm over the past few months, despite conversations between them still feeling about as warm as Briggs in the middle of January. Roy retrieved plates and utensils from the appropriate cabinets. He set them on the countertop beside the stove, waited for Miss Hawkeye to fill them with food, and then delivered them to the table.

He could feel the older man’s eyes on him as he went about the normal morning routine. Master Hawkeye’s eyes were still glued to the boy as Roy gently put a plate down in front of him. “Thank you,” he grumbled, eyes never leaving Roy.

“I didn’t really do much,” Roy hedged sheepishly. “All the credit should go to Miss Hawkeye.” Roy turned to Riza to see that she had stiffened, her back still to the table. The small smile faded from Roy’s face.

Master Hawkeye cleared his throat. “Thank you, Riza.”

“You’re welcome, Father,” she responded crisply. She turned and made her way to the table, carrying a teapot and other necessary accouterments.

The trio ate awkwardly in silence.

Silence around a meal table wasn’t something Roy was used to, given the bustle of the bar, the rowdiness of his sisters, and the general calamity of attempting to feed so many mouths all at once. Even at the Hawkeye’s house, meals shared between Miss Hawkeye and Roy were never silent, though they were generally less boisterous than the meals the boy grew up with.

The clink of silverware against plates and the occasional ting of a glass being set down slightly too hard seemed to reverberate around the room. The young man would give almost anything to be back at the bar where he never had to worry about silence around a meal. Anything except a quality alchemical education, he supposed.

Master Hawkeye finished his food first, stood from the table, and addressed Roy, breaking the silence. “When you’re done, we’ll get started for the day.” Roy watched him walk around the table and continue down the hallway into his study. The apprentice turned back to the table just in time to see Miss Hawkeye’s demeanor relax significantly.

“Is everything… Are you okay?” Roy asked hesitantly. All he got was a stiff nod in return.

Roy began gathering dishes and moved towards the sink as he usually did when he heard a small sound from behind him.

“I’m sorry, what?” he said.

“Don’t worry about the dishes today. I’ll take care of it,” Miss Hawkeye explained. “Go ahead and start your lesson.”

Roy shot her a confused look but did as she asked. He walked down the hallway and entered Berthold’s study, only to find Master Hawkeye sitting at his desk with steepled fingers, not unlike the first night Roy met the man.

“What are your intentions toward my daughter.” The sentence was phrased like a question, but spoken with the cold clarity of a statement that left Roy shivering.

“Nothing, sir,” he said honestly. “We talk over breakfast, sometimes discuss what we’re studying. Occasionally she’s recommended books to me, as I have done for her. But otherwise, we don’t really interact. And besides, it’s not like I would like her anyway, I have a boy- uh, I mean someone waiting back in Central,” Roy rushed through his quasi-rambling explanation.

This is it, he thought. I’m out. I’m done for.

Even though he managed to keep his face straight throughout his explanation, the beads of sweat rolling down his neck betrayed him. Hawkeye’s lessons in controlling his emotions were working for his facial expressions. Roy’s bodily reactions were harder to dominate.

A raised eyebrow dominated his master’s face for a few silent seconds. Then, to Roy’s shock, a toothy smile split Hawkeye’s face. It looked almost demented in the low light of the morning.

“Thank you for your honesty, boy. I appreciate that you’ve respected me by not attempting to cross any boundaries.”

Roy frowned internally at this. Miss Hawkeye was the one who said she wasn’t interested in being friends. He was respecting her, not Master Hawkeye.

“But you don’t have to isolate yourself. You two can be friends,” the older man continued.

Roy made a sarcastic sort of sound. “Maybe you should tell her that,” he muttered under his breath. He realized at the last second that was said a bit louder than he meant to. Roy looked up, the slight panic in his eyes meeting the calm expression of his master.

He chuckled again, and Roy could have sworn he heard him say, “Maybe I will.”

“Alright, Mister Mustang. Let’s get started for the day. If you remember, I had you read and review Alchemic Transmutations of Water. Mercury is commonly associated with water in alchemy. What is the alchemical symbol that we use to denote water?”

“An upside-down triangle,” Roy answered confidently.

Master Hawkeye’s lips quirked up. “Correct. Now, explain why.”

[incorrect4minute]

bad girl: jeon jiyoon au

(semi proofread) this au is heLLA long lmao prepare yourself 

but also let me know what you thought of this, i never usually write bullet poit style

request if you’d like to see more au’s like this! - admin muzik

jeon “jenyer” jiyoon was bad news

one of those girls who were “badass to the bone”

she sometimes came to school on a motorcycle

and wore a leather jacket with her gang’s logo on the back

the gang was called ‘4Minute’

this was due to the fact that they could literally beat you up or ruin your life in 4Minutes

or so the rumours said

they weren’t bullies or drug addicts etc

they just liked having the five of them in the group, no one else

this is why people started leaving them alone and making up rumours about them and why they’re so cold and daunting   

this is also why the girls started acting colder towards other students, talking back to teachers etc etc

jiyoon was the most intimidating of the five

she was also the loudest

yelling profanities at other students who looked at her the wrong way in the hallway

she was suspended for 2 weeks when she came to school with green hair

however comma

after those two weeks, her hair was still green

she was sent out of every class

labelled as a ‘disgrace’

she argued that it was a ‘fashion statement’ ‘students should be able to express themselves’

the teachers would have none of it

most students thought she was ‘crazy’ (wink wonk)

like some kind of harley quinn wannabe

she had this aggressive gaze

it was almost like Medusa’s gaze

hence why most students looked away whenever she or 4Minute strutted through the halls

however comma

while most people looked away from jiyoon 

your gaze followed her

what?

even though she kinda scared you

she was exceptionally beautiful

you didn’t necessarily have a crush on her

you knew she was a bad influence

everyone and their grandma knew she was bad news

but somehow that made her more intriguing??

she had never acknowledged you

however (comma)

she once fought with your best friend

jiyoon skipped her in the lunch line

your best friend didn’t know how or when to keep her mouth shut

so

she called jiyoon out for it

jiyoon attempted to start a fight with her

but she caught your eye 

you were terrified of jiyoon could do (you heard a lot of rumours about her)

(plus you didn’t really want to get involved and break up a fight)

and walked off before a teacher could give her detention anOTHER ONE

(but we all know your best friend would’ve lost lmaooo)

no one

and i mean no one

crosses jeon jiyoon

and gets away with it

you never had much of a problem with jiyoon, in fairness, you didn’t know much about her

all you really knew was she lived in the house across from you and was hella “badass”

you were a quiet student

you kinda just blended into the background

you tolerated her loudness in the canteen and in the halls

like most students when she walked through the halls

you turned away or hid your face in a book

yet

the one place you didn’t tolerate her loudness was in class

you actually liked learning

the class you performed best in was english

on the flip side

this was jiyoon’s worst class

she hated the teacher

(but it was really because she struggled with english, but didn’t want to seem helpless or stupid)

so one day in english

the teacher decided to ask jiyoon to recite a bit from the textbook

in front of the whole class

for the first time - jeon jiyoon was nervous

she stood up and began to read

she stumbled and stuttered

mispronounced and missed out words she didn’t know

some people began giggling and muttering under their breath

jiyoon’s ear’s had gone red

once she’d finished she quickly sat down and tried to act cool about embarrassing herself in front of the whole class

the teacher sighed

“jiyoon, we’ve been reading the book for weeks, we’ve gone over the pronunciation of these words. have you even been practising?”

she looked scared for a split second before returning to cool jiyoon™

“whatever,” she said as she rolled her eyes

the teacher sighed again

“fine, let’s now see someone i know will have been practising, y/n, please read that same paragraph for the class”

like most human beings

you hated reading for the class

but

english was your best subject

so you tried to act more confident

you stood up and began to read

sure you stuttered on a few words but you did a very good job

your teacher gave you a proud smile

before they could talk about your reading

your teacher was asked to go see the headteacher by another member of staff who knocked on the classroom door as you were finishing

once they’d left, the class were all talking

you, unfortunately, didn’t sit near any of your friends

but you did sit across from jeon jiyoon

she sat beside hyuna (another member of 4Minute)

jiyoon must’ve been a bit annoyed at the fact you did wayyy better than her in speaking

so much so

she was doing an impression of you to hyuna and those around her

“i’m y/n! i’m sooooo good at english! blah blah blah!” she mimicked in a high pitched voice 

(nothing like yours but nice try sis)

you tried your best to ignore it

the chatter in the class was starting to die down

as they all began listening to jiyoon

this, obviously, made things very uncomfortable for you as everyone in the class started turning around to look at you

she paused to laugh about it with hyuna

at this point, you weren’t necessarily upset

you were kinda pissed off

(who wouldn’t be?)

so

you turned to face jiyoon’s general direction

“you know jiyoon, if you actually practised and tried in this class instead of picking fights in the lunch line and dying your hair shitty shades of green, you might be able to be as good as me”

oooffftttt

bitch

you snapped!

the class went dead silent

jiyoon deadass just stared at you

if looks could kill lmaoooo

thankfully, your teacher came back into class just in time

(you were afraid jiyoon was about to literally murder you)

your teacher was a tad bit concerned with the fact jiyoon was staring at you with just a dash of rage in her eyes

but it was last period on a friday

they could care less lol

they continued the lesson but the bell rang, dismissing you for the day

you quickly gathered your stuff before skrrt skrrting out of class

you met your friends outside

they were pretty impressed with your comment to jiyoon

(you were impressed with yourself too)

you said goodbye to them at the school gates and walked along the street to your part-time job

this was at a restaurant

it high key sucked at it was straight after school on a friday but the place was pretty understaffed and you never really had any plans for a friday as your friends were studious or busy with family etc

you arrived at work, got changed into the uniform and got round to waiting tables

the hours flew by

probably bc you didn’t even have time to stop and check the time

before you knew it, it was time to wipe down the tables and close

you collected your things, said goodbye to the owner and began to walk home

it was now nighttime but the city was still buzzing with people in nightclubs etc

walking home at night never bothered you

there was fear in the back of your mind about getting jumped

(so you had a wee bottle of pepper spray in your bag just in case)

but you’d been working at the restaurant for a couple months and nothing had happened

you passed a bar with some men smoking and drinking outside it

they called on you

but you kept walking

they kept calling you

you kept walking

two of them began to follow you

you quickened your pace, you were nearly home

one of them caught up to you and started yelling at you (all creepy like)

you suddenly felt frozen with fear

that was until a hand came out of nowhere, grabbed yours, and began dragging you away

you stumbled a bit, trying to gain balance

and figure out what the fuck was going on

you saw the men being punched in the face by two tall figures

they were then pepper-sprayed by two others 

you couldn’t see who they were

nor who was pulling you

the person was still running, as were you

you saw you were at your street but they kept going

“hey can you like stop now, my house is coming up!” you yelled at the person

they began to slow down back to a walking pace

but

they didn’t let go of your hand (!!!!)

your street was dark (bc most of the streetlights didn’t work and no one had bothered to come to fix them lol)

however comma

you could make out the writing on the back of the person’s jacket

‘4Minute 4Ever’

it took you a split second to realise who this was and what just happened

“jiyoon?”

they stopped outside your house

‘twas jeon jiyoon (and 4Minute) who saved you

“are you okay?” she asked, fully concerned and slightly out of breath

“y-yeah i’m fine....i think?” you replied, slightly dumbstruck

“what do you mean you think? did they get their filthy paws on you, if they did i swear-”

“n-no, there’s just a lot to process just now...”

“oh....yeah, must be, uhhh, is there anything i can do?”

“would you mind staying with me, at least until my parents get back, i-i kinda don’t want to be alone...butonlyifthatsokaywithyou!” you rushed to say, still a tad dazed 

she gave you a small smile “sure,” she giggled, “i’ll protect you.”

you let yourself into your house and led jiyoon up to your room

“can i get you anything? drink? snack?” you asked, now remembering she was about to murder you only hours ago

“i should be asking you that!” she replied, you both kinda laughed but then remembered how much worse that situation could’ve been if she wasn’t there

you both sat on your bed in a somewhat awkward silence

“i thought you hated me, especially after last period, i’m sorry, i shouldn’t have spoken to you like that, i just-” you said, breaking the silence

“i deserved it, i was a COMPLETE asshole,” she sighed, staring at her hands

“i’m so shit at english, i am at most subjects, i just hide it to keep my ‘badass’ image, i wish i could understand it like you.”

she sighed again

you just sat there shook shocked

“why me? there are other who do way better than me in class...?”

“do i really have to say it?” she smiled at you, but then looked down at your carpet “i um, i did try in school for a while, to impress someone, but they never really noticed, and once 4Minute became a thing i just trying i guess.”

“who were you trying to impress? a teacher, parents?” you asked

“i, uh, it’s silly,” she let out a shaky laugh

“it’s fine if you don-”

“i like you y/n”

“-n’t have, what? why? since when? why??”

“i like you, you seem cool, you’re smart and you’re literally the most attractive human being alive. and uh since when? i was gonna beat up your friend in the lunch line but i saw you behind her, looking scared, and i don’t know, i didn’t want you to be scared of me. i wanted you to like me the way i liked you.”

you were speechless, “but you looked so angry when i called you out in class.”

“i let everything get the better of me, i wasn’t angry at you, i was angrier at myself for not practising, for messing up. hyuna is the only in 4Minute who knows i like you, she stopped me from continuing that shit impression, i’m glad she did, but i’m still sorry i did it.” jiyoon looked at you

“y/n, i am so sorry for ever scaring you or making you feel uncomfortable.”

“it’s okay-”

“y/n, it’s not okay, i feel awful,”

“ji-”

“i just wish i could make things better!”

that’s when you leaned forward and kissed her

you were literally kissing the most intimidating member of 4Minute, in the midst of her confessing to YOU!!

you pulled away first “that made everything better”

she smiled (and blushed a little!!)

“jiyoon, it’s okay. just let me help, i’ll practice with you.”

she smiled “i’d like that. and also, just to clarify, does this mean you like me too?” 

“it does.” you smiled back and you both leaned back in for another kiss

“Y/N WE’RE HOME!” your mum called and the front door slammed shut making both of you jump and break the kiss too soon (for both your likings)

shit

you and jiyoon looked at each other 

you knew your parents wouldn’t be totally chill with having jeon jiyoon in their house

“you could try the front door if you naruto run past them” you suggested

“nah, i’ll use the window.” 

“wait what? why? you could die!?” you whisper shouted

“i can die happy now that i know you like me, and if i survive, i won’t have an absolute nerd as my english tutor!” she said as she started unlocking your window

“the door would’ve been better!” you exclaimed as she got a grip on the drain pipe beside your window

“you’re right, but i wouldn’t be labelled as a badass if i used the door!” and she started to climb down 

“at this point, you’re more like a dumbass than a badass, babe.” you giggled

“i’ll just look past the dumbass part and focus on the babe part, babe.” 

as she reached the ground, jiyoon smiled up at you, waved goodbye and naruto ran in the direction of her house.

turns out, jeon “jenyer” jiyoon wasn’t all bad news

[identitycris1s]

im back

hi just thought id pop in with a status update! maybe i’ll break this down into categories. feel like im doing an email update (ew!) but this rly is probs the best way to structure this post...

work / school (?)

work has been....aite. idk what to say. idk if i have unrealistic expectations of what work is supposed to be, but the idealist in me thinks its wrong to not even try and find something that seems meaningful / is deeply fulfilling. i think im mature enough to get that work isnt supposed to be fun / exciting every single day but bro this daily grind / sense of dread / utter disinterest / feeling of futility / frustration / disenchantment surely isnt the correct state of affairs.....at least let me try and find something that is a better fit, thats more stimulating, that feels more NATURAL to me? i just dont think im cut out to be a lawyer. sure i sometimes like arguing and making my point and i like that everyone i work with is smart and interesting and generally kind and reasonable and i like the prestige of the job and feeling like ppl respect me and i like the decent pay and the humane hours but.....i feel unmotivated to be a good lawyer. i think i find it difficult / disingenuous to always 100% get behind my client and advocate for their best interests. i tend to see things from a zoomed out perspective, like WHY are we fighting, WHY cant we just settle, WHY are the claimants pursuing this absolutely crap and unmeritorious claim and WHY do we have to defend it when its stupid and bound to fail (cos access2justice i guess but still, WHY), WHY cant we just hash things out in a meeting instead of sending emails here and there and wasting time, WHY do we have to answer stupid questions, WHY WHY WHY

and i think public policy is sort of an answer to that....i think theres more questioning of why we do things and why a policy will or will not work, in a macro sense - what is good for society at large. whereas in law (at least in litigation) its how can we just move this case forward and help the client, which is often not the most productive thing to do in a macro sense - very much a zero sum game. i get that shitty / unmeritorious claims still need to be defended against and someone has to do it and I GET IT but i just dont think i want to be that person defending these claims...or bringing them for that matter.....ultimately i cant fully / sincerely separate the overarching sense of futility from the duty to do a good job.

sigh. well at least ive kind of figured out this isnt for me. which is scary cos being a lawyer in this firm is pretty much a career for life - truly an iron rice bowl, i could probably make partner in maybe 4 or 5 years and live a comfortable upper middle class life...but i cant bring myself to do that. i cant bring myself to not give myself a shot at doing something i actually find interesting, stimulating and that i care about deeply. call me crazy! we’ll see where this brings me in 5 years’ time....:) 

anyway most ppl at work (at least in my team) know that im most likely gonna leave soon. i rly only told 2 ppl (my boss cos he had to sign off on my testimonial and G cos she was quitting anyway)...but somehow ppl found out one way or another. i dont rly mind and ppl have been taking it pretty well and have been kind and encouraging (i guess why would they not take it well, im hardly indispensable) but i get a bit antsy thinking - what if i dont get in...then what? do i just put my head down and continue here (BUT IM SO SAD) or do i just quit without any prospects and try to find a policy-ish job??

idk. will have faith that God will put me where I need to be. he is in control of it all and I BELIEVE THIS !!! I am just a bit scared that his plan is different from what i  think i want....but this is just my human instinct and i know in my head that there is no reason to be scared cos his plan is always the better one. head knowledge just needs to translate to heart understanding and real trust / faith.

ermmm relationships...???

i started using...cmb...idk why i find this so cringey. i guess about a year ago i couldnt imagine doing this and i kept thinking EW what if ppl i know see me and they think im a desperate saddo who cant find a bf irl and has to resort to an app EW shes so lame and ugly and gross. and i realised that is so stupid no one actually thinks that way and its very backward and dumb and insecure of me to be thinking that. and anyway as i get older i rly dont quite give a shit what ppl think of me (at least i tell myself that....)

i suppose i was also inspired by csm who has been quite actively using apps and meeting ppl and taking real..strides..(LOL) in her dating life. i used to tell myself hey God will provide u with a mans if he wants u to be with a mans. but also God can use an app to do that...and if i dont step out in faith that he will do something and i dont take any action at all, how is God gonna work?? should i sit at home and expect a man to fall into my lap??

for some ppl it has been way easier, e.g. my parents meeting in uni and falling i love. i always wanted that - the organic relationship, the meet-cute, the friends to lovers thing. (i guess i tried that last one before and it didnt work...) but i think theres no point in romanticising relationships anymore. thats a very modern thing to do and its not necessarily a good thing? like who’s to say a relationship that had organic beginnings is intrinsically better than one that started from an app?

anyway i havent had much luck haha i think its hard to find genuine GCBs (or maybe theyre just not attracted to me....) although recently ive been talking to this one guy B for a week or two and its been...ok i guess. hes rly nice and seemed cool at first - we talked about travelling and hamilton and the office, which was a good start. he is thoughtful and kind and doesnt seem to be put off by my very slow replies (he replies so fast......its stressful a bit) and he does the whole good morning text thing (which i frankly find a bit bizarre, we barely know each other..?? and ive never even met him irl.. but its sweet i guess :))

but DUDE his english seems to be not great - at least thats the impression i get from texting him. which is an issue for me. i dont want it to be BUT IT IS...first red flag was when he said some weird thing about not wanting to wear a mask at work (not a literal mask - like he didnt know if he could be his ‘true self’) and the wording was very strange. then he said “the weekends are almost here” ?? the weekend is not a plural though? then he used the wrong tense a few times and his apostrophe usage was wrong (”Gods’ love” - bro there is one God). he also uses way too many commas which irks me.

i mean i get that text is supposed to be an informal medium - come on look at this post, there r hardly any capital letters and plenty of short forms and hardly any apostrophes but u see its CONSISTENT and its obviously cos of laziness / convenience - but i think his problem is a bit different...u can sort of tell if someone doesnt have a 100% strong grasp of english. those r basic grammar mistakes man...i get that i sound petty and stupid and this isnt a huge deal but i feel like im settling by even talking to him cos this is not something i wld normally tolerate but hey maybe im getting desperate with age :(:(:( urgh 

on the other hand maybe i just need to be more generous with ppl and l have an irrationally high standard for english cos i am a lawyer and my friends all speak well / text well?? maybe im just being too nitpicky?? honestly hes very nice  and communicative and straightforward and seems mature and very God-fearing and idk why hes still talking to me cos ive been a bit cold and slow to respond. hes very patient which i dont rly deserve.....i myself have a million flaws that are probably way worse and egregious (ahem PRIDE...ahem ego....ie the source of this dilemma in the first place...) so maybe i should just close one eye abt the bad grammar.

i also realised how fked up i am - confirmed my suspicion that i am naturally attracted to emotionally unavailable ppl / ppl that just seem distant / out of reach (thats my avoidant attachment style right there). i think there was one day he didnt text me at all and omg...i couldnt stop thinking what i did wrong...like did i piss him off by being too cold for too long...did he get scared off cos i said i wanted to do a masters (idk this seemed like an irrational leap but i was being irrational)..then i started being nicer to him and replied more promptly hahaha turns out he was just rly bz at work that day. omg this pattern is real i think i did this with xj also - was eager to speak when he was in japan but after meeting irll i was just over it... (i am drawn to distance like a moth to a flame and i am repelled by availability like....a fire by a fire extinguisher (??)). yucks i rly hate myself sometimes but yknow what at least im self aware and im trying to fix this...kind of.. gonna hash this avoidant thing out with my therapist at the next sesh.

on the topic of xj i got a bit nostalgic and wondered why we stopped speaking (surprise surprise it was my fault, didnt reply then felt it had been left to long to pick it up again...) went back to look at our texts and aw we rly got along so well, i do miss him as a friend and im sorry about how poorly i treated him especially in dec 2018 / jan 2019 sigh.....i was a real bitch....

anyway im just gonna see how things go with B... if he asks me out i prob will go... just to give it a shot. update if / when that happens!

EDIT - he asked me out lol we shall see how it goes. 

[shouldering-space]

Listen, I’m just getting my theory on so I’m going to list all the junk I noticed in the bio inc video today...

I can’t put it together very well yet, so just some little things I noticed that could mean something, but maybe not.

 Anti claims to have been running the channel this entire time so we can infer that before Schneep came in, “Jack” was really just Anti acting. But why would he choose to “save” Jack? He could of played off killing him as a joke.

“Jack” ran off camera due to seeming sick. Was that because Schneep was taking control, a fight for control between Anti and the doctor, or was it actually Jack getting sick just like his character in the game?

 We’ve only really seen Schneep (i really cant spell his name im sorry) kill his patients before. In the description of Bio. Inc. Redemption #4 it even says that he is a “true doctor of death” so why is he suddenly saving Jack of all people. I mean sure he tried to save Peter (peetahhh) because it seemed like he genuinely liked him/his accounting skills, but in the same episode he refers to Jack (that last guy) as a sham and a travesty, but in the new episode he’s desperate to save Jack and calls him his friend many times.

In the beginning of the video Schneep puts his mask on saying that we “can’t see his beautiful face” but takes it off soon after and later removes his hat. He also complains about the heat, what’s making him so hot (bow chikka bow wow) is it Anti? Is he removing everything because Anti is taking back control?

 Schneep says that Jack is sometimes one person sometimes a completely different person, Anti is mostly known as the complete opposite to Jack. But the way it’s worded kind of makes it sound like Schneep wasn’t under the impression that he’d been talking to Anti. Maybe he never actually knew that Anti got control in October and was fooled just like we were. Or maybe he was talking to Jack and the “mood swings” were just the other egos showing through, but if that’s how it works then how would Schneep be able to talk to Jack at all? It’s an interesting line that I would love to examine more.

“I am a very smart doctor, as you all know. I saved Peter from the brink...” or “I am a very smart doctor. As you all know, I saved Peter from the brink...” The comma is pretty important to me because as far as we have seen Peter is dead. In the Dr. Septiceye Power Hour Schneep clearly lost Peter while operating and in bio inc #4 he said that Peter was “long dead and buried” Now with the comma in the second position shown it implies that we all were aware that Peter is not dead which a major theory I have could explain which is that I don’t think that was Schneep at all. The whole time it could have been Anti which could explain this particular line and how such an obvious mistake could be made, it feels very intentional as well. Showing the doctor failing would definitely give Anti the attention he needs which is why I really don’t think that was Schneep. I could really go more into this and bring in the glasses, the costume, the accent, the missed pronunciations, and other changes but i dont really want to flood this post TOO much.

“I saved my very good friend, Chase. Chase Brody. He went back, he saw his family. Did they take him back? We may never know.” This is another big flashing light line, First of all because we don’t know HOW Schneep saved him. Did he save him from the “suicide” he had at the end of the bro average video, from Jack’s play of bio inc #2, or from something else like an attack from Anti? If this is the doctor talking then should we infer that Chase is dead, like Peter and Schneep has just altered his memories? Is Chase’s family dead as well then? Also it’s important to point out that it’s his “very good friend” Chase just like his “friend” Jack, it’s pretty interesting to think when paired with point #5. And then if we consider that it ISN’T Schneep and it’s Anti then maybe we should assume that Chase is dead or “gone forever” because of the whole “we may never know” bit.

A big thing I noticed was all of the mispronounced words in the video. At first I thought it was just Jack having some trouble because there’s a bunch of weird medical terms, but then at 4:48 it got a bit weird. First of all the way he said “blood clots” was really strange, maybe that was just him trying to do the accent or maybe it was just a weird tongue slip, but it seemed kind of deliberate, it might have been to show the doctor getting infected by Anti as well. And then right after he VERY deliberately and clearly says that they needed to be treated with “antiCOLGATE” (anticoagulants) Now first of all it has Anti straight up in the name so it seems a bit weird that Jack would mess up the word so much, but then it gets weirder because later in the video he says the word correctly. That whole situation feels sketchy to me especially because I don’t know what it implies.Possibly that he only pronounces the word right later because Anti can and Anti is taking back control? He also says that the anticoagulants are the ONLY way to prescribe victory in the face of certain doom which can further imply that Schneep isn’t in this video.

Schneep claims that he is the only way to deal with things in your body that want to destroy you. So that one felt pretty obvious for why he is the first ego that we actually see Anti target, but it also implies that Chase did not turn evil as we previously thought because then Schneep would have “dealt” with him and not saved him wouldn’t he?

The whole I feel it in my own arm bit also implies that as Jack gets hurt Schneep gets hurt and that the game did actually kill Jack in the end. But it also implies that Schneep IS in the same body as the others, but it really confuses me how Jack had “mood swings” if Schneep was IN his head becoming friends with him, wouldn’t Schneep have caught on to what was happening, if so, why didn’t he act sooner to save Jack?

Listen, I’m not saying that the glitches after “I hear your heart, it beat for me. It beat for Schneep.” Were Anti saying it beats for him instead buttttt..... or maybe it was just Anti saying the heart beat was his but I like the first option.

“I will not have you die. Not again. I will not lose you.” So does this mean that Jack came back after Anti killed him last October? Was it a resuscitation kind of thing or maybe it’s impossible for an ego to die hence Chase’s possible survival. I do remember Jack mentioning somewhere that he thinks of Jack as an ego and that the real him is Seán.

“Tell me what to do” Why would Schneep think that Jack knows what to do? It could just be a tell me whats wrong and i’ll fix it kind of thing but maybe not.

“I need your help! Save him!” This was interesting to me because Schneep probably knows that we wouldn’t be able to help since the video wouldn’t be uploaded in real time so maybe he means that we still have time and need to save Jack before whatever goes on tomorrow.

Also it’s interesting that Schneep resisted the attempt Anti made to make him strangle himself whereas Jack succumbed to slitting his throat in the end, though Anti was pushing for like a whole month sooo.

The voice doubled at the line “I’m trying my best” made it sound like both Schneep and Anti were trying their hardest to complete opposite goals, I don’t really have a theory, I just thought that was a cool detail.

Anti saying they all follow him is weird too because if that was Schneep then he was clearly pretty against Anti and Jack also wasn’t very keen in October, maybe Anti is referring to someone other than the egos when he says that.

I don’t think we’ve seen Anti curse yet or at least in a way THAT emphasized which tells us that he is pretty pissed off at us and probably the egos against him too.

Also he referred to Schneep in the past tense (thought) so either Anti is confident that Schneep lost hope or more likely Schneep is dead/unavailable right now.

“That doctor thought he could save him but he was mine.” So was Anti mad because Schneep was messing with something he, in a sense, claimed?

“He was weak just like the rest of them.” Of the egos? Are they all down right now?

He calls us powerless but doesn’t he get power off of our attention? If we went away, wouldn’t Anti go away too?

Are we his puppets or the egos or...??

“There are no strings on me” there are a lot of things that line could mean but im also pretty tired and hopped up on some medicine so i don’t really have the motivation to go through a bunch of those theories.

Favorite boy.... Chase? Schneep? Jack? Seán? Anti? Jackieboy Man? Marvin? One of Jack’s friends? I don’t know about you guys but im pretty sure he means Jack. and i am excited even though i once again will be gone for a while and might see the video late.

Hope if anyone actually read all of this they enjoyed. I haven’t really read many other people’s theories so if any of these sound copied please tell me and I can delete it or credit them or whatever needs to happen. Happy Theorizing Friends.

[jonestowers]

Teenage Bishops, part nine

The following day, a packed Westminster Abbey waited expectantly as the Archbishop of Canterbury took to the pulpit to deliver the homily at the Service of Remembrance for the Veterans of the Korean War. The address had initially been timed in order to make live coverage possible for the BBC 1 lunchtime news, but a late start to the service (due to the Archbishop going to Westminster Cathedral by mistake) meant that this did not happen.

The congregation held their breath as the diminutive figure, swaying slightly, made its way up the pulpit steps then let out a collective sigh of relief when he finally reached the top.

The Archbishop reached inside his robes and pulled out a crumpled handful of papers. He laid them on the flat surface at the edge of the pulpit and clumsily attempted to smooth them out. This had the effect of knocking them off the pulpit and onto the head of the Duke of Northumberland below.

The Archbishop did a pantomime shrug and smiled winningly at the congregation. This tactic had almost invariably worked so far in his tenure, but today’s audience were not going to fall for it. The assembled octogenarians and dignitaries emitted a collective harrumph and audibly folded their arms.

‘My brothers and sisters in Christ’ began the Archbishop ‘We are gathered here today to join in matrimony…sorry – wrong service!’ This bit of boilerplate had always gone over a storm before. Not today.

***

Several miles away, in Fulham, the Archbishop of York was chairing a meeting of Churches Together, a cross-borders ecumenical organisation aiming to bring Britain’s Christian churches together.

The Bishop shuffled her meeting papers, banged them on the table twice to stack them neatly, and looked around her. The circular table had room for eighteen people. In the absence of the Archbishop of Canterbury she was the leader of the Anglican contingent, which consisted of six church commissioners and members of the General Synod. Next to them were a handful of Catholics, three Methodists, a friendly-looking Quaker and three people who she was reasonably sure had described themselves during introductions as Christadelphians. Wondering briefly if this were in fact some Christian brand of soft cheese, the Bishop called the meeting to order.

‘Welcome everyone. I must say it’s a real pleasure to be here at my first meeting as chair of the group.’

She looked around the table with an encouraging smile, not exactly expecting a round of applause, but giving space for one, should it arise. It didn’t.

One of the Catholic nuns fixed her with a stare.

‘How old are you, dear?’

Resisting the urge to say ‘How old are you Your Grace, actually’, the Bishop said ‘Seventeen.’

‘I thought so’ said the nun. There was a small, but perceptible, shifting in seats around the table, as if this fact confirmed all that the assembled had suspected. The Archbishop of York fought down the urge to run screaming from the room, and looked down at the meeting papers until her breath had steadied.

‘Right’ she said brightly, looking up. ‘Agenda item one: welcome of new members.’

***

‘What I mean is, we ARE all brothers and sisters in Christ, aren’t we?’ improvised the Archbishop of Canterbury from the pulpit. ‘And that’s why it’s so good to see all of you here today, as we remember those who died in the Vietnam war.’ A whisper came from directly below the pulpit.

‘Really?’ asked the Archbishop. ‘I thought they were the same thing. And anyway, it’s racist to call it that – it’s Myanmar now.’ More whispering. ‘Is it not? Ah. Anyway, we’re all here today to remember, but not just to remember the past. We’re here also to remember…the future. The future which is the Lord’s plan for all of us. And let me tell you, when you feel that he is there, it is something so…

***

‘And so we come to item four’ said the Archbishop of York. Items one to three had been dispatched in under five minutes, and she was starting to see why this was. The minutes of previous meetings which she’d conscientiously read in advance of this one showed them to be lengthy, drawn-out affairs with plenty of discussion, passion and ideas. So far, every idea she’d suggested had been met with shrugs and silence. Attempts to elicit any response had fallen on deaf ears, even from her fellow Anglicans.

A thought occurred to the Archbishop of York. Did they know? Did something about her manner or how she spoke scream ‘atheist’ to them? She shook her head slightly to clear it. This was not helping.

‘Item four’ she re-stated. ‘ ‘Moves towards a collective position on gay marriage’. Right. Well. I think most of us are probably aware that ‘equal marriage’ is the correct term, so…’

‘The politically correct term, you mean?’ asked a red-faced Anglican, making the inverted commas around the phrase audible.

The Archbishop of York looked at him levelly.

‘If you like, yes. I don’t have a problem with being politically correct. It means thinking about how your words might affect people more vulnerable than you. I don’t suppose any of us have a problem with that?’

The following ten minutes showed that most of them did have a problem with that.

***

‘What we all need to remember is that there’s no need for war. Listen to me. None at all. Apart from the one against Hitler. There was a need for that. But basically, there’s no point to any war and I’m sorry you guys had to be in a war and …I hope you never end up in another one. Er…this is the point where I’d usually drop the mic, but this one seems to be fixed onto the…thing.’ The Archbishop of Canterbury grappled futilely with the fixed microphone for a few seconds, then gave up and descended the steps.

***

‘So’ said the Archbishop of York ‘returning to the matter in hand; discussion of a collective position on’ she drew a breath ‘the legal and civil institution known colloquially both as ‘gay’ and ‘equal’ marriage on the understanding that the foregoing order of terms implies no hierarchy of correctness’, obviously, I’m a bit late to the party here, I mean I’m not fully up to speed on the discussions which have been had up to this point, but I think it would really be very helpful and a real step forward, in terms of social justice, if we could come up with a statement which really speaks to the LGBTQI* communities.’

‘The what?’ asked one of her colleagues.

‘She means the gays’ said a Catholic.

‘It was LGB when I was at uni’ put in the Quaker.

The Archbishop of York closed her eyes again. Was it even worth explaining?

***

Slumped back in his seat as the Dean of Westminster Abbey led the closing prayer, the Archbishop of Canterbury looked morosely down the church. He was the Archbishop of Canterbury. ‘The Archbishop of Banterbury’ the papers had called him. AND he believed in God. So why didn’t this load of old stiffs want to listen to him? What future was there for a church whose core audience was on the brink of death? Where the only growth areas seemed to be hard-line Ugandan bishops preaching intolerance?

Becoming Archbishop of Canterbury had seemed like quite a laugh at the time – he got all the attention going, a free house, handsome salary and, unlike the Pope, he didn’t even have to make a vow of celibacy. It had all seemed too simple.

***

The Archbishop of York sat alone in the meeting room, drinking lukewarm stewed coffee from a too-small cup. Nothing had been achieved at that meeting. Not one thing. Before being voted as the runner-up in the church’s new election system, she hadn’t been to too many meetings, but she had sat on the school council for three consecutive academic years. Things had been very different there – matters were discussed openly and decisions arrived at with a sense of collective responsibility. The meeting she had just chaired had felt more like Twitter on X Factor finals night. How could she mobilise the vast forces and resources of the Church of England for social justice if she couldn’t get sixteen people to agree on the correct term for equal marriage?

The Archbishop of York realised she was unconsciously playing with her smartphone, as she always did when stressed. Before all this started she could have got her feelings out in a post on tumblr, or asked for guidance on Twitter. After her investiture, however, the Church commissioners had made both her and the Archbishop of Canterbury shut down all social media presence, apart from those administered by the Church House communications team.

‘But what if I need guidance?’ she’d asked the Commissioner who told her this.

‘Surely, Your Grace, you will pray?’ he had answered.

The Archbishop of York thought morosely of the Archbishop – he was all right, with his being out of it most of the time and this new-found God thing to boot. Why were things so much easier for him? She’d have liked to have seen him even attempting to chair this meeting – let him try charming his way through that.

The conference room door opened. The Archbishop of York looked up sharply from her ‘phone and was disappointed to see one of the Christadelphians from the meeting. He scuttled in apologetically.

‘Forgot my coat – sorry!’ he said.

The Archbishop of York was on the verge of asking him how he thought the meeting could or should have gone, then realised this was useless; he’d been there like all the rest of them. If he’d wanted to give her a chance he would have at the time.

She gathered her possessions and went outside to the car.