#Author's Choice should be respected but girl I just think it's too damn late to delete hw after the ccs themselves

[tinogiehd]

can we talk about how nervous dream was when george was outside waiting to meet him 🥹 they leaned into kiss each other and sapnap got the “so is it nice to not be driving” like there’s a reason there was a difference!!

HE WAS DOING EXCITED HOPS 😭😭 like we got a damn soundbite for dream and sapnap meeting up and a vlog with heatwaves in the background and an almost kiss for dnf ....

#okay like speaking of #Author's Choice should be respected but girl I just think it's too damn late to delete hw after the ccs themselves #put it over one of the most pivotal moments of their lives #aya asks

[takadasaiko]

Conflict of Interest (a Superman & Lois oneshot)

FFN II AO3

Summary: His daughter’s relationship with Clark Kent has always been a conflict of interest for Sam, but never so much as it had been that day. Set after the main events of 1.12

Conflict of Interest

He had warned her. When Lois had dropped the bombshell that she'd agreed to marry Clark Kent, he'd warned her. She wasn't just marrying the bespeckled reporter that she'd fallen for - while lying to her for the first several months of their relationship and putting a bullseye on her back for the ones that followed - she was marrying Superman. Their lives would never be normal, no matter how much they wanted it to be. How much they pretended, because that's what it really was once the boys came along. Lois might know her husband's secret, but little boys that had no concept of the kind of danger they'd put their mother and themselves in? No, there was no way to tell them, and that left their parents lying to them, because their father - Lois' husband - wasn't normal. Earthquakes collapsed bridges during family dinner and supervillains didn't give a damn about PTA meetings.

Sam had hoped one of those warnings might stick all the way up to the wedding, but he'd raised a stubborn daughter. For a brief time he'd wavered back and forth on if he should assign one of his more promising up-and-comers to play liaison between Superman and the DOD. That didn't happen, though, and as he had stood on the Kent farm in full dress uniform and watched as the alien that the world had come to rely on so heavily lifted his laughing daughter up into his arms and spun her around, he had grimly started to come to terms with the fact that it never would. It was a clear conflict of interest and the military wouldn't blink twice before stripping him of all involvement with Superman if they ever found out. If they did that, though, Sam wouldn't be able to protect his little girl. To protect his family, and if he liked it or not, that included her husband.

They'd made it work, the two men finding a new and awkward balance between family and work. Sam had kept the casual meetings to a minimum. It wasn't until the boys were born that things started to get more complicated. Suddenly Lois wanted him around more. There were Christmas invites and birthdays, not to mention the once a year dinners that Martha Kent somehow thought he was required to attend. He even made it to the occasional pee wee football game or piano recital. Still, Sam was able to compartmentalize for the most part. He and Clark had lost the formal undertones of their conversations outside of the DOD and most days it was like talking to two separate people that wore the same face. So much so that Sam could almost understand how a pair of glasses somehow threw the world off his scent.

Somewhere along the way they got closer. Clark never approached him for parenting advice - Sam imagined that Lois had had a few warnings for him on that front - but there were moments when he caught the question behind the question the younger man was asking. His own father had been gone for years unless you counted some hologram something or the other that had access to the history of his home planet that apparently took on his biological father's form, and it was clear that Clark held a respect for Sam, even if there were a frustrating amount of times that they didn't see eye-to-eye on something. Personal conversations were had behind closed doors and eventually, as long as no one else was around, he became Clark even in red and blue. He was, no matter what name others referred to him as at that very moment, his son-in-law. He was family, and Sam always did whatever he thought was necessarily to protect his family. Sure, it was a conflict of interest, but one that he had told himself benefited everyone in the long run. He helped to protect his daughter's husband and, in turn, his daughter's husband helped protect the world.

He had just never expected to have to choose.

Clark Kent was many things, and one of those was steadfast in his devotion to the world that had welcomed him. He felt a responsibility, he'd told Sam time and again, and Sam believed him. That's why the four star general had thought that the worst case scenario that he'd authorized John Henry for was going to be just that. He'd been firm with Lois - give her an inch and she'd take a mile with it - and was treating it like any other threat. It wasn't until Irons was boots on the ground and Superman had laid him out like a ragdoll that it became evident that the worst case was also the reality and Sam was left with two choices: trust the man that he'd come to respect or take out the alien threat before he could destroy the very people that he'd once loved.

It couldn't be a conflict of interest. The world depended on it.

And with that, Sam had authorized Irons to put his son-in-law down like a rabid dog.

A long, loud car horn dragged him out of the horrible day's memory and Sam realized he'd simply stopped his SUV at the point he should have hung right down the dirt road leading to the Kent farm. A neighbor he was blocking down the east-bound lane made a frustrated gesture as he swerved around him and Sam steeled himself to make the turn. Well, they'd left the lights on for him. Apparently he was still an acceptable guest even if maybe not a welcomed one. It was fine. It was late enough that the household would be asleep and he could grab a quick shower and sleep for a few hours before hitting the ground running the next morning with the sun. After some rest maybe he could find the words to tell Lois… something. He was proud of her, he wished he'd had her resolve, he was sorry he put her through that. Something. Heaven knew she deserved it and he had promised things were going to be different.

Sam pulled the SUV up and parked it in front of the white paneled farmhouse before he killed the engine. His overnight bag was already in the guest room and he all but fell out of the vehicle, exhaustion snapping at his heels. He trudged up the path and was at the next-to-top step before he realized that he wasn't alone. "Clark," he greeted roughly, drawing the younger man's attention over to him from where he was leaning heavily against the railing that lined the porch.

"Sam. Hey. Get everything wrapped up?"

"We'll be wrapping up for a few more days, but we have -"

"Can it wait 'til morning?"

The question stopped Sam mid-sentence and he registered the pained expression on his son-in-law's face. A little pale, a little hunched over. He looked beyond exhausted. "You doin' alright?"

Clark forced a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "All alone in here," he promised, tapping a finger to the side of his head. "Just like the scans said."

"I know they did." Sam shifted his weight, feeling oddly uncomfortable under that blue-green gaze he'd long since become accustomed to. He loosed a long breath. "Listen, Clark…"

"If this is going to be an apology, I don't need one. I don't want one."

"I did give John Henry the green light to kill you."

"And it was the right call."

"Clark."

"In the moment, it was the right call." He grimaced and plucked his glasses from their place so that he could squeeze the bridge of his nose. There was a long, tense silence between them before he put them back, the weight not lifting off of him as he did. "He would have killed everybody we love."

"He?"

"The Kryptonian Tal-Roh tried to use me to resurrect," Clark answered softly.

Sam moved a little closer to better hear him. Not everyone on the property had super hearing. "Who was he?"

His gaze was distant, fixed on the cornfield that stretched out beyond the house he had grown up in. "A general. Zod. My father - Jor-El - knew him, but I only know the highlights. They're nothing compared to having him battering around your head even for a few hours."

"Is this someone we should be concerned about moving forward?"

"I don't think so. I think it was all or nothing. Either he won or I did."

"Glad you came out on top."

"Me too." He perked up, head swiveling towards the door like he heard something and Sam saw a shadow before his daughter became visible. She was dressed for bed in pajama pants and an oversized sweatshirt with a Smallville High crow on it. Her house shoes had quieted her steps.

"Dad," she greeted, though it half sounded like a question as she pushed through the screen door. "It's freezing out here." Well, at least it didn't sound like she was about to turn him away. She did, however, turn to Clark. "The fresh air helping your headache?"

"A little."

"No one gets away from that one, huh?" Sam murmured, thinking about the one constant response from everyone they'd spoken to the night the Kryptonian consciousnesses had been ripped from them.

Clark gave a small, mirthless chuckle. "First one I've ever had. I think it's safe to say I'm not a fan."

The attempt at a joke tugged very slightly at the corner of Sam's lips and he risked a glance back at his daughter. Lois, though, was focused in with a worried expression on Clark. The tiny smile instantly vanished. "I'll let you two get some rest."

That brought her attention back around. "Is there any update?"

"It can wait 'til morning," he echoed Clark's earlier request. "Good night."

Sam thought he heard a quiet response as he pushed through the screen door and into the house. Shower, then bed. Tomorrow would be a new day and by then he was sure he'd know how to say what needed to be said. How to convey that, despite what Clark had just said, he disagreed. He hadn't made the right call that day. He should have taken a page from Lois' book and had a little more faith in the man that had proven himself time and time again.

And he would. It was time to end the conflict of interest and choose his family.

---

Notes: I've been wanting to write a one shot touching on Sam and Clark's relationship for some time now. I have two unfinished fics, but apparently this is the one that I could finish, so here we are.

Seriously considering a second chapter that follows Clark and Lois after Sam leaves and their conversation between his return and the next morning's debrief. Anyone interested?

#Superman & Lois #Superman & Lois fanfiction #Sam Lane #Clark Kent #Lois Lane #Clois

[ryqoshay]

How to Handle a Nico - Dinner at the Nishikino’s

Primary Pairing: NicoMaki Words: ~4.1k Rating: K Time Frame: Late in Maki’s 1st year and Nico’s 3rd year in college. Story Arc: Stand Alone

Author’s Note: This chapter was assembled from a patchwork of about a dozen instances I wanted to include and thus wrote each separately. And somewhere along the lines, MS Word decided not to sync between my PC and mobile devices, so I ended up with two, slightly differently edited versions. Thus, here’s hoping my self-purported prowess with prose was successful in stitching this scene into a sensible structure. Please forgive any unsightly seams.

Nico couldn’t remember the last time she had been this nervous. No, wait, just a few days ago, her first date with Maki. Well, first official date, not counting all of the not-actually-date-but-technically-were-dates from years prior. Unfortunately, that was quickly falling into second place as she approached the gate to the Nishikino home.

Perhaps the date had been easier because she knew Maki, knew Maki liked her, knew Maki liked spending time with her, knew Maki wanted to date her, and was fairly confident Maki was attracted to her. She had known all of these things even before they started dating officially. As such, looking back, she wasn’t sure why she had been so nervous for their first date, because with the exception of one little hiccup named Etsuko, it had all gone splendidly.

But the parental Nishikinos were more of an unknown. Nico had met both of Maki’s parents a handful of times throughout the years, but had never really gotten to know either. She was all but certain she would have little problems with Maki’s mother as she had apparently been talking behind the scenes with her mother about her and Maki’s developing relationship. And she had been quite supportive of Maki’s time as a school idol, so Nico didn’t think she would object to her intended career choice.

Maki’s father on the other hand… Nico remembered quite vividly when he almost made Maki quit being a school idol after her grades slipped the tiniest of bits; not even enough for her to drop from her position as top of her class. Umi had been the one to stand up to him, which made sense insofar as she understood having parents with high expectations. Still, looking back, Nico couldn’t help feeling a bit of regret that she hadn’t been the one to protect Maki. Sure, she had offered her support, but…

“Good evening, Yazawa-san.” A voice came over the speaker.

Nico jumped. Had she even pushed the button to announce her presence?

“Yes, good evening.” She replied as she recognized the voice of the Nishikino estate manager.

“Ojou-sama has informed me of pending arrival, though as always, you are most welcome here.”

“Thanks.” Nico replied as the buzzer sounded to indicate the gate was unlocked.

One gate down, literally. Nico thought as she made her way toward the front door. Though part of her wished Maki had been the one to answer the intercom, she was nonetheless thankful that it had been a member of the house staff with whom she got along well. At least it hadn’t been…

“D-Dr. Nishikino?” Nico sputtered as the door suddenly swung open to reveal a towering, bespectacled man who immediately fixed her with a cool and calculating gaze.

Damn. Why had she stuttered? This wasn’t the first time she had met Maki’s father, and if all went well tonight, it wouldn’t be the last. You can do this Nico! Sure it wasn’t the man she expected and she was caught a bit unaware, but… Gah! Stop being intimidated. You’re here for a reason! And that reason is Maki-chan!

“Yazawa-san.” Maki’s father stated flatly.

“Hi…” Nico cutoff by clearing her throat. “Good evening.” She corrected, offering a polite bow. “I’m…”

“I’m afraid my daughter will be unable to entertain your visit tonight.” Dr. Nishikino interrupted. “We are expecting an important guest who should be arriving presently.”

I’m an important guest? No, wait, of course I am! I’m Maki’s girlfriend now. So, buck up and tell him that.

“Yes, sir, that guest is me.” For emphasis, Nico indicated the stylish dress she had picked out specifically for the occasion. “I’m Maki’s date.”

“…” Dr. Nishikino raised an eyebrow but remained steadfast in his position.

“Nico-chan!” the voice of an angelic savior came from behind the barrier of the paternal Nishikino. “Papa, let her in.”

Dr. Nishikino stepped aside and…

Holy… Nico had to make a conscious effort to avoid letting her jaw hit the floor. Not that Nico, at any point, had forgotten that Maki was beautiful, but when the redhead went all out, it was all she could do not to stare. Though elegantly modest, the deep purple dress still managed to highlight Maki’s best features.

“You’re early.” Maki said, bringing Nico back to reality.

“I’m sorry, did I take you away from your precious piano?” Nico couldn’t help teasing a bit, figuring the younger girl had wanted to arrive at her parents’ home earlier for a few moments of nostalgia with the instrument she grew up playing.

“Yeah, actually.” Maki admitted as she glanced away sheepishly.

“Well maybe after dinner, you can continue your concert, but with an audience?” Nico pointed herself as if it wasn’t already obvious who she meant.

“I’d like that.”

“You look lovely, by the way. Purple always looks good on you, Maki-chan.”

“Thanks.” Maki replied as pink dusted her cheeks. “You look good too. I like when you leave your hair down. It makes you look more…” She trailed off.

“More?”

“Sorry, I meant…”

“More mature?” Nico completed what she believed to be her girlfriend’s thought.

“Uhm… yeah…”

“I’ll have you know Nico is always mature.” She squared her shoulders and placed her hands on her hips pridefully.

Maki raised an eyebrow in a way that left no question as to her linage.

“Anyway, I haven’t seen that dress before, is it new?”

Maki nodded. “Mama and I just got back a little while ago from picking it out.”

Huh… Mama and I were also just out shopping for my dress. Nico thought to herself. And, wait a minute… “We match.” Or at least they matched in the way their old idol costumes matched in overall theme and enough details to be an obvious set while maintaining enough individuality to be unique as well.

“We do?” Maki glanced down at herself before back at Nico. After half a second, she smiled. “Yeah, we do. What a nice coincidence.”

Nico found herself wondering if the coincidence was perchance planned by a pair of meddling mothers who meant well. She made a mental note to ask her mother about the issue later, if for no other reason than to thank her for the cute gesture.

“So, dinner isn’t for a little while yet” Maki continued “but they might have appetizers ready already so why don’t we head to the dining room and I’ll quick check?”

“Lead the way.” Nico decided not to bring up how she still got lost in the huge house, even after visiting frequently over the last few years.

“You coming, Papa?”

Nico realized she had all but forgotten the paternal Nishikino was still there. Stealing a quick side glance, she found him quietly observing the couple. If she was reading things correctly, his aura had warmed somewhat, though was no less calculating than before; gears were obviously grinding behind his stoic expression.

“Your mother and I will meet you at the table.” Dr. Nishikino stated. “I’ll go find her.”

As Maki took her hand to lead her through the house, Nico noticed her grip was tighter than normal. A lot tighter. Maki was more nervous than she was letting on. Just how worried was she about her father’s approval of their relationship? Nico already knew Maki’s mother was wholly supportive, as was her own, but the only things she really knew about Maki’s father were that he had high expectations for his daughter and was not particularly fond of idols.

“Wait, Maki-chan,” Nico said, stopping in the hallway before they reached their destination “hold up a moment.”

“Eh?” Maki uttered, not seeming to notice the change and almost yanking Nico’s arm out of the socket before being held to a halt. “Nico-chan?”

“What’s wrong?”

“Wh-what do you mean?”

“Maki.” Nico fixed her girlfriend with a steady stare. The redhead returned the gaze, though was far more furtive, and when she began to fidget with her hair, Nico reached out and gently touched her hand. “What’s wrong?” She repeated.

Maki released a puff of air. “I’m nervous, alright? I… I just really want Papa to like you.”

“I’m nervous too.” Nico admitted, her thoughts racing through things she could say to calm them both down. “But you know, he didn’t turn me away at the door, so that’s gotta count for something, right?” She paused for a moment. “Well, technically, he did, but that was before he realized why I was here, but he still let me in, so that has to mean he’s willing to give me a chance, right?”

“I just… I know he’ll bring up idols, and…”

“Maki-chan.” Nico took a step in to close some of the distance between them. “Nico didn’t become the No. 1 Idol in the Universe without learning a thing or two about reading her audience.”

“…” Maki’s expression wasn’t one of disbelief but of continued concern.

“Look, I’m not going to lie to your father about my career of choice, but I’m also not going to try to convert him into a fan or convince him that idols are the most amazing thing ever, even if I believe that myself.”

“I know…”

“And I am attending college and aim to get a degree.” Nico continued. “Sure it won’t be a fancy medical degree like yours, but I’m getting it while still being an idol. So that’s also gotta count for something, right?”

“Papa does respect hard work.”

“And Nico is a hard worker.”

“I know.” Maki affirmed, dropping her hand before leaning her head into Nico’s hand. “Nico-chan is one of the hardest workers I know when it comes to working toward her goals. It’s always admired, and envied, about you.”

Nico scoffed. “You say that as if you don’t work hard as well, Maki-chan.”

“Mmm…” Maki hummed in a tone that implied she was paying attention to something other than the conversation at hand.

Hand… Maki closed her eyes and nuzzled her cheek against Nico’s hand, causing her to open her fingers to increase contact. It should be fine here, right? Nico moved in the rest of the way and tilted her chin up. Maki followed her hand as Nico guided her down. Their lips touched and…

“Oh dear…” A startled voice uttered, causing the couple to jolt away from each other. “I’m terribly sorry to interrupt, Ojou-sama.”

“I-It’s f-fine…” A blushing Maki stumbled through.

Nico recognized the woman one of the newer members of the Nishikino house staff. She was responsible for general assistance wherever needed.

“Welcome, Yazawa-san.” The woman said with a polite bow, but when she righted herself, her expression was thoughtful. “Although, now that you’re dating Ojou-sama, perhaps Yazawa-sama is more appropriate?”

“Just Nico is fine.” Nico assured.

“Right, anyway, I’m on my away to retrieve some bottles of Cloudy Bay at the behest of the master.”

“White?” Maki inquired.

The woman nodded. “We’ve prepared a delightful shrimp pasta for the main course.” She turned to Nico. “Ojou-sama has informed us of your talent in the kitchen, so we hope to meet your standards, Yazawa-sama.”

Guess the new title is going to stick. Nico thought to herself. “I’m sure it will be great.”

“The caprese salads should be ready if you wish to head to the dining room now.”

“Tomatoes, of course.” Nico couldn’t help commenting.

“Yes.” The staff member confirmed. “We have also been informed of one of your preferences, so for dessert, we will be serving traditional crepes with lemon and sugar.”

“Sounds delicious.”

The woman smiled before bowing again to excuse herself and hurrying down the hall.

“Is there anything wrong with your father requesting white wine?” Nico asked, trying to gauge her girlfriend’s reaction.

“I don’t believe so.” Maki shook her head. “White is better paired with seafood, after all.”

“Yes, but…?”

“No, sorry, I didn’t mean it like that.” Maki shook her head again. “Cloudy Bay is actually one of Papa’s favorites. He’s quite fond of the New Zealand area in general.”

“One of his favorites? That’s gotta be a good sign, right?”

“I hope so.”

Nico took a deep breath, held it for a moment, then released it slowly. “Well, the salad is apparently ready, so we may as well get to it.”

Maki nodded before taking Nico’s hand once more to complete their journey to the dining room. Nico noted, thankfully, that her girlfriend’s grip was far more relaxed this time around.

Upon arrival, the couple was greeted by the Nishikino estate manager who showed them to their seats. Shortly thereafter, Maki’s parents arrived and took their own seats. Next the chef and her assistant from before arrived with the first course. Finally, the first bottle of wine was uncorked and the meal was underway.

“So, Yazawa-san,” Dr. Nishikino stated, drawing Nico’s attention “you’ve known Maki since high school, am I correct?”

“Yes.” Nico affirmed. “It was Maki-chan’s first year and my third.”

“I see. And were you one of the girls who helped convince her to become an idol?”

Well, that didn’t take long for the subject to come up. Nico thought to herself. Straight to the point, I guess, unlike a certain dishonest daughter of his…

“Actually, it was the other way around.” Nico replied.

“Oh?”

“I was in a disillusioned and jaded state back then, after my first attempt at forming a group fell through.” Nico admitted. “And it was Honoka and Maki-chan and the others that pulled me out of my funk and helped me remember why I adored idols so much and wanted so desperately to be one.” She couldn’t help smiling as fond memories flooded her mind. “I really do owe them all a debt of gratitude for that.”

“I see. And you are still an idol now?”

“Part time.” Nico nodded. “I was able to find a small production company that was willing to work around my classes. It fills up my schedule and keeps me busy, but also lets me keep my foot in the door.”

“Because you intend to go full time even once you’ve earned a degree?”

Nico wasn’t particularly fond of the wording of the question and had to resist the urge to call it out; had it been Maki and they were in a more casual setting, she likely would have done so.

“I do.” She said aloud instead. “And once I retire from being an idol, the degree will help me find other employment.”

“And what type of employment might that be?”

“Something still in the industry, if possible.” Out of the corner of her eye, Nico caught a suppressed expression of surprise on her girlfriend’s face. Understandable, as it was news to Maki as well. “Choreographer, trainer, costume design, heck maybe even a producer, someday. Basically, I’d like to pay forward my debt by helping the next generations of idols.”

“And one is able to earn a living in such an industry?”

“Others have before me; I believe I can as well.” Nico gave another glance to the redhead beside her. “I may not have the skills to become a life-saving doctor like Maki, but I can still do my part to make the world a better place; one smile at a time.”

“Medicine, law, business, engineering,” Maki’s mother suddenly spoke up “these are noble pursuits and necessary to sustain life. But poetry, beauty, romance, love, these are what we stay alive for.” She smiled at Nico. “I believe Mr. Keating’s words hold true for many things. Music, painting, writing, really the arts as a whole are what make life worth living.”

“Mr. Keating?” Nico inquired.

“The lead character of Dead Poets Society.” Maki responded. “We should watch it sometime, Nico-chan; it’s really good.”

“And it is because the arts are so important” Dr. Nishikino continued “that my husband and I strive to support them as much as possible. In fact, we will be attending a performance of The Barber of Seville late next month and have not even started sending out invites to fill our box. You two are more than welcome to join us.”

At this, Maki’s eyes lit up. “Next month? When?”

“I’ll message you the dates later, but it’s a weekend so you should be able to work it into your study schedule.”

Maki turned to Nico with an expression rivaling the one she wore when December started. “Do you want to come with me?”

Nico smiled at her girlfriend’s excitement and word choice. “I’d love to. But where have I heard that title before?”

“From my playlist.”

“Tchaikovsky?” Nico made sure to pronounce the name as correctly as she could.

Maki shook her head. “Rossini.”

Nico racked her memory. “Cinderella?”

“Yes, different opera, same composer.”

“One smile at a time, you said?” Maki’s father suddenly stated.

“Oh, yeah.” Nico recalled her words from a few minutes ago.

The barest hint of something tugged at the edges of Dr. Nishikino’s lips. “Well, if nothing else, you have succeeded in making my daughter smile.” He nodded toward Maki, directing Nico’s attention back to the mentioned reaction. “And as my wife and I can attest, that is not always the easiest of tasks.”

“… P-Papa…” Maki offered a mild protest as pink dusted her cheeks and her mother chuckled.

Nico couldn’t help a smile of her own as she turned back to Maki’s father. “I think I’m up to the challenge.”

“Indeed.”

Wait… wasn’t this a bit hypocritical? Nico suddenly thought. Why claim to be a patron of the arts while simultaneously disallowing one’s daughter from being an artist?

On occasion, Maki had bemoaned being railroaded into the medical career while her dreams of being a professional pianist were dismissed as a passing fancy. Yet she hadn’t acknowledged the contradiction. Was she even aware of it? With the level of reverence Maki held for her parents, Nico could easily imagine her remaining oblivious; well, that and Maki’s overall naivete in many aspects of life.

Should she tell her? Was it even Nico’s place say such a thing? Nico was no stranger to speaking her mind when it came to her own interests, or those of her siblings. And she was dating Maki now, which meant defending her girlfriend’s best interests also shouldn’t surprise anyone. Or at least what she believed to be Maki’s best interests, as her parents obviously felt differently.

“On a related topic, Yazawa-san, Maki has told us much about your shared love of music.” Dr. Nishikino continued.

Nico derailed her own train of thought and refocused her attention on the conversation at hand. “It is one of our favorite subjects to discuss… or argue over.”

“And you often listen together while studying.”

“I believe music helps keep us in a good mood, which then helps us study.” Nico explained.

“I think we can all attest to the positive effects of music.” The Nishikino matriarch said.

“Indeed.” Her husband agreed.

“And Maki-chan has helped expand my appreciation of other genres of music.” Nico turned to her girlfriend. “And I’d like to think I’ve expanded hers as well.”

Maki nodded an affirmation with a smile.

“Maki also has told us that she often helps you study.”

“She does.” Nico confirmed. “Maki is incredibly smart. Even if she doesn’t know the answer to a problem, she is often able to logic things through and help guide me in the right direction. Honestly, if I didn’t already know she was going to be a doctor, I’d’ve suggested she become a teacher.”

“Now that would be an interesting career choice.” Maki’s mother said thoughtfully.

“Hrm…” Her father seemed less than convinced. “So, do you help her study in return?”

“Well…” Nico started.

“Nico-chan helps in other ways, Papa.” Maki offered. “Even if she isn’t able to help me with a given topic, she helps ensure I take regular breaks so I can come back with better focus. She makes sure I’m hydrated and helps track my nutrition and is quite insistent on keeping a decent sleep schedule. Honestly, she’s better at taking care of me than I am.” Her eyes widened as her admission registered in her mind.

“That’s right,” Her mother continued with the thoughtfulness from earlier, though Nico was sure she detected some teasing undertones “wasn’t it Nico that saved Maki from herself back on her birthday?”

“Mama…” Maki was losing a battle in trying to keep down another blush.

“Maki is very diligent in her studies.” Nico stated. “And I’m happy to help where I can.”

“Hmm… sounds like another couple we know, right Dear?” Dr. Nishikino sent a sly smile toward her husband, the teasing more obvious now.

“… Perhaps.” Maki’s father conceded.

Was it Nico’s imagination or did she just catch another glimpse into the source of some of Maki’s behavior? The Nishikino patriarch wasn’t the easiest to read behind his stoic mask, but his daughter wasn’t always straightforward with her emotions either and Nico had figured her out fairly well by this point.

As far as Nico was concerned, the rest of dinner went quite smoothly. Once Maki’s father got past his initial questions, he remained mostly quite. It ended up being Nico and Maki’s mother carrying the bulk of the conversations, which honestly didn’t really surprise Nico all that much. Maki’s mother inquired about Nico’s family, though Nico suspected she already knew most of the things anyway and it was more for Maki’s father’s sake. Still, Nico wasn’t about to pass up the opportunity to brag about her amazing siblings and about how proud of them she was in taking care of the household and themselves in her absence.

After dinner, Maki’s parents excused themselves to finish up the day’s emails and paperwork. Nico couldn’t help but wonder if that would be something Maki would end up doing once she became more involved with the hospital administrative duties.

As for Nico herself, she joined Maki in the Nishikino music room for the previously promised private concert. There, she had happily settled into the best seat in the house, next her girlfriend on the bench. All in all, it was a wonderful conclusion to what she believed to be a wonderful night. However, as confident as she was, she still wanted to be sure, so she made a mental note to ask the one she believed would know best, or at least better than herself.

“So, how did I do?” Nico asked, once she was sure they were well beyond earshot of anyone even remotely associated with the Nishikino residence.

“You were perfect, Nico-chan.” Maki responded with a smile that sent a warm feeling through Nico’s chest. “I think Papa likes you and is fine with us dating, and we already know how Mama feels.”

Thank the gods… Nico thought with relief. And with that load off her mind, “Of course I was perfect,” she decided to get in some teasing of her own, after spending the evening watching Dr. Nishikino do so “Nico is always perfect.” She grinned and held up her signature gesture.

“Id…” Maki’s typical retort was interrupted by a yawn.

Nico laughed before continuing the tradition. “You love it.”

“… Maybe…” Maki managed to get out as her energy seemed to be leaving her rapidly.

Nico leaned her shoulder into her girlfriend. “Steady there, Maki-chan, you going to be alright getting back to your dormroom?”

“Eh? But, I thought…”

“You thought…?”

“I thought I was going to your place?”

“Well you can, obviously you’re always welcome, but…” Nico motioned to Maki’s outfit, taking the moment to enjoy the view as well “I figured since you don’t have a change of clothes, you wouldn’t want to put this back on in the morning.”

“It’s fine…” Maki stifled another yawn. “I just want to go home…” She blinked and shook her head. “I mean your home… Yours… yours and Nozomi’s, I mean… ueeehhh…”

Nico chuckled. “It’s your home too, Maki-chan.” By the gods did she want to kiss the redhead whose cheeks were now matching her hair, but even this late at night, there was a risk of being seen. Later. She promised herself. “Nozomi and my names may be on the lease,” she said instead “but that doesn’t make it any less home to you or Eli.”

“T-thank you…”

“You don’t have to thank me for that; that much is normal for couples, right? But you know, Eli does leave a lot of stuff in Nozomi’s room…” Nico thought aloud “perhaps I should clear out a drawer and make some room in the closet for you.”

“I’d like that.” Maki smiled. “I’ll be sure to bring some stuff over soon.”

“Good. For tonight, you can borrow your usual sleep shirt and we’ll figure out something else in the morning. I think the outfit I lent you the other day is clean, but if not, maybe Nozomi has something that will fit you.”

Maki nodded.

“Then it’s settled.” Nico took Maki’s hand as they boarded the train together. “Let’s go home.”

Author’s Note Continued in Followup Post

#NicoMaki #Nishikino Maki #Yazawa Nico #How to Handle a Nico #Love Live #fanfic

[drethanramslay]

90 with MC and Rafael. Thank you!!

Thanks for the ask, anon 😉

You can find the prompt list here.

#90-“Can…can you come over?”

Warning: it's fluff, angst and long 😅 also it's kind of based on my raf x mc fic

Author's note: The MC's name is Addison Jones. I usually use different names of the MCs for different pairings :)

Taglist: @miyakokurono @trappedinfandoms @openheart12 @sekizincimektup @junggoku @ethandaddyramsey @edith-eggs1 @ethanramseysgirl (let me know if you want to be added or removed from the tag list 😊)

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"Have a great day babe." Sora said as she kissed him on the lip.

Raf just grinned and kissed her back. "You too Sora. Kick some surgical ass out there, okay?"

"You know it babe." She winked and walked away. Raf watched her walk into the hospital, small smile on his lips.

He was about to leave but his eyes fell on the familiar blonde, sitting on the bench in the ambulance bay, eating a bagel.

"Hey Addy!" He said as he settled in beside her.

"Raf, if you even thing I'm going to give you my Nutella bagel, try again." She said as she continued to scroll through her phone.

"You wound me Addy. You can't even say a normal 'good morning' to me." Raf pouted. She just rolled her eyes and took a big bite of her bagel.

"You are big boy, I think you can deal with a little heartbreak." Raf winced but luckily Addison didn't notice.

It had been three months since she confessed her love for him. He wanted to run to her and say those words back but it was hard. He was afraid of what he had with Addison. The feelings he felt for her, were so intense that it left him dazed and confused.

Sora was his safety net, the one who will always love him irrespective of what happens.

You love Sora not Addy. Rafael chanted it like a mantra, hoping that it would nail into his brain. But, how do you fight off that feeling when the love for a certain person is ingrained into your DNA?

"Hello Raf?!! Anybody there?" She knocked his forehead. "Yup nobody. As empty as a coconut." She ruffled his hair, like she used to when they would lie naked in bed. She just wishes to turn back when he was hers, but that won't ever happen.

Addy, he made his choice. He chose Sora, you can do nothing but, respect that..

"Shut up. I have more IQ in my fingers that you have in your brains." He shoved her and Addy laughed. "Keep lying to yourself, superman."

She looked down on her watch and got up. "Ight imma head out. Don't get yourself killed big man."

"Don't stress yourself out too much Addy." He called out, with a huge grin in his face.

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It had been three days since their last interaction and Rafael hadn't seen the blonde. He initially brushed it off but when he spoke to Lahela the other day, he got to know she hadn't been coming.

"Hey Sora, have you seen Addy at work?" He asked nonchalantly as he drove her to work after having a late lunch together.

"Huh? No, haven't seen her... Anyways who cares?!" Sora laughed but Raf felt a pinch in his heart, hearing Sora say that to his- Addy.

He just shook his head and stayed quiet. He knew if he brought it up, they would fight.

As she got down from the car she turned towards him. "Don't forget, today's taco Tuesday."

He gave her a tight smile but his mind was wandering off to Addison. He was getting worried about her. He took out his phone and typed a message-

He put his phone on the seat next to him and pulled out of the curb to his work.

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It had been three hours since and she had still not responded. It was quite unlike her. That girl was obsessed with her phone and wouldn't be found dead without it. He had sent a couple of more texts but the lack of response just made him antsy.

So when his phone pinged and he saw her name he immediately unlocked the phone.

"Addy?" He spoke into the phone.

He heard her clear her throat. "Um hi."

"What's wrong?"

She chuckled dryly. "Nothing... Everything? I don't know..." Her voice cracked at the end.

"You know you can talk to me...right?"

"I- I can't on the phone... Can..can you come over?" She was breathing heavily, as if she was on the verge of crying.

"I'm on my way."

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When he entered the penthouse, Sienna looked worried. "Thank God you are here man." Elijah said as he opened the door. "What's wrong? How is she?" Raf asked frantically.

"She hadn't any food today and has been holed up in her room since yesterday."

"What's the date today?"Raf asked.

"18th. Why?"

Holy shit, how could I forget.

He knocked and entered her room, finding Addy on the floor looking at the photo album. She was wearing a 'guns n roses' shirt, which looked way to old and some shorts.

"Hey." She looked up and gave a small smile.

He went and sat down next to her. "Look at this picture." She pointed to a picture in which her twin brother and her were standing in the backyard, making a snowman.

"We were only five, but we had the best snowman on the block. Andrew was always the creative one. Hell, you should have see the cakes he baked and the art on them would be so beautiful that you wouldn't even want to cut it."

Flipping the page, she showed him another photo. He was holding a can whipped cream and Addy was lying asleep. But, the focus of the picture was the gigantic moustache on her face. "Even when he had leukemia, Drew always pulled such pranks on me. God, I was so pissed that day. We had a full blown out food fight in the dorm, which ended in him smelling like stale whipped cream and me having rotten egg smell, coming from my hair. But we always made up. He was my twin. We would always be joined at the hip. He was my ride and die."

She closed the album and tears streamed down her face. Clutching the shirt, which belonged to Andrew she spoke. "I miss him so damn much... It hurts. I thought I would go meet him, but God I couldn't enter go past the gate of the cemetery. It's been 5 years, but I STILL can't see his headstone."

Raf wrapped his arm around her shoulder and squeezed. "I'm not gonna say something like 'it's okay' or 'everything will be fine'. It's not okay and nothing will ever be the same. Just because time had passed, it doesn't mean that it will not hurt. Yes, the pain will gradually decrease but... It's okay to feel. Just reminds us that we are human."

He tucked her blonde hair behind her ear. "It's okay you couldn't go to meet him. Nobody is gonna judge you. People deal with grief differently. You dealt with it by becoming the best doctor in the hospital. And it's the small gestures that matter. You are honouring him with happy memories and I'm pretty sure that he is happy wherever he is."

He got up and walked to the adjacent bathroom and got a damp washcloth with a bowl filled with water. He lifted Addison in his arms and placed her gently on the bed. He kept the photo album on her bedside table.

He gently wiped her tear stained face. The cool cloth, helped her cool down the vortex of emotions in her chest. "Addy, you are the strongest person I've known. And Drew would be proud to see what his sister is doing."

He wiped her neck and her collarbones, where sweat had accumulated. This was nothing sexual. It was just Raf taking care of her.

He dipped the washcloth in the cold water and wrung it. He wiped her arms, his hands brushing the tattoo on the inside of her wrist. It was a simple one. Just the name 'Andrew' inscribed in an infinity sign.

Addison sighed, as her fingers traced the tattoo. Raf got up and walked out of the room to keep the bowl and washcloth. He returned in some time with a plate full of steaming pasta.

"Is that for me?" Addison asked as her stomach grumbled.

"Nope. If you think I'm gonna share my dinner with you, try again." He teased her.

She smacked his bicep and he just laughed out loud. "Yes sweetheart, its for you. Now open your mouth-"

"That's what he said." Addy snickered.

"Get out."

They laughed together as they ate the pasta. After cleaning up, he was just trucking her in, when Addison asked, "Will you stay?" giving him her puppy eyes.

His phone buzzed and he knew it was Sora, complaining about how he didn't make it. He didn't want to go home and have another fight.

"I'm not going anywhere Addy. I'm always here for you." He says as he snuggled into her blankets, feeling her warm petite body, lying on his chest.

Just the way it's always been.

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Today is the last day I am taking requests so don't hesitate to drop in an ask 😊

#my asks #anushka writes #choices stories we play #choices stories you play #choices oh #choices #playchoices #open heart mc #open heart 2 #open heart #ohsy #oh rafael #rafael aveiro #open heart rafael #rafael x mc #writing prompts #Pixelberry

[howwelldoyouknowyourmoon]

Dying on PLA (Pure Love Alliance)

This post was written by a former BC who questioned an authority figure on PLA and experience life-threatening consequences.

I’ll start with this: the moment I was dying was when I felt my soul sinking into the ground during the PLA 2000 tour, in a lavish town house owned by The Unification Church in Kensington, one of the most expensive neighborhoods in London, UK. I was 16 when this all happened. For some reason, my soul wasn’t rising as you might imagine when people die, probably because it was too tired, instead, it sank. I was in a sleeping bag and surrounded by 300 other kids all in sleeping bags, lined up like goods in the grocery store with little room to walk. Asleep, I slowly realized that I was sinking through my sleeping bag, past my body, into the oriental rug and through hardwood floor, deep into the ground, creeping further and further below the foundation of the building. So I knew I was dying—but I didn’t feel the least bit sad or upset. In fact I was relieved—even ecstatic. It meant that the torment from my supposed fellow BCs would be over, that this pain from the infection raging through my body that left my neck, arms, wrists wrapped in puss filled bandages, and my body so fatigued (so. fatigued.) would be over. The ground felt cool, and was getting colder, and it was really actually quite refreshing.

How great would that be to not have to wake up? Who cares if these people found a dead girl in her sleeping bag in the morning. Good for them. They might be surprised but they’d get to spin some fantastic story about my soul paying indemnity for the crimes that my Japanese ancestors committed against the Koreans; that’s apparently how they were explaining my mysterious illness to friends— an illness that had my upper body oozing a relentless and embarrassing flow of thick yellow puss, that had me changing my bandages every hour if I had the energy and a clean bandage on me. I found out that this story was making the rounds through the 300 or so BCs who were also on that tour. Before that, someone who I went to summer camp with for years, actually asked nonplussed, if I was currently struggling with Satan. Another story that others hinted to was that I was fallen. Writer’s note: At that point in time, like many of you, I had not so much as held a boy’s hand, let alone kissed anyone, made out and definitely never lost my virginity. I was precocious, spirited, ballsy—like any teenager trying to find humor in strange places. Most things I did was for the sake of a good laugh. But I was in my heart a total straight arrow, and I believed in the church, seriously, like the best or worst of them.

On this trip, there were also elders who took me aside from the group dinners and recounted the amazing stories about my dad and what a great guy he was at the religious seminary, the New Yorker Hotel, Belvedere, etc. And then they would say; Why would you disappoint him so horribly?

I wouldn’t know exactly how much I was disappointing him because I was never allowed to call him or my mom, or make any phone calls for that matter. I was being guarded 24/7, my passport was locked up, I wasn’t allowed to sleep much (I would be kept up later and woken up earlier than the others), nor take showers, which caused, what I would later find to be a trio of life-threatening infections coursing through my body. I had a very different experience from other BCs who were free to eat, shower, and sleep.

When I felt like my soul must have been half a mile below ground. I stopped, because this was it. Then I felt something big—bigger than me, bigger than everything and everyone around me, pulling me up with the utmost urgency, and I knew that this big thing gave a damn— even if I didn’t. I snapped back to my body with a whiplash that woke me up, panting, freaking out. Even if I didn’t care to live (and I really didn’t), even if these 300 other people around me, even if my religion didn’t care, God, the universe, this force, without a doubt, cared violently. This is when I realized that God did not move exclusively through organized religion, he/it moves and vibrates in anything, in everything. So my direct relationship with this force was felt for the first time under those floorboards, separate from and despite the machinations of my religion.

I immediately woke up and saw in the reflection of this gigantic ornate gold mirror on the wall opposite me, what looked like at least 20-30 white, blue glowing shadows, all very tall, standing around me and the dozens of sleeping BCs around me. Who they were, I’m not sure, I was delirious, and more importantly I was terrified that I had almost died, and so willingly. I couldn’t go back to sleep. But now I had a fire in my stomach, to get through this alive and a rabid indignity against those who’d put me in this position, including myself. I would do right by the universe, by God, by surviving this.

I got here by making the mistake of questioning the director of the PLA on the modus operandi of the Pure Love Alliance, on Day 1 of the tour. My fellow BCs didn’t make the mistake of vocalizing the inconsistencies in the logic of posing as a non-denominational group when we were 99% BCs, they didn’t stand up for the not even 1 percent non-BC kids who didn’t have a choice but to read the Divine Principle and join our prayers. If you are too precocious with too many rhetorical questions for elders, you’ll see just how nasty and how quickly the machine will mobilize against you.

Why. During the previous PLA tour of 1999 I remember lying about our religious association when being interviewed by the local news in Birmingham, AL. We were vetted and instructed to withhold our association with the Unification Church so when a reporter asked me what I was, I responded “Lutheran"— my father’s previous religion before joining the church.

I hate lying about something as grand and dumb as my religion. I didn’t think that we needed to constantly lie, it frustrated me always having to hide the church from my school friends and I wanted to do away with the smoke and mirrors and live openly about this. So at the beginning of the 2000 tour that would be marching through the US in July and then marching through Europe in August, I went up to the director and I asked him: why can’t we be forthright about who we are, if we’re truly non-denominational?

I didn’t immediately realize what a total coward he was, I just thought he was an adult, he must have some good answers. But he pandered with half answers, trotted me around the ring with half baked logic all while getting increasingly upset and dismissive: you just don’t understand; this is much too complicated for you to understand (more upset); this is God’s will; do you want to go against God’s will? And I responded with: I think it’s pretty simple, God doesn’t need us to lie. We should be honest to the press and other churches about being associated with the UC. Otherwise we should stop calling ourselves non-denominational, right? The conversation went nowhere and I eventually walked away.

I was probably earmarked as being a troublemaker but it wasn’t that bad. At least in the beginning, I hung out with my BC friends, some of whom I’d been growing up with and all was well during the tour through the US.

It was when I noticed that there were 3 or 4 non-BC kids on the tour—how they were roped in to hang out with us nutjobs for two weeks, I’m not sure, but I know everyone looked at them with a special wonder. They were special to us because we were showing them that there was this great camaraderie and communal life that we had together amongst ourselves and we really believed that we were letting them in on something special.

I noticed that while we were reading the Divine Principle and praying in circles, they were expected to do the same with us, without any opportunity to decide for themselves whether or not they wanted to in the first place. This would be a small but important gesture to extend for any organization that called itself non-denominational to the outside world; to accept and respect people of other faiths; to let them have the opportunity to pray in their own way if they needed to. It really bothered me because it seemed wildly disrespectful and a bit dishonest. If I were traveling with a Christian youth group, wouldn’t I want the right to read the DP and pray my way at 5 am in the morning on Sundays?

It became a breaking point when late one night on a tour bus in Europe, I brought up the issue again during a bus reading of the DP, and I got pissed. I openly pointed out to the bus leaders the hypocrisy of a so-called non-denominational youth group posing as such to the press, all while not respecting the faiths of others on the tour.They said that this is how it’s done, that everyone does the same thing so that they can stick to the strict schedule to get through the tour. This is the will and mission of the PLA, this is God’s will, and we need to see it through. Then I said: If they aren’t allowed to choose, than I refuse to read the DP and refuse to join prayers until they do have the choice.

I’m not really sure why I cared so much but it was because I could see my bus leaders acknowledging my logic, I could see behind their eyes that they did. But they towed the line and refused to acknowledge that there was any right. But my refusal to pray or read DP, they took very, very seriously—yet in my mind, I wasn’t doing anything drastic, I wasn’t leaving the church. That would be crazy! I was just taking a stand.

These non-BC kids were, at least outwardly, complacent. But let’s be honest we were all 14, 15, 16 years old and expected to do everything en masse, but why shouldn’t they/we have the choice to read the DP or not? What was faith if it wasn’t a deliberate, and educated choice? Shouldn’t anyone be allowed the right to question things, if only to return with stronger answers?

As soon as I had this fight on the bus, that was when the horrible things really began. I was always being shaken awake on long rides when everyone else was allowed to fall asleep, even if only for an hour or two. Lack of sleep breaks you quickly. I wasn’t allowed to sleep with my friends, instead I always had sometimes two unnis sleeping and walking with me. I could mingle with others, but I was always being watched by them close by. I was escorted to bathrooms but never allowed to take a shower, they said I could take one later, but later never came until it was too late, after my infections had become so severe they couldn’t exactly ignore it.

It was 3 in the morning when the buses filled with BC teenagers and our wranglers parked on the curve of the fucking German autobahn to let us out. We were released into the cold night by our demented but well-meaning leaders, searching along the curve of the freeway in the wet grass and mud trying to find our suitcases. Let me repeat, 3 am, 300+ teenagers trudging in the dark along a sharp curve of the German autobahn before entering what, in my mind, was the Black Forest.

I don’t even remember who was in charge of me at that point but it seemed to be predetermined that one sister became my handler in Germany. She came out of the blue, barking at me to move out, and personally marched me into that forest, literally behind me nipping at my heels, always on the assumption that I would flee sideways, off the trail, deeper into the forest, to what, I don’t know. I had no desire to leave, I was just hungry and exhausted. When we reached the top it was a huge building that wasn’t even fully constructed with insulation hanging out and utility lights haphazardly nailed and dangling from the ceilings. It was in a huge large barn like space where we convened in a long line to finally get some split pea soup as dinner, and by the time I finally got some, someone knocked it out of my hand, on purpose? Who the fuck knows. I would have cried but I was too tired and I don’t need sympathy. Some other BCs said that was too bad, but my handler wouldn’t let me go back in line to get more. Instead, we had to pitch our tents in the mud incline below the barn, my tent mate was of course my ever-watchful unni/handler.

I’m not exactly sure how the tent stood up, it was lopsided because of the mud and the wet grass, and the incline, but once that was done I went to go brush my teeth, and saw behind the barn, a bunch of white statues staggered in a terrifying symmetry along the hill; literally, I don’t think I’d ever seen anything as frightening as those statues in the moonlight. They were the true family, ghostly white and with their arms outstretched like they were dancing, I went up to them unsure as to what they were. They were smooth and so white but when I touched them, they weren’t marble, just hollow and plastic—creepy, empty lawn furniture. And for the first time in my life I saw them as this insidious, careless force who either had no idea, or simply had no compassion for the ramifications of their will and franchise. That was the night when my perspective on everything started to shift.

I wasn’t allowed to shower the next day even though I could see my other friends lining up with their towels. And I was always ferried away from communal meals, to have a one on one with some important elder who would shame me for an hour. And it worked. I remember one guy telling me with beady eyes, rather emphatically, how disappointing this will be for my father, who’s such a good guy, everyone loves him, I don’t know him, but everyone loves him— when he finds out how I’ve been working against the mission. I really tried hard to imagine if my dad would be proud or disappointed in me for taking a stand but my thoughts fizzled into a murky question mark while I stared at the white statues now in daylight. I didn’t know the answer and I was so tired, exhausted and hungry, and I was beginning to slowly not care as much.

But I also began to resent these elders for believing that I was working against them, I wasn’t! I was only asking good questions! I was on their side, and I believed I was still a good person.

Instead of not really being able to hang out with my friends, I sensed they were also avoiding me. I remember incredulous looks. It got super lonely fast.

It was when one elder oppa along with a whole slew of younger oppas in training crowded around me in a circle in front of everyone after one march to give me a talk. "Stop setting a bad example to the other sisters, this is your last warning.” Their vague warning was made abundantly clear. Even if it wasn’t true, my generation believed that I was fallen and that’s why I was acting out…

At that point I didn’t even consider the sheer stupidity in this non-linear logic, clearly, I ruined my chances of a good match! That was the end for me. No one would want to be blessed to me and that was when I began to really lose it because it never occurred to me that I wouldn’t have an arranged marriage, that my trajectory would be anything less than what was expected of me, or any different from anyone else. Even when I was asking these people seemingly simple rhetorical questions, it didn’t mean that I wanted to leave. But I was beginning to realize that it would be impossible to have a happily ever after ending in the church.

I don’t remember France, France was a blur, I just felt sluggish and horrible, light sensitive the entire time, still wasn’t allowed to sleep much and was barred from the showers. I was hiding a nasty rash that was breaking out all over my skin by wearing a cardigan, the only cardigan that I had brought on the trip.

My illness was getting bad when we arrived in the posh neighborhood of Kensington, London. The buses unloaded this shocking fire hazard number of teenagers into one townhouse that strangely appeared to have a bullet proof vestibule and a security camera at the entrance which only added to my feeling that I was being held captive. Meanwhile, nobody else seemed to care about this detail, the fact that we were in a fucking compound. You wouldn’t know it from the unassuming white exterior that blended in with the row of townhouses exactly like all the others in the neighborhood.

I remember after marching through Leicester Square, my subgroup broke off to Trafalgar Square where we shouted our testimonies at one of the fountains and anyone else who would care to stop, but no one did. My leader wasn’t really convinced by my conviction to Pure Love. It was a bit hard, being exhausted, with a fever, to be shouting about Pure Love all while being slut shamed by my generation for no good reason at all. I didn’t really feel like shouting, I just wanted rest and to be alone.

My illness was getting from bad to worse quickly, I had a fever, felt hot, then clammy cold, sweating bullets, in addition to huge open sores spreading on my neck and arms, but whenever I asked to see a Dr. they wouldn’t allow it, I later realized it wasn’t because of money, even after I offered to pay myself, it was because they were afraid that I would talk about everything happening on the tour. It hadn’t even occurred to me to go public with any of this. With what? I didn’t know that there was a story, how bad it really was until afterward.

I did finally get to take a shower in London, I think because that was more reasonable than covering up a dead girl, probably. But the shower didn’t help at that point. Whatever was happening with the sores, it was also in my blood, I felt exhausted, jumpy, crazy, sensitive to light, miserable. When they wouldn’t let me see a doctor, when the pus was spilling out of my bandages and running down my neck, running down my arms, like in some horror film, I begged them to at least let me go to a pharmacy to buy bandages, Neosporin and hydrogen peroxide. They agreed so long as a brother escorted me, a tall one who could easily outrun me if it came to it.

Maybe it was because they were making such a huge deal to keep me on watch that I began to fantasize about getting away. Not to tell on anyone or anything, with no agenda in mind, I just wanted to go home. I asked if I could get my passport and my ticket to try and go home early but that was not possible. I just wanted to get away and so on our way to one rally, I had this brilliant idea and I jumped out of a subway train and onto the platform, I only ran 5 steps before I was yanked back into the train by my unni. After that everyone thought I was totally nuts and definitely pure evil. I had no idea where I was planning to go, I think I was just going to ask directions to a hospital— at that point my sores on my upper body were just getting bigger and were oozing, no amount of soaking the sores in hydrogen peroxide or neosporin would help. It was embarrassing because it was pus and blood soaking through my bandages and into my shirts that I could only rotate so many times. People on the subway and in public were furtively staring at me, they probably smelled the disease on me, but I couldn’t ask for their help.

In my mind today, my older self rewrites the history of that trip. In my older self’s version: I’m unstoppable even though I’m sick. In a fit of manic strength, I jump out of the train, out run my guard, and I don’t stop running until I get to a doctor or to a police station, whichever happens first — then I seek protection at the US embassy despite not having a passport or money on me, and then I get to all major news outlets and I expose this youth group for their psychological and physical abuse, and for misleading the public on the PLA. By doing so, I set a chain of events on an international scale that would bring to light all of the questionable things we’ve had to quietly endure. I put a small chink in the church’s armor and it all comes crashing down. I save my fellow BCs from a life without an educated choice to believe or not, from the waste of time spent fundraising for a thankless institution while their families struggle to get by, in questionable matchings, in a sad, vicious cycle.

In actuality, after nearly dying in a sleeping bag, I’m too tired but crazy alert and a day and a half later I’m somehow on my way to Heathrow airport via the subway. On the way there I fall asleep hugging my backpack, only to wake up to find that other passengers are just looking at me horrified; my bandages had soaked through again, I was pouring pus onto my backpack. I’m so embarrassed for alarming these strangers but there’s nothing I can do, I had changed my bandages only an hour before hand, right before leaving the townhouse. All I can do is zip up my anorak and hope I can rinse these out later.

Finally at Heathrow, I’m handed my plane ticket and finally, my passport and it turns out that the tour is over. I can’t even believe it but the elders, including my handler, are walking away to catch their own planes. I curb my hysteria and get to a pay phone where I finally call my parents in Seattle on a collect call, and I’m freaking out, I’m worried that someone will come out from nowhere and cut the line, capture me, throw me in a white van, what with my luck.

My parents are so happy to hear from me! How are you kiddo? I have to fight to keep from sobbing, I’m shattering and yelling, focusing on just one thing: that they have to get me to a doctor as soon as I land, I keep repeating this until my dad promises and repeats this to me. I’m scared I just might drop dead right then and there. Once I’m appeased, I take deep breaths to cool down and I ask my mom if anyone in her family did anything to the Koreans during the occupation. She doesn’t understand the question until I explain to her the theory behind one of these rumors.

The line went quiet.

My dad doesn’t know what to say, but my mom blew her top, she was furious.

In my mother’s adorable, hot headed Japanese mom fashion, she emphatically starts yelling into the phone about how my ancestors did nothing. No one in my family served, and in fact, my family was socially ostracized for years for accepting a Korean family who were on hard times into their farming community in Shizuoka prefecture.  (see Footnote)

She was furious and I think stormed away from the phone but I was happy to know, without a doubt, that this dark age posturing was completely ridiculous. My sense of what was reality and what wasn’t was a bit diminished in my daze the past few days, I was glad to have my intellect reinforced.

My parents collect me at the airport and are stunned by the shape I’m in. The doctor explains that I have several severe infections, a staph (staphylococcal) infection and impetigo— a highly contagious bacterial infection on my skin, but it was progressing as an infection in my blood—septicemia, which would have killed me in 48 hours without medical attention. I’m given a heavy flow of an antibiotic cocktail and I’m closely monitored. When I do get home, I can hardly move, and if I’m not sleeping or sitting in a mineral bath, I’m taking antibiotics and trying to heal my skin in time for the new school that I’m transferring to. But in every waking moment, I’m trying to make sense of the previous two weeks. I tell my parents that I’m no longer in the church and they don’t even put up a fight. We don’t talk about it but they can hardly believe what happened to me.

From that point on, I’ve kept my distance from every BC. I partially hold it against them for being complacent, for not chiming in with me, for not seeing the fatal flaws that were so obvious to me. I hold it against them for not standing up for me when they saw the quiet abuse that I went through. For not speaking up for me when people were effectively spreading lies about me. But I realize they didn’t really know me enough, or really even know what was going on all around us at the time, or themselves for that matter. And if I were them instead of me, would I do it any differently?

I hold it against the church for breeding ignorance and stupidity in its members and families; encouraging them to have upwards 10 kids before they can even think about what it means to really take care of them, giving them a real, true education and a fulfilling life; for grinding these families into poverty, a life partially lived on food stamps, for what exactly, I’m still not sure; for collectively instilling this insidious belief that it’s women who are always at fault/responsible in all situations and who carry the onus of Eve’s imprint on the Fall; that men are never to blame/never responsible and therefore unaccountable creatures save for their purpose of begetting a blessed family; that if you’re about to be raped, it’s your duty to kill yourself—not defend yourself and your right to live—before it gets to that; that you are anything less in God’s eyes if you are raped; that our sexuality is a fixed binary without room to account for a full spectrum within ourselves that acknowledges and respects humanity in its entirety—homosexuality and all. I hold the Church responsible for the deaths of BCs I knew, but that’s a longer, separate story.

When and where it all went bad for the Unification Church, I don’t know. I know it was a beautiful thing when my parents joined, I truly believe that they were meant to be together. It was something that I believed in with my whole heart when I was little. I do in fact believe that I’m a blessed child— I have no doubt that there’s a divinity in me, but I know there’s a divinity in everyone, BC or not. Our lives should be lived acknowledging and honoring that little spark, that bit of magic in each of us. It’s that simple.

My only regret in leaving the church at 16 was leaving behind my fellow BCs, especially the younger ones who have no one to advocate for their choice to question. I know they’re struggling or have struggled against parents and elders who are even more forceful and too scared to ask the same questions themselves. I know their questions are harder because they haven’t seen what I have in such crazy, sharp relief. It was made almost too clear to me but for them their experience is slower, blurred and more broken. I have dreams where I’m fighting for them, but I have to leave them behind to fight my own battles. I can hardly think about the church for very long without feeling the most violent, extreme emotions, mostly on behalf of my fellow BCs. It’s part of the reason why I’ve kept away for as long as I have, I’ve forgotten names and faces, and while I’ve forgiven the church for what it’s done to me, I will never forgive what it’s done to the thousands of individuals and families raised in almost poverty because of it. In my heart, it’s not hate, it’s justice, it’s right and wrong, clean. In my heart, I am a fucking vigilante, and part of what propels me is to vindicate them. I fantasize about doing well enough in life, to have enough money so that I can buy up each of the church’s properties so that I can burn them all down to the ground, in the name of all my fellow BCs. If there is one thing that I can thank the church, it’s for making me a fiercely passionate person. To this day, I don’t think anyone can hold a candle to the flames that burn in our hearts.

Life outside of the church is hard, reprogramming the way you consider everything never ends. Dating still feels impossible even after 10 years at it. But it’s so beautiful, it’s so varied and complex and breathtaking— the multitudes, the possibilities that I’ve experienced and are still at my feet. It’s always up to me, every mistake, triumph, difficulty and opportunity is up to me, and I’m so grateful that my conclusions are my conclusions even if it’s a process. As stupid or sad as this story is, I’m grateful for it because now I have a tenacity that rivals most anything. Now, almost 14 years later, I am a fucking panther and I don’t let anyone or anything take me down. Nothing fools me, no situation happens without my consent, and I live life fully, authentically, deliberately and always on my terms. And I want that for every single BC, in the church or not.

__________________________

Silra said: This makes me so sad. I’m an ex British moonie and the PLA was a last straw for me. I was 12 during that time and remember rumours being rife amongst all the BCs. I had to say my testimony at Leicester Square where my dad was super proud. Little did he know I wasn’t happy and the rumour mill was ripe with bullshit about me. I’m sorry you had to go through that.

__________________________

Footnote

The Unification Church heavily guilt tripped the Japanese members about the Japanese occupation of Korea (1910-1945), and about the Korean ‘Comfort Women’. To understand the psychology of this manipulation used during recruitment, see:

Japanese woman recruited by the Unification Church and sold to an older Korean farmer in an ‘apology marriage’

To understand more about the Korean ‘Comfort Women’ issue see:

The Comfort Women controversy

This ‘Comfort Women’ research is very important for all Japanese members. For some perspective, here is an extract from a piece from the New York Times. There were more Korean ‘Comfort Women’ serving the US military from 1950 than ever served the Japanese military during the colonial period.

New York Times:

Ex-Prostitutes Say South Korea and U.S. Enabled Sex Trade Near Bases By Choe Sang-Hun  January 7, 2009

SEOUL, South Korea. South Korea has railed for years against the Japanese government’s waffling over how much responsibility it bears for one of the ugliest chapters in its wartime history: the enslavement of women from Korea and elsewhere to work in brothels serving Japan’s imperial army.


Now, a group of former prostitutes in South Korea have accused some of their country’s former leaders of a different kind of abuse: encouraging them to have sex with the American soldiers who protected South Korea from North Korea. They also accuse past South Korean governments, and the United States military, of taking a direct hand in the sex trade from the 1960s through the 1980s, working together to build a testing and treatment system to ensure that prostitutes were disease-free for American troops.


While the women have made no claims that they were coerced into prostitution by South Korean or American officials during those years, they accuse successive Korean governments of hypocrisy in calling for reparations from Japan while refusing to take a hard look at South Korea’s own history.


“Our government was one big pimp for the U.S. military,” one of the women, Kim Ae-ran, 58, said in a recent interview.


Scholars on the issue say that the South Korean government was motivated in part by fears that the American military would leave, and that it wanted to do whatever it could to prevent that.


But the women suggest that the government also viewed them as commodities to be used to shore up the country’s struggling economy in the decades after the Korean War. They say the government not only sponsored classes for them in basic English and etiquette meant to help them sell themselves more effectively but also sent bureaucrats to praise them for earning dollars when South Korea was desperate for foreign currency.


“They urged us to sell as much as possible to the G.I.’s, praising us as ‘dollar-earning patriots,’ ” Ms. Kim said. ...

The Comfort Women controversy

#PLA #Pure Love Alliance #Moonies #Sun Myung Moon #Unification Church #CARP #Japanese occupation of Korea #Comfort Women

[smolbeandrabbles]

DJ Got Us Fallin’ In Love - Captain Emmett Dutton x Reader (Australia) Modern!AU

@mandy23b - I really wanted to surprise you with this one 💜💙

Author’s Note: SO. Basically, this is a combination of two things. THIS POST and the Modern!Dutton vibes it gives off, and Amanda’s tags on “Starlight” (Which also inspired the song, dontcha know?) *Note: Outfit based loosely on above pictures. Trust you, Amanda😉  .  Disclaimer: Lyrics / Characters not mine, as usual. Idea was a discussion with @3134045126​ so I’ma give her credit here too! ... And the song, as previous, is all Ms.Mandy23b 

Premise: Harbouring a crush on a superior officer is the last thing you’re worried about when he’s as sweet as Emmett Dutton is. If you can get him out this evening, who knows what else you can do...  Words: 2483 Warnings: Drinking / AU

__________ So we back in the club With our bodies rockin' from side to side Thank God the week is done... No control of my body Ain't I seen you before? I think I remember those eyes, Keep downing drinks like there's No tomorrow there's just right Now, now, now, now, now, now Hands up, when the music drops Put your hands on my body Swear I seen you before I think I remember those eyes 'Cause baby tonight, D-J got us fallin' in love again Yeah, baby tonight, D-J got us fallin' in love again So dance, dance, Like it's the last, Last night of your life, life Gonna get you right Cause baby tonight, D-J got us fallin' in love again ---  All it was meant to be was a night out with your girls at the karaoke bar. Sure that bar also gave everyone a break from horrendous (increasingly drunk) singing, because it also had a dance floor, but you weren’t here for that. Whether you would end up on it or not... was another matter... Being with your girls was only one of two reasons you were out here. Because you were hoping to catch the eye of someone else. You could tell just by looking at him that he wasn’t usually the type to come to something like this. But it’d been a couple of months since the far beyond cute Captain Dutton had caught your eye across the mess hall, and whilst passing him today you’d inquired as to if he was coming out tonight; “Oh I-” “I just know a lot of the barracks are going, so I thought you might...” “No it’s, just that I- it’s not really my scene...” “Oh... not even for one night?” Your look did your pleading for you, and he gave a soft sigh and a smile “Okay, one night... now go on, before your drill sergeant catches you.” “Yes, Sir!” You responded with a grin, back straight - before you jogged off to your next drill exercise. You were a tough girl by all accounts and had got into the army through no small feat. Your aim to always add a little feminine charm, and beat all the boys while you were at it. You’d already outpaced a few of them on both running, and obstacle drills - and stood at the end, arms folded behind your back with a little smirk; “What, too hard for you guys?” Sometimes that landed you a little in trouble, but, you mostly stuck to the rules. You did know what was good for you, sort of. And the Captain... He could definitely be good for you.  Emmett Dutton was the quiet type. And if he wasn’t where he was, and at the rank he was at, you would almost say he was the shy type. Maybe he was, maybe he was just good at this. He seemed to make friends with all his peers and you figured, once you started crushing on him, that it wouldn’t be too hard to make friends with him yourself.  Of course, your own friends figured out pretty easily (because you kept staring at him whenever he was in the same room... even when you were supposed to be listening to someone else brief you) that you had a crush. And the teasing became relentless. Luckily it hadn’t spread around the entire barracks yet but, every time you saw Emmett pass by and you gave each other a smile they would sigh dreamily, pretend to swoon and say “Oh captain! My Captain!”. Which only led to them getting punched in the arm - but it wouldn’t be long until people caught on. Especially since you’d started keeping Emmett up to date with your schedule, and he would come around if he had free time to watch you. You had figured out by now that it happened often enough for it to be more than just ‘passing by’ as you often heard him announce to the officer in charge that day. Which only made the girls wiggle their eyebrows and nudge you. “Shut up!” you hissed, “He’s clearly here for—!”  Except, when you’d finished up, he might also decide to catch you and say something akin to ‘great work’. And you had to listen to your friends try to hold their laughter and screeching in whilst still being respectful of his title. Of course, once he was out of ear shot you couldn’t help but laugh with them laughing at you. Emmett was going to get you in all kinds of trouble, and to be honest, you didn’t mind the prospect all that much.  ***  So half your night tonight had been incredibly fun - singing along to every song in the three of you’s repertoire. With the singing becoming screaming and both it, and the song choices, becoming increasingly cheesy & bad as the night progressed and you consumed a little more alcohol. In the end, half of the words were lost to giggling. To the point where, inevitably, they shut down the entire thing for the night and the DJ began pumping out hit after hit. Leaving you all to huddle onto a bench table and chat away. But it must have been at least an hour and he still hadn’t turned up yet... and you weren’t about to sit here and wallow in self-pity (even though you were).  But then in he walked. Looking about as shy and hesitant as you expected. And also better perhaps than you had even seen him in uniform. His shades were tucked into the front of his shirt, even though it was late evening. You wondered if he had managed to take some of the day off since you’d invited him out, then. As today even you had found time to lay on the grass and bask in the sun’s warm rays. It had been a good one by all accounts. It was about to get even better. You hoped. Emmett was wearing a black shirt over white, sleeves rolled up to give further effect to that contrast, dark jeans that looked almost stone washed, and black lace ups - you thought that was likely about as casual as he got. And yet you were almost surprised, with his hair still near perfect, that he looked that casual. Your mood instantly picked up, suddenly alert, you leant forward with a smile. He’d come, you’d asked him to come and he had! He looked around for a moment and to your annoyance, spotted his friends first. “...Ahhh—!!” Both your friends suddenly leant on you as they also noticed him. “If it isn’t your Captain!!” “Shut up!!” You pushed them to no avail but kept your eyes on him, still smiling. He smiled too, and then he laughed.  And your heart fluttered softly; damn this crush... damn him for making you feel this way, and want to fall so deeply into this. Emmett ordered his drink with his friends, still laughing with them - before he turned to admire the rest of the bar. And as his eyes scanned around you realised that he was looking for someone. And then he saw you, and the smile he gave was unlike one you had ever seen from him. He offered a wave “Hi!” “Hey-!” You mouthed back; knowing you were smiling in a similar fashion. “You’re blushing.” You turned back to your girls, both of them staring at you bluntly “What-!?” “Blushing—!” The problem was you knew you were, and now they had mentioned it you could feel your face heating up, but you swivelled back to the bar intent on ignoring their jibes at you... By this time he was sipping beer smoothly, and edging away from his friends. They were pushing his arm and laughing as much at him as your friends were at you. You noticed that he laughed back, and held his hands up like it was hardly his fault. Emmett took a few steps away, then laughed and turned back as they all began cat-calling to him. “Shut up!” You saw him say before he turned back to them and got a little animated as they all started laughing again. From over here you couldn’t hear them but you could imagine the banter. If Emmett was even half as proper in his down time as he was dressed in uniform, then this was likely to cause quite the stir with people who weren’t his friends. So he walked, all the way across the bar, to you. “Hey...” His voice was just as soft as his demeanour “Emmett...” it almost felt strange to call him by his first name, but, he wasn’t the captain when he wasn’t in uniform. “You came.” “Well...” he gave a gentle shrug, “You asked me to, didn’t you? Would you... like a drink?” “I...” you indicated to your own “Think I’ve maybe had... a few too many...” “Oh...” he looked a little disappointed, and took another sip of his own, “...Well then...” he held his hand out “... Dance with me.” “Wh-!?” You probably couldn’t have sounded more surprised as your friends stared at each other in disbelief. “Well, the music is up, if you don’t want another drink and you invited me here, I believe that I should at least offer you a dance...” You took a deep breath, hardly daring to believe this was real, and took his hand; “...And I will accept your dance, Captain...”  As he pulled you from your seat, both yours and his friends whistled - ear piercing enough to cut through the music and have you both laughing; “You must forgive my friends...!” Emmett took your other hand in his as he smiled, “But, um, things like this are a rare occurrence for me...” You giggled, “Maybe I should change that.” A slight blush crossed his cheeks as he bit his lip through his smile; “I - haha - wouldn’t be adverse to that...” You gave a sweet smile, and accompanying wink; “Me either.” “Be careful, you haven’t seen me dance yet!” You both laughed at that; “Oh, Y/N, you must forgive me my lateness... There were a few things I needed to attend to back at barracks, and I was waylaid a little longer than I ought to have been...” You shook your head, “I... I’m just glad you’re here... and I understand...!” It was his job after all, and you knew Emmett would have put anything he had to do for his men first. You gave a grin, “Don’t worry! You didn’t miss much!! Just karaoke!” He laughed, “Oh goodness! How could I?!” You returned a cheeky wink; “Exactly! It was the best bit!” “Well, hopefully you dance as well as you sing.” “Oh no!” You laughed harder “Then you’d be in trouble Emmett!” “Why!?” His smile was still sweet, “Because you would show me up?” “The complete opposite Captain I assure you!” He raised an eyebrow, “Nonsense!” The beat to the next song started and he grinned, “Time to put your money where your dance moves are!!” You had to raise an eyebrow yourself at that, because this man did not appear to you to be a dancer. But, here you were – in civvies – on a dancefloor in a tiny bar having the time of your life.  He took your hands and led you, through jam after jam, after jam. Sometimes he was your dance partner, and sometimes it was nothing short of a dance off. But then the DJ decided to turn it up a notch, and you noticed even his friends and yours, who had been watching you all night, clamour to get out on the floor with you. Emmett and yourself paused, looking around, you recognised the hit another club classic from 2010; “Is this DJ got us falling in love?!” “…That’s subtly ironic…” He mused, with a gentle chuckle. And his eyes fell back to you – your face read curious, even though you picked up on his meaning right away. But the smile on your face transformed into a grin; “…Only… subtly…” And so both of you sang along to every word – and became the literal embodiment of the phrase dance like no one is watching, even though you were both aware,that everyone in this little bar – even those also dancing – were watching you. He moved with you like you’d been doing this for more than just a few hours – but maybe you’d both somehow been able to commit each other’s movements to memory. You weren’t sure you’d enjoyed yourself this much in ages. Hands up, no cares or worries. Only him. Only each other. And this music. *** Top that! You would have said, as everyone stayed on the floor for the next few songs. But you knew it wouldn’t happen. You were having fun out here and although you realised the night was going to end, and likely soon, it was the last thing you wanted to happen. You were both seeing things in each other you’d never seen before. And tomorrow it would be back to formalities and calling him Captain – standing that little bit straighter when he walked by, and keeping everything as respectful as was commanded. No – apparently the evening could be topped. Because the DJ decided to end the night not on another incredible classic that would keep everyone out here. But a ridiculous slow dance. To which the majority of people groaned and evacuated the dancefloor – there were couples here though, that stayed – and friends that decided they hardly cared the type of song, they were determined to be the last ones out on the floor. You thought Emmett would be as likely to pull away too; but he didn’t. Instead he kept a firm grasp on your hand, and as you turned to leave, drew you to him. “No, no… Y/N? You’d leave me at the last song?” “This song?” “…Yes, this song!” “But… Captain I…” “…Emmett.” He held you closer as he corrected you, hand in yours to begin an faultless sway, you guessed this did seem like more of his kind of music, “…You need not be so formal with me.” “In a few minutes that’s exactly what I will have to be.” “Why?” “Because that’s who you are…” “But to you I don’t have to be. Not outside…” Your lips parted as your eyes flicked between his, “Subtly ironic…” “Mmm Hmm…” Emmett was serious. He was talking about dating. He was talking about real relationships. You & him. Not just a crush… “MM hmmm…” You looked away from his gently blue eyes, biting your lip, and could feel the blush raising on your cheeks instead. The song finished and he stepped away from you with a gentle bow. “Thank you.” “For dancing with you?” Your returned his bow with a beautiful beaming smile “…No, Emmett, thank you for coming...!” “It was nothing…” “To me, it was everything…” you let your hand slip from his, but the smile remained. “We should do this again.” “Yes…” He ran a hand through his hair; “And more than once.” “You asking me on a date?” He laughed, bashfully, “I think so…” “Multiple dates!?” you clarified. That laugh turned to a grin, aimed more at the floor than you; “…Yes. I guess…” You nodded in acceptance; “I suppose I should say I can’t wait to see you on the dance floor again?” You got to hear that gorgeous laugh from him again; “...My sentiments exactly!”

---

@dennismitchell @happyskywhale @wltz-bby #MendoTagSquad. 

#Emmett Dutton #Captain Emmett Dutton #Captain Dutton #Australia #Ben Mendelsohn #Amalie (AU. Kinda.) #TBH Captain Marvel kinda inspired some of this... #So I'm not saying her friends are Carol and Maria... But they totally are. #What are we at now? #92? #They're gonna get short and sweet now in anticipation for the 25K I'm going to end up posting at the end of the year #and the fact we're going back to double post weekends for all this Christmas stuff! #You really don't need to know this in the tags for this one though #Modern!AU

[vios-rockland-corner]

Life in Rockland 2

[Life in Rockland is a creative writing project utilizing a specific OC in place of the MC for the “Rumors of Rockland” series.  I do not own any part of the Rockland universe, only my OC.  Fair warning, creative writing is not my forte.  This is a means of practice and a fun way to enjoy the content further].

Sasha’s in a much better mood than a few hours ago.  As she settles in for the night though, she’s faced with a small predicament that grows into a much deeper pondering about the day’s events.

Setting: After game events

Play: Rumors of Rockland- Article 2

[Spoilers below for RoR Article 2]

Sasha’s Choices:

[Get Help]

[I get the impression people can get away with a lot around here]

“Speaking”

Thinking

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The sound of tapping filled the room.

Sasha wasn’t typing, just lightly tapping on the top of her laptop while sitting at her desk.

I would have called or texted him by now.  Well I mean it’s late, won’t hurt if it’s not today.  God I wanted to talk about everything though, but…

She sighed and pushed her laptop to the side.  She shifted her chair over to the other side of the desk and reached over to pull a small pot close to her.  

“Hello Hydra~ You’re always a good listener.  Mind hearing me out?  I got a little problem.  It’s supposed to be good to talk to your plants anyway,” she chuckled.

It was a small venus flytrap.  Nothing extravagant, but she loved the bright green stalks and red mouths.  All wide open with the exception of one.

“Oh look at that. Looks like you already found yourself some dinner.  You’re the best bug repellent a girl could ask for.”

She gently petted the closed mouth.

“So see, this town is definitely small.  Pierce wasn’t kidding about running into people again.  I just didn’t expect THIS kind of situation to happen so soon.”

“So let’s run over the details again.  I told Pierce there was a raging alcoholic last time I went to this place.  He said dude was probably being emotional and just blowing smoke, but I should probably keep my distance from wild cards like him anyway.  Yet I ended up having a pretty good time with Avery and Callum tonight.  So I’d like to say bad first impression that led to a misunderstanding and all’s good now.  At least…that’s what I’d LIKE to say.”

Sasha sighed.

Fuck I feel awful even having these thoughts after Avery and Callum were nice enough to get me more familiar with people.

“It’s the middle part that’s killing me a bit here.  I guess I just kind of pushed it to the back of my brain while settling down in the bar.”

“Okay first of all, I don’t regret my actions.  I would hate myself if I hadn’t done SOMETHING.  Callum’s such a sweet guy, and I really feel like he was about to get beaten up.  No offense to him, but he doesn’t exactly look like a fighter.  It was also 2-on-1 anyway.  God, what if they would have killed him out of prejudice?!  Am I overreacting? Maybe, but I don’t know.”  

“But hey, it’s not like I would have made the odds any better if I had joined in myself.  I don’t really have any fighting skills, and something tells me two grown men aren’t going to be that intimidated by 5’4” woman. Not to mention, I don’t sound intimidating at all.  If I had at least SOMEONE else with me, maybe…did that once with Pierce.”

Sasha started reminiscing.

“There actually was one time where Pierce and I came across someone being hassled near a bar.  But Pierce and I approached pretending to be the dude’s friends.  We just made our voices VERY loud about how were happy to see the guy and then said something along the lines of ‘Dude come on, you’re so late.  Everyone’s been waiting, stop holding things up.’  Think we were pretending to be in a hurry.  Pierce literally just cut by the jerks, grabbed the guy’s arm and we just all walked together to the bar while continuing our conversation about our very made up plans.  I was dead afraid those guys were going to jump us from behind, but it never happened. The dude we pulled out of there was definitely grateful.  I thought it was cool, but Pierce told me later that method won’t always work for everyone.  We just got lucky that the guys we came across were the type that didn’t like attention being drawn to their shitty attitudes.  Pierce said some people won’t give a damn though about who sees their nasty side.  So with that in mind and the fact I can’t really act as smoothly as Pierce can anyway…yeah no way I could have jumped in to help Callum without backup.”

That’s a VERY different approach than the one Avery took too…

“Look I don’t know why I didn’t think to just call the police.  I either wasn’t thinking, or I just thought they’d blow me off for it just being drunken bar nonsense that wasn’t even happening in the establishment.”

Now it doesn’t sound like people call the cops much anyway in Rockland.

“I didn’t know Whesker wasn’t there.  I just saw Avery and well…things turned out okay.  But how was I supposed to know he was going to nearly beat the two drunks to death tonight.  It’s not like I care for garbage like that, I just think personally playing executioner to some folks without attempting to even dissolve the situation peacefully first is just…”  Sasha groaned.

“Okay, calm down Sasha. Maybe you’re just overexaggerating the situation.  Just because you heard…bones cracking, doesn’t necessarily mean he would have gone all the way, right?  People can sometimes just be fragile.”  

He said he wanted to snap someone’s neck last week.  He’s not all bark and no bite.

“Fuck, stop Sasha!” She muttered to herself and placed her head in her hands.

“Avery was protecting his friend.  The drunks were homophobic and might have hurt Callum.  Maybe they would have even killed him!  Not like they didn’t earn at least a punch in the face.  Callum’s safe now, and both Avery and Callum treated me so well tonight.  Why the hell am I being so judgmental?”

Because I almost watched two men get murdered in front of me?

“Ridiculous.”

Sounded like stuff like this happens under the radar a lot.

Sasha got up from her desk and heading towards the bathroom. She turned the sink on and started splashing water on her face.  She took a few deep breaths and looked in the mirror.

“Hey, you’re new. Feeling a little jittery is all. You’ve never really known much anywhere other than your own home for most of your life.  It’s a lot of new experiences at once.  …Why the hell am I talking in second person?”

Sasha left the bathroom and sat back in front of Hydra again.

“I’m the new person here. Everyone else has been here for a long time.  I’m more like a guest or intruder at this point.  Sounds like things will only go south for me if I get too nosy or mess with the wrong people.  When have EITHER of those ever been a problem for me?  Hell, I never even drank underage.  Pierce calls me too boring at times too,”  She chuckled.

“Worst crime I feel like I’ve ever done is jaywalking.  And yeah, I know if there’s ever trouble, I’m the type to go to the proper authorities for help.  Whether it was work, school or town life.  But I’m an adult, and if this place is more of a ‘you take care of your own business’ type of deal, I need to respect that and take responsibility for myself.  MOST of the people I’ve come across have been nothing but friendly towards me.  Maybe I need to stop jumping to conclusions. There’s no way that I’m going to be scared off back home by stuff like this.”

I won’t lie, it’ll hurt my pride a little if I move back home just because I didn’t try to fit in.

“Well I’m not sure if I’m being open minded here or too lenient out of naivety.  I AM sure that Pierce would raise an eyebrow though. There’s no way I could explain away how I knew to call out to Avery in the bar.  I didn’t say his name last week, but he’ll remember the alcoholic I mentioned.  Now if this was in our town, Pierce would probably make some kind of weird joke about this.  But I think…he wouldn’t admit it but I think he’s been a little anxious lately that he’s not here with me to watch my back.”

She pet one of Hydra’s heads.

“When we’re together, he likes to poke fun at me and take me to my places that sometimes aren’t in my comfort zone.  But that’s only if he’s confident enough himself that he can get us out of a tight bind we might get into.  He never took to me to anyplace extremely dangerous or introduced me to people he didn’t trust.  He doesn’t know anyone in Rockland.  I’m sure telling him how the possible alcoholic can possibly beat people to death would put him on edge.  Especially since I’ve run into Avery twice now.  Pierce would be nervous about that proximity.”

So I’m fighting between relying on my hometown friend’s judgement and giving new people a chance.  Not to mention putting my own judgement skills to the test here.

Sasha leaned back and hummed to herself.

“So here’s the story. Callum was getting hassled in the alleyway.  I called out to his friend from last week who was having a bad time.  Out of necessity of course.  He came and knocked the drunks away and then Callum, Avery and I had a good time going over the different citizens in town.  There we go.  Short and simple.  Not even a lie.  Why was I even overthinking all this?  If Pierce presses, I’ll just say Avery can look scary.  Dude IS pretty tall too, probably can stare off a lot of people with just a glare.”

Definitely believe he’s not to be messed with.

“I missed the VERY beginning when Avery entered the alleyway anyway.  Callum may have sounded chipper, but who’s to say Avery hadn’t spotted one of the dudes trying to pull a knife or something.  If you’re gonna beat a knife and two guys with just fists, you BETTER act fast.”

Sasha nodded to herself.

“Everything’s fine.  Even the drunks at the end of the day will recover. Hopefully learned a lesson and become better people, but that’s up to them.”

She looked at the clock. It really WAS late.  Sasha stretched her arms and headed over to the closet, looking for some nightwear to change into.

“…but seriously, who the hell is Kinley?”

#Rockland #Rockland Games #Rumors of Rockland #runawayoutlaw #rottenbonethief #my OC #Sasha Holmes #Life in Rockland #RoR

[theladyofdeath]

10 Things I Hate About You {1}

An ACOTAR fanfiction. 

Nessian. Feysand. Elriel. Elucien.

Story inspired by the 1999 classic, 10 Things I Hate About You, and a prompt from anon.

Summary: Cassian gets dared to convince the university’s notorious bitch to attend the Greek winter formal with him. Elain is conflicted between her lifelong crush or the boy with the hazel eyes who makes her feel like more than just a pretty face. Feyre finds herself captivated by her school’s new janitor, but little does she knew that he’s not employed there by choice.

Warning: Rated M for mature.

Author’s Note: WELCOME. Get ready for a hell of a ride. I love to know your thoughts! + comment or send an ask if you want to be tagged.

Nesta loved music.

There was something soothing about a song that could completely enthrall an average person within the first few notes. Nesta would close her eyes, lie on her bed, and listen for hours.

In her studio apartment, she had built floating shelves along one wall, that ranged from the floor to the ceiling. Vinyl records and cds were organized in alphabetical order, by genre.

No one else was allowed to touch them.

Not that she had that many visitors.

But, it was why she had left her last roommate and begun to live alone.

An old, beat up piano and an acoustic guitar sat in the corner, between what served as her kitchen and her bedroom.

There were many days when Nesta wouldn’t even step out of her apartment, or days when the only time she would leave would be to go to the old record store on the corner.

At least, that’s how it was during the Summer months.

Now, it was September and the first day of her senior year at VU had approached. One more year. All she had to do was get through one more year, and she never had to step foot in an educational facility ever again.

It was about damn time.

Nesta had always hated school. Unfortunately, many believed it was necessary for future success.

Nothing like getting into debt that is forever impossible to pay off, just so you can one day make enough to, hopefully, survive.

It was a fucked up system, but Nesta endured it, nonetheless.

One day, she was going to open up her own music store. She was going to be a business owner - a successful one, unlike her father.

Her father stupidly ran his own business into the ground and was so devastated that he neglected to take care of his three children.

She would never be like her old man.

Nesta dropped her towel in front of her mirror and looked at her body. She was much too thin for her liking. She practically had the ass of a twelve-year-old boy. Tilting her head, she took a deep breath in through her nose and let it out through her lips.

Maybe she should start eating more.

Too bad food was so damn expensive and she had just spent five hundred dollars on books for the semester.

Fucked. Up. System.

Nesta pulled on a pair of jeans and decided on a long-sleeved black tee. She hated how college boys neglected to hide their wandering eyes, so Nesta dressed to avoid such altercations at all costs.

After grabbing her book bag off her couch, she was walking through the warm Velaris streets, her hair still damp from her shower.

She glanced at her phone screen. She had ten minutes to make it to her 9 a.m. class.

After a short curse, she picked up her pace.

She had lived on campus for the first two years but wasn’t a fan of it. Campus life typically revolved around idiot boys pretending to be men and girls who snuck out after hours. Her roommate, the one who touched her records, had a squeaky bed with heavy movement.

It squeaked often.

Although it was more expensive, Nesta decided to live alone just outside of campus. Her apartment was convenient - next to campus, next to the diner in which she worked, and walking distance to the music store. Although she had a car, she rarely used it.

But as her legs began to grow tired, she wondered why.

Her 9 a.m. class was on the far end of campus, so she hurried through a series of courtyards before finally reaching the old, looming brick building.

She pulled out her phone and pulled up her schedule as she entered. British Literature 1. Room 303.

There was a line at the elevator, so she took to the staircase.

She had two minutes to get to the third floor.

And she would have made it if it weren’t for him.

“Hey,” he said, stepping in front of her when she made it to the third floor. “Greek night is tonight. Come?”

Nesta tried to step past him but he followed her lead, handing her a flyer.

“Move,” she snapped.

He grinned, and she met his eyes for the first time. Hazel, bright. His shoulder length hair was a deep, dark brown.

His smile was beautifully dangerous, beautifully horrid.

“I’m going to be late, asshole,” she scowled. “Move.”

He folded up a flyer and stuck it in the side pocket of her backpack. “Fine. See you later.”

“No, you won’t,” she mumbled, knocking into his shoulder as she hurried past him.

She could hear his laughter follow her until she walked into room 303.

~~~~

Rhysand entered Amarantha’s office, already wanting to puke.

She was sitting behind her desk, her red-gold hair in a tight braid. Her eyes met his and she grinned.

“Ah, Rhysand,” she crooned. “You’re late for your first day on the job.”

Rhys shut the door but stayed near it as he replied, “Considering school has been in session for an hour, I assumed it would be okay.”

She raised a brow. “I’ll allow it, just this once.”

He gave her a curt nod.

“Here are your keys,” she said, tossing a ring across the room, which he easily caught. “There is a closet by the gym with all of your supplies. I expect you here from eight to five every day, Monday through Friday. Any step out of line, Rhysand, and you will be sorry. Is that understood?”

“Yes,” he replied, through gritted teeth.

She smiled, charmingly. “So uptight. I like you better relaxed.”

“Is small talk a part of my job description?” he asked, irritated.

“No,” she said, smile unwavering. “You may leave.”

“Fine,” he said, opening her door.

“And Rhysand?”

He stopped, but didn’t turn.

“Say goodbye before you leave this afternoon,” she said.

Rhysand shut the door quietly behind him.

He attempted to reel in his emotions as he strode through the silent hallways. Three years ago, he had been a senior at North Velaris High. Three years ago, he thought he’d be nearing the end of his college career at twenty-one. But, now, he was a janitor.

It’s not that he had anything against janitors.

He actually respected them greatly. They had to clean up some pretty horrible shit, after some pretty disrespectful teenagers.

But, he had never imagined himself as one.

Until now, he was going to VU for psychology. He had worked his ass off year round, even taking Summer classes.

But then, Summer came, once more, and Amarantha…

Knew.

She knew, and she held it over him. She hadn’t been his principle, she was only a few years older than he was. Rumor was, her father got her the job. It was her first year, and she had taken Rhysand with her.

She was keeping him close, keeping him near so she could watch his every move.

And he wouldn’t have done it unless he had to, wouldn’t have taken the job and abandoned everything else if he didn’t believe her threats.

He was caught up in a dangerous game.

A game he hadn’t even wanted to play in the first place.

Rhysand found his way to the janitor’s closet by the gym. After attempting half the keys on his key ring, he finally managed to get it open.

It was filled with supplies, ancient supplies, all that had been used by his father. He stepped inside and flipped on the light switch, brushing his fingertips along the broomsticks and the rags that lined the shelves.

There was a schedule posted on the wall in familiar handwriting.

Handwriting that Rhysand had grown up seeing.

Handwriting that belonged to a man he’d never see again.

Without giving it too much thought, he slipped the coveralls over his sweatpants and teeshirt before tending to his duties.

~~~~

The day passed quickly for Elain Archeron.

She was so busy prepping for Greek night that she’d barely made it to her afternoon class, and when it was over, she ran to Greek Row and into the house of Alpha Delta Pi, greeting her sisters before grabbing a clipboard and beginning her checklist.

It was nearly half an hour after four when two familiar faces showed up on the lawn.

Elain grinned, running to the curb. “So? I just hung the banner. What do you think?”

Feyre nodded in approval as Nesta glared at girls in passing.

“It’s beautiful, Elain,” Feyre smiled. “You did a great job. Sorry we couldn’t make it here earlier, tryouts went longer than I thought.”

Elain had almost forgotten that Feyre was trying out for the varsity soccer team. In her will to get everything set up, it had slipped her mind.

“How’d it go?”

“Good,” Feyre beamed. “They’re posting spots tomorrow. They also let me into two art classes this semester, since I finished all my math credits last year. And we got a hot, new janitor. So, overall, not a bad first day.”

Elain huffed a laugh. “That’s great, Feyre. Only one more year until you’re here with me.”

Nesta hadn’t said a word.

She hated the Greeks and everything they stood for, hated that Elain had spent three years in ADPi, even if their mom had been a part of the same sorority during her time at VU.

“I’m going to go see if anyone needs help,” Feyre smiled, hurrying across the yard.

“She’s brainwashed,” Nesta mumbled.

“Don’t be so hard on her,” Elain scolded. “Just because this isn’t your thing doesn’t mean it can’t be hers.”

“She only wants to join because of you and mom,” Nesta said, crossing her arms. “I mean, look at all of this. You’re all working your asses off to have a bunch of wannabe's ask you a million questions in five minutes, then leave.”

“If you don’t want to be here, why’d you come?” Elain asked, refusing to get angry, but growing frustrated.

“Feyre wanted to come,” she shrugged. “I’m not letting her walk around a college campus alone.”

“She wouldn’t be alone. She’d be with me.”

“You’re busy,” Nesta said. “Aren’t you going out with Vanserra tonight?”

Nesta couldn’t help the way she was. Or, maybe she could and just didn’t want to.

The way she said Vanserra made his name sound like filth.

“Yes, and I’m very excited about it, so it’d be nice if you were excited for me, too.”

“Excited about what?” Nesta scoffed. “Going out with a guy who only wants to take you to dinner so he can leave before breakfast?”

Elain’s brows furrowed. “He’s not like that. He’s not like the rest of them.”

“They’re all like that,” Nesta snapped, before pulling out her phone and sitting on the curb.

Elain sighed, catching the glimpse of a visitor.

He was wearing his typical, black jeans, which had rips in the knees. His boots were old, dingy, falling apart. He wore a plain black tee with a plaid button-down tossed over his shoulder.

Nesta looked up from her screen, fury igniting. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“I see you came,” he winked. “It was because of my flyer, wasn’t it?”

Nesta chuckled. “You’re in a fraternity? Seriously?”

He didn’t answer her question. Instead, he looked up. “Hey, Elain. Lovely to see you, as always.”

Elain smiled, even though she felt the need to roll her eyes. “Hi, Cassian. All set up for the night?”

“Nothing fancy,” he shrugged. “Although, there is a party afterward. You should come.”

“I have plans,” she said, politely declining.

Cassian smiled down at Nesta. “How about you?”

“I’d rather bathe in gasoline and jump into a fire,” Nesta spat.

He chuckled and walked away, hands in his pockets.

“He doesn’t look like he’d be a frat boy,” Nesta said after he left.

“Kappa Sigma,” Elain said. “Party frat. We don’t take them too seriously.”

Nesta rolled her eyes, probably wondering why someone would take any fraternity or sorority seriously.

“You know, you probably would have liked it if you finished rush week freshman year,” Elain noted, before crossing her arms and walking toward the house. “At least I made it.”

~~~~

Nesta sat on the curb for a long while, watching as hopeful freshman went from house to house on Greek row.

She had been in their shoes once. Four years ago, she had walked the same walk on Greek row, excited to follow in her late mother’s footsteps.

She hadn’t made it through Rush, though.

She had left.

Had secluded herself.

Had begun to push everything and everyone away.

That week had changed her.

Feyre plopped down next to her on the grass just as the sun began to set. “I think I’m going to stay for a little while. I can get a ride home from one of the girls. You don’t have to wait for me.”

“It’s a school night.”

“Have I ever proven that I’m not responsible?”

Nesta glared at her youngest sister.

Feyre glared back.

She wasn’t wrong. Feyre was probably the most reliable out of all of them.

“Fine,” Nesta said, standing to her feet and brushing off her jeans. “Make good choices.”

Feyre lifted a brow. “Fine. You too.”

Nesta walked back to her apartment, alone, as the Velaris starlight made its appearance.

~~~~

Chapter two coming soon.

@throne-of-ashes-and-beauty @photofeesh @mariamuses @queen-archeron @agel-yan  @julesherondalex @rhysismydaddy @poisonous00 @katshrev         @girl-who-reads-the-books @a-trifling-matter @kickassunicorn  @illyrian-highfae @light-in-the-shadows72 @abimomeopectore @cjcraiggchiefofstaff        @empress-ofbloodshed  @outofstyles13  @overgrown-bat @thebitchupstairs @breccia-domain    @ladyblackstairs  @nish247  @my-fan-side  @panda3506 @awesomethreedragons  @hawkingeloise @feysand-dot-acotar  @darknessinthediamond @welcometothespeaknowworldtour @illyrianbae99      @i-look-like-a-mess  @my-parabatai-is-a-herondale @justacatastrophe @sofyyyd  @sannelovesreading  @kylizzles @kiss-my-maas @inrealliampain     @alien-from-pluto-writer @corpdemarvel @lorcanswife @aelinsaesthetic @illyriangarbage 

#tacmc TTIHAY #TTIHAY #nessian #feysand #elriel #elucien #fanfic #fanfiction #sjm

[jimlingss]

Jungle Park [4]

Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 4.5 OR Chapter 5

➜ Words: 5.7k

➜ Genres: Fluff, Light Humour (?), Slice of Life, Workplace Romance!AU

➜ Summary: The equation is simple. Hoseok needs to hire someone. You need a job. Except like any actual equation, it’s not fucking simple at all! Not when you have to add the fact that he was forced to hire someone he doesn’t want in his office, he has little respect for your job in general, and oh yeah...once upon a time you might have—*CENSORED*.

➜ Warnings: swearing

Right as things seem to be improving and you’re slowly being less ostracized by the others, it plummets all to hell again. It’s no wonder that so many people hate HR. You’re constantly going after the employees and you’re really beginning to feel like Hoseok’s personal henchman.   “Am I being fired?” Lisa cuts straight to the point, eyeing how the conference room door is closed and the shades have been drawn for the utmost privacy. She faces you from across the table and glances at Hoseok who’s behind you, chair against the wall, preoccupied with some work and flipping through a stack of papers.   “No, no, you’re not,” you try to reassure the female receptionist to no avail. You’re perfectly aware that out of everyone, Lisa has the most hostility towards you. It’s justified too, since you basically fired her best friend and now she thinks you have it out for the receptionists.   “Then what is it?”   “I would like to just brush up on the dress code with you.” You try your best to offer the kindest smile while damning Hoseok on why he made you do this. It’s your job, but still. “It’s not a huge deal, but the firm’s dress code is business professional and it applies to everyone. For men, it’s buttoned suits with ties or dress pants and sports jackets. And women can wear pencil skirts or dress pants with a top and jacket, or a dress or suit as well. Muted and neutral colours are generally encouraged, but there’s some flexibility there. Shoes can be opened toed or closed, as long as they’re not sandals or sneakers or boots...”   Your hands are clasped on the table and you continue, “There are a lot of choices to choose from. But Jung and Park find it especially important for you to adhere to the dress code because you greet clients that come in. In a way, you’re the face of the entire firm—”   “So what you’re saying is you want me to button up my blouse more?” She interrupts you and her glare is directed towards Hoseok for a few seconds before she looks down at her own shirt.   “Yes.” You retain your reserved smile, keeping your voice light and trying your best to clearly deliver your message without misunderstandings. “It’s a bit revealing. You look fantastic! I really like your fashion sense! But maybe it’s more appropriate for an evening out with friends rather than a professional office setting.”   “Maybe people shouldn’t let their eyes wander,” she mutters passive aggressively and moves on before you can address her concern. “If the dress code is so important, then I’d like to tell you that Taehyung comes in his pajamas sometimes.”   “I will talk to him about it,” you promise her and she nods, already moving to do up two more buttons on her white blouse. “How is Dahyun? Is she doing alright with you?”   “She’s fine,” Lisa says in a curt tone. “If this is all, can I go now?”   “Uh...yes, you can go now. Thank you for this discussion.” It’s shorter and easier than what you were preparing for. In the next few seconds, the receptionist swiftly stood and opened the door, waltzing out. You’ve also stood up, shuffling your stack of papers. Hoseok continues to sit there without moving, flipping to his next page, but the corner of his mouth moves.   “You need to be more stern,” he mumbles, barely coherent.   “I’m doing fine,” you tell him and with that, you leave.   No one said your job would be easy. When Jimin told you this place was full of high conflict, he wasn’t kidding. It seems like office drama and gossip runs like the wild west here. But recently, the flood of complaints made against each other seemed to stop entirely. Maybe people didn’t want to file official complaints or they simply decided to band together against you and Hoseok. If it’s the latter reason, you’re happy that you at least got to lessen the tension around the office.   It takes teamwork to revolt against authority figures. And….well, even if no one wants to be your friend anymore, you still like your job.   It’s a lot better than driving a damn taxi around.   “Um, Y/N?” There’s a timid knock on your door and you bolt your head upright, tearing your eyes away from the computer screen. At the doorway, Sebin linger hesitantly, arms holding onto a thick file. “Do...do you have some time?’   “Of course!” You stand, perhaps a little too enthusiastically. Nonetheless, you welcome her in and when she takes a seat, you happily close the door for privacy. You just can’t believe that someone’s actually here, greeting you, asking for your help, and you’re about to pull out all stops. “What can I do for you?”   “I just need to talk to someone.” The girl brushes her long brunette hair until it’s behind her, draping her backside. Her eyes divert to her lap, fingers playing with the hem of her beige pencil skirt before she looks up at you. “I’ve been having a hard time recently.”   “Do you know what you’re having a hard time with? Is it your family or your personal life or is it because of someone in the office?”   She shakes her head with a modest smile. “No, no one’s been anything but nice to me here. I just feel stuck.”   You nod, actively listening and reading her expression. “Can you elaborate? What do you mean by stuck?”   “I just…” The legal assistant sighs, a heavy exhale squeezing from her lungs. “I wonder what I’m doing. I like my job. I think it’s easy and straightforward. It pays the bills too. I really love and adore everyone here. Jimin was the one who hired me and I feel like I owe it to him to stick this out...but I don’t know...I keep thinking about it and I can’t get rid of this feeling.”   “Sebin, you don’t owe it to anyone to stick it out.” You repeat her exact words and you reach across your desk to squeeze her hand. “There’s no one here who would understand better than Jimin.”   She smiles, thankful that you’re offering her comfort. “I don’t know if this is what I want for myself anymore. But if I leave this place, I don’t know where I will go, I don’t know where I would get money.”   “Do you have any savings?”   “I do. But what if I can’t find another job? What if no one’s hiring? I know the economy isn’t great.”   “At this point, I don’t think the economy will ever be good.” You grin and she laughs behind her hand, agreeing with you. “There are a lot of reasons why you shouldn't do something. Sometimes...you just gotta go for it, as stupid as that sounds.”   The girl is kind of surprised. She expected you to coerce her to stay and she wondered if you’d just turn around and tattle to Hoseok later. She wouldn’t be all that shocked if Hoseok chucked a cardboard box at her head and told her to clean out her desk before the end of the day for even thinking of leaving her job. But Sebin is pleased to hear your encouragements and a part of her thinks you won’t tell Hoseok. Your sincerity reaches her. “Can you be honest with me?”   “Of course,” you reassure, wondering when you’ve ever been dishonest.   “Do you think it’s dumb?” The paralegal makes wild gestures with her hands. “I mean...my job right now isn’t hard…”   “Just because it’s easy, it doesn’t mean you’ll like it.” You hum and begin to reminisce. “I’ve been at jobs for the sake of money before and I was miserable the entire time. Actually, I only have this position right now because I made the decision to quit my old job….for the same reasons as you.”   You continue, “And as hard as this job can be sometimes, I love it a lot. I don’t think there’s anything I’d rather do than be here and help people, get to know them and boost office morale while still being a part of the team.”   Sebin smiles warmly, in awe at how you speak so passionately even when you know HR is a mundane job. “I’m not even sure of what I want.”   “Well…” You lean back. “If money wasn’t a concern, what would you want to do?”   “I don’t know.” It’s a typical question, but the legal assistant considers it carefully. “I’d travel. I’d eat a lot. I...I always wanted to become a teacher, so maybe I’d do that. I had a job as a teacher’s aide before. I just never thought I could be an actual teacher. Somewhere along the way, I applied for this job...and then I stuck to it.”   “And now you’re really stuck,” you say lightheartedly and she nods. “I think you would be a great teacher, Sebin. You have the patience for it for sure and it’s never really too late to do anything. If you have savings, you could do it, return to school and see what you need to complete your degree. There’re tons of bursaries and scholarships for adult students as well. In fact, I may have something for you.”   You open your left drawer, thanking the heavens of your bad habit of taking brochures that you don’t need. In ten seconds, you’ve fished for the right one and you slide the pamphlet over to her. “You can also continue working while going to school. There’s a lot of options out there.”   The girl’s eyes are glazed over, holding back tears. “Thank you for this, Y/N. I really appreciate it. I had no one else to talk to and...this just means a lot to me.”   “No problem.” If you were happy before, now you were on a high. Why should people do drugs when helping people was for free? “If you want, you can keep me updated on what you decide, but you don’t have to. My door’s always open if you need to talk to someone.”   At the end of the conversation, the both of you are over the moon.   Sebin leaves while dabbing her eyes with the back of her hand and you’re ecstatic that you actually got to help someone in their career development. At this rate, you’re sure she’ll still be working while going to school part-time, eventually becoming a teacher, or maybe not. She’s promised to see where things go and to take steps to make herself happier. And you couldn’t be happier yourself.   Except, the next day, someone by the name of Jung Hoseok takes a big fat dump on your bliss.   “You called me?” You pop your head through the door and he motions you in. You’re forced to awkwardly shuffle, moving to stand in front of his desk like you’re an elementary student about to be scolded by the principal.   “Explain this to me.” He throws a letter onto his desk and he glares at you hard enough to set your skin aflame. “Sebin just handed me her two weeks notice.”   Oh shit. Turns out she won’t be working and going to school at the same time. Maybe it’s better that she fully focuses on achieving her goal. It’s a good decision either way.   But you don’t tell Hoseok any of your thoughts. Instead, you manage a skeptical expression. “And you called me because…?”   “Because she came in here talking about being stuck and her dreams and needing to take charge of her life. I was thinking about who could’ve fed her all this nonsense and I realized that it could only be you.”   There’s a murderous look in his eye and you begin to break a sweat. If Hoseok didn’t hate you before, now he definitely did. You scramble to reply, “That...that’s a big assumption. Aren’t lawyers supposed to avoid assumptions?”   “Do you realize that in this busy season, we cannot afford to lose an important member of staff?”   “Yes.���   “Do you know how much work it will take to hire another paralegal that will fulfill the correct requirements and fit the needs of this office?”   “Yes,” you mutter before adding on, “but isn’t it my job to find someone suitable?”   Jung Hoseok is not amused and from the way he glares at you dead in the eyes and his hands are clasped, it makes you ponder if this is what Satan looks like in hell. “Did she or did she not visit you in the past few days?”   “She did.”   “And what did you talk about?”   “That is confidential material.”   “I am your boss and it is your job to tell me,” he demands and your life flashes before your eyes. You wonder if this is the end, if he’ll toss his sharp scissors at your exposed neck and the rest of the lawyers will end up hiding your corpse and burning it in some forest. They’d get away with it too, considering they’re the top lawyers in the industry. Oh god. How would your mom even react if your death became an unsolved mystery? “Either way, you would’ve had to fill out a report, correct? I could always read it.”   “Sometimes reports are not necessary to fill out,” you mumble while scratching your hair and downcasting your head.   The lawyer seated across from you persists without missing a single beat. “Did you or did you not speak to Sebin about her professional goals?”   “Perhaps.”   “Did you at any point suggest that she should quit if she is feeling unhappy?”   You’ve watched enough law television shows to know how to respond. It might be ridiculous, but you don’t care. “I refuse to respond on the grounds that it may incriminate me.”   Hoseok’s frown deepens, but the corner of his mouth twitches. You’re not sure if he’s become slightly amused or absolutely furious with you. “Are you….are you pleading the fifth?” He asks it like he can’t believe his own ears.   You cringe in your spot, avoiding his glare. “Yes.”   “This is not an interrogation.”   “Then what am I doing here?”   The male is brought to a loss for words, so he simply scoffs. He pinches the bridge of his nose and waves you away with his other hand. “Get out of here before I toss my mug at you.”   “That’s a threat and verbally abusive, also highly inappropriate.” Despite your words, your legs bolt upwards and you’re on your toes again, collecting yourself as you slowly back away from his desk. “Just letting you know as HR.”   “You’re testing me,” he chimes and returns back to his work.   “Alright...goodbye.” You run for your life and Hoseok lifts his chin, staring at the space where you just occupied. The corner of his tilt mouth again and he lets out a hopeless puff of air through his parted lips before it stretches into the smallest of smiles.   //   If life at the office could be charted, it would be one of the craziest graphs you would need to draw. The line would currently dip and rise, like the drop and incline of a rollercoaster with no stops. Often times when you’re having the time of your life, it plummets to the bottom. And when you’re having the worst time, things improve so drastically, you remember why you wanted this job in the first place.   At the moment, it feels like things were at a standstill, half between the rise and fall of good and bad. While the employees of the firm aren’t exactly friendly with you anymore, they aren’t hostile or passive aggressive either. Sure, you’re almost certain Hoseok hates your guts and probably wants to throw you out of his window, Jimin has been nothing but understanding and kind.   Things are okay.   But it’s about to be a new low for you.   “Are you the one who fired my girlfriend?!”   “Pardon?” You frown in confusion, forced to a halt in front of the office building as the car pulls up on the curb. An unfamiliar man has his head popped out of the window, half his body hanging out as he angrily screams the question at you. It’s only nine a.m. in the morning and your mind is still numb without coffee.   “Are you the fucking HR bitch that fired my girlfriend?!” He repeats, shouting so loudly that it hurts your ears. What you don’t notice is who is sitting in the driver seat and the familiar lawyer that is walking down the street, noticing the commotion going on.   It happens too quickly.   The driver of the car moves the man out of the way to see out the window. You recognize the ex-receptionist immediately and she wastes no time to point an accusatory finger at you. Kei frowns and shrieks, “That’s her!”   The man in the passenger seat brings up a bucket from in-between his feet and then there’s a sudden stream that glistens in the morning sunshine. There is the sound of sloshing that follows. The beads glimmer against the light like stars and then it falls like a tsunami.   You’re doused in cold water.   It shocks your system, hair drenched and clothes dripping, doused from head to toe. There are gasps that surround you, people passing by that move out of the way to not get wet. The man shouts, “Drive, drive!” And then tires screech on pavement as it pulls off and zips down the road.   Hoseok runs over towards you and pulls out his phone, swiftly snapping a shot of the license plate before the car is too far gone. If you thought he was furious before, now he was completely livid.   “What the fuck!” His hands curl around your shoulders, firm yet still gentle, and he doesn’t notice when you flinch from his touch. “Are you okay??! Y/N?!” The man searches your face before he locks his eyes with yours.   “I...I’m fine.” You’re violently shivering, still shocked by the sudden change of temperature and also humiliated by people’s stares. “It’s just water, I’m fine. It’ll dry off.”   He doesn’t wait and takes off his suit jacket, draping it over you as if it could warm you up and shield you away from stranger’s gazes. The security guard of the building runs out while catching his breath and Hoseok casts one mere glance at him. “Give me the footage of that security camera.”   “You got it,” he responds and goes off again.   “Hoseok.”   “Do you have a change of clothes with you? Actually no, go home,” he says it quickly, nearly getting whiplash at how fast he turns to look at you again. You can’t imagine taking the subway in this state and he must read your expression well with the next question he asks. “Did you drive here or do you need me to drive you home? Wait, no, we need to file a police report as soon as possible. Okay, let me drive you home to change and then we can head to the police station and file a police report.”   “Wait…”   “We can get a restraining order by noon. See if we can press charges on grounds of harassment and assault and verbal abuse. From now on, I’m your attorney, understand?”   “Listen to me,” you say as calmly as possible whilst gazing into his eyes. “I don’t want to press charges or file a police report. I’m fine.”   His jaw clenches and the knit between his brows deepen. “No. You do not get to argue with me on this.”   “It was water. You’re making a big deal out of nothing.” You just want to go away from the prying eyes and pitiful stares. “I’ll dry off. And she was just upset, she lost her job.”   “That does not justify her actions. Why do you let this happen to you?! Are you really okay with it?!” Hoseok’s composure is completely lost and he steps away, running a frustrated hand through his hair. “Fine, you might not want to press charges, but I’m still going to get a restraining order for this office. I have a responsibility to protect my employees, do you understand? And you are my employee. No one is allowed to hurt you or put you in danger.”   You’re caught in a trance, staring into his brown irises that seems to catch light in all the right places. Eventually, you’re pulled back to attention when Sunyi comes rushing over, asking what happened. Miraculously, the lawyer has a change of clothing since she was planning to switch to more formal attire to meet an important client at two. She’s happy to let you borrow her clothes.   The ride up to the floor is uncomfortable and smothering. Everyone in the office stops to gawk, baffled out of their minds at the sight of you, considering you look like you went showering in your attire. But no one whispers or murmurs since Hoseok stomps into Jimin’s office and the door slams shut, hard enough to cause the hinges to break and the goddamn wall to crumble.   You change and Seulgi makes a cup of hot coffee to warm you up. Even Lisa lingers in the kitchen and asks if you’re alright.   Within the hour, Hoseok appears again, beelining from his partner’s office to yours. He seems much calmer now, vein no longer popping at his forehead, wrinkles no longer prominent and brows not furrowed. “I know you don’t want to press charges. Tell me if you change your mind, but the entire firm is getting a restraining order against both parties. She will not be allowed to be within five hundred meters of this office building.”   There’s an extended silence.   The lawyer nods, having nothing more to say and he turns to walk out. “Hoseok.” Your voice stops him. “Thank you.”   “It’s a given,” he murmurs in an oddly softer tone and then turns so you can see the profile of his visage. The edge of his mouth lifts. “You’re my responsibility, you know....even if you are a headache.”   You smile back at him and he leaves.

//

As usual, with the new low, comes a new high. And you can only hope naively that things stay this way forever. Rumours of what Kei did to you spread and they evolve to become wilder versions — ones where you threw yourself in front of Hoseok and protected him, or she had hired a hitman to harm people in the office, but you blocked the entrance and protected them. If anything, you’re amused over these stories.   But more importantly, the employees of the firm become more pleasant towards you, like when you first joined and won their trust. Maybe they turned a new leaf because they finally realized your job wasn’t as jolly and chummy as it seemed on the outside. Maybe they felt guilty since in the back of their minds, they knew you were being shunned. Maybe their kindness derives from pity.   Whatever the case may be, you don’t mind.   The others are surprised at how Sebin is close to you. She chooses to sit beside you during lunchtime in the break room and chatters on happily. She even tells you how she got accepted into the first post-secondary institution of her choosing and Hoseok wrote her one of the best recommendation letters that brought her to tears; it turns out the lawyer isn’t angry that she isn’t staying.   Before the paralegal leaves, everyone celebrates with cake in the conference room, bidding her goodbye and telling her to visit. You’re sad that one of your best friends have left, but it doesn’t last too long when Seulgi invites you out to lunch one afternoon and the two of you have a fun chat. Even Sunyi has returned to your office every other day to do her regular complaints about Yoongi.   Things are good.   For the most part.   “Good morning.”   “Morning.”   The elevator doors shut and the tension between you two and the small space is enough to suffocate you. You should’ve known he was close behind you and maybe you would’ve waited for another elevator or took the stairs. Sure, you probably would’ve ended up sticky with sweat, but it would be better than standing alone next to Jung Hoseok.   All you do is focus on the rising numbers flashing over the doors….   Until there’s a large ‘clack’, the floor jolting and causing you to grip the side bars. The overhead lights flash for a moment. The bulbs die off, engulfing you in darkness before flickering back on.   “That doesn’t sound good,” you mutter underneath your breath and Hoseok moves to spam the elevator buttons. They don’t light up. The elevator doesn’t move. The numbers stay the same.   He curses and hits the ‘call for help’ button.   “Not again.” He fishes out his phone and speed dials Jimin. At the same time, the intercom flares to life and he doesn’t wait for them. “We’re stuck in elevator two between floors seven and eight.”   The woman on the other side remains impassive. “We’re on our way.”   Jimin doesn’t pick up and he hangs up with a sigh. Wonderful. As if being in the same elevator with just Hoseok wasn’t painful enough, now you were trapped with him. Trapped. For god knows how long.   “Does….” You attempt to break the silence and you finally shift to look at him. “Does this happen often?”   “Often enough for it not to be surprising,” Hoseok mutters and sits on the ground. You decide to follow his lead, moving to lean up against the corner of the elevator with your legs out in front of you. There’s a moment of quiet before the lawyer speaks, “The last time this damn elevator did this, it was stuck for four hours.”   He pauses and looks at you, smooth timbre quieting, “We should designate a peeing corner. My bladder is beginning to hurt.”   Your eyes are full of horror. “Wh-what?”   “I’m kidding!” He laughs at your expression. The sound of his laughter is tinkling, foreign to your ears. It’s as if sunshine itself is emitting from his mouth. “In what world would I actually piss in the corner of an elevator? And we’ll probably get out here in ten minutes.”   “Oh.” It was a joke.   Hoseok’s little chuckles fade off and he looks at you with a smile. “Lighten up, you always act like I’m going to bite your head off.”   “Aren’t you?” Underneath your placid exterior, you’re shaken from his lightheartedness and teasing. At the moment, you’re not too sure who’s sitting next to you and if this is the same man who rules the office with an iron fist. But you know this is also a part of him he doesn’t show in the firm — though it painfully reminds you of something long ago.   “That would get me arrested and trust me, you don’t want to see prison version of Hoseok.”   You grin at how he refers to himself in third person. “What’s prison version of Hoseok?”   “Someone who tries to escape and fails and ends up crying pathetically on a cold prison floor with a tramp stamp tattoo of a red butterfly,” he drones on and ends up sounding completely done with his life. You can’t help the giggles that bubble up your throat and he smiles, able to make both your predicaments better.   The elevator suddenly creaks, sounding like nuts and bolts tumbling and you quirk your head to one side, grabbing the bar by your head tighter. “The elevator won’t suddenly fall, right? We won’t die, right?”   “Don’t worry. If we do, the building will be liable for our deaths and Jimin will sue them.”   “Great to know I’ll have a chunk of money in my coffin,” you deadpan and this time, he’s the one laughing. You watch the way his mouth draws up slightly into a heart shape when he’s grinning and how his eyes crinkle softly. The words spill before you can stop them. “Do you really not remember?”   His laughs slowly fade away, the last of them streaming from his chest before he looks over at you, tilting his chin towards you, lips together but still pulled into a smile. “Remember what?”   You stare at him for a moment before tearing your eyes to the closed silver doors. “Never mind.”   “No.” He won’t take no for an answer, not when his irises are sparkling with both mischief and curiosity. “What is it?”   “Nothing.” You shrug. “There’s no point if you don’t remember. It was like twelve years ago.”   “What? Did you do me wrong and now I don’t remember?”   “Not telling.”   “Tell,” he demands childishly and leans over like he’s going to crawl closer to you. You’d rather climb up the elevator shaft like Spiderman and end up dying because you’re not Spiderman than to have him close the already small distance between the two of you.   “Okay fine!” Luckily, he stops moving and you swallow hard. “I freeloaded off a group project with you.” You watch his reaction. “If you didn’t notice on my résumé, we went to the same university. But actually, we were also in the same finance class in our second year together. It was a long time ago.”   “That’s it?” An endeared expression appears on his features. “That’s what you were so worried about?”   “Of course, I’m worried! I freeloaded off of you! We were supposed to meet at a library, but I was in a board game club and I ditched you because I was winning at Monopoly.” As if it helps, you add on, “Which I ended up winning, by the way.”   “Really?” The little shit is grinning, finding your story all the too amusing, from how you were in a board game club to how you actually knew each other and not just by name.   “We failed.”   “Well, that’s not too bad.” He muses, “Thought there was something deeper or more important.”   “It was forty percent of our grade,” you counter.   There’s a bit of a pause and then he shrugs. “.....I still made it as a lawyer and you made it as an HR member.”   Since all of this is out and the open, you figure you might as well spill all the beans. “And you may or may not have asked me out to a coffee date, but I rejected you.” A part of you almost hopes that he’ll remember. Except, he doesn’t.   “Okay, now I’m just hurt.” He puts a hand over his chest where his heart should be, an over dramatic reaction and he gasps. “How could you?” You laugh and he smiles at the sound, arm dropping into his lap. “Sounded like we were friends back then.”   “Acquaintances,” you correct.   “Well, the past is the past and it’s not like I can even remember, so you can stop tiptoeing around me.”   “I’m not tiptoeing!” You defend, despite it being a complete lie. For the first time, you actually feel at ease being in Hoseok’s presence, like the weight of the past is no longer on your shoulders. It’s nice to talk to him like this, like the both of you are adults with no baggage or resentments.   “Yeah, you are.” His eyebrow is cocked. “I know the rest of them are scared of me, but they have reason to be. You don’t. You haven’t fucked up yet.”   You’re surprised. “I haven’t?”   “Annoying if anything, but no, you haven’t really.”   “I’m glad.” You smile to yourself, fiddling with your fingers and looking in your lap. There’s another thought that comes into your mind, but you wonder if you would be overstepping your boundaries. Still, you can’t imagine a better time than now. Your voice is a soft whisper when you speak, full of hesitancy, “Was your accident that bad that you can’t remember anything?”   “Hey!” He scoffs in offence. “I remember everything. Just not the small details like acquaintances and stuff. But yeah, I hit a lamp post on the highway and ended up in the hospital for a year of recovery. It was rough.”   “I’m sorry.”   “It’s fine. It actually worked out in the end since Jimin came to me and told me he had plans of opening a law firm one day and wanted me as a partner. That helped me get off my ass and I finished my third year of law school, did a year of articling for another divorce firm, and then Jimin and I started this place.”   “That’s really amazing.” The words spill out in awe.   “A lot of sleepless nights.”   “But you made it.”   “Sure did.” He turns to gaze at you. “You did too.”   “Yeah…”   The ten-minute estimate turns into twenty and with enough of Hoseok yelling over the intercom for what’s taking so long, you both eventually get freed from the elevator. The paralegals end up crowding you after, asking if being trapped with Hoseok for that long was as horrible as it seemed and if you wanted to hit your head on the walls and die, but you only shrug and keep your responses positive.   In reality, you enjoyed talking to him a lot. You missed it.   Hoseok disappears for the rest of the day for court proceedings, Yoongi and Taehyung following him and giving him a headache with their bickering. It’s almost as if the conversation and reconnection never happened and you’re a bit disappointed, but then the next day, you have him knocking on your door.   “Is there something wrong?”   “No.” He plops down his second coffee on your desk and takes a sip with the one in his right hand. You stare at the cup, not sure what he wants you to do with it or if he’s putting it down temporarily. “It’s yours.”   You hold it, looking up at him. “Mine?”   “It’s my offering of our truce.”   Truce. Hoseok ends up leaving without looking at you and your bright smile.   In your life, you’ve never had such delicious coffee before.

#Bts fanfic #bts scenario #bts fluff #hoseok fluff #hoseok fanfic #BTS JUNG HOSEOK AS.....an asshole??? OR IS HE??// #OC who's past is shady as allll hellll

[janiedean]

If you're still taking the arcana prompts - sam for the emperor, stannis for justice (obvious choice, lol)

OKAY SORRY FOR THE LATENESS AGAIN LET’S SEE (yeah I’m like... slowly catching up oooops) have some crack for the sam one I guess ;) I’m blanking on the stannis one rn but I have it down maybe I’ll make it a third part of those two other prompts but I wanted to have this out before it took me another week to get to the rest of the ask ;) have fun!

--

The Emperor: wisdom, ego, authority, inflexibility

“You aren’t serious,” Sam stammers as he glances at each single face in the room.

Too bad that none of them look like they’re joking.

“Absolutely,” Tyrion Lannister says. “Jon Snow specifically recommended you before saying he would... take a trip to Dorne for the next couple of months.”

Sam loves Jon, he does, but - he did say he intended to not take the damned throne regardless of his surname, and yes, well, he did go to Dorne with Aegon, and Daenerys Targaryen left to go back to Essos with her dragons a week ago saying that she realized that the throne wasn’t what she wanted, and so both Targaryens were gone and fine, Stannis Baratheon lost an arm fighting the Others and said he wouldn’t press the claim further because he was tired, so they all had agreed on Shireen Baratheon taking her rightful place as his heir... except that she needs a regent.

And everyone has decided that it has to be him.

What in the Seven Hells?

“My lord,” Sam tries again, “it’s really not a sound prospect.”

“Why not?” Jaime Lannister shrugs. “Your late father was the last Hand this realm had while Targaryens still hadn’t all showed up again out of nowhere.” Sam wishes really, really badly that Aegon Targaryen hadn’t also stayed around to stake his claim, but he also was burned pretty badly during the Long Night and had decided he’d rather take a tour of Dorne with his newfound brother rather than press his claim, even if it was kind of agreed before both of them left that at some point he might marry Shireen and they’d unite their claims, and admittedly there was one good precedent of a Targaryen and Baratheon marriage, may they be the new Aemon and Jocelyn, Sam thinks -

But he never asked to be nominated for this job.

“And what does that even mean?” Sam protests. “I don’t - I barely even got half of my chain, what do I know of being someone’s regent?”

“Please,” Davos Seaworth says, “the girl is positively smitten with you and your pretty wildling wife, I think she was teaching her to read last I checked, and the last thing she needs is someone ordering her around or making her feel like she’s not listened to, and you would be good at that.”

“Also,” Brynden Tully presses on, “there has to be someone who actually has some knowledge ruling this damned realm since the last few kings were either not sound or they didn’t care or surely hadn’t revised history recently.”

“Anyway,” Jon Connington says, nodding, “you will get a new kingsguard and so on, so it’s not like you need to guard her. And from what we’ve seen you know your history, you know your strategies, you actually think before you act and you listen to people.”

“Oh, so none of you also does, my lords?”

Tyrion snorts, shrugging without sounding too sad for his predicament. “Separately, we’re all of that. But you’re the only one of us who has all of those qualities and hasn’t somehow botched their first chance at holding some authority in this damned realm. Never mind that you don’t seem like the sort who chases power at all costs. And Snow did recommend you specifically when we all wanted him, and it’s not like we can ask anyone else named Stark since they’re all counseling their brother in the North, so... I’m sorry, but it’s an offer I’m afraid you can’t refuse, my lord.”

Sam takes a deep breath.

He is going to personally punch Jon in the face when he’s back.

That said -

That said, after all, Shireen is a lovely girl, and he does like her, and she does like Gilly, and she’s very sweet, and if he gets help then he might actually not die of panic at the mere idea of doing this - shit, if his father could see him, at eighteen, being asked to be Shireen’s fucking regent, he’d never believe that.

Maybe that is what makes him half-smile and decide that maybe he could try.

“Well,” he says, “if I say yes, it means that my word is law until she comes of age and I can choose both Hand and small council, right?”

“Unless you wish to be Hand as well,” Tyrion says.

“No, that would be - too much. All right,” he sighs. “I accept.”

Everyone else in the room takes a breath of relief.

Then Sam smiles to himself again. “So, I should start with two things. One is choosing the small council and the other would be having that throne destroyed.”

At that, all eyes point to him.

“Destroyed?” Connington asks.

“Yes,” Sam says. “It’s uncomfortable, it cuts anyone who might come close to it and it only brought ill omens to this realm since... gods, probably since Jaehaerys the first died, I think we can do without. Other than that... since we have to choose the council, I should like to do it now since I am surrounded by people I have learned to know and trust.”

“Of course,” Tully says, “who were you thinking of?”

Sam smiles. “Well, as I wouldn’t want a Hand who is hungry for power and who would say things as they are, I think I want Ser Jaime for it.”

The face Lannister makes the moment Sam asks is worth the entire effort he’s going to have to put into this job for the next three years. Hopefully it won’t be longer than that.

“What -”

“You aren’t hungry for power and you would tell things as they are. Also, I know that you would say no because you cannot wait to finally end your betrothal to Lady Brienne and move to the next stage -” Lannister has the grace to clear his throat and look away, “- I was thinking of asking her to handle both Shireen’s guard and the gold cloaks. Of course she shouldn’t take vows or anything if not to you, but I need a capable knight to pick the Queensguard and to make sure the gold cloaks are better run than with Janos Slynt, and she sounds like a perfect candidate.”

“Shall I go fetch her?” Tyrion Lannister asks, sounding a bit too in a hurry to do so.

“Of course,” Sam smirks, “but not before I tell you I would appreciate you as master of whisperers. After all, you did learn from Lord Varys and you can be discreet if you want to. And I’m sure that having a Hand not wanting to murder the master of whisperers and viceversa might actually be a good thing for the realm, wouldn’t it?”

He knows he has the both of them when they both sigh in the exact same way -shows they’re brothers - and accept as long as Brienne does, too, but Sam knows she would. That’s not a problem. Then, he turns towards the rest of the room as Tyrion leaves. “Also, I should like for Ser Davos as master of laws, since he has been serving someone who has been only fair and just until now but has also shown to be more... shall we say, flexible about it.”

“Of - of course,” Davos nods, looking at him with... something like respect.

“I should hope you won’t want me as a maester of coin or ships,” Tully says. “I’m hardly a good choice for either.”

“Fair enough,” Sam grins, “but I’m sure you could help out Lady Brienne with organizing things for the cloaks and the guards around the palace. We need men with experience around here.”

“Very well,” Tully says. “You certainly are seeming to choose every single person who didn’t want to be involved with running this kingdom, aren’t you?”

Sam smiles back. “That seems to be the best way to make it thrive now, isn’t it? Now, since it seems like your son, Lord Connington, will eventually marry Shireen, I certainly cannot leave you out of the small council, that would be just improper. And since you did raise high in that Golden Company of yours, I think you should be my master of ships.”

Connington sends him a half-resigned smile. “Very well. And what about the master of coin?”

Sam smiles wider. “Oh, that can be Jon’s title when he comes back from Dorne. He did good when he was managing resources at the Watch, after all.” At that, Jaime Lannister does laugh as if he finds it very amusing.

“Hells,” he says, “we’re going to be the only council in the story of this realm where not a single person wanted to sit on. Should I send for... some maester from the Citadel, at this point?”

Sam shakes his head. “Send for Alleras,” he says. “I... knew them when I was there myself. They’re young,” he shrugs, “but they were very ahead in their studies.”

“And who is this Alleras, pray tell?”

Sam tries to not laugh. “Someone who will please the princess of Dorne very much, I think,” he says. “So, my lords, are we ready to rule this realm?”

“Absolutely not,” Jaime says, “but at least it’s going to be just for three years.”

Unless Shireen is very satisfied with us, Sam doesn’t say.

If anything, because as much as he thinks she’s a lovely girl and he’ll do his best... he really isn’t looking forward to do this job any longer than that.

#samwell tarly #my fic #arcana prompts #*cough* #THIS IS CRACK IDC #jaime x brienne for ts #Anonymous #ask post

[cartooness]

‘I am NOT blushing, it’s just warm in here.’ For the masonder drabbles pls?

"Alright, Lav. You can do this, he's right there. Just go up to him and ask him out! Can't be that hard... right?"

Lavender was nervous beyond belief, she's never done anything like this before. But she's read enough books to know that to move the plot along, you've gotta go for it or you'll be screaming in frustration later.

Mason Adalbert. The one boy who could send her heart a flutter and turn her whole being to mush with a smile. He didn't seem like the kind of boy "girls like her" would go for; but she didn't give any fucks about that. He was cute as a button, smart, was super kind, and drank his respect women juice. Did she mention he was absolutely adorable?

She fixed her collar, adjusted her romper, and tousled her hair a bit. Here goes nothing.

"Mason."

He looked up from cleaning his glasses. "Yeah?"

fUCk he's cute, "Um. I was, um, hoping that. Um.", 'God I'm going nowhere, just cut to the chase.' she thought to herself. "Would you go out with me? Uh, please?"

He looked at her with a blank stare as he adjusted his glasses, "Me? Are. Are you sure?" 'Of course it's you!', she hastily thought.

"Yes, you. I'm sure of it. I um.. would really like to go out with you."

His cheeks flushed red and he gave a shy smile. "Yes. I'd love to. Where.... were ya thinking of going?"

Time for her plan! "Well, I was thinking of going to the roller rink tomorrow because it's Half Price Thursday. Plus, I've never been and I just thought it'd be fun... and yeah." God, she hoped she didn't look or sound too awkward.

"Ooh that does sound like fun, Lavender! What time were you thinking of-"

Ah, shit, Sheila's coming...

"Well, well, well, look at what we've got here! A goth wannabe prude asking out a boring little prude nerd. What a perfect pair, I'll bet-"

Lavender bared her claws, "Sheila Anderson get the fuck out of my face before I slice your damn neck off."she growled.

"Jeez bitch, calm down, I was just leaving", replied Sheila, annoyance and fear in her voice.

"Good." And with that, Lav went back to her business. "I'm so sorry Mason, I HATE when she talks to people like that, especially people I... like. Um, i was thinking around 5:30. Will that work for you?"

"Uhh yeah, that sounds good! Let me just, um, write it down really quick in my Little Tiny Journal for Various Things. ((Authors note, I actually have a notebook that says that on me at all times. XD))"

"Alrighty! It's a date! See ya then, bye! One of my dads should be here by now to, uh, pick me up haha."

He pulled her into a quick hug, "Bye Lav!"

...

She shouldn't have said a single thing. Lav had just come home to a small swarm of deadbeats, and not quite thinking, she spilled the beans about her upcoming date with Mason to them. But the thing about them is, they're like little kids; they'll repeat what they hear to anyone who'll listen. Excited about the news, they roamed around telling everyone in HQ that 'Lavender has a date with a boy tomorrow!' over and over again.

"Dang it, now I'll probably have to deal with- oh no he's pounding on my door."

"LAVENDER DEARIE, PLEASE LET ME IN, I HAVE TO KNOW ALL THE BITS AND DETAILS ABOUT YOUR DATE!! OH MY GODS, WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO WEAR-"

"Calm down Decan, you're going to break down my door!! Come in, we'll talk, I promise."

She let him in and he immediately started asking his burning questions, "Who is it!? Who's the lucky lad!? I'm all ears!!" With a sigh, she prepared herself to answer his 300 questions. "Well, it's Mason,-"

"HAH!! I KNEW IT!! LEWIS, YOU OWE ME 20 DOLLARS!!" he exclaimed.

"Um. Alright then. Mason and I are going to the roller rink tomorrow at 5:30 for Half Price Thursday."

"Ooh! I have a couple of outfit ideas that will make him fall head over heels for you~" he replied, ready to plan.

"Fine. But I get to choose the shoes."

"Deal! Let's see what they are so I can plan accordingly!"

She phased through her walk in closet and pulled out her choice of shoes, recieving a slight grimace from Decan. "These ones. I insist."

Decan took a large inhale, "Darling, I  L O V E  you, but I'm starting to regret that deal... I just... can't quite DEAL with those shoes... but! I like a challenge, so let's see what I can do!"

The shoes in question were knee high tye dye Converse in the demi romantic and asexual flag colors, but the green and purple colors were neon; not the easiest thing to match, that's for sure.

What felt like AGES later, Decan found an outfit consisting of a shin length black dress with lavender lace trim on the bottom, completed with sheer tights. He looked as if he was in the nth dimension, proud to have accomplished an impossible seeming task. "I DID IT!!! FINALLY!!!"

"Yes you did! I feel cute uwu."

"Well, you ARE cute!" he replied, stating his facts.

"....fine. I'll let you have it this ONE time." she replied, a small blush on her face.

"Alrighty then! Let's go downstairs, everyone is a buzz with excitement about your first date~"

So downstairs they went, and about four seconds later E V E R Y O N E was shooting the same rapid fire question,

"LAV WHO ARE YOU GOING ON A DATE WITH?!?!"

With a sharp inhale, she spilled the tea, "I'm going on a date with Mason, he's the cutie I'm always talking about." 

"And YOU, LEWIS PEPPER, OWE ME TWENTY BUCKAROOS!! FORK IT OVER!!" bellowed Decan, thrilled to have predicted correctly for once.

A slight grumble was heard from the back of the living room, and an annoyed deadbeat swarmed over with a twenty dollar bill and put it in Decan's waiting hands, "thank you!!~"

Everyone shared their excitement for the girl, along with a bit of worry about what could happen, but Lavender assured them that Mason is a very kind person. Plus, if anything happens, she always has a way to get out of a situation; magic and her amazing combat skills.

...

The day had come, and Lav had just been dropped off at the roller rink. She began looking for Mason until she felt a tap on her shoulder.

"Hey! Looking for me?~" he announced, playful smirk on his face.

"Actually, yes. Sorry to keep you waiting, one of my dads took a bit longer than I thought doing my makeup... but hey! I'm not technically late, it's only 5:19." she replied.

"Oh please, you're worth the wait."

"What?"

"What?"

Both teens had a dusting of red on their faces, standing in an awkward silence.

"Umm, you look very nice! Love the shoes, must've taken ages to match haha." Mason chimed, nervously laughing.

"Aww, thank you. My Papa Decan almost gave in trying to find something, twas funny." she replied.

"Lav?"

"Yeah?"

"How. How many dads do you have, um, exactly? Are they polyamorous or, uh, something to that extent?" he asked, curious.

"Oh, that! No, they're not all poly, I'm adopted and a bunch of people have shared custody over me, so I basically have like, a dozen parents at this point pretty much. And all but two are men, so that's why I have a bunch of dads. Funny thing is, they're all in their mid-to-late twenties, so they're not quite on that 'dad age level' but I don't care. They all make bad jokes and are very caring so... yeah, haha. Don't tell anyone, but I'd totally do anything for them, all my caretakers. I love them a lot, and they all love me a lot, and I don't deserve them most of the time." she warmly replied, softly smiling to herself. Mason felt his cheeks warm up and his eyes were likely shining.

"Awww, that's so sweet! Also, you SO deserve each other! I like to think that things usually happen for some reason one way or another, and I think it's wonderful that they found you and that you all care for each other so much! Wh-why are you crying? Are you alright?"

She touched her face and realized 'yep those are mascara tears alright.'

"Oh, um, I'm okay. Sorry, I didn't even see I was crying. Um, let's, um, go inside, it's getting dark... or something. Haha." Lav replied, trying to move the date along.

"Oh, um, ok. Do you... want a hug?" he asked, trying to make her feel better.

"Yes please, I'd love that."

And with that, he pulled her into a warm hug, taking in each others warmth with a smile. 'She smells like warm apple pie... no wonder she's so wonderful...'

After what felt like An eternity, they departed and both were blushing messes.

"Um-"

"I am NOT blushing, it's just warm in here." snapped Lav, not sure what to do with these... warm,,, happy static feelings.

"Wait, you're  B L U S H I N G?? You look so cute though!" he replied back, smile in his eyes.

"Wha, uh, I-I do NOT!!",she sputtered, blushing deeper, "YOU'RE the cutie here! With your beautiful silver eyes, your soft caramel hair, and your breathtaking smile that I like so much! Not to mention, you're SUPER smart and nice and, and, GENUINE!! Do you know how many times literal DIRTBAGS have tried to flirt with me? They're always weird and gross and I do NOT like it, and I don't like how it's easily accepted for them to be all... X rated all the time!! Like, it may be cause I'm ace and repulsed by s*xual stuff, but still! Don't be gross, people!" she outburst, recieving some strange glances.

"*sigh*, I'm sorry Mason, let's go inside now, people are staring and I don't want them to do anything to you." she softly spoke, gently holding his back for him to follow her.

"...thank you. For, um, everything. It means a lot to me, stuff like that. Again, thank you so much.", he whispered, not sure what to say or do. "...am I making this, uh, awkward for you, Lavender? I'm really sorry if I am-"

"No, you're fine it's, uh, all good. Let's go get skates and such already, haha." she nervously replied, finally walking inside.

...

They were having a surprisingly good time, despite the shaky beginning. Both were doing laps around the rink, holding onto the perimeter every ten seconds due to fear of falling. But they got the hang of it, carefully skating around. They kept tapping hands, unsure of whether or not it was appropriate to join them together. Finally, Mason went in for the kill and took ahold of her hand. She felt a smile creep up her face, and held his hand back.

"Your hand fits nicely into mine, ya know." he smiled.

"Yeah. It does." she replied back, pressing a soft kiss to his knuckles, and him in return blushing like crazy. "Aww, you're so cute when you're blushing, Mason."

WELL THAT TOOK FOREVER LMAO. Sorry for the excessive length, it turned into a full on fic lol. Hope you enjoyed it anyway!!

Also Decan belongs to @thefearanddespair

EDIT: This is for the Villain!Lav AU, I forgot to mention it lol

#mystery skulls animated #mystery skulls #cartooness writes sometimes #lavender grey #mason adalbert #masonder #villain!lav au #writing stuff

[rhyaxxyn]

WIP Intro: CROSSWATER

You can argue that your home is the W O R S T, the most P E C U L I A R, the C R U E L E S T in the whole of A N D R A S T E, but I know the truth, and the truth is that C R O S S W A T E R is the worst place I’ve ever had the misfortune of living in... 

But it is H O M E.

⇒TITLE: Crosswater

⇒THEMES: Coming of age |  Power and corruption |  Prejudice | War | Self-Reliance | Oppression | Religion | Self Empowerment

⇒RATING: Teen and Up

⇒GENRE: High Fantasy

⇒SUB-GENRE: Dark Fantasy | Romance | Religion | Politics

⇒POV: Third person limited

⇒STATUS: Plotting/Outlining

In the peculiar city of Crosswater strangeness is nothing unusual. But no one mentions the thieves at the edge of town, the quiet Captain of the Guard with a hoard of secrets, the Lord and his wife with ambitious affairs, and the too smart, too good singer. After all, it has always been ordinary to them. 

Then a woman arrives in the city with a wild power no one could’ve predicted. She brings with her soldiers sworn to her name and a sigil of the distant Hell witch empire, Darah. A proposal she hopes they will not ignore. Her name is Nemesis Lorelai Macaria, and she is the last princess of the remaining witches of Hell.

She will have to befriend the master thief with a silver tongue, the siren-like woman who fears nothing and no one, the Captain who will provoke her until she snaps, the rebellious Lady of Crosswater with a quick wit, and the orphan girl from a distant land if she is to succeed in her plan. But first, she must convince them to accept her as who she is. A witch--and a servant of Hell.

It should be easy enough.

Nemesis Macaria: The hero. Crude, abrupt sense of humor. Broken childhood. Unable to empathize with many people. Usually very independent in her adventures. Seems like shes killed a lot of people but no one really knows. Talented in dark witch-craft and necromancy. Eighteen: too young for this but having fun anyway. Keeps her composure no matter what.

Cassius Verlander: The unlikely friend. Loud. Loves challenging authority. Only steals from the rich people of Crosswater because “fuck the bourgeoisie.” Mean but cannot kill anyone. A secret cinnamon roll. Angry. Greatest thief in the Andraste. Loves the black market. Knows the price of everything in your house and everything in your body.

Corvina Naida: An actual goddess. Really sweet and lets it show. Still doesn’t let herself get taken advantage of. That one friend everyone loves. Knows how to manipulate people when she wants to. Unbelievably talented. So much so that Nemesis is thinking that maybe she might just be an actual goddess. Gets ahead of herself. Too confident at times. Will love you unconditionally.

Soter Adrestia: Dick to prick to a genuinely nice guy. Very closed off. Thousands of secrets and not enough time to tell them all. Kills people but always feels guilty about. Likes insulting criminals and strangers who he doesn’t trust even though he’s probably the most untrustworthy person alive. You know the phrase skeletons in the closet? Yeah. He most likely has like fifty tucked away in his. Real ones too.

Orlaith Clearwater: Victim of whoever the fuck thought the patriarchy was a good idea. Hates her husband because she didn’t have a choice. Her life has always been trade agreements. Sick of this bullshittm. Definitely a huge lesbian. Sometimes has more affairs with women than her husband. Will do anything to destroy him. Is going to kill the next person who calls her exotic.

Eris Lada: Loyal as all hell. Would happily kill anyone for Nemesis and not feel an ounce of regret. Seems a lot older than they let on. Totally shocked by the way equality and respect isn’t common in other places. Like, wot? Secretly trying her best but failing. Will not ask for help. Everything she does is reverse psychology.

Apate Gianna: Quiet. Lowkey a huge bitch. Acts tough but really isn’t. Gives off a weird vibe. Orphaned when she was young. Grew up alone. Social queues? What are those? Has she looked at you lately? If so, she probably hates you.

Fervain Clearwater: NO REDEEMING QUALITIES. Probably the worst person alive. Misogynist, racist, homophobic, #godlover. Not even worthy of the title antagonist. Nemesis would have just killed him if not for this damn agreement. Redeeming quality? Killable.

The story of Crosswater takes place in the kingdom of Andraste. It is split in two by the Lethe mountain range. Crosswater lies along the northern coast of Andraste’s western island where the forests are abundant and the temperatures are commonly frigid. Although it is small, it holds an abundance of power over the neighboring kingdoms of Tarasi, Elpys, and Isoldé. Although the western island is the weaker of the two it still holds much political prominence, especially in Crosswater where Fervain has been lord for more than two centuries.

In Crosswater, there are two rivers--one flowing north to south and the other flowing east to west. These rivers are believed to be a center of religious power which allows a greater connection between the citizens of Andraste and The One True. Many will frequently go on a pilgrimage to this location for enlightenment. 

Humans: Within Andraste’s borders humans are the most common. The majority of them lack power and live to 75 on average. Though through rigorous studying beginning at a young age humans can hone an element. Those of which being ice, lightning, wind, earth, nature, mind, space, blood, water, and fire. It can take anywhere from ten to twenty-five years to master an element.

Witches: Witches are creatures belonging either to the Aether or Hell. Andraste and it’s neighboring kingdoms had outlawed witches of Hell after the events of the Holy War. Most witches of Hell were killed off in the drownings, though some do remain hidden in Andraste and outside its circle of power. Those witches of Hell reside in either Kenna or Dhara, of which Andraste has been at a stalemate with for the past six centuries. Witches of the Aether can live up to 2,000 years, and it is rumored that when they pass they are resurrected as angels. No one knows how long witches of Hell live for, due to the fact that they have always been hunted and prosecuted except in Kenna and Dhara where their secrets are well hidden, but many believe that when they do die they come back as demons.

Witches are born with abilities. Witches of hell are more prone to do unnatural magic, while Aether witches do natural magic in order to keep The One True’s order. Though, in cases of great strife, a witch may utilize an opposite power. Even if they are born with abilities witches can work to hone one single ability.

Angels: Rare. Sovereigns among the other species. Frequently in roles of great power. Although none have died natural deaths yet it is shown that they do age slowly and that they can be killed, making them slightly vulnerable. Angels possess the ability to contact The One True, manipulate light, and take possession of other beings, though some do have immunity to their mind control. 

Demons: Despite the fear many feel towards demons very few have met them, and most who did have lived to tell about it. They, unlike Angels, can maintain a deep connection with the Fallen One. Most demons possess the ability to use magic as well as manipulate darkness. Not only that, but they can take possession of beings as well with seemingly no limit to this power.

Dragons: Beings with the ability to shapeshift and manipulate flames, ice, clouds, or water. After many years of interbreeding, bloodlines became diluted, leading to pure bloodlines to quickly take power throughout the four kingdoms.

Nymphs: Guardians of different areas of nature. They serve the world--not Aether or Hell. Sought out in times of confusion because of their natural desire to search for balance.

Ghosts: Creatures that had once served witches during the Holy War. They have the ability to shapeshift into any animal form as well as into apparitions. When their service became unneeded they turned to work in an array of dangerous fields because of their power to shift through solid matter and remain invisible to. 

⇒

this wip is not something I planned to get so into but now that I’ve brainstormed all of this I may begin writing it while I’m editing TNO!!! I do plan on posting OC intros and more on Crosswater though probably not until I’ve finished outlining. Please ask me questions about this so I can keep brainstorming and developing my characters and the plot. 

Let me know if you would like to be tagged in Crosswater content from now on!

#wip intro #wip introduction #writeblr #writers of tumblr #my wip #crosswater #new wip #new idea #amwriting #world building #ocs #my ocs #original characters #my work #my writing #my novel #high fantasy #fantasy #romance #religion #politics

[rkivepacks]

TITLE: good dreams make you bleed Originally posted on: AO3/dtgloss Pairing: taekook/kookv/vkook (Kim Taehyung & Jeon Jeongguk) Rating: PG13 Genre: Fluff Word Count: 2,081 Trigger Warning/s: Swearing Disclaimer: This work is solely from the idea of the author. Should there be similarities with the works of other respected artists are purely unintentional. This also do not reflect on the real lives of the artists portrayed in this work. Comments, suggestions and any other concerns are accepted in my inbox. Thank you! 

Summary:  i made reservations at a restaurant and the hostess informed me about my company that has already arrived and hey it's you ???? au

Jeongguk is a painter by law. Babysitter by choice.

It started when doing commissions all throughout his junior and senior year of arts school became too much for an arts major to handle all at once because, as his mother once said when he went back home to Busan for a short break ‘you’re in the last two years of your college which also means things get hard and even harder. At some point you have to drop a responsibility or two if you still want to walk the damn convention center and get the diploma yourself.’

Commissions and extra money for better dinner and boba teas be damned. Jeongguk gradually had less commissions coming in and some days and weeks, no commissions at all. He had actual plates and actual student stuff he has to finish unless he wants to repeat his past mistake of almost submitting a commission as his final project.

Jeongguk is officially a graduate. Unemployed definitely not by choice.

The period where he was waiting for his graduation up to the present, the man was busy babysitting on the side, doing some commissions and having art classes for kids during month-long summer camps nearby. Although he hates kids between the ages of six to twelve, it will have to do if he wants to be all mighty and independent as all people born under the sign of virgos do.

“Jeonggukie, Sanhi kept on moving and now my lines are messed up!” One kid from his class that day wailed, pointing to his ruined drawing sheet.

“That’s enough. Sanhi would you mind saying sorry and then finish your work on my table instead?” He reprimands and gives the kid with the ruined sheet, Miri, a new clean one. Jeongguk helps the naughty little boy move farther as not to cause more chaos and goes on with checking the works of the rest of the class.

“Remember to clean your brushes before packing up!” He reminds the kids who thought nodding once or twice would be enough to let their teacher know they heard him.

Eventually he gets tired and sits at the corner, checking the time. Only 43 minutes left until class ends and he can go home and wallow in self-pity. He checks the notifications he didn’t mind during the early hours of the class and figures he can reply to some (hoping some of these were commissions).

From: Joon-hyungoo Jungoo are u gonna go grocery shopping today?? Let me know so I can do it Press 1 for more info.

From: unknown Good afternoon! This is the guardian of Haechin. Do you mind keeping her company for a little while? I won’t be able to make it on time from where I am now. I’m sorry for the trouble.

Jeongguk ponders for a moment before checking the time again, seeing that there are 22 minutes left.

Haechin is the little girl with different hairstyles adorning her head everytime she shows up and her Sofia the First bag she always carries that contains more packed snacks than school materials.

To: Joon-hyungoo Got held up hyung !!!! Can u do it hhhehehek

To: Unknown Hello! I’ll be waiting in the classroom with Haechin. See you!

Later on the kids were dismissed, their parents slowly coming in to check on their child packing up and cleaning. Jeongguk taught the kids that cleaning up the work area is important and all that shit. He calls Haechin over and tells her to occupy the teacher’s table as he cleans up the rest of the materials and his own personal belongings as they wait for Haechin’s guardian.

“Daddy!” Haechin explains and waddles to the door. Jeongguk looks over to where she ran off to, expecting the guardian who was always taking Haechin to and from the art classes only to see a different person this time. He opts to make the connection that this man must be the guardian in the text messages.

Jeongguk shortly wonders if the usual guardian getting Haechin from his classes was the mother or a babysitter. The woman could pass for a mother although she’s young and petite.

The man (in a suit. Definitely not a baby sitter because he doesn’t think babysitters baby sit in suits. Or maybe this is a different household with different house rules?) squishes Haechin’s cheeks to greet her and asks questions about her day before putting his attention to him.

“Hi! Thank you so much. I’m really sorry for this I could not leave for work earlier to make it on time here.” The man in suit who definitely isn’t the babysitter says, extending a hand to Jeongguk.

“Oh. No worries, I don’t have to be somewhere else after this. So. It’s okay, really.” He says, shaking the man (again, in a suit) that was extending his hand to him.

“We’ll get going, I guess. See you soon…” The man trailed off, realizing the two adults do not actually know each other.

“Jeon Jeongguk.” He introduces himself. “I’m the teacher… obviously.” He chuckles.

“Kim Taehyung. I’m Haechin’s dad.” The man in suit says. “It’s getting late so we’ll head out.” He waves and takes a hold of Haechin’s hand.

“See you tomorrow, teacher!” Haechin waves and Jeongguk makes the same gesture before muttering a “bye!” just loud enough for the two to hear. On their way out, voices that could only be attributed to the daughter and father duo in the hallway discusses what to have for dinner and the daughter replying with what she wants for her packed snacks tomorrow instead.

+

The shared apartment sounded eerily quiet and the locked door could only signify that no one was home as of the moment. Jeongguk makes his way to the kitchen only to find a cup in the sink that Namjoon or Hoseok probably used, and assumes that the two went grocery shopping and sending a silent prayer that they don’t miss something essential for Jeongguk’s daily routine (His fortified milk).

The sound of the passcode being punched in outside resonates throughout the apartment, signaling the arrival of the two and as predicted, the sound of numerous supermarket bags being carried into the kitchen. Jeongguk rushes to aid the older men in carrying the large bags before setting them on the counter.

“Why did you get home late? Didn’t I tell you that your curfew is only ten in the evening? Stop spending your lunch money on liquors and cigarettes. Study, Jeongguk.” Hoseok makes a big show of portraying a hardworking mother with a low-class financial background, Jeongguk being the deadbeat son.

“You’re so full of shit, hyung.” He deadpans before laughing at the latter’s antics. Namjoon goes straight for the coldest pitcher of water from the fridge and pours himself a glass, ignoring the usual banter of the two.

Jeongguk checks the fridge if it has been stocked up with fresh groceries (and to make sure his Hoseok hyung does not put another toothpaste in the freezer just because he can. The toothpaste tube ended up in the side of the sink for a whole three days to defrost and to properly be used). Jeongguk decides not to mention the nut tarts that are in the fridge that surely cost more than usual as it was a delicacy being sold in the local supermarket.

After a quick dinner all by himself as he got home late and the two already had their share of the dinner, Jeongguk retreated back to his room to check his other works in progress. One of his wips.

(“The fuck is a wips?” Namjoon asks, incredulously.

“Work in progress, hyung.” Jeongguk answers, half-annoyed his cereal was halted halfway to his mouth. “I thought it meant what in actual phuck.” Hoseok supplements, aiming to high five Namjoon across the table.

The three men laugh at the light joke over instant noodles for snacks.)

“Look at this baby… You’re only lacking a background and a few details, right?” Jeongguk talks to one of the paintings for a client. “Yes… I’m just going to save what’s left of these decent pants and I’ll give my full attention to you.” He sighs, walking over to his drawer full of clothes then to the bathroom.

Jeongguk gets back to his room with his face slightly wet from being washed and a few droplets getting to his top. With a soft playlist of live performances from various ballad artists from youtube, Jeongguk gets to work, opting to not do a grand background and only fixing minor details on the painting.

+

For Friday class Jeongguk had prepared his 17 students their own sheet of paper with a large initial of their first names covering the whole page. The students were bound to think they are in for another game that will surely get the whole class chaotic. Jeongguk promised to never again host another game (someone used a permanent market on the whiteboard that took ages to get off. He looks at the faint mark left on it). Everyone erupts in murmurs and Jeongguk listens to the crazy ideas of toddlers.

“We know how to do the alphabet though.” One wondered aloud.

“Teacher, why is my H bigger than Aehoon’s A?” One asked thoughtfully. “Teacher, Gonghoon wrote on the paper already!” Someone chastised his classmate.

“Okay, listen toddlers.” Jeongguk gathers their attention. Once settled, Jeongguk asks the little children to draw inside the big letters in order to describe themselves. He scans the faces of the children as some were left confused, some already forming ideas, and some were too busy folding the corners of the sheets.

Jeongguk settles to watch over the kids from his place, from where he can see all of them in one vision, with a rough overview of their artworks. Some dived in into work while some were busy watching the others work. He goes around at some point to assist students and to reprimand one for almost ruining a clean sheet of a classmate.

The class ends soon, Jeongguk signhs in relief at the realization that it’s the weekend, he can work on some commissions and rest. He tells all the children to clean up after themselves and to take home the unfinished work and finish it at home. Jeongguk cleans up the rest, only residing to his table once he has managed to fix the mismatched crayons to their proper boxes. He notices that Haechin is tugging at his pants, only the two of them in the room after having the other kids driven home by their guardians and parents.

“Is my daddy not here yet?” Haechin asks.

“Haechin, how about we draw something else? Your father said he’s having trouble looking for your favorite candy right now so he’s running late!” He comforts the child, although he also wonders who’s going to be at the door to get Haechin.

“Haechin?” A familiar voice makes way through the door.

“Daddy, teacher said you got me my candy?” Haechin greets his dad.

“I’m sorry I had to compromise so she wouldn’t feel bad.” Jeongguk rushes to apologize to the distressed father. He does not even know if Haechin is allowed near candies. Save him for panicking.

“It’s okay.” Taehyung smiles apologetically to the man before turning to his daughter. “Baby, your candy is so hard to find, I went everywhere for it but it’s gone?” The father consoles the little child.

As cute as the scene is in front of him, Jeongguk checks the time and he really should be closing his classroom now if he wants to make it home on time before rush hour picks. He tells the same thing (except for the getting home because his car’s coding hits on Fridays so he takes the public transportation) and the father and daughter duo rushes to get home but not before apologizing profusely courtesy of the man.

Haechin waves at him and he manages to choke out a “don’t forget your homework!” and the father smiles at him before the two disappears behind the door.

That night Jeongguk stays up in front of his laptop, using it as a heater on his lap as he browse through his emails and blog. An email confirming a dinner meeting with a new client was opened up to a new window, the secretary of the client of his informing him the details for tomorrow night (as it is the only available time for the busy man, apparently).

+

[end]

[See all works here]

#armysource #bangtanhq #goldenclosetnet #kgfxnet #vhopenet #taekook #bts #vkook #kookv #taekook aus #taekook au #taekook fanfic #bts fanfic #dtgloss 7

[slushrottweiler]

Between the Lines - Part 1

How Varric Tethras fell in love with his editor: a story in letters.

Bioware wont let me romance the dwarf, so I’ll do it myself Read on Ao3

9:28 Dragon

To Ser Tethras,

As you have been informed, your previous editor has parted ways with Kirkwall Publishing, leaving the production of your popular serial, Hard in Hightown, on hiatus. I am writing to introduce myself as Serah Lawfield's replacement, and to inform you that we shall re-commence publishing your serial by the end of this month.

My name is Y/N Y/L/N, and I am very excited to begin working with you on developing your story. I have personally enjoyed reading your work, and believe we can work well together. Whilst I have looked over your previous edits with Lawfield, if you have any requests or person preferences for the editing process, please let me know and I shall attempt to adjust my process to suit you.

If I do not hear back from you within the next week, I shall begin edits on your most recent manuscript as per the in-house style manual.

Thank you again for choosing to work with Kirkwall Publishing. We are honoured to help share your stories.

Hope to hear from you soon, Regards Y/N Y/L/N Editor at Kirkwall Publishing

…...

Here is the information you requested on New editor. Had 3 men tail her. Notes are attached

(a collection of papers, written in three different hands. One page had scratchy drawings of flying books and quills in the margins.)

Y/N Y/L/N Employed at MP for approx 18 months. Human. Free-Marcher. Originally from starkhaven. Low-born. Educated.Young Resided above Hightown markets. Small apartment. Well kept. 6pin double key lock. Well-liked at MP. Professional. Friendly. Considered hardworking and talented. Has a rep for being good at dealing with difficult writers. Arrives late. Stays late. Takes her work home. Drinks 5-8 coffees a day. Strong ties to Coterie. More info incoming.

Coterie ties extend back years. Potential child recruit.

Currently information broker for Kirkwall faction Respected, feared. Background in smuggling and forgery. Negotiated trade deals with Carta.

Left home later than should have , looked tired but was smiling. Carrying large stack of manuscripts. Was greeted with smiles and waves at office. Two men rose to help her carry her things. Another woman brought her coffee without being asked. Wears slim-framed glasses when working. Nibbled on the end of her quill. Many messengers stop by her desk. Cannot all be publishing related. Some notes are placed directly into her bag. Some belligerent author just showed up. Did not interrupt until author started insulting other staff members. Only took her two minutes to calm him down. Author just left. Not only agreed to changes, but seems to think the changes are his idea. Stayed back late to finish work. Took home three manuscripts. Dead dropped letter exchange under lower left paved outside blooming rose. Added to Coterie watch list. Seems to have a preference for sitting on her windowsill at home to work. Doesn't wear pants at home. Legs for days.

……

(A letter, attached to a well-bound and heavily annotated copy of chapter 5 of Hard in Hightown)

To Ser Tethras,

Since you are, unfortunately, too busy to respond to my last message, I kept to my word and have completed a standard but thorough edit of the latest chapter of Hard in Hightown.

I have used industry standard mark ups, and left my annotations in the margins for your perusal. I have also included a detailed list of suggestion changes that I feel will help streamline the story and reduce unnecessary clutter. Whilst I thoroughly enjoyed your imagery, some of your metaphors boarded on purple prose and I felt best to remove to maintain the tension.

If you have any questions, or you would like to discuss my suggestions further, I would be happy to arrange a personal meet up at the location of your choice.

If all is well, please send your approved changes to the Kirkwall Publishing office byclose of business Friday.

Kind Regards, Y/N Y/L/N Editor at Kirkwall Publishing.

…….

(A note, hastily written and torn roughly from a notebook)

Dear Serah Y/N

You can bet your sweet Starkhaven ass I want to discuss your suggestions. I don't know how you've conned your other authors into dancing your jig, but I'm not about to rework my entire story to suit your whims.

Since you we're so generous as to offer to meet at a location I choose, I'll see you at the Hanged Man this evening. Unless, you've grown accustomed to life up in Hightown?

Yours reluctantly, V. Tethras

……

Mr. Tethras,

Looking forward to meeting you.

Y/N

……

(a note attached to the second draft of chapter 5 of Hard in Hightown)

As requested, here is the edited manuscript; well before Friday you may notice. All agreed upon changes have been made, and grammar corrected. No need to get all antsy over commas again.

V. Tethras.

P.S. where did you learn to play Diamondback like that? ….

Thank you for getting those edits back to me so promptly Tethras. I'm so glad you agree to cut those flashbacks in the middle, they dragged the whole pace to a crawl. The tension is just perfect now!

As for your enquiry about my gambling skills, I shall only state that I am a mystery and an enigma, one you cannot hope to solve. Bow before my beginners luck.

…….

Tone it down, you silver-tongued brat.

V.

……............................................................................................................

Ser Tethras,

I understand that you and your brother are knee deep in preparations for your Deep Roads expedition, but that does NOT excuse you from submitting your latest drafts on time.

If the latest draft of Chapter Eleven is not on my desk by tomorrow morning, I will come down there and drag it from your ink-stained fingers myself.

Sincerely,

Y/N Y/L/N

Editor at Kirkwall Publishing.

……

Why Silver, formal sign-off and everything. You are mad at me.

Would you forgive your favourite dwarf if I said I was assisting a young and devilishly handsome Fereldan refugee to turn his life around? And that, through working with this strapping lad, I am gathering a whole host of new ideas for later chapters, a perhaps… that second serial you’ve been asking for?

Your humble wordsmith,

V. Tethras

…….

Have the damn manuscript to me by next week.

You owe me V.

Silver

P.S. Stay out of trouble.

……

Dearest Silver,

Stay out of trouble? Why, I am an upstanding and law-abiding citizen of this fine city. I wouldn’t dream of creating trouble in our fair Kirkwall.

Hawke on the other hand…

You’ll break us out of prison, right?

……

(a letter attached to a manuscript, delivered within hours of close-of-business the following week.)

Chapter Eleven, as promised Silver.

And if my courier is as fast as she claims, with a good half-a-day to spare.

Now let me have a few solid nights of drinking before you bombard me with your inevitable critiques. After the week I’ve had. I deserve it.

Your favourite Dwarf,

V. Tethras

……

No rest for the wicked V.

…..

Slave driver.

……

You're the one sending (and likely paying) this young boy to run between my office and the Hanged Man to deliver scathing quips.

Are you so desperate to have the final word?

……

Well yes; but you keep responding, don't you?

…….....................................................................................................................

So I noticed you seem a bit fixated on my latest romance scene. There have to be at least twice as many notes on those pages than the rest of the manuscript combined (what do you have against the humble ellipses? Did it kill your father, insult your mother’s honour? Cheat you in cards?).

Something there must have really caught your attention.

……

If by caught my attention, you mean had me scoffing into my coffee, then yes -- there was plenty to work with.

I don’t know who you’re paying at the Blooming Rose, but no one has ever lasted that long, or had a woman orgasming that many times, without the aid of some very potent potions. Anyone who claims otherwise is better at lying than you are.

Try to be a bit more realistic when penning your explicit material.

Your readers aren’t that stupid.

By the way, I have no qualms with the ellipses. But they are not sugar V, don’t sprinkle them about like the scene is an Orlesian sweet.

……

Obviously you’ve never slept with a dwarf...

What we lack in size, we make up for in …  stamina.

Surely you’ve heard the saying... “Just the right height to give a human girl a good time.”

… V

P.S… sweet enough for you Silver?

…............................................................................................................................

                                             Kirkwall Publishing;                 in association with the Noble Literary Society of Kirkwall,

                                extend their cordial invitation to

                                          Ser Varric Tethras

                                                    to our

                                Annual Satinalia Award Ceremony

                               To be held at the De Launcet Estate                                              10th Harvestmere

                                    Dinner will be served at 6 bells                                  Award Ceremony to begin at 8 bells.

                           Please contact Kirkwall Publishing to RSVP.

( scribbled in the bottom corner of the invitation)

Yes you have to come! You won an award for Viper’s Nest

- Silver

……

My Dearest Silver,

I regret to inform you that I will be unable to attend this award shindig, as I will be busy doing literally anything else. As it if Satinalia and the entirety of Kirkwall will be pissed-up and cavorting around in masks, I’m sure no one will miss me.

Be a dear and collect my award for me. I want to send it to the Merchants Guild next time they try and involve Bartrand and me in their latest drivel. And when you finally grow tired of the snooty bastards up in Hightown, come join us at the Hanged Man. Hawke and I are having a little get together.

Yours, without regrets

Varric Tethras

……

Dear V.

Fine, but you better get your clever merchant hands on a bottle of the honey mead I like.

Try not to pass out before I get there.

- Silver

......

( a message, written on the back of a letter from the Merchants Guild and left on the beside of one Varric Tethras )

I stand correct. Dwarven stamina is a thing of beauty.

You still owe me 3 sovereigns.

Silver

……

Where the all of Thedas did you get that dress! That neckline should be illegal.

You can’t possibly have found it in a store, even I wouldn’t believe that kind of coincidence. Did you show a tailor my author portrait? You must have! Which means you had that outfit planned well before I rejected your precious awards night invite.

So you were planning to what, attend that ceremony with me dressed in a pin up version of my usual clothes? I don’t know whether to be flattered or insulted.

This is punishment for all those ellipses isn’t it?

Or were you just trying to catch my attention? I've been called a narcissist before, but never by intelligent company.

Your exceedingly bemused author,

V. Tethras

……

You didn’t seem to mind the dress last night, when I stopped by to deliver your award.

Or did it only cause offence once it landed on the floor of your room?

I didn’t think you noticed, you were very… distracted.

You’ll note my accurate and well placed use of an ellipses.

Your exceedingly well-dressed editor,

Silver

By the way; your pretty elven friend, the one who’s always sneaking into the Hightown gardens. Is she seeing anyone?

……

Hands of Silver. Hawke’s been making doe-eyes at Daisy since he saw her.

Furthermore, asking about my friends the day after you sleep with me! I feel so used.

Your tragically offended friend,

V. Tethras

……

As usual, you force me to repeat myself V.

You didn’t mind being used last night.

Your surprisingly flexible friend,

Silver

……

No fair, now you’ve got me thinking about humans and their long, bendy limbs.

You’d think all that leg of yours would get in the way.

Next time, remind me to hook them over my shoulders. I like the way it makes your back arch.

……

Tempting.

But you still need to send me the redraft of chapter eleven by next fortnight.

- Silver

#between the lines #varric tethras fanfic #fanfiction #da2 fanfiction #varric tethras #varric x reader #varric x oc #self indulgent nonsense #let me romance varric you cowards #story in letters #letters #dragon age #dragon age 2 #dragon age fanfiction #Silvarric

[dylinski]

TBWTBE (3/?)

Warnings: Angst, anxiety, anger, one use of “damn”, lying

Word Count: 2172

Author: @dylan-obrien-fanblog

A/N:  Hopefully this is a good read, but it’s pretty dull due to development. I’m trying to set the tone and lead up to the ‘interesting’ stuff. If you have anything you want me to add to the story or any ideas, feel free to tell me. I’m trying to be as creative as possible, but sometimes I struggle in that department. Please feel free to leave feedback, like and reblog. If you would like to be added to the taglist, let me know.

Chapter 3

Derek laid in bed staring at the ceiling, lost in his own thoughts. His mind flashed back to riding on the back of Kate’s motorcycle, him clinging to her waist. Her scent still lingered in his nostrils and he saddened as it’s strength faded. He couldn’t believe how much fun they had together, just riding around and then stopping at a diner. He didn’t think anyone had as big an appetite as him until her. They both ordered burgers with all the toppings, fries, and milkshakes. For the first time since Paige, he felt like he could be himself again.

Derek sighed and rolled out of bed as he decided it was time to be productive. He went to the desk in his room to start his homework when his little Motorola flip phone started buzzing in his pocket. He was surprised since he had alienated himself from all his friends. When he pulled out the phone, the ID read a number unknown to him.

“Hello?”

“Hey handsome. Miss me?”

Derek immediately recognized the raspy yet elegant voice on the other end of the line. His heart fluttered and his cheeks flushed. “Oh, hey.” Derek had completely forgotten he gave her his number hoping they could hang out again.

“What are you doing right now?”

“I was just about to start my hom...HOME CLEANING.” Derek palmed his forehead as he realized how stupid he sounded. He didn’t want Kate to know he was still in high school, but his attempt to cover his mistake failed miserably. He heard her chuckle devilishly through the phone.

“Sounds boring. You should do something more...fun.” Kate stretched out the word seductively. Whether she knew it or not, she did things to Derek that even Paige couldn’t do. She was a woman after all, not a teenager like all the other girls he knew. 

“Yeah. That sounds like fun.” Derek threw his head back at the terrible response, mouthing the word ‘fun’, judging his choice of the word. She chuckled the same as before making his throat close up in embarrassment.

“Meet me in an hour.” Derek hummed back in agreement and Kate immediately hung up. Derek slumped in his chair and groaned out loud at his lack of maturity in the conversation. 

Realizing he was actually going to see the woman again in an hour, he jumped up and started getting ready. He took an extra long shower, washing off as much of his teenager scent as he could. As he got out, he wrapped a towel around his waist and began to scour his room for something to wear. After smelling things he picked up off the floor and rummaging through his dresser, his mother became aware of the grunts and commotion coming from his room. Silence fell when she knocked on his door.

“What?” Derek shouted through the closed entrance, not realizing his tone. His mother opened the door and leaned against the frame, giggling at her frenzied and aggravated son. “Why is everything I own dirty or boyish?” He huffed as he threw clothes over his head.

“Here.” His mother entered the room and headed straight for the dresser. Among the chaos of unfolded clothes, she found a long sleeve green Henley and handed it to her appreciative child. He smiled as he thanked his mother and her ability to always have a solution, no matter the problem. This was something he always admired about her. Her ability to not allow emotions to control her choices and responses. 

The dark haired woman left the room, closing the door behind her and the boy rushed to get dressed. He added a pair of blue jeans to the shirt and old, worn converse. He went to his closet and pulled out an old bottle of his dads cologne. He was able to swipe it before his mother gave away most of his things after he died. He would occasionally pull out the bottle and embrace the scent, reminding him of when he would nuzzle his head into his father's solid chest. He worried he reeked of teenage boy so he doused himself in the perfume, scoffing at the intensity as he over sprayed.

He grabbed a sweat jacket from behind his door and hurled himself down the stairs. His mom, sitting on the couch in the living area, raised an eyebrow as he rushed past her. “Come here.” She simply stated as an impatient Derek slowly reversed his steps to meet her gaze again. “Where are you going?”

“Out.” He buzzed with urgency, already running late.

“Are you meeting a girl?” Talia questioned with a smile, happy her son was finally going out willingly.

“Uhm, yeah.” He palmed the back of his neck as redness rushed to his cheeks.

“Is she from school? Would I know her?” Derek’s eyes widened at the question, realizing the disapproval his mother would have of the older woman.

“No. I mean yes. She’s from school but you wouldn’t know her.” He looked to the door biting his lower lip, looking to escape.

“Go. Have fun.” His mother smiled and Derek was surprised that she believed the lie. He considered that his heart was already racing, it’s beat irregular, making it difficult to discern his words as truthful or not. He jetted towards the door as his mother shook her head at her spastic son.

Derek leapt from the porch over every step and let out a grunt as he landed. He ran as fast as he could to the road where Kate had texted him to meet her. She was already waiting, straddling the bike,  holding a helmet for him. She smiled the way that makes Derek blush, handing him the helmet as she said, “Let’s go have some fun.”

They rode for about half an hour before Kate pulled the bike off the main road and onto a dirt one. After another fifteen minutes they pulled up to an empty cabin that looked like it had been uninhabited for at least a year. Derek sheepishly followed Kate off the bike and towards the entrance of the small development. Kate smiled at him as she pulled out a set of keys, unlocking the door to the ominous wooden structure. 

When they entered, Kate flipped on a switch revealing a homey interior that clashed with the rundown exterior. She laughed at his expression and provided an explanation. “I’ve been staying here for the past couple of months. My family owns the cabin, but it hasn’t been used in years.” Derek raised his eyebrows insinuating his curiosity as to why it had been left untouched. Off his expression, Kate continued on her explanation, “Too many wolves.” She smiled hellishly and laughed as horror flooded the young boy’s face.

“Wolves?” He whimpered, terrified as to what she meant by this accusation.

“Aw, baby boy. Don’t look so frightened. There haven’t been wolves in these woods for years.” She cupped his cheek and brushed his forehead as she pouted her lips, almost mockingly. Derek strained his face, attempting to hide his uneasiness at her comment of wolves and then how she referred to him as a baby boy. She took her leather coat off and slung it on a chair at a large wooden table. “You want a beer?” She shouted as she headed to the kitchen unable to see Derek’s voiceless nod. She grabbed two beers despite his answer.

Derek headed to the table and sat down as Kate reentered the room with the beers and a deck of cards. She handed the nervous boy the beverage and asked him if he knew how to play. Slightly more relaxed Derek retorted, “Depends on what we’re playing.” His demeanor becoming more arrogant since he loved to play poker against his cousins. He always won and was pretty damn good too. “How about poker?” He offered.

Kate nodded and sat as she began to shuffle the deck, then dealing with the two cards each player is designated. They played for hours and Derek hadn’t even realized until he looked out the window and saw the sun had already set and night had long arrived. “I should go, it’s getting late.” 

“Alright. You need me to give you a ride?” Derek shook his head  fervently. He hated having to leave, but he actually preferred to run. This would also give him a chance to cover the scent of the woman with that of the woods, so his mom would be less suspicious of who he had been with. She smiled and waved nonchalantly from her seat as she sipped her third beer, expecting the kid to show himself out. Derek waved back surprised at her lack of dismay to his departure.

Just as he opened the door, he heard her shout from behind, “We’ll have to do this again soon. I’ll call you.” Derek smiled over his shoulder and left hurriedly to get home before Talia would ask too many unwanted questions.

He enjoyed the run and the fresh air. He hadn’t allowed himself to stretch his legs in a while, letting the wolf out. He opened himself to all his heightened senses, taking in all the smells and sounds mother nature had to offer. He had forgotten how much he missed this, letting the beast in him take over. Since his eyes changed, he held back the change in fear of himself and what he would do. What he once respected and held high, was now despised and a distasteful reminder of all his mistakes. 

He used his fear and anger to control the shift on full moons every month. The mantra his mother had taught him and others for generations lost its effectiveness after he changed the color of his eyes. His mother and others tried desperately to help him control his inner demon, but no one was able to until Peter.

------

“I thought...I thought I could control it.” Derek bellowed as he rested on his hands and knees on the ground.

“Did you bring it? Did you bring the triskelion?” Peter shouted over the younger ones grunts and growls.

“It’s...not...working.” Derek huffed each word through gritted teeth, using every bit of strength he had to hold back the shift.

“SAY IT!” Peter screamed at him. 

“Alpha. Beta. Omega.” Derek howled, echoing through the woods, losing his hold against the wolf. He gave Peter a glare the insinuated he was going to tear him apart. Peter cautiously approached his nephew and kneeled next to him. 

“What do you feel right now?” 

Derek glared at him with confusion and frustration. “I’m...angry.” Derek let out each word individually with a huff of his chest.

“Why are you angry?”

“Because I can’t control the shift anymore.”

“How come?” Derek shot at deadly look at him for his question, his eyes now glowed a heartless blue.

“You know why, Peter.”

“No, I don’t. Tell me why you can’t control the shift.”

“Because...I...KILLED HER.” The last words came out with a roar, finally verbalizing his struggle that he avoided to confront.

“Now use that anger. Use the power it gives you to hold it back. Give in to the pain and use it as an anchor. No, use it as an armor that makes you stronger. You have to give into the anger Derek.” His huffing fading into a less vigorous panting, he looked at his uncle with gray eyes.

“I think...it’s working.” Derek took in a deep breath, holding it in his lungs and then letting it out in a long puff.

------

Derek walked through the door of the sleepy house around 10PM, all his cousins and siblings asleep. During the day, there wasn’t a moment of peace outside of his room from all the children. His older sister Laura moved out last year to go to college, but everyone else still lived together in the house. The residents consisted of many relatives, the immediate ones being his mother, Talia and younger sister, Cora. His uncle Peter and aunt Kayla with her husband Paul and their hoard of children, six to be exact. Tyler was the oldest at 13 years, Harley who was 11 years, and then Jacob who was 8 years old. Jake and Jack were 5 years and twins, and lastly there was Hannah who just hit 10 months. Although the wolf gene ran in the family, not all of them had it while others were still too young to tell.

Derek tiptoed up the stairs and to his room, silently closing the door behind him. He stripped off his clothes like an outer shell and fell into bed. He laid there thinking about Kate and how she made him feel less guarded. Was it so crazy that he felt this way after knowing her for only 24 hours? She didn’t treat him like a child, which he wasn’t after everything he had been through. As his thoughts trailed on, he slowly drifted off into sleep.

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Taglist: @celestialvoid-fanfiction @adorkablyobsessed

#derek hale #peter hale #kate argent #the boy with the blue eyes #tbwtbe #teen wolf rewrite #teen wolf #talia hale

[ajfanfic]

TITLE: Where Can I Take You

AUTHOR: AJfanfic

PROMPT DAY #6: Found Family

SUMMARY: There is a kid sitting in Geralt’s seat at the bar. She’s swallowed up by an overlarge men’s coat and her dirty blonde hair, the color of snow in the sun. She’d be lovely if not for the black eye, delicate if not for the bruised knuckles. Geralt slides onto the seat next to her. Ciri is a baby butch runaway with no place to go. Geralt and Jaskier offer her a place.

WORD COUNT: 1,281

BOOKS/NETFLIX/2002 SHOW/VIDEO GAME: Netflix Show

TRIGGER WARNINGS: Offscreen violence

RATING: General

Read it below the cut, or on my AO3

I’ll give you my heart to make a place for it to happen, evidence of a love that transcends hunger. Is that too much to expect? That I would name the stars for you? That I would take you there?

- Richard Siken

There is a kid sitting in Geralt’s seat at the bar. She’s swallowed up by an overlarge men’s coat and her dirty blonde hair, the color of snow in the sun. She’d be lovely if not for the black eye, delicate if not for the bruised knuckles. Geralt slides onto the seat next to her.

“Beer for me, and the kid.”

Triss raises an eyebrow. “Really Ger? She’s like, eight.”

Geralt raises her eyebrow too and waits. Triss passes them two glasses. The kid is staring.

“Go on. I’ll drink it if you don’t want it.”

She grabs the glass. Geralt has never been one to start conversations, and it seems the kid isn’t either, so they sit for a while in silence. Her shoulders lower by degree, looking less like a bird ready to leap from a branch.

“Thank you.” Her voice is soft and sweet and reminds Geralt of a songbird.

“What do you want me to call you, kid?”

“Ciri.”

“You’re welcome, Ciri. You picked a good night to show up.”

“Why?”

“Not everyone’s as nice as me.” Geralt flashes a wolfish grin, then softens her expression. “And my girl’s singing tonight.”

“You have a girlfriend?” Her eyes are so damn wide.

“You didn’t wander in here by accident, did you?”

Ciri laughs, and Geralt feels like she’s about to do something stupid, like ask the kid what happened to her face, and if she has a place to stay.

Jaskier spares her by stepping on stage and neither of them dares break her spell by talking. The set flies by, and before she knows it, Jaskier is crossing the room to them, a cocktail in her hand. She drapes herself across Geralt’s broad back, grinning.

“Who’s this?” Jaskier asks.

“I’m Ciri.” She looks up, and her hair falls away from her face.

Jaskier gasps and comes around to perch on Geralt’s lap. She cups the girl’s face, running her fingers over the bruise. “What happened to your face, honey? Do you have a place to stay?”

Geralt snorts. Ciri starts and Jaskier pokes her in the side. “Hush, you.”

“I’m not laughing at you, I was going to ask her the same thing. Let me guess, ran away?”

Ciri tips her chin up defiantly. “I’m not going back.”

“Wasn’t asking you to.”

“She’s asking if you want to stay with us.”

Ciri looks between the two of them. “Are you really?”

“Yes. Do you?”

“Yes.”

Ciri sleeps on the couch in one of Geralt’s t-shirts. She didn’t say much on the walk back to Jaskier’s apartment, but she couldn’t keep her eyes off Geralt. Jaskier joked that she should perhaps feel jealous, and Ciri looked worried until Geralt laughed.

They’re curled together in bed and Jaskier is wondering whether she’d have made a terrible mother. Her own wasn’t exactly an example to follow and she’s only done marginally better but even in hindsight, she can’t see the path she should have taken clearly. Geralt pulls her tight against her chest and she’s confident she’s made at least one right decision. Knowing Ciri is in the other room feels like a second one.

"Do you regret choosing this life?" she asks.

"Didn't have much of a choice, between the person I am and the circumstances I was stuck with,” Geralt murmurs against her hair.

"I suppose I'm the same. If you could have chosen, then.” Jaskier rolls over to face her. “If you could be anything, what would you be?"

"I don't know. I haven't thought about it for a long time."

"Think about it?"

"I guess I'd do something outdoors, maybe work on a ranch." Geralt remembers her grandmother’s ranch. It was a good place, full of stories she wants to tell Jaskier one day. “What about you?”

"I'd be a singer."

"You are a singer."

"The kind of singer who doesn't need a day job. I have these dreams where I'm traveling the world, and I'm famous, but it's more like I’m respected." She grins. "I can't help but feel like you're supposed to be there too."

"I’d like to be. In my dreams, I wander and I protect people. Sometimes someone is with me, and I want to protect them most of all. I think it’s you." Geralt doesn't say that she'd dreamed of Jaskier long before she'd met her. She couldn’t have. Memory is imperfect.

Jaskier kisses her. “I hope I’m there with you,” she says against her lips. “It sounds lonely.”

Jaskier sleeps late and Geralt tucks the covers over her when she crawls out of bed. She finds Ciri in the bathroom the next morning, a pair of kitchen scissors in her hands. There’s a ring of gold hair on the tiles around her. She freezes when Geralt walks in, fear flashing across her face.

“I’ll clean it up, I’m sorry.”

Geralt holds out her hand, a gesture of peace. “It’s okay. Go sit at the table.”

She digs her clippers out of the cabinet and joins the kid. She holds them up. “These work better.”

Ciri nods. She tugs at the uneven bob she’s given herself.

“How short do you want it?” She hesitates, then sits up straight and says, “Short like a man’s.”

Geralt pulls a chair around behind her and sets to work. The clippers are warm and heavy in her hand, and Ciri seems lighter with every pass of the blade against her scalp. Jaskier emerges as they’re sweeping up. She kisses Geralt good morning and ruffles Ciri’s hair.

“I’m not sure I’ve woken up, two handsome ladies in my kitchen instead of one.” She leans against the counter and puts her hand to her forehead in a mock swoon. “I must be dreaming.”

Ciri laughs, and it’s the first thing she’s done that doesn’t have an edge of fear to it.

Jaskier gets home late. Ciri had gone to sleep not long before and Geralt had been waiting for her at the kitchen table. She isn’t sure when she’d started thinking of Jaskier’s apartment as home instead of her own. Jaskier is carrying her heels and there’s a limp to her step and a bruise forming on her cheek. Geralt waits until she’s closed the door and pulls her into a hug. They stand there for a long moment before Geralt takes her hand and leads her to the bathroom. The shower is the size of a shoebox, but they squeeze in together.

Under the hot water, Jaskier leans her head against her chest. “If you could change any one thing, what would it be?”

“I'd get you out of here. I'd take you to New York City and put you on the biggest stage there, show the whole world how brilliant you are.” Geralt’s hands map out the planes of Jaskier’s back, slow soothing strokes.

“You hate the city.”

Geralt shrugs. “What would you change?”

“I'd buy a ranch, way out in the country, and you could have a horse, and I'd sing for you, and we could just live.”

“You hate the country.”

“Maybe.” She looks up at her. “But I love you.”

Geralt presses their foreheads together. “I'm sorry I can't take you away from here, Jas.”

“I'm sorry too. But I’m glad I met you, and I’m glad we found Ciri.”

“Me too.”

“We can keep her, right?”

Geralt laughed, quietly but deep in her chest. “Yeah, we can keep her.”

#2020 geraskier week #Geraskier #Geralt #Jaskier #genderbend #Ciri #Lesbians #mine #fanfic