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kyuala · 2 years

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treasure as friends with benefits

hyung line + yedam only as this has mature themes! sfw maknae line version here. requested by anon.

hyunsuk

so shy, will literally never initiate anything. blushes easily and just wants to make sure you're comfortable at all times

you wonder if hyunsuk even wants this bc it's been like two weeks and he still hasn't hit you up. but by all means please do take matters into your own hands, he will NOT complain

probably gets anxious doing anything anywhere other than his bedroom the first few times you fuck, but you will reallyyyyyy see how fun and chill sex w hyunsuk can be once he lets go and relaxes

i feel like hyunsuk catching feelings could be a 50/50 chance, he does prefer to have sex with someone he's romantically involved with but it's not always a rule

if he does fall in love he will freak out tho lmao he won't know how to act around you

just wants to cuff you asap tbh

jihoon

LIKES TO FRONT 🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️

talks real big abt being a dom.... would probably let you dom him. thinks he's immune to catching feelings... will fall for you and then deny it like that's gonna make it go away. says he could probably handle like 3-4 fwbs at the same time.... cant stop thinking about you and turns people down bc of it

keeps buying you things he knows you like but nothing beats the stuff he buys you bc he's noticed they are missing in your house

on God wouldn't mind getting loud and letting certain people know ur business

secretly just wants you to do something - anything - in public that would show people you've got something going on with him and make them back off

compliment him and/or run your hands up and down his biceps and you will give him an ego boost that lasts like 3 whole weeks

yoshi

🚨‼️🚨 romantic feelings alert 🚨‼️🚨

i feel like yoshi would b very chill about the whole thing from the beginning. UNTIL he is not

feel like seeing someone else like that (and being seen by someone else like that) would represent a level of vulnerability to yoshi that would only make him look at you differently (all of you) and that would inevitably trigger some romantic feelings for him, no matter how light or intense

you will notice how much more easily he gets flustered around you, how he invites you to do stuff (out in public in the broad daylight!) with him, how he looks at you and kisses you all different and soft now

DEFINITELY falls into the cliche of asking you to stay for cuddles just a little while longer and feeling like he's on top of the world after waking up with you still in his arms.

probably doesn't really care what happens the first few times as long as you're having fun, but will not be opposed to you introducing some kinks or d/s elements (ahem, he lives to serve. wbk)

junkyu:

bro he would be in love w you before y'all even start oh my God. thoughts of you and what you do to him cloud his mind 24/7 like literally junkyu head empty thoughts y/n

this arrangement probably comes about during some late night talk in his studio when he just lets it slip before he can stop himself. when you agree he just stares at you like 😦 for like 25 minutes

not the best at initiating stuff (if you even count him staring at you from the corner of his eye and hoping you get the message as "initiating stuff")

gets these random bursts of confidence and he will be more active and make you feel good and ur like "boy where the FUCK has this been this whole time" and he's just like :3

not to get mushy all of a sudden but junkyu is literally moved by improvement and growth in his life so if you think things are good now.......... bro be prepared bc he learns FAST what makes you go insane and he will do it every. single. time.

mashiho

thinks he's good at this and is genuinely good at this (sorry to jihoon but this mans built different)

a full adaptable switch, he will figure out what you like and he will suddenly be it, simple as that (and he's good at it, too)

absolutely lives for late night rendezvous (he likes the vibe) but also doesn't really care about the time if he wants to smash he'll smash lol he just won't do it where he works and probably not even in the dorms either

i don't think he'd be afraid to hit u up but i also don't think he would do it that often. does it mostly when he needs to blow off some steam or when he's bored lmao

THE most responsible fwb, he will constantly ask you to keep him updated about how you're feeling and will keep communication clear with you too. will end things if you catch feelings and he doesn't bc he just cares about you and your well-being :(

jaehyuk

probably suggests it himself but will also be v pleasantly surprised if you do it first. doesn't even have to be someone he trusts that much, hell y'all ain't even gotta be friends lmao

seems like he'd try to be picky about when and where but truth is he can't resist you and is easily convinced lol he'd end up fucking you after some thigh touching and dirty whispering on your part

i don't think he would be that ashamed to hit you up frequently either. so be prepared for some thirst traps and some dirty texting 🤞🏼

wants EVERYBODYYYY to know ur business, you'd have to be constantly reminding him that being secretive is part of the deal lmao

i honestly do not think he'd catch feelings easily at all, but he'd be the absolute sweetest and be super considerate to you if you did. if he did catch feelings too he'd just want y'all to get into a relationship as soon as possible, like right then and there

asahi

i dont think he would lmaoooooo

but if by some miracle he did get a fwb, it would have to be someone he trusts a LOT. like top 10 most trusted people in his life type of deal.

probably cares more about the "friend" part than the "benefits" part lol prefers to just hang out and talk first rather than showing up and tearing each others clothes off or something

on the rare occasions y'all do actually do something i feel like he'd be all for it, almost never denying you. he doesn't want anything to feel too intense or stiff so sex with him will be very laid-back, chill, fun... it's literally just two best friends hanging out but he also happens to be making you cum bc he's naturally talented at it

wildcard. i don't think he would catch feelings but also with asahi there's always the off chance of something happening. if he does fall in love i feel like he would try to tell you as soon and as naturally as possible, just very calmly mentioning it the next time you two hang out

yedam

cocky 🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️

loves it when you hit him up and gets such an ego boost from it, will definitely mock you for needing him so much and ask you if you're that desperate for him (say yes i promise you won't regret it)

would probably get a rush out of fucking in places y'all shouldn't (his studio, the practice room, the dorms when someone else is home, you know the drill) and honestly would want to do it a lot too lol

ON THE TOPIC OF STUDIO SEX ....... he will definitely be a sucker for late night sex in the studio, with some mood lighting and stuff. would probably write a fun summer song that is actually about sex and say you're his muse or some cheesy shit like that lol

if he does catch feelings first he will be a mix of yoshi and hyunsuk. freaks out a lil bit first but then does his best to (subtly) show you how he'd treat you if you give him a chance at a serious relationship

main masterlist | treasure masterlist

#treasure scenarios #treasure smut #treasure headcanons #treasure imagines #treasure x reader #treasure fanfic #treasure blurbs #treasure drabbles #hyunsuk #jihoon #yoshi #junkyu #mashiho #jaehyuk #asahi #yedam #mari.doc

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greatwyrmgold · 3 months

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I'm dangerously close to figuring out an Oshi no Ko/Parahumans crossover fic idea.

In this AU, Ai Hoshino is a young Dauntless-class parahuman—someone with powers that could theoretically make her a Triumvirate-tier heavy hitter one day, if she lives long enough. But unlike Dauntless, her powers also have the potential to turn into a Big Problem. (My first thought is a Master or drone-Tinker power that runs the risk of being exponential-growth self-replication if Ai goes rogue. My second thought is some kind of Master/Trump thing.)

So Ai is pressured into being a superhero—and not just any superhero, but an ideal superhero, someone so perfect that nobody could imagine her turning into a villain. Not just someone who fights Endbringers and supervillains to protect people, but a perfectly virtuous girl, a shining beacon to all (para)humanity.

Step 3: ???

Anyways, now Ai is pregnant. As per OnK's premise, the twins are reincarnations of two of Ai's fans, and retain their memories. Sarina's backstory doesn't really need to change; she's a sick/disabled little girl who wishes she could be a superhero. Having Dr. Goro be someone Ai rescued (and then became a big fan of) seems like a sensible way to adapt the original story to the AU.

Figuring out step 3 is going to be a lot easier once we learn more about Ai's relationship with the twins' dad, which we doubtless will in the next few chapters. So I'll channel this muse/gremlin into thinking about trigger events.

Oshi no Ko, like many manga/anime series, takes place in Japan. In Earth Bet, Japan isn't doing very well. Kyushu was drowned and crushed by hydrokinetically-generated waves, which also wrecked the rest of coastal Japan, also known as Japan. So idea 1: Stranded by floodwaters.

Without going into a tangent, Ai's mother Ayumi was jealous of and abusive to her daughter. (She insists that she wasn't abusive, and she probably believes that, but the things she admits to doing sound pretty abusive.) Whether out of guilt for how she treated Ai or to stop Ai's beauty from distracting her boyfriend*, Ayumi abandoned Ai in an orphanage.

All of that is core to canon!Ai's trauma, her desperation to love and be loved, her inability to recognize either. Obviously the entertainment industry's treatment of her didn't help, but problems start at the root. So idea 2: Abandonment by parental figures.

*Oh yeah, Ayumi's boyfriend was infatuated with Ai. I'm a bit fuzzy on the timeline here, but Ai had to be pretty f*ing young at that point. Motivations and methods aside, getting Ai away from him was probably good.

So Ai, Ayumi, and Ayumi's nameless boyfriend end up stranded by Leviathan's floodwaters. At some point, they have a way to escape, and Ai is lead to believe all three of them will escape, but at the last minute the adults betray her.

Maybe they all build a raft and gather supplies in the aftermath, the adults say they'll leave in the morning once they've rested, and then they abandon her in the night. Maybe during the fight a flying cape notices them, and Ayumi sends Ai indoors to grab something before the cape gets close enough to see that there's a child with them, to make sure both she and her boyfriend get rescued. Something along those lines.

Let's start working backwards. Ai needs to be a dangerously powerful cape, after all. The Master element is pretty self-evident; we don't have official guidelines for Master triggers, but Ai's hangups around love and family, would make it easy to justify having the Master minions reproduce. But a mere Nilbog clone isn't quite what we're looking for, now is it? Ai needs a Trump aspect, too.

The Trump document has guidelines on Trump trigger events. Categories 6 and 9 seem obviously relevant—6 because Leviathan turned the whole area into a new sea, 9 because the physical crisis makes it impossible to ignore filial problems which Ai had previously ignored quite well. So I guess that's a Trump power with an absolute swarm of minions?

Category 3 (copy/borrow/steal powers) would be easy to make into a Dauntless-class power. Like, she produces fairies which parahuman abilities can imprint on, letting it do something smaller but similar. (Or letting Ai do that thing. Or something.) And then Ai can merge/breed fairies to either make stronger versions of the same power or to mix them or something. There are a bunch of options.

However, category 3 guidelines require some kind of ongoing relationship with powers or a parahuman. (The examples given are kidnapping and manipulation by an emotion-controlling Master and...basically Syndrome if Mr. Incredible acted like he'd accept Buddy as a sidekick instead of the opposite.) That's a bit tricky to work into the trigger.

Might be easier if Ai's mom was a D-tier cape, though. Maybe a low-level Mover who works as a discreet courier. Someone with the power to save Ai, who should want to save her, who promises to save her after getting the boyfriend to safety. Who abandons her.

(Someone whose powers have as much influence on Ai's as Carol's do on Amy's.)

Alright, that's enough worrying about it for now. Maybe this idea will get kicked off the back burner next OnK chapter.

#oshi no ko #parahumans #crossover

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bbcphile · 21 days

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Writing Patterns

List the first sentence of your last 10 AO3 works.

(I’ve also seen the “and the last sentence” variant, so I went ahead and did that.)

Thanks for the tag, @eirenical, @kingsandbastardz, and @momosandlemonsoda! (Sorry it took me so long to do this!)

Everything listed here is Horatio Hornblower fic, and includes canon era and my modern AU (canon era is all Horatio Hornblower/Archie Kennedy, and modern AU is Horatio Hornblower/Archie Kennedy/William Bush).

Also, if you go read any of them, mind the tags/trigger warnings on AO3! They're all about PTSD/trauma recovery in one way or other, which means they have a bunch of triggers. If you want more details before reading any of them, feel free to ask me!

And now, the examples:

Nunc Atque Semper

Opening line: Maria checked the clock on the bookshelf again.

Closing lines: Horatio’s eyes grew distant, and a faint, bitter hint of a smile twisted the corner of his lips. He sighed, his eyes fluttering closed. “Welcome to purgatory.

2. Taking Hands Against a Sea of Troubles

Opening lines: Archie halted in mid-stride in the centre of the crowded street and snapped his head around to stare at Horatio. “What do you mean, you’ve never been to Drury Lane?”

Closing line: But, as long as Archie was alive and breathing by his side, nothing else mattered.

3. Holding Fast

Opening Line: “Bush! What’s our status?”

Closing line: He let his eyes fall shut.

4. The Vital Importance of Doing Research

Opening Lines: Admiralty Office, February 4, 1809

Pursuant to an Act of Parliament, passed in the Twenty-fifth Year of His late Majesty’s Reign, this is to give Notice to those whom it may concern, that Information has been received at this Office, that the Galliot Maria, of Gibraltar, whereof George Heseltine was Master, (Owners’ Name not known), laden with Oranges, from Seville, and bound to London, was stranded in the Night of the--

Will blinked and rubbed his bleary eyes as he swallowed back a yawn. He’d be asleep in five minutes if he didn’t take a break.

Closing line: Thank goodness he’d grown up since then.

5. Ships and Swans

Opening line: “Are you sure about this, Horatio?”

Closing line: “Lead on. I’m right behind you.”

6. The Best Is Yet to Come

Opening Line: “I’m home! Happy anniversary, love!”

Closing line: Then again, he’d never been known for his imagination.

7. Relative Bearing

Opening line: Will’s phone pinged quietly in the pocket of his jeans.

Closing line: He’d just have to wait.

8. Harboured and Encompassed

Opening lines: “And when those patrons bring back their materials, make sure nothing’s damaged, mark the item as returned in the system, and give them back their ID. Have you got that?”

Closing line: But it was a start.

9. Turning Over the Sands of Time

Opening line: “Eight,” Archie murmured as the cane in Matthews’ hand struck its target again.

Closing line: They would survive, one day at a time, until the sand ran out.

10. Much Ado about Shakespeare: Love’s Labours Won

Opening line: Archie Kennedy closed his eyes, willing this time to be different.

Closing line: Horatio threw a stocking at him.

Bonus:

Opening line of MLC WIP: Li Lianhua crashed to his hands and knees on the ground as the last trickle of his borrowed qi abandoned him, the densely-packed sand doing nothing to cushion the blow.

Patterns: For opening lines, I definitely have a history of starting with dialogue that hints at the central issue the fic addresses, and I usually start either right when something has changed or with a character who has just reached the limit of what they can handle in a bad situation. For closing lines, I generally tend to use short sentences that are either punchlines if it’s a more comedic fic, reflections on time, change, or growth if it’s more serious (and usually in ways that are commenting on some central aspect of the POV’s character), and almost all of them are in some way about healing and finding comfort/learning to move on after terrible things, or in the more tragic ones, about the inability to move on.

Now the real question is, will I use this newfound knowledge to try to never use these patterns again to avoid being so predictable? Who knows! (Actually, when I realized I usually started with dialogue in 2018, I decided to stop starting with dialogue, soooooo, yeah. Realistically, expect something completely different in future fics, lol.)

Tagging @howdaretrashships, @nutcasewithaknife, @wuxia-vanlifer, @rose-tinted-vision, @xthelastknownsurvivorx, and @enbysaurus-rex (As always, no obligation to do it, and if you see it and want to do it, consider yourself tagged!)

#writing meme #first 10 lines #writing patterns

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bonesandthebees · 1 year

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And now for my favourite part of the entire chapter. The two minutes in which Wilbur and Phil live in a world where Wilbur is Phil's biological son and has wings before Phil trigger himself an internal crisis. I love how we have done from little bird to what if Wilbur had wings? It’s such a fun metaphor/visual. It also says a lot, and I mean a LOT about how Phil sees Wilbur.

To Phil, Wilbur is a fledgling, a little bird. He has no control over his wings aka emotions aka facial and bodily reactions. Small detail, but when Phil says he thinks Wilbur would have expressive wings, he immediately follows it by saying that it’s not an insult. He will never let Wilbur think he’s being insulted again. He will shut it down before the thought even crosses his mind.

The implication that Wilbur will get better at controlling his emotions over time. It’s something I’m pretty sure Phil has told him before. But it meaning behind it is differnt. Before, it was an acknowledgement of the potential, a bit of a challenge and maybe a general “it will happen, but I won’t be there to see it, not from close by anyway”. Maybe it was already an I can make it happen. But it’s different from what it is now.

Now, it’s still an acknowledgement of that potential. But it feels like a promise. It feels like they have time. It is no longer a challenge for Wilbur to reach his potential. He has time to find himself, he has time to learn and grow and Phil intends to be there to watch it happen.

And then we get [”Because I’d teach you how.”]. Bee, how am I supposed to be normal after this? That’s he most open display of affection we’ve ever seen in Phil. There’s so much care store in that on sentence. That’s a promise. That’s an actual, if you had wings I would teach you how to use them. This feels like a good time to point out the irony in Wilbur moving to the personal wing while being properly taken under Phil’s wing. Especially with all this wing talk.

(4/5)

-🌲

that bit was soooo fun for me to write. it's such a sweet moment between phil and wilbur. it says so much about phil's thoughts and feelings without outright stating them. he views wilbur as a fledgeling with expressive wings that he doesn't know how to control. he reassures him it's not an insult, because he knows wilbur has been insulted enough times in his life.

and like you said, saying that wilbur will learn to control his emotions with time has changed in its implication. it's not longer a distanced thing with phil trying to push wilbur towards his potential. it's something much closer. he wants to help wilbur reach that potential. he wants to teach him how to control his emotions and become the best version of himself he can be. phil wants to be there to see that growth.

i'm so glad you're not normal after that line because neither am I. it's SUCH an open display of affection from phil in a way we've never seen before. he gets away from his own self control for just a moment. he is showing exactly how much he actually cares about wilbur because he wants to take him under his wing and teach him everything he needs to learn to grow and thrive. just... aaaaa sand duo

also, ngl, the personal wing tied with phil having wings and talking about wings- that wasn't intentional lmao. i genuinely did not know how else to refer to the personal 'section' of the palace besides calling it a wing because that's just the term to describe it. that's just a happy coincidence but it works really well for the convo!

#ask #spruce anon #the stars and their children

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lifeandapples · 29 days

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Mental Health Journal with Prompts: Cultivating Mindfulness and Self-Understanding

In the bustling rhythm of modern life, mental health often takes a backseat to the myriad external demands placed upon us. However, the practice of journaling can serve as a vital sanctuary for reflection, growth, and healing. A mental health journal with prompts, equipped with carefully chosen prompts, offers a structured path toward self-awareness and emotional well-being. This article introduces the concept of a mental health journal, outlines its benefits, and provides prompts to kickstart your journey of self-discovery and mindfulness.

Understanding Mental Health Journaling

Mental health journaling is a practice that encourages the regular recording of thoughts, feelings, and experiences related to one's emotional and psychological well-being. Unlike traditional diaries, which may focus on daily events or memories, mental health journals are introspective tools designed to foster a deeper understanding of one's inner world.

Benefits of Mental Health Journaling

Enhanced Self-Awareness: Journaling compels us to pause and reflect on our internal states, promoting a greater understanding of our thoughts, emotions, and behaviors.

Stress Reduction: Writing about challenges and feelings can help diffuse stress and provide a sense of relief.

Emotional Clarity: Journaling can help untangle complex emotions, aiding in emotional regulation and decision-making.

Problem-Solving: By putting problems into words, we can approach them from new angles and uncover potential solutions.

Starting Your Mental Health Journal

Embarking on the journey of mental health journaling begins with choosing a medium that feels comfortable and inviting—be it a classic notebook, a digital app, or something in between. What matters most is your commitment to the process and the consistency of your practice. Below are prompts designed to guide you through various aspects of mental health and well-being.

Prompts for Reflection

Current Mood Snapshot: "Describe your current mood in as much detail as possible. What do you think influenced your feelings today?"

Gratitude List: "List three things you are grateful for today and explain why they matter to you."

Stress and Coping: "Identify a recent stressful experience and how you responded to it. Reflect on the effectiveness of your coping strategies and how you might handle similar situations in the future."

Self-Compassion Exercise: "Write a letter to yourself from the perspective of a kind and understanding friend. What would they say about your recent struggles?"

Dreams and Goals: "What are your aspirations for the next year? Describe steps you can take to move closer to these goals."

Personal Growth: "Reflect on a recent mistake or failure. What did you learn from this experience, and how can it contribute to your growth?"

Mindfulness Practice: "Spend a few minutes in a quiet space, focusing on your breath or surroundings. Write about the sensations, thoughts, and feelings you observed during this time."

Emotional Triggers: "Identify situations or individuals that trigger strong emotional reactions in you. Explore the underlying reasons for these responses."

Self-Care Strategies: "List your favorite self-care activities. How do these actions support your mental health, and how can you incorporate them more regularly into your life?"

Looking Ahead: "Imagine yourself a year from now. What changes or achievements would you like to see in your life? How do you feel about these future possibilities?"

Concluding Thoughts

The practice of mental health journaling is a journey, not a destination. It's about becoming a compassionate observer of your own life, recognizing patterns, celebrating growth, and navigating challenges with greater awareness and resilience. By engaging with the prompts provided, you embark on a process of self-exploration that can illuminate the path to a more mindful and emotionally fulfilling life.

For More Info:-

menu planner notebook

journal for depression and anxiety

#mental health journal with prompts

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cosmicxhealingart · 2 years

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Self-Development : How to Improve Yourself

The act of enhancing or improving yourself is referred to as self-development. With the help of self-development tips, you can defeat negative thoughts and transform them into beliefs that inspire and empower you. Because the world is so competitive, learning how to improve yourself acts like an asset. You not only gain confidence, but you also become less afraid of changes in your surroundings. So, do you want to know how to improve yourself? This blog will teach you 5 essential self-growth tips and the benefits they will have on you.

Meditation

A very common and easy way to release the tension from your life is to meditate. The meditation will help in soothing the nervous system of your body, allowing you to find inner peace. This inner peace acts on the brain and helps in lowering the blood flow throughout the body, further releasing the tension out and building higher self-confidence. The act of meditation is strong and can help in increasing your concentration and focusing power.

If you find it difficult to meditate for 1 hour straight, try a shorter time for a while. Almost anyone can meditate for 1 to 5 minutes without experiencing intrusive thoughts. Then, as the ocean of the mind calms down, you can lengthen your meditation session until you can achieve the desired length. Whenever meditating, try to stay calm, relax your body, and focus on positive affirmations.

Take Care of Yourself Through Healthy Food & Exercise

The journey to self-growth doesn’t stop at meditation. Through healthy food and exercise, you will reduce stress and depression, increase mental alertness, and improve self-esteem. When you exercise, it triggers the chemical called endorphins which helps in making you feel happy and relaxed and when you eat healthy food every day, it will help in preventing long-term diseases. Just make sure you exercise every day even if it is for 30 minutes. You can include brisk walking, running, cardio exercises, and more. With exercise try to eat healthy food that includes leafy vegetables and fruits.

Breathwork /Breathing exercises

Breathwork is a new age phenomenon for different types of breathing practices in which conscious control of breathing helps you to calm any kind of stress, tension, and depression in a claimed therapeutic effect. As a beginner, you can start by taking long and deep exhalations before taking in a deep breath. Try to squeeze out as much air as possible from your lungs before relaxing. Then slowly breathe out longer than you breathe in. Continue this for about 5 minutes.

Focus on Your Thoughts and Actions:

Your thoughts are very powerful, and this is the reason why you should align them with your actions to achieve what you want in life. You can start by making small changes in the way you process your thoughts. Challenge your beliefs and assumptions and develop an awareness of your instant thoughts and actions. Don’t take immediate action, take a moment, and realize what is happening. To effectively align your thoughts with your action, replace your beliefs of nothingness with a more grounded approach, leaving room for improvement and new experiences.

Stop Judging Others/Self:

You may find yourself in a situation where you must make decisions for or against. However, rather than making judgments about someone, you can talk about other things or something you like in them which makes them so different. This is applicable to you as well if you constantly find yourself talking negatively about your career, health, or body. Stop judging others and yourself and find a way to see positive things in others. This way you will improve yourself and feel good as well.

Are you looking for self-growth tips from a guided expert? Book a session with Cosmicx Healing Art and go through a spiritual healing journey. You will get various services like workshops, individual sessions, theta healing, family-relationship constellation, meditation, and more to improve yourself. For more details, call us now!

Original source Cosmicx Healing Art

#CosmicxHealingArt #self improvement

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nextlevelguydotcom · 2 years

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Episode #145 Nick Koumalatsos on how to utilize the special ops mindset in your everyday life

Today’s guest is Nick Koumalatsos!

There is no better time for men to be: focused, vigilant, and healthy than right now. Nick Koumalatsos is a Husband, Father, Author, Marine Raider, Recon Marine, founder of The Agoge, and serial business builder with his partner Alison Capra.

Nick’s goal is to inspire, educate and teach men the tools and steps to move forward in fitness, business, and relationships; and challenge you to become the best version of yourself! On his podcast, you will find No BS just straightforward talk from patriots, freedom fighters, and industry professionals from all walks of life.

In this interview, we discuss:

How to utilize the special ops mindset in your everyday life.

How you can build a warrior mindset every day.

How to achieve goals like a Spec Operative

And so much more!

youtube

Here are some key points that I would advise you to concentrate on:

Your starting point is never your finishing points. Nick was behaving badly when he was younger but changed his life around and is now successful. Just because you are at a low point, it doesn't need to be your final stop on your journey in life, jsut ap it stop.

Life has become soft, or at least we have allowed ourselves to become soft, we need to find challenge and purpose in our life again.

Look at challenges as an opportunity to learn, to grow and develop yourself. Reframe the threat as an opportunity and it will help you become more mentally confident and resilient.

To get a Warrior mindset, you need to do hard things in your life. You need to challenge yourself, you need to fail and learn from the mistakes, you need to go through trials and tribulations and weather the storm.

Every minute you have a choice to step up or shrink back, to go for it or hide from it. You can change your life right now, you just need to decide and go for it.

Adopt Nicks's 'Always Forward' into our life, just learn from mistakes, get back up after being knocked down and you will get there.

When making new habits in your life, you need to start small and grow. Use the small wins to improve yourself and your confidence and let the success snowball into an avalanche of success in your life.

You need to break large goals down into smaller, manageable targets, that you can track and measure, to better increase your chance of success.

Focus on your daily goals - what do you need to do each day to achieve your overall goals? Take each day one day at a time, and build a routine so you can focus on your goals, and work towards them each day.

No plan survives first contact, you need to learn to pivot and adapt towards success.

Don't let your 'MayDay Trigger' stop you, shit will hit the fan and things will go wrong, but learn from it and restart. Don't let a situation derailing spiral into a whirlwind of despair and affect more days. Stop, reset and restart.

The selection process never ends - never rest on your laurels, the mission of life never ends.

Quitting at something puts a limit on your life - what would you rather, work hard or have regrets?

Don't complain about it ... work for it and achieve it!

You need to ask yourself: What do you value in life? What do you want to achieve? What are your goals? What are your priorities in life? Make sure your daily life matches the goals and your priorities in your life. Then fix your routine to help you work towards your goals and priorities.

Train to be at your best, in tough situations you will fall back to the highest level of your training, and not rise to the situation. Challenge yourself daily so that you will be mentally and physically ready, experienced in tough situations and ready to soar and not sink.

You have to enjoy the journey in life, there is no final destination.

Growth happens outside your comfort zone.

Nick is always looking to challenge himself every year, by doing something new, by trying new things and learning and growing. What can you do every year, every month and day to grow, learn, and push yourself out of your comfort zone to achieve your goals.

Everyone is figuring it out as they go, stop being so hard on yourself.

Find coaches, gyms, teachers etc that will help you cut the learning curve, remove a lot of the mistakes and help you on the way. Stop trying to do it all yourself, hack the system and source the people and knowledge you need to level up your success.

Look stupid and ask questions! Don't be afraid to ask for help, for guidance and support ... don't let your masculinity or fear of looking stupid stop you on your journey! Don't let your pride and ego stop you progressing on your journey in life.

Find your why in life. Don't sacrifice your journey for your family, use your family as a motivation to become a better man and use them to inspire you to become a better man every day! Be the role model that you wanted in your life, and be that for your kids and other men in your life, be the role model that you wanted for others. Be the teacher, provider, protector etc that you wanted, and inspire the next generation of men. Be the best version of ourselves for them.

Check out this episode!

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here4theheartbreak · 3 years

Text

Morning Tangles (2Min)

AO3 Link Here!

Relationships: Minho x Taemin Genre: smut Rating: Explicit Word Count: ~3.7k

Tags: smut, PWP, dirty talk, overstimulation, bondage, light D/s, Bottom Dominant, Teasing, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Ruined Orgasms, Multiple Orgasms, Coming Untouched, Prostate Massage/Milking, Begging, Sex Toys, Established Relationship, idolverse, top Minho, bottom Taemin

Summary: Taemin loves taking Minho to new heights and pushing new limits. Will this finally be one step too far?

A/N: Fourth Kinktober fic, day 6: overstimulation and bondage; also! my first true SHINee fic - please love it ^_^

Minho knew he was in trouble the first time Taemin walked into his life. Gangly and awkward, they were all weird looking teenagers, despite what the media would say. But they all grew up, and Taemin especially… That man grew up well. And with that growth, Minho’s crush progressed from schoolyard pigtail pulling to something far more intense. As adults, they fell into this phase of their relationship almost as natural as breathing. They’d always been close. So even closer seemed to make sense.

And even closer, and more intense – because everything Taemin did, he did with an intensity that very few could appreciate. Taemin could get him to do damn near anything too; one crook of the finger he was very firmly wound around, and Minho would melt for his beautiful lover. Which, in hindsight, is exactly how Minho ended up in this situation.

The silky smooth strips of fabric were just sturdy enough to keep Minho’s legs entirely still, one tied to each corner of the footboard. His arms were stretched up, lying on the pillow, and bound with soft leather cuffs, one pair on each hand – the other loop hooked around the headboard. He had some wiggle room, about two inches of movement on either side, but it was most certainly not enough. Taemin had commanded him to strip naked, and braced his hips up with a pillow, a worrying sign given his lover’s propensity for adventurous sex.

“I wanted to blindfold you,” Taemin said as he finished securing the cuffs.

“I would have been very upset,” Minho whispered, lifting his head up to try and graze Taemin’s hand with his lips. “I prefer seeing you.”

Taemin smiled brightly, his cheeks pushing up in a way that made him look ever so innocent. “Flirting will get you nowhere,” he purred, stroking one finger down Minho’s cheek.

“You’re still clothed,” Minho complained as Taemin walked away, heading over to the dresser.

“I don’t need to be naked yet. Don’t worry – I’ll get there.”

“What are you going to do?” Minho asked. Taemin came back around, holding a bottle of lube. He smiled and crawled on the bed between Minho’s thighs, straddling one leg. Minho could already feel himself hardening further; Taemin had such a response from him so easily, it would have been irritating if he didn’t find it so sexy.

“I’m going to make you come,” Taemin said casually, as if he was discussing the weather. He plunked the lube bottle down next to Minho’s hip and slid his smooth palms up his thighs. “I love your muscles,” he admitted. “Especially when they get all tense right before you come.”

“Well… Keep touching me, and you’ll get to see it,” Minho teased, smirking. He met Taemin’s gaze, a dangerous glint in his eyes.

Minho loved it. Taemin was always more sexually adventurous than he would be on his own, and he was always learning new tricks to make their bedroom life so fun. Taemin had taught Minho things about his body that he’d never have imagined, and shown him ways to enjoy sex and pleasure that were entirely new. Sometimes, Minho felt like Taemin knew his body better than he did; and he was always eager to see what new heights he’d be taken to. Taemin opened the lube, drizzling some over his fingers. He rubbed gently on Minho’s hole, meeting his gaze. “Relax.”

Minho nodded, trying to will his body to relax. Anal play was surprisingly new for him, even after all these years, but so far, he’d loved everything they’d tried. Maybe this was just something new.

Taemin slid one finger in, gently massaging his tight rim to get it to loosen. Minho let his eyes drift shut, focusing on the soothing rub of Taemin’s other hand over his balls and thigh, and the gentle, teasing tug each time he crooked his finger.

It wasn’t too long before he slipped a second in, and Minho sighed contentedly. A bit more of a stretch, but they had done this before; Taemin’s fingers were long and slender and moved ever so perfectly inside him. He brushed against his prostate and he jumped, laughing breathlessly.

Taemin remained silent, sucking his bottom lip as he worked his fingers inside Minho. He began to stroked and prod his prostate repeatedly, ignoring his gasps and whimpers for the most part – save for a smirk that could only be described as devilish when their gazes met.

Minho flexed against the cuffs on his wrists, shifting to try and escape the pressure building deep in his groin.

“Taemin—” He strained.

“Something wrong?”

“No—Just… I need more,” Minho asked softly.

“I’ll give you everything you need,” Taemin said. He set his other hand on Minho’s stomach shifting his fingers to scrape the sensitive skin there. He continued to rub his fingers against his prostate, the pressure building more and more.

Minho squirmed and jumped, every nerve in his body seeming to awaken the longer he laid there. He wanted to crawl out of his skin, the arousal becoming overstimulating within minutes. But still Taemin continued, steady and rhythmic nudges, pushing ever so gently, one hand firm and warm on his stomach to keep him from jerking his hips too far way and forcing him out.

Minho’s cock was painfully hard, twitching and jerking on his belly with the stimulation. He could feel precome dribbling out of his tip, streaking when he twitched and cooling on his skin.

“Please—“ He finally panted.

“Please what?” Taemin teased, his grin wide.

“Touch me. I’m so close, I feel on fire.”

“I am touching you.” Taemin prodded his spot to emphasize. Minho’s toes curled, jerking against the binding holding his legs to the bed. His cock throbbed, drizzling more precome onto his heaving stomach.

“You know what I mean!” He cried, struggling against the cuffs. “Touch my cock. Please, just a little,” he begged.

“I don’t need to.” Taemin blew a burst of cool air over his tip and shifted, working his fingers into Minho’s ass a little quicker.

“If you’d stop fighting it, you’d already be coming,” Taemin said. “Close your eyes. Focus on the feelings and let it happen.”

Minho whined. He watched Taemin a moment more, hating how gorgeous he was… And how Minho knew he’d do anything for him.

He let his eyes slip shut, relaxing against the bed.

“That’s it,” Taemin coaxed. “Keep breathing, slow and steady, feel it all.”

Minho drew in a breath through his nose, out through his mouth. He gasped when his cock jerked, sensitivity seeming to increase without his sight to rely on.

“Keep breathing,” Taemin said firmly.

Minho grimaced, struggling to obey. His hips jerked of their own volition, pleasure rolling over his nerves like waves of water hitting him. His cock ached from base to tip, balls drawn impossibly tight, ready to release. He just couldn’t get there. Each nudge of Taemin’s long, slender fingers against his prostate felt his balls tighten, like it was a crank pulling them more and more. He needed to come or he was going to explode.

God, exploding… Minho’s mind wandered. What he wouldn’t give to sink into Taemin’s warm mouth and explode. The sight of his lips and chin covered in sticky come, the glimmer in his eyes as he sucked his tip, knowing how crazy it drove him—

Minho screamed. He’d never screamed during sex before. His cock throbbed, jumping visibly on his stomach before come began to pour out of it, puddling on his belly as his body shuddered and jerked.

“Good boy,” Taemin cooed, still stroking his prostate. The strokes now seemed to trigger an additional dribble of come, another jolt of orgasmic pleasure lighting up every nerve in his body.

Minho opened his eyes, struggling to swallow the lump in his throat as he shuddered through the longest orgasm he’d ever experienced.

His cock was still rigid on his belly, a ruddy red tip surrounded by his release.

Taemin pulled his fingers out slowly. “That was so sexy,” he purred. He slid up, kissing Minho gently.

“Untie me,” Minho breathed, nudging his nose. “Lemme fuck you.”

“I’m not done with you yet,” Taemin said with a giggle. He hopped off the bed and went over to his dresser, digging in the top drawer.

He returned in just a moment with a long, device. It looked a bit like a curved, bumpy T.

“What—“

“A prostate massager,” Taemin answered.

“Oh God—“

“Don’t sound so scared,” he giggled. He lubed up the toy and slid it into Minho’s ass, hitting a button that caused a low vibration.

Minho jerked hard in surprise, his cock throbbing.

“I can’t - not again,” he begged.

“Yes you can. The second one feels even better.”

“It’d feel better if I was inside you,” Minho gasped, his body shuddering involuntarily as the massager nudged his prostate.

“Aw, so sweet.” Taemin leaned over, ghosting his fingertips down Minho’s chest. He stopped just short of his cock, but caught some of his previous orgasm’s release. With a devilish smirk, he brought his hand to his mouth, licking the come from the tips of his fingers.

Minho’s eyes rolled back and he groaned, mouth open. “Tease—“ He whined, flopping his head onto the pillow.

“Want me to take your mind off things?” Taemin offered, stroking Minho’s sides.

“How? You’ve got this thing up my ah—“ He jerked hard, his balls tightening. He could feel another orgasm edging up on him, the steady ache in his groin begging for something more.

“I bet I can.” Taemin rose and went over to the desk. He grabbed his phone and flipped through it for a few moments. Music filled the air, some heavy, thumping beat that had Minho’s heart pounding. Taemin began to dance to the music, his movements lazy and erotic. Hands everywhere, sliding over his body in the way Minho’s itched to do, his hips swinging and thrusting. He slowly stripped his shirt off and each inch of skin he revealed only served to close Minho’s throat that much more.

He writhed against his bindings, begging softly for Taemin to put his mouth on him, ride him, even just touch him. Taemin ignored his pleas, his eyes closed as he moved to the music. Minho knew how easily he could get lost in rhythm, spending hours dancing to whatever was playing. But he wasn’t lost right now. No, Taemin knew exactly where he was and exactly what he was doing.

Minho cried out, his cock jumping. He felt like he was coming, his muscles contracting and releasing as if in an orgasm. He shuddered, sobbing brokenly. The waves of pleasure were bordering on painful, following the vibrations of the toy inside him. Each time he clenched involuntarily it nudged against his prostate once more, sending another wave through his body. He looked down, watching his cock twitch. It seemed to grow a bit and flex before it began to spill dribbles of thick, white come. Tears blurred his vision and he shuddered once more.

“Taemin— Please,” he sobbed brokenly. He could barely feel the release, his entire body at a low level of orgasmic pleasure far too intense for him to handle.

Taemin giggled, wiggling out of his jeans. His cock was standing erect, jutting out the front of his boxers obscenely. “You’re so cute when you whine.”

Minho opened his mouth to respond, but was cut off with an involuntary cry as his cock jerked, hips jumping in response to the toy rubbing his prostate.

“Aw, baby,” Taemin teased. He went forward. Minho jutted his hips toward him, his cock bouncing on his stomach. Despite still dribbling come, he remained as hard as ever, and each brush of his cock even on his own stomach sent shocks through his nerves.

Taemin ignored his desperate cock completely, sliding the toy out of his ass instead. He slid his hands up his thighs, pointedly avoiding his cock.

Minho sobbed, begging under his breath. He knew he was making very little sense but he needed something. His balls and cock ached, the pleasure coursing through him was becoming painful - yet he was still enjoying it? Taemin officially broke him. He yanked on the cuffs.

“Please!” He cried, his voice breaking.

“Please what?” Taemin teased. He leaned back, straddling Minho’s quivering thigh and pulled his cock from his boxers. He pushed it down, rubbing over Minho’s thigh and rutting gently. He moaned happily, biting his bottom lip.

“I need to— C… I don’t know what I need,” Minho admitted, blinking to clear his vision.

“Do you need to come again?” Taemin asked, sliding his hand down. He swirled his finger around Minho’s hole.

“No!” Minho groaned, dropping his head when Taemin’s finger stilled. “I— I mean yes, but… The other way. By touching me. I— I need to be inside you,” he panted.

“Aw, but you look so pretty when you come untouched. The way your cock twitches, and throbs..” He groaned, grinding down on Minho’s thigh.

“I promise it’ll twitch and throb inside you too,” Minho pleaded, trying to reason with him.

“Just one more,” Taemin said.

Minho growled, baring his teeth. He bucked as much as he could, trying to show his dislike of that idea, but Taemin only giggled, slapping his other thigh.

“So aggressive… Make sure you save some of that aggression for me…” He leaned forward, nipping Minho’s earlobe. “After you come again for me… If you’re good… Maybe I’ll untie you and let you fuck me.”

Minho’s eyes rolled back, his mouth falling open as he breathed shakily. Taemin’s voice was dripping with lust, the sound and mental image alone nearly enough to make Minho come then and there.

“Promise?” Taemin prodded.

“Wh—“

“To be a good boy and come for me again.”

Minho grimaced and nodded. “Kiss me…” He breathed.

Taemin allowed him that much, moving enough to capture his mouth in a deep, needy kiss that was more tongue and teeth than lips. Minho chased his mouth as he pulled away, his eyelids growing heavy.

Taemin slid down, settling between his thighs. He slid his hands down Minho’s stomach and legs, then up. Minho tensed, waiting for the disappointment when he skipped that most sensitive spot. He nearly shouted when Taemin’s fingers curled around his aching cock. He moaned happily, his hips arching.

“Touch me, please — Yes— Please—“ he begged nonsensically, humping Taemin’s hand. He knew he likely looked pathetic, but couldn’t help it. Taemin let him go and Minho opened his eyes, watching him grab the lube. He drizzled it over Minho’s cock in excess before grabbing his cock. The strokes were hard and rough, tip to base and back up, bordering on painful. The slide of the lube was almost too much for Minho to enjoy, but he was so desperate to be touched it didn’t matter. He moaned wantonly, hips jerking and thighs squeezing as he begged for more. Taemin’s other hand was playing with his balls, squeezing and tickling, tugging. He looped his fingers around the top of them and tugged down, making Minho hiss.

“Please—“

“Just let it happen,” Taemin said, speaking just loud enough to be heard over the sloppy, wet handjob.

Minho obeyed, writhing under his touches. He began to make soft, happy noises, whimpers and grunts as he neared his orgasm. So close, finally - just what he needed— right there—

Taemin let go of his cock and balls.

Minho shouted, sobbing. His cock dribbled come down his aching length, no spurts, no delightful throb of his balls. His orgasm, right on the edge, faded away once more, ruined. He slammed his head back on the pillow with a frustrated scream, yanking hard enough at the cuffs holding his arms that the bed creaked.

Taemin laughed brightly. “Good!” He said.

“You’re so mean,” Minho snarled, his voice taking on a whining quality. “Why are you doing this?”

“Because it’s hot when you beg,” Minho said simply. “And I like watching you come. Plus… Now when I fuck you, you’re gonna make it so good, and your orgasm is gonna be mind blowing. I promise it’s worth it.”

Minho groaned, screwing his eyes shut. “I can’t come again.”

“Yes you can, there’s plenty of come left in you. Now be good and watch, or I’ll ruin another one.”

Minho opened his eyes. He watched Taemin shuck his boxers and toss them aside. He straddled his hips and ran his hand through the gobs of come on Minho’s belly. Meeting his gaze, he brought his hand back, and Minho could hear the slick, wet sounds of him fingering himself. He moaned weakly, eyes drifting down. He could see some of his own release dribbling down Taemin’s thigh, giving him the look of already being ruined without ever being penetrated. He didn’t give Minho long to stare, quickly grabbing his come and lube covered cock and sliding it into his tight ass. Minho swore he went cross eyed for a second. He moaned loud, arching up. Taemin’s hole was perfect. Warm and tight, a squeeze and a pressure that was just right.

“Fuck - I’m gonna come already,” he whined.

“Don’t you dare.” Taemin smirked, settling fully onto his cock and giving a little bounce that had Minho’s toes curling. “If you try to come before me, I’ll ruin it again.”

“Please, don’t—“ Minho panted.

“Then make me come first… Then you can fill my ass, just like I know you want.”

Minho nodded. He began to work his hips up, trying to pump into Taemin. Taemin leaned back, his cock jutting obscenely from between his legs. He began to ride Minho, moaning and whining as he did. He slid his hands down his chest, pinching his nipples and gently kneading his balls.

Minho groaned, clenching his hands into fists. He desperately wanted to hold him, touch his smooth skin and guide him onto his cock over and over.

“Please,” Taemin whined, moving faster. “I’m already so close…” He looked down, meeting Minho’s gaze. “Watching you come and beg for me was so hot… Fuck, I almost came in my boxers a few times.”

Minho moaned his name softly, arching his hips to help him drive deeper. Taemin’s moans raised in volume , his riding becoming less rhythmic as it increased speed once more.

“Fuck, Minho, please— Can I come on your cock?” He whined, running his fingers through his own hair.

Minho chuckled breathlessly. “Maybe you should ruin your own orgasm,” he teased.

Taemin opened his eyes, smirking. “Next time.” He leaned over, his breath hot on Minho’s cheek. “Next time I’ll tie you up and make you watch me ruin my orgasms over and over, until I can’t come another drop. Then I’ll let you put it in my ass and fuck me. Watch me beg for you to come, moan and scream while I come one last time on your cock.”

Minho and Taemin both moaned at that. Minho nuzzled his neck. “Come for me, baby,” he panted. “Come on my cock, I know you want to.”

Taemin made a small huffing noise and sat up. He braced his hands on Minho’s hips and began to ride him hard, fucking himself down on Minho’s aching cock over and over. His orgasm almost seemed to take him by surprise. He slammed down on Minho’s lap and shuddered, his cock spilling ropes of come onto Minho’s stomach.

“Oh fuck, keep riding me,” Minho pleaded as Taemin’s ass squeezed like a vise around his cock. Taemin obeyed, moaning and whining softly. He began to stroke his still spurting cock, the ropes going a bit further up Minho’s chest.

Minho’s eyes shut on their own volition and he bucked up, earning a delighted shout from Taemin. His cock began to spurt, balls throbbing painfully hard as a full orgasm washed over him. Every muscle in his body clenched and released in sync with his spurts of come, and his vision and hearing began to fade. He could hear shouting; it took him a moment to realize it was him.

His orgasm lasted impossibly long, and faded ever so slowly. Even as his balls relaxed, feeling entirely empty and sore, little waves of pleasure tickled through his body, raising goosebumps and making him shiver and grin like a fool. Taemin pulled off his softening cock with a happy little sigh, and reached up to undo his wrist binding.

Minho rubbed his wrists gently to get some circulation back, his arms feeling heavy.

“Cuddle me,” he whined, his eyes shut.

“Now who’s needy?” Taemin teased. He grabbed a package of wet cleaning wipes and wiped Minho down, then himself, before undoing the ties around his legs. Before Minho could open his mouth to complain again, Taemin curled against him on the bed, throwing one leg over his thighs. “How was it?”

“Amazing.”

“I didn’t push you too far?”

Minho chuckled. “Not too far. But definitely to new limits. I didn’t know I could come like that.”

Taemin grinned. “I’ve wanted to try it. I can do it to myself, I like ruining my own…” He chuckled softly. “I didn’t know if I could make someone else do it.”

“You certainly succeeded. Thank you.”

“Why are you thanking me?” Taemin smacked his chest playfully. “I’m not some escort.”

Minho smirked. “You’d be far too expensive for me if you were… I’m thanking you for being with me, I guess… For choosing me. You could have anyone.”

“I don’t want anyone. I want you.”

“And that’s why I’m thanking you. I’m really lucky.”

Taemin grinned and rolled his eyes. “Yeah, you are. Order us dinner?” He asked, reaching over and grabbing Minho’s phone. He held it up, making his best pouty face.

Minho sighed deeply and rolled his eyes, shaking his head. “You’re insufferable.”

“I’m tired.”

“Says the guy who just made me come a million times.”

“Only four,” Taemin argued. “I mean, if you’d rather me get dinner myself…” He moved to stand. Minho grabbed his wrist, pulling him back down.

“Don’t you dare. I’ll order. What do you want?”

Taemin’s grin was broad, knowing he’d won. “I’ll let you pick. You know what I like.”

Minho nodded, scrolling through his phone to place the order as Taemin snuggled back up to his side. Their relationship may not have been the most conventional but certainly was as far from boring as they could be, and Minho wouldn’t change it for anything.

#taemin x minho #minho x taemin #2min #shinee fanfic #shinee smut #taemin smut #minho smut #taeminho #lee taemin #choi minho #kinktober 2021 #mywriting

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scapegrace74-blog · 3 years

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New Ways of Turning Into Stone

A/N Another long drive, another Outlander fanfic idea that dropped into my brain out of nowhere, shoving aside the historical AU I have been wrestling with for months. Here’s the pitch: Claire Beauchamp is a psychiatrist specializing in grief counselling. Jamie Fraser is referred to her by his sister, who is worried for his well-being after a series of family tragedies. You can probably guess the rest, but I’m going to write it anyway. The title is taken from a song by the amazing Phantogram that was playing as the story idea came to me.

After losing my WIP virginity posting Ginger Snap, I’m going out on that limb again and posting this first chapter with only a rough outline mapped out in my head. You people are a terrible influence! Also, there will be some trigger warnings on future chapters, so please watch out for those. And now, on with our show.

Claire Beauchamp glanced down at the leather-bound calendar open on her desk. The ivory page for Thursday was packed to the margins, each hourly block filled with the name of a patient followed by a series of cuneiform symbols she used to remind herself of the last session, course of treatment, overall progress, all while maintaining strict confidentiality. Not even Geillis Duncan, her office administrator and very good friend, knew how to decode the script.

Geillis liked to laugh at the old-fashioned day planner, reminding Claire that their practice utilized software that could perform the same function electronically, but she enjoyed the act of physically logging each session. The solid heft of her Mont Blanc pen in her hand, a medical school graduation gift from her Uncle Lamb. The scratch and grab of the nub as it bled black ink over virgin paper. It was a tactile ceremony in a detached world. Geillis would nod and then tell her she needed to get laid.

Speak of the devil, a sharp rap on her office door was followed by the appearance of her strawberry blonde head. blue eyes alight with mischief.

“Yer two o’clock is here. Did ye need more time tae finish bolting down tha’ chaff ye call a salad, or can I show him in?”

“It’s kale,” she defended. “It’s full of anti-oxidants.”

A disdainful scoff was the only response.

“Yes, Geil, please show Mister...” she glanced down at her planner, “...Fraser in, thank you.”

The tiny rectangle contained only a name, which meant this was their first appointment. Geillis vetted all prospective patients, but Claire preferred to go into the first meeting blind, with no assumptions or pre-conceptions.

She wondered what misfortune had caused Mr. Fraser to seek out her psychiatric services. The death of a child, perhaps, or the end of an extra-marital affair. People grieved for very different reasons and worked through or around that grief with a surprising variety of coping mechanisms. Most called upon her practice in much the same way they would a breakdown truck when their car’s engine failed. They simply wanted to get back on the road to happiness.

Despite the degrees and accreditations that decorated her office wall, Claire wasn’t certain such a thing was possible. In her experience, grief was a phantom limb that never really went away. The best one could hope for was to learn healthier ways of living with it.

The sound of Geillis clearing her throat snapped her back to the present.

“Was there something else, Geil?”

“Och, no’ really. Just, when yer considerin’ how tae thank me later on, remember tha’ my favourite stone is an emerald, that I prefer gold tae silver, but platinum is ne’er amiss.”

“What are you on about, Duncan?” But her friend had already disappeared back into the reception area, leaving behind only the glow of her Cheshire smile. Claire was shaking her head, bemused, when another knock rang out, this one considerably heavier than the first.

“Come in,” she called as she looked up. And up. And up some more.

The man who now practically filled her office door had to be at least six foot four, with powerful shoulders and a broad torso encased in a blue henley. His nearly endless legs were likewise muscular, as testified by the stretch of his jeans across each thigh. As if his physique wasn’t remarkable enough, he had a head of outrageously wavy red hair, worn long enough to graze the tops of his ears and the nape of his neck, but swept back from a high brow by a judicious use of product. His face was angular in a pleasingly unique way, with a day or two’s growth of beard counter-balancing an almost youthful, earnest appearance. But his most striking feature by far were his aquamarine eyes that shimmered like a tropical sea. Eyes that were currently observing her with perplexity.

“Dr. Beauchamp?” a deep Scottish brogue inquired. He pronounced it as though she were French.

“Yes,” she startled. “That’s me. And it’s pronounced Beecham. Please, come in Mister Fraser.” She shuffled a few items around her desk needlessly as she tried to compose herself. Damn Geillis for not giving her a bit more warning that her newest client was some sort of fitness model.

“Thank ye,” he replied. “An’ it’s pronounced Jamie, if ye please.” She added wit to the growing list of the man’s attributes.

If anything, he grew even more impressive as he approached. She could see he was nervous, although hiding it well. His striking eyes darted about the room, trying to get a sense of his environment. She indicated the well-upholstered armchair that sat to one side of her desk.

“Have a seat,” she invited.

With a surprising amount of grace for one so tall, he eased into the chair but didn’t lean back. The fingers of his left hand tapped restlessly against his thigh. She watched him quietly, waiting for him to speak. This was a trick she had learned when she first started practicing psychiatry, but in this case it also allowed her to continue her appraisal. He was, she concluded, the most attractive man she’d ever seen in the flesh.

“No couch,” he finally observed.

“No. That’s a bit of a Hollywood trope, I’m afraid. Lying prone in front of a stranger is hardly conducive to feeling at ease.”

He nodded his acceptance of her logic, but was otherwise silent.

“So,” she spoke at last, unable to wait him out, “what caused you to seek out counselling, Jamie?” His name suited him, she thought as she spoke it for the first time. Both boyish and imposing at once.

“I didna. Twas my sister, Jenny, who insisted I see a doctor.” His mobile mouth twisted into a grimace. She could imagine the sibling discord that such a demand would have caused. Whoever this Jenny was, she was made of strong stuff. Unfortunately for her, a hostile patient would receive no benefit from merely visiting her office. Counselling was a participatory process, and she could tell from the stubborn set of Jamie’s shoulders that he had no intention of participating.

“I see,” she said carefully. “Well, it’s your time and your dime, Mr. Fraser. This session lasts for forty-five minutes, and you’ve not been here for five. There’s a carafe of hot water on the table over there, if you care for some tea. Or you’re welcome to just enjoy that comfortable chair for another forty minutes. I’ll be working on some administrative necessities.”

She turned her chair away from him, but from the corner of her eye she could see his gobsmacked expression. He had clearly expected her to cajole and manipulate him into co-operating, but that simply wasn’t her style.

“I meant no offence, doctor. I’m certain ye’re verra good at what ye do. Tis only... well, Jenny is my older sister, ye ken. She practically raised me. And so ofttimes she treats me like a muckle-sized bairn, and no’ a man who’s capable of lookin’ after himself.”

As he spoke, Jamie leaned forward until his elbows rested on his knees, expressive hands gesturing in front of his face. Hostile to the notion of counselling he might be, but he clearly wanted her to understand it wasn’t a slight. As a physician, she had been trained to never take a patient’s reactions personally, but it didn’t mean she didn’t appreciate the effort.

“No offence taken, Jamie. If you don’t need my assistance, I’m happy for you. That’s one less person hurting in the world.”

“I didna say I wasna hurting. But I can handle it my own way. I am handling it, that is,” he hurried to add.

Unable to sit still any longer, he rose and walked over to the small table where she kept an assortment of herbal teas and a tray of Geillis’ homemade biscuits. Bending over, Jamie set about making himself some; chamomile by the smell of it. The sound of spoon ringing off porcelain as he stirred in some honey made her smile, reminding her of Lamb and his obsession with the lost art of afternoon tea.

“Can I make ye a cup?”

The question was so unexpected, it took her a moment to process it. The tea was there as a distraction for her patients, to give them something to do with their bodies as they worked through difficult emotions. None of them had ever thought to offer her a reprieve as well.

“No, thank you. I just finished lunch.”

He dipped a shortbread into the steaming tea, then ate it in a single bite. Instead of sitting back down, he began to browse the framed certificates and photographs along the far wall as he sipped his tea. With his back turned, her eyes dipped to admire his ass, which filled out his jeans perfectly. When she caught herself, she gave her head a shake, appalled at her lack of professional detachment. Maybe Geillis was right. Maybe she really did need to get laid.

“How long have ye been a doctor?” Jamie asked without turning around.

“Ten years,” she replied. “But I’ve only been a psychiatrist for the last two.”

It was a dangerous topic, and she blamed his ass for letting the words slip out. Fortunately, his inquisitiveness took him in an entirely different direction.

“Were ye some kind of prodigy, then? Ye hardly seem old enough tae have yer own practice, let alone fer a decade. If ye dinna mind me sayin’ so,” he added quickly, as though realizing what he’d just said.

“Not at all. And you hardly seem young enough to be a, what was it? A muckle-sized bairn?”

As he turned to look her way, she understood the expression ‘shot-gun smile’ for the first time. It spread across his face like a sunbeam, transforming what was already remarkable into a work of art. If she hadn’t been sitting, she likely would have stumbled backward from the force of the blow. Scrambling for something familiar to keep her from making a very grave fool of herself in front of this man, she clasped her clinical training with both hands.

“Are you and your sister close?”

“Aye, when we’re no’ tryin’ not tae kill the other. Our Mam died when I was only four, and with Da workin’ dawn til dark on the farm, Jenny was parent, teacher an’ playmate all rolled inta one.”

“You’re not from Edinburgh, then?” Although what that had to do with his counselling, she hadn’t a clue.

“Nah, I hail from a wee village in the Highlands ye’ve likely ne’er heard of called Broch Mordha.” She shook her head to indicate she was indeed unfamiliar with it. Jamie launched into a detailed description of the place, his hands sculpting the landscape out of thin air. He obviously cared very deeply for his home, and she felt a twinge of jealousy, having never known that feeling of deep belonging herself.

“And what brought you to Old Smoky?” she asked as he wound down, her interest piqued. It was like slamming a lead door on his previously sunny disposition.

“Family obligations.” Said in such a way as to make it clear that no further words would be forthcoming on the topic. She regretted her nosiness immediately, despite what it revealed about his emotional state. Jamie was most certainly grieving something, but handling it he was not.

Before she could find a way back to the easy flow of conversation, a chime from her laptop indicated that the session was up. She couldn’t bear to dismiss him without trying to set things right.

“Listen, Jamie, I understand that you only came here today to humour your sister, but I want you to consider something. Whether we’re grieving or angry or jealous, or any destabilizing feeling, we’re often the worst surveyors of our own landscape. Just like you can’t know your place on the sea without referencing the stars, it takes something external to ourselves to measure how far adrift we have become. Your sister obviously loves you. Ask yourself, what has she seen in you that prompted her to force you to seek help?”

They parted with cordial but muted goodbyes. The door closed behind him, leaving Claire to stare at the blank rectangle in her planner that bore his name. No coded symbols flowed from her pen. When the door re-opened, it was Geillis, closing it firmly behind her.

“Weel, did I no’ tell ye? Wee fox, tha’ one. And he told me he liked my shortbread!” Geillis said this as though it was some kind of sexual euphemism, which for all Claire knew, it was.

“Yes,” she replied distractedly. “He’s very nice.”

“Nice! Nice? Tha’ man is tae nice what Wagyu is tae beef jerky. Have ye completely lost yer senses, woman?”

“Yes, well, he’s a patient, Geillis, as you well know. And not one I’m likely to see again,” she added, acknowledging out loud what she already knew.

“Oh, no?” Geillis sing-songed. “Thas’ strange, as he just made an appointment fer the same time next week.”

Claire’s eyes flew to where her friend looked on, smug as could be.

“Yer three o’clock called tae say she was runnin’ five minutes late. I’ll leave ye tae think about yer... patient.”

Claire picked up her pen, trying to pull together something resembling a professional summary of her first appointment with Jamie. Her mind replayed their interaction, but all she could remember was the way his eyes crinkled when he was listening attentively, the tidy half-moons of his fingernails, the seam of his jeans as it contoured his thigh, and the cymbal-crash in her chest that accompanied his smile.

Patient, she reminded herself. Jamie Fraser is your patient.

#my writing #outlander

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cjsinkythoughts · 3 years

Text

Erased From the Stars: Chapter 2

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 4254

Series Warnings: Toxic Relationships, Cheating, Physical Abuse, Underage Drinking, Drug Use (marijuana), Motor Vehicle Accident, Cursing

Chapter Warnings: Cursing, Mentions of Sex, Cocky Bucky, Nervous Bucky, Bucky Bucky

A/N: I actually have ideas for this story, so I’m cranking it out! I definitely wasn’t expecting to post today, but here we are! This chapter has a lot of dialogue and some of Reader’s thoughts, but not much action, yet. We’re kind of still getting in the roll of things, it still being the first week of college and all that. We do get to meet Bucky, though! Next chapter we’ll meet mostly everyone else, and there will be more things happening other than classes and work. I kinda feel like I’m rushing these first few chapters, so I’m sorry about that, but it’s mostly introductions and setting up the story and I’m the type of person who likes writing the climax and only the climax. So this is steady growth for me.

I do want to point out the series warnings, just in case! I don’t want anyone feeling uncomfortable or being triggered while reading this so please take those seriously as it will happen later on in the story! Thank you!

Once again, this isn’t beta’d so please excuse any mistakes! Thank you for reading and please enjoy!

Erased From the Stars Masterlist

cjsinkythoughts’ Masterlist

You woke up in a much better mood on Tuesday, having gotten more sleep than the previous night, especially considering how tired you were when you got home past midnight from working at Shield. You crashed as soon as your head hit the pillow.

You took your time getting ready and eating breakfast, saying bye to Christine and the kids, leaving first that time since your Public Speaking class started before Kayla’s preschool did.

Which you were late to.

Of course as soon as you let your guard down, thinking you’d be fine since your first day was fine, you weren’t fine.

Fortunately, you were only a few minutes late and didn’t miss anything, since today would be another day of going over rules and course requirements for the two new classes you had.

Public Speaking was the worst. You’re older - and only - sister, Kimberly, convinced you to take the class after saying it was one of her favorites. Of course, you forgot that you and Kim were very different people. For starting at 9:05, it was too early of a class, especially when the whole point was, you know, public speaking. You hadn’t done anything yet, but one glance at the plans your professor had for the semester and you were dreading it already.

Your next class was a US History lecture, which started fifteen minutes after Public Speaking. You were again late because you severely underestimated how far the buildings were and your professor let you out a bit later than you anticipated.

You practically threw all your stuff into your bag the moment he dismissed you and sprinted out.

Arriving, you tried slipping in as silently as possible, but the door slammed shut, rather loudly, making you cringe. You felt yourself heat up as several pairs of eyes snapped towards you, but luckily the professor, Coulson you remembered, was just gathering papers and hadn’t started yet. Ignoring your peers - none of whom you knew and you weren’t sure if that made it worse or not - you shuffled over to the nearest empty seat a few rows down and to the right. You were surprised and extremely grateful to find it was an aisle seat.

Pulling out your laptop, you huffed when it wouldn’t turn on. You hadn’t used it in your previous class, meaning it was dead before, but you could’ve sworn you plugged it in last night. Whatever. You were fine with pen and paper.

“Aw shit.” You resisted the urge to smack your head on the table as you dug through your bag. Seriously?! You forgot to pack a pen?! That couldn’t have been your only pen, right?!

This is why you were anxious. Next morning, you swore you’d get up early and triple check to make sure you had everything.

You quietly threw your bag to the ground and slumped in your seat, your arms crossed. That meant you couldn’t even doodle! You had to sit there for over an hour and listen to this guy talk about another syllabus. Joy.

Suddenly, something hit you in the back of your head. You rubbed where it hit and looked down at your feet, eyebrows knitting together at the scrunched up ball of paper sitting there. “Psst.” Another hit to the head made you whip around, glaring at the culprit.

“What?” You hissed before faltering. Damn. Now that was one hell of a specimen.

Steel blue eyes crinkled at the corner as pink lips pulled up into an entertained grin, pearly whites on display. Sharp jawline covered with light scruff. Fluffy chestnut hair styled with the perfect amount of gel fell a little past his ears, with a single pesky strand falling in his eyes. The white shirt he was wearing was loose with a low collar, a leather jacket thrown over it. You could see the combat boots from underneath the table. He was a pretty boy, yeah, but you hung out with (*cough cough* dated) enough guys dressed like him in high school to know his game.

“Need a pen?” He offered in a whisper, holding up the said object.

“Uhm…yes?”

He smirked, leaning forwards in his chair, closer to you. “I’ll let you have it on one condition.” You raised an eyebrow, giving him a pointed look. “Just a name, babygirl. Yours, specifically.”

You rolled your eyes, glancing around the room to see if you were disturbing anybody. Not seeing anyone paying attention to you two, you turned back to him. “Y/N.”

“Bucky.” He introduced himself, reaching over to shake your hand. You took it, a bit hesitant, blinking when you felt something fall into your palm once he pulled back. The pen.

“I, uh, thanks.”

He winked at you, leaning back in his chair, hands linked behind his head. “No problem, doll.”

You turned back to the lecture, holding in your scoff at his pet name, hating the fact that it nearly made you smile. He was definitely a fuckboy and you told yourself before college that you wouldn’t play around with them anymore.

So you tuned him out of your mind for the rest of the lecture and, thank God, you had to rush out of class once it ended because you had to work in half an hour, not even letting the blue eyed pretty boy say a word in your direction.

You worked for the rest of the day, Russo’s for lunch, a few hours break to look over school stuff and have dinner with your family, before Shield from 9 to 1. It was fine. Long, but nothing you weren’t used to already. You really enjoyed both your jobs and you got lucky with your bosses.

Joe and Anthony were brothers who took over Russo’s for their parents. The pizzeria had been in their family for generations, and they gladly took on the tradition. They had kids of their own and dealt with their school, so they were very understanding - almost parental - to you.

Phillips had started Shield after retiring from the Army, wanting to settle down with a place to drink, smoke, and play poker with his buddies. He was stern, but that was to be expected. He always told you, “you can take the man out of the Army, but you can’t take the Army out of the man.” Despite him being strict, though, he was reasonable, and had taken a liken to you since the moment you stepped foot in the bar.

And not only did you like your jobs, the money wasn’t too bad either.

But, despite that, you were still human, and having two back-to-back college classes and then working two jobs for over eight hours was draining.

You made sure everything was ready for the next day before you left for Shield, that way you could just get home, change, and sleep. Tuesday might’ve been a rough starting day, but you’d learn for Thursday, and Wednesday’s morning was definitely better.

Peter even texted you his coffee order, telling you he’d probably be late. You chuckled to yourself when you got the text at breakfast. You totally called it.

In his defense, he really was running late, and you could tell just by looking at him. One shoe untied, hair messy like he just rolled out of bed, sweater haphazardly thrown on like it was an afterthought, which it probably was.

“You,” he puffed, sinking into his chair and taking the coffee cup you held out. “Are my savior and I’ll love you until the end of time.”

You chuckled, shaking your head. “And you, my friend, are so much more chaotic than I thought. What’d you do? Stay up until three last night?”

He shrugged, shooting you an innocent smile while his cheeks turned red. “I got caught up binge watching Clone Wars.”

“Of course you did. Here’s the notes you missed so far.”

He gave you an adoring smile. “Did I tell you I love you?”

“Yeah, yeah. Sap. Hurry and copy them down so I don’t miss anything.”

********************

It was when you were checking your things Wednesday night when you realized you had an extra pen. It took you a moment to remember the blue eyed pretty boy from Coulson’s History lecture, but when you did you groaned.

Your dating record in high school was pretty bad. Not that you would really call it dating. But Whitney was right when she said it was you wanting attention. It wasn’t easy being the middle of seven. But you dealt with it and now that you were across the country from your family - who you loved but Jesus Christ did you need a break - you didn’t need to act out to seek attention.

You were an adult. Meaning you wouldn’t goof off with guys like that anymore. Meaning you didn’t even want to talk to guys like that anymore.

Meaning you were severely regretting taking his stupid pen.

Maybe he wouldn’t notice if you didn’t give it back. Yeah. Maybe you could just ignore him and he won’t even remember that he let you borrow it.

Those were your hopes as you walked into your US History lecture, taking the seat you had on Tuesday.

“On time today? Glad to see we’re learning.” And there go your hopes, crashing straight into the floor, shattering into millions of tiny pieces. Going for ‘not interested’, you quirked an eyebrow, twisting your head as a bag landed on the table next to your open laptop, a body falling into the seat beside you. The leather jacket was replaced with a denim one, his black button up tighter around his chest than Tuesday’s white t-shirt. “And you charged your computer! Very nice, doll.”

You shrugged, going back to your doodling. “Time management’s always been a bit of an issue for me.”

“Ah. Gotchu, gotchu. I’ve got a pal like that too. A couple of them, actually.” He chuckled. “Is that why you high-tailed outta here Tuesday?”

“I’ve got work right after this class.” You answered shortly.

He leaned his elbow on the table, his legs spread as he turned fully to, a slight smirk on his face. “I haven’t seen you ‘round campus before. You new here? A freshman? You don’t look like it.”

You hummed. “Maybe. It’s a big campus.”

“Which you don’t live on.”

Frowning at the question that he said more like a statement, you moved your head back to him. “I don’t?”

He shook his head, setting his cheek in his palm. “Nope. I know everyone who lives on campus.”

A bit distracted due to Professor Coulson just walking in and announcing the lesson for the day, you hummed and shut your notebook and set up a page on your laptop for notes. “Everyone, huh?”

He nodded with a click of his tongue. “I get around.”

There it was. “Oh? A party animal?”

“I wouldn’t say that. My friends and I are just outgoing. We enjoy life.”

“Enjoy life or enjoy getting into girl’s pants?”

He hissed, shaking his hand like he burned it. “Ouch, doll. That stung. For your information, quite a few people in my group are goin’ steady. And we’re of mixed genders and sexualities. It’s not always girls’ pants.”

You raised an eyebrow, turning to him while still trying to pay attention. “For you or your group.”

“Does it matter?” He shrugged. “Would it bother you if I did fuck guys? ‘Cause I have experimented and it’s not half bad.”

“Nope.” You popped the ‘p’, shaking your head. “You do you, pal. Or…do whoever you want to. Now if you don’t mind, I’m trying to-”

He nodded. “Right, right. Yeah. Sorry. Just…listen. I think we got off on the wrong foot. I’m not gonna force you to do anything, you know. Yeah, sure, I’ve seen a few beds around campus, but I’ve got female friends who I don’t sleep with. What if I just wanna be friends with you, huh doll?”

“Just friends?”

“Yup.”

“Really?”

“Uh-huh.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Okay. How many of these so-called female friends you don’t sleep with single?”

He chuckled, running a hand through his hair. “The list gets smaller, but yeah.”

“How about single straight female friends?”

He paused at that, eyebrows scrunched up. After a moment you clicked your tongue with a slight smirk, facing your computer and typing the notes Coulson was writing on the projector. “Hold on, hold on. Yes, I’ve got a few of them. Listen, babygirl, you’re making this a lot harder than it needs to be.”

You scoffed. “Don’t call me ‘babygirl’ and we’ll see where that gets you.”

“Okay, okay. That’s fair. What? Don’t you believe that guys and girls can be friends with nothing between ‘em?”

“Yeah, I do. Just not guys like you.”

He frowned, eyes narrowing. “Well that’s not fair. You don’t even know me!”

“Mister Barnes.” Bucky winced at the teacher’s annoyed shout, before throwing Coulson a dashing grin.

“Hey, Phil! How was your summer, man? You still goin’ out with that cellist?”

The professor raised his eyebrows, unamused. “Is there something you’d like to share with the class?”

“Oh yeah! Thanks for the reminder, Phil!” Bucky stood up and cleared his throat. “Yo! First football game of the season is next Friday! It’s gonna be a blast! Watch out for number 41! Handsome devil’s gonna score the winning touchdown! Avengers assemble, am I right?!”

Coulson gave him an unamused look as the room cheered, making you laugh behind your hand. Bucky fell back into his seat, shooting you a wink as Coulson calmed down the room.

“You’re a football player?”

“Fullback, yes ma’am. Co-captain of the team, in fact.” He smugly leaned his seat onto the back two legs, setting his feet up on the desk.

Unbelievable. Why were you always attracted to these idiots? A player in both senses of the word. “There it is.”

He blinked, his chair falling forwards with a ‘thud’ that made Coulson shot him a warning glare. Bucky smiled innocently, before shifting his chair so he was turned towards you again, the smile turning upside down. “There what is?”

“That cocky, conceited air you fill the room with. Attention is what you live for. I should’ve guessed you were a jock too. I’m surprised you’re not wearing a letterman jacket or something just to make sure everyone knows who you are.”

His frown deepened. “Look, doll. I dunno what you think you know about me, or what you’ve heard-”

“I’ve never heard about you before you lent me a pen Tuesday. Which I appreciate and here it is back, by the way. But I know your type. I’ve been down that road. So excuse me for trying not to make the same mistake twice.”

He stared at the pen you set down by his bag, before his gaze flitted back to you, but you wouldn’t meet those pretty eyes of his. “Fine. Sue me for trying to get to know the new girl.”

“This is a mainly freshman class. Half the girls in here are new.”

“Yeah, but they’re chattering away with the posse they’ve already discovered.” He nodded over across the room. Your eyes scanned the lecture hall to find that he was right. Most girls were giggling and whispering to each other, no doubt freshman straight from high school. The others were most likely maturing sophomores. “And, hey, if you want extra reassurance I’m not trying to get you in my bed; I don’t fuck with freshman. Nothing against you or anything, just…straight outta high school and all that? Not really my jam.”

You eyed him, before shrugging and looking down to make sure you got the notes Coulson was starting to talk about. “Yeah, well, too bad I’m not straight out of high school, then.”

He tilted his head, an eyebrow raising in curiosity. “So you’re not a freshman. I didn’t think you were.”

“No, I am. But I took a year break between high school and college. But if you didn’t think I was a freshman, that reassurance doesn’t really work, now does it.” He opened his mouth to defend himself, but you continued, not wanting excuses. “What about you? You’re definitely not a freshman.”

“Nah. I’m a junior. I studied abroad for a semester last year and there were mishaps my freshman year, so I’ve got a few classes to make up. My friend had this class last year, so I just took all his notes. Coulson never changes his lectures. Pretty sure he doesn’t even change the tests.” You hummed, pretending you were barely listening when you really heard every word loud and clear. Bucky huffed, reaching out to grab your wrist gently, making you stop typing and look up to meet his eyes. “Can we start over? Please. I don’t know what type of guys you used to know or whatever and, yeah, I’ll admit I started the conversation like an idiot, but I promise I’m not that bad.”

Pursing your lips, you scanned his features, taking in the pleading eyes and the pouty lips. Clearing your throat, you took your hands off the keyboard, straightened a bit, and turned to him, holding out your hand, your full name falling from your lips.

The beam he gave you had you severely doubting your initial thoughts about him, his larger, calloused hand taking your eagerly. “James Barnes. Everyone calls me Bucky.”

You nodded, before starting to type again. “What are you studying?”

“Mechanical engineering.”

You paused, not expecting that answer. Maybe you were wrong - majorly wrong. “Really?”

“Yeah. I dunno. Technology’s always interested me and I like fixing cars and stuff; I work at an auto shop actually. I dunno what I’m gonna do with it yet, but it feels like a step in the right direction, ya know?”

“I’m afraid not.” You shook your head. “I have no idea what I’m doing.”

He chuckled, drumming his fingers against the table. “That’s alright, doll. I don’t think anyone does. They just think they do.”

“That’s…very true, actually.”

He grinned, running a hand through his hair again, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. “I told you: I’m not an idiot all the time. I swear.” That made you laugh.

Bucky talked to you throughout the rest of the class, never going above a whisper as he babbled about his other classes and how one of his friends, Sam, tripped down the stairs that morning. You were almost annoyed at him, but he was a very good conversationalist and he wasn’t distracting you too badly. There weren’t any awkward pauses while he stumbled around for something to talk about and if he wasn’t talking, it was a comfortable silence filled with Coulson’s voice, pen scribbling on paper, and the clicking of computer keys. He never pushed you for responses, either, only asking a couple questions, like where you worked and what other classes you had.

“Sorry if I’m bothering you.” He said a few minutes before class was over. “I’m just bored.”

“No. You’re fine.” Honestly, besides a few flirty comments and that pet name ‘doll’ popping up here and there, he wasn’t as bad as you were thinking.

He went quiet for a moment before clearing his throat, almost nervously. Your forehead creased as you snuck a glance at him. He licked his lips, a hand combing through his locks, scratching the back of his head. You wondered why he did that so often.

“So, uh, there’s this cabin in the woods by the lake about half an hour away…” His eyes widened at the weird look you shot him. “Oh fuck, that sounds so bad. No, no. It’s not - I’m not a serial killer or anything. My friend owns it. Well, technically his dad does, but it’s his. Anyways, he always throws a party the first weekend of a new semester. On Saturday. Noon to midnight. If you’d wanna come.”

You quirked an eyebrow, packing up your stuff as Coulson dismissed class early. “You’re asking me to go to your friend’s cabin in the woods-?”

He shook his head with a little laugh. “It sounds so sketchy. I promise it’s legit, though. Honest. You can ask anyone. It’s Tony Stark’s party. He holds one every-”

“You’re friends with Tony Stark?”

He nodded, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Yeah. We’re in the same circle. I know how it sounds, but-”

“I’m working.” You cut him off, finding it amusing how he rambled. Who knew a fuckboy could get so nervous about asking a girl to a party. “But if you give me the address I’ll see if I can get some time off.”

“That’d be awesome. Yeah, yeah. Here.” He quickly grabbed the post-it note you handed to him and scribbled the address down. “It’d be really cool if you could make it.”

“I’ll try. Cross my heart.” You smiled, taking the paper from him. “I do have to go, though-”

“Oh right. Yeah. Work. I’ll see you this weekend, then. Maybe.” He grinned.

You bit your lip, nodding. “Maybe.”

As he started walking out, you looked down to grab your bag, the pen left on the table catching your attention. “Hey!” You called after him, making him turn around, walking backwards with that grin still on his lips. You lifted the writing utensil to show him. “Your pen!”

He shook his head. “Keep it! I don’t take notes in this class anyways!” He shot you a wink, before spinning on his heel, his hands in his pockets, whistling some random tune, without a care in the world.

**********************

“There she is! So?! How’s school been?! I wanna know!”

You grinned at Whitney as she bounced in, looking at you excitedly while going to wash her hands. “You’re working early today. It’s only 3.”

She shrugged. “They wanted me in before dinner rush tonight. Don’t dodge the question!”

“It’s been fine. I’ve met a couple people, doodled a few things, ignored syllabus talk - the usual.”

She sniggered, moving her eyebrows. “Any cute guys so far?” You thought back to your History lecture and Bucky, who confused the hell out of you. Whitney’s squeal pulled you out of your thoughts. “That’s a yes! Tell me about him immediately!”

“It’s not a ‘yes’. There’s nothing to tell.”

“But he is hot, right?”

You rolled your eyes, but your lips pulled up at the corners. “He’s…very easy on the eyes.”

Whitney gave an excited squeak, quickly drying her hands and putting on gloves before sliding up to you. “So? Tell me all about him.”

“Nothing to tell.”

“Bull.” She called out. “What’s his name?”

You huffed, focusing on the pizza you were making. “Bucky.”

She tried it out on her tongue before nodding. “Cute, cute. How old is he?”

“He’s a junior, so I’m guessing 20. Maybe 21 if his birthday was in the past week.”

Whitney hounded on you for every detail of your conversation, which you told her with some exception, leaving out the pen and some of the random stuff he told you. “So he’s a fuckboy?”

“Oh yeah. No doubt.”

“But he’s a charming fuckboy?”

“Mhmm.”

“And he’s not a dick?”

“So far.”

“So…he’s your type.”

You scoffed, giving her a look. “I don’t have a ‘type’.”

She gave you a bemused expression back. “Honey, it’s not a secret you like the charismatic guys that every girl swoons over. You just don’t swoon over them and that’s what makes you different.”

You scowled. “I don’t swoon over them because they don’t deserve my effort. And no. I don’t have a thing for them. I just…tend to get their attention more than other guys.”

“Because you don’t swoon over them.”

“Whitney-”

“Okay, okay. What happened next?”

You shrugged. “Nothing. He just sorta…talked the entire class. He did invite me to a party on Saturday though-”

“Oh my God! You have to go! College parties are the best! You’ll have so much fun!” She stopped to give you a serious look, pointing a finger towards you. “You’re going, right?”

“I dunno. Maybe. I’ve got to ask Phillips if I can get time off and I-I dunno if I even want to go.”

Whitney groaned, throwing her hands in the air and letting her head fall back. “This is the first party of your college life! There shouldn’t be any doubt!”

“Apparently Tony Stark is the one throwing it-”

“Are you fucking - you can’t not go!”

You snickered, Whitney’s persistence amusing you. “Again. It depends on Phillips. We’ll see. I promise.”

“At least tell me you got this guy’s number.”

“Nope.”

Whitney glared at you. “You are the absolute worst person to try getting drama out of, you know that? You’re not interested at all in this guy?”

You shrugged, turning to throw the pizza in. “Maybe. I wanna try out this whole friend thing first. Tommy’s the first real guy friend I’ve had since middle school and that’s mostly because he’s gay and we barely even talk outside work. I’ve never just…let myself take a break from dating before.”

A sigh came from the other girl, who reluctantly nodded. “That’s good, actually. Take a mental break. I respect that. But please, for the love of God, please try to have fun.”

You smirked, nodding. “I’ve told you, Whit. I know how to have fun. Don’t worry; if I do go to that party, I’ll have enough for both of us.”

“Yes! I have to live college through you now, so it’s your responsibility!”

You mockingly saluted. “I won’t let you down, babe.”

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mxgilray · 3 years

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I... have some thoughts on the Loki finale. It was not what I was expecting, but I'm still hopeful for season 2.

This felt like a meh finale, like how a lot of season finales felt in Spring 2020 when they unexpectedly quit filming and had to cut things short by a couple episodes thanks to the pandemic. Only this was the planned out finale, they should've given a bit more oomph. I'm quite a fan of exposition and character development usually, but all the dialog was centered on He Who Remains, so it felt like our main characters were just side pieces.

Plus, the final "cliffhanger" of Mobius not knowing Loki and the statue of HWR replacing the Time Keeper statues felt quite lackluster. Not sure how they could've made it hit harder, but it didn't deliver the "oh shit" vibes they intended, but maybe that's cuz Mobius not remembering Loki has been an expected plot line on tumblr for half the season so it wasn't a blindside.

I get the point of the Sylki kiss. From what I've seen on tumblr so far I feel like the nuance of Sylvies actions was lost to most people (both Sylki fans and antis just Didn't Get It). It wasn't a big declaration of love like the fans are grasping onto it as, and it wasn't shoving selfcest into the canon to keep the heternormativity like antis are accusing it of being; it was Sylvie using Loki's attachment to her to trick him. She needed Loki out of her way, and she knew the only way to get past him and get He Who Remains' tempad was through emotional distraction. She used his love against him and betrayed him, a kiss was simply the most efficient way to do it. I did a whole post last week about Sylvie's feelings towards Loki, but to sum up I firmly believe that while Loki harbors some romantic feelings for Sylvie, she feels strictly platonic towards him, but is very aware of his attraction. She took advantage of his care for her to get the upper hand during their fight. Heck she even foreshadowed it herself in ep 5. "There are more important things than friends" "like taking down the TVA" she told Loki that taking down whoever is behind the TVA comes before everything; it's priority #1 in her book, above friendship or love or trust. Loki proved that his priority now is the greater good of the universe not her revenge, so Sylvie has no use for him anymore (partners only when it's convenient, because she is a Loki and that's how emotionally stunted Lokis behave).

I would like to point out the irony of her being worried about Loki betraying her, only to turn around and betray him. It's in the realm of "people who cheat assuming their partner is cheating" / "not using a turn signal when changing planes to avoid being cut off because when you see someone else use their signal you tend to cut them off", it's assuming other people will behave like you do. Sylvie feared in ep 5 that Loki would betray her in the end because she knew if it came down to it she'd betray him. But the thing is, he's actually grown past that. Loki is finally thinking about how his actions can damage others, not just his own wants and needs. Sylvie saw this moral change in Loki, realized there was no chance of getting him back on the blind revenge boat, and decided to exploit his newfound selflessness and emotional attachment to get him out of her path.

This whole season Loki has been maturing emotionally and growing into the best, most heroic version of himself. Sylvie, on the other hand, still has that deceptive, selfish, can't trust anyone persona that every Loki develops to combat insecurity. She hasn't had the emotional growth needed to see the bigger picture, she's still trapped in her own self centered mindset. As such, she disregards the impact her betrayal will have on Loki, the impact killing HWR will have on the universe. She doesn't even take a beat to consider whether revenge is still the right path cuz she doesn't practice self reflection yet; revenge has always been the goal and she refuses to give herself a chance of changing her mind. I hope in season 2 she'll get some character growth, now that her 1 goal has been accomplished.

Now on to Mobius. I enjoyed his scenes, I wish we'd been shown more of what he did to reveal the truth to the rest of the TVA. Again, I feel like too much time was given to HWR's monologing and not enough was spent on the other characters so Mobius and B-15 got very little screen time to display their plan. I am happy Mobius got the opportunity to throw Ranslayers betrayal back in her face, and his attemp at attacking her...my boy you work a desk job you ain't no fighter, she used to work in the field collecting variants, you had no chance. Also, where the F did she go??? I kept expecting her to show up at the end of time but she didn't. Where did Miss Minutes send her??

I'm sad Mobius doesn't know Loki anymore, but I can't say I'm surprised. I've got a few different thoughts on what the heck is going on with him and the TVA:

Sylvie accidentally sent Loki way back to a time early on in the TVA before HWR created the Time Keepers for anonymity. As such, this is a past Mobius who has yet to meet Loki or even learn of Loki's existence. If this is the case, then I think Loki and Past!Mobius's interaction at the end of ep 6 will be the catalyst for him becoming a Loki expert. The 63 branching timelines Mobius and B-15 are discussing before Loki interrupts are from some currently unknown disaster that'll be a plot line in s2. (This is my least favorite theory, but nevertheless a possibility)

HWR was correct when he said that if Sylvie kills him and destroys the TVA then another variant of him will just start it all up again. This variant didn't care to remain anonymous, hence the big statue of him, but kept all the memory wiped variants working there. Because time is a chaotic bitch, the changeover from one HWR variant to another may have been near seamless at the TVA and just involved a quick memory wipe of anything relating to the Time Keepers, Loki and Sylvie, or knowledge that the TVA are all variants. The 63 branches may be thanks to something Renslayer is doing like killing all the HWR variants in existence in order to negate the need for the TVA. The branching could also be from Sylvie's revenge still, we have no idea how much time has passed between her killing HWR and a new HWR taking over so the branching she caused could still be an issue.

There have actually been multiple TVAs running simultaneously, each in their own multiverse. Each one employs memory wiped variants, each one is in charge of a certain subset of timelines, and all work under the one HWR. Sylvie used HWR's tempad to eject Loki back to the TVA, but she accidentally sent him to the TVA of a different multiverse not realizing that's a Thing. The 63 branching timelines Mobius and B-15 are discussing are indeed from Sylvie killing HWR, but there's only 63 as opposed to the countless we saw diverging from Sylvie's perspective because this TVA only sees branches on timelines within their own multiverse. Mobius doesn't know Loki because he isn't our Mobius and in the multiverse he works in maybe Loki's aren't as much of an issue because none of them ever escaped the TVA like Sylvie did (or none of them have Tom's face so he doesn't recognize him as a Loki). If this is the case, then Loki is gonna have to find his way back to his own multiverse in order to be reunited with his Mobius, and that could end up happening thanks to Renslayer. Miss Minutes gave her a file that I suspect only HWR should have access to. Maybe it was tempad coordinates for other multiverses? It took til the 31st century for the multiverses to be connected despite Tony figuring out time travel in the 21st century because travel between universes is much harder, maybe HWR is still the only one who knows how to do that. (If this theory is correct then all the time travel done during Endgame was through timelines within one multiverse) Also just thought of this but what if the reason there are so many extreme variations of loki that grew to adulthood is because the criteria of "sacred timeline" is different in each multiverse. Classic Loki and maybe President Loki and Kid Loki are from the same universe as MCU Loki, but red haired Loki, Croki, Boastful Loki, etc are all from other universes. Think about it, Classic Loki, 2012 Loki, and MCU Loki all have an exact identical path up until their nexus event (or death in MCU Loki's case). I think other than identifying as female, Sylvie's childhood was identical as well and that her nexus event was coming to terms with her adoption as a child, which erased the catalyst of 2011 Thor's plot and would've changed everything for her future path. Had her adoption remained a secret and she grew up on asgard, I believe her story would mirror MCU Loki's. It mildly hit me weird that there would be such wild variation amongst Lokis, even with him being a shapeshifter, because there's a rigid sacred timeline (that supposedly the MCU movies have all adhered to) and they all felt like too big of a divergence to have been left unchecked so long. If boastful Loki was telling the truth about getting all 6 infinity stones then he should've triggered a nexus event as soon as he got more than the 3 he is "supposed to" interact with, unless in his multiverse the sacred timeline criteria is different. Another theory: the agents employed in each TVA are from multiverses other than the one they're working in. It would make sense, keep them from running into their own past by fully detaching each agent from their home timeline/universe. So the Principal!Renslayer that B-15 found will never in any future become the TVA judge we know. The one we know maybe came from the universe Loki got sent to, and that's how the two of them will end up crossing paths again.

#loki series #loki spoilers #loki #lokius #sylki #sylvie laufeydottir #mobius m mobius #tva loki #time variance authority #loki meta #mcu #marvel

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jenonctcity · 4 years

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My Ending - Part 1

Differences – Na Jaemin

Part of the Bad Boy Series.

Badboy!Au, Streetracer!Au

Disclaimer: This is going to be a very dark themed story, please do not read if you are triggered easily by the mentioned subjects in the warnings.

I recommend reading Jeno’s story first so that it’s easier for you to understand the timeline and plot of this story.

Warnings: Minor Character Death, Mention of Suicide Attempts, Mental Health Issues (Depression and Anxiety), Mentions of Drug Use/Overdose, Mention of Drug Addiction Effecting Baby After Birth.

Word Count: 5k

Jaemin was used to living his life in black and white. His whole life had always been a mix of muggy grey, never having experienced enough positive emotion for a long enough period that flecks of colour could mix into his greyscale life. Of course he had happy moments, excited moments, moments of enthusiasm, and moments of hope. He wasn’t a robot. But he found that it was the sad moments, fearful moments, moments of anxiety, and moments of anger that outweighed all other emotions and lead his world to darken in colour. It all started when he was born. Born to a drug addict mother, and a father who had long since ran away from the responsibilities of raising a child. He had been born a month early with his body uncontrollably shaking, his body craving the heroin that his mother had been shooting when she was carrying him. He had been taken from her immediately and his grandmother on his fathers’ side had stepped up to take on the responsibility of raising the precious, underdeveloped baby.

The first few years of Jaemin’s life had been rough. He was significantly smaller than most of the children his age, and he didn’t start walking until he was two years old, almost a year later than he should have, and he had such a low immune system that he was constantly falling ill and being taken in and out of hospital. It was a tough challenge for his grandmother, but she adored her little miracle and did everything she could to keep him alive and happy. They’d hoped that Jaemin’s growth would catch up with him by the time he started school, but their hopes didn’t pan out, and he was still much smaller than all of the other children. On top of that, he struggled to keep up with the level of learning and was picked on by the other children for his tiny frame, lack of knowledge, and also, lack of parents. His teenage years weren’t much better. Even though he soon caught up with everybody in the height and education department, it wasn’t the bullying that bothered him anymore, it was the emotional scars that sat inside of his head like a poisonous fog, taunting him like those kids had through all of his school years.

He couldn’t understand why his mother had done what she’d done, and why she didn’t love him in the way a mother should love her son. He had seen his mother so little that he could count each encounter on one of his hands. Which is why as he walked back into the apartment, wearing his suit and holding the funeral programme that had a picture of his mother on the front, he felt numb. He let out a soft sigh as he sat down on the sofa beside Jeno, chucking the papers onto the coffee table in front of him and running a hand through his blond hair as he tried to gather his thoughts. Jeno didn’t physically react to Jaemin’s arrival apart from letting a soft smile tug at the corners of his lips. After a silence of five minutes with Jaemin just started absentmindedly into thin air, Jeno spoke up.

“How did it go?” Jeno’s voice was soft, his head still facing towards the quiet television as reruns of spongebob played.

“How did you know it was me?” Jaemin glanced at his blind friend, raising an eyebrow and trying not to put too much amusement in his tone, not feeling like he should be joking around after being to his mother’s funeral.

“Haechan is in his room, and Renjun is out picking Jiyeon up. I heard the door open and couldn’t hear Jiyeon shouting for one of her uncles so I just did the mystery solving and figured out it would be you.” He shrugged, a weak laugh vibrating off of his chest before he sighed. “You didn’t answer my question Jaem.” Jaemin sighed once more, wiping his sweaty palms on his thighs and resting his head back against the sofa.

“It was fine…” He couldn’t quite pinpoint the feelings rushing around inside of him. He felt anger, sadness, a dash of regret, but mostly relief. Anger because he was angry that she never made a proper effort with him, just brushing him aside and acting as if the drugs she owned were her precious child rather than the actual baby she’d made and given birth to. Sadness because he could never make amends with her and have the bond that most mothers and sons have. Regret because he knew once he hit the age of sixteen and was able to make sensible decisions for himself, he could have been the one to make the effort. And relief because he knew he didn’t have to spend nights worrying if the money he had sent his mother was being used to buy drugs instead of keeping food in her mouth. Relief because she couldn’t hurt herself anymore. Relief because the reason his depression was gone. Not that she took his mental health problems with her to the grave, but it gave Jaemin a horribly sick satisfaction that he could only diagnose as revenge. Which made him want to weep at how his brain could even think of something as horrid at that. Jaemin felt awful that he was thankful for Jeno’s blindness, so that he couldn’t see the tears that dribbled down his cheeks, silent sobs for the mother he spent so many nights crying over as a child, wishing for the mother he never had.

“Are you sure? It’s okay not to be okay.” Jaemin wanted to squeeze Jeno for how sweet the boy was being, but he just let out a huff of a laugh and wiped his tears away. He glanced down at his hands, gulping back the lump in his throat as his mind drifted to the nervous breakdown that Jeno had experienced only a week prior. Jeno had hit his breaking point and had expressed how much he worries about Jaemin, because of Jaemin’s previous failed suicide attempts that had clearly chipped away at Jeno’s mental stability. Jaemin felt the pit in his stomach he usually got when he was at his lowest mentally, but he didn’t want to pile more worries onto Jeno’s plate, so he faked a smile, despite Jeno’s lack of sight, it was more for himself than anyone else. Besides, it had been over two years since Jaemin had last attempted to take his own life, and he felt like he’d moved on from that stage of his life. He hoped.

“I’m fine, you haven’t got to worry about me.”

“Okay, because my kid is going to need its Uncle Nana to be a happy bastard not a moody bastard.” Jeno let out an amused laugh, trying to lighten the tone. It worked, the thought of Jeno’s unborn child bringing a big smile to his face.

“Uncle Nana is going to be its favourite per-” Jaemin was cut off by the sound of his phone ringing in his pocket. He fished it out of his blazer pocket and answered it quickly when he saw the caller ID. “Hello?”

“Hello, is this Mr Na?” An unfamiliar male voice sounded through the phone, the voice calm and deep.

“It is.”

“I’m just calling to inform you that your grandmother has had a fall, the paramedics are with her now and the carer who was there when it happened is still there. I’ve been told that there hasn’t been any extensive damage, but I thought it would be best to let you know, as you’re the emergency contact.” Jaemin felt his world almost crumble in on him for a moment, the words about her not having much damage cooled him down slightly, but the panicked fire burning in his stomach was still very much alight.

“Okay, thank you for letting me know.” He hung up the call and gulped down the fireball of anxiety blazing in his throat. He was on his feet before he knew it, digging his keys out of his pocket. “My grandma fell over; I’ll be back soon.” He mumbled to Jeno, his mind foggy so he didn’t even hear Jeno’s gasp and quick ‘Is she okay!?’ before he was out of the door, sprinting down the stairs, and practically jumping into his car. He didn’t even look at the speed he was driving at because he didn’t care, all he cared about was seeing his grandmother and confirming the man on the phones statement that she was okay. He stopped out the front of her house and ran to the door, letting himself in with shaky hands and looking at the paramedics as they packed up their stuff in the entranceway.

“I’m her grandson, is she okay?!” His words came out so fast that the paramedic he’d aimed the question at almost didn’t understand what he’d said. “Is she?!” He repeated, a sheen of sweat on his forehead from his panic.

“She is, son,” The male paramedic addressed Jaemin, giving him a calming smile and pat on the arm. “We’ve given her some pain medication, and she’ll have a large bruise on her hip, but she didn’t fall hard enough to break anything. She’s just gone to sleep; I would leave it a little while before you disturb her though.” Jaemin nodded along, taking in all of the information with a small sigh of relief.

“Okay, thank you so much for taking care of her.” They bid their goodbyes and left, shutting the door behind them as Jaemin made his way into the kitchen. He stopped dead in his tracks in the doorway, his eyes trained on you stood by the kitchen sink with your back to him, wearing what looked like hospital scrubs over the tops of a long-sleeved floral top. Your shoulders were shaking gently as you let out all of your emotions, having assumed you were now alone in the house seeing as you heard the front door shut. Jaemin cleared his throat, causing you to squeal in surprise and turn around fast, a spatula that you’d grabbed out of the washing up bowl now in your hand being held up as a weapon.

“Who are you?!” Your eyes were wide, and if it wasn’t so comical, Jaemin would have been absolutely speechless from how stunning he found your features. He had an amused smile on his face as he quickly held his hands up in surrender.

“My name is Jaemin, I’m the grandson! Please don’t…spatula me.” You sighed in relief, lowering the spatula onto the drying rack. “I didn’t mean to scare you, I apologise.” He stepped forward, giving you a small bow. You bowed back and smiled politely, trying to ignore the heat that flooded your cheeks from the embarrassing encounter, also he was gorgeous, and it took you by surprise. You suddenly remembered your wet cheeks, using the back of your hand to wipe your tears away. “Are you okay?”

“Apology accepted, I’m (Y/N), I’m fine…it was just, really…hard to watch you know?” You nodded, sending him a weak smile with a quick nod. He tilted his head and poked his tongue into his cheek in thought.

“You’re my grandma’s carer?” He took a seat at the dining table, fiddling with the tablemat as he kept his eyes on you. The more you looked at him, the more you recognised him from the photos that were dotted around the house. He looked a lot different though, more mature and with more tattoos. One of the tattoos that you noticed were the roman numerals vertically written on his neck, just underneath his left ear, you were curious as to what the number was and to what it meant. He looked handsome in his suit, and you wondered what the occasion was as to why he was wearing such formal wear.

“I am, I haven’t seen you here before…she talks about you a lot.”

“All good things I hope.” He chuckled, giving you a cheeky wink. You felt the wink inside of your stomach and giggled nervously.

“She adores you!” You sat opposite him at the table, brushing some of your hair behind your ear as you thought about all the stories, she’d told you over the past few months that you’d been one of her carers. “I’m surprised I haven’t bumped into you before; she says you visit her a lot.” You furrowed your eyebrows, not being able to understand why you hadn’t seen him in person before.

“I usually visit in the evening times, but I have met a few of the other carers who stop by.” You were only one of the carers from the company who stopped by her house daily. Jaemin was incredibly thankful to the people who took care of his grandma when he couldn’t. He had moved out of her house on his own accord just after Jeno was arrested. He knew he was getting too much of a burden on his grandma, coming home late, throwing up on the carpet when he was too drunk and scaring her when he would admit to being high. And for good reason, considering how he was born addicted to heroin. But despite how much shit Jaemin had gone through in his life, he’d promised his grandmother that he’d never consume heroin. He didn’t want his grandma to be stressed over him, so when the opportunity came about to move in with his friends, he snatched it up as soon as he could. A year after moving out, his grandma stopped being able to get around as much as she could before, and the simplest of tasks got too much for her. So Jaemin took it upon him to hire a carer company to come in throughout the day and cook her meals, wash her clothes, and keep her house tidy. He felt bad that he couldn’t do it himself, but with his dodgy job, he either didn’t have the time, or didn’t want anything bad to happen which could be traced back to his grandma’s house. He dealt with a lot of dangerous people in illegal street racing, and he couldn’t risk his grandmother’s life, that’s why his visits were scarce and in the evening times when it was less likely he was being tracked by anyone. “I must say, you’re definitely the beautiful one.” He winked shamelessly, causing your face to flush. You had to stop yourself from letting out a whine at the compliment, not used to being complimented like that by men you’d only just met.

“Thank you.” A smile tugged at your lips, your hands coming to rest on your hot cheeks. Jaemin smirked and bit his bottom lip, his eyes flicking over your face subtly as he checked you out. You felt your phone ding in your pocket, signifying that you had finished your time at that house and had to move onto the next. “Oh, I have to get going. It was nice meeting you.” You jumped up from the table, grabbing your jacket from the coat rack by the front door and slipping it on. Jaemin followed you and dug his hands into his pockets.

“Likewise.” He opened the door for you and motioned for you to go through first. “I should get going anyway.” He had a race tonight and he needed to get himself ready for it, mentally and physically. He locked the door behind you both and walked down the path to his car. You paused, your mouth popping open as you laid eyes on his expensive looking car.

“Woah…is that yours?!” You almost squeaked, your eyes flicking from the Navy-Blue Mustang Shelby GT350, back to Jaemin. He looked very proud, his posture straightening out and a wide smile on his face.

“Yep!”

“Woooow…” You looked over at your own car, it was super cheap, and you were probably the fifth owner of the run-down looking thing. “It a lot nicer than mine.” You laughed awkwardly, getting out your key to unlock the door, you put your key in the hole and jiggled it around, trying desperately to unlock the old piece of crap. The door almost flew open after you’d succeeded in opening it, and Jaemin smiled kindly at you. “Anyway, see ya around Jaemin!” You hopped into your car, not giving him a chance to reply as you started the rickety engine and slowly drove away. Jaemin got in his own car and let out a soft sigh as he thought back on your slightly odd exchange. He didn’t know you, but he knew he wanted to know you. And he had the perfect plan.

---

Jaemin probably should have felt bad that he was only visiting his grandma twice as much as he normally would because he was hoping and praying to run into you again. His grandma had sensed something was up, and he didn’t even have to admit to her, she already knew that he had the hots for you. Many of his attempts of being at her house when you were there were successful, and he’d helped you in your daily tasks of helping around the house until you heard the familiar sound of your phone alerting you that it was time to leave. He hated that sound. You saw Jaemin as a happy, positive soul, who would do anything to make you laugh. It worked, he often had you in absolute stitches with his comical stories about his friends and the pranks they played on each other. He found out a lot about your life, like how you came from a large family, the oldest of four children and you still lived with your parents due to your job not paying a huge amount of money. He was curious to know why you didn’t bother going to university, instead jumping straight into work life. When he’d asked, you’d simply told him that you just couldn’t wait to start your life, not wanting to spend anymore time in education. It was when you expressed your want to get married and have kids within the next ten years that had Jaemin’s head confirming what his heart was thinking. He had a huge crush on you. It was after you’d found out that the numbers written on his neck signified the date of his grandmothers’ birth, that you realised you had a big fat crush on him too. Jaemin always wore long sleeves shirts, or hoodies, so you didn’t know if he had anymore tattoos on his body apart from the neck tattoo and the rose tattoo on the back of his right hand. But you were curious to find out.

With a stomach full of butterflies, a whole month after your first encounter, Jaemin had finally asked you out. So that’s why you found yourself sat opposite the beautiful boy in a café at 1pm on your day off. His hair was now a light pink, and you thought it suited his face and personality perfectly. He had on a long-sleeved white shirt, with black skinny jeans and a leather jacket. It completing his aesthetic off flawlessly. Also you’d gotten to ride in his fancy car, which was exciting in its own, since you’d never been in a car that expensive before. Jaemin sipped at his black coffee, his eyes meeting your own and causing a tender smile to tug at his lips as he continued on with his story.

“And Jiyeon, Renjun’s daughter, threatened to pee on the floor if she didn’t get a cookie. You should have seen Chenle’s face, it was a comedy gold!” He laughed at the memory, picking at the muffin between you both. He had told you about all of his friends, so you were kind of keeping up with the names. He talked about Chenle a lot.

“Did she get the cookie?” You needed to know how the story finished, your eyes sparkling as you found out more and more about the mysterious boy opposite you. So far all you knew was that his grandmother raised him because his mother was a drug abuser, she died recently, and he lived with the boys he saw as brothers, which included the kids and girlfriends of said brothers. He’d also dished out the gossip on Haechan’s current girlfriend being Jeno’s ex-girlfriend, and Jeno now being blind with a baby on the way. Quite the scandal.

“Of course she did! Uncle Nana gave it to her.” He smiled widely and raised his eyebrows. You titled your head in confusion.

“Uncle Nana?” You asked, curiosity in your tone about this mysterious Uncle Nana.

“That’s me, my last name is Na, so I got the nickname Nana when I was growing up. Nana is easier to say than Jaemin when you’re a toddler.” He popped some of the muffin into his mouth and licked his lips.

“Cute!” Your eyebrows raised and you gazed at him with adoration in your eyes.

“You think so?” He winked, loving all the attention you bestowed upon him, even if cute wasn’t really the image he was going for.

“Mhm!” You sipped at your lemonade and gazed out of the window, seeing Jaemin’s car parked where you’d both left it and turning back to Jaemin. “You must have a good job to afford a car that…wow!” You didn’t miss the way Jaemin’s eyes avoided your gaze, leading you to believe there was more to him owning the car than just a normal job.

“I…okay I’m going to be transparent with you.” He sat up in his chair, leaning in closer to you across the table so that he could lower his voice, audible for only you to hear. “I race cars. That’s not my only car, I have a garage with four other cars in it and I race them to earn my living.” He kept his eyes locked with yours, trying to determine your reaction simply from the look in your eyes. Jaemin liked to think he was good at reading people. He’d been doing it his whole life, having experienced plenty of different emotions from people throughout his life. He couldn’t see anything other than question in your eyes as your narrowed them, trying to wrap your head around it.

“Oh!...is it…legal?” You whispered, running your hand up and down your glass, the condensation on the cold glass smearing and forming little droplets of water under the ministrations of your fingertips. He shook his head, an awkward smile marring his beautiful features.

“No, it’s not. If you get caught racing, you get fined. If you get caught racing more than once, you get your vehicle seized and fined. Then its three strikes and you’re out. Prison time is the punishment for getting caught a third time.” His words had your mouth opening in shock, a little gasp leaving your throat.

“Have you ever been caught?” You didn’t really know how to feel about his confession. You hadn’t ever thought about your opinions on illegal street racing, and it wasn’t fair for you to make a quick judgement about something you knew nothing about, despite it being illegal. It wasn’t really any of your business, so you didn’t care too much. The way you saw it, if you didn’t do anything illegal yourself, then you weren’t in the wrong.

“Nope, I have come close, but no, I’m pretty good at outrunning the police.” He smirked, clearly proud of himself as he sipped at his coffee. “If you aren’t comfortable with it, then we haven’t got to talk about it. I can keep it quiet from you, or we could…go our separate ways after I take you home. It’s your decision.” He sounded slightly sad as he spoke the last words, his head lowering slightly to watch your fingers playing with your glass.

“Oh, no! I…er…like you a lot, and I want to see you again, obviously only if you want to!” Your cheeks felt like they were about to burst into flames, your heart suddenly making you aware of its existence in your chest.

“I want to.” His voice was soft, and his hand snaked across the table to detach your hand from your glass. He wound your fingers together and a pink tinge that resembled the pink rose tattoo on the back of his hand flared up on his cheeks.

“Cool!” You blurted out and then used your free hand to face palm, cringing at your random word vomit.

“Very cool.” Jaemin laughed with you, grabbing your hand to pull it away from your face. “I guess we’re both just super cool!” You both visibly cringed at that and sniggered.

---

The next week was a complete rush for you. But a good rush, a rush you wouldn’t change. You had work five days out of seven, and as soon as your shift had finished, Jaemin would pick you up from your house, and whisk you away on a date. So far, you’d eaten in 7 different restaurants and had enjoyed every single minute of your time with your new boyfriend. That’s right, boyfriend. The two of you made it official on date number three after you both realised that you were basically perfect for each other. The night had ended in a sweet kiss and a long cuddle on your doorstep, which your siblings had roasted you for when you’d walked through the door, because obviously they’d been spying on your from the window as soon as they heard the loud purr of Jaemin’s car stop outside. And on your two days off, Jaemin had spent the both of days entertaining you and impressing you with his date spots. One of your favourite moments was when Jaemin had asked you if you trusted him whilst he was driving. You didn’t even hesitate to give him a quick nod and utter ‘yes’. You felt such a rush inside of you when the car speed up so fast that you felt yourself being pushed into your seat. You also felt a rush at how quickly you’d put your trust in a man you had only known for a month, a man who had admitted to doing illegal things. Jaemin had kept glancing at you, his heart blooming with an unfamiliar feeling when he saw the look of pure joy etched on your angelic face as you found elation in his passion. Of course he kept his driving on the safer side in order not to scare you, and even though he was confident in his driving abilities, keeping you safe was his new priority.

Day number 8 of your date streak found you sitting in Jaemin’s bedroom, legs folded underneath you as you sat opposite Jaemin with a glass of wine in your hand, one of his large hoodies covering up your cocktail dress to keep you warm. You’d been to a bar with him hours earlier, and you’d both drank a little bit too much. So his invite for you to join him in his bedroom had quickly been accepted, and there you sat, sipping at your wine as you laughed at a corny joke he’d cracked.

“Jaemiiiin,” You whined endearingly, leaning your forehead on his shoulder and hiccupping. “I want to know more about you, we should play never have I ever!” Your tipsy brain had you thinking that was the best idea ever, and Jaemin seemed to think the same thing, as he jumped at the opportunity, causing you to sit back again and grin at him.

“Okay! Me first.” He cleared his throat and took a quick mouthful of beer. “Okay, never have I ever…tried oysters.” You sniggered at his choice of words, furrowing your eyebrows at him and not raising your glass.

“I haven’t either! Okay, never have I ever…smoked a cigarette.” He rolled his eyes and raised his bottle of beer to his lips, gulping down a mouthful before pausing to rack his brain for things he hadn’t ever done.

“Never have I ever worn high heels!”

“Oh come on that’s not fair!” You squeal but didn’t hesitate to take a big swig of your wine. “Fine, I’m turning the heat up. Never have I ever had sex anywhere other than on a bed.” You were actually taken aback when he made no effort to drink, a smirk growing on his face. “You haven’t?!” You raised your eyebrows, placing your glass of wine on his bedside table and shuffling closer to him on your knees. He shook his head, biting his bottom lip as he placed his hands gently on your hips, guiding you into his lap.

“You’re surprised.” He laughed softly at his observation, his eyes flicking down to your lips before he leaned in and placed a lingering, hot kiss to your parted lips.

“You’re so hot and kind, I just thought you’d be…kind of experienced in that department.” His lips nipped at your own lips, drawing a silkey kiss between you with his tongue coming out to trace the lining on your bottom lip. “Your turn.” You whispered, sitting all of your weight onto his crotch, confident with how he pulled you closer to his own, warm body. He took a deep breath, a deep laugh vibrating from his chest as he kissed down to your jaw, leaving hot kisses on your smooth skin. His next confession had your heart pounding in adoration and your mouth popping open in surprise.

“Never have I ever…had sex.”

---

So this is the start to the end main parts of the series! What are we thinking is going to happen? Let me know! (Please be nice lol) <3

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plumrabbit · 4 years

Text

DA Fandom and moving forward - Calling In vs. Calling Out

Hi everyone,

As a PoC member of the DA fandom, I felt I have been quiet for long enough on the issues that have been presented recently. I am not here to argue against or on behalf of any individual or group, I am only here to present some information that I hope will be helpful moving forward. This is a long post, but it’s my hope that if you read it and want to help contribute to making this place better for everyone, then you will be willing to try to put what is said here into practice.

Since I am a relatively small blog, I wanted to start with a little personal introduction that will segue into the topic at hand. My name is Liz (you can call me Jade too, that’s part of my middle name), and I am a mixed race, “ambiguously brown”, aspec person from Canada. I grew up around mostly other immigrant families, attended predominantly non-white schools that were run by mostly white admins, and completed my degrees at a very white university in a field that does not have much racial diversity. I have experienced racism first-hand many times including, but not limited to, name-calling/slurs, fetishization/exotification, being followed by staff, people second-guessing my name, jokes about hurting/killing people of my race, etc. as well as witnessing racism directed at my friends and peers. I know exactly what it’s like to be exhausted and feel unsafe or othered. There is, however, one thing I need to point out about the multitude of instances of racism I’ve experienced - most of them were caused by ignorance, and not malice. Yes there are absolute assholes out there, but personally I can count those people I’ve encountered on one hand (I am not speaking for everyone, though). The vast majority of racism, bigotry and general harmful acts come from a place of ignorance, particularly on left-leaning tumblr (to clarify, this discussion is centered around well-meaning people and not the actual lost causes). When I say ignorance, I don’t mean a lack of education or intelligence, I mean not being able to see or understand an issue from another person’s perspective. It’s not quite the same as empathy either (where empathy means you are able to feel another person’s emotions), but fighting ignorance does require empathy. It also requires knowledge on the context of the specific situation, and that I believe is the crux of the problem. I think the main reason why this is issue is particularly prevalent in the DA fandom is a result of the too-close-to-reality-to-ignore inspirations that have been confirmed by the devs. Yes, it’s fiction, but there are also a lot of people that see themselves (mis)represented in the themes and characters. And what one person sees as disrespectful, another person may not see at all. This can come full circle, too, for example: one person sees themselves and their trauma represented in a character, another person sees their race misrepresented in the same character. Person 1 uses the character as a comfort character or coping strategy. Person 2 thinks using that character in certain situations is disrespectful. Neither one sees the other’s perspective. This is where intersectionality starts to come into play, and requires empathy and effort to address the intentions and emotions of the other person. Perhaps person 1 is LGBTQ+ and has been traumatized by being as such, and uses Dorian as a character to explore their trauma. Perhaps person 2 is Brown, and racism towards their people is their trigger, and thinks person 1 did not do Brown representation justice in their creative works. Looking at this more specifically, person 1 may have put Dorian in sexual situations. Person 2 feels that the way it was conveyed was fetishist or exotified. Person 2 doesn’t know person 1′s intentions. Person 1 is not aware of certain descriptions that are racist (e.g. using food to describe a PoC’s skin tone). Perhaps person 1 was self-inserting and wanted to feel desirable on their own terms, but this gave person 2 that squick factor. Now person 2 wants to address this issue, and I think this is where a call-in (not a call-out) would be appropriate. Here is a good infographic that compares the two:

(Original source)

Note that there is quite a large difference in the language used. Going back to the above example, person 2 could privately message person 1 asking them why they chose to represent Dorian the way they did, with specific examples, and using call-in language (and I’m going to get back to this in a minute).

The point of this post and infographic isn’t meant to tell marginalized groups how they should be bringing up issues (though it is a good guide if you are concerned about being polite, particularly to a first time offender), it’s intended to demonstrate to people unintentionally participating in harmful behaviour what a call-out vs. call-in looks like. For PoC and other marginalized groups, yes it does take emotional labour to use call-in language and to try to understand someone that wounded you (here is a good read that incorporates the concept of emotional labour for call-ins, and discusses asking yourself if you are ready to do so). For the people who have unintentionally hurt a marginalized individual or group, please understand that someone calling you in is not an attack, it’s a chance to explain why you expressed something the way you did.

That being said, we may have reached another hurdle. What if you call someone in, and the person called in does not want to discuss the fact that they were inserting their personal trauma? I think this is where things start to get a bit messy, but I am of the opinion that if you’ve unintentionally triggered someone else’s trauma through ignorance present in your work, you owe it to them to at the very least mention that you were inserting your trauma, without having to bring up specifics (anyone is allowed to set boundaries). From there, the discussion can be hopefully be opened up to learning from each other, and reaching a consensus. Sometimes that consensus requires the creator to edit or remove their work. As an addendum, if you are a creator that unintentionally hurt someone with your work that didn’t have an ulterior personal motivation, it’s your responsibility to understand why what you did was wrong, apologize, remove the work and do better next time. I know some people cherish their OCs, but you are allowed to change your perspective and make adjustments to your character without erasing them entirely. Now we’ve reached another potential obstacle - what if an offender doesn’t respond to your call-in? First of all, ask yourself, did you actually call them in, or did you attack them? Here is a good opinion piece from a Black professor on this matter. I’d like to clarify that I am not trying to tone police, I am speaking as someone that used to go ham on ignorant people on Facebook and Reddit, and has since changed their tactics and has even gotten through to Trump supporters (some of this stems from my spiritual growth as well, but that is not the point here). There is another issue to address here now as well - what if you have tried, repeatedly, to call someone in and they just don’t change their behaviour? Alright, then it’s probably time to call them out. But again, ask yourself, did you truly try to get through to them? If so, well, at the end of the day, some people are, unfortunately, lost causes. In summary, a call-in is meant to come from a place of wanting to help someone who has seemingly gone astray, because you are worried about their thoughts, feelings, and behaviours towards a marginalized group. You know that if they made a mistake it isn’t them, isn’t their heart, and you want them to be able to understand why what they did hurt others, and give them the chance to correct themselves. It comes from a place of love and acceptance, because you don’t want your friends to harbour negative beliefs. Finally, I want to give a real example of this in action. My cousin is a photographic artist, and was recently called in to discuss the nature of one of her pieces. Her subjects are usually people, and they come from a wide variety of backgrounds. To help support BLM (she does a lot of work to help fight racism in general), she auctioned off one of her pieces. The subject of the piece happened to be a Black woman. She was called in by Black members of her art community to discuss how people bidding on an art piece that featured a person from a marginalized group perpetuated the ogling and monetization of Black people. She gave a response that acknowledged that her piece did perpetuate this issue, because she wanted to raise awareness of this historical harm, and recognized that her intention was ignorant of this perspective. The Black community also acknowledged that the piece itself was not harmful in any way, only that the surrounding issue that they were painfully aware of needed to be brought to light. The auction went ahead, and the piece sold for ~$1000, all of which was donated to BLM. I think as a fandom we should be cognizant of when a work itself is harmful, or when the intention is harmful. Sometimes they overlap, sometimes they don’t. Both are talking points, and we should not be afraid to discuss them, but this requires respect from all parties. We also do need to be able to recognize what is strictly fiction, versus what has real-world impacts. My askbox is always open and my DMs are open to mutuals if you would like anything clarified or expanded upon. Or, if you’d just like to discuss a topic, vent, or have any questions about my own beliefs, you are welcome to reach out. I am happy to discuss anything, as long as there is mutual respect.

#fandom critical #da fandom #da fandom critical #fandom racism #tw: racism #tw: trauma #dragon age #dragon age inquisition #call out culture

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original-socks-creations · 3 years

Text

Day 3: Duel

(Prompt by @oc-growth-and-development )

The pub was not exactly Kaemon’s scene, but Rehks dragged her there with them to get the latest scoop about what had been happening within the city. Neither had been there in a month, and they each wanted to learn what they had missed for themselves.

It had only been ten minutes and…

“Rehks stop singing.” She hissed, pushing her back into her seat.

“Ah c’mon lighten up.” They laughed, “You really think we’ll get caught by just singin’ along?”

“Y’know what-.” There was a glint in Rehks’ eye.

“-don’t…” she whispered to herself, knowing Rehks’ had no desire to listen.

“Let’s take it one step further.”

She got up, pushed her chair near to the ground, and held out her hand.

“Dance with me.” They smirked, challenging Kaemon, daring her to.

“C’mon Kaemon, we won’t get any intel if we don’t even manage to make any friends.” She added under her breath.

By now the majority of the bar had turned their attention to the pair, and deciding that it would give them something to cheer for they began to do just that. The group began to chant a song, and pound their fists on the table or bang their steins against the wood, spilling alcohol all over.

“Fine.” Kaemon growled, half-smiling, unable to help it.

Rehks’ energy was simply contagious.

The two began to dance as the pub cheered, but a pair near the back did not appear amused.

Kaemon spun Rehks’.

The pair whispered to each other.

They grabbed each other’s hands and tapped back and forth, grinning.

One appeared as though they were about to leave but the other stopped them.

Rehks’ dipped Kaemon.

They appeared to be staring, but it was different from the rest of the bar’s occupants.

Kaemon, still mid-dance, noticed.

Her heart dropped, and she stopped smiling.

Rehks frowned, suspicious, “What’s wrong?” She said it just loud enough for Kaemon to hear.

“I-… don’t think this was a good idea.” She replied, “I think we’ve been recognized.”

Kaemon threw her head, as subtle as she was able, towards the pair at the back. Rehks glanced back and met Kaemon’s eyes. Her eyes seem to read “I’m sorry.”

“We should get out of here.” Kaemon whispered.

“What way should we go home?”

“Not sure, but we need to shake these guys.”

“We might just have ta’-….”

Kaemon’s eyes lowered in dread, “I know… I would prefer it if we didn’t have to.”

“Trust me, it’s not exactly my idea of a good time.” The two walked back to the table and gathered their satchels.

“You treat it like a theater production.”

“Ah, shut up.”

The two lifted their hoods and paced outside of the pub, occasionally looking over their shoulders for the guests they knew they’d have. They decided that the best way to lose the presumed bounty hunters was to walk through the synthetic lake on their way home.

The lake was a part of the overall synthetic field project, but was never completed given that there was never enough water to spare on a fake lake. It was a fairly deep hole, now all grasses and small flora. They figured if they went through the lake, they could at least fight the hunters without an audience and could retreat back to the cottage without much hindrance. If it even came to fighting. The lake had a fairly steep hill that was hard to get down and up, but both Kaemon and Rehks were used to the work and figured it would give them an advantage.

As they slid down the hill, not making a sound. They became aware that they had been followed. Their little stunt at the bar was enough to trigger the bounty hunters. Great.

“Kaemon I presume?” The two were calm, and positioned at the top of the hill.

“Ask again and we’ll find out.” She didn’t turn around.

“Gladly.” The other smirked, “I’d turn around now, Kaemon, we’re quite adept at throwing daggers.”

Rehklayask removed her hood, dagger in hand, “Hm. Well so am I!”

She threw the dagger and pinned the taller one’s boot to the hill. They shrieked in pain, Rehks had grazed their foot.

The shorter one took a look at their partner, frowned, and wound up to throw a dagger in return. It grazed Rehks’ hair, lightly knicking her ear. They cursed.

“Hey Kaemon, now’s probably a bad time, but I’m outta daggers.”

“Of course, you are.” She sighed.

“What’re we gonna do?” They dodged another knife.

“Well, what else can we do?” Kaemon masked the light panic in her voice, “We’ll wait it out until they have to face us down here.”

“They better only have five daggers.” They grumbled as the fifth one narrowly missed her shoulder.

Each ducked and dodged, but refused to leave. They wouldn’t let the hunters follow them home. After about what felt like an hour, but was probably only five minutes, they were still dodging. The other who had been pinned to the ground had finally dislodged their foot from the ground and was wincing with pain, but was also throwing daggers.

“Oh, c’mon!” Rehks shouted, “How many could you possibly have?!”

Kaemon pushed them to the ground, narrowly avoiding a knife to the head.

“Hey!” She saw the weapon, “Oh. Thanks.”

“Uh huh.” It appeared as though the hunters were out of ammo, “In coming.”

Kaemon helped them to her feet, and shoved a sword into their hand. Though, it appeared as though both hunters were rather apprehensive about close combat. Maybe they would finally have the upper hand.

The two rushed to meet the pair as they slid down the hill, swords in hand.

“Finally gonna face us, huh?” Rehks taunted, “Grew a spine perhaps?”

The uninjured hunter narrowed their brow, obviously angered, and swung their sword. Rehks dodged.

“You forget how good I’ve gotten at dodging.” They smirked, “Thanks for the practice earlier!”

The injured one collapsed at the bottom of the hill. Kaemon, who was not currently the target (Thank the spirits Rehks was the perfect distraction), helped the hunter to their feet.

“Thank you.” They mumbled, dazed.

“You’re welcome.” Kaemon grimaced.

They looked up, only to see Kaemon bringing the butt of her sword down upon their head. The hunter collapsed again in a heap, out cold.

With one taken care of, Kaemon joined the fight that was raging between Rehks and the other. The clanging of swords was barely heard, Rehks simply continued to dodge and taunt the hunter. They were so angry that they were making silly mistakes.

“Missed again!” They laughed, “This is too easy!”

The sword was swung heavily into the grass, the hunter struggled to pull it out.

“Are you drunk?” They continued to mock, “C’mon give me a challenge!”

Eyes practically red with rage, the bounty hunter ran forward, sword poised over to strike down with all the might they could muster. Rehks didn’t budge, they still grinned happily, knowing that the hunter made one final error: they paid no attention to their surroundings.

CLANG!

The butt of Kaemon’s sword came down in a whir on the hunter’s helmet. They fell to the ground in a heap, defeated.

“Well, that coulda been worse.” Rehks huffed, “Thanks for the save, K.”

“Uh huh.” Kaemon knelt by the hunter, “Wanna help me get these two back to the pub, or are you gonna dodge that too?”

“Ah, quit your complaining , I got it.” They lifted the hunter with ease and began to scale the hill.

Kaemon grabbed the other and hoisted them to the top. They dropped them both in a pile close to the pub entrance. Then, they ran back to the hill and back to the cottage. Nobody followed them this time.

“Thanks for the dance, Rehks.”

“Anytime.”

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asclepius-erebus · 3 years

Text

The Armored Man

Title: Personal Eden (Ongoing)

Chapter 1: The Armored Man

Rating: Mature (17+)

Word Count: 2.0k

TW: Mentions of abuse (physical/verbal)

Flanked by suited guards at all four corners of the private billiards room, you stand nervously at the side of your master; an aging politician, paranoid about not only his perception in the public eye, but also self-preservation in the wake of his long winded history of gambling, trafficking, and despicable ideologies that have even the most corrupt audiences cannot accept. He frequents this particular casino, how fitting, and is notorious for his poor betting skills and overall ineptitude for making any sort of rational monetary agreement. You’ve witnessed his dumbness before, betting all of his credits away simply to serve his enormous ego.

You keep your head low, not allowing yourself even a glimpse at his newest client until it was permitted of you to do so, that was the rule. Instead, you focus on the sparkling silver platter in your hands, covered with an equally as spectacular dish cover, with elaborate embellishments and with enough brilliance for you to make out even the finest details in the reflections of the muraled ceiling. You catch your own reflection in it, your ruby lips coming to a fine line of both despondence and humiliation.

For as long as you’ve endured this job, it never fills you with the pride that your master promised you it would, nor what he shames you into believing.

You’d agreed to the work a few years ago (five… perhaps), where the pay was handsome, living conditions guaranteed to be provided, and with the promise of growth and experience to graduate you into higher ranked and paying jobs. However, you quickly learn this was not the case when standing in a line with many other girls who looked nearly exactly the same as you. But by then, you’d signed the contract, and you were picked out of that line of young women to serve the man you are not allowed to refer by name but simply master and sir. It’s an arrangement you deeply detest, but one you’ve been conditioned to follow out of fear for your own safety, and security.

“Mando!” Your master greets boisterously, “If you don’t mind me calling you that.”

“Ja’Aele Malsifer.” You hear a voice say in polite greeting, filtered by a modulator, the speaker likely wearing a helmet. But even over the digital graininess, their tone felt warm and pleasant. You do not hear them take the empty seat at the other side of the table, Malsifer is surely displeased by the blatant rejection of his gesture of performative kindness.

“Lighten up, will you? It’s just us friends here today. Y’don’t need to be so uptight.” Malsifer continues, popping open the top of a crystal whiskey bottle and serving himself and his guest a drink. There was still no movement to be heard from the guest he refers to as ‘Mando’.

“I don’t remember us ever being friends, Malsifer.” Mando responds, you hear him lean on the back of the upholstered chair, “What do you have for me, otherwise, I’m leaving.”

You understand this to be your cue to set the silver platter down between them at the table, before the sharp quip of Malsifer’s metal cane snaps at your shins and you nearly let the silver platter collapse onto the ground. Luckily you catch it.

“I didn’t tell you to put it down, did I?” He hisses through his teeth, returning his cane at the side of his seat before taking a drink of his whiskey, “Please, Mando, you haven’t touched your drink!”

“I didn’t ask for it.” Mando responds sharply, “I don’t have time, nor the patience. What do you have?”

Malsifer bitterly motions with his glass for you to set the platter down at the center of the table, removing the cover to unveil a handful of tracking fobs, some blinking more erratically than others. At this opportunity, you steal a glance upwards at his guest, Mando, to find him completely decorated in armor made of Beskar.

He looks completely and utterly enormous in his costume; broad shoulders, puffed chest, gnarly buttons and switches across his wrists, and a cape round his neck for what could only be dramatic effect. He is terrifying.

You have experienced your fair share of questionable clients that Malsifer hosted, some as physically repulsing as Hutts, and others more beautiful like Twi’leks, but this armored man (if he even was a man) is clearly a terrifying force, one that earned the Beskar to decorate his armor.

You back away to the side of your master, awaiting any further instruction, and perhaps the opportunity to finally lift your lowered gaze.

“I have a few… enemies, so to speak.” He begins, “Some unfriendly business partners for whom a bounty is worth less than what they owe me.”

“What’s your point?” The armored man asks, “You’d rather have them killed than for them to pay you back?”

You agree to his logic. At this point, you’ve known that Malsifer has exhausted his coffers extensively, and that it’s much easier to clear his debt by killing the ones who owe him and to upcharge anyone or anything that is now required to repay the enormous sums.

“I’m offering you payment for a service.” He replies simply.

“I’m a bounty hunter, not an assassin.” Mando replies just as tersely.

“Exactly!” Malsifer exclaims, “What made you think I won’t compensate you for your troubles?”

“It’s not just me who thinks so.” Mando responds.

Malsifer laughs, swirling his whiskey, “I’m well aware, which is why I’d rather invest in something well worth my money.”

At this point, your eyes perk up at the conversation, sensing that Malsifer’s patience is eating away with every passing moment. Mando does not seem willing to entertain his comments and sarcasm, however, it is how Malsifer determines who is his friend or foe. He is the classical example of someone who requires others to enable his behaviors rather than constructive criticism, no matter how kindly you approach the matter. You’ve felt it across your knees and shins even with the softest, most encouraging, tone of voice.

Mando clears his throat, reaching from some place behind him and keeping his hand there for a moment, “I’ve been given an offer much more expensive than yours…”

“I’ll double the pay!” Malsifer says boldly, his vision set on what Mando holds behind him.

Suddenly, clattering onto the table, is another tracking fob, blinking angrily and rapidly as though the target were right in front of it.

Mando clears his throat, “You.”

Malsifer’s eyes widen in surprise.

The room erupts into the deafening shrieks of red blaster fire as they fly into every corner of the room with deadly precision and accuracy and into Malsifer, before stopping at you.

Your skin erupts into fine little goosebumps, a chill sweeping over you as you barely finish inhaling a breath and drop the silver platter’s cover onto the carpeted ground. The yell you let escape is short lived when you realize that the blaster has taken aim at you, with Mando behind the trigger.

“You. Who are you?” He demands.

Your name quivers from your scared lips, tears blurring your vision altogether as you silently pray to the Maker in an effort to consolidate a good place for you in the afterlife.

“Will you help me take him back to my ship?” Mando asks, his blaster still trained onto you, grip slightly loosened. His voice took on a softer tone, more sympathetic.

Your eyes focus onto him. You didn’t notice his helmet before, too focused on the elaborateness of his other armor to see that the same skill and craftsmanship had been applied to his helmet as well. Sharp angles of the Beskar metal accentuate where sunken cheeks would be, and a thin and impenetrably black visor is the only point of reference for eyes. It looks too much like a storm trooper’s helmet, but judging from the medium of choice, an Imperial manufacturer couldn’t possibly invest so much time, effort, and credits into giving all hundreds and millions of stormtroopers a full set of armor made of Beskar.

“What are you?” You ask, voice shaking, already feeling your makeup melt off your face with every trickling tear.

Mando lowers his blaster irritably, “Will you help me take him back to my ship?”

You decide against any further questioning, knowing that soon, more security will arrive to investigate the situation. For you, it would surely be on sight.

Nodding, he hoists the lifeless body of your master onto his shoulder before slinging his arm over your shoulders to distribute the brunt of the weight more equally. Malsifer’s metal cane topples to the ground.

Mando kicks it up into his hand, briefly investigating it and removing the silver head piece, revealing the small and compact dagger that you’ve seen be used as a letter opener and an interrogation device.

He hands it off to you, “Might come in handy.” He says.

You’re physically repulsed to be holding the instrument of yours and other’s misery in your hands as a ‘handy’ tool to inflict yet even more suffering, as if it weren’t enough. Clearly, the armored man had little consideration for that.

The two of you clamor out another exit, one that led down an empty stairwell and out back into the gardens. The air smelled rich with incoming rainfall and the aromatic flowers that bloom during the later night hours. This would be an enjoyable setting, however, with a dead body slung over your shoulders, your body experienced all ranges of emotions at once, fifty times over.

The sky begins to open up as the two of you race across the mazes and patches of flowers and into the neighboring forest of trees whose dense canopies made it that much darker than the night and two moons could already afford. The leaves, however, did little to shield from the heavy rain that punished you further on the already unfortunate night. The light and flowy dresses that Malsifer had you wear did little to protect you against the cold downpour that transpires over the course of a few minutes. They stick to your arms, legs, and back as you race with the armored man through the forest, the sounds of shouting and alarms blaring behind you.

The armored man slows, stopping upon an open hull to a ship you could not see very well in the dark. He releases you from the weight of your dead master, dragging him up into the darkness of the hull.

“Go!” The armored man shouts at you insistently.

Your eyes dart behind you, the noise of the shouting, the alarms, and the rain overwhelming your already stressed senses. You try to quickly think of a way out of the forest, but you’re helpless without anything to protect you, feed you, and keep you safe against the elements of the landscape you’re not familiar with. The mobs will certainly find you amidst the shrubbery and trees, making you basically dead. You’d be framed for Malsifer’s death, and subsequently be put to death as punishment.

You look back up at the armored man, who continues to haul Malsifer’s body further into the abyss of his dark hull.

“I have no where to go!” You cry up into the hull, hoping that Mando could hear you, “If I stay I’ll be killed!”

The familiar armor returns into view, side stepping one side of his body out of the ship and the other remaining inside, also deliberating something.

“I don’t need anyone else on my ship.” He says dryly, his helmet looking down at you from his height.

You look back in the direction of the casino, the mobs sounding as if they’re closer.

“Please?!” You beg, “You don’t understand, I have no where to go! I have no family, no friends, no money! If they find me here they’ll blame the murder on me, and then they’ll kill me if they don’t do it now!”

The armored man looks into the distance, seeing the same dancing lights as you are of search animals and security officers scouring the area for yours and his scents.

“Fine.” He says, “Get in”.

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