#everything costs something. its about owing and earning. when its me. because its me

[soldier-poet-king]

I think if someone told me I was doing a good job, and I genuinely believed that they meant it, I would simply Pass Out

#the duality of fran #no this doesnt say anything abt me #im a chronically depressed eldest daughter with no self esteem and hypermoral ocd ofc i have a praise kink #gentle touch??? kind words that im capable of belieivng??? in THIS economy??? #oh bother. gotta smack myself into refocusing. duty and obligation and goodness. #its fundamentally not about me!!! #thara says. i follow my calling. and that is what he uses to keep himself going #i just. i wish i knew what my purpose was. to be used up. ultimately. but how. i need specifics. directions #im very stubborn but im very good at taking orders. i can be good i promise #i am not so secretly a child desperate to be good and useful because that is safe and valued and cared for #everything costs something. its about owing and earning. when its me. because its me

[jj-babebank]

Camp Willowdale / JJ Maybank AU / PART 5

Synopsis: Camp Willowdale is buzzing with new campers. It’s Caroline Windsor’s first year as a camp counsellor after attending the camp as a camper for ten years. Little does she know that this year Willowdale Lake is going to be a little different from what she is used to it being… Warnings: future chapters may include curse words, mentions of drugs, mentions of alcohol, mentions of sexual activities, mentions of death. Pairings: JJ Maybank x fem OC Part 1 ; Part 2 ; Part 3 ; Part 4 Masterlist

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Part 5 -

53 days of camp left

The first day at Camp Willowdale was usually pretty straightforward – campers arrive, sign in, move into their designated cabins where they meet their counselors, then all gather in the Wildcat Lodge to get their schedules, maps, badges and compasses. Ever since Pricilla’s daughter left her, she ditched the idea of having a stable with horses at camp (saying it reminded her way too much of Wendy, and also cost a lot of money to maintain), and settled for scavenger hunts in full scout mode in the forest, hence the compasses and badges. Every camper was given a first badge for participation and would get the chance to earn new badges to add to their collection during their nine week stay. Pricilla made sure that there was a badge for literally everything – from successfully starting a fire to throwing out the trash. She liked to do this to make all the campers feel included and special, which on its own sounded like a wonderful thing, however her actual motives were selfish – happy kids meant happy parents, and happy parents meant money. She also liked to turn everything into a competition, so she established a scoring system that nobody but her understood, where she’d award or deduct points from different groups and the group with the most points at the end of the summer will be crowned conquerors of the camp at a made up end-of-summer event Pricilla named the “Camp Will-all-hail banquet”. Caroline always found the name to be extremely tacky, but much like mostly everything that Pricilla put her finger onto, it wasn’t surprising.

JJ and Caroline had gotten assigned to Teens 2. Unsurprisingly, everyone in their group was almost their age, which seemed like somewhat of a recipe for disaster, as Caroline feared that this could result in the teens refusing to follow orders from someone who is basically their age. She was pleasantly surprised to find out that their group of teens was actually quite well-mannered and well-behaved. John B and Sarah’s teens, however, were a whole different story.

“You sure you got T2 and not T1?” panted Sarah after finally sitting down at the counselors table beside Caroline for dinner.

Caroline smirked, “Positive,” she confirmed, not being able to hide her amusement at the sight of an already tired Sarah, “Why’d you ask?”

“Oh, no reason,” said Sarah sarcastically, “Well, besides all the girls, and I’m pretty sure one of the boys, having a massive thing for John B, and them all quite literally being the spawns of Satan, hm… no reason,”

Caroline laughed at Sarah’s words, looking over at the table where her group and Sarah’s were seated at. Two of the T1 girls were giggling while telling a story, while everyone else’s attention was on them. Caroline came to the conclusion that they would be the It Girls at this year’s camp, bossing everyone around. She couldn’t help but laugh at the irony that it was Sarah who got these two as they were literally mini versions of her.

“Heard my name being called,” John B slid onto the bench across the table from the girls. Now that everyone had been sorted, the Wildcat Lodge seating area had been rearranged so that the groups would be sat together according to their ages, and the counselors would be sat together according to their groups. The head staff had their own table at the very foot of the podium, right next to where the food was, conveniently.

JJ was quick to join their group at their respective table, “What’d I miss?”

“Oh, nothing,” Caroline said nonchalantly, “Just Sarah being jealous over her girls liking John B, no biggie,” Sarah kicked her under the table, earning an, “Ow!”

John B’s eyes immediately shot up, that familiar twinkle of excitement swimming through his honey orbs, “Jealous?”

“As if,” barked Sarah, squinting her eyes at him threateningly.

“We’ll see about that, baby cakes,” John B winked, diving into his dinner.

“So,” said JJ, lowering his voice in case any of the neighboring tables were listening, “What’s the plan, guys?”

Caroline shook her head, “I don’t even know where we could start, I mean, the only clue we’ve got so far is that message we had to scrub off the rock this morning before the campers arrived…”

John B thought for a second, “Hey, wasn’t Topper paired up with her?” he said suddenly.

Caroline’s eyes widened in realization, “John B, you’re a genius!” she said, earning a proud smile from the boy, “Last night at the counting, Topper said something about feeling guilty for not offering her his jacket!” the four of them turned to look towards Topper’s table. He was sitting quietly, barely poking at his food, while the rest of his fellow counselors were having an animated conversation around him. Caroline turned back towards her friends, “Chances are he was the one who saw her last!”

“Yeah, and judging by the look of his face, he doesn’t seem too excited about it,” remarked JJ.

“Can you blame him? I’d be pissed if I was paired with Madison, too,” muttered Sarah, scrunching her nose at the leafy salad in her plate.

“Tonight at the bonfire,” said Caroline, “Sarah’s going to offer him some help with his girls, seeing as he’s dealing with all of his kids alone,”

“Hey, why me?” Sarah frowned at the plan.

“Because you’re the one who had a massive crush on him back in the day,” Caroline whispered in Sarah’s ear, resulting in Sarah kicking her under the table again. Caroline bit back a groan as she smiled forcefully, looking at the two boys in front of her, “Okay, well, sounds like we’ve got a plan.”

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

After handing out the songbooks and marshmallows to all of their teens, Caroline, JJ, Sarah and John B took a seat at their designated log next to their groups, which had somehow bonded during dinner and were all laughing together.

“Alright, settle down kids!” Pricilla said, causing everyone’s chatter to die down, “As you have already been informed, it is a Willowdale tradition to perform our very own rendition of Bomfiara every morning and night until the end of camp. The songbooks you’ve been kindly given by your counselors contain the lyrics to all of the camp songs we’re going to be singing this summer, but I’m sure that by the end of it you won’t be needing the books anymore,” Pricilla fake-laughed at her own joke while everyone just started at her blankly, “Okay, well, let’s sing!” she gave the tone and everyone started signing.

“This is so lame,” said one of the girls Caroline proclaimed as “It Girls” earlier that evening, “We’re too old for this BS,”

“You got that right,” mumbled Sarah.

“Oh, come on, I love it, it used to be our favorite tradition!” whined John B.

The two girls squealed and started pinching each other, immediately opening their songbooks and joining in on the singing, making intense eye contact with John B with their best seductive looks. Sarah rolled her eyes at the scene.

“See?” she whispered to Caroline, “This is what I meant!”

Caroline smirked at the blonde girl, “Am I sensing… jealousy?”

Sarah scoffed at the remark, “Pf, yeah right,” she said defensively, “I’m just annoyed that they’re only listening to what he’s saying and we’re supposed to be counselors together.”

Caroline nodded slowly, pretending to be buying the story, “Yeah, sure,” she turned to look at Topper, who regardless of the fact that he was surrounded by his group and fellow counselors, still seemed down, the camp fire illuminating his distant face, “Speaking of together, when do you wanna go talk to Topper?”

Sarah followed Caroline’s gaze towards the boy, “Once this stupid song is over,”

Caroline nodded and both girls turned towards their group again, where the It Girls were still making sexy eyes at John B, who seemed totally clueless to their approach as he was belting the lyrics of the much familiar song out loud, waving JJ’s hands every so often.

Once the song was over and everyone got back to their regular chitchat, Sarah stood up and straightened her shorts and camp sweatshirt as she made her way towards Topper.

“Hey, Top, this seat taken?” she said, referring to the empty spot on the log next to him where Madison was supposed to be sat.

Topper looked at Sarah as if she’d just said a distasteful joke, “Hey, Sarah…” he muttered, “Obviously not,”

“Awesome!” Sarah smiled widely, plopping down next to the boy.

“So,” Topper started awkwardly, “What brings you here?”

“Saw you from across the pit,” she explained directly, “Couldn’t help but notice that you seem lonely,”

“Yeah, well,” Topper looked at her with a look of disapproval once again, “I sort of am,”

Sarah pretended to only just realize what he was talking about, “Riiight… So, about that,” she chirped again, “Last night you said something about a jacket?”

Topper sighed, “Yeah, Madison said she was cold when we were in our cabin and instead of offering her my jacket, I sort of felt… relieved that she was going to leave me for a second to go grab hers. I should’ve known that something was wrong when she was gone for over 10 minutes, instead I just laughed around with Kelce and the boys and then we heard the scream…”

Sarah rolled her eyes, “Oh, please, you’re not blaming yourself for it, are you?”

“I mean, I kinda am,” Topper confessed, “If I wasn’t too caught up in being annoyed that I’d been paired up with her, I’d have just given her my jacket or followed her to your cabin to get hers and none of this would’ve happened,”

Sarah tried putting on her best apologetic smile as she reached for Topper’s hand, taking him by surprise, “Look, Top, I hate Madison just as much as the next person, but I hardly think any of this was your fault. She probably just used the jacket as an excuse to ditch and got excited to see her rookie boyfriend, hence the scream,”

Topper frowned, “Don’t tell me you actually believe all that?”

Sarah shrugged, “I mean, she was a drama queen,”

Topper pulled his hands away from Sarah’s, shaking his head, “Just go, Sarah,”

Sarah looked over towards her friends across the fire pit who were all staring at her in anticipation, as she shrugged her shoulders and mouthed them a, “Sorry, I tried,” making her way back to where they were seated.

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A/N: Camp has finally officially begun and so has the search for truth ~~ As always, let me know what you think, I hope you are enjoying the story so far, I'm super excited to be writing this xxx

tags: @k-k0129 ; @hayleyy-l ; @marvellover04

Part 6 here

#jj x reader #jj x y/n #jj x you #jj imagine #jj mayback x reader #jj obx #jj one shot #jj x oc #jj fanfiction #jj maybank #obx #john booker routledge #john b routledge #john b obx #jiara #john b #sarah obx #sarah cameron #summer camp #mysterybooks #mystery series #rafe cameron #rafe obx #outer banks fic #outer banks x reader #obx2 #outerbanks #jj masterlist #obx masterlist #obx au

[sepublic]

What if King wasn’t important?

           But consider- What if the show was setting us up to believe that King is the Titan, or at least related to it, though all of these little clues; Ranging from the skull to the horns, the claws, etc. What if the show sets us up to believe in a connection, only to reveal that there isn’t one and never will be! As a parallel to Luz thinking she was a Chosen One, King thinks he was a mighty King of Demons when he really wasn’t… Perhaps he’ll have/had an arc similar to Luz in Episode 2, where King sees the similarities between himself and the Titan, possibly pointed out by someone else.

          He’ll buy into it, because it reassures King that he’s always been great or is at least destined to be, and I can see King letting the idea get to his head like in Sense and Insensitivity as he becomes entitled; Low-key a reflection of how people like Boscha or Odalia see themselves as entitled to greatness because of what the Coven System says, about some people just being naturally better than the rest. And this could lead to King becoming toxic like Boscha and Odalia, as he acts like he’s better than everybody else and that they all owe him something… In addition to that feeling that he’s suffered the short end of a stick for a while, so surely the universe owes him something in compensation for this!

          But then King realizes that there is no connection, and it’s broken to him in a harsh and blunt way that causes potential followers or fans to coldly abandon him; With only his true friends staying by his side amidst it all. Kind of like how King thought he was such a great author at first, only to realize he only achieved this with Luz’s help; And without it, Piniet’s respect considerably dwindles, as King is forgotten by Bonesborough when he isn’t able to produce a sequel to Ruler’s Reach. King doesn’t live up to the expectations of grandeur that he and others set himself up for; So people lose interest… Except for those who were always interested in King as who he was, and not as some larger-than-life figure.

           With Luz’s help, King can realize that greatness is something he has to work for. It’s not an inherent destiny/condition of his, and he’s not entitled to anything for having suffered, just as Luz and Eda aren’t. It’d be an interesting and meta twist, and frustrating to King- Because he really wants to believe that he’s more than the cute fluffball that others see and reduce him to. And maybe that’s all he is NOW… But King can be reassured with Luz’s guidance, that he can build off of that, and work to make himself more than this! King can improve himself, just as other characters did… He doesn’t have to accept the hand that life dealt him, he can work to change it as he sees fit!

          Just as characters shouldn’t have to worry about if they have no natural talent nor inlincation for something- If they enjoy it, then they’re valid in pursuing that career and improving their skills. Kind of like how Luz and Amity didn’t start off as the best artists, but through practice and dedication, they really improve and made their hobbies worthwhile to themselves! Or how Luz has every reason to be terrible at magic and abandon the skill as impractical, and focus on what she’s already good at… But she still insists on learning it anyway, because it makes her happy. Luz was bad at magic, thanks to her lack of a bile sac- But she worked to learn magic anyway, and even if it may not be as great as others’, she finds joy in her glyphs and spells, so that’s all that really matters. Luz doesn’t care that she might not be cut out for magic- She’ll make herself be, and/or still find enjoyment anyway.

          And it can connect to Episode 3 and real life in general- With how kids feel pressured to stick to what they’re good at, and are discouraged from some hobbies/passions because they’re dismissed as less practical, and/or those kids aren’t already immediately great at it. It discourages growth by insisting that this is how you’ll always be, or that it’s not worth it to improve yourself; So just stick to what society says, and do the job that pays more money and/or fits you according to this specific test… And stick to your track as the Coven System insists. You’ll never be more than this, or you could but it’s not worth it- So don’t try*.

           King might not be a natural, best-selling author on his own; But with support and constructive criticism from a friend like Luz, his writing can truly improve! Because after all, plenty of authors and writers in real life are amazing, but only after some feedback and criticism- There’s a reason why rough drafts exist, and why people look for feedback before finalizing a work! There’s no shame in needing help… King has always wanted to be recognized on his own terms, by things of his own effort and conviction- And now he has the chance to do that! He can make something from his own work, instead of having it be an intrinsic trait, like his cuteness.

          King can be valued for something he really worked for and made, instead of something that was just given/assigned to him by life… And in the end, is that not lowkey more validating to his kind of character? One might say it’s just a repeat of King’s arc from Sense and Insensitivity- But to me personally, I see it as potentially being a final cap-off to his development across the series. A final application of King’s lessons, to make sure he really did retain what he learned, and isn’t going to just forget about it and listen to whatever sounds most convenient to him! Plus, there’s enough room for it to be its own thing- As having a natural connection to the Titan is definitely more of a ‘Chosen One’ trope than just being already-talented at writing.

-

          *It’s lowkey contradictory to how the Coven System promises witches that with enough effort and hard work, they can achieve greatness and get out of any situation… And I think that’s kind of the point. Only certain witches with the privilege of a support network can try new things without fearing the cost of failure; And so only they can engage in growth, while those who are less well-off never get the chance, because not being immediately talented at things is costly in its own way. Witches are duped into the system under the belief that if they work hard enough, things CAN be better, that it can be all worth it, and that those on the bottom are secretly deserving of their plight, because they just didn’t work hard enough…

          But then said witches are unable to climb the hierarchy due to a lack of privilege anyway. The unprivileged stay where they are because of how the system is structured, but they’re taught to believe in the system anyway in hopes that they can one day ascend it- And if they still haven’t, then it’s actually their fault. Those at the bottom are kept there, to maintain the exclusivity of power to the select few at the top. And even if they CAN play by the system, witches still have to give something up in the process –such as an interest that isn’t immediately useful- while those who are privileged retain everything.

          It forces you to invest effort into playing by the system’s rules, therefore participating in and validating it. You can never get out of it, because either you’re working to maintain your place and defend what you’ve earned, or you’re trying to climb the ladder; Either way, you’re still on the ladder. You’re so distracted from not falling down the ladder, that you never think to get off it entirely, to get rid of that ladder or at least grow beyond it. It’s only up and down, apparently; Always vertical, never horizontal. It’s intentionally limiting… You’ll always be dependent on the system, so just focus on staying there and maybe ascending it.

#the owl house #owl house #the owl house king #the owl house luz #luz noceda #coven system #speculation #theory #meta

[mists-of-hithlum]

TW: Non-graphic character death

They call her marred.

Finduilas has lived her whole life with those words whispered behind her back, gossiped over when she’s out of the room and sometimes even openly discussed when her family isn’t there to protect her. Her father has told her she should just ignore them.

“They just don’t understand how the Valar work,” he tells her. “Just because you haven’t found your partner on these shores yet, doesn’t mean anything about you. Maybe they haven’t been born yet.” He smiles. “Or you are like your aunt Artanis and your partner waits for you on the other shore. And you wouldn’t call her marred, would you?”

He is right, of course. They are all right. It’s not like their family isn’t the subject of too many rumours already. Her father knows exactly how it feels when people whisper about you behind your back.

But somehow, this is different. It is personal. It is against her, not against the circumstances of her birth or who her grandfather chose as his partner. It isn’t like the rumours the bored nobles of Tirion like to circulate about Indis and what she did to earn a place at Finwe’s side or how Arafinwe’s children and grandchildren shouldn’t count as real Noldor. They hurt too, of course, but when they call her, Finduilas, daugther of Artaresto, a flaw in the music, it cuts deeper.

Especially because they are right.

She debates herself over and over if she should ask Fëanaro about the rumours. He is the only other one in the family they single out too. But everytime she is either too afraid of his famous temper or another rumour makes her doubt again. What they say about him is so much worse than what they say to her, so she doesn’t. She shouldn’t trouble him with such trivial things.

When darkness falls over Tirion and flames light up eight swords with their light, Finduilas chooses to go even before her parents have said anything. She feels like she’s suffocating here in Tirion, with the gossip chasing her every step. Marred, seem the stones to whisper. Those blank, white stones without a flaw who mock her even in the pale light of candles and torches. Staying here would be a slow, agonizing death only prolonged by the absence of her family. And maybe, a voice in her head whispers, she’ll finally find her other half on the other shore, like her father told her once.

Not even her mother staying and Arafinwë turning back manage to change her decision.

It doesn’t take long for the rumours to start again.

After that first battle and after Findecano’s daring rescue of Maitimo – Maedhros – the gossips stay quiet about her. There are far more interesting things to discuss. But then comes the Mereth Aderthad.

Her father parades her through the entire feast. She cannot find a better word for it. Of course Finduilas knew he wanted her to find her partner. His absolute conviction that someone is waiting for her and he only needed to find them warms her heart on some days. On others, she wants to scream and smash things. She doesn’t need anybody. No matter what the Valar told them about Eru’s plans, how every elf has someone designated for them, she is whole on her own. But the other elves don’t understand and so she grits her teeth and smiles through a thousand introductions, handshakes and empty words.

Just once she gets a moment to herself. When she leaves her father’s side with the flimsy excuse of wanting something refreshing to drink, she can already hear the rumour mill working again. She snorts. For seemingly immortal beings, the elves are awfully obsessed with every little thing that changes.

“Don’t listen to them.”

It takes her a moment to recover from the unexpected visitor at her quiet little corner.

“Still as observant as always, cousin,” she greets Mai Maedhros and smiles the first real smile since the start of the feast.

Maedhros raises an eyebrow. “You know our family. Being observant is a survival skill here.”

Finduilas laughs and for a moment she can nearly forget about the scars that now mar her favorite cousin’s face and the hand he is missing. It’s like they are back in Valinor, young and carefree, with nothing to fear.

Maedhros’ next words destroy that illusion quite efficiently. “Don’t listen to them. You aren’t marred or tainted by Morgoth, no matter what they say. Believe me, I would know.”

It takes a lot of Finduilas’ self-control to not get up and smash the nearest tent into pieces because she can’t get to Morgoth right now to avenge her cousin. “I’m trying. I know they are wrong, but they just never stop.”

“And they never will,” Maedhros agrees quietly. “But they don’t matter, pitya tuilë. Someone will always gossip about you behind your back. That is the nature of the court. Your conviction is your armour. They don’t get to decide how you live your life.”

Finduilas raises her chin. “They won’t,” she promises.

A flicker of white fire raises its head behind Maedhros’ eyes. “Good,” he says and disappears the next moment back into the guests.

It is the last time she’ll see her cousin alive. Afterward, a part of her is glad she didn’t need to witness his downfall.

“Finduilas! Here you are!”

After Maedhros left, it doesn’t take her father long to find her again.

“I want you to meet somebody.”

Those dreaded words. But as Maedhros told her: Other people’s opinion of her doesn’t matter. It can’t hurt her.”

So she takes her father’s hand and lets herself be led to a handsome young Noldo with eyes grey like stone. The way his eyes never seem to leave her make her want to roll her eyes. Another one to disappoint then.

“This is Gwindor, son of Guilin,” her father introduces him. “He is one of your uncle Finrod’s people. Gwindor, this is my daughter, Finduilas.”

“Descriptions do not do your beauty justice, my princess,” Gwindor greets her. “I am glad to make your acquaintance.”

“Thank you,” Finduilas replies politely instead of a snappy retort.

“In truth, you look like the pools of Ivrin when Arien herself shines on them!”

“It is an honor to meet you, Gwindor,” she answers and the hope in her father’s eyes nearly makes her want to throw up.

Once Gwindor gets over his worship of her – and truly, Finduilas isn0t so beautiful, not compared to her other family members – they get along quite well. She discovers his delightful sense of humour and they have great fun mocking the other members of Findarato’s court behind closed doors. Faelivrin, the name Gwindor gave her on their first meeting, becomes a joke between the two of them.

Her father still hopes she will one day discover that she loved Gwindor all along and Finduilas will have to disappoint him once again. She does love Gwindor. She really does. Just not in the sense her father and everybody else seem to want.

Gwindor is alright with this. It was a long, tearful conversation after Finduilas’ armour finally broke down and she told him everything. He accepts her the way she is and he couldn’t give her anything more. In return, he told her about his partner who died crossing the Helcaraxë and how he wants nothing more than what she’s ready to give him either. They never tell anyone else about those things. Their bond is their own and if others want to assume things, they are free to do so.

And then, the Noldor start to lose.

Aegnor and Angrod die first. Then Celegorm and Curufin come, Finrod gives everything up for a stranger and when the tales from the heroics of Beren and Luthien are sung all over Endor, Nargothrond quietly mourns its king. Her father steps up after his brother, but it is never the same.

When Gwindor leaves with his warriors, Finduilas nearly wants to call him back. She doesn’t. She knows why Gwindor needs to do this. He knows why she can’t be at his side. They don’t owe each other more than the other is ready to give.

They part and he doesn’t return. Finduilas knows he isn’t dead and that makes it worse. Their bond isn’t as strong as a marriage bond, isn’t as solid as one of two people who know their feelings for each other, but it was always there. She feels the pain Gwindor goes through even if he tries to shield her from it and she mourns for the elf he was. Even if through a miracle he gets back, he will never be the same again.

Through it all, only the hope of Gwindor one day returning keeps her going. After everything, the whispers have transformed into sharp-edged things meant to hurt. Her armour is strong, but even an armour can’t protect her from everything. Maedhros’ words have always helped her, but they can’t help her when she blames herself too. Maybe she really is marred. After all, everyone she loves leaves.

The miracle she hoped for goes by the name of Agarwaen and carries himself with the aura of a king.

Finduilas isn’t proud of herself for what she does next. But over the years Gwindor was away, the rumours slowly started to become unbearable and the man is right there. He clearly won’t fall in love with her and even if he somehow will, one day, she won’t have ruined him by pretending to be in love. Humans have more than one option in their lives, her uncle once told her. It still seems strange to her but she won’t complain when she gets such an opportunity.

Her father doesn’t look happy, but at least the rumours stop.

Gwindor doesn’t agree with her, but he understands. After their big argument, when he tells her Turin’s true name, they come to a truce. He still loves her and she still loves him. Their bond once again strenghtens when they decide they don’t need to put a name that doesn’t fit on their relationship. When she (badly) pretends to be in love with the human, Gwindor won’t stand in her way.

And really, she doesn’t truly love him. Maybe that’s enough to shield her from the curse.

Later, that misjudgement will cost her everything. Later, she will die alone and afraid on a hill for something out of her control. Later, the history books will paint her as a tragic figure, torn between two men she fell in love with. Later, the people who once couldn’t stop gossiping about her will forget her, an unimportant figure in a much grander history. Later, she will be remembered as the weak-willed child of a weak-willed father, a princess who died with her kingdom.

The history books won’t mention how she didn’t even get to die beside the one she loved.

When she finds herself in the halls of Mandos, she keeps to herself.

Gwindor’s beloved is here. She’s felt him die before her, so he is here too. Now they have a chance at reuniting. No need to ruin their happiness when they still haven’t found out how they truly feel for each other. Nobody on Arda needs a second Finwe-and-Miriel-and-Indis type of situation. Maybe in a couple of centuries, she’ll go and search for them. Right now, they are better off without her.

Finduilas doesn’t get a couple of centuries. She doesn’t even get a month, if her hazy sense of time in those halls can be trusted.

“Here you are! We had search everywhere for you! You aren’t still mad because I ruined your favorite brush, right?”

Finduilas looks up, disbelieving, straight into Gwindor’s grinning face. “Gwindor, you apologized at least a hundred times, got Tyelpë to make me a custom fit new one and that was more than twenty years ago! You can’t possibly believe I’m still mad at you…”

She trails off when his grin only gets wider. “I knew that would get you to talk,” he proclaims, satisfied. “Now get over here and meet my partner. I’m sure you two will get along great.”

Of course he’s right. Tinwë is a delight and she can see why Gwindor fell in love with him so many years ago. Quick-witted, sharp-tongued but surprisingly gentle and an excellent opponent in a discussion mark him as someone they had dire need of in Nargothrond. They’d have so much fun at court.

And maybe, she slowly likes him too. She doesn’t fall in love, just like it was with Gwindor, but there is something between the two of them that just feels right.

Tinwë is it too who finally gets her agonizing feelings for Gwindor sorted out. “You love him,” he says to her once, out of the blue, when they walk together through the endless passageways of Mandos’ halls. “And he loves you. Anyone who can’t see that is blind.”

“And what do you think about that?” Finduilas’ voice sounds strong but her hands shake.

He surprises her by turning around. “I love you too,” he says simply. “Not like I love Gwindor, but I love you. You make him happy. He makes me happy. You make me happy too.”

Finduilas has to blink a tear out of her eye when he lays a hand on her shoulder.

“He told me about the things people used to say about you. I don’t think you are marred, Finduilas. I think you are just the way you’re supposed to be. How could you be wrong? If you were different, you wouldn’t be yourself anymore.” He laughs and adds: “Certainly far more boring, that’s for sure!”

And then Gwindor comes and embraces all of them and Finduilas thinks, maybe she was right all along. Why would she need anyone when she’s the happiest she’s ever been right here, right in this moment?

And one day, all three of them walk together out of the halls of Mandos. Finduilas takes a deep breath of clean air, grips Gwindor’s and Tinwë’s hands a bit stronger and for the first time in her whole life, she feels whole.

#finduilas #gwindor #The Silmarillion #the silm #oh sorry maedhros shows up as well #turin and his awful luck are here too #and feanor is mentioned #aspec tolkien #i swear i tried to keep this short #it was also supposed to be something very different from what it ended up being #i'm so sorry #but i hope at least somebody will have fun reading it #have an overly long piece that somehow morphed into a character study for finduilas #that was originally only supposed to be short snippet of aromantic!finduilas #well now i have to make even more headcanons about this 'verse i guess

[theladyofdeath]

Rags & Riches {5}

Summary: An A Court of Thorns and Roses Fanfiction. 19th century AU. Based on the prompt sent in by @cat5313 All characters belong to SJM, I am just a fan with a plot.

Warning: Mature content strung throughout.

A/N: Oh snap.

Leave a comment to be tagged & tell me what you think! :)

It had been a week since Cassian had managed to get Nesta back to her room unseen. She had woken with a pounding headache with her dusty shoes removed and placed neatly beside her bed. She had still been in her gown, but she was tucked in snugly.

However, she did notice that she had been missing her bracelet and assumed she had lost it somewhere in her drunken endeavors. She tried not to feel too disappointed, considering who had gifted it to her, but it was her own fault.

Nonetheless, the stableboy had taken care of her, even though Nesta only remembered glimpses of their night out at the tavern. 

Yet, she had purposely been avoiding him at all costs. Not that she went to the stables often.

When carriages were drawn, she waited indoors until it was pulled up front, ready to be loaded. She did not take Marigold for any rides, unless she was one hundred percent certain Edward was in the stables, not Cassian. 

Perhaps it was petty, but she could not face him, not after what she had remembered.

She knew she had drunk far too much, had confessed far too much. She was even certain that, at one point, she had called him handsome. 

She had called the stableboy handsome. 

And he had taken care of her. 

Nesta pushed the thoughts from her mind as she chose an unread book from the master library and trailed through the house.

“Miss Nesta! I have been looking everywhere for you.”

She froze, looking over her shoulder to find Alis trailing after her down the long hallway. “Yes?”

“You have received a letter, my Lady. Also, your father will be leaving this evening, after supper, for his journey north. He wishes you all to have a lovely dinner together in the main dining hall, promptly at six.”

“Thank you,” Nesta said, taking the letter from their maid. 

Alis curtsied. “Good day, Miss.”

“Good day, Alis.”

The moment Alis had disappeared around the corner, Nesta broke the seal and unfolded the letter. It was in that old familiar handwriting, the same handwriting she had seen all too often.

My dearest Nesta,

I hope you do not think too poorly of me. You will always have a piece of my heart, more so than my betrothed could ever have. Could we meet soon? I surely hope so.

T

Nesta was fuming.

He still wanted to meet? After he had led her to believe he would propose, then introduced her to his new fiance? Ha! Absolutely not. Tomas was an even greater fool than she thought to have written her such a thing. 

“You look angrier than usual.”

Nesta’s head jerked up to find her youngest sister leaning against the railing at the end of the hall, overlooking the main entrance. “I didn’t see you there.”

“Of course not,” Feyre said, simply. “You were too busy reading whatever that is in your hand.”

Nesta quickly crumpled up the paper in her hand. “It’s garbage.” 

“Hmmm,” Feyre said, then brushed it aside. “Excited for our big dinner with papa before he heads up north?”

Isaiah Archeron’s trip to the northern territory was his longest business trip of the year. This year, it was crucial, as they were running low on funds. He typically stayed just under a month, leaving the girls alone with Alis. 

Now that they were old enough to raise themselves.

Or something like that.

“I suppose,” Nesta said, Feyre making her way toward her. “I am certain we will be eating a pork roast since it’s papa’s favorite.”

Nesta was not a fan of pork roast.

The two went into the library and sat next to the windows where they could see Elain hovering over her garden. 

“Has she been acting strange lately to you?” Feyre asked.

Nesta took a moment to sort her words. Yes, she had, but Nesta wasn’t going to mention it. “I am not certain she is fond of Lord Lucien.”

“I don’t know why,” Feyre began. “He is handsome and kind. Out of all of us, Elain had always been the most excited to marry. At least, that is how it seemed. And, I thought father had chosen the perfect match for her with Lucien.”

Nesta agreed. “She hasn’t said a word about him. I would have thought she would be bouncing off the walls, already making wedding preparations.”

Feyre chuckled, looking out the window at her sister. “Perhaps she’s just nervous. Once Lucien asks for her hand, her entire life will change.”

Nesta mumbled her agreement, but couldn’t take her eyes away from where Elain sat on her knees, plating her newest seeds to some plant Nesta had never heard of. 

She wore a dress, although it was hiked up to her knees. It was the only time she was unladylike - when Elain was in her garden. Yet, she still made it all look graceful. 

“All I know is out of the three of us, Elain deserves to be happy.”

Nesta looked at her youngest sister and met her eyes, their mother’s eyes, the eyes identical to her own.

And she couldn’t agree more.

~~~~~

Elain loved her garden.

It wasn’t the sunniest of days, but Elain still thought it a great day to plant her chocolate cosmos. She had been waiting for her seeds to be delivered, and once Alis had announced that they’d arrived, she couldn’t wait any longer.

Besides, she loved the peace and quiet being outside in her garden brought. It was just her, and sometimes Alis. Her sisters didn’t find the same appreciation in gardening that she did, which was fine. It was Elain’s thing.

She stood, once her planning was done, and dusted off her hands. She admired the plants that were already sprouting stems above the top layer of dirt and took a deep breath. A few flowers had even begun to bloom, and she found herself awfully proud. 

Her garden allowed her to display her talents. She brought life from seeds, created something from nothing.

Once her hands were clean enough, she pulled the note she kept tucked into her dress pocket. After unfolding it, she looked at the simple signature and couldn’t stop her grin.

El,

I watched you in your garden today. You look cute with dirt smudged against your cheek. In my dreams, we live in the countryside and you have your dream garden. You grow flowers, and vegetables, and I always tell you how amazing you are at it.

Which you are. Incredible.

But you are incredible at everything. Surely you know that.

I miss you.

I love you.

I can’t wait to sneak a kiss goodnight.

A

The note had been pushed beneath her bedroom door in the middle of the night. She awoke at dawn to find it sitting against the wooden floorboards, and found her soul lightening at its words. As expected, they had not seen much of each other since their night together. Their wonderful, amazing night together. Elain had fallen asleep thinking about it every night since. His hands against her skin, the way his breath felt against her neck as he pushed himself inside of her. Every now and then, she caught his eye and blushed, wildly, only earning a small grin in return. 

They had to be careful.

But it was so damn hard. 

She loved him.

And he loved her.

So why couldn’t they be together?

Then there was Lord Lucien.

He had written to her twice within the last week and she had felt obligated to send a reply, although her heart was not in it. She felt guilty, horribly guilty. He was so kind, so deserving of a woman who found him charming and worthy.

It wasn’t that Elain did not find him charming nor worthy, it was just that someone else had already captured her heart. Then again, she knew that she could not marry Azriel. She knew that she was meant to marry Lucien, was supposed to marry Lucien, would be a great match for Lucien. And, more so, Lucien would be a great match for anyone. He was kind, gentle, handsome, wealthy. 

He was everything she was supposed to want.

Everything she was told that she should have wanted.

But everything she wanted was in a man that she would never be able to have.

And at that thought, she slowly folded up the note and put it back in her dress pocket. 

~~~~~

Nesta was right.

Supper’s main course had been pork roast.

The four of them ate in silence, unsure of how to fill it. It was always that way when they chose to eat as a family, which was few and far between since their mother had passed. Yet, Isaac thought it necessary, especially before he left for a period of time.

Three butlers stood against the walls, silent after serving their course, waiting in case one of them needed anything. Two of them, Feyre recognized. The young, dark haired one. Azriel, she believed, was his name. And Anthony, who had been around since Feyre was a little girl.

Then there was a third, who Feyre thought she had seen in the stables. After stirring her mashed potatoes and gravy for the tenth time, she looked to the young man and asked, “Aren’t you the stableboy?”

“Feyre,” Isaac chastised.

The man simply smiled politely and nodded his head. “Yes, Lady Feyre. Oliver was feeling unwell this afternoon, so I offered to take his spot during mealtime, just until he was feeling better.”

“That was kind of you,” Elain smiled.

Feyre and Isaac agreed, although Nesta said nothing, staring at her pork roast.

“Have you heard more from Lord Rhysand?”

It took Feyre a moment to realize that Elain had been speaking to her. She cleared her throat, “Yes. He wrote just yesterday, in fact.”

“Ah,” Isaac smiled, setting down his fork. “And what did he write?”

“That he hopes to visit soon,” Feyre said, “in which I replied that he shouldn’t.”

Isaac stared as Nesta snorted. “Feyre, that is rude. You should write him again, inviting him to call.”

“Why?” Feyre asked, completely forgetting about her food. “He is selfish and wants me as a wife because I am beautiful.”

“Conceited, much?” Nesta mumbled.

Feyre ignored her, continuing to stare at her father. “He has not even asked you for my hand so I owe him nothing.”

“He is a Lord,” Isaac shot back.

“He is insufferable,” Feyre snapped, taking a large bite of potatoes. “And he can kiss my-”

“Feyre,” Isaac scolded. 

“Hand,” Feyre finished, staring at her father. “He can kiss my...hand.”

Nesta snorted, but remained quiet. 

“Well, I talked to Lord Rhysand and thought he was quite lovely,” Elain chimed.

“And what of Lord Lucien?” Feyre beamed. “Have you heard from him?”

Elain’s cheeks turned pink as she hesitated. “Yes. He has written twice since the ball.”

“And?” Nesta asked, as Feyre stuffed her mouth with more mashed potatoes.

“And,” Elain began, glancing toward the butler against the wall before continuing, “he is excited to visit us here again soon.”

“Any mention of a proposal?” Feyre asked, mouth full.

“Feyre, do not talk with food in your mouth,” Isaac scolded. “You know better.”

Elain cleared her throat. “No. Not yet.”

“Shocking,” Nesta said, picking at her food without really eating it. “I would have thought he’d be outside on one knee waiting for you to accept after he charmed you at the ball.”

Elain’s cheeks reddened further, but she said nothing. 

Isaac cleared his throat, having already cleared his plate. “As you girls know, I will be leaving tonight. I should not be gone any longer than four weeks. Although, if I am, it means that business is booming and I cannot leave. In that case, I will write. Edward will be joining me.”

Nesta’s eyes shot to the stableboy, then back to Isaiah. “Well, we wish you luck and look forward to your return, papa.”

Feyre and Elain chimed in their agreements before resuming their meal.

“At what time do you leave?” Nesta asked.

“When we are finished here,” Isaac proclaimed. “Alis will watch over you, of course. However, you are all women now and can look after yourselves, no doubt. I expect you to write often, especially if anything goes amiss.”

Feyre grinned, finishing off her plate. “I assure you, we will be fine.” 

Indeed, they were used to being stuck at the manor. They had not left much during the last few years, since their mother’s passing. 

Isaac smiled and took a look at his three daughters. “I know. I have raised you well.”

Feyre smiled, although she had to admit that her heart wasn’t in it. Everything had been off since their mother died. As she looked at her sisters, she could feel it. They were both hiding something, although she had no idea what. Nor did she care to find out, since she was hiding a secret of her own. She couldn’t wait until her father left so that she could go into town and play cards with the locals. 

Once they were done, they all rose from the table and saw Isaac outside, where Edward was waiting with a packed carriage.

Isaac kissed each of his daughters goodbye before he closed himself inside and was off, nothing more than a shadow being erased by the growing distance. 

~~~~~

“You have a girl, don’t you?”

Azriel froze where he sat atop his bed. “What?”

Cassian nodded to the pen and paper in his lap. “You’re writing to someone often. I assume it’s a woman.”

“Ah,” Azriel chuckled, glancing down at the ‘E’ written on his otherwise blank sheet of paper. “Yes, I suppose so.”

“A fling?” Cassian asked, kicking off his muddy boots and plopping down on his cot. “Or someone you intend to marry?”

Azriel took a moment to think about it before responding to his roommate. “She is the love of my life.”

“Congrats, mate,” Cassian said, wholeheartedly. He had grown to like Azriel within the recent weeks, since they had become roommates in the servant wing. Azriel was quiet, but he was kind and held no judgement. Cassian tried his best to be the same toward him. 

“What about you?” Azriel asked. “Is there a girl for you?”

Cassian chuckled and shook his head. “No. Just my mother and sister back home. I write to them often, although i haven’t heard from them yet this week.”

“Oh?” Asked Azriel. “How old is your sister? Where do they live?”

“An hour’s ride south,” Cassian began. “I grew up in a small village there. My sister just turned seventeen. She has her eye on one of the local farmer’s sons. Although, if you ask me, he’s not worthy of her one bit.”

Azriel chuckled. “No? Why not?”

“I knew the guy, growing up,” Cassian explained. “I know too much about him, if you know what I mean. He’s been with too many women. Loves himself too much.”

“And your sister?”

“Kind,” Cassian explained. “But can take care of herself. Stubborn, just like my mother. Has very strong opinions, which many think women shouldn’t have, but I beg to differ. I grew up in a home full of strong-willed women, and wouldn’t have had it any other way.” 

“What about your dad?” Azriel asked, writing on his sheet of paper as he spoke. 

Cassian took a moment to answer, realizing he and his roommate had never had a truly deep conversation before. “He left when my sister was young. He was a prick, horrible to my mother. I was eight when he left, but I was glad.”

Azriel nodded, but didn’t reply.

Cassian watched as Azriel wrote his letter to his lover. “What about you?”

“What about me?” Azriel laughed, short and quiet.

“Your family?”

Azriel took such a long time to reply that Cassian almost thought he hadn’t heard.

“I was abandoned as a child, adopted by an older couple. Diana and Renald. Diana was kind, but she was terrified of Renald. As was I.” Azriel talked slow, as if finding it difficult to remember. “He was an ass. He instantly knew I was different, knew of where I had…” Azriel paused, as if having trouble finding the words. “Come from. He treated me the worst. Partly because of my background, I assumed, and partly because I was the only other male. He...abused me. Often. And I ran away the moment I could, promising Diana that I would earn enough to get her free of Renald someday. That I am still working on. But I shall get there, soon. Diana writes to me often.”

Cassian cursed. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

Azriel shrugged, not taking his eyes off the letter he was writing. “That’s life.”

Cassian supposed so. Although if that was life, he was certain that life was not fair. He thought to Lady Nesta, when he had escorted her the week before. She had given herself to a man who thought nothing of her, then left her completely alone in their holier than thou circle. Cassian firmly believed that life was not fair, and only they had the power to change such a thing.

“Do you enjoy working here?” Cassian asked.

Azriel took a moment to think. “I would not trade this experience for the world.”

Cassian nodded, remembering his night a week before with the Lady Nesta.

“The Archeron sisters are an interesting trio, aren’t they?”

Cassian swore Azriel tensed, but then his roommate nodded.

“Yes,” Azriel said, quietly, folding his sheet of paper into a neat square. “They are.”

~~~~~

Feyre tugged on her trousers and waistcoat before tucking her long hair into a newsboy hat. The boots in the bottom of the chest at the foot of her bed slipped on easily.

After one last look in the mirror, Feyre stuck her head out of her door to make sure the halls were clear. Once she decided it was safe, she hurried down the hall and down the main stairway. Once she had reached the floor, she tiptoed into the sitting room, toward a side window, where she could slip out and easily reach the ground, knowing to keep it cracked so that she could get back in later.

But she didn’t open it. Just as she was about to, she froze.

Just outside was Elain, hurrying away with a tall, dark haired man, hand in hand.

She was smiling. 

It wasn’t until the man turned to look down at Elain that Feyre recognized him.

Before Feyre could fully process what she was seeing, she was running back up the staircase, straight to her eldest sister’s room.

~~~~~

@throne-of-ashes-and-beauty @mariamuses @a-happybird @amusicalbookworm @manoncrochanblackbeak @alifletcher2012 @candid-confetti @fandoms-everywhere-united @mis-lil-red @littlehoneyybee @abillionlittlepieces @impossiblescissorspeachpaper @awesomelena555 @theoverlyenthusiasticwriter @tswaney17 @jemma-nessian-and-elriel @rhysandsrightknee @gendryaforthemasses @dayanna-hatter @thebluemartini @welcometothespeaknowworldtour @julemmaes @christiashadows @sleeping-and-books @itsme-malin @agnez312 @cat5313 @amren-courtofdreams @chemica @empress-ofbloodshed @islamonna @illyrianbeauty  @sleeping-and-books @queenofxhearts @sleeping-and-books​ @aedionashryver-wolfofthenorth​ @queenofillea1​ @mynewdreamwasyou​ @levivlio​ @hellolenas​ @burritowithfeels​ @that-other-pineapple​ @girl-who-reads-the-books​ @raghad-50725 @musicmaam @rowaelinforeverworld​ @negativenesta​

#acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofas #elriel #nessian #feysand #r&r #tara writes

[luvknow]

priceless | bang chan [1/2]

genre: rich kid!chan x fem!reader feat. rich kid!felix & rick kid!woojin ; friends-to-lovers ; fluff ; angst ; alcohol consumption ; crazy rich asians inspired summary: lucky you, you fall for the rich and powerful bang chan that every woman has their eyes on and he likes you back! but you get a taste of the luxurious life they all live in and you realize that someone like you isn’t meant to be with someone like him. wc: 12.9k a/n: two parts cuz this woulda been like 20k and i’m tired lol enjoy!

PART 2/2

Love at first sight was a horrendous idea. The thought of falling for someone the second your eyes met was absolutely terrifying. Of course this wasn’t exactly how it worked, but it sounded like sorcery, didn’t it? At least to Chan it did. He asked his father one time what it meant to feel so enamored by someone simply from the first encounter and he replied with,

“That’s just Hollywood mumbo-jumbo! Love takes time and it will come naturally, not right at the start. Love is patient. Just look at me - I’m patient with your mother all the time!”

So instead of expecting a spark with every person he met, Chan didn’t bother and let his feelings develop naturally. With every girlfriend he’s ever had, he let his heart take the lead and his mind, body, and soul followed shortly after.

Then he met you. Everything he knew about falling love went out the window. With you, love was not patient, nor was it kind, nor was it anything close to how it should ‘develop naturally’. It was a bullet train that hit Chan without remorse, crumbling every word and memory about what he thought love was supposed to be. It was unforgiving, with you two spending your entire college careers together as he watched you smile whenever you got your food, witnessed the stars in your eyes on your weekend nights together, and took note of the way your brows furrowed cutely when you were focused. The worst was when he had to sit there and listen about the guy you went on a date with or took back to your place. Love was truly unfair, and yes, he wasn’t so innocent on his side either, but how else was he supposed to distract himself from you? Surely partly-meaningless but healthy relationships with other women was much healthier than drowning in alcohol or whatever his inheritance-mooching friends did these days, wasn’t it?

Koi no yokan. It meant something along the lines of the type of feeling when you meet someone and you know that one day, you’ll fall in love with them. It might not be today, it might not be tomorrow, but it was inevitable. Chan hoped that was the kind of feeling you had when you met him. He hoped - he even prayed! - that the day you two met, you looked at him and thought, ‘he’s the type of man I could see myself falling for endlessly one day. Absolutely, positively ardently.’

Even when everyone around him and his ancestors above knew that you two couldn’t possibly be together, he’d find a way. Bang Chan always found a way.

After one thousand four hundred sixty days, multiple meaningless flings, and a couple of diplomas later, Chan continued to wait for that day to come.

four years ago:

You met Chan through your classmate-turned-friend Felix. It all started with some stupid class that was some elective you didn’t care about with a Professor who still believed in assigning partners for projects because college students weren’t capable of doing work on their own. Lo and behold, you were paired up with Felix, who wore an impossible amount of hyped-up designer brands, some of which you haven’t even heard of before. Of course you thought you were stuck with some rich, snobby, stuck-up inheritance-hogging brat who only went to college and majored in business so he could upstage all the other rich kids in his Daddy’s social circle, making him look like he was better than the rest of them for earning his inheritance. Surprisingly, that wasn’t all true. He was definitely trying to be The Top Heir, but he wasn’t a total dick. He was actually pretty nice for someone with a zillion dollars. That was the start of a beautiful and dynamic friendship.

“I can’t believe that’s what you really thought of me!” Felix gasped, clutching his heart at your insult. You tried to shush him from the nosy customers in the coffee shop, but he didn’t care. “You can’t judge a book by its cover, _____.”

“How can I not when you’ve rubbed your worth in my face since day one?” You took his Gucci x SUPREME collab black wallet with the signature GG logo and a Kingsnake painted on it that held four of his very heavy credit cards and shoved it in his face like he did with you and his entire existence.

“Yo, chill! The friction isn’t good for the credit cards!”

“I’m sure you have your emergency billion dollars stashed up in your penthouse suite just in case.”

“Yeah, but I hate carrying cash, so stop it,” he whined, snatching his wallet back. His phone vibrated on the table. “Oh, he’s almost here.”

“Who?”

“One of my friends. He asked to borrow the Versace belt you love so much.”

“You have two dozen Versace belts,” you scoffed. “Which one?”

“The one with the Barocco print.”

“English, Felix, English.”

“The floral one.”

“Oh my God, he wants to borrow that six-hundred dollar color-clashing mess!? Shouldn’t you people with money have some sort of fashion sense?”

“You are so mean. Stereotyping ‘my people’ is not cool, _____. Not cool! And my fashion sense is A-1!” he scolded, poking you harshly with his embossed fountain pen. “Can you at least try to be nice to him when he comes? You’re always so distant when you meet my friends.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Remember when you met Changbin?”

“Changbin told me he wanted to fly me to Paris to wine and dine me and rent a room in the Palace of Versailles like a Diamond-Grade prostitute, of course I try to stay far away from him!”

“But isn’t that the nicest thing a guy has ever told you? Isn’t it tempting to want to say yes? If I were you, I would’ve taken the offer.”

“Not surprised.”

It was then an impossibly handsome guy walked through the door. That had to be him because all of Felix’s friends were hot, but it was hard to tell. He wasn’t wearing anything ostentatious that screamed he was born into money (unlike your buddy Felix) nor did he wear anything that even resembled expensive brands. He wore all black, and though some items were stamped SUPREME, you couldn’t tell or at least recognize any other brands he wore. His fluffy, curly hair, cut jawline, kind eyes, and a warm million-dollar smile let you know he wasn’t like Felix’s other friends at all.

“_____, this is Chan, a family friend of mine. Chan, this is _____, the sole reason I haven’t flunked school yet.”

Chan was raised to judge every person he met by their looks and what they wore - it was an old habit his parents and grandparents embroidered in his brain, like silver thread on fine silk, that he was trying to get rid of since he started college. You wore nothing that indicated you were either from old or new money, nothing that said anything about your family name or bloodline, and no jewelry that looked like you inherited your great-great grandmother’s jewels that were gifted to her by a Prince. You were ordinary - quite possibly one of the only ordinary people he’s met thus far at this school.

Yes, you were nothing special material-wise, but you were pain-painstakingly stunning. How was that possible? Maybe it was your cute nose, or your pink lips, or the adorable way your brow quirked that caught his attention. Your curious eyes met his wide ones, sending his heart up to his throat, stopping him from breathing. It took him a minute to realize you had your hand out, waiting for him to connect. Quickly and awkwardly, he took your hand in his and felt his heart drop back into his chest cavity. But now he was sweating.

The effect you had on him was dangerous.

“Nice to meet you,” you said politely for the sake of Felix’s plea. The boy only nodded silently, trying not to look too affected by your infectious, beautiful smile. Great, another weirdo, you thought. Why were all the rich kids in this school so fucking weird!? Maybe it was your fault for accepting a scholarship to one of the country’s most expensive schools.

“Here’s the belt you requested.” Felix pulled out the belt a unicorn vomited on and handed it to Chan, who had snapped out of his trance. Your disgusted look doesn’t go unnoticed by him and he’s afraid you’re judging his choice in accessories. He wondered what kind of style you liked if you didn’t like this belt because all the upperclassmen born into old money that had girls falling on their knees had this belt. He’d have to ask Felix some other time.

“Thanks, dude. Mom said if I didn’t have Versace to wear at the charity event this weekend that she’d write me out of her will.”

So dramatic, you thought. You didn’t want to listen to boys talk about what pieces of clothing they had that cost more than tuition, so you sat back down and went back to studying.

“You owe me. Don’t get any champagne stains on it. And I better not see any wrinkles or stretches in the leather.”

“Yes, Dad. I can’t believe you let me borrow this. What are you gonna wear then?”

“I don’t know, something vintage probably, but I’ll figure it out. Got a date?”

“That’s requirement number two in order to stay in Mom’s will. I’m bringing Sana. What about you?”

“I’d rather go stag than bring some clingy arm candy to a simple charity fashion show. Unless _____ wants to be my date ~?”

“I’d rather die than be your arm candy,” you snorted.

To your dismay, Felix ruffled your hair playfully. “She hates it when I talk about this stuff. Don’t tell anyone I’m not bringing a date or else I’ll get kicked out, they’ll figure it out once I get there.”

“Gotcha. I’ll see you then.” After their bro handshake, Chan mustered up the courage to say, “It was nice meeting you, _____.”

“Nice meeting you,” you said in a sickly-sweet tone.

He saw right through you - you didn’t like him. He’s not sure why, when you barely talked to him for those two minutes he was there. Was he being too weird when you shook hands? Maybe he was talking too much about the show, since Felix mentioned you hated those kinds of talks, but why? Surely, you had to be used to this kind of stuff, right? Really, it shouldn’t bother him so much to know you didn’t like him already, but that famous Bang Pride coursed through his veins because everyone loved Bang Chan! It didn’t help that even knowing he didn’t need your attention, he was still so intrigued by you. To have those feelings not be reciprocated for the first time, to have you not eyeing him like you wanted him so badly, to you being completely disinterested at the simple mention of a high-class charity event that everyone was attending… It was exciting.

He accepted the challenge. He was going to win you over, whether you liked it or not.

“So what’d you think about Chan? He’s not so bad, right?” Felix asked before snatching up the last madeleine.

“He’s a little weird.”

“Yeah, I don’t know why, though...”

“You mean he’s not a space case all the time?”

“Not at all. If anything, he’s the one with the most confidence and focus out of our group of friends. Usually, people become a space case because of HIS presence, never the other way around. Did you cast a spell on him, or something?”

“I must have if I got one of your cocky millionaire friends to fall silent. I can feel the power in my veins.”

“Hey man, you better not flaunt that big ass head of yours. If word gets out that Chan was like that around a lil ol’ ordinary Olivia like yourself, you could be in big trouble.”

“You never warned me like this when it was Changbin. What makes Chan different?”

“Chan’s wealth has a long history. Like, really long. Almost pre-1800s long. His great-great-great-grandmother was one of the most well-regarded doctors in the country in her time. She was very well-off with the money she made, lived happily on her own, did her duty as a citizen and helped heal the soldiers during some war, and captured the heart of one of the most honored war heroes. Chan’s fortune began with a doctor and a war hero who gave birth to some inventor guy who married a luxury hotel heiress, whose history of wealth even I can’t trace back, and gave birth to the hotel heir that expanded its locations to eighteen different countries who then married the founder of a children’s charity, much to everyone’s surprise, and they gave birth to Chan’s grandmother, the sole heiress to the number one luxury hotel chain in the world. His Mom, who is currently sits at the head of the charity organization, is next in line. Then Chan gets to lead the organization until he inherits the hotels.”

Your brain struggled to wrap around Chan’s pedigree. “So he’s rich just like the rest of you.”

“Yeah, but he’s filthy rich. He’s been the Asia'’s most eligible bachelor under twenty-five twice in a row. What I’m saying is Chan is probably the number one most sought after guy slash son-in-law right now, and if anyone knows he’s taken even the slightest interest in you, they’ll do whatever it takes to make sure you two don’t happen.”

Well, that was terrifying. “God, this sounds like Cinderella on steroids. You better make sure we don’t happen!”

“I refuse to mess with fate, so this is all on you, babe.”

The F in Felix stood for Fake Friend.

Chan couldn’t find anything about you.

Google told him nothing, your social media showed him zilch, hell even his family private investigator only got as far as your great-grandparents owned a restaurant together which your grandfather and then your father happily took over. Really, he should have known from the start when he saw your clothes and lack of jewels that you didn’t come from the same background as him or Felix. This only made you more interesting.

After his thorough research on your social media and accidentally hitting the ‘add friend’ button (to which he shut his laptop and refused to look at the app for at least twenty-four hours out of pure embarrassment), you added him back only a couple hours later and he couldn’t stop the goofy smile growing on his lips. He felt like a little kid with a crush on his classmate! Your pictures were very silly, but you were still so pretty, and your captions were goofy with a touch of your wit peaking through and God, Chan had never been so struck by someone before, let alone by someone whose family history didn’t have their own Wikipedia page.

He needed to get to know you - to pick your brain, figure out your taste, and see that smile again. He needed to.

Poor Felix had to deal with texts like this:

issa banger [11:03 am]: wyd

yung felix [11:05 am]: eating lunch, why?

issa banger [11:06 am]: is _____ with you?

yung felix [11:09 am]: ??????????? no, why??

issa banger [11:09 am]: Read at 11:09 am.

And this:

issa banger [9:23 pm]: is that _____ in your snapchat?

yung felix [9:26 pm]: yeah u creep, we’re studying.

issa banger [9:32 pm]: what a coincidence, me too! i’m coming over.

yung felix [9:55 pm]: oop, she just left.

issa banger [9:47 pm]: ………..…. well i’m already here, so open the door.

And most recently this:

issa banger [2:15 am]: she’z sooiioioo cute felix…………

yung felix [2:17 am]: oh my god can u shut the fuck up.

This was all within one week of meeting you! Felix had to end this. He had never seen such a sad, desperate, puppy-loving side of Chan before, it was disgusting! What happened to the ‘I-don’t-care-about-love-I’ll-just-fuck-around-for-now-because-I’ll-probably-be-arranged-to-be-married-and-have-a-mistress-on-the-side-before-I’m-thirty’ Chan he knew since they were in diapers!? And like, no offense to you, but Chan was like this because of you, of all people, who came from a working-class family. The Bangs were groomed to date and marry only the best, so you two would never work out for even a day if it even got that far. But whatever, if meeting you again was all it took for Chan to stop bothering him, then so be it. You might kill him later for setting this up, but he’ll take the fall - anything to get his filthy rich and lonely friend to stop breathing down his neck.

fungus [5:43 pm]: hey u at the coffee shop?

you [5:57 pm]: yeah why?

fungus [6:01 pm]: i told chan to drop off The Versace Barocco-Print Belt with u if that’s cool

you [6:02 pm]: uuuuuuuuuuuuugggggggggggghhhhhhhhhh fine

fungus [6:05 pm]: thanks bro.

fungus [6:06 pm]: play nice ~ he’s a cool guy.

On cue, the ever-so handsome, front cover of GQ magazine, most eligible bachelor under twenty-five who added you on social media at three in the morning last week walked through the door. Again, he didn’t wear anything that stood out or any brands you didn’t recognize, so he didn’t necessarily look like he had any type of money Felix had informed you the first time, but the way he walked made up for it. Back straight, broad shoulders that swayed, chest out and peaking through the white satin button-up that was buttoned too low, flexed jaw and pursed lips that said ‘move, bitch’, and his expensive dress shoes that clicked and echoed on the floor, drawing the attention of everyone in the cafe. He may not have dressed to stand out, but that didn’t matter because he drew everyone’s attention anyways.

He paid no mind to everyone else because all of his attention was on you. The second he laid eyes on you was when his annoyed expression melted into a mix of something sweet and thankful.

“_____,” he greeted simply in his honey voice. “It’s nice to see you again.”

“Hi,” you said casually. “Likewise. Do you have the world’s ugliest belt with you?”

He chuckled lightheartedly, which sounded more like a cute giggle. “Is it really that ugly?”

“Too avant garde, if you ask me.”

Chan invited himself to a seat next to you. When you didn’t object or look noticeably disgusted by his presence, he took it as a sign that you welcomed his company. One foot through the door. “I’ll have you know it was a hit last weekend.”

“I’m sure anything you wear is a hit, even if it is something so atrocious.”

“It’s called couture.”

“I suppose my taste isn’t as high-class compared to your couture.”

“What is your taste?”

“I don’t think the lack of zeros in my bank account qualify me to answer this question.”

Another silky laugh escaped his curled lips. _____, stop looking there! “You don’t need to have a lot of money to know or have good taste.”

“There’s a whole world of clothing, food, and architecture that I didn’t know about before meeting Felix, so the expanse of my knowledge when it comes to a taste of anything isn’t as vast as those who do have a butt-load of money.”

“Even so, I happen to like your style.”

You did that cute little brow quirk he liked so much. “My t-shirt and jeans? You’re kidding, right?”

“What? I’m wearing a shirt and jeans, too.”

“Your shirt is made from the finest silk China could afford and mine is a mix of cotton and polyester.”

“Close enough. At least our jeans match.” Chan placed the belt free of champagne stains and leather wrinkles on the table. “Here’s your favorite belt of art that’s been passed around our friend group like a blunt.”

“Ooh, I can’t wait to hold something that’s touched nine millionaires’ crotches.”

“I bet,” he teased. “You look busy, so I’ll leave you alone.”

Normally, you’d be more than happy to bid a man farewell, but something came over you. “Actually, I’m not. Are you busy?”

“Me? No, why?”

“I’m kind of hungry. Would you like to join me for dinner?”

Chan had to stop his grin from growing. He couldn’t look too excited, or that would creep you out. And to think he doubted himself about winning you over. You even beat him to asking you out! “I’d love to. I know the perfect place.”

“I’m sure you know this by now from my impeccable style but please choose somewhere affordable.”

“This place is cheap, I promise.”

“Like two dollar signs on Yelp cheap?”

“One.”

“Now you’re talking my language, Mr. Chan.”

He’ll talk all your ‘languages’ - your food language, your money language, your love language - he’ll come to know all of them like the back of his hand.

Despite picking a place to eat for the both of you to enjoy without denting your bank account, Chan ended up paying for both of your meals with his black metal credit card.

“Hey, why’d you do that!?” you whined.

“I never let my friends pay when they’re with me.”

“Well, I’m not one of your money-hungry friends! I have pride and dignity! This means I owe you a meal next time.”

“Ok, it’s a date.”

Chan was making his way towards the door before you could fully process the exchange. A date? Oh God, was tonight’s dinner a date!? No way, right…? Out the door, you saw him chuckle at how confused your face must have looked and he ushered you with his hand to hurry and follow.

Smooth move, Mr. Chan… I’ll let that one slide.

two years ago:

Falling for Chan was effortless. After dinner the night he returned Felix’s belt, spending time together happened so frequently that you didn’t even notice how fast you were falling. You hate to sound cliche, but Chan wasn’t like all the other rich kids within their massive social circle. He didn’t flaunt his worth, he didn’t judge you for your lack thereof, nor was he some dumb ass kid going to school to just party and hook up every other night.

Chan was kind. He’d always put your needs above his, like wanting to pay him back for all the food he’d buy, but that got hard to keep up with real fast. He never wanted you to pay him back in the first place, but if buying him a cup of coffee would make you happy, then so be it. He’d always walk you back to your dingy apartment after dinner or drive you home in his blacked-out Ferarri after studying at the library so late because he worried about you walking alone in the dark. You fell faster on the days you were sick and he’d stop by with the best chicken soup in the city, packets of fragrant teas to chase the Nyquil, and the fancy tissues with vapor rub and soothing lotion. But he must do these kinds of things with all of his friends, because that’s the kind of person he was.

Chan was intelligent. He told you about his childhood spent in private schools with private tutors while playing sports and instruments and learning multiple languages and if he didn’t rank in the top 5% every year, he got his ass handed to him by his mother (fourth year of high school was rough). What amazed you even more was how he retained all of the languages and talent.

“I took five years of Spanish and I can speak at a child’s level,” you pouted. “How the hell do you know seven languages!?”

“Gotta learn the languages of where the hotels are located, y’know?”

“Of course…”

Chan was passionate. Not just about the charity work his family does, not just about the hotel business, but every little thing that interested him sparked a little fire inside. Chan put his mind, body, and soul into all his projects, his work, and everything he ever cared about. When he’s focused and has a goal in mind, he won’t stop until he gets it done and the execution is perfect. You thought it was kind of hot - the way his pupils dilated, the satisfied smirk after completing something, the dangerous little sparkle in his eyes… So hot.

It was the little things that solidified his place in your heart. All the times he tucked your hair behind your ears, when his hand was on the small of your back to guide you, and when his breath tickled your ear when he leaned in close to whisper were all little catalysts to your already-aching heart that beats for him.

What were you to do? You, a simple woman growing up nowhere near his and Felix’s type of lifestyle. You didn’t have diamond-encrusted pacifiers, or ten maids and nannies, or a yacht that you got on your eighteenth birthday. You lived a simple teenage and young adult life that you wouldn’t change for the world, yet you fell for someone who had everything served to him on silver platters and fine china. You thought that there was no way you two could ever work even if he reciprocated your feelings.

But he didn’t see you as the simple woman you saw in the mirror. He saw the extraordinary, goofy, diligent, beautiful you all the time. Your background or financial status didn’t matter to him. The way you smiled at him mattered; the way your hand lingered on his arm a little longer after you hit him for something funny he said mattered; the dreamy look in your eyes that you had whenever you looked at him mattered. Nothing else mattered.

“Why do you always look at me like that?” he asked you one evening while hanging out on his massive penthouse porch.

“Like what?”

“With your wide eyes and that soft little smile that breaks all the boys’ hearts,” he teased. “Did I do something? Am I that sexy?”

“Shut up,” you blushed. “I’m just thinking about how it’s weird being friends with you.”

“Why weird?”

“I don’t know. I’m not used to being around all of this.” Your arms widened to showcase Chan’s apartment that was at least ten times the size of yours.

“Ah, you mean my butt load of money. Even after two years of being The Dynamic Duo?”

“I don’t think I’ll ever get used to it. I just feel out of place, you know? I see the way some of your other friends look at me. It shouldn’t bother me so much, but I can’t help it. I feel like I don’t have the prerequisites to be your friend.”

“Who’s looking at you funny? Is it Bambam? I’ll kick his ass -”

“Stop, don’t kick your friends’ asses.”

“They just haven’t gotten to know the wonderful, thoughtful, dumb ass _____ yet.” Chan pulled you into a tight bro-like hug and ruffled your hair like a little kid to mask his rapidly-beating heart. “Don’t pay attention to them. You should know by now I don’t care about money.”

“But -”

“None of that about you matters to me, ok? Only you matter.”

You learned by now to not be affected by his poetic words, but tonight you fell back into your old habits. Only you mattered to him - that felt good. Feeling defeated by your dumb feelings, but comforted at the same time, you lazily wrapped your arms around Chan’s tiny waist as you lay your head on his shoulder.

“You’re so corny,” you muttered.

He ruffled your hair once more. “Only for you.”

It was then you thought to yourself that maybe this could work. Maybe falling for him wasn’t a mistake and being together wasn’t so far-fetched and being loved was something obtainable. For the first time, you thought having Chan by your side wasn’t as ridiculous as it seemed.

But of course, it wasn’t that simple. Nothing was simple when it came to Bang Chan. It was always out of the ordinary. Extraordinary. The night you realized you and him would never be was the same night you witnessed what life was like when you could drown in your own gold and jewels.

“Singapore?” you repeated to your two Aussie friends incredulously. “You’re going to Singapore just for the weekend?”

“We’re going to Singapore,” Chan corrected.

Felix called you and said to come over immediately because it was an emergency, which was Felix talk for ‘I have a trip in a couple of days and I need you to help me pick out my outfits.’ Really, you never actually helped with the picking process, he just wanted you there to tell him he looked good. So as usual, you sat in one of his oriental-style bright red cushioned chairs that were placed on both ends of the ten-by-ten foot mirror in his massive walk-in closet and Chan stood next to you, wondering how you ever put up with Felix’s outfit changes. Tonight wasn’t the usual packing agenda when they broke the news to you that yes, you were definitely joining them on a weekend trip to Singapore for Choi San’s birthday this weekend.

“I can’t afford that!” you screeched. “I can’t just book a flight and a hotel like this on the spot!”

“Oh, _____, you’re so cute ~” Felix teased, adjusting the collar on his shirt. “Like hell am I going to let us fly like the locals. We’re using my Dad’s private jet and staying in Chan’s private Black and White bungalow, of course. And none of us have to pay a dime.”

“But I don’t even know San like that.”

“You will this weekend. C’mon, it’ll be so much fun! It’s going to be the party of the century! He always throws the most extra parties.” 

“Even if I did want to go, I don’t have the clothes for it. I don’t own anything high-end like you guys. I’ll stick out like a sore thumb.”

“I already got that covered.” With his shirt half-buttoned, Felix ran to the other side of the closet to open a door you had never seen before. Inside of his bedroom, which held a 500 square foot closet, held a smaller 300 square foot closet. A closet within a closet - closet-ception, if you will. You didn’t have to go inside to see all the crystal-embroidered tulle gowns and the silkiest shirts that hung on black velvet hangers. “My older sister keeps her clothes here sometimes so Dad doesn’t see it. Just borrow some of her stuff.”

“I can’t just take her clothes!”

“Actually, she already picked out the ones she thinks would look best on you,” Felix showed you her incoming text messages as proof that one, you definitely had her permission to wear whatever you’d like and two, she thought you looked best in Valentino.

“Ooh, Valentino ~ I agree,” Chan piped in.

“I don’t know…” you hesitated. You could handle Felix and Chan and their riches when it was just the two of them, but to be surrounded by hundreds of people who had the same kinds of bank accounts? And you, floating among them in clothing that wasn’t even yours, faking your way into the social circle? It sounded like a suicide mission.

“You’ll have one of us by your side the whole time, we promise. We want you to meet our friends and show you that not all rich people are assholes like our parents.” Chan stuck out his lower lip and clasped his hands together like a kid begging for some ice cream. “Please come?”

Felix joined in with the begging and now you have two golden retriever puppies begging you to go on what should be a multi-million dollar vacation for the weekend with them, dressed to the nines twenty-four seven. You had to be crazy to not immediately scream yes, but the whole idea of this weekend was just terrifying. But you’d be with Chan, vacationing in a beautiful country, with him by your side. You couldn’t pass this opportunity up.

“Fine,” you sighed in defeat.

“Yes! Ooh, this weekend is going to be so much fun! Hey, we should all match for the party! _____, I know exactly what you should wear -”

Chan snickered at the excited boy pulling out piles and piles of clothes to dress his new life-size doll. You already deeply regretted your decision.

As Felix held up pastel-colored tulles and jewel-toned satins up to your body in front of the ridiculously-sized mirror, Chan couldn’t help but fantasize about the weekend. He already had it all planned out - you would take the front seat in his cherry-red convertible and breathe in the clean Singaporean air with the biggest smile on your face as you all pulled up to his Black and White bungalow, your eyes would widen at the decor, you’d claim the bedroom right next to his, you’d take tons of pictures and capture every moment together, eat the foods he grew up with when he spent his summers here, and then party ‘til the sun rose. You’d look so beautiful in whatever Felix chose, and you’d link arms with him like you two were together. Then you’d dance, drink, and laugh the night away in his arms for hours. Felix would probably stray away to find some poor soul to bother and that’s when it’d be just the two of you. When the party was too much to handle or the alcohol was too strong, he’d walk you home. If you were stumbling over little bumps, he’d pick you up and carry you the whole three blocks distance and you’d be so cute and giggly that he, too, couldn’t help but laugh because the warmth of your blushing cheek pressed against his made his heart ecstatic. Once you arrive home, he’d take you to the backyard and you two would stargaze or watch the sun rise, depending on how late you came home. You’d start out with some space in between. Then he’d get closer. Then he’d brush his hands against yours. Then he’d hold them, fingers laced loosely at first, hoping you’d squeeze back tightly. Finally, he’d confess that after two years of knowing you, he’s fallen for you harder every single day since he met you at the coffee shop. If you felt the same, then perfect, the night would end with a soft kiss. If you didn’t, he’ll run to the pier and sail his yacht all the way back home and claim he was blackout drunk, or something.

Yeah, that sounded like a solid plan. What could go wrong?

It was six in the morning when you were dragged out of bed and thrown into Chan’s Ferrari. Felix’s private jet only had you, him, and Chan as passengers. You thought for something as big as a damn plane that maybe the whole friend group would be tagging along, but apparently they insisted on flying on their own and leaving a larger carbon footprint, but hey you weren’t surprised in the least. That just meant less arguing over what to watch on the eighty-inch flat screen and more champagne for the three of you.

“Holy shit,” you muttered after taking the middle seat in front of the television.

“Pretty cool, huh?” Felix boasted, hopping on the seat to your left. “Have I not introduced you to JASMINE before?”

“I think I’d remember if I’ve been on your private jet before.”

“Ah, maybe I’m remembering the time you went on my yacht, ROSEMARY.”

Chan joined in to your left with a handful of flute glasses filled with bubbly, golden champagne and a single raspberry at the bottom for you and Felix. He raised his glass in celebration. “Cheers to the weekend.”

“It’s six thirty in the morning,” you groaned tiredly.

“It’s five o’clock somewhere.”

“You can’t keep using that excuse, Chan, your liver will fail you one day.”

“A wise man once said YOLO, my dearest _____, so let’s drink to that!”

“Ugh… cheers,” After taking a sip, your face twisted sourly. “Oh, that’s not good…”

“It’s terrible, but it gets the job done.”

“You’re both crazy, I love this stuff,” Felix said, chugging the whole glass. “Forget water, make sure only champagne and 1738 course through my veins for the next two days.”

For the duration of the six hour flight, the three of you watched one horror movie (to which Felix cowered under his fluffy monogrammed blanket) and one romantic comedy (to which Felix cried while holding his Rilakkuma bear). Then after the smoothest plane landing you’ve ever experienced, you finally landed in the beautiful country of Singapore. The skies were so blue, the skyline was gorgeous, hell even the airport was voted the most beautiful airport in the world. A red convertible pulled up to the three of you waiting at the arrivals section and the driver tossed Chan the car keys. As the driver put your luggage in the back of a separate car, Chan opened the passenger seat open for you like a gentleman.

“Your chariot awaits, my darling,” he smiled cheekily. “Her name is Cherie.”

“Do all rich people name their motor vehicles?”

“Of course, it’s only right.”

The crisp afternoon air felt good flowing between your fingers. Chan caught glimpses of your smile and knew then that inviting you to this weekend was the best decision he’s made concerning you. His plan was going swimmingly thus far - now to survive the next couple days.

The Black and White house was quite literally a Black and White house, but it was nothing close to being monotonous. It was a beautiful symmetrical white bungalow with black trimming and a tanned overhanging roof. All of the shutter-style windows were wide open, allowing the same beautiful breeze to pass through the house, wafting the smell of fresh scones and muffins as you walked through the door. The inside of the house got more extravagant with every step you took. The walls were all white (porcelain white, not daisy, of course), the tiles a glossy pearl, every corner filled with the greenest potted plants and too many antique potteries to count, high ceilings with a crystal chandelier dropping in the living room, and a deep mahogany wood door that led to the backyard that overlooked the entire city.

“You vacationed here in the summer!?” you gasped.

“Yup, every year.”

“It’s beautiful!”

“You should see Changbin’s bungalow,” Felix interjected. “He demanded the house to be repainted black instead of the classic white.”

“My childhood summers were spent on my grandparent’s farm. I can’t imagine what it’d be like to wake up every morning to freshly-made scones and fruit jam.”

Chan led you up the stairs to show you the bedrooms. You lost count of how many there were by the time you got to his. His room was enormous, with a king-sized bed right in the middle covered in the fluffiest white covers. He had his guitar and other music-related toys on one wall of the room with a soft yellow neon sign that said ‘CB97’ mounted high on the wall with posters beside it. His room was decorated very Chan-like, and you thought it was quite charming.

“I didn’t like being by my siblings, so I asked to get the one at the very end and the spares were used whenever Felix and the guys came over. Felix’s is across the hall and your’s is the one next door.”

“Ah yes, Chan’s room - where all the magic happened,” Felix teased, jumping on the bed. “I’ve heard way too many stories about the girls you’d take up here -”

“Ah ha ha ~! No need to relive that!” Chan blushed deeply.

“You’re suddenly shy about it now? You sure didn’t have any problem boasting about it every summer.”

“That was so long ago.”

“Please, two years was not that long ago. Didn’t you come her last year, too? God, who knows what happened then.”

Your heart sunk. So he’s taken girls up here before. A lot of girls, according to Felix, and by the way Chan blushed from embarrassment, he wasn’t denying it, either. It wasn’t right for you to feel jealous, you didn’t even know him during those times, unless he had a fling last summer that no one knew about. No, it definitely wasn’t right for you to feel jealous, but the burning in your chest was a little difficult to ignore at one in the afternoon.

“Gross,” you say as light-heartedly as you could. You left sourly without another word to unpack your belongings.

Fuck. Damn Felix and his big ass mouth! You probably thought he was a disgusting playboy now. This was one of several things Chan was afraid of when you were introduced to this side of his life - that his scandalous, rebellious past would come back to haunt him and hit you in the face and you’d be so turned off by it. Well, that’s exactly what happened, not one hour on the island. He couldn’t help that he was a horny teenager back then! Chan chucked one of the embroidered silk pillows at his cowering childhood friend before hastily following you.

You held up a jewel-toned satin piece that Felix chose from his sister’s closet. It was different than the one chosen a couple of nights ago (“_____, I change my mind, wear this one instead.” “Wha - Felix, we’re leaving in ten minutes!” “Just trust me!”), but Chan thought this one suited you much better. The look on your face said you thought otherwise.

“Not a fan of Valentino?” he teased.

“Quite the opposite. I think it’s beautiful, it’s just I don’t think it’ll look beautiful on me.”

“Nonsense. You look beautiful in anything.”

“There’s no need to lie.”

“Who’s lying? You look especially dashing in t-shirt and jeans.”

“My impeccable sense of style,” you giggled. “Is the party tonight really going to be this fancy? Isn’t it just a house party?”

“My dear _____, it’s not just any house party, it’s the house party,” Chan corrected. “San owns the biggest Black and White bungalow in the country. He decks it out to the max with unnecessary decorations, hires Singapore’s multi-Michelin star restaurants to cater, ships in expensive wines and spirits, and hires those exotic dancers that hang from the ceiling. San’s parties make international headlines, and this one’s extra special because it’s his birthday, so yes, fancy is just an understatement.”

“Yeah, I really don’t belong here…”

“Don’t worry about it for now. What we need to worry about is lunch, ‘cuz I’m starving.”

“Hey, I’m gonna be with Jisung and Changbin until the party. I’ll just see you guys there,” Felix waved off casually.

“Guess it’s just you and me.” Chan hoped he didn’t look too glad Felix was gone. “I want to take you to a restaurant I always ate at in the summer.”

“How many dollar signs on Yelp?”

“Not telling ‘cuz I’m paying.”

“Chan, you ass, you said you’d make things even from now on!”

“A man just wants to fly his friend to a whole new country and treat her to his favorite restaurant, is that too much to ask for!?”

You didn’t answer while following a happy-go-lucky, skippy Chan to his red convertible. You’ve never seen him so happy before. He must have missed being on the soil that held his summer-y childhood memories. Being in the hot sticky sun in the house he loved the most with the widest, dimple-iest smile on his cute lips let you know that Chan was at home. Spending every moment with him for the next two days watching his smile grow as he revisited memory lane would make it hard for your heart to stop fluttering.

It was no more than a ten minute drive from his house, but from where you parked, you couldn't spot any restaurants.

"It's a bit of a hole in the wall. I hope you don't mind walking a bit."

"Not at all! The best places to eat are always hidden well."

The surrounding area reminded you of the more crowded and space-efficient parts of home. The buildings were all kind of squished together with tiny alleys in between and there was a ton of foot traffic, but it was probably because it was the weekend. You almost lost track of Chan until he grabbed onto your hand and guided you through the sea of locals.

"It's a little overwhelming if you haven't been here before," he said apologetically. "It's worth the journey, I promise."

"You used to come here a lot over the summer?"

"Almost every day. The woman who runs the place was like another grandmother to me. She is the sweetest thing. Oh, there she is!"

Chan sharply turned the corner of the street and you were taken to a whole other dimension. It reminded you of the beginning scene in Spirited Away when Chihiro and her parents stumbled upon the empty street filled with different tents of food, only this time you couldn't even see past the second tent. Even in the daytime, a place like this seemed so magical that it was no wonder a kid wanted to come here everyday. The different spices and aromas marinated in the air and it was so heavenly, you couldn't wait to get a bite! Somewhere in the middle, the tent that Chan had been dying to go to all year round was right where he left it.

"Auntie!" Chan called from the back of the endless line.

"Eh?" A cute little woman with a floral bandanna and red apron squinted in your direction. The second she saw Chan's handsome face, her grumpy expression smoothed to that of a grandma seeing her grandson grow so much in just a single year. "Channie! You're back for the summer!?"

"Just for the weekend, auntie."

She didn't miss a single beat as she continued to serve her loyal customers. "Ah, you're too busy to visit me everyday now, huh?"

"Sadly, yes," he pouted.

"You want the usual, Channie?"

"Yes, please! Can you make that two?"

"Eh?" Again, the little woman squinted in your direction. Chan had let go of your hand and placed them on your shoulder, indicating that you were his guest of honor this afternoon. A teasing twinkle gleamed in her youthful eyes. "Ah, I see ~"

Chan didn't deny her teasing. He didn't say, 'nah, it's not like that' or say 'she's just a friend'. Instead, he hung his head down embarrassingly, his grin not faltering, neither yours. You wondered what he was thinking.

The line was long, but it moved quickly when Chan was by your side telling you stories of his childhood spent with Felix and his other friends making a ruckus in the streets and buying up all the meat skewers until not a single shop had any left.

"Jeez, growth spurt much?"

"Hey, a man's gotta eat, ok?"

Finally, it was your turn in line, and the Queen of the shop already had two plates full of noodles slathered in a dark, sweet-smelling sauce and two large styrofoam cups.

"Channie never ate anything else besides my kway teow noodles,” Auntie told you. “The first few years of eating it as a little boy, he thought there were no vegetables, so I never told him there were any because it was the only way he'd eat them - covered in my special sauce.”

"No need to relive my unhealthy childhood…" he muttered while you laughed.

"It's fine now, since you've grown up to be so~o handsome!" she pinched his chubby cheek. "Finally, you have yourself a girlfriend. 'Bout time! Even San beat you! But that’s no surprise, the ladies love that bad boy."

"O-Oh, we're not…!" you stuttered nervously, unable to finish your sentence. She really was like an embarrassing auntie…

"We're not together like that," Chan concluded. “She’s just a close friend.”

She scoffed incredulously. "Yeah, for now."

"Auntie!"

She ignored her favorite customer’s whining and turned to you once more. “Watch out for this playboy, he’ll be hard to tie down.”

“So I’ve heard.”

Chan needed to get you out of there before any more of his past was brought up. So much for his stellar, fool-proof plan. He handed Auntie what looked to be a lot of money, but you’re not sure what the conversion is to their dollar. A quick kiss on her cheek and he whisked you away. “Bye, Auntie! Love you!”

“Visit me more often, you stingy brat! And by, sweetheart, it was nice meeting you!” she called out sweetly.

Chan hastily grabbed one of the wooden benches just outside of the long street of vendors. He seemed quite relieved to have left his favorite food stand before Auntie revealed too much of the past summers. Your feelings clashed with a sense of jealousy and a bit of pride that she thought you were his girlfriend. Yet again did you have to remind yourself that no, _____, you cannot be jealous, you dumb ass!

“Sorry about that,” Chan sighed. “She doesn’t have a filter.”

“I like her. She’s very spunky,” you laughed. “Does she do that to all the girls you bring to her?”

“No. Why would you think that?”

“It seems like she’s met a few of them.”

“I’ve told her stories, but I’ve never brought any of them to this place. Now that I think about it, you’re the first girl I’ve brought to her. That’s probably why she thinks we’re serious.”

“Really? Why’s that?” You took your first bite of the savory-sweet noodles. It’s chewy, glutenous gold. “Holy shit.”

“Crazy good, right? Auntie makes them the best. And you’re asking why I never brought anyone else here?” You nodded silently, too preoccupied stuffing your face with Chan’s childhood favorite dish. “This place holds a special part of my childhood. I can’t just bring anyone here.”

“What’s makes it so special?” You took a sip from the styrofoam cup. It’s sugarcane juice!

“When I was a kid, I didn’t come here to bask in the sunlight and play at the beach all day. I’d go to summer school during the day where I was taught math and economics at least two grades ahead of me and attend Mom’s business and charity meetings in the evening. I was always so tired, no matter what time of day it was. One time, I was being so bratty and was crying so much from all the unwanted stress and my parents didn’t like it because I’m supposed to be the Charity Chairman’s perfect son and the perfect heir to the hotel franchise, you know? But I just wanted to be a kid. My family got so mad at me for being selfish that they kicked me out of the house for the night without dinner and I couldn’t come back until the morning.”

“That’s crazy! Where did you sleep!?”

“The pool house behind the main house,” he stated obviously.

“Oh, of course. Silly me.”

He threw his crumpled-up napkin at you before continuing. “That’s when I met Auntie. I was crying and wailing and sobbing like a baby on a Wednesday evening, so it wasn’t busy and no one really saw me. I sat at this very bench with my head down crying until I could fall asleep because I really didn’t want to return home. Then I felt someone nudge me awake. It was Auntie, and she gave me a bowl of curry with some paratha and I thought, ‘an old lady wouldn’t try to poison me, right?’ So I inhaled that whole bowl and chugged all of the chocolate Milo. I tried paying her with all the cash I had because I was so thankful, and she couldn’t believe a young kid like me had so much in the first place, but she never took it. I came every week to order from her and she remembered me every time. I tried everything on the menu by my tenth visit, and the kway teow is my favorite. I’d come here after a rough day with my parents, after I failed an exam, after I cried over some girl I had a crush on, after I found out my Dad had a mistress, you name it. Sometimes I came for no reason at all - I just didn’t want to be home.”

A shaky sigh escaped Chan’s lips. His eyes were glossy and it broke your heart to see Chan on the brink of tears, but he’s smiling. His upbringing was rough, but he’s smiling because he wouldn’t have survived his childhood without the spunky woman behind the food stand in the middle of the street. You dared to reach across the table and hold his hand, hoping he’d find some comfort in your touch. He does, and you know so by the way he squeeze it back so tightly. There were no more tears in his eyes.

“This place was my secret hideout for a good chunk of my life. I can’t just bring anyone here.” Chan began to trace little circles on the back of your hand.

“What am I if I’m not just anyone?”

“Special,” he replied. “To me, you’re special.”

The air was filled with your cute giggles and you took your hand back to cover your blushing, glowing face. Chan always had a way with words. “You’re a cornball!”

“I’ll have you know that the ladies love cornballs!”

“Not this one.”

“Oh, hold still, you got a little of the dark sauce on your cheek.” Chan leaned over the table with a napkin in his hand as you sat still. The very last second, he drops the napkin, scooped up a hefty dollop on his finger, and smeared it on your cheek.

“EW!”

“That’s what you get!”

Your special man began running to the car with you on his tail laughing like two young lovers on their honeymoon. Both of you failed to see someone taking pictures as they sent them to San’s entire guest list.

“Bro, you look hot.”

You jumped at Felix’s comment and chuck a pillow at his almost-shirtless torso. He had a weird habit of not buttoning up his shirts until the last minute. One of his many idiosyncrasies. 

“Chill, that’s a compliment! Didn’t I pick out a hot Valentino piece? Chef kiss, m’lady.”

“You’re so gross… But you do have taste, so thank you. You really didn’t have to ask your sister to let me borrow this, though. I still feel terrible.”

“Shut up, you’re fine. She’s never going to wear that, I promise you. Besides, I can’t have someone not wearing designer stand next to me, that’d be blasphemous.”

“Can you please button up your shirt?”

“Why? These Hawaiian Sweet Rolls too much for you to handle?” he teased, flexing his six-pack. You dry heaved dramatically.

“You two are like siblings, it’s so funny - whoa,” Chan stopped mid-sentence, completely stunned by your presence. Of course he’d love how you looked if you wore a hoodie and jeans because he never even imagined you wearing something like this, but you blew him away.

“Good whoa or bad whoa?” you panicked.

“Definitely a good whoa… U-Uh, I mean, yeah. Yes.”

“Thank you,” you grinned. You eyed the man in the black and gold polka-dotted Muslin Yves Saint Laurent button up (buttoned too low, as usual) tucked loosely in Yves Saint Laurent cuffed trousers. Certainly, Chan was bound to be the center of attention at one point, regardless of whose birthday it was. Felix sported Louis tonight and you thought to yourself that you three were quite a sexy trio. “You two don’t look too bad yourselves.”

“Straight from the runway,” Felix boasted.

“Straight from my closet,” Chan shrugged.

“Can we get drunk before I cry about how much money I don’t have?”

Chan’s driver sported a white Rolls Royce to take you all there, despite it being only three blocks away (Felix was more than happy because he didn’t want to scuff his shoes). You thought you were fashionably late, but it turns out San was just showing off his cars and leaving them parked on the circular driveway. The size of his house made the cars look so, so tiny, but his house was truly enormous, way bigger than Chan’s. Couples among couples began to file in the house, making you feel nervous and very, very single.

“Do people usually bring a date to these parties?” you asked the boys.

“Yeah, for clout. Two shots later and suddenly everyone’s up for grabs,” Felix explained, walking up the driveway without waiting. “I’ll see y’all back at home. Or not. Don’t wait up for me ~”

When Chan saw that what Felix said didn’t lessen your nerves one bit, he held his arm out for you. “Wanna be my date for tonight?”

“You won’t ditch me after two shots?”

“Two, no. Five, maybe.”

How could you deny his dimpled grin? You couldn’t, so you slipped your arm through and walked into San’s palace. You were taken to a whole new world; a whole new dimension of luxury and riches that you only tapped into upon landing here. There was indeed dancers twirling on ribbons from the ceilings, loud music from some famous DJ that headlined at EDC, and liquor of every shade of gold in crystal glasses. Everything was so magnificent and expensive, it was like you couldn’t even afford to look at anything or even anyone. Everyone who was anyone was here, and you recognized a lot of their faces from Chan and Felix’s social media. You couldn’t even pronounce the brands they were wearing! Again, Chan sensed your anxiousness, something he was so unbelievably good at, and slipped his arm down so that he could grab on to your hand. He figured if you were able to let all his past worries go away by just holding his hand across the table that he could do the same, only this time he was by your side like he always wanted to be. You always predicted that his hand would fit so nicely in yours.

“CHAN! MI AMIGO!” San screamed into the mic from the dance floor. “Everyone, the sexiest bachelor of the hour has arrived!”

“Oh, boy,” he sighed.

He was surprised to hear you giggle at his friend’s nickname. “Looks like we came a little late.”

San stumbled in front of you before falling into your arms for a tight hug. You weren’t used to such an affectionate San - you shared multiple classes with him and you’re surprised he even remembered you, if you were being honest.

“Happy birthday, San,” you struggled to say as you held the boy up.

“Hi, _____! Thank you! I’m so glad you’re here!” San’s foxy eyes widened at the sight of his questioning friend. “Chan! I missed you!”

“Miss you, too, buddy,” he chuckled, hugging the sloppy man. “Happy birthday, bro. Making Mina work hard, I see.”

“Why, do you see her!? Don’t tell her you saw me!” And that was the last time you saw San.

Chan shook his head at his childhood friend. Then he took your hand and lead you deeper into the party. “Let’s go find people we actually know.”

As you slipped between the crowd, you felt eyes staring. A bunch of eyes, actually. A lot of them. The owners were mostly girls, ones you recognized, and that’s when you knew it was because of Chan, the bachelor of the century. They eyed you maliciously, switching between judging you from what you were wearing and your hold onto Chan’s hand. Where was that handsome waiter with a tray full of shots? You needed that right about now.

On cue, Chan handed you liquid gold. “Cheers to a fun night.”

“Right… Cheers.” Bottoms up! Oh God, that burned! But the warm finish was quite nice. “More, please.”

“Jeez, what for? You trying to leave me after two shots already?” he teased.

“No, I’m just trying to blind myself from all those… eyes…”

“Huh?” Chan caught a glimpse of what you meant when he caught the eyes of familiar flings and old friends. His jaw clenched. “Don’t worry about them, ok?”

“I’m trying, but you’re holding me back if I can’t take at least one more shot.” Reluctantly, your handsome date gave you what you wanted and he followed suit. “Bottoms up!”

Bottoms up indeed, several times too many, if Chan thought so himself. But you were loosening up and not worrying about another thing he feared about this trip - that you would meet his exes, or worse, they would do something to hurt you because that’s just what girls with tons of money do. He soon forgot about all his worries when you dragged him on the dance floor and had your body pressed up against his. You were so goofy and cute when you were drunk just by itself, singing to all the songs and taking silly selfies, but when you were dancing? He could hardly keep his hands off of you.

Chan pulled away and you pouted, not wanting the warmth of his body to leave even for one second, but he told you he had to go to the bathroom and that he’d be right back, so don’t you move! But your intoxicated self didn’t listen and you found yourself wandering to the backyard where Hyunjin, Woojin, and a bunch of people you were familiar with gathered around the open-pit fire and having a little party themselves.

“Did _____ get her Rich Bitch ID?” Hyunjin teased, looking at the label of your dress. “Shit, I guess she has.”

“It’s Felix’s sister’s, so no, it’s just a fake ID to last me the night.”

Woojin swung his arm around you boyishly. “You’re always welcome to OUR Rich Bitch club. No cover for girls,” he winked.

“How generous of you.”

Chan didn’t take long in the bathroom. He made sure to come back to you as quickly as possible to pick up where you left off, but after a couple of minutes searching the crowd, he couldn’t find you. He’s not surprised you wandered off somewhere, he just wished you sent him a text, or something. He felt a tap on his shoulder, thinking it was you, but it ended up being Sana, his old fling.

“Channie!” she squealed happily, throwing her arms around his neck. “I missed you ~!”

“Hey, I missed you, too,” he hugged back awkwardly. “Long time no see.”

“I’m glad the feeling’s mutual. Whatcha doing?”

“I’m just looking for someone…” he said, continuing to scan the crowd like she wasn’t there. He shouldn’t have drank so much…

“You mean _____?”

How did she know your name? Not important. “Oh, yeah. Have you seen her?”

“She’s outside with Woojin.”

“With Woojin…?”

“Yup! Take a look.”

Sana took Chan by the hand and lead him to the back door. His tunnel vision, though quite blurry, found you with your back facing the door and Woojin, his childhood rival, to your right, where he had his arm around your shoulder. Oh, he was such a Kim! He always snatched whatever was his when he wasn’t looking, just like that modelling contract! Normally, Chan would be the bigger person and not care, but this was you, someone so important to him. He couldn’t let this go that easily. There’s this uncharacteristic rage and jealousy that built up in his chest, making his heart hurt with every beat. You weren’t even doing anything, but seeing you in someone else’s arms just as he left for the damn bathroom? After trying to make you his for so long? It hurt. It really, really hurt...

Sana took the opportunity to pull him away from you. “Hey, let’s dance. Like we used to.”

Without hesitating, Chan took the lead and went to the dance floor.

Time passed like it meant nothing while you caught up with some good friends, but sobriety was kicking in at three in the morning and you wondered how long Chan needed to go to the bathroom.

“I’m going to find my damn date,” you waved off to them.

Even at three in the morning, the house was still as crowded as ever, bumping music like the sun wasn’t going to rise in a couple of hours. You searched every room, every face on the dance floor, near every waiter that had a platter of liquor on it, and he was nowhere to be seen! Even the rooms that held couples making out (and then some) luckily didn’t have him in it, but where could he be? You ended up in the front yard last, perhaps he was looking at San’s cars, or something.

But that wasn’t where you saw him. At the end of the driveway, where it met the main street, you saw Chan walking some girl dressed in diamonds and crystals on the way back to the house.

That was the moment you knew you and Chan could never be. Even when he was with you for ninety percent of the night, he chose someone else. He was made to live his life in luxury, and that meant his love life was meant for luxury, too. No matter what you did, no matter how much you thought he liked you, how much you thought you were special to him, you could never live up to any of these other women at this party. You were nothing compared to them because you had nothing. You should have known better than to think otherwise.

“Hey,” you heard someone behind you. It was the ever-so handsome and dashing Woojin. Even in the dead of night, he looked so handsome. “Did you find Chan?”

“Um…” your voice was shaking. “Yeah, I think I saw him go home.”

From the tears in your eyes, Woojin assumed he didn’t go home alone. Typical heart-breaker Chan, always leaving girls behind to cry over him. Things never change. “Do you want me to walk you back?”

You nodded slowly. “Yeah, that’d be nice.”

You and Woojin walked the three blocks in silence. There was a considerable amount of space in between as Woojin figured you didn’t want any man to be near you at the moment. Of course he understood - he’s had a fair share of his heart-breaking days. Those days were now over because he was getting tired of this lifestyle. His liver didn’t function like when he was younger and he craved something deeper than just one night stands. God, he sounded like a total douche.

The walk up Chan’s porch made you nervous and made Woojin nostalgic. He remembered coming here everyday after summer school when he was a kid. He kind of missed it here. Woojin was about to knock on the door but stopped when he realized you weren’t beside him. You stood by step, not wanting to go any further.

“Everything ok?” Woojin asked.

“Yeah… No. Not really. I don’t want to go to bed.”

“Why not?”

“Our rooms are next to each other and I don’t know how thin the walls are.”

Woojin didn’t laugh nor try to convince you otherwise. Instead, he walked up to you and stopped so close that you could smell his Gucci The Voice of the Snake cologne. Then, he smiled sweetly, a trait of his that you always thought was so cute, and sat on the stairs.

He patted the seat next to him. “I’ll keep you company.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I don’t want to go home and I really don’t want to go back to the party.” His bottom lip pouted. “Please let me keep you company.”

You could use the distraction. “Even without trying, rich people get whatever they want.”

“Hey, we’re not all bad!”

“That’s what they all say,” you slurred, remembering that’s exactly what Chan said earlier.

“Yeah, you’re right. We’re pretty bad.”

“Maybe I should stop hanging around you guys and start hanging around my people.”

“But I like hanging out with you.”

“You know, before I met Felix and Chan and all your little yacht club friends who make fun of me for the clothes I wear -”

“Hey, that’s just Hyunjin, don’t lump us together like that! I like you no matter what you’re wearing.”

“- my life was so much simpler! I lived a simple life without luxury, I ate foods without truffles and caviar, I drank cheap soju like a regular poor delinquent instead of champagne and top-shelf liquor, and I didn’t like boys whose yearly income were worth ten times as much as I’d make in ten years!” You cried out to the skies above and buried your face in your hands. “Biggie was right… Mo Money Mo Problems…”

“There there…” Woojin comforted awkwardly.

“Woojin, can you be honest with me for a sec? Coming from a sad, average girl seeking advice from a rich bitch like yourself?”

“Of course.”

“Was I stupid to think I was anything special to Chan?”

Again, the handsome man beside you wrapped his arm around your shoulder like a good friend. Woojin was always a good friend to you. Outside of Felix and Chan, he was the only other man who was kind, despite you not being like the rest of his social circle.

“You said I can be honest, right?” he asked nervously.

“Oh my God, I’m an idiot.”

“Hey, that’s not what I was going to say. I was thinking naive was more of an appropriate word choice.”

“I’m so dumb, I might as well drop out.”

Woojin’s grip around you tightened. “Stop, don’t say that. You’re the smartest person I know, did you know that? Remember when you tutored all of us that one time? If you can tutor nine idiots in one session and we all somehow passed the class, you’re not an idiot.”

“Being book smart and Rich Boy smart are on two totally different levels of intelligence! Why am I so dumb in the latter!?”

“You aren’t. We’re the dumb ones. We let amazing people slip through our fingers because somehow this lifestyle sucks us back in. Some of us are able to overcome it, but most succumb to it.”

“... You’re right, you guys are the dumb ones.”

You and Woojin sat on Chan’s summer Black and White bungalow for hours, talking about the most useless things until the sun rose above the horizon and the light was almost blinding. It started out crying about how boys were stupid and ended with laughing until you couldn’t breathe from the stories he told you about his old flings.

“She said the mitochondria was the trap house of the cell,” Woojin tisked.

“She must have been kidding.”

“I can assure you she was not.”

“Wow,” you giggled. “You’ve dated a lot of… exciting people.”

“I wouldn’t say exciting…”

“Come to think of it, I can’t remember the last time I heard about some poor girl coming out of your place from Felix. He likes to whine about how lucky you are. Has Woojin lost his touch?”

“I will never lose my touch, don’t get that twisted,” he warned. “Maybe I’m tired of hook-ups. Maybe I’m trying to settle down.”

“Ha! Good one!”

“No, really!”

“Yeah, ok ~”

“Let me prove it. Let’s go on a date.”

Your laugh got caught in your throat. You’re stunned silent, looking at the man beside you like he was delusional. He had to be talking nonsense - it was six in the morning and neither of you had any sleep or anything to eat for several hours, he’s just talking crazy, right!? But the slight smirk on his lips told you that no, he wasn’t joking. He was enjoying that you were probably thinking about it right at this moment - what it’d be like to go on a date with Mr. Kim Woojin. He’s not wrong.

The front door to Chan’s house opened and startled you to death, but you’re so, so thankful that the girl Chan took home stumbled in between you two and you could avoid Woojin’s proclamation for a little longer. Both of you turned to see Chan in his pajamas bottoms and no shirt standing in the doorway, hair disheveled with droopy eyes, looking like he didn’t get any sleep at all.

Woojin helped you to your feet before greeting his old friend. “Good morning, Chan.”

The sleepy boy’s jaw tightened. Why did he look so triumphant? If you two were here the whole night, it’s not like you two did anything… right?

“Hey,” he greeted shortly. 

Woojin turned to you. “Think about it. I’ll see you later?”

You nodded silently, still too stunned to move. Then, taking advantage of your frozen form, Woojin swooped in for a quick kiss on the cheek.

Oh shit, this man was serious.

You’re completely sober and you really wished you weren’t because now you were going to reflect on everything that happened yesterday, from the time you landed until just this very second. On top of that, you were probably going to have to deal with Chan’s grumpy ass right now because when you walked right past him to the kitchen to chug a whole bottle of water, he followed right on your tail.

“How was last night?” he asked bitterly.

“Not as good as yours apparently,” you replied, trying to stay light-hearted and calm. Don’t get jealous, _____. You don’t have a right to.

“Nothing happened.”

“Oh?”

“She was puking all night. I barely had any sleep while taking care of her.”

“Did you bring her here just so she can puke in the comfort of your home, or was that just an inconvenient coincidence?” The words made you sound jealous, but you were genuinely curious. He claimed that nothing happened as if he knew you’d care if something did. Well, you didn’t!... you said, lying to yourself.

Chan stayed quiet. That was more than enough to answer your question.

“I’m tired,” you mumbled. “I’m going to bed.”

Chan wouldn’t let you. “What were you and Woojin doing?”

“Uh, talking?”

“On my porch?”

“Yeah? You left me at the party and I was all alone! So he was nice enough to walk me back here. I didn’t want to go inside to my room because God knows what you and her were doing there -”

“Nothing happened,” he repeated.

“Yeah, now I know. But if she wasn’t puking, who knows what would have happened, and guess what, I didn’t want to hear that or deal with it or even think about it, so we sat on your porch for hours until you opened the door.”

“You were the one who left me first. I thought you and I were having a great time! I was having so much fun with you and I wanted you back in my arms as soon as possible, but then I saw you in his. Do you know how much that hurt? I have liked you since the day you took my breath away when we first met, and I thought I could finally tell you that when you were back in my arms. But then I saw you in his and panicked. I swear to you, nothing happened with me and Sana. Nothing was going to happen, not when all I could think about was what you could possibly be doing with him. I thought you left me for him, and I got scared. I’m an idiot. I’m so sorry, ok? Can we talk about this over breakfast?”

That was what Chan wanted to say. But he’s tired, and he’s hurt, and the tears in your eyes were too much for him to handle. With his head down, he said,

“I hope you had fun.”

Chan brushed passed you to get to the coffee maker. He might as well stay up - what was the point in sleeping now?

You rushed up stairs so he didn’t see the tears rolling down your face.

The day was silent. Everything seemed to stop, but that was the last thing you wanted. You wanted to pack up, get in the damn cherry red convertible, and fly all the way home where you could forget about this whole weekend and the people involved. Felix finally made it home around noon, chatting nonstop about the yacht party that happened at four in the morning and all the girls he was talking to and thankful he couldn’t sense the tension between you and Chan.

The drive to the airport was silent. The flight back home was silent. The drive to your apartment was silent and the only noise you made that night was crying yourself to sleep.

Where did you go wrong? Was it when you wandered off to Woojin? Was it when you agreed to go on this trip? Was it when you fell for someone so unattainable for someone in your social class? Was it when you weren’t born with a billion dollars to your name?

Life was unfair and it had a funny way with playing with you and your heart.

You didn’t see Chan much after tonight.

#chan #bang chan #skz #stray kids #skz chan #stray kids chan #skz scenarios #stray kids scenarios #skz imagines #stray kids imagines #chan scenarios #chan imagines #i love making chan look like an asshole LOOLLLL #sorry if some of the suggestive stuff was uhh explicit?? idk #also sorry it's in two parts HAHA i did not wanna post something more than my seungmin fic ._. #omg i hope yall like this :/ im not so confident w this one

[hawkbucks]

Joke’s on you, I’m going to list my favorite quotes anyway (besides the ones from the foreword that I’ve already listed) because they are Very Important: 

“Like any normal nineteen-year-old, I earned both of my master’s degrees on my own merits.” 

“Yinsen bought me the time I needed to recharge the suit, but the cost was his own life. I owe him big time, and I will never be able to repay him.” “Iron Man was born... and my world would never be the same!” 

“Don’t let the smooth talk fool you. Deep down, I’ll always be a tech geek, more comfortable alone in a workshop than surrounded by celebs at a gala fundraiser.” 

“You don’t always have to fight villains to save lives. That’s why I started the Maria Stark Foundation in memory of my mother. It may not be the branch of my company that gets the most public attention, but in my opinion, it’s where we do the most good.”

“Didn’t see [my dad] an awful lot, so Mom took me to visit every day. I grew up around Stark Industries. Or maybe Stark Industries grew up around me? 

“Instead of blowing up the world, why not help build a better one instead?”

“Over the years, I managed to develop a small core of people who I could trust implicitly. Strip away my high-tech suit, my fancy toys, even my checkbook, and I know these guys would still be on my side. They’ve become the family I thought I lost.” 

“Rhodey’s have me back for as long as I can remember. where as my stalwart best friend or flying by my side as War Machine, he’s always been there for me. We’ve been brothers-in-arms from the moment I first saved his life. He’s since repaid the debt more times than I can remember. There’s no truer friend than Rhodey. And his middle name’s Rupert. Don’t tell him I told you.” 

“I may have inherited a fortune from my parents, but the very best thing they left me was [Jarvis].” 

“I thank the heavens for Pepper every day. I’m nominating her for sainthood. Seriously.” 

“[Happy] may have been a little rough around the edges, but that was one of the things we all loved about him. Especially Pepper. Those two crazy kids were meant for each other and, even though things sometimes got rocky between them, their love was unlike anything I’d ever seen. Happy was a huge part of my world. And unfortunately is was my world--the world of Iron Man--that eventually got him killed. I’ll never forget that. And I’ll fight every day to make sure it never happens to anyone else I love.” 

“Guys like The Ghost and Spymaster will stop at nothing to worm their way into a company’s infrastructure and dig up our darkest secrets to sell to the highest bidder. Which reminds me... I really need to delete my web browser’s search history...”

“[Janice] was one of the great loves of my life, and she lost hers because of me. I don’t think I’ve ever forgiven myself.” 

“I have a soft spot for the bad girls.”

“[Rumiko and I] turned into something quite real, at least for a while. As usual, I got lost in my work... and I ended up losing Ru in the process.” 

“When I really get down to work, I don’t have time to worry about what I look like. Maximum comfort yields maximum productivity. A pair of Chucks, well-worn jeans, and a T-shirt will do just fine.” 

“Oddly enough, it’s the smallest stuff I get sentimental about. A watch and some engraved cufflinks. Dad left them on the nightstand the evening the accident happened. Collectors ask me about the watch once a month. It’s never going anywhere.”

“Easy listening is not on my playlist nor is mindless head banging. Classic rock, punk, and indie new wave are more my thing. I like the funky relaxes atmosphere in the ‘fringe’ and ‘artsy’ areas of my favorite big cities... preferably before they get gentrified and become infested with hipsters.” 

“So any joint that dispenses concentrated caffeine and has free Wi-Fi will have me warming its bench seats sooner or later.” 

“If somebody if bumped back on the waiting list because I showed up with no reso, I’ll gladly pick up their tab and add a nice bottle of a Pinot Noir.” 

“[blueprint notes] Reprogram J.A.R.V.I.S to agree with me more often.” 

“Still, mad respect for the classics.”

“...this suit boldly went where no Iron Man had gone before.” 

“When designed some of my earlier armors, I always felt like something was missing. I couldn’t put my finger on it. Was it a faster core processor? A more powerful repulsor? A better defense system? You’d think. But instead, what did I add? A nose.” 

“Jet. Powered. Roller. Skates. Yeah. You heard me.” 

“My repulsor beams could stop a charging rhino in its tracks. Theoretically, of course. Rest assured, I’ve done no testing on actual rhinos. That would just be cruel.” 

“There are people who say I am just a glorified machine operator. They think my armor is the real star of the show and that anyone could strap in and do my job just the same. Those people probably think that Jimi Hendrix was just a guitar player, or that Mario Andretti was just a driver.” 

“[Has an entire section dedicated towards his science friends called “SCIENCE BROS!”]”

“Everything you learn in life can help inform your hardest decisions. Sometimes, though, the answers you can’t find in your head you can find in your soul. Or on Wikipedia.” 

“Soon after, we came across the flash-frozen body of Captain America. We thawed him out, and he joined the team as well. Don’t tell him I said so, but it was one of the best days of my life. That’s when things started to click. Suddenly, the Avengers weren’t just another experiment to me. They were something bigger. Something important.” 

“We’ve had a ton of different members over the years, but Cap and I have always held steady at the core of the Avengers...” 

“...there’s no shame in relying on others to help you get the job done. Sometimes, there comes a day when even Earth’s Mightiest Heroes have to join forces to face the threats that no single hero can withstand. That’s when the call goes out. That’s when the Avengers assemble! (Ooh. Did you just get goosebumps, too?)”

“Whether you’re in charge of thousands of employees or a select squad of heroes, leadership is a pretty heavy burden. Choosing the path that is best for the most in the long run can come with major downsides in the short term. That’s the real test of your character--whether you can make the tough choice despite what everybody else thinks of you.” 

“Life is good. I plan to enjoy every minute. And I know what I’ll be wearing as I do.” 

#My god I love him so much I just!! LOVE HIM!!!

[fictorium]

Lemme take a chance that this very obvious combination may inspire more Supercat ficlets coz I’ve been dying with the feels you’ve been giving me lately. 22, 25, 40. Thanks so much!

22. “I don’t owe you an explanation.”

At first Kara assumes it’s another retreat in the mountains ‘diving’ situation. Cat Grant walking out on the White House is a big deal, but in a career like hers it barely breaks the top ten. Everyone speculates about what big move is next, including serious political commentary about whether Cat will run in the next election to unseat Baker. 

Instead she just disappears. Off the face of the Earth, it seems. 

Since she hasn’t been told otherwise, Kara ignores the chatter as best she can. It’s only natural that she reaches out by text and email to see if she can help spin whatever story Cat would rather have out there, and it definitely hurts when those go unanswered. Just a little. A totally normal amount. For two friends. Mentor and mentee. Former colleagues. 

Which is all they are. Were. Can be. Kara’s sure about that. Mostly. 

It would just be polite, in a civilized society, to reply to a person’s texts. Even if just to say that what Cat had planned next was less than zero of Kara’s business. Period. 

It’s not like she’s mad about it. Anyway.

It’s only when the unthinkable happens almost three weeks in, when the media actually moves on from the Where Is Cat Grant story that they’ve been having so much fun with, that Kara starts to look at the situation differently. Cat can be guarded about her privacy for someone so public, but she usually leaves at least a trail of breadcrumbs to wrongfoot the paparazzi. 

The reporter in Kara almost can’t help herself. She has access to almost everything she did as Cat’s assistant--surprisingly, most things on that front haven’t changed--and it only takes a few calls to former colleagues of Cat’s in DC to start picking up the first scent of the mystery. 

It’s a mystery that results only in dead ends though, and Kara is so frustrated after days of working on it flat out that she gives in and uses her supersenses for the kind of lead that good journalism just isn’t providing. She’s out of practice and it wouldn’t work if Cat really had gone to the other side of the planet, but she must at least be somewhere on the West Coast judging by how quickly Kara picks up that familiar half-stutter in Cat’s every second heartbeat, the result of a faint murmur she’s had since childhood. 

At first it worried Kara, because it sounded a little broken and almost like a warning, but she quickly got used to it working beside Cat all day every day. Now it’s a useful beacon in street after street of heartbeats, none of them quite right. When she does finally, almost frantically, track down that one elusive beat, Kara’s a little startled to discover Cat’s somewhere way out in the desert, with only a handful of other people anywhere nearby. 

Kara checks property records and Cat’s accounts to see if there’s some new house in the portfolio, but it’s only tracing a sizeable payment in the thousands to something vaguely labelled on a statement as ‘wellness’ that Kara puts the pieces together. 

She should leave it there, when she does. It’s not something she should intrude on. But there’s a website. Full of glossy words and promises and legally-watertight non-guarantees. Kara wants to throw up as she reads more and more of it, of seeing page after page that screams at her for being so far out of the loop, for not being around to see where this was all going. 

And mostly, horribly, for being too damn late. 

There’s only one thing Kara wants to do now, but the tiny chance of it is entirely dependent on whether Cat will even see her. It’s coming up on 8pm when Kara picks up the phone, and she just hopes that will be reason enough for her call to get answered. 

* * *

At least when she gets there, to the mysterious sprawling ranch in the desert, Kara can see that it’s the height of luxury. That much hasn’t changed since Kara’s world flipped upside down over a week ago. The worst part has been not being able to tell a single soul, not even Alex, and the stress of that was only offset by Cat agreeing to see Kara. Today. In exactly 13 minutes to be exact. 

Security is tight, but Kara has patience to spare as she goes through step after step to be allowed inside, to once again be accepted into Cat’s inner sanctum. The room that Kara is politely told to wait in is certainly a beautiful space, a courtyard of sorts with sunbleached white walls and the kind of sleek but stuffed garden furniture that costs four times what Kara’s actual furniture was worth, brand new. 

There’s a small table with a pitcher of iced tea, so Kara pours a glass and downs it, pouring another right after. It’s distraction enough with the rattling ice that she doesn’t notice Cat’s approach. 

“I don’t owe you an explanation,” is Cat’s opening shot, and Kara spins around at the sound of her voice.

“I’m not asking for one.”

“Good. And I don’t want a drink, before you offer.” Cat waves a sleek water bottle that she’s holding in one hand, a band from it around her wrist. “I haven’t been drying out in here for weeks only to come out addicted to sugar.”

Well that answers any number of questions Kara doesn’t dare ask. As rehab facilities go, it’s certainly five-star. This is the first day on Cat’s program that she’s been allowed visitors, and Kara is surprised she’s even there. It would be terrible to blow it, to have Cat throw her out before they even sit down. 

“You look good,” Kara says instead, taking a seat on the large bench that dominates one wall. Cat considers for a moment, then joins her. She has large sunglasses in place, but there’s no evidence of makeup on her skin. Her hair has none of its usually immaculate style, and the blonde highlights have faded out to mostly brown at the roots. All the same, it’s true that Cat looks every bit as beautiful as Kara has always found her. 

The compliment earns only a derisive snort, but Cat preens just a little, in her linen shirt and pants, loose-fitting and crinkled in a way that feels almost unbearably intimate; like Kara shouldn’t be present when Cat is so stripped back and vulnerable. 

“So, you found me,” Cat says eventually. “We’ll make a reporter of you yet.”

“I’ve been nominated for a Pulitzer, Ms Grant.”

“Oh please, those don’t even count until your third.” 

Kara winces at her own excitement, at how readily she’d believed she’d made it. Cat, to her credit, seems to notice that the words were a little too flippant.

“You can still enjoy the first two, of course. Now you’ve seen me for yourself, is that enough?”

“Enough? Cat, I came to see if you need anything. If I can help in any way. Here, now, or when you get out and come home. I’ve been researching addiction, and how best to support someone you care about and--”

“Kara, I’m not your problem anymore. You don’t have to manage me, or keep my life running smoothly. You’re... off the hook for all that now.”

“Did you not hear the part where I care about you?” Kara won’t let that be swept aside, not now. “You can be oblivious, Cat, but not that unaware.”

“And if you’ve done your research, you’ll know that relationships in the first year of recovery are a bad idea. Along with all the other reasons it’s a bad idea.”

Kara stands. She’s being shot down before she even gets going, and it can’t be that way. Not now. 

“Do you honestly think I wouldn’t wait for you? That I haven’t basically been waiting for you since I walked into your office at 10:15 years ago? Do you think there is anything you could go through that would make me stop caring about you?”

“I have a lot to fix, Kara. Not least with my boys. Carter isn’t even...”

“I spoke to him,” Kara replies. “I know you’re not talking but I know he’s open to making that better, when you’re ready. And nothing I ever wanted for me and you would get in the way of that. We might only ever be friends, Cat, but I plan on being a good one.”

Cat reaches for her then, catching Kara’s hand and clutching it with her own. 

“I knew you’d find me. Somehow, I knew. And I don’t deserve you, Kara, but if you’re really offering to be in my life again, I don’t think I can turn that down.”

“Then don’t.”

“We could go for a walk? In the grounds? They let me do that now.” Cat stands without ever letting go of Kara’s hands. “I can’t promise anything else, but we could start with that?” 

“I’d like that,” Kara replies. “I’d like that a lot.”

#s1 nostalgia meme #supercat #kara danvers #cat grant #tw alcoholism #tw drug addiction #tw rehab #Anonymous

[sparrow-flies-south]

Ten Things [chapter 6]

Fandom: Sanders Sides Pairings: Anxceit, Royality Intrulogical Summary: Ten Things I Hate About You AU When Roman Prince learns that Patton Foster isn’t allowed to date until his older brother, Virgil, is, Roman is crushed. Roman’s twin brother Remus, however, comes up with a plan: find someone who is willing to date Virgil. And who better to ask than Janus Verona, who according to rumours is willing to do anything for the right price? Taglist: @glitchybina @someone-idk-is-here @ellietempest @imlikeaghostzombiejesus @anxiety-ismy-name Notes: I know I promised to get this out on Saturday, but then I ended up having to scrap the half I’d written and start again, whoops.

AO3 Link - Chapter One - Chapter Two - Chapter Three - Chapter Four - Chapter Five - Chapter Six - Chapter Seven- Chapter Eight

Chapter Six

“Hey, Janus!”

Janus had not had someone call his name in the corridor since middle school, but hearing it still made his heart speed up. He cursed himself internally as he turned around, and then began cursing Roman Prince, who was shouldering his way towards him.

“Roman,” Janus greeted. “Tell me, do you understand the meaning of the word ‘discretion’?”

“What?” Roman asked. Janus rolled his eyes and began walking away.

“I need a favour,” Roman said, easily keeping pace with Janus.

“You already owe me over a hundred dollars,” Janus replied.

“What? No I don’t!”

Janus sighed. “A hundred and five, to be precise. Seventy five for the party, thirty upfront for the next date.”

“You – The party wasn’t a date,” Roman protested.

“By all means Roman, do keep telling me about my own love life.”

“First of all: gross.” Roman pulled a face. “Second of all, why didn’t you ask for the half up front then?”

Because Janus hadn’t known whether Virgil would show up. But that wasn’t the kind of thing you could just admit to the guy paying you. So he decided to cut that line of questioning off right there.

“Why not ask Patton whether it was a date? He was there, after all.”

Roman’s face screwed up in fury. Janus just smiled placidly.

“Something wrong?”

“Fuck you,” Roman spat.

“That costs extra,” Janus shot back.

Roman threw up his hands. “Fine, I’ll pay you the seventy five dollars.”

Janus narrowed his eyes and took a step closer. “Don’t try to cheat me, Roman.”

Roman met his eyes defiantly. “If you want me to keep hiring you, you’ll help me.”

Janus had not gone through the effort of securing a second date just for Roman to flake out on him. “Explain.”

“I’m trying to make things up with Patton,” Roman said. “I screwed up really bad, and-”

Janus help up one hand, and Roman fell silent. “And you need to get back in his good books for this scheme to work.” He sighed. “Fine. But you’ll owe me a favour.”

Roman looked suspicious. “What kind of favour?”

In truth, he’d probably just end up using Roman’s connection to Patton.

“That depends on the size of what you need, doesn’t it?”

“Access to the intercom system,” Roman answered.

“Why would you…? No, don’t tell me, I don’t care.” Janus pulled out his phone, and quickly sent a message. “The room will be empty and unlocked in five minutes. Try not to mess up again.”

Roman looked surprised at the speed which Janus had worked, which was honestly just insulting.

“You might want to hurry,” Janus added.

Roman scowled and then headed back down the corridor. He walked at a normal speed, but Janus had a feeling he was going to start running as soon as he got out of Janus’ sight.

Okay, so maybe Janus could have given Roman longer to get to the office, but then, Roman could have dealt with his problems on his own.

Janus turned a corner, and reached the section of corridor where his locker was. Someone was leaning next to it, and Janus braced himself for more bullshit, until the person looked up, and Janus saw it was Virgil.

“Do I want to know what you keep in here?” Virgil asked, tapping Janus’ locker.

Janus undid the lock and pulled the door open, so that Virgil could see the pile of books inside.

“Well, now I’m disappointed,” Virgil said.

“What were you expecting, severed remains?”

“I don’t know!” Virgil threw his hands up. “Blackmail material?”

Janus shut the locker door, and placed one hand on his heart. “I had no idea you thought so lowly of me,” he said. “I’d never keep anything of value in such an obvious place.”

Virgil snorted. “Where do you keep it then?”

“I’ll have you know I never show a boy my criminal enterprise until the third date,” Janus replied.

Virgil rubbed the back of his neck, his cheeks turning red. “Yeah, about that.” He took a deep breath, and then raised his head so he was looking Janus in the eye. “Go on a date with me?”

Janus’ stomach did a flip. “I thought I’d already asked you that?”

Virgil shrugged. “I pick, right? Seems only fair I ask.”

“I’ll have to check me calendar. I’m so very busy, you know.”

The two of them quickly worked out the specifics – that Janus would go to Virgil’s house after school on Wednesday, and they would go to the date together from there. Virgil assured Janus that Remy would still be at work.

“Oh, and don’t wear anything too nice.”

“What are you planning?” Janus asked.

“It’s a surprise. Just… wear something that you don’t mind getting ruined.”

Janus could think of a few things that matched that description. “Well, now I have to find out.”

The intercom crackled.

“What the hell was that?” Virgil asked, looking around.

Good question, Janus thought, just as Roman’s singing began to float over them.

 Patton had never appreciated the quiet of the library until now.

Logan had insisted they go to the cafeteria to eat, which had surprised Patton so much he’d just gone along with it. But the cafeteria meant people, and Patton felt certain everyone’s eyes were on him. He’d been getting pitying looks all day, and right before he’d met Logan, he’d overheard a girl from his Chemistry class tell her friend how sad it was that Patton didn’t seem to realise no one wanted to date him.

Patton sighed and put his half-eaten sandwich away. Next to him, Logan was glancing nervously around, as if expected to see someone. Patton had a feeling that whoever it was, they weren’t a friend.

“What’s wrong?” Patton asked.

Logan startled, and looked over. That was another thing that was weird; Logan didn’t zone out of conversations. Sure, he could get so absorbed in his work that he probably wouldn’t even notice if he was on fire, but never when they were just talking.

“Sorry, what?” Logan asked.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m… satisfactory.”

Patton had known Logan long enough to not fall for that one. “Just because you’re physically fine, doesn’t mean you’re satisfactory,” he scolded. “Something’s bothering you.”

Logan glanced at the clock on the cafeteria wall, then sighed. “Do you remember-?”

Whatever Logan was about to ask was cut off by a squeal from the intercom system. Patton grimaced at the noise, and Logan’s face closed off completely.

“Forget it,” he said.

Patton shook his head, ignoring whatever the person on the intercom was saying. “Lo-”

“Patton, can you please pay attention to what’s going on?”

Patton looked around the room. Everyone else seemed to be doing the same whilst whispering to each other. Other the intercom, someone was singing.

No, not just someone. Roman was singing.

“You’d be like heaven to touch, I wanna hold you so much”

Oh, Patton realised. He’s singing about me.

The doors to cafeteria burst open, and there was Roman, like something out of a movie. He kept singing as he moved through the room. Everyone was watching Roman, but Roman’s eyes were only on Patton.

Roman jumped onto the table for the chorus, earning giggles from the crowd. Patton was smiling so hard it felt like his face was going to burst. His heart fluttered in his chest.

Without realising it, Patton found himself standing, ready to run into Roman’s arms like in a movie scene.

Which, of course, was when two teachers rushed over to usher Roman away.

Patton was frozen in place as Roman was led out of the cafeteria. Right before he left, though, he twisted round and caught Patton’s eye, smiling hopefully. Patton nodded in response.

As soon as the doors to the cafeteria swung shoot, Patton dropped back into his chair.

“I suppose this means everything is fixed,” Logan commented, looking amused.

Patton grinned over at him. “Is this why you wanted us to eat here?”

Logan glanced away. “Remus may have asked me to bring you here.”

Patton squealed and flung his arms around Logan. Logan huffed in response, but still returned the hug.

“I take it that you’re going to be this exuberant all day, then,” Logan commented.

“Probably,” Patton said cheerfully.

 Mr Sanders’ reaction to Roman showing up for detention was just to shake his head and wave Roman to a seat.

“Hey,” Roman said, completely unrepentant. “It worked.”

He took the seat closest to the window, so at least he’d be able to look outside. They weren’t even allowed to do homework, so the only thing to do was wait.

And wait.

And wait.

Roman glanced over towards the clock – surely the hour must nearly be up by now?

It had been five minutes.

Roman groaned, and hit his head against the table.

“Dying won’t get you out of this,” Mr Sanders said, and Roman gave him a thumbs up.

“Mr Sanders!”

Roman’s head shot back up. Patton was hovering in the doorway, fiddling with the sleeves of the cardigan he wore around his neck. He caught Roman’s eye, and jerked his head to the side. What he was trying to say, Roman had no idea.

“I, uh, I had a question,” Patton said, and Mr Sanders stepped out into the corridor with him.

Over Mr Sanders’ shoulder, Patton caught Roman’s eye and jerked his head again. This time, he seemed to be gesturing at something behind Roman.

Roman looked out the window, but there was nothing there that caught his eye. He turned back to Patton, who was talking animatedly to Mr Sanders. Roman twisted around again.

They were on the second floor, but there was ledge outside the window that wound its way around the school. And if he made it around the corner, he could use the fire escape to climb down.

Roman glanced out the corridor, where Mr Sanders seemed completely focused on Patton. He slowly got up from his desk. When Mr Sanders didn’t even look around, he crept to the window.

This was almost ending up too easy. That was probably a safety flaw the school should do something about. Roman undid the latch and pushed the window up – only for it to let out a giant creak as it moved.

Roman froze, and glanced over his shoulder. Mr Sanders began to turn around, and Roman contemplated just jumping out of the window there and then. Two stories probably wouldn’t kill him.

“No!” Patton cried out. He grabbed Mr Sanders’ shoulders, holding him in place. “I mean, uh-”

Roman didn’t bother to find out how good of a distraction Patton could provide. He climbed up onto the window sill, and then gingerly placed on foot on the outside ledge. It was only just wide enough for him to stand on, and that was providing that he kept his back to the wall.

Roman slowly climbed out, his hands pressed against the wall to keep his balance. He began to inch his way across the ledge, keeping his gaze up so that he wouldn’t have to see how high he was.

This was fine, he told himself, as he made his way along the side of the building. Why, it was just like something out of a fantasy book; some noble knight climbing out of a tower to save their love.

Of course, the books never went in to much detail about what would happen if the knight fell from the tower and landed on the concrete of the car park below.

He made it to the corner, and managed to edge his way around. Now, all he had to do was climb the railing onto the fire escape, and then go down the iron steps.

Climbing over a something was a lot harder when you couldn’t come at it face on. Instead, he had to twist his body to grab the railing, then swing his right leg around and on top of it. For a moment, his stomach dropped out, until his foot was able to find purchase.

He thanked God that he’d started taking dance lessons seriously over summer, since they were probably the only reason he was able to pull himself up and over.

He landed on the fire escape with a thud, and for a moment just lay there, trying to get over his near-death experience. He was never doing anything that would get him detention again.

After a while, Roman pulled himself back to his feet and climbed down the stairs. He headed to the school entrance, where, sure enough, Patton was waiting. As soon as he saw Roman, he raced over.

“I can’t believe I just did that,” Patton exclaimed.

“My valiant knight,” Roman said. “Saving me from the tortures of detention.”

Patton giggled. “My brave Prince, facing detention to defend my honour.”

“How did you manage to distract Mr Sanders?” Roman asked.

“Oh, uh, I asked him what I thought of my monologue.”

“What monologue?” Roman couldn’t remember anything like that coming up in Drama class.

“The one I made up on the spot,” Patton admitted, and Roman laughed.

“And how did your esteemed teacher react?”

“I think I just confused him,” Patton answered. He glanced around. “We should probably get out of here, though.”

The car park was almost empty by now, with only a few cars belonging to students at extracurriculars left. Remus had already declared that he refused to wait for Roman and would make his own way home, so Patton and Roman went straight to Roman’s car.

“Is your brother waiting for you?” Roman asked.

Patton shook his head. “I told him I was getting a lift with a friend.”

Roman let out a sigh of relief. After their encounter on Friday, he’d been doing his best to stay out of Virgil’s way. Not that he was scared of him or anything – he just didn’t want to upset Patton by getting into a fight with his brother.

They reached Roman’s car far too soon.

“I, uh, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow,” Patton said.

Roman swallowed down his nerves. “Wait. I owe you an apology.”

“You don’t have to apologise,” Patton said. He hugged his arms close to his body. “It’s okay if you don’t want to kiss me.”

“Don’t want to-? Patton, I’ve wanted to kiss you since the moment we met.”

“Then… why didn’t you?” Patton asked.

Roman sighed and ran a hand through his hair. He really had messed up. “Did you read my texts?”

Patton shook his head. “They, uh, they got deleted.”

Well, Roman had known Patton was upset. “You were drunk,” he explained. “I do want to kiss you, but only if you want me too, and not just because you’re drunk.”

“Well, I’m not drunk now,” Patton said.

Roman laughed. “I should hope not.”

“And I want you to kiss me,” Patton added.

Roman swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry. “Oh.”

He took a step forward, and tilted Patton’s chin up with one hand. Patton’s lips parted slightly.

“Can I?” Roman asked, and Patton nodded.

The kiss was brief. Patton stayed still as Roman leaned in to it, and Roman could taste the Chapstick on his lips. When he drew back, his own lips were buzzing.

“Oh,” Patton said quietly.

“Is that a good oh?” Roman asked.

He’d only kissed a boy once before, back in freshman year. Then there had been the girl that he’d kissed for a play, but he’d quickly decided that that didn’t count.

“Very good,” Patton said.

Roman brushed a strand of hair away from Patton’s face.  “Does that mean I’m forgiven?”

“Are you always going to apologise like that?” Patton asked.

“I never want to have to apologise to you again.���

Patton blushed, and then grabbed Roman’s hand.

“Don’t go home,” he said. “Not yet.”

Roman raised an eyebrow. “You want to stay here?”

“No,” Patton said. “I mean, let’s go somewhere else.”

“Why, Patton,” Roman asked, “Are you asking me out on a date?”

“Why, Roman,” Patton replied. “I think I am.”

The autumn sun was already on its way down, turning the air around them golden. Roman crossed to the passenger side of the car, and pulled open the door.

“Well then, my dear,” he said. “Your carriage awaits.”

#sanders sides #sanders sides fanfiction #anxceit #royality #intrulogical #virgil sanders #janus sanders #deceit sanders #sympathetic deceit #roman sanders #patton sanders #logan sanders #ten things #my fic

[seriouslyblacklikemysoul]

An Ephemeral Eternity in Seven Parts - Steve Rogers x Reader

MASTERLIST Warnings: Gifs aren’t mine. My English. Also, last sentence - well, maybe it’s the start of something new.  Word Count~ 7k.  Part I Part II Part III Part IV Part V Part VI PART  VII

 The melancholic notes of the guitar accompanied her soft and broken voice in a song that reminded very much of a lamentation of her past, her present and her future.

 Everything she touched, begun to decay. Everyone she loved, had only ended up unloved, depressed, addicted or alone. It had made her wonder if she was the one; if she was the wolf dressed as the little red riding hood. What if everyone around her was simply a helpless sheep and to prowl for her next meal she clothed herself in love and kindness, only to poison those closest to her until they are damaged beyond repair. She could only ever ruin so many relationships before she understood that the devil lived inside of her making her a toxic landfill disguised in fake beautiful grass and flowers - she had never been afraid of the monster in her closet, she had always been terrified by the one she saw in the mirror.  She didn't remember which night it was - the one she left, like a thief, not making a sound, knowing that he heard her. It made her decision easier when he didn't even try to stop her. It was selfish - he had been badly broken too. She felt the failure calling out her name - she couldn't make it better for him because she was a mess. She had lost herself and she wasn't sure she wasn't sure she wanted to be found. And so she left. She took a few clothes with her and left.  She had no solid plan for her days ahead. She couldn't find a point to it. She had wandered aimlessly when she found herself in a small city that did not speak English. She had smiled painfully to herself. A stranger among strangers. 

Not long after her decision to stay there for a while, she had to find a way to earn some money in order to get by. The kind old lady, who had helped her with almost everything, seeing in her face the granddaughter she had lost just mere weeks before she turned up in her door - since she was one of the very few people who spoke English -  had offered her a job she thought it would suit her. There was a small place where those who stayed behind went to drink and listen to old and soft songs about loss, love and pain. They were missing a singer. She had thought why not.  Isabella had been nothing but kind and sweet, just like a real grandmother - not that she had met one.  "Grief is a deeply personal and solitary journey. No one can truly feel or understand your loss but you, even those who have experienced it themselves. But grief is also love, and for that reason it has a right to exist and be felt. It is the debt we owe our memories. It is the final way we love someone" she had soothed her after the first time she heard her sing. There was pain in her voice, even when she sung in Spanish. She had never believed it would cost her everything. Yet, it did. 

 Months flew by as she had fallen into a simple yet so human routine. Many handsome men had threw themselves to her but she had closed herself, letting no one in. She had lost people along the way. She had left others behind. She had cut them out of her life, sometimes uncertain if it was the right decision. Looking back, she had done things she might have regretted now. This quieter life she had now was closer to the one she had been dreaming the cold nights that she had been held by HYDRA or trained by Madam B. She couldn't sake the feeling that something was missing - she was different and she hadn't ever realized. The girl from her past wasn't the woman she had grown to be.  "Hay un hombre guapo buscándote, cariño" Isabella suddenly told her, making her slightly jump from the couch she had been seated for at least two hours, starring at the wall. Seeing her lost eyes, Isabella sat down next to her and took her hands in hers.  "Listen, cariño. Love transcends gender, age, political beliefs; it crosses borders. It’s literally the strongest motivator and force we have. It makes people do things they can’t explain. And it comes in all forms and it comes when you least expect it and it comes and it goes and it changes and people have spent years and wrote books and studied the stars trying to understand it. And sometimes it’s the boy you called over to get over,  the boy you were crying about and sometimes it’s the girl you grew up next door to your whole life and sometimes it’s a friend who saved your soul or a baby you didn’t expect. But it’s all around us in forms yet to be manifested- letters yet to be written, hands yet to be held. And all goodness stems from it and it literally changes the world. So even though it sometimes causes us pain and it drags us into situations we didn’t ask for, we can never close ourselves off to it or give up on it. We have to keep loving because it’s the closest thing we have to magic and without it we’re just a conscious pile of bones and life means nothing. Ve hacia el" and just like that, from the mouth of someone who used to be a stranger, the entire meaning of life and love and pain was summed up into a minute of hope. Isabella had lost her son and her granddaughter, everyone she ever loved and yet, there she was telling her to embrace life with its bad and its good. Tears she had no idea when they escaped, were running down her face. "Mi bella Isabella, gracias por tu sabiduría. Gracias por tu amor. But if I go to him, I'll leave you and I can't do that to you" she told her truthfully. Isabella just shook her head and smiled.  "I'll always be here. Go to him, cariño". She kissed her cheek and hugged her as tightly as she would love to be hugged. She had been everything she was missing.

 As the song went on, her eyes fell on him - he had just entered the place. And every memory she kept tacked away, came back rushing through her veins. In her head, she could hear Isabella's words but her heart just didn't want to get hurt again. She knew the moment he talked to her, she would succumb her entire being to his hands. 

War was the only dance he had ever known and she wished they could have had more time amid the chaos and fire and blood to show him that there could be another way. She fell in love with the way he saw the world, the way he saw her... She fell in the chasm of his soul and his light. She would gladly drown in the darker half of the sea to hold him in her arms for more than just that single night of peace. She had been aware that they had met and they had loved in a warzone and even though his kisses had melted away the gunfire, they still held echoes of the fire burning in him but she knew hers were the same. He had been worth the risk time and time again because with his hand burning into her skin, she had hope once more ... and the blood that had stained him couldn't take away his goodness and the stars that had betrayed him, didn't mean she forsaken her devotion. There had always been a rage built inside their souls, just like this love was worthy of burning empires down ... screams that follow them all the way home only to be quieted when she kissed the blood from his lips... and even when the universe will force them to part he will remain, echoing in her heart that only belonged to him. She knew that they were the ugly parts of the love story but she also knew they were the beautiful ones too. The song came to an end and she went to the table she held every night, the one far away from the lights and the people. Eyes never leaving his, she nodded for him to join her, as she poured herself a glass of red wine. He had never been so afraid of a moment and its impact. He had no idea what to say to her or how to be around her, when she poured and offered him another glass of wine.  "I didn't know you could sing" he told her before he hid his face in his hands, only to resurface as red as a tomato. She tried to swallow her laughter but failed.  "You're still not good with women, Steve" and just by saying his name, her heart places itself in his hands. He smiled brightly even though he had messed up his opening line, it had worked out. She was sipping her wine with a fondness he had never seen before. Maybe leaving was the best thing she had done - and he would be selfish to ask her back. Again. Not leaving her alone, to decide her own path. He needed her in a way he hadn't needed anyone since...  "I will come back Steve. But I need you to promise me that we will search and search over and over again for a way to undo this -and if we don't find one it will be because there isn't, not because we overlooked it" she told him boldly with her eyes a soft lilac color, as she looked over her shoulder, signaling to someone to approach them He was taken aback. He believed that she wouldn't even want to talk about what had happened. He had seen the way Bucky had looked at her before he... and he had already suspected his feelings towards her. Steve knew it had a great impact on her - not that it had been the only reason for her breakdown. After realizing her new powers she had refused to use them because they were the reason half of the planet was dead. He looked at her with a new found admiration - she was the bigger person.  "Of course. May I ask why?" he prepared himself to hear a reason he wouldn't like, instead, his heart broke a little bit more.  She smiled and stood up to give her sit to an old woman he had never seen before. It was the first time Steve saw this side of her.  "Isabella, este es Steve. Ese hombre guapo que me estaba buscando" she spoke in Spanish making him question if he knew her at all. Isabella took his hands into hers and looked at him just like his mother would have, which caused some tears to appear. They got to know each other and he realized that she had never felt the love of a family - and she craved it. When Isabella said her goodnight, having already invited him to spend the night in her house, she grew quiet. She knew he was waiting for an answer. "She is the reason why. She lost everything - her son, her granddaughter - and yet she hasn't lost hope. She told me to live life with everything that comes with it and embrace it because it's all we got.  She is the reason I am talking to you. She told me 'go to him' because love is the closest thing we have to magic and I couldn't just tell her I have magic running through my veins but couldn't save her family" she said with fire in her words and determination pouring over her. 

It felt wrong. Being back, felt wrong. She had followed him once again, but this time she hadn't found the people she had last time. She felt out of time – as if she didn’t belong. No one was waiting for her; Natasha was broken and Tony was nowhere near the place. Maybe she had been naïve for trusting him again; deep down she knew the only thing they had been left with was bitterness. She spent her days reading, training and trying out different things. Steve had an unhealthy need to fill Sam’s shoes as he had begun some group session. The irony was obvious to her; He was telling them, urging them to move on while he would never. She had seen as much in his eyes when they were talking about his past and the beginnings of his story – way before he became Captain America. There was one particular story he didn’t feel like sharing and she understood why – but also bothered her. She had kept her promise and had searched everything in order to find a way to undo this. She had spent days and nights looking for an answer. There had been times she felt so useless she wouldn’t get out of her room – nobody dared to disagree with her on those days. Slowly yet steadily, Steve and her grew distant and she felt as if they were miles apart even when they were sitting right next to each other. Being positive had never been one of her assets and that fake optimism Steve had, got on her nerves. Then again, maybe it was just his way of coping with the events. She had found herself longing to leave the base and go back to Isabella’s house more than enough times to realize that she never felt at home in the Avenger’s base. And the years flew by without even noticing it. The only thing new must had been the fact that she met Carol, a woman with many of her own powers and a life experience to match them. Other than that, Natasha had been obsessing over Clint – who had gone dark after his family disappearance. She could never say that all of those people had died – they had just dusted away. Which was the same and she had been fooling herself for a very long time. Steve had been the positive fucking little unicorn in front of others but he was so lost when they were alone. A raccoon was sending them emails with reports and Nebula wanted to get revenge a tad more than all of them combined.  She knew things were bound to be different, but she couldn’t recognize anything anymore. She had been drifted away from those around her because she didn’t feel a connection to them anymore – the only thing they had in common was anger. She had just made a cup of coffee when Steve walked in, finding Natasha on the verge of crying as he went on about the bright side, but Nat wasn’t having it. She just plopped down next to Natasha, smiling towards Steve without even bothering to listen to their conversation but her eye caught something. Something unexpected. “Oh! Hi. Hi! Is anyone home? This is Scott Lang. We met a few years ago, at the airport? In Germany? I got really big, and I had my mask on. You wouldn't recognize me” Scott Lang was rumbling on at their front gate. Before she could register their reactions, she had buzzed him in and left the room running towards him. “Have you ever studied Quantum Physics?” Scott asked them a moment later. “Only to make conversation” came a sarcastic answer by Natasha, which didn’t bring him down. “Alright. So... five years ago, right before Thanos, I was in a place called the Quantum Realm. The Quantum Realm is like its own microscopic universe. To get in there, you have to be incredibly small. Hope, she's my... She was my... She was supposed to pull me out. And then Thanos happened, and I got stuck in there” he said while he was struggling not to tell the entire truth about their relationship. “I'm sorry. That must've been a very long five years” Natasha sincerely told him only to be shocked when he replied the most unbelievable thing. “Yeah, but that's just it. It wasn't. For me, it was five hours”. Steve and Nat shared a quick bewildered glance, while she had figured it out, because she had indeed studied Quantum Physics. “See, the rules of the Quantum Realm aren't like they are up here. Everything is unpredictable. Is that anybody's sandwich? I'm starving” Scott said as he strode over to pick up Nat's sandwich, and bit into it. “Scott, what are you talking about?” Steve asked him confused and puzzled. “What he is saying is, time works differently in the Quantum Realm” she chimed in, gaining a strange look from Steve and a very impressed one from Scott. “The only problem is right now, we don't have a way to navigate it. But what if we did? I can't stop thinking about it. What if, we could somehow control the chaos, and we could navigate it? What if there was a way to enter the Quantum Realm at a certain point in time but then exit at another point in time? Like...” he went on. “Like before Thanos” she half-whispered. “Wait, are you two talking about a time machine?” Steve asked as he couldn’t believe his ears. “No. No, of course not. No, not a time machine. It's more like a... Yeah, a time machine. I know it's crazy. But I can't stop thinking about it. There's gotta be some way... There's gotta be...some w... it's crazy” his craziness was making her head dizzy. She knew they would have to talk to her father, sooner or later. She hoped it would be later but that was not gonna the case. “Scott, I get e-mails from a raccoon, so nothing sounds crazy anymore” Nat reassured him. “So who do we talk to about this?” Scott cut to the chase and everyone looked at her. 

They pulled over at his cabin and one by one got out of the car. Tony looked at them and she could tell that he was not looking forward to the discussion about to take place. He acknowledged her with a single hey, and so she decided to let them talk in peace while she was gazing at the lake from afar. "I know you got a lot on the line. You got a wife, a daughter. But I lost someone very important to me. A lot of people did. And now, now we have a chance to bring her back. To bring everyone back. And you're telling me that won't even... “ his voice got louder as he tried to sell his desperation to Tony. “That's right, Scott, I won't even. I got a kid” Tony simply told them, making her remark. “Yeah, now he’s got a kid” she retorted, making him realize what he had just said. As on cue, Morgan run to her dad, who picked her up. “Mommy told me to come and save you. And to tell to the pretty girl to stay a while” Morgan told him as she pointed at his other daughter. “Good job. I'm saved. I wish you'd come here to ask me something else. Anything else. Honestly, I... I missed you guys, it was... Oh, and table's set for six” he went on and informed them. “Tony, I get it. And I'm happy for you, I really am. But this is a second chance” Steve tried to reason with him but she already knew he wasn’t gonna give up just yet. He had to solve it on his own. “I got my second chance right here, Cap. I can't roll the dice again. If you don't talk shop, you can stay for lunch. And you should stay for a while” he concluded as he turned to face her. She smiled at him. She was going to stay a while and Steve saw it. It was hard to say goodbye but unfortunately it had become easier with the years. Steve, Nat and Scott were walking back to their car outside Tony's house as she was stepping inside, hugging Pepper. She could feel him slipping away from her life but she didn’t know how to keep him there – well, she didn’t even know if he wanted to be there anymore.

The day had been quiet, Pepper was an amazing mother and Tony was trying to be a great dad but he knew that he had failed once before, so he wasn’t hoping for much. They had lunch and she met Morgan a bit better. The kid was smart, but that didn’t come as a surprise, it was rather a given. “So how do you two know each other?” she asked suspiciously as she eyed her. Tony almost chocked but she kept her calm, as she was sipping a glass of wine. “We used to work together for a project, sweetie” she smoothly told her without raising any suspicion and even thought Tony felt relieved, Pepper shoot him an angry look, making him nod his head as if they made a promise. “You’re an Avenger!” Morgan exclaimed, excited with her new discovery. But before she could say a thing, Morgan begun asking questions – more questions than anyone before, leaving her stumped. “Honey, come on. Don’t bombard her with your questions. Wanna help me with dessert?” Pepper came to the rescue quickly and she couldn’t be more thankful. Silence fell and it was awkward because no one was going to break it first and Pepper knew as she said louldy "talk". Both of them rolled their eyes at that. "She is smart, that's from your side and she is beautiful - that's all Pepper" she commented shortly after. He almost laughed at her quick comeback.  "How are you? How are things back?" he asked her sincerely, trying to make up for all the lost time. She shook her head, not wanting to lie. Something he understood very well.  "Let me guess. You have been drifted away from people, especially Steve" he made a wild guess and he knew he was right. She stopped hiding her feelings. "Everything I thought I had is no longer. That's why I came here with them. They are asking you to be a hero and save the world. I just wanted to ask you a favor. A while back, I... I left and went -" "To a nice lady called Isabella, who lost her son and granddaughter" he finished her sentence for her, leaving her puzzled. "What? Did you really think I wasn't looking after you?" he asked her. "Well, you left to start a family and didn't even call, so... um. I should have" she concluded at last. He disagreed with her. She had stayed there, not to ask him to fight with them, but to help her find a way, because she knew that there was going to be o return for him and she wanted Morgan to have both of her parents and to feel loved. One of his daughters should. 

She was just watching him work from the couch as she was drinking a hot cup of tea. “Look at a mod inspiration, let me see what check out. So, recommend one last sim before we pack it in for the night” he gave orders to his computer. “Maybe in the shape of a mobius strip, inverted, don’t you think?” she commented as she took a look to the holographic experiment. He agreed with an impressed look. “Do as the lady suggests” he informed Friday. “Processing... “ “Give me that eigenvalue. That, particle factoring, and a spectral decomp. That will take a second” he had just stepped away, towards the couch but it was not to be. “And don't worry if it doesn't pan out. I'm just kinda –“ “Model rendered” Friday announced sending waves of bewilderments down her spine. Tony in a complete shock of amazement as the render came back as 99.987% successful, fell back ecstatic by this discovery. “Shit!” they both exclaimed at the same time. “Shit” Morgan giggled as she repeated the word they had just uttered. Tony took on the father roll quicker than she had thought as he nodded to her to take care of everything that had just been projected while he took Morgan away. They had solved time travel. They had actually found out how to go back in time. Her mind was blown away just by looking at it. As she was walking around the holographic model, Pepper came down the stairs looking for her. “You should rest honey. It’s late” she told her like a mother would. She smiled at her and waited for Tony to get back. “Maybe it’s not” she told her, leaving her puzzled. They both sat on the couch, Pepper reading a book and she was just thinking of the endless possibilities. People less lucky than her would get to see the sun again. Isabella’s family. Spider-kid, Wanda, Strange, Bucky. Oh Gods, Bucky. She had tried to forget about him and how much it had affected her. It had been one of the few failures of her life. “Not that it's a competition, but she loves me 3000. You were somewhere on the low 6 to 900 range” Tony announced as he joined them and got Pepper to scoff. “What are you reading?” he asked absentmindedly as she noticed. “Oh, it's just a book on composting” Pepper told him, making her long for a simple life once more. “What's new with composting?” he asked again without really wanting an answer. Before she could, he cut her off. “We figured it out, by the way” he blurred out, pointing at his daughter proudly. “You know, just so we're talking about the same thing –“ Pepper tried to catch up on their new discovery, very happy they were working together. “Time travel” he simply informed like it was nothing. “What? Wow... That's amazing, and... terrifying. Oh, that’s why you told me maybe it’s not late” she told him amazed as she turned to her still very much astonished. “We got really lucky” she commented and both of them agreed. “Yeah, I know” her father said a tad sad. “A lot of people didn't” Pepper softly nudged him. “No, I can't help everybody” he tried to be civilized and open for debate about it. “It sorta seems like you can. Both of you” his wife disagreed. “Not if I stop. I can put a pin in it right now, and stop” he insisted but they all new what was about to happen. “Tony, trying to get you to stop has been one of the few failures of my life” Pepper echoed her thought from moments ago. Tony smiled proudly about that very fact. “I sometimes feel I should put it in a locked box and drop it at the bottom of a lake... go to bed” he had almost given up on saying no. He wasn’t able to deny that she was right. “But would you be able to rest?” her soft voice pierced through his head. “And neither would you. I know that you left at some point because the memories were too much” she told her with honesty. She couldn’t believe how selfless Pepper was being about something so dangerous. “Come on, kiddo. It’s time to sleep. Tomorrow we are gonna go on a trip” Tony urged his daughter. She could get use to that. “Goodnight Pepper. Goodnight To-… dad” she finally told him, making him smile in pure happiness for the first time in a while.  

The whole world was changing and she had been a part of that very fact. Every plan, every strategy and every theory had been mapped out but she knew that sometimes, even the cleverest of minds can miss a point – so small that no one could have seen. Wanda was trying destroy Thanos, having cost everything to her, Scott and Hope were trying to kick start the engine of the van and everyone was trying to get the gauntlet as far away as possible, without it being very easy of a task. 

Pepper landed next to Okoye, followed by Mantis, Shuri, the Wasp, Gamora, Nebula and herself much to everyone else’s opinion – they all thought she was going to be right by Steve. Thanos' army charged while they helped Carol Danvers gey through the Outriders, Sakaarans and Chitauri. When Carol and she flew towards the van with the Gauntlet, Thanos, after being stopped by Pepper, Shuri and Hope, threw his double sword at the van, destroying it completely. He knocked Carol down and smacked Tony away as Thor arrived in an attempt to pin Thano’s arm down – Steve came rushing towards them, helping Thor but they were all overpowered. In a desperate attempt, when she saw Thanos picking up the gauntlet she punched him away. Thanos grabbed her by the arm and threw her away like she weighted nothing. Thanos put on the gauntlet, gamma radiation from the stones all over his body, as he tried to snap, but she arose again, and stopped his fingers from snapping, opening up his hand similar to what she had seen Steve doing in the other battle. She almost had him, forcing him onto his knees, as her powers were finally enough, she was ready to steal the stones herself. She knew she could take them on – she was part of them and they were part of her. But alas, he pulled the Power Stone out of the Gauntlet and used it in his free hand to hit her away, almost killing her in the prosses. Tony was looking at his daughter terrified and too scared to think of what might happen. He made one last attack on Thanos, having an entirely different plan on his mind. Thanos pushed him away, ending up right next to his older daughter. All it took was one look and she knew – before she could anything at all, everything was already over. “I am inevitable” Thanos snapped his fingers, but nothing happened. He saw that the stones were missing. “NO!” she screamed but Tony simply smiled at her. s except a metallic "clink." He sees the Infinity Stones are missing.

“And I– am– Iron Man”.

The cruelest thing that someone had done to her was first claim to love her more than anything in the world. That he had never seen anything as exquisite as her. That she was every star in the night sky. That he would never leave her. And then one day, out of the blue he did. He lulled her into a false sense of security, convincing her that this, this is the forever love she have been looking for. This is the kind of love she needed all this time, the kind of love she had craved and let her get comfortable in it because it would last. And then, one day, he walked away. He made her believe that there would never be another. And then one day, he forgot her. He simply left without warning after promising her eternity. How ephemeral it turned out to be... It had been years since he came back. Not him - not her Steve. Peggy's Steve. She had refused to meet him - she had refused to even look at him, or be in the same building. She felt betrayed. She had lost Natasha as she had sacrificed herself to get the fucking Soul Stone. She had lost her father and that felt on her - she still felt responsible. And then Steve had decided to leave her all alone to fight her demons after constantly reassuring her he loved her.  But he caught her by surprise, when he entered her office, as she was now in charge of everything her father once held - Morgan was too young and Pepper wanted some time off with her daughter. He knocked the door, waited for her to call him in and he entered. She had been facing the other way, on a phone call but the minute she turned and faced him, her phone fell on the floor and her heart skipped more beats than she could count. "Hello, Ms.. Stark. Do you have a minute for an old friend?" he was being polite as well as sarcastic but her mind had already imploded, so what the fuck? Gaining some of her confidence back, she raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms.  "We were never friends, Mr. Rogers" she fired coldly but he knew her better and she hated it. He looked at her and all it took was a moment. He too raised his eyebrow and walked towards her with absolutely no intention of leaving. Before she could register his acts, he had enveloped her in to his big hug and she felt so fucking angry - it still felt like home. Without even knowing it, she was crying with her head almost resting on his chest.  "It’s weird. It’s weird how you have the same face but you’re a completely different person. It’s weird how I have so many amazing memories with you but they died off as you’re a completely different person. It’s weird that I’m mourning over someone that is still alive because you’re a completely different person. It’s weird, you’re a completely different person. And I hate you for leaving me, but I can never really hate you because I love you" she told him as he sat them down to her couch. She left his arms to look at him. She lowered her walls and finally opened up to him again.  "If I could do it all again, I would stay up later. I would ask more questions, unashamed of how personal they were and not afraid that I wouldn’t like the answers. If I could start over with you, I wouldn’t doubt my instincts. I wouldn’t fear what people thought if I catered to your every whim and laughed at every stupid joke. If I could try again, I would embrace every moment of every fight and ask for everything I needed from you. I wouldn’t worry if I was too needy, too attached, too much of anything. I would be myself more. I would scream louder. I wouldn’t hesitated to tell you I love you, in every way, every day. If I could do it again, I would not love you in halting steps always looking for some sort of validation that I was stepping on solid ground. I would jump into you and if you didn’t catch me, then I would still be picking up the same broken pieces I am now" she sincerely told him. She had lost both her friend and her father, both of them in the name of salvation and then Steve choose to leave her and go back. She had refused to exist for a while because she couldn't function. As everything crumbled around her, she had looked for a something to hold on to, but those closest couldn’t hear her amidst their screaming matches. She looked for those who swore to be there during her weakest moment only to see the illusion fade away leaving only crossed fingers, emptiness, and disappointment. She was done searching for someone, when someone did appear.  Without even thinking about it, he wiped a single tear that ran across her cheek. He wasn't her Steve, but those eyes...  "I never believed that I would have felt the way you made me feel after all those years in the ice. I owe you everything. And repaying you in the way I did... I wouldn't have forgiven me if I were you. An apology won't help, I know. For what it’s worth, you will always hold a special place" he told her in tender way that reminded her of their story and more tears found their way out. And he wiped every single one of them. She could tell from the way he hugged her when he saw her. He had kept the silent promise he had made when she was too drunk to remember what she had asked of him. Years had passed since she allowed herself to see him again. After saying a polite hello, they hugged like friends did. But then he squeezed her a little tighter right before he let go. She had almost rested her head on his chest out of habit, because it suddenly felt just like old times. She had thought she'd never be in his embrace again but there they were. They both wanted to hold on tighter but they knew they were different now. But she could tell from the way he hugged her, from the way he held on just a little longer, that somewhere, deep down...  "I missed you too" she smiled at him, a strange but very much wanted feeling of relief washing over her heart. They both knew, no one could stop loving. Once you have loved someone honestly, truly, you will never be able to un-love them. You can only find someone you will love more. At that time, your old love will not feel so strong, but it will always be in your heart, it will never let you forget something that at some point along the way made you happy.  "You hold a special place in someone else's heart too, you know" he commented like a genie. Her eyebrow arched. "Stop playing matchmaker, you old wise owl" she mocked him. At least, she could start again. He still held her face in his hands, he still held a piece of her, he would always be her first love. The bigger the love, the harder the fall. They stayed like that until Bucky walked into her office, looking for her. He narrowed his eyes suspiciously when he saw Steve holding her but he reprimanded himself almost immediately. She saw the way Steve looked up at him and she knew he wanted some alone time him. Leaving his hands was harder than she thought, smiling at all times. "Don't be a stranger, Rogers" she bid him goodbye but his eyes told her this wasn't the last time they would see each other and she found solace. She passed Bucky in her way out, smiling brightly to him, making his eyes sparkle in hope. She had just left the room when she heard Steve being completely honest.

"She is different now. I was too much of a punk to see how beautiful she really was. Her heart was beautiful, she cared so much about me and I never understood why. I don't think I treated her the way she deserves to be treated - but you do. Don't look at me like that, Bucky. I am old, not blind. I can see the way you two look at each other. Back then, her love scared me, it was so intense. I almost forgot how enticing her smile was. She just wasted so many tears on someone like me and for that I will never forgive me" he told his friend but his mind was someplace else. She smiled to herself and finally left them alone. Whatever was to come, she would face it. Finding closure had never been about forgetting. It had never been about drowning out the voices of her past or about closing her heart to memories that used to make you happy. Finding closure meant accepting a situation for what it was and moving on. It was coming to terms with the way things were and knowing that she couldn't change what had happened, but could still find growth among the broken pieces.

 _____

“I am so glad I got my heart broken. It led me to you”. ____

Taglist: @accio-rogers @coffee-with-orion @stydia-4-ever​ @smilexcaptainx​ @elliee1497​

#captain america #Steve Rogers #Bucky Barnes #Winter Soldier #tony stark #Iron Man #captain america imagine #steve rogers x reader #bucky barnes imagine #winter soldier imagine #captain america fanfiction #captain america x reader #steve rogers fanfiction #steve x reader #bucky barnes x reader #tony stark imagine #iron man imagines #The Avengers #Avengers #avengers imagine #avengers endgame

[pynkhues]

Have you already analyzed the possessiveness between Beth seeing Rio with Dylan and Rio seeing Beth with Dean in the pills episode.

I have here and there, anon, but it was a long time ago, and I’ve had a few asks along this line recently, and about possessiveness and jealousy more broadly, so hey, I hope you don’t mind me answering all of them here! :-) 

It’s interesting to talk about possessiveness in the context of this show generally, because I think the only characters who consistently demonstrate possessive behaviour and ownership over another character are Dean and, funnily enough, Annie, and that possessiveness / sense of ownership is generally exercised over Beth (and actually in both Dean and Annie’s cases, their respective kids). I think Beth as a result is somebody who’s very used to having people who feel like they’re owed her time, attention and her care, and the long history of those relationships have sort of groomed her into generally fairly one-sided relationships. In a lot of ways, it’s sort of made her a passive and reactionary participant in those relationships, which is why I think there is so much significance with Rio both encouraging and rewarding her proaction, and constantly wanting her to take the lead in their romantic / sexual encounters. 

On the whole, it’s hard to talk about whether or not Rio is somebody who is possessive, simply because we don’t see him enough to know. That said, we do know that he’s possessive over his money and his business, and I think that can bleed over into other areas. One of the things the show has touched on a few times now is that Rio’s money is always his money, even when he’s shared it with someone, someone’s been paid with it, or lost it. Putting aside the times the girls outright robbed him and the failed Canada trip in 2.10, I tend to come back to two moments. 

The first is the shutdown in S1 when Rio takes all his cash back from Beth’s house. When she confronts him in the cafe about it, she says some of it was their cut, and Rio replies that it’s his, and if he has closing costs, everyone feels the pain. The implication there is that the girls had already washed at least some, if not all of that money, and he forefeited their cut because it was all his. Earning that money doesn’t make it Beth, Annie’s and Ruby’s. Rather, it’s all his cash that he’s allowing them to have until he needs it again.  

The second is when he gives the keys to the kingdom to Beth, and a lot of money, only to promptly reclaim not only the money, but a stake in her new business when the mood strikes him. Again - the money was always his - he was just giving her access long enough to see what she’d do with it, and when she did something he liked, he decided that at least a part of that belonged to him too. 

The second is ultimately tied of course to Beth and Rio having sex, and culminating in Rio taking the crowbar to Dean’s corvette and strongarming Beth back into a professional relationship with him. 

These scenes lay a fair bit of groundwork as far as 2.06 is concerned in terms of setting up how Beth is basically returning the favour - she is Rio with the crowbar in that episode, prying his money (and his business) from his hands, and given the context of the episodes before it, I think it marks a realisation point for Rio in that Beth is basically at the centre of a Venn diagram for him - she’s money/business, she’s sex, and she’s something personal beyond that, and I think it’s that combination of factors that he’s unused to and likely triggers something in him that identifies her as his. 

She’s not just someone he works with, or fucks, or likes - she’s all of it. 

I don’t think Rio is somebody who’s used to playing second fiddle, or being ignored either, and I think Beth’s reluctance around acknowledging that anything happened between them - that she is at that centre of his Venn diagram, just like he’s at the centre of hers, makes him furious, and a degree of possessiveness flows off that. I don’t think Rio’s somebody who shares well at the best of times, but having somebody who touches so many parts of his life - and appeals to him really in such different ways - being married to somebody at all, let alone someone Rio clearly holds in such disdain, probably strikes a very tight cord.

Beth on the other hand is almost the total opposite - she’s used to being wanted (particularly by Dean and Annie), but not seen. She is exploding out of a neglectful childhood, a neglectful, toxic marriage - and if Dean isn’t the only relationship she’s ever had, he’s at the very most one of a handful, and given the flashback in 2.08, I’m inclined to think one of two or three at most - she’s not used to intimacy, she’s not used to dating, and despite everything with Dean, she’s not used to sharing in a relationship sense (I say that because Beth only found out about Dean’s cheating after they’d stopped being intimate). 

I think she wants Rio so much, but doesn’t have the tools to even begin to unpack that, so instead alternates between freezing up, robbing him, trying to impress him, outright seducing him, and just generally trying to grab and keep his attention and then shying away from the intensity of it.

Seeing Rio with Dylan I think, more than anything, embarrassed her. Beth is such a proud, image-focused person, and we know how private she is about anything intimate / relationship-y too. The fact that Annie and Ruby were in the car with her when she realised Rio was still relatively intimate with other women must’ve killed her. 

I actually don’t think Beth is a particularly possessive person - I don’t think she’s ever had enough in her life to truly feel possessive of people or things - but I think she does feel possessive of the way Rio treats her because - like I said above - he sees her. He uplifts her. He always wants her and he always wants her to want him in equal measure. I think the thought of Rio being that way with other women hurts on its own, and I think it probably hurts even more with all of her Dean-shaped baggage.

I think she left that parking lot and thought about that Venn diagram between them - the work / sex / personal one, and saw work - probably because it was easiest emotionally, but also because she knew he wouldn’t ignore it. He takes work and money too seriously for that, and she was right.

One of the other things I come back to a bit too is how immensely private Beth is about her relationship with Rio, and how much she has been since the start. God, they’ve been meeting on their own since 1.02 when Rio showed up and helped Kenny with his homework. Even after that, Beth didn’t tell Annie or Ruby about leaving him her pearls or asking for more work, or really anything subsequently. I think certainly a part of that is that Beth doesn’t want to be talked out of anything or shamed for anything, but I also think she’s drawn to Rio and is protective of what that connection is.

We haven’t seen Beth share anything about her relationship with Rio with any character - not Ruby or Annie or Dean or even Turner, despite them pressing her for information (with varied motivations, of course). 

In fact, I think it’s interesting to note that the two times Beth has been forthcoming about her relationship with Rio with outsiders have both been deliberately about underselling it with the ultimate purpose of either manipulating or hurting someone - firstly with Turner when she told him the fake story of how she and Rio met, and secondly with Dean when she said she liked having sex with him. She’s protective of it, which I think is, actually, pretty possessive too. 

The two of them would probably live in their own little bubble together if they could. Which would be a hilarious disaster because they are hilarious disasters, haha.

#beth x rio #beth boland #rio #dylan #dean boland #beth x dean #dylan x rio #catching feelings #gg 2.06 #gg 2.04 #gg 1.08 #nbc good girls #power plays #welcome to my ama #jealousy #kenny boland #parenting #annie marks #ruby hill #jimmy turner #interior lives #gg season 2

[jaa1682-27]

Violent Delights

Summary: Kia Karga, Greef’s daughter, joins Mando on a mission.

AN: First time posting a fic on Tumblr. This is also posted on my Wattpad as jaa1682. But since I am a full time Tumblr user now, might as well post them here!!  

Also, I do NOT own this GIF!!!!

Chapter 1

“Mommy! Mommy!” I screamed as my father rushed me away from the burning building that was once our home. Dead bodies laid around us as my father ran through some rubble. I thrashed around in his arms as he handed me off to a woman with pale skin, shaggy blond hair, and a worn mechanic’s uniform.

“Get her to safety, NOW!” my father barked as he pulled a blaster out of its holster.

“But, Greef-“

“NOW, Rhonona!”

Rhonona nodded and ran into a shop nearby, trying her best to shield me from debris caused by a nearby explosion.

Later that night, I tried to sleep, but I couldn’t. I tossed and turned as images of my mother, gently patting my head before locking me away in my father’s weapon closet or being dragged away by Stormtroopers, looped behind my eyes. I clutched the R2-D2 doll that my mother gave me.

Soon, a door closed and I heard voices. I recognized them as Rhonona and my father. I rustled further underneath the covers.

“You had to know this was coming, Greef,” Rhonona said aloud.

My father sighed. “I thought we would have longer, but all good things come to an end.”

“I suppose they do.”

There was a pause. “What are you going to do about your daughter?”

My father sighed. “No one but you knows the truth…I plan to keep it that way.”

I flinched at the sound of a blaster being loaded, but there was no sound that it had gone off, just silence.

“There is no need for that, Greef. I owe you my life…and my silence. Besides, I made a pledge and vowed to keep it. I promise not to tell anyone about her…or her mother. The girl has already suffered enough.”

I heard my father shuffled and put the blaster back in its holster. “We were ambushed today, Rhonona, and by the Imperial forces no less. I’m gonna have to get to the bottom of this. Someone is gonna pay for the death of my wife.”

I heard footsteps grow distant, and then they stopped. Rhonona asked, “Do you really think she’s dead?”

There was a pause.

“She’s dead to me,” my father stated before he left.

Xxx

“Kia, it’s a speeder, not a war ship. I don’t know why you made so many modifications,” Rhonona said to me as she inspected my work.

My father was none other than Greef Carga, the head of the Bounty Hunters Guild on the planet of Navarro. I had been raised in the Guild most of my life, learning and training from various fighters and pilots in the Galaxy that passed through. Rhonona Kleegan was an old friend of my late mother’s and ran her own workshop near the Guild.

Even though, she used many repair droids, she still liked to employ live beings in the shop, mainly so she have someone to talk to and some people were still sketchy about droids working on their equipment.  She and my father had realized my knack for tinkering with things when I was younger, and now at 28 years old, I was one of her best mechanics, fixing up things in her shop when I wasn’t on a job.

My father still hadn’t trusted me to handle a job on my own, so I was often hired to be a part of someone’s crew; as a mechanic, co-pilot, or sometimes just as backup. The cuts I earned were very small, not even enough for a cup of soup sometimes, but my father always chalked it up to me learning experience as well as the trust of the other members.

“It may be a speeder to you, Rhonona, but to Tee-ho, it’ll be the best present ever. He barely gets around on that thing he calls a speeder now,” I grumbled as I added new thrusters. Tee-ho and his wife, Primora, were also mechanics in Rhonona’s shop and two of my oldest and dearest friends. They were expecting their first child soon, and had gone off to make preparations for its arrival.

“How fast will it go?” she asked. Several repair droids rustled around her.

I glanced at her from underneath the bike. “Normal speed bikes travel up to 100 kilometers every 15 seconds. With my modifications, I’m guessing…probably 150 kilometers in 10.”

Rhonona laughed as I proceeded to resume my work. “You and your ‘modifications’. Everything doesn’t have to be improved all the time.”

I countered, “Just because something works, doesn’t mean it can’t be improved. Plus, I keep my modifications small. Just enough to make things easier or more efficient, but just on the line of the Republic’s modifications limits…which are stupid by the way.”

There was shuffling behind me and footsteps entered the room. “You grew up in the Outer Rim; why do you care about what the Republic does?” Primora asked as she entered with Tee-ho trailing behind. I quickly slid out from under the bike and proceeded to inch it behind Rhonona’s ship so he wouldn’t see it.

Primora was a few years older than me, and had pale skin, a round face, and big green eyes. Tee-ho had olive skin, a pointed nose, and dark curly head around his head. Tee-ho was also a large man, his hulking body towering over tiny Primora. I often wondered how Primora managed to stay upright with her large belly protruding out so much.

“I care because our clients care; at least, the ones that are allowed in the Inner Rim. And we know those are best paying ones,” I retorted once I safely hid the bike.

“She’s right. I earned 6,000 credits last week when I fixed up a client’s fuel tank and cleaned out the residue off of his ship. Turns out that guy’s brother is some Republic official,” Tee-ho added, coming to my defense.

“What modifications did you add?” I asked as I took a swig of water from my canteen.

“None. He didn’t need any,” Rhonona added.

“That’s bullshit. I saw the ship he came in. Lucky that piece of junk managed to land at all without falling into a million pieces. If I had done it, he would have had to pay me 12,000 credits just on upgrades and modifications alone…plus a set of new landing gear for an extra 500 credits,” I said aloud, calculating the costs of everything in my head.

“What if he didn’t have the credits to pay?” Primora asked me as she sat down on a nearby couch at the edge of the workshop.

“Then, I would take it all back…I probably would let him keep the landing gear, though. You know, as a way to remember me,” I answered with a sly smile.

“Hey, Kia.” Tee-ho called out for me across the workshop and he was already in position on our fighting mat. Tee-ho wasn’t a Guild member, but he was muscular and strong. He offered to start sparring with me a few years ago so that I could sharpen my fighting skills.

Rhonona had a droid help her down from the windows of the ship and programmed it to finish her work as she joined Primora on the couch.

“10 credits on Tee-ho,” Rhonona said to Primora as I took off my gloves and work vest, leaving me in a white undershirt and slim black cargo pants. I tied my short dark hair into a messy ponytail before I joined Tee-ho on the mat.

“5 credits on Kia, 5 credits on Tee-ho,” she answered.

“I only get 5?”

Primora shrugged, “I don’t doubt you, not for a second…but he is my husband so…”

“…And he’s bigger than you,” Rhonona added with a smirk.

“Thanks for the confidence,” I murmured. I knew that they weren’t being malicious about it; it was the truth. Tee-ho was twice my size and his arm muscles were bigger than my head. However, he never tried to use too much of his strength when we sparred; only enough to bruise me or throw me onto my back.

Tee-ho and I faced each other on the mat and then took fighting stances. Then, Tee-ho reached for me but I dodged his attack. He tried to strike another blow, but I dodged that too. In my training, one of the key things to remember was to keep moving, and stay on defense until you could land an offensive move.

I kept dodging his movements, intending to just tire him out. His movements began to slow and I started landing soft punches to his abdomen and chest, throwing him back a bit. Then, I sent a swift kick to his abdomen, causing him to fall on his back. He hit the mat with a loud smack, and I kissed my arms in victory, my chest swelled with pride. Rhonona and Primora congratulated me from the couch.

“Who’s worth 5 credits now?” I asked them, sticking out my tongue.

Suddenly, in less than a second, my feet were kicked out from under me and I was on my back as well. I groaned once I hit the mat.

“You are,” Tee-ho said with a laugh.

“Shit,” I groaned.

A pair of worn, brown came into my eyeline, despite them being upside down. I looked up to see the Mandalorian, my most recurring employer for the past 1 and a half, looking down at me, his shiny helmet tilted to the side.

“Never turn your back on your enemy…unless they’re already dead,” his modulated voice advised.

I closed my eyes and nodded before wiping my sweaty forehead with my arm. “Good to know.”

Tee-ho helped me to my feet and we nodded at each other before he went off to the showers in the back of the shop. I grabbed a stained rag to wipe my face. “What can I do for you, Mando?” I asked, calling him by his nickname.

He nodded for me to walk to a nearby corner, out of earshot of the others. “Picked up a new job.”

“Yeah, I got that,” I said as I took a swig of water from my canteen.

“My ship sustained some damage from the last job and it needs repairs. Your modifications…are very hard to repair.”

“Actually, they’re not if you know what to look for. But, I’m guessing, knowing you, that if you needed the ship repaired you would’ve done it yourself or brought it in. So…are you asking me to join you on this job?” I asked as I straightened up.

“Yes. However, I cannot pay you this time.”

I looked at him. Surprisingly, Mando was one of my most generous employers, often giving me almost double my pay of most of my other jobs. I chalked it up to the many repairs and modifications that I had done to his ship. Considering it was such a rare and out of date model, it was not an easy ship to upkeep either. On top of that, on the few times he had been too injured from a fight or scuffle, it was up to me to fly us out of a few unpleasant or sometimes literally, sticky situations.

“The Client is only offering direct commission and payment will be in Beskar,” He clarified.

In my readings, I had learned that Mandalorian’s valued Beskar very highly. No wonder he wanted to take this job, and pull it off; he would no doubt be earning a lot of Beskar, which was already rare to find anyways.

I shrugged, “Fine, but in lieu of payment, I’m joining you on the job.”

Mando sighed, “I don’t think-“

I held up a hand to stop him. “I can’t stay on the ship on every job, Mando. I need this. If we complete this job, I might be able to finally go out on my own. Just let me have this one.”

Another sigh, the defeated one I had learned to recognize after nearly 18 months of being in his presence. “Fine. Just don’t get in the way.”

I smiled. “Of course not. I’ll be quiet like a shadow-“

I ran into a half-hidden toolbox on a nearby shelf, causing a bunch of tools to fall out onto the floor very loudly.

The others, as well as some of the droids, turned to look in my direction. Mando shook his head at me and then said, “Meet me at the Crest in 15 minutes.”

I nodded as I tried to overcome my embarrassment. “Will do.”

#the mandalorian #mando #din djarin #greef karga #black female #original female character

[zippyreview-blog]

Zippy Review: The Worlds 1st All-In-One Interactive Viral App

Sick of buying products that gets you nowhere? You know the ones where the sales pages are filled with BS? But then you find out there’s incomplete training on how to make it online. That stops today.

I have something cool you need to check out. A brand new app that lets you leverage… First Of It’s Kind Viral Quiz App For Traffic & Sales… Interested? If yes the you need to check this Zippy Review below!

What is Zippy?

Be honest… you’ve brought a product cause the sales pages are flashy – luxury cars, yachts, vacation spots, houses… Then you discover that the products offered are complicated.

I’ve been there. I’ve learned my lesson. So today… Billy Darr offers a refreshing software that makes it possible for newbies to crush it online. This is the easiest way for anyone to start earning passively at home

First of it’s kind viral quiz app for traffic & sales…  With Zippy, you’ll work whenever you want for as long as you like. You’re in complete control. There’s been such a buzz about Billy Darr’s new software.

Others have earned loads from it. Consistent sales every week. And most of them are newbies. If you’re looking for an easy beginner friendly option to earn online. THIS is it.

You’re getting the Worlds 1st AutoPilot Viral Software that leverages viral marketing for hundreds of free viral visitors, you get the step-by-step tutorials, the quick start guide and 5 premium bonuses, worth thousands.

So how do you get ahead of the viral traffic game? Simple. Zippy is the answer. In the details, this is the first of it’s kind ultimate viral marketing software that lets you leverage the power of Quizes, Polls, Quotes and so much more!

The goal of the software is to help turn 1 visitor into 10 and 10 into 100 with power of viral marketing! Zippy is a complete solution & comes with everything you need from the software to the training & everything in between. No list, no website and no hosting is needed.

Zippy is web based which means it works on any device with a web browser. So whether that’s a Tablet, PC, Mac, Android, iPhone literally any device that has a web browser.

With Zippy, you’ll get an all in one suite that can handle just about any traffic generation task you can throw at it. Just take a look at a few of the things Zippy can do in the next parts of this Zippy Review.

Zippy Review Overview

Vendor Billy Darr

Product Zippy

Launch Date 2020-Aug-31

Launch Time 11:00 EST

Front-End Price $17

Bonuses YES, HUGE BONUS

Refund YES, 30 Days Money-Back Guarantee

Product Type Software

Support Effective Response

Official site 👉VISIT OFFICIAL SITE

Recommended Highly Recommended

Skill Level Needed All Levels

Who are the creators?

Billy Darr is a familiar name in the market recently. He is known for his excellent digital products. Some of the products that helped him succeed such as BossFunnels, Surge, Social Profit App, etc.

He always tries his best to create products that serve the needs of the user. They know him by his passion and enthusiasm for digital technology.

Recently, with the help of his colleagues Justin Opay and Dipanjan Goswami, he continued to launch a high-end digital product to serve customers.

Let’s look at the next parts of my Zippy Review to see what he has transformed into it

Features of Zippy

Einstein said: “The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over & over again and expecting different results…”

That’s why the creators have put together something totally different to what you’ve ever seen before… A solution that not only gets you traffic but a solution that converts that traffic into cold hard cash.

Because let’s face it — you can’t deposit traffic into your bank account! Now what we have for you is not just another software, it’s the ultimate package to getting results online but first let me explain why you’re still stuck.

Once you understand what’s holding you back you can break through and move forward.

Everything you need to succeed is included at an affordable 1-time price!

Brand-New Zippy Software: First-Of-It’s-Kind Beginner Friendly Software Gets You Hundreds Of Free Viral Visitors In 60 Seconds In 1-Click.

Step-By-Step Video Tutorials: The included video training teaches you EXACTLY how to convert the viral traffic you get with Zippy and turn it into unstoppable sales.

Quick Start Guide: If you don’t like going through video’s don’t worry, I have you covered with a Quick Start Guide that just shows you how to fire up Zippy to get viral traffic & sales in seconds.

LIVE Chat Support: We want to offer you to have the best experience ever with Zippy. That’s why we have live chat agents waiting to assist you should you need it.

Zippy levels the playing field for the small guy who’s just starting out. It’s designed and built for the beginner to get “viral visitors”. And you can effortlessly get viral visitors without any of the following:

No Tech Skills

No Being On Camera

No Setting Up Funnels

No Previous Experience

No Paid Advertising

No Huge Budget

With this software, you will be able to create…

Quiz: Generate results based on logic and user profile

Trivia: Create a facts list

Quote: Create a customized post to convey in insight

Poll: Create a poll and ask the users what they think

Flip card: Create a flip card, click and revel back of the card

Personality: determine personality trait based on choices made

Story: Create video based story based on facebook (post, video), twitter, flicker, gist and more

News: Create a featured content using image/gif

👉VISIT OFFICIAL SITE

Zippy Review: Is it worth your money?

So… if you know that viral traffic is the bees knees when it comes to marketing, why aren’t you doing more of it? Or even if you are using it in your marketing strategies, why are you working with so many tools to get the results you’re getting?

Did you know you’re only one click away from getting hundreds of free viral visitors in as little as 60 seconds which in turn let you enjoy sales 24/7 and live a life of total freedom?

If that sounds exciting, listen up and here’s why Billy and his team have built an incredible first of its kind software that lets you harness the power of viral marketing without any of the complicated boring tech stuff. It’s literally as easy as one click

That’s where Zippy comes into play. You’ll have a ton of tools at your fingertips that replaces most of the tools you use to get free viral visitors. There’s a ton of things that Zippy can do, (which you can see at the previous parts of this Zippy Review).

Zippy gets you hundreds of free visitors that multiply leveraging the power of viral marketing. In other words, it gets you traffic which continues to increase on autopilot. It’s literally a case of set forget and laugh to the bank. This is truly a breakthrough in the marketplace

No more fiddling about with expensive software that requires a serious learning curve. All joking aside, if you’re serious about taking your traffic to another level this year, then you owe it to yourself to get a copy of Zippy while the price is incredibly low.

From my perspective, there are several reasons why you need to grab Zippy right now.

Initially, Zippy is 100% fueled by FREE traffic. Undoubtedly, traffic is considered as the lifeblood of any online businesses. If you don’t have any traffic on your website, you don’t have anybody to convert.

But with this all-inclusive system, you would absolutely say goodbye to the days of wasting your time & money for traffic. It will help you tap into hoards of free traffic as well as prevent you from spending a lot of money on buying traffic.

Besides, the software is so SIMPLE and powerful so that ANYONE, even if you are NEW to this whole “internet software”, you can use this software and get results.

To make sure you can maximize the ability of Zippy, it offers you the detailed training that helps you discover all of the ins and outs of the system. Especially, you also get atraining that shows you how to make real money.

But that’s not all. You will be shocked when you know its price that I will tell you in the next part. The vendors offer you a gigantic discount in comparison with what it contains. Believe me, this is definitely cost-effective and worth money investment for you.

Right now however, Zippy is available at a serious discount so you’ll want to head over and check it out before the time runs out and the price goes up.

You’re probably thinking that this unique first of its kind viral software is very expensive and you’d be right to think that. Considering most life-changing software not only started around $97 but typically have a monthly fee too, so it would be fair to charge you at least $97 a month for this…

But today you won’t be paying $97/Month. You won’t even be paying $67/month, not even $47/month. When you act during the limited launch period, you won’t be paying monthly at all.

In fact they’re going to give you an amazing bargain which means today you can get in for a one-time price without any monthly fees. It’s literally less than the price of a large pizza.

And it gets better when you act now, you’ll also get five brand new premium bonuses worth thousands absolutely free.

Pricing

For a limited time, you can grab Zippy with early bird discount price in these options below. Let’s pick the best suited options for you before this special offer gone!

Front-end: Zippy ($17)

Brand-New Zippy Software – Worth $197/Month

Step-By-Step Video Tutorials – Worth $297

Quick Start Guide – Worth $197

Live Chat Support – Priceless

Bonus #1: 1K A Day LIVE Invite – Worth $1,997

Bonus #2: $268 Discount Coupon – Worth $268

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[drainflyclub]

The Limp of Corrupted Feet

I’m sitting on a wall. There is birdshit right next to me, cigarettes and gum stains all over the ground. A pigeon is at my feet, ignoring me, pecking for food. It’s feet are covered in yellow, twisting tumours, and it pathetically hops on its stumps, flapping its wings for stability, eyes wide looking for something to eat. I have just been told I didn’t get the job.

There is this warped idealism that cities seem to bring, those big cities, those creative cities. Did we all learn too much from movies and books? Was there ever really a chance your Dreams could come true by simply being somewhere different, or was it a big lie, like Cinderella or spiritual contentment? The idea is basic - live in The City, do things in The City, experience The City, love The City, let The City provide for you. A cultural and economic hub so you can live a life beyond anything your small town friends could ever imagine or comprehend. Funny, how most the people I’ve met have expressed distaste or outright white hot hate for this place. But they still live here, they still live here. 

My white shirt is now stained with sweat from sitting in a hot office all day, and from nervousness. I stink of worried energy and adrenaline. “You’ve obviously got talent…” they said. I replied all smiles and confidence and stupid fucking finger guns like some sort of 80’s movie character, moustache and all. I washed this shirt last night, soaking a pasta stain on the front and hoping it would be clean. I woke up and it was creased and damp, I hoped my body heat would unwrinkle the fabric. I can’t afford an iron. “You’ve obviously got talent but…” I was meant to come in for another day, but they made a decision in seven and a half hours and two articles. I’m relieved in a way. I only own one good shirt.

I think my own ego has brought me here, but now I’m older and my head has hardened. If I can’t do something, I hate it. There are many things I can’t do. “You just don’t have enough writing experience.” and I think, ‘I do’, but not your kind of writing. Though maybe I haven’t let my writing be judged before. Maybe I am bad. I want to write an article out of spite. I want to prove to them how wrong they are. I smile and wink and die inside. 

I find out that the job would have paid a touch over minimum wage. I factor in food and transport on the ticking calculator that runs in my head, keeping a check on my bank balance. I would probably be on minimum wage before tax and loan repayments. I have trained for 3 years and worked for 3-maybe 4 years in this industry. “You just don’t have the experience.” I think about the value of my education. I think about The City and how it was meant to make my dreams come true. I think about minimum wage. Rent. Food. Bills. Tax. I think about fighting someone, or killing myself, or buying a plane ticket and fleeing. Instead I scratch my sweat covered nose. 

I have secured myself a new job. It also pays a touch over minimum wage. I am a freelancer. In theory this means I choose my own pay and choose my own hours. I am told that they pay this rate and this rate only. I get emails at strange hours demanding I come in. I am on a zero-hours contract, but by law I am a freelancer. I earn less than my colleagues, and have less security. There are no benefits to what I do. I consider how I will end it when I reach 55 years old and can bear to work no more with no pension and no house. I consider trying to work out a higher rate of pay, but I know there are a million broken souls queueing behind me to take my place and work more for less. Last time I tried to do so I took a pay cut. I fuck up my own finances and my sanity for the sake of a job I’m told I should be lucky to have. I don’t feel lucky. 

As I walk back to my flat, I watch a woman stare at me and smile through my sunglasses. I don’t acknowledge her. She must think that I have my shit together. She doesn’t realise that this shining statuesque version of me is made of cheap marble and wood, that I’m wearing my one good shirt and wondering what it’s like to be evicted or made bankrupt. I wonder how soon I’ll experience it. I wonder how many people here are in the same boat. One has a bag from Whole Foods and steps into a brand new Jaguar. I wonder no more. In my head, I claw around trying to figure out how many days of work I need to do to make rent next month. I start to feel sick so I stop. 

I know I have to go to the Benefits Office and ask for help paying my bills, but I don’t want to. I feel like the provider. My mother once told me that what caused my dad to break down was always feeling like he had to provide. I let that thought stick for a while. What did the early tribes do when one of their hunters became lame or blind or deaf? Did they care for them or let them die in the wilderness? My rent has gone up this year. House prices are falling in my area but my landlord has a mortgage and the agency has commission to make so it goes up anyway. I can’t afford another deposit or letting fees so I let them fuck me. My contract says they won’t allow any tenants who use benefits, so I hope I can get the money put directly into my account and hide my shame. 

I look at my bank statement and feel like crying when I realise my mental calculations were off. I am poorer than I thought. I go into a shop and buy the cheapest beer I can find there, because I feel like shit and want to feel better. I look at the £1 bottles of piss-quality cider and work out how long it’ll be before I start drinking that. I pick up two four-packs of regular beer. There were times in the early days of The City where I would buy craft beers and bottles of wine like there was a shortage approaching, where I would go to bars on my day off and sit supping cold expensive pints. I’m not sure if I genuinely believed and experienced The Dream then, or if the fun has ruined my memories.

I walk and walk and walk and consider dropping everything and moving elsewhere. Maybe somewhere cheaper? Maybe a foreign country? I know I can’t. I owe the Government so much money in back taxes. I was seduced by a startup who hadn’t been corrupted by ideals like profit who actually paid me a fair wage for The City. I used my money to live like a human being. The company went bust. Now I’m poorer than ever. Now I have the burden of my past sitting forever on my back, my punishment for committing the sin of thinking I could breathe easy. I have to be in The City to earn enough to be poor. I am Prometheus, but the eagle will find no more liver.

I realise how cliche my experience is. We’re all dreamers who got hammered down by society again and again. I’m not clever or creative. I’m average. I walk through my front door and the chain is still on. The cheap door frame buckles and spits plaster everywhere. I would be worried about my deposit if I knew the several tea stains and cracked paint hadn’t already cost me over a thousand pounds of it. If I leave here I know I won’t be able to afford securing another place. I want to tear the rest of the wood off the frame and break something. Instead I work out which white lies to tell my landlord’s agency so they come and fix it without blaming me. I try to work out if I care whether they know or not anymore. 

I try to write. “You’re just not good enough.” Maybe they’re right. I’m so full of vinegar and spite and drink, I want to show them they’re wrong. I look at my half finished projects and ideas laying in the gutter. I look at my bank balance. I look at the broken door frame. I look at the dark bags under my eyes. I look at the tea stains. I look at my half empty beer. Maybe they’re right. 

I’m sitting on a wall. There is birdshit right next to me, cigarettes and gum stains all over the ground. A pigeon is at my feet. It’s feet are covered in yellow, twisting tumours. It pecks at a plastic bag filled with breadcrumbs. It’s eyes are wide as it tries and tries to get them. The breadcrumbs are inside the bag, teasing the bird through clear plastic. It can’t get to them. It tries again anyway. 

- M. M. Sheridan (2017)

#essay #writing #dreamer #adult life #depressing #work #creative industries #freelance #old writing #writer

[dancingsparks]

Don’t forget the fish

Also on Ao3

That was not good. Not good at all. Pansy was going to skin him alive and make him eat it. Or worse. Honestly, Draco should have expected something like that might happen. It was hardly the first time he forgot everything around him, caught up in some bizarre topic or other. That tended to happen rather often actually. Draco might say it came with the job, him being a journalist and all, but in reality he chose his work exactly because of this tendency. It allowed him to study anything he thought fascinating or curious and write enthusiastic articles about it. So while he was supposed to feed Pansy’s fish he had instead spent the last week in the library, buried in books and gathering facts on the mortuary cult of Ancient Egypt. Which was way more interesting than feeding some stupid fish anyway.  But Pansy had entrusted him with this responsibility, which really made the whole thing her fault if you think about it, and left for her holiday somewhere warmer and sunnier. And while he could try to distract her with delightful facts about soul and consciousness of the dead, Draco was pretty sure she would eventually notice her precious fish missing. And somehow he doubted Pansy would appreciate him shifting the blame to her.

He might be able to replace it if he had more time but Pansy was supposed to be back in only a few short hours, which left hardly any time at all to find a convincing substitute. It might be just enough time to flee the country though. But as soon as Pansy realised he’d killed her fish and cowardly fled she would undoubtedly hunt him down and it’d be worse than if he had confessed to it directly. Probably. After all, it wasn’t cold blooded murder but rather an obsession induced forgetfulness that caused the poor animals death. Draco wasn’t sure that distinction would make Pansy any less likely to murder him in return though. Maybe if he could start making amends already, to show his good will, she’d be inclined to let him redeem himself. Expressing his honest regret was surely more believable if he had flowers or something as well as his verbal assurances, wasn’t it? Even if it wasn’t, it could always serve as bribe.

Draco desperately wished for some inane social rule on what to do in this situation, some commonly accepted gesture saying “I’m deeply sorry I accidentally killed your fish. I promise I honestly didn’t mean to and will do everything in my power to make it up to you.” To his knowledge, which was quite extensive thanks to his mother insisting on its utmost importance, there was no such gesture. Ridiculous really, there were social norms for the weirdest things but of course nothing you would actually ever need. He supposed he could always ask his mother for advice, she would probably know exactly how to handle the situation. She would also be very disappointed, way too amused and just a little bit smug about it. No, better to leave his mother out of it completely. She would never let him forget it and Draco was reasonably sure Pansy would see to that already. The only thing Draco could think of presently were flowers, which was rather standard really but would have to do. Pansy would certainly be able to think of more he could do to make amends, just a subtle reminder to that one time he killed her fish and how he kind of owed her. He would have to do whatever she wanted for the next month at least.

***

The flower shop seemed to belong in one of these old paintings of sunny market places with its buckets filled with various flowers shaded by a striped marquise. Honestly how he never noticed it before was a mystery to Draco, seeing as it wasn’t far from his flat at all. Entering the shop he was immediately engulfed in that special smell that seemed reserved for flower shops only, exhilaratingly alive while simultaneously calming. Looking around he saw pots with more flowers, ready-made bouquets and other floral arrangements. It was absolutely beautiful. He was startled out of his reverie by someone who must be the shop assistant greeting him. The unexpected noise made Draco flinch as he stumbled around, causing the bloke to laugh. Wanker. Admittedly, he was an extremely good looking wanker, so maybe Draco could forgive him this once. The most noticeable thing about him were his strikingly green eyes, full of life and humour. It shouldn’t be allowed to have such expressive eyes, brimming with emotion. They should also be hidden by the glasses he wore but they only served to make them stand out more. Same with the black mess of hair. What could easily resemble a bird’s nest instead gave him a just shagged look. The look was continued with a pair of well-worn jeans that sat dangerously low on his hips. Draco quickly looked up again, trying hard not to blush. Judging by the smug smile though he was not very successful with that. Deciding to pretend he wasn’t horribly flustered he quickly pulled himself together, donning what Pansy liked to call his Malfoy-mask and moved to stand in front of the incredibly handsome man.

“I accidentally killed a fish and am now in desperate need of some flowers to stop Pansy from murdering me.” The smug grin fell from the man’s face and he was instead frowning in confusion. Irritatingly, he didn’t look any less attractive for it. Or maybe it was a good thing he didn’t. Draco certainly wasn’t going to complain. He didn’t understand the reason for the confusion though; he thought he was being perfectly clear.  He had killed a fish and therefore had to earn forgiveness to prevent his impending murder, what was not to understand there? Not allowing his own internal frown to show on his face he continued smiling patiently and watched as his request was slowly processed.

“I’m sorry, you did what?” Oh, Draco had been sure he had finally overcome whatever caused the problem but apparently not. The bloke looked incredulous and terribly amused. Draco frowned at him. “I literally just said that, I killed a fish. Is that somehow difficult to understand?” Okay, so maybe he was slightly defensive and just snapped at the man for a justified question. He supposed he had given very little information.

“Oh of course, my apologies. Just right over there is where we keep our Sorry I killed your fish assortment. Do you want a Please don’t murder me card or balloon?” Draco couldn’t help it, he laughed. Evidently the bloke wasn’t stupid after all and rather funny. Maybe the Malfoy-mask wasn’t the right approach here.

“Let’s try that again. Hi I’m Draco, pleased to meet you. I was recently entrusted with the welfare of a fish by my dear Pansy who is just now coming back from her holiday. Unfortunately I got lost in the Egyptian realm of the dead and consequently forgot all about the fish in my care. Which cost the fish his life and maybe mine as well if I can’t convince Pansy to refrain from murder and instead make me pay until the natural end of my life, trying in vain to gain forgiveness. I had hoped that a carefully chosen bouquet of flowers might reflect these intentions and thereby save my life.” He looked confused again and for a short moment Draco debated whether he should just leave and buy flowers somewhere else, when he broke out in a loud laugh. He had a really nice laugh. Draco decided to stay. For totally unrelated reasons of course. He simply had no time to search for another flower shop, convey the dire situation and be back before Pansy arrives, that’s all.

“It’s very nice to meet you Draco, I’m Harry. I am deeply distraught to hear how very near your death is and offer my services to help you avert that horrible fate.” Then he went down on one knee, pretending to be a knight of old, offering his sword in service.  Draco wasn’t sure if he was mocking his melodramatic little speech until Harry looked up at him, eyes sparkling with mischief and failing to hide a smirk. It seemed Harry had a flair for the dramatic too. Thus encouraged Draco drew himself up to his full height and tried to look imperious. “I gladly accept your service, you may rise” With Harry once again standing (was he closer than before or did he imagine that?) Draco actually had to tilt his head up a little to look into his eyes. They silently stared at each other for a moment until they were suddenly laughing again.

The following silence had the potential to become very awkward, very fast and Draco was searching for something to say when Harry cleared his throat and ran his fingers through his hair. He seemed rather flustered. “Well now that I pledged my soul to you-” here he smiled at Draco, not flustered anymore but surprisingly warm and earnest -“did you have anything specific in mind?”

“I haven’t really thought about that actually. Purple hyacinths classically express sorrow and apologies and they are quite beautiful, so these. Geranium means stupidity or folly; that might fit as well. Maybe bluebells too, they stand for humility. Hydrangea can mean thank you for understanding, if paired right. Daffodil might represent forgiveness. Why are you looking at me like that?” Harry stared at him, astonished and apparently just listening to Draco naming flowers.

That shook him out of his daze. “Nothing, just -” and he ran his fingers through his hair again, which explained the glorious mess it was in –“I wasn’t aware you knew what all those flowers meant, is all.” There was that smile again, that bright, honest smile making Draco feel warm and wanting to smile back.

“Oh, well. I don’t know all that many really. Just the major ones, I’m sure you know more than me, part of the job and all that.” Why did he have to be blushing again? It wasn’t even a real compliment, no need to blush.

“In fact, I know absolutely nothing about the Secret Languages of Flowers. And I don’t actually work here. I mean, I kind of do, but not on a permanent basis? The shop belongs to my grandma, you see. She has always wanted one, since she was a little girl she says, so when she came from India with grandpa he bought her this shop. Anyway, bottom line is, this shop here is her dream come true and she wouldn’t trust anyone not-family with it. So whenever they go on holyday or something I mind the shop for her.”

“Wait, are you saying you don’t know what a single flower in here means?” That couldn’t possibly be what Harry meant, could it? Wasn’t one required to know that when one worked in a flower shop, on a permanent basis or not? Even more importantly though, flowers are beautiful and a whole language consisting of them was simply marvellous.

“Not quite. Hyacinths mean sorrow, geranium folly and daffodil forgiveness. I did listen to you, you know.” Predictably, that made Draco’s heart beat faster than the situation warranted. It seemed even small smiles of Harry had the power to render him completely useless. He had to sternly remind himself of the marvel the Language of Flowers was and how Harry had to discover it as well. And maybe, how very much Draco would like to be the one to introduce him to it.

“That is unacceptable. I can’t allow you to live in ignorance any longer. I will have to teach you, anything else isn’t fair to the flowers.” Draco was proud to say that he sounded very determined und self-assured. He felt neither of these things. Quite the opposite, he was scared Harry wouldn’t want him to; that he would make him pay for his flowers and throw him out. But Harry smiled and this particular smile relieved all his fears.

“I would like that very much, Draco”

#my writing #drarry #Harry Potter #fluff #flower shop #flower #language of flowers

[gibsonmusicart]

The Real Reason Major Record Companies Suck

By Peter Spellman

An artist who signs a major-label recording contract today is probably taking the biggest risk of his or her career. With a mortality rate of 1 out of 10 failures, it's clearly a crapshoot whether a new major label artist will "make it" or not. The list of "where are they nows" over the last ten years runs into the thousands. This sucks! When we try and figure out why this mortality rate prevails, a number of familiar reasons present themselves: * The major labels are putting out TOO MANY RECORDS...True, but I believe this is merely a symptom of a bigger problem. * The major labels are SIGNING ARTISTS TOO INDISCRIMINATELY...Yes, but this too is symptomatic of something deeper. * The major labels are peopled with DYSFUNCTIONAL, TURF-PROTECTING CLIMBERS...True sometimes, but this too is merely a symptom. * The major labels aim for A LEAST-COMMON-DENOMINATOR MUSICAL "SOUND" that will appeal to the masses...Yes, but a symptom again. We can go on and on with possible reasons and never arrive at the REAL one. The real reason major record labels suck is that they are "divisions" within larger multi-national corporations that are obligated, BY THEIR VERY NATURE, to behave in a certain art-destroying way. Let me explain. There are certain obligatory rules by which all corporations must operate. These rules are assumed, accepted, rarely articulated and color everything a corporation does. Now don't get me wrong. There ARE music people within corporate record labels - people who are truly turned on by music creation, recording, and promotion. I know some of them. But when push comes to shove, all their actions must reflect the policies and procedures handed down from "corporate". Too much independence on their part and they will be handed a pink slip and shown the door. There are seven primary rules corporations (including music corporations) must obey, and each rule has a profound effect on how music and artists are treated, regarded and disposed of. Here they are: #1.THE PROFIT IMPERATIVE: Monetary profit is the ultimate measure of all corporate decisions. Shareholders "own" corporations and they expect the value of their shares to increase, not decrease. Forget the little old lady that owns a few shares of stock. Most shares are owned by tremendously wealthy and thus politically influential individuals and most importantly by other corporations, many of which are investment banks. All are itchy for quarterly, measurable profits. "EBIDTA" (earnings before interest, taxes, depreciation, and amortization) controls everything. Senior corporate officers are notorious for wearing "ninety-day glasses". Three months ahead is as far as most CEOs can see. This myopia often infects the entire organization, as relentless pressure to perform over the short term radiates from the top. A factory may be closed rather than modernized and an artist dropped rather than developed because the tax write-off makes the next period look better. #2.THE GROWTH IMPERATIVE: This goes hand-in-hand with the profit imperative. Profit means growth, expansion of the talent pool, expansion of the master catalog. Corporations live or die by whether they can sustain growth. Music corporations must keep on signing new artists in order to use their vast infrastructures and justify their overhead expenses. Sometimes company growth doesn't happen fast enough to suit the ambitions, however, and sometimes it doesn't happen at all. What to do then? The power-hungry CEO's typical solution is to expand by acquiring another company. Growth by acquisition has been the modus operandi of the corporate music business since the 1970s. EMI is a case in point. By acquiring such hot labels as Virgin and Chrysalis and bringing its antiquated operations up to snuff, EMI for a while seemed headed to the top. But chairman Sir Colin Southgate also pressured his executives to maintain double-digit growth, first in good times, then in the face of a rapidly deteriorating market. They responded by pumping out quick-buck anthologies and slashing costs willy-nilly when they could have been building talent for the long haul. Managed for short-term results, EMI has literally consumed itself in pursuit of its numbers. The profit and growth imperatives are the most fundamental corporate drives; together they represent the corporation's instinct "to live." #3.COMPETITION AND AGGRESSION: Corporations place every person in management in fierce competition with each other. Anyone interested in a corporate career must hone his or her ability to seize the moment. This applies to gain an edge over another company or over a colleague within the company. All divisions of the record company are attempting to represent themselves as an indispensable component of the recording industry. The day-to-day work of dealing predominantly with one specific medium, whether the music, the image in the video, radio media, or the press, tends to result in different staff assessing the potential of artists in different ways and developing their own agendas and goals rather than working towards a shared overall vision. As a label employee, you are expected to be part of a "team," but you also must be ready to climb over your own colleagues when an opportunity presents itself. Turf battles and other "family dysfunctions" are "normal" elements in the corporate game. #4.AMORALITY: Not being human, corporations do not have altruistic goals. In fact, corporate executives praise "nonemotional" as a basis for "objective" decision-making. So decisions that may be antithetical to aesthetic goals or artistic integrity are made without misgivings. Corporations, however, seek to hide their amorality and attempt to act as if they were altruistic. Lately, for example, there has been a concerted effort by the American industry to appear concerned with environmental cleanup, community arts or drug programs. Similarly, major labels are starting to once again toss around the phrase "long-term artist development" as an antidote to the perception they are short-sighted. But this can only be rhetorical in a corporate setting where quarterly results rule the environment. Product (and its creators) not bringing in the necessary numbers will continue to be dropped like a bad habit. Don't be deceived! It is a fair rule of thumb that corporations tend to advertise the very qualities they do not have in order to allay negative public perceptions. When corporations say "we care," it is almost always in response to the widespread perception that they do not have feelings or morals. #5.HIERARCHY: Corporate laws require that corporations be structured into classes of superiors and subordinates within a centralized pyramidal structure: chairman, directors, chief executive officer, VPs, division managers, and so on (based primarily on military models). Unlike the freedoms of an entrepreneurial business, large company decision-making must pass through layer upon layer of management. This makes the process of product development slow and ponderous. For example, from the time a band is signed, it can be a full year or longer before their first record is finally released owing in part to this dense hierarchical management structure. A lot can change in a year. Furthermore, high executive turnover and frequent management "purges" at large record companies can often delay or even derail a recording project indefinitely, leaving artists in the lurch. #6.QUANTIFICATION: Corporations require that subjective information be translated into objective form, i.e. numbers. The subjective or spiritual aspects of music, for example, cannot be translated, and so do not enter corporate equations. Music is evaluated only as a "product." Some in the industry would prefer to treat music like other industries treat cars and refrigerators. But music cannot be treated as such. As the creative extensions of the human spirit, music will always defy attempts at control. Indeed, just when the majors catch up with a "new" music trend they often find that the market has shifted and music lovers have moved on to something else. #7.HOMOGENIZATION: Corporations have a stake in all of us living our lives in a similar manner. The ultimate goal of corporate multinationals was expressed in a chilling statement by the president of Nabisco Corporation: "One world of homogeneous consumption. . . [I am] looking forward to the day when Arabs and Americans, Latinos and Scandinavians, will be munching Ritz crackers as enthusiastically as they already drink Coke or brush their teeth with Colgate." Corporations are structured and optimized for the "mass market" and so what they sell must appeal to the broadest audience possible. Their musical mainstay has been CHR (Contemporary Hit Radio or Top 40 Pop) - predictable, non-adventurous, formulaic. They have dominated the airwaves and circled the globe with this musical pablum. Incidentally, homogenization is one of the reasons the corporate music business (along with most other corporations) is in such a crisis today. It is facing a rapidly segmenting marketplace where consumers have become unpredictable. It always depended on "The Next Big Thing" to flush its corporate ledgers. But the very concept of one artist who can unite a large pop audience and help shape and define it (ala Elvis, The Beatles, Springsteen) seems about as dead as the 45-rpm spindle. Next Big Thing? More like "Next Modest Thing That Might Appeal to a Portion of the Demographic". But while bad news for the corporate giants, this is good news for their indie counterparts. A number of indie labels specializing in "niche" music markets (hip hop, ambient, folk, Celtic, etc.) are grabbing market share almost daily and breaking open a lot of champagne these days. So in conclusion, let us remember that the Musical Industrial Complex must, by necessity, bow to corporate imperatives that will inevitably clash with art. It's nobody's fault; it's the nature of corporate cultures, and any artist desiring to get into bed with this culture should proceed with eyes wide open. Your partner could be your nemesis.

Source: Music-Articles.com

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