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avionvadion · 4 years

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Just a quick sketch. The thought popped in my brain when I was outlining and it was like- frick, that’d be cute.

Story snippet below

I flinched at another sound of the sky roaring. Rain pounded hard against the walls of Ramshackle, almost threatening to break down what was left of this poor building. I always said it would give way during a strong enough storm; I just hoped this one wasn’t it. Oooh, please no. I yawned, eyeing the clock on the wall with distaste.

It was way past midnight now. Even though I knew sleep wasn’t something I should want, what with the curse still existing within me, not being able to rest was awful. Even more so when every single clap of thunder left you anxious and constantly looking over your shoulder.

I wasn’t even that scared of it. I think I was just more worried that lightning would strike a tree and send it crashing down onto the building, coincidentally right where this room was, and would kill me and my cat monster companion instantly. Grim didn’t seem to care at all- snoozing away on the broken down mattress.

Unable to handle much more of this I stood up, needing to get rid of this negative energy. I carefully left the room and headed down the stairs, pacing around the lounge and rubbing my arms, telling myself it was fine. The storm started shortly after school hours and I was too nervous to change into my pajamas, just in case I had to pick up Grim and make a run for it to Heartslabyul for safety.

Where did it even come from? I grumbled under my breath, shivering as I felt a cold draft enter. Frick- did one the boards come loose? The wind was blowing pretty hard out there; the rain itself sounded like hammers against the walls. I walked over and flinched as the thunder clapped again, before taking a deep shaky breath and trying to figure out what was wrong.

That was when I saw it- or rather him- from the windows. It was the fireflies that gave him away, always shining so brightly in the darkness of the night. I honestly thought it only made him look more mysterious and charming. Frick. Okay- calm down. Focus.

Wait. Why is he outside? Oh gods, more thunder is-

I swear my heart almost stopped when I saw the amount of lightning that flashed across the sky. While beautiful, it was also daunting, and I found hurrying to open the front door. “A-Are you insane!?” I wheezed, shouting as loud as I could to be heard over the crazy downpour.

Mr. Horns turned, chartreuse eyes seeming to glow brighter than usual. His clothes and hair were soaked, but he didn’t appear to care at all. I yelped and ducked my head down at another clap of thunder before waving at him.

“Get in here! You’ll get struck!”

The fireflies seemed to double in intensity and number, and after a moment that felt like an eternity the man finally started to move, walking at such an agonizingly slow pace I grew impatient and panicked, rushing out there barefoot- not caring if I got soaked so long as my friend was safe.

“Faster! C’mon!” I grabbed his arm, tugging him along with me to the door. “Jeez! I-It’s freezing out!”

I shivered, slamming the door shut with my back against it. Mr. Horns stood there silent, not saying a word as the storm continued to rage. Coughing and rubbing my arms once more to try and get warm, I looked at the taller fae incredulously.

“You- just- oh my gosh, okay. Just- take you coat off there, alright? I’ll go get a towel.”

And so I did. The ghosts were a little surprised to see me fully dressed at this time of night, but I waved them off and grabbed what I needed. Then I headed back downstairs, nearly stumbling over my own feet and falling down the stairs when I saw that the rain had soaked through Mr. Horn’s jacket, leaving his white uniform shirt partially see-through, the fabric sticking close to his muscular form.

Holy shit.

Nope. No. Calm down. Oh gods, he rolled his sleeves up. Breathe, girl. There was really something about rolled up sleeves that got to me, and my obvious affection and attraction towards Mr. Horns only made it worse. As much as I hated it sometimes, I was really grateful for how oblivious he could be.

Swallowing down the lump in my throat, something that definitely wasn’t a cursed rose petal, I awkwardly continued down the stairs and headed over, standing in front of him with as stern an expression my flustered self could muster. I held the towel up with both hands, intent clear by the way I was doing so.

“Lean down and I can dry your hair.”

Kneeling would work better, actually. To my surprise, instead of offering one of his usual arrogant smirks and making a cheeky comment, the man followed my instructions without complaint or amusement. Overall he seemed... bothered by something? I frowned, worrying my bottom lip as I stood on my toes and wrapped the towel around the back of his head, carefully avoiding his horns.

It wasn’t easy, but I think I figured out how to dry his hair.

Now about this silence...

Mr. Horns wasn’t one to talk about his problems, so I normally had to guess and go from there. Yet something seemed different this time- a quiet sort of rage that far surpassed his usual signs of anger. I had a feeling it went deeper than not being invited to something this time.

So, not knowing what else to do, the idiot that I am began to scold him. “Are you trying to make yourself sick?” I questioned, staring at him intently as I tried to discern what was wrong. His eyes bore into mine, full of emotion that his facial features did not convey. “Don’t just stand out in the rain like that! It’s storming out! You could have gotten hit by lightning or something!”

No response. I inhaled sharply when I felt his hands rest on my waist, very much not used to such intimate contact, body very nearly jolting at the sudden touch. I wiped some of the rain water off his face with the towel, ignoring the way my heart picked up pace, especially as the quietly bubbling anger in his eyes softened into something warmer and more gentle.

“You... You had me worried, you know?” My voice shook a little, a bit of vulnerability making itself known as I forced myself to admit how concerned I was. “I know you’re some powerful immortal fae, but I’m pretty sure even you would get... hurt if you got zapped by lightning. So...”

I blinked a couple times, patting gently at his horns with the towel to soak the water up. The way we had to stand for me to do this left his face more than a little close to mine, our noses almost touching. I could feel his warm breath brushing my skin.

“Yeah.” Towel falling back around his neck, I loosed my hold and stood back on the palms of my feet. It was seriously cold in here, but my face was as warm as could be. Due to our height difference I easily caught sight of the way his collar was unbuttoned, leaving his neck and part of his chest exposed. I made my eyes flick up to his face quickly. “Don’t... do that. I-I quite like you living, you know.”

Mr. Horns watched as I pulled out of his hold, my arms folding across my chest as I looked away stubbornly. I seriously hated the things this person made me feel. Out of the corner of my eyes, I saw him raise the towel up to his face, the majority of it still wrapped around his shoulders. The fae closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, shoulders starting to relax.

Straightening to his full height, he lowered the towel from his face and focused his attention on me with a solemn smile. “My deepest apologies. I did not intend to cause you concern. Please, forgive me... my darling little human.”

That-!

My face became even warmer, eyes wide as can be at the affectionate term. It never failed to make my heart stutter or turn me red as a beet, and seeing my reaction the man chuckled, the sound low and beautiful in nature, though to others I knew it would appear quite sinister.

I worried my bottom lip again, glancing awkwardly to the side and up at him- who still looked so breathtaking- before fiddling with my sleeves and mumbling, “You know you’re forgiven. You always are...”

His smile only seemed to become more sad at that, despite the tenderness his gaze held. “Indeed, it seems to be so. I remember not a single time when you’ve held a grudge against me. I almost dread the day.”

A part of me wanted to laugh at that, but I resisted. When I saw how sad he looked when he said that it was hard to joke. Mr. Horns was being serious. He really did dread the day I would harbor a grudge. And... seeing that I found my racing heart ache, nearly breaking at just how truly lonely he was.

“Hey.”

He hummed quietly, not protesting or moving as I stood in front of him and grabbed his hands. Brown met chartreuse and I smiled softly. I didn’t even notice how the storm outside had calmed down tremendously, rain more like tiny pebbles compared to before.

“It’s okay.” Whatever was bothering him, that left him this upset- I was here. “I’m not scared of you and I’m never going to be. You’re my friend, remember?”

I squeezed his hands gently, and ignored the thump in my chest when he squeezed back.

“You’re Mr. Horns.”

Ah- there it was. His eyes flashed with an emotion I couldn’t identify and he seemed to brighten. He had taken his gloves off earlier, so I could feel how cold his skin truly was, and even see his black-painted nails. His long fingers curled around mine, and my eyes went wide when he raised my hands up to his face- pressing my palms to his cheeks.

“Yes...” He murmured, lashes fluttering as he closed his eyes. “To you, that is who I am. My darling little human... Eleanora Quince.”

#OKAY SO I WOULD WRITE MORE BUT I GOTTA BE UP EARLY #twst #twisted wonderland #malleus draconia #malleora #oc #mc #yuu #eleanora quince #fanfic #once upon a dream #sketch #I wrote this in one setting so there might be quite a few typos #I apologize but hopefully you guys enjoy this tidbit until chapter 22 #I have no idea when this would take place- maybe after Savanaclaw arc?#twst malleus #some soft malleus and eleanora content

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ffwriterbts · 3 years

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Lunar- BTS Werewolf AU Part 2

AN: As I’ve said before, if slowburn BTS werewolf AUs that have springlings of angst, smut, and fluff, this is the story for you! Other than that, please leave a like or comment so I know you’re enjoying the story!! I’m also looking for a beta reader or two for this story, if you’re interested in that! Just shoot me a message or leave a comment and I’ll get in touch!

Word Count: 2455

Warnings: None

Posted: 12 Dec 2020

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Eventually YN fell asleep, but she couldn’t remember when. When she woke up, however, she was laying down, with the wolf’s massive head resting on her stomach. Absently, she strokes the soft fur around his ears, sighing and curling into the blanket. She can’t help but love the feeling of it between her fingers, smiling to herself as she thinks semi-clearly about the events of the night for the first time.

YN is completely shocked by the events thinking about them now. This giant wolf not only understands her, but he talks back. He was comfortable in her home, the doors were big enough to take him in easily, and he was oddly sweet, in making her finish the chicken. And to top it all off, he was severely injured! Taking a quick glance at the bandages, YN has a passing wonder as to how much healing the wolf had done overnight.

Quite suddenly, the wolf lets out a short growl, and YN jumps. The massive head lifts, looking her in the eye, her hand still tangled in the fur behind his ears. It seems like forever that the two stare at each other, eyes locked, but it couldn’t have been more than a few seconds.

He breaks the intense eye contact, turning his great head and yawning before standing. YN watches in awe as the wolf stretches, careful of his injury, before he turns back to look at her expectantly.

‘Eat?’

The voice, low and clear and much less pained, startles the girl into motion.

“Yes of course, let me make you some meat. How’s beef sound? I’ve still got a lot of that in the fridge.” YN stands, quickly clearing the blankets and pillow from the ground. Hearing no clear objections, YN heads into the kitchen, ready to prepare enough food to feed an army.

She doesn’t pay too much attention to where the wolf is or what he is doing, but she can feel his eyes following her from one place to the other, and she can feel the draft from the door that he had nudged open. Quietly, she explains what she’s doing to the wolf, wanting him to be comfortable.

She couldn’t have explained why she felt the need to tell the wolf everything she was doing, but for some reason she felt that it was important that this wolf trusted her.

It is because of this that YN is in the middle of explaining why she prefers to use one seasoning brand over the other when the wolf lets out an ear-shatteringly loud howl. She flinches so hard she almost spills the cooking meat, hands flying to cover her sensitive ears as she whips around to find where the wolf is and what he’s doing.

The great wolf, his beautiful black coat shining in the morning light, is standing just outside her back door, eyes gliding over the trees as he lets out another howl, his face turning up to the sky. He looks like he is waiting for a response, and YN can tell that he got one when his head snaps sharply to the left of the small path YN loved to take.

Quite suddenly, the wolf turns around, padding back into the house and partially shutting the door behind him. He leaves enough room that he could stick his nose or paw into the crack and open it if he needed to, giving himself an out. YN lets out a breath she didn’t know she was holding when the wolf returns to lazily lying in a patch of sun in the kitchen, his attention fully on YN and her movements while she makes the food. For whatever reason, she didn’t want the wolf to leave just yet.

~~~

The rest of the morning and the afternoon go well, with no hitches or startles. YN quickly falls into the habit of telling the wolf all the things she’s doing, not wanting him to be startled by anything she’s doing, and the wolf just watches her, not reacting much to what she does, and instead occasionally bumping his head into her hand for a light scratch behind the ears.

When YN changed his bandage after they ate, she was shocked to see how much he had healed. While the wound was still clearly very tender, it looked like it had been healing for weeks or months instead of just a few hours. YN shook it off, deciding that it was just some strange ability this even stranger wolf had. It had been shown to her clearly before this point that he was special in more ways than one, so why not have accelerated healing?

After the bandages were changed, and YN told the wolf just how well he was healing, the pair went back into the living area. YN took a seat on the lovely leather couch her uncle had left her, taking her usual seat and telling the wolf that he could come up if he wanted and was able. With a small noise that YN couldn’t place, the wolf clambered onto the sofa, laying his great head in her lap again.

Without a second thought, YN turns on the TV and absently begins to stroke the fur around the wolf’s ears, relaxing at the repetitive motion and mindless noise. Together, they sit like that for a few hours, both of them resting and healing and mulling over the events that had happened to both of them.

~~~

There they stayed, for a long while, both half asleep and mulling over the events of the past 24 hours. YN was slowly coming to terms with everything that had been happening around her, with all of the weird things this strange, inky wolf could do. Absently, she wondered what else the wolf could do, and if the fanciful bedtime stories her uncle used to tell her were actually true.

The wolf seemed to be resting peacefully, seemingly completely unaware of the turmoil swirling around in YN’s head. The wolf was just waiting, wondering when the rest of his pack would get there, and what the determination about YN would be. He knew that, despite his growing fondness for the strange human, if the rest of the pack didn’t share his liking for her, he would be forced to do things he would rather not do.

When the door bursts open, YN might as well have jumped completely out of her skin. When before there was relative silence and peace, the room now had an unknown number of bodies snarling and pawing around. YN was understandably terrified, not having any idea as to what was going on or how that would affect her.

The black wolf that she had been sharing her home with for the past day rose to his feet, eyeing up the other wolves that had entered the room. YN could feel the tension as the black wolf snarled, snapping as the other wolves did the same. All she could think about were the sharp, gleaming teeth and huge bodies around her in a way that was almost suffocating.

Fear was rolling off the girl in waves, to the point that the wolves all were put on edge, looking for a threat deserving of that great amount of terror.

It takes a couple minutes, but eventually all the bodies in the room calm down. YN gets off the couch and heads towards the kitchen, giving herself the illusion of an escape that puts her mind at ease. At this point, she is able to see that a beautiful grey wolf and two light brown wolves have joined the black wolf she had opened her home to.

Her living area is filled with the sounds of the wolves “talking” to each other, which YN decides not to break until there is a reason to.

‘Who are you?’

Once again, the voice is directly in YN’s head, but this time it isn’t the black wolf. It seems to be coming from the grey wolf, but YN couldn’t be sure of that.

“I’m YN, I moved in a few months ago. My uncle left me the house when he passed.” She answers simply, eyes flitting between the new wolves as “her” wolf comes to stand beside her. There seems to be some sort of silent communication going on between them that YN isn’t privy to, though she feels that it’s important for some reason she can’t place her finger on.

‘Niece? Good.’

The same voice is in her head, and the fierce look in the eyes of the wolves fades into a softer, more general one. YN is confused by the statement, and the actions, remaining on edge, awkwardly shifting on her feet.

“So, uh, do you guys want some of the beef I made earlier? I don’t know how far you guys have gone or have yet to go but food’s always a good idea, right?” YN can feel her ears burning with an unknown embarrassment, as she looks between all of the wolves before her.

One of the light brown wolves yelps and heads towards YN, who puts her hands up on instinct, fear rising in her chest that she was going to be the one on the menu. Instead of attacking her through, the massive animal licks her palms, yelping some more as the word ‘eat’ is exclaimed into her mind.

Letting out a little giggle and petting the massive head before her, YN is put more at ease, smiling as she turns and walks into the kitchen properly.

“Well, I’m not quite sure how I’ll do this, because I only have one of these big bowls and there are four of you here, but I’ll figure it out.” YN muses to herself, again telling the wolves everything she’s doing so they don’t think she’s up to something, completely unaware of the fact that each and every one of the wolves in her home can read every one of her thoughts with complete and utter ease.

“Oh! I have a baking sheet! I can just put it on there and you guys can share, yeah?” YN asks, dropping to her knees to rustle through a cabinet and find the baking sheet in question. Hearing no complaints, YN prepares the meat for the wolves, placing it carefully on the floor, holding onto one corner so it wouldn’t slide around on them. The two brown wolves quickly move to take tentative bites, the more playful of the two occasionally tossing his head over towards YN to receive a few scratches before returning to his eating.

Once they finish, YN takes and dutifully cleans all the dishes she had made that day, ears straining to make sure she wouldn’t be attacked from behind, but yet trusting them enough to turn her back to them. She sings softly as she works, playful kid songs that she used to sing with her grandparents as she did her chores, inadvertently playing those loving memories for the wolves in her room as she does so.

By the time she has finished with her chores, she turns to find the black wolf asleep directly behind her in a nice patch of sun, the grey wolf is carefully watching her actions from the corner of the room, and the two brown wolves laying further away, also having found nice patches of sun to lay in. YN smiles to herself, finding the sight of the wolves lounging in her space oddly sweet, before stepping over the black wolf, crouching down beside the great beast, giving him a few soft pets to partially rouse him, waiting for his eyes to open before letting him know that she would be checking his wounds and changing his bandages.

She could feel the shift in tone as the great wolf let out a bit of a whine as the bandages come off, the others perking up a bit to watch what YN was doing, immediately ready to jump to his defense if she were to try to hurt the wounded wolf any more.

Weary of the eyes on her, YN sets about making sure that she has everything she needs to clean the wound and change the bandages with as little pain to the wolf as possible.

“Alright wolf, this is the part that stings, I’m so sorry.” She mutters under her breath as she does what has to be done, impressed by the amount of healing that’s been done already.

“At this rate, you’ll be good to go by late tonight or early tomorrow morning.” YN sighs, taking the old bandages and throwing them out, before turning towards the wolves again.

Checking the time, YN shakes her head and explains to the wolves that she is going to go to the study and write, as that’s what she usually does during this time, and that they are welcome to come with her if they want to. Turning on her heel, she heads towards the study on the second floor, fully expecting the wolves to either leave, or to just stay where they were. She really did have work to get done, regardless of the strange wolves that seemed way too comfortable in her space. Deadlines were deadlines, and she really didn’t want to have to crunch out a crap chapter for her editor, regardless of everything going on around her.

What YN didn’t expect was for the black wolf to follow right behind her, limping slightly as he goes, but following nonetheless. Or for the two brown wolves to half-bark at each other, following behind their inky counterpart much more playfully, bumping into each other in a way that YN would have said must have been painful. Or for the grey wolf to follow behind them, much more somber than the duo in front of him, moving smoothly and surprisingly silently through the house.

“You do know there’s no sun to lay in, the study is the innermost room. Please don’t mess anything up, if you can help it, the study is my private place, really.” YN speaks much softer than she had been, causing the wolves to pay more attention to her words than before, feeling the importance of them.

She opens the door, smiling to herself at the sight of the beautiful old books, the scattered journals, the overstuffed-and-ancient chairs, the slightly dusty paintings on the walls from artists YN couldn’t hope to know, the soft lighting, everything. It was comforting, but packed full of memories, some of which were still too painful and fresh to think of.

YN heads over to the giant desk, opening her laptop and settling into the seat. She was aware of the four pairs of eyes that followed her movements, and she similarly followed theirs as they each found areas to curl up in. The grey wolf stayed by the door, facing it as if to make sure nobody tried to come in. The two brown wolves circled around the room a bit, before settling down by the overstuffed couch against one of the walls, both of them moving around periodically. Something in the back of YN’s mind told her that they were young, restless in a way that gave away their age.

It was the black wolf, however, that captured most of YN’s attention. He decided to place himself directly behind the huge desk chair, similarly positioned to the grey wolf, in the way that he seemed to be there for some sort of protection. She thought it was strange, the way these giant wolves were being so gentle, so protective.

They settle in like that, with YN quickly getting immersed in the chapter she needed to finish, words flowing out of her in a way that made her feel almost buzzed. She loved that feeling- the feeling of creating, of making something out of nothing and breathing life into something so dead as a piece of paper or a computer screen.

The whole scene was peaceful, in her opinion. She felt protected, she had ideas flowing out of her, and despite the fact the desk and it’s accompanying chair were both way too big for her and a little uncomfortable, she absolutely adored the study and all it had to offer. For whatever reason, it felt to her like home- the wolves in her space, the ideas, the old-artsy style of the room, all of it.

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trellanyx · 3 years

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your jonathan crane (who i love so very much) and numbers 1 through... oh, lets say 25 ;)

(Send me a character and a number)

Have I told you how much I love you lately, Lizard? Because I do. Oh yes I do. 😂

Word vomiting about my Jon in 3, 2, 1...

1) Something this character is truly proud of.

His work, of course. Not just the toxin, but the breadth of his knowledge, his experiments, his successes and vengeances. Jonathan is an expert in his field, and considering what he went through to get there he’s damn proud of it.

2) Who they want to please the most.

Jonathan Crane does not give a single solitary fuck about what anyone thinks of him. The only satisfaction he cares about is his own. Considering how high his standards are, that’s a big enough challenge already.

3) Who depends on them.

No one. Jon may make you think you need him if that serves his end goal, but other than that he keeps his distance. If you’re in a position where you actually depend on Jonathan Crane’s services, you’re fucked.

4) What they would do if they had one month to live.

Work feverishly to A) preserve his work and B) push it as far as it can go before his body betrays him. Jon would be pulling such long, intense hours that it’s quite possible he’d drop dead before the month was up from sheer exhaustion. If he doesn’t, then he takes his magnum opus and goes out with a hell of a bang.

5) A cherished personal belonging.

Nothing. He has things he likes more than most: a tortoiseshell watch, a spring-loaded gun, his sturdiest boots, his sharpest scythe - the whole fear gauntlet, actually, impractical as it was - but nothing he’d go as far as to say he cherishes. Everything Jon owns is expendable, and no matter how attached he might be to something, there’s nothing he wouldn’t chuck in a fire instantly if he needed to.

6) Something they lost, but would love to have back.

“Unlimited access to test subjects wrapped in a stable paycheck. Arkham’s much more fun on the other side of the straitjacket.”

7) This character’s favorite character

I give up. It’s been days. Days that this post has sat in my drafts while I tried to think of this asshole’s favorite character, and I’ve got nothing. I’ve come up with a couple of disparate headcanons involving Jon and fiction in general, but I have no answer for this one. I offer this as a placeholder: “He doesn’t have any because he’s a contrary and insufferable bastard.”

8) What kind of car they would drive.

Dark, boring, older than sin. The gas pedal is the most abused piece of equipment in South Gotham. There’s a stain on the backseat floor that Jon says is coffee, and no one is brave enough to question him. Edward refuses to be seen dead in it. One day Jon’s gonna take that as a challenge.

9) What calms them when they are upset.

It really depends on the type of distress that it is. The basic scale is this:

Drumming his nails against things, or just tapping against the nearest flat surface if his nails aren’t long enough. (Common response to most grievances.)

Stepping outside for a smoke. He goes back inside when he either feels better or runs out of cigarettes.

Pacing inside or stalking through the streets like he’s on his way to kill somebody, taking small, petty pleasure watching people jump out of his way.

Stewing in a corner with a bottle of strong alcohol.

Actually killing somebody.

10) How they deal with pain.

Grits his teeth and bears it. The first lesson he ever learned.

11) This character’s favorite piece or pieces of clothing.

As Scarecrow: His plague doctor mask, which replaced the traditional burlap after he stopped being able to feel fear.

As Jon: Custom winter gloves with longer fingers to accommodate his nails in the winter.

12) How they sleep.

I’ve talked about this before, actually! Here’s the quote:

Since he suffers from chronic insomnia and chronic I Have No Idea What Healthy Habits Look Like, Jonathan doesn’t go to bed very often. He’s more likely to pass out wherever he is - couch, desk, once on a morgue slab (don’t ask)… But when he does sleep in a bed, he tosses and turns a ridiculous amount. It’s not that he’s having nightmares (though with the way he moves, how could you tell), he just has a hard time getting comfortable. He’ll turn over at least 3-6 times before falling asleep, and he’ll keep shifting even after he does. It’s very common for Jonathan to fall asleep with three blankets and wake up with only one.

13) What kind of parent they would be.

*hysterical laughter* NO.

14) How they did in school.

He struggled with it a lot. Not because of a lack of intelligence or drive, but because:

Constant undernourishment and late night punishments made it difficult for Jon to stay awake in class. (His insomnia didn’t develop until he was in his early 20s.)

His homework was often late or mediocre because Jon did it after being beaten or kept busy with his grandmother’s laborious demands, if he was in a state to do it at all.

Jon’s glasses were almost never up to date. Constant squinting compounded by what Jon now knows were chronic migraines made class not only difficult to concentrate on, but physically painful.

Bullying. I don’t think I need to elaborate there.

Jon barely eked out a GPA high enough to get him into a local community college with the help of a scholarship targeted toward low-income families. Once his grandmother and bullies “helpfully” left the picture and Jon could focus on eliminating the obstacles above, he threw himself into his studies like a man possessed, and by the time he graduated, he’d secured himself entry to a post-baccalaureate program in Gotham. He used that as a stepping stone to med school and the rest is history.

15) What cologne or perfume they would use.

Jon doesn’t like either. His only indulgence in the smell department is almond-scented soap.

16) Their sexuality.

It varies depending on what version of him I’m playing, but it’s always either bi or gay.

17) What they’d sing at karaoke.

Something slow, creepy and mournful, probably not even on the set list, while he stares at you unblinking and makes you regret every decision in your life that helped force him onstage. You don’t ask for an encore.

18) Special talents they have.

Jon is double-jointed, a great whistler, sews all his costumes and is an adequate mechanic. See the “should be dead twelve times over” car he still drives. He’s also a better swimmer than people give him credit for, something that’s saved his life more than once.

19) When they feel safest.

In front of a fireplace. Jon can’t really explain it, nor does it make sense considering how much he hates heat in general. But there’s something about sitting in front of a fire that really relaxes him. (Don’t bother with the scarecrow/fire jokes, he’s heard them all.)

20) Household chore they hate the most.

Bathrooms.

21) Their fondest childhood memory.

“Killing them.”

22) How they spend their money.

Books, chemicals, caffeine, alcohol, weapons. And then living essentials. Maybe. Depends on how low he is on nicotine. (Jon’s spending habits are so predictable it became a running joke on campus, what did you expect.)

23) What kind of alcohol they drink.

He’s not picky, but nothing beats a finely aged whiskey. He’s also partial to Black Russians.

24) What they wish they could change about themselves.

Useful as it can be, Jon regrets the loss of his ability to feel fear. He also wishes he didn’t get migraines so often. Nothing on the personality front, though: Jon knows what he is.

25) What other people wish they could change about them.

Oh honey, there’s not enough hours in the day to list all that.

#lizard-hair #batman #jonathan crane #my headcanons #ask #i hope it was worth the wait bb #again THANK YOU #i could talk about my version of this asshole all day long

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daisylincs · 3 years

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Author Interview Tag

Tagged By: so, long story short... these tags happened right as I was getting super busy with end-of-the-year-craziness, and I completely didn't see them until I was re-scrolling through all my mentions on Tumblr recently. So the people who initially tagged me have probably forgotten they even did (🤣😬🤦‍♀️) but my my count, they would be: @loved-the-stars-too-fondly, @libbyweasley, @aleksandrachaev, and @everythingirl44. Thank you very much indeed, all of you!! This looks like an absolutely amazing challenge, late as I may be to it.

Name: Lily

Fandom(s): Agents of SHIELD (TV) and Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)

Where You Post: AO3, and the occasional drabble/prompt fill to Tumblr - which, upon consideration, I should probably collect on AO3 🤔

Most Popular Oneshot: for Spideychelle, and overall too, apparently it's my, my, just how much I missed you, my surprisingly angsty (but with a hopeful ending) ten-years-post-FFH fic for Day 4 of Spideychelle Week.

For AoS, it's time can break your heart, have you begging please which, to be entirely 100% honest with you, I completely forgot I wrote in the first place 🤣🙈 It's post-7x10 angst on... that 7x10 and very spoilery death, with some Dousy hurt/comfort. Apparently, Dousy hurt/comfort is the rage, so... that's cool, I suppose.

Most Popular Multichapter Fic: just a few weeks ago, I would have responded with something like, "multichap? Me? As if 😳😅" But now... well, I'm actually posting my first multi-chapter fic later today, so we'll see how that goes!!

Favourite Story You've Written So Far: oh, gosh, that's a really, really hard one!! I've really, really enjoyed almost everything I've written, so picking is going to be very tough cookies xD

For AoS, I think I'm going to go for take my hand, take my whole life too, which is one of the first few things I wrote, but still holds a very special place in my heart, because I felt that it was a fic I could really be proud of, you know? Plus, it made me feel ridiculously soft and shippy-happy throughout the writing process. Plus plus, it has an absolutely stunning banner created by the amazing @ughfitz, which still touches me a lot, because I'd never had such a beautiful banner made before and askjgddfshhdhh it's just perfect.

I'm also very partial to july second, the birthday fic I wrote for @doctorofaos - because Hunter's point of view, it turns out, is ridiculously fun to write, and I had an absolute ball. The whole arc - a surprise birthday party for Daisy, and some team bonding/family fluff - just really works for me, too.

Another one that has to go on this list is hold out your hand, 'cause friends will be friends, my DaisyMack Soulmates BroTP, because that one is my amazing wife @aleksandrachaev's favourite, and it melts my heart so much to hear how much she likes it. 💜

Then lastly, for Spideychelle, my favourite thing I've written is quintessential spideychelle, no contest - it's a Roommates AU and my birthday gift for @eowima, and all the bonding those two dorks do over Lucifer and fandom in general brings me endless delight.

My Aladdin AU, now when did you last let your heart decide, will also always hold a special place in my heart, because it's the first really long thing I wrote. I put a ton of effort into it, and, well, I still think it's kinda fab.

(also I'm so sorry for the relentless self-plug that turned into, oh my God, apparently I'm just that indecisive and love talking that much. I apologise once again)

Fic You Were Nervous To Post: Aubrey, high-five! Because one of the things I was definitely the most freaked out for was that is good, my first-ever Quakerider fic and birthday gift for @acerobbiereyes. The response to that turned out to be overwhelmingly positive, though, and I have even made promises to venture into Quakerider-land again 🥰

I was also a little stressed for we love you, we love you, and we hope you love we too, which was my first-ever polyship fic - Fitzskimmons and cute notes for the fluff bingo - and something I also dedicated to the amazing @bobbimorseisbisexual. Also the formatting for this thing was HELL, and computers and I do not get along, so I was in cold sweats that it wouldn't work and fail on me completely... but, no, it worked, and the wonderful response to it too, very much melted my heart 🥺💖

How You Choose Your Titles: song lyrics. Almost always song lyrics. And if it's not song lyrics, it's a quote of some kind - it just works for me, and I actually find it fun to go hunt for something that works. Maybe I'm weird, but I actually do love it xD

Do You Outline? absolutely, yes - in fact, a great many of the things in my WIPs folder are solely outlines, or even just the beginnings of outlines. I find that outlines are a really good way to save your ideas if you don't have time to write them out properly, so you can come back months later and be all, "what the hell I'm actually so clever." (or, y'know, occasionally, "what the hell can the earth come swallow me up." But let's go with the cleverness 🤣👌)

In Progress:

... I think it's better that we don't talk about my WIPs folder, which, as most people who know anything about me can tell you, is an utter mess, and more than a little insane. (If you don't believe me, check it out here - I bet you do now, right?)

Out of that monstrosity, I'm currently working on numbers 20, 64, 192 and 174, which would be my Skimmons Hallmark Rom-Com, and fics for my three Secret Santas - Spideychelle, Fitzsimmons, and then one for the AoS Secret Santa whose pairing is, in delightfully SHIELD style, classified until the 24th of December.

Then in the very background, I'm also writing some Pipsy, Fitzsimmons and plat!Diper for the fluff bingo yes which I have still not finished I'm awful I know, and I'm going to make my lateness a liiiitle better by passing them of as gifts for my friends. I do love my friends very much, though, so that's more than fair I think 🥺💜

My Complete AO3: ta!

Do You Accept Prompts? yes, always! I have this plan in the back of my mind of gathering up all the prompt lists I've got saved to my drafts and doing like a masterpost/mass prompt request thing, but I'll leave that for a little later yet, because goodness knows I have enough to finish 🙈 In the meantime, though, if there's anything you'd really like to see me write, I'd be just thrilled to do it for you! It'll definitely take me a couple of months to actually get to it, but if you don't mind the wait, then yes, absolutely, I'm your girl! 💖

Upcoming Work That You're Most Excited About: oooooof, another tough one, but I'm very much looking forward to posting the first chapter of my Skimmons Hallmark Rom-Com, which I'm going to do later today!!

Then there's also my three Secret Santas - though I'm not particularly religious, the idea of a gift fic exchange brings me endless glee and I cannot wait to see what my giftees think! I also can't wait to get my own gifts, too, of course... ;) Oh, it's just going to be so much FUN!!

Tagging: well, everyone did this a couple of weeks months ago, so I'm not actually going to tag anyone - but if you see this and think it's cool, by all means go ahead and say I tagged you! 😍 Also, have a very big virtual hug, all of you, and thank you so much for reading through all my blathering!! 💜💖

#tag game #author tag #author interview tag #ahhhhh it has been SO LONG since I was tagged for this fsklfsgjdhkksdhs it's terrible #but here I am; late and very... chatty?#does that help at all??#lmao well you'll be seeing a lot of that the next few days 🤣😍#ahhhh it feels so good to be properly back in the fandom game!#three cheers for breaks xD #queue'll figure it out together

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ghostmartyr · 3 years

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So if you, like me, have nothing to do but wonder about the state of my inbox, you might rightfully be wondering how I plan to deal with the obscene backlog I have spent so many years failing to deal with.

If you have never wondered that, fear not, that doesn’t exclude you from finding out.

Today we’re just going to go through my entire slew of unanswered asks, and instead of answering them, I am going to provide excuses for why I didn’t do anything with them.

For added fun, several of the asks were in my Drafts.

I will not be cutting out the comments I started to make.

I will no doubt regret this.

Let’s have a time, shall we?

I don’t even know what year this is from. If I remember correctly, I didn’t get back to you because I thought about trying to reason out who would legitimately win, and there were too many points for both sides. I kept intending to come up with a proper answer, then time went by and this got buried.

Though the actual answer is probably “it depends on who gets the main character sticker at the time.”

...

Well.

I can tell you this is multiple years old.

We, as humans, aren’t equipped for time travel.

I didn’t answer this one because I didn’t feel like it was asking for one, and I’m only reproducing it here because it is really, really funny now.

Two years old. Plus change.

I think the entire reason I never replied to this one is that it cheered me up whenever I scrolled down enough to see it, so thank you.

You know, I entered the link at the time. Really, I did. But then came trying to come up with a comment and what can you really follow that with?

(Click the link.)

Okay then.

I still feel no need to respond to this, so that’s probably why I didn’t to start with.

Historia and literally anyone.

I don’t remember why I didn’t answer this, which usually means some combination of feeling tired and not being in the mood to scroll down to where it was.

Oops.

The thing is, this crosses dangerously close to being a fic idea. Fic ideas take time and effort. You can imagine the absolute dread I felt at having to engage with either concept.

It would have been a lot of fun to do, though. Hats off.

See, again. This is a very interesting concept that requires thought. I can tell you when I received it I was in no mood for anything that required anything of the sort.

I wrote a fic that is possibly never going to see the light of day now where they hang out in a kitchen with hot chocolate together and bond through unstated trauma and Frieda attempting to make things better.

That probably contributed to interfering with imagining how they would actually get along.

Anyway, I ship them slightly in that fic AU. Don’t @ me.

Oh dang. I remember this.

I actually really wanted to answer it, but the problem is that I wanted to come up with a good answer. Every character, tiered by their chances. A full Hunger Games edition of what went down and who killed who.

Then I didn’t.

Anyway, turns out the answer is that no one feels the need to chop of rocking chairs in a hurry, so she’d last a long time!

I didn’t answer this because I try to avoid responding with, “I don’t know.” My secondary answer would probably have been, “By being killed.”

Not that there’s anything wrong with those answers, but unless there’s been a tonal trend in asks, I assume that pithy answers that don’t actually have any meat behind them would not be appreciated.

I would stick to him probably being killed, though. But some signs do point to him being relatively immortal.

Hm.

Hmm.

I don’t know why I didn’t answer this, but I would guess it had something to do with me caring very little about Ymir’s thoughts on anything outside of her little clutch of people. And ongoing trauma of repeated dead/alive Ymir commentary killing off my desire to come up with a good answer.

Sorry?

I... have no idea why I didn’t answer this? Maybe I didn’t see it?

Anyway, yes.

There’s a longer version behind that yes, and I’m sure that might have contributed to never getting around to answering this. ...Assuming a past where I did actually see this one.

I have a confession.

I don’t really like crossovers.

There’s a sliding scale of degree, but that’s basically why this didn’t get a response.

Ah, we’ve landed on a recurring theme.

Sometimes, answers involve me thinking about the entire cast.

The usual consequence of that is I don’t have the energy for that, so nothing ever happens with these.

Oh, this one’s easy.

I had no fucking clue.

No ideas, head empty.

That didn’t seem like a good answer, so here we are, probably around a year later. I still have no clue. If I were forced to write a singing duo AU, I would probably just put some adjectives and nouns into a blender and flip a coin.

Names are hard.

I think I didn’t answer this one because I felt like I’d answered similar asks before. And I’m not really sure when this is from, but it’s possible canon complicated coming up with an answer that wasn’t distressed screeching.

Something something give Connie and Mikasa hugs, not partial about where they get them from.

Apparently not. Oops.

I can’t remember why I didn’t respond to this one. It’s possible the oodles of bad parenting proved too distracting to formulate such a post.

Sometimes I get an ask, and my immediate, gut reaction is, how the fuck should I know?

If I can move past that, the ask is answered.

If I can’t, the ask continues its descent through scroll hell.

I am sorry. There are no answers here.

Yeah, this is just the same as the above, just with I have no idea.

It’d probably be a Madoka Magic deal.

Huh. I don’t remember passing this one over. If I were to guess a timeline, I was probably too bitter over potential post-timeskip looks that I never got to be interested in focusing on the characters lucky enough to get good ones.

Go Connie for being less short, I suppose.

This clearly belonged to something that I was doing, but time has eroded the context, so I am simply left with failure and disappointment on all sides. Sorry.

Aw, we’re getting into the boring part of the inbox now, I think. Not because of the questions; you guys are always great. But I can’t think of a reason why I wouldn’t have answered this, which leads me to think that the reason was I was too tired to put words together.

That’s a boring reason, so maybe I should go into Drafts for the next few...

Yeah, still unfairly prejudiced against crossovers. I am no fun, etc. etc.

I have no memory of it, but I feel like I didn’t answer this because there was no way I could match this kindly anon’s enthusiasm.

You go, random internet person.

You have good ideas.

Oh no.

Uh.

See.

I know exactly why I didn’t answer this one.

I am so sorry, Anon.

I really didn’t care.

I am filled with affection for you because you clearly do, but uh.

...I basically put this on Read.

This has a very simple, ie boring, explanation. Any time someone asks about the cast as a whole, I want to think about the cast as a whole, and that takes a lot more thought than most of the asks I get. Cue putting it off. Cue it getting lost in scroll hell. On and on we go until we end up here.

Anything that opens with kilometers is something that requires more brain power than I have had in the past year.

Also I think I got this during a spoiler week, so I saw it, but I was trying not to look at it, and then it got lost in the post-chapter asks.

That happens a lot.

We might see it more soon.

If I can’t come up with words more than “-shrug-” I try not to answer.

...Good news, though!

The manga did my job for me!

I feel like I answered some variation of this. That might be why I didn’t answer this specific one.

The wiki does a better job keeping track of the timeline than I ever have. I probably didn’t answer this because it would involve trying to remember which volume actually name-dropped a number of weeks or months. Searching for lines I know a character said is pretty easy, but searching out lines I have a vague feeling of someone providing? That tends to hit the frustration button with the force of a truck.

But yeah, if you ever want to know how long something took, the wiki is absolutely your friend. They do good work.

Consider: “What if” questions are hard, and I am lazy.

This is actually one I really did mean to get to, sorry. It’s an interesting thought, and I miss Sasha.

...I clearly did a magnificent job answering your asks, friend.

Prediction asks are hard for me; I feel like I’m throwing darts randomly into the air and the dartboard is still deciding if it’s going to show up. So uh. I guess I just kept putting this off until it didn’t get answered.

This post is going to have so many apologies. Implied and otherwise.

I continue to be the No Fun Police who accidentally-on-purpose avoids crossover commentary.

I feel like I didn’t answer this one entirely because seeing it in my inbox gave me far too much joy to have it lost in a sea of posts.

This is what my inbox was made for.

I have no idea when this was from, but I see your emotions and appreciate them, Anon.

...Did I not see this one?

Hey, Anon who probably doesn’t remember sending this: This is a good ask and deserved some good attention, and I’m sorry I missed my shot at it. Good thoughts.

I didn’t answer this one entirely because I knew I couldn’t match the energy of it, and responding with anything less felt heretical.

That is one hell of a mood, Anon.

This is definitely from the era of, “Can’t think, brain empty.” Sorry about not getting back to you, I just really couldn’t organize my thoughts well enough to come up with an answer.

I feel like I didn’t know what this was continuing from and was too exhausted to ask.

LOOK YOU CAN SEE I WANTED TO ANSWER THIS BECAUSE IT’S A DRAFT.

Too many things, Anon.

I liked so many things about all of that. Trying to turn that enthusiasm into words wasn’t agreeing with me, so I put it in Drafts and told myself one day I’d do the most awesome post detailing everything.

Intentions, huh?

Every time I tried to take a normal screenshot with formatting Tumblr just laughed at me, so that might have been a contributing factor.

Dang, I’m really sorry. This is another one of those cases where I wanted to take my time with a response, and I took too long.

I, uh.

Am guilty of not being too interested in pondering Ymir’s thoughts on Levi or Erwin.

That’s it, that’s the explanation.

Yeah, I just couldn’t come up with an answer here? Or someone else asked? Or several of my friends decided to be annoying about lists on Discord? I don’t even know.

Presumably there could be a list.

There is not.

Honestly, I just couldn’t figure out how to follow that starting sentence up. A thought exercise on Armin, Historia, gender, and themes sounded really interesting, and I put it in Drafts so as not to forget it being interesting.

Then, you know. This post sort of paints the picture.

Ah.

Man, I really was looking forward to putting some proper thought into this. That’s the problem with having so many things I love in one place, I guess. Symbolism? Historia and Ymir? Mikasa? So many good things! Where do I start!

With paralyzing indecision that results in not a lot. Sorry, Anon. This really did light up my day when I got it.

Here’s the thing about me and writing:

I often fail to.

(I love both these ideas, though.)

Yes.

Do I know why I didn’t get around to answering this?

Absolutely not.

But yes, I’d agree with that.

GOOD NEWS!

The manga actually gave us some of them together in the future.

I occasionally giggled over their shared distaste.

It was a good time.

And this is another one I just do not know why I didn’t answer, whoops.

This never got answered because I couldn’t come up with an answer.

Broad questions are scary because they can go just about anywhere and I didn’t know how to handle that level of commitment.

I think I didn’t answer this one, A), because words are hard, and B), because mostly I just wanted to listen to more of your wondering and less of mine.

I probably could have answered this by saying I don’t have any, but that seemed rude, so I didn’t respond to it at all.

Yep.

Frieda is worthy of my time and effort.

Landing this in Drafts instead of my inbox.

Where the lighting makes it more obvious that hope has gone there to die.

I think about it so much too.

I find the answers fundamentally upsetting.

That is probably why I did not provide an answer here.

That is a lot of kids to make up headcanons for.

So I didn’t.

She’s eaten by dogs before she develops a personality.

Since that seemed like the wrong thing to say, I said nothing, and into Drafts this went.

‘I have no earthly clue’ seemed similarly unhelpful.

At this point, we understand that there is no mystery to my backlog.

This one hurts.

-sees the 112 reference-

Wow does it hurt.

As I hope is obvious, I really, really loved this question, and kept meaning to carve out time to work on it specifically. What went sideways was trying to put words to how EMA functions. I knew the feel of what I wanted to express, but every time I tried to write it, it came out wonky.

I’m very sorry I couldn’t do anything for this, because I was thrilled to spend time with it.

I didn’t answer this because Fuck Marley.

It’s nothing against you. At the time, I simply wasn’t in any mood to consider any version of Marley. Even the canon version was too much for me, so giving it my time in a roleswap AU had me hissing.

Roleswaps in general are amazing, and I love them a lot. A dedicated person could make a fantastic one based around Marley and Paradis. I think it would probably be cool af.

But I was so tired of Marley when I got this, I just couldn’t make myself think about it. Sorry. It’s a fun idea.

I didn’t answer this one because I kept trying to extend my response past, “I think he just really likes baseball.”

I think he just really likes baseball.

My feelings on that as a quality answer are derogatory.

Mm. The ones where I actually tried to get something started hurts.

Ultimately, this ask was a larger demand than I could make my brain work through at the time. I made sure to write down the tl;dr version of Sasha’s, because I found that desperately important, and not something that people talk about much, but the additional weight of trying to think of themes for multiple characters made it hard to progress.

Me, looking at the prompts: Hi my brain left me.

Sorry, Anon. Too many gears were moving for me to get a proper feel for what I wanted to do with this one, so I ended up ditching it. ...I was planning to finish it, though. Eventually. See, I even put the quote in the Draft version as a reminder of what I was doing, so I could get back to it right away.

Yeeeeah, this is just one more to the “I will give this wonderful thing all the time it deserves!” pile.

The pile is stored in the Failure Corner.

Perfectionism is the enemy of progress.

You guys really like crossovers.

I love that for you.

-spends two years ignoring you-

I mean, I just didn’t know what to do with the rainbows.

They sure are there.

They sure are pretty.

I sure couldn’t come up with a comment to add.

...I don’t know why I didn’t answer this. Possibly because I think it’s fine? I’m not too attached to it, and spent the whole manga period wanting to watch an anime version instead, then we got an anime version.

I’d guess that my general “meh” feelings interfered with responding here.

No idea why I didn’t answer this.

Yes, and good for you.

I support all thoughts on giving the Reiss kiddos personalities.

I think I didn’t get back to you on this because I wasn’t sure how to encourage you to keep going so I just sat awkwardly on my hands and felt weird about not saying anything.

...Thanks for sharing!

I love how it’s the little things that date these.

Unfortunately, we’re now at the point where 90% of the reason I didn’t answer was because I was too sick to muster up anything approaching enthusiasm.

Or because I’d just finished answering a bunch of chapter-specific things and was burnt out.

This felt pretty self-explanatory to me, so I felt like that gave me permission to ignore it.

Also, it mentions Marley.

I might be slightly petty.

Really though, I think what stopped me from giving a proper answer is that the question of what an author is trying to say throws me off a little. I work better thinking of it in terms of what the story is saying, with the author just happening to be the hands that wrote it all down.

I don’t know. This was probably another case of feeling like I should give this more of my time than I was able.

I couldn’t decide.

That’s it.

That’s the reason.

Everyone needs to give Mikasa a hug.

My blog title for a hug.

-the crossover snake hisses and consumes another-

I am so sorry.

This is fun.

I probably should have just gone with posting and saying so, because I am genuinely charmed by this. I tend to feel like I have to add something to asks to justify the post. That policy maybe didn’t need to be a thing.

I love my anons.

I want that to be clear.

Really, I do.

I especially love their willingness to embrace my crackpot logic.

Still.

Sometimes, the only response one can have to Schrodinger’s Ymir is to ignore its existence, find a pillow, and scream into it for the rest of time.

This replaces typing.

-looks at Armin-

-looks at Eren-

Yeah, don’t know why I didn’t answer this one, either. I blame tiredness? Sorry about that.

I feel like I didn’t answer this one because it felt like work.

This is where I start considering that making this post was a mistake.

I could have just agreed with you and gone about my day.

Probably should have.

Did not.

Another one for that, “had nothing to add so I just left it in a corner, abandoned and unloved,” pile.

There is an apology section at the end, but we’re not there yet.

This one I don’t think I noticed.

Alternatively, I did notice, and wasn’t sure “Yes,” would pass as a good enough answer.

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

Okay, time to really just get into it: I think for the remainder of my inbox, I didn’t answer because physically, I was just too damn exhausted, and I kept waiting for a point in time where I’d feel better. Sorry to put a limit on the personalization, but in the end, that’s all there was to it, and rephrasing it a dozen times will make me crazy.

And here we are.

Well.

Good grief, do you guys even have any clue how much I like all of you?

Obviously there’s a lot of guilt in the above, because I can’t tell you how much I wanted, each time, to give a great answer that would make you thrilled you messaged me. I am so sorry to all of these I didn’t get to. There were days when the alerts in my inbox were the best thing to happen to me, and I never wanted to let any of them go without acknowledgment.

I try to say thank you as often as I can in my responses, because that’s as close as I can get to reminding you all, constantly, that I am grateful for your participation. The only times I don’t say it is when I worry that it’ll look like it’s being done out of habit, not genuine gratitude. Or when I think you might take it the wrong way if I say thanks for a basic conversation. Because you provide me content and make me interested in things I might not normally look twice at.

There are so many instances of people saying hi, and thank you, and wishing everyone well here.

I haven’t been active in the larger fandom in two years, but I have always been so happy that you guys kept dropping by my space anyway.

You are a pleasure and light in my life, no matter how much snark I might throw about.

Thank you all.

#attack on asks #tl;dr #long post

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janedrakey131 · 4 years

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zukka hp au part 6

Thank you so much, everyone! I hope you continue to enjoy this au. I had a few minutes last night, so I wrote up a couple scenes for all of you.

I haven’t written anything in so long though, so I’m sorry about the quality. Also, if someone is OOC, I’m sorry, I really tried. I need to rewatch atla at this rate. But feedback is always appreciated! I’m tagging anyone currently on the tag list, but if you missed it or just saw it, please let me know on the tag list post and I’ll add you in for future posts. (If you’d like me to reblog and tag you on this one, that’s also an option, but please comment or DM me so I know exactly who would like that.)

Also, if you couldn’t tell, I have no idea what I’m doing. So if I left someone off the tag list by accident or put it in a weird spot, I’m sorry! It’s possibly because I had to google how to make one yesterday XD But if I missed you, please tell me! I swear it wasn’t intentional. If you have any other suggestions or questions, let me know!

If you’d like to catch up:

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5 part 6 part 7 part 8 part 9 part 10 part 11 part 12 part 13

If you would like to join the tag list

And with that, hope you enjoy :)

October 31 1981

There’s a suspicious bump.

The minister really does not like suspicious bumps.

But working in the Ministry of Magic for as long as he has, eventually he stopped jumping at every single one. He calls that progress. His wife says he’s finally lost whatever survival instincts he used to possess.

The minister doesn’t care overly much though. Today’s a happy day! The Avatar defeated Lord Sozin! He should be drafting congratulatory letters for the poor kid. Speaking of the child, he needs to find out where they are. And also who they are. There’s an astounding lack of information on this baby.

There’s a suspicious fwoosh and two masked wizards stand before him.

The minister is a calm and collected man. So, of course, he screams.

“None of that now,” says the older man with absolutely wild grey hair. “Stop screaming, Minister. We’re not here to hurt you.”

The minister wasn’t born yesterday, and his mother has reliably informed him that he isn’t a complete imbecile. He continues screaming.

The other intruder nudges the other and sighs. “You’re scaring him.”

“No, really?” Lunatic One groans. “I didn’t notice over all the screaming. Silencio. Honestly, he supposedly went toe to toe with Sozin in the Wizengamot for years. You’d think he’d have more guts than this.”

The nicer interloper (but still Lunatic Two) sighs again. “One who knows when to retreat will live longer than those who stay to fight past their abilities.”

“No, no, nope, we are not having your little philosophical riddles today. They just make my head hurt. You’re only here to make sure I don’t get bored and decide I want to wear his spine as a necklace.”

The minister’s eyes must pop out of his skull a bit.

“Just get to the point, my friend, so we can let this nice man enjoy his evening.”

“Nice man? He’s a politician. They’re all crackpots,” necklace man says.

The minister privately wonders why his friend bothers to sigh again when he clearly isn’t surprised.

“You’re a politician, too.”

“Yes,” the crazy one replies sagely. “I’m a crackpot. It means I wear the stench of insanity with pride and can identify it elsewhere.”

“Anyway,” the same man continues, but this time clearly directed towards the minister. “Simple request. Don’t look for the Avatar. No, no, no, I see you shaking your head at me. Just don’t look for them, or I’ll be back for my new bony accessories.”

His calmer friend looks the minister in the eyes. “We will keep the Avatar safe. But if Sozin’s followers find out where the child is, they’ll be dead before their next birthday. Do you understand, Minister?”

The minister likes to think he’s good at reading the room, so he nods a bit frantically. With them taking care of the child, that’s one less thing for him to worry about. And he gets to keep his spine. He’s rather partial to it now that he thinks about it. Anyway, it’s a win for everyone.

“Excellent.”

And then the two men are gone.

Hurray for delegating responsibilities.

Today was enitrely too exciting for his delicate sensibilites. The minister pulls out the biggest bottle of Firewhiskey he owns and Floos home. Maybe he’ll get that takeout his wife likes today. She always deserves nice things, but especially today in exchange for all the blubbering he’s about to do.

oOo

“Did you really have to scare him so thoroughly, Headmaster?” Iroh asks once they’re safely back in the Headmaster’s office.

Headmaster Bumi throws his head back and laughs. “Fear is healthy! It keeps the blood pumping. The masks just added to the overall effect. And it’s not like I’d actually follow through. He just needs some character building. But at least that’s done. The kid’s with a friend of mine tonight. You’ll take the child to the orphanage tomorrow then?”

Iroh nods. “We’ll check in on him sometimes?”

“Of course,” Bumi says, looking scandalized. “What do you take me for? If he isn’t being treated well, prophecy or no prophecy, I’ll raise him myself. We don’t tolerate child abuse in this house.”

Iroh is extremely alarmed by the idea of Bumi raising any child, let alone the Avatar. But he is relieved they’re on the same page. At least now he doesn’t have to plan a kidnapping. Finally, after a long, but successful, night, Iroh leans back and enjoys his freshly brewed tea in peace.

Bumi’s chewing breaks the comfortable silence.

“Want a biscuit? They’re lemon poppy seed.”

Moderate peace then, but he thanks the Headmaster and enjoys his biscuit.

oOo

September 1, 1990

Sokka kind of assumes that he’ll be extremely bored during his first year of Hogwarts. He isn’t friends with anyone in his year yet, and Katara is a year younger.

Out of the limited number of other wizarding families he’s met, he hasn’t gotten along with many of the other kids. They were all either too dull, too old, or too annoying.

So Sokka has to admit he didn’t see this coming.

The boy in front of him is cool.

He’s already changed into pressed black Hogwarts robes with a red tie, so Sokka assumes the boy is maybe a second year Gryffindor. His black hair is neatly pulled out of his face, and there’s just a hint of the hair piece holding it up. Sokka’s busy staring at the rings on the boy’s fingers, a clear sign of an elemental magic user. But he’s too far away to figure out which element.

Sokka doesn’t really care though. People are people. It can’t hurt to ask if he can sit there.

So he screws up his courage and opens the door to the train compartment.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

Sokka blinks. This boy isn’t very friendly, but he presses on.

“Everywhere else is full,” he says, lying through his teeth. “Mind if I join you?”

Five full compartments can be rounded up to all of them. Sokka’s a man of science. He would know.

The boy doesn’t answer for a beat, looking him up and down. Then he sneers. “Wolf’s tail, all that blue? You must be another Water Tribe peasant.”

Sokka can feel the blood rushing in his ears. Of all the compartments he had to walk into, it had to be a Fire Nation one.

“And you must be half troll with manners like that,” he bites out, before slamming the compartment door shut and walking away.

That was terrible. But it’s too late to go back and properly insult the other boy, so Sokka angrily walks away.

oOo

That’s all for now!

A few more things:

I’m trying to make my life easier with dates for this au, so Halloween 1981 is when Sozin tried to kill the Avatar. Aang’s birthday is just going to be so late in the year that he got bumped to the year below. So we’re going based on Sokka’s years in school, first year starting in 1990. If something I’m doing doesn’t make sense or I’m completely contraindicating something, please ask! There’s a really good chance I’ve missed something.

Also, any and all commentary or jokes made by characters about being insane and so on will not extend to actually poking fun at a character’s mental health. If they’ve got an issue that’s bothering them, that’s that. In this case, I think random people appearing in your office would scare you. And Bumi just sounds like someone who assumes everyone is as sane as he is.

Lastly, say hello to one of the few straight characters we have. The minister was just a fun OC I made up, so I don’t have any corresponding atla character in mind for him. I was going to give him a name, but it just felt better having him be this random competent leader with a badass wife.

If you’d like to catch up:

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5 part 6 part 7 part 8 part 9 part 10 part 11 part 12 part 13

If you would like to join the tag list

@delievia @assyouwishh @aphrcditeee @theoneandonlyredrobin @dongdingheresthething @bring-back-wally @zuko-just-wants-his-honor @youcant-escapefate @iwillgodownwiththisship27 @animegeneral17 @uglybutuwu @cocoa-hooves @errvaaa

#zukka #hp au #part 6 #atla au #atla #zuko #sokka #katara #toph #suki #iroh #sozin #ozai

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joonsdiary · 4 years

Text

the ceo’s keeper

↳ part three of the: (not) the love of my life series

pairing: seokjin x reader (female) genre: arranged marriage au // humour with a dash of fluff and sprinkle of angst word count: 5,8k

chapter summary: visiting seokjin in his Tower of Terror™ reveals he carries a lot more baggage than you intend to claim.

warning. alcohol consumption, a few curse words here and there; nothing worth putting the mature tag but i’d still advice to proceed with caution.

note. putting it out there since i don’t think i’ve mentioned it before, but this fic was initially inspired by yuna’s (not) the love of my life. just putting it out there as a song rec in case you’ve not heard it yet!

the proposal | the first date | the ceo’s keeper | the engagement

“Guess who’s in the front cover of Daily Gossip and is trending number one in the search engines?” Taehyung barged into Seokjin's office early Monday morning a few seconds after Mina phoned his arrival. His brother plopped himself in the plush leather chair across his office table, lifting one leg to rest it on top of the other.

Seokjin didn’t have to guess as he often donned the front cover of plenty of tabloids. But not because of anything work-related, which he never really understood. Were his date nights that interesting to many people? Must be, if they were constantly writing about it. He then remembered your quip a few days ago regarding his ‘date’ with the president’s daughter but was quickly reminded that a certain Yoongi had told you about it. The corner of his lips curled downwards.

“Aren’t I always on the front cover?” he doesn’t even bother to look up as he spoke while continuing to type endlessly on his keyboard. If there was one thing he hated about his job, it would have to be coordinating e-mails. He would usually allocate the task to Mina, but certain emails that contain sensitive information would have to be drafted by him.

“Yes, but, hear this—” Taehyung cleared his throat for effect and shifted in his seat, holding his phone in front of him theatrically, “Seoul’s most eligible bachelor’s newest FLING is somebody you won’t expect!”

“As I said, it’s nothing new,” he deadpanned.

Taehyung chastised him with a shush before continuing.

“Kim Seokjin’s date du jour – I’m pretty sure they used the word in the wrong context here – is the twenty-four-year-old hotelier – wait, she’s that young?”

“I can’t interrupt you, but you keep stopping yourself for your little commentaries,” Seokjin grumbled as he hit the send button, only partially listening to Taehyung. “And she’s practically the same age as you.”

“Yes, but an owner, albeit previously, of a hotel? That’s pretty impressive.”

Seokjin rolled his eyes at Taehyung’s remark, but one of the reasons why he’d agree to this whole masquerade in the first place is due to your reputation. You were a woman of class and grace in spite of your moderate — for a lack of a better term — upbringing. As far as he was concerned, you were respected among the elites; the perfect remedy to clear his name of his tarnished credibility, which he blames solely on the tabloids. Whoever he chooses to go on a date with, no matter how frequently the person changed every week, was no one’s business but his.

Yet the camera lenses never strayed too far from him wherever he went. It was tedious and stupid because he wasn’t some celebrity who craved attention. Yet he had to make peace with the fact because the board of directors was all about reputation instead of the actual work that Seokjin put into elevating the company.

“Anyway, back to the gossip,” Taehyung scrolled down further on his screen, “blah, blah – oh! We have a feeling she’s special because unlike his other dates, he brought her to his upscale restaurant, Chateau – You had dinner at Mom’s restaurant? That is certainly news.”

The fact that Taehyung still referred to it as ‘Mom’s restaurant’ brought warmth in Seokjin’s chest.

“It was a last-minute decision. She said she went on a date at the place you suggested the night before.”

“That is also news,” Taehyung said, teasing. “Do tell me the details, dear brother.”

“Apparently it was a move to get under her parent’s skin. It was shortly before she knew of my proposal, obviously. Nothing much to spill.”

“Mhm,” the smirk lingered on Taehyung’s lips, but he pressed on with the article. He quietly read with his eyes for a while before blurting out an expletive, which caused Seokjin to look up momentarily from his screen.

“What?”

Taehyung sighed as he squinted at his brother, reciting the text verbatim. “But their rendezvous, however, ended early with them parting ways; he headed straight to Kim Hotel after dropping her off. Does this mean the night didn’t go as they’d planned? Will she be another date-and-dash for our handsome CEO-to-be?”

“Date-and-dash,” Seokjin scoffed before laughing in disbelief. “That might be the best term they’ve come up with so far.”

“Yeah, well, we don’t want everybody to think this is another date-and-dash for you.”

“I’m only worried about Dad’s opinion. Everybody else can think whatever they want.”

“They can still hire an outsider as CEO.”

“Dad wouldn’t let them do that.”

“There’s only so much power he can hold. That’s what the board of directors is for.”

He paused, letting Taehyung’s words simmer. His brother never bothered much for the corporate side of the business, opting to delve more into his artistic side. He was responsible for much of the interior design of any and every Kim Hotel they decided to build, but that’s about it as far as his contribution went. If Taehyung was content and satisfied with whatever he chose, then so was Seokjin.

“You’re right,” Seokjin’s lips pursed, hating the admission.

“Aren’t I always?” Taehyung snorts before sighing and putting his phone away. “You’re going to have to put a little bit more pep in your step, as the saying goes, if you want to make this look more sincere than it actually is.”

Seokjin contemplated the implication of the word sincere. He thought he had been as truthful as possible in his interaction with you two nights prior. His conversation with you ebbed seamlessly, save for the second half of the night where you discussed business. It had been the sincerest interaction he had with a woman whom he didn’t have to bed that same night as he normally would. The farthest he’d gone with you so far was a chaste kiss on the forehead, which he deemed you were uncomfortable with.

“Should I make out with her on our next date, then?” Seokjin quipped. He didn’t mean it seriously, but the delighted look in his brother’s face told him they weren’t on the same page. “I was kidding, V.”

He threw the nickname out with an ill-intention, knowing how much Taehyung resented it. His brother sighed, slumping on the chair and mussing his curly locks. It baffled Seokjin how one could grow their hair out past their eyebrows, but it seemed to suit Taehyung, nonetheless, fitting with the artistic look he was trying to accomplish.

“It’s something to talk to her about. If she’s comfortable with it, then why the hell not?” Taehyung shrugged, tugging at his turtleneck.

Would you even be open to the idea? Hell, you’re bound to get married in less than three weeks, but he hadn’t entertained the thought. All the women he’s dated so far knew what to expect of him, and vice versa: sex after dinner. That was the mantra.

“I don’t know, Taehyung…” he trailed off.

It’s not that he thought of you as a prude, but his arrangement with you had strictly been business, and Seokjin was the type not to mix the two. He never pried with anything past surface level with the women he had relationships with; he never stayed long enough to know. Or he wasn’t interested enough to stay and get past the tip of the iceberg.

He no longer wanted to entertain the idea of forever with somebody, and longevity isn’t something he’s interested in. Been there, done that. Not exactly his cup of tea — he’d learned the hard way. Best he moved along.

“Fine, but mild contact is still on the table. You didn’t even hold her hand, according to the article.”

“I did,” Seokjin said defensively. Truthfully, he wasn’t sure, and that was a problem in and of itself.

“Tell her, Jin.”

“I will if it gets you off my back. Now kindly screw off,” he grinned at his inside joke before continuing. “I have a meeting with a contractor in five minutes.”

“Ouch, since when do you use such harsh words, dear brother?” Taehyung whined, clasping the front of this sweater with his hand. He straightened up, nonetheless, slipping his phone in the pocket of his black slacks. “Jeju?”

Seokjin nodded, opening another email that needed a return message.

“Shouldn’t Namjoon be here for that?”

“I already called him this morning. He’s still having way too much fun in Switzerland, but he’ll be back by the end of the week.”

“Taeri’s probably mad that you’re pulling her husband away from her so early after their wedding.” Taehyung laughed as he shook his head, but Seokjin only grinned.

“It’s been two months. He has to come back. This operation doesn’t run itself; I’ll have you know.”

Taehyung dismissed him with a passive, “Yeah, yeah.”

There’s a pause, and Seokjin furrowed his brows at his brother’s sudden teasing expression.

“But I still can’t believe he got married before you.” Taehyung pointed an accusing finger at him, and Seokjin laughed.

“I can’t believe it either. He’s certainly way worse than I am.”

“But better at break-ups than you are. You just leave them hanging,” Taehyung squinted his eyes with indignation. Seokjin gives his brother a tight-lipped smile.

“Not entirely true. I technically don’t do the whole dating thing officially. What’s more, I give them—”

“Mr. Kim, your ten-thirty is here,” Mina’s voice crackled through the phone. Seokjin sighed in relief, grateful for once that he was being interrupted with another meeting.

“I guess that’s my cue,” Taehyung turned, his Gucci loafers dragging him halfway through the office. “Don’t forget to tell Y/N.”

“I won’t. She’s stopping by later.”

“Oh? I should stick around, then.”

“We don’t need your constant badgering, thank you very much.” He called out, but Taehyung was already out of his office by then.

* * *

You had never been to the Kim Hotel before, there was simply no reason to step foot into one of their many copy-and-paste buildings that dotted the entire country. You joked to Seokjin a few nights ago about the hotel being his tower, but the building was indeed massive, which would make sense seeing that they are billionaires, after all. They wouldn’t have a measly bed-and-breakfast type of hotel like you do. You stood rooted to the ground, squinting up the massive fortress.

(You’d think at some point they’d have to consider the safety of the poor birds that get confused and end up slamming themselves into its reflective windows, but that seemed like a thought for another day.)

Pushing aside all the uneasy feeling that bubbled from your stomach, you collected yourself mentally and pushed through the revolving doors. It was exactly like you thought it was — the pinnacle of contemporary interior design. Everything blended seamlessly, uncluttered and unbearably white it was practically blinding you. Not wanting to be caught ogling the furniture, you made your way to the steel elevators, punching the button to the highest floor. Seokjin didn’t give you any details as to where his office is located, but surely the highest floor of this gargantuan building would belong to him. The doors slid open after what seemed like a lifetime, and you were greeted with a curt voice.

“Do you have an appointment?”

You blinked, unsure of what to say. “I believe so. My name is—”

“Finally! I thought you’d never arrive,” a brunette with an uncharacteristically wavy hair came bumbling out of what you assumed was a boardroom office. His hands were buried in the pocket of his loosely fitted slacks and an easygoing aura surrounded him. His presence was unmistakable, and despite not sharing the same facial features as Seokjin, you could tell who it was.

“Taehyung?”

His eyes lit up when you said his name as his lips formed into an attractive smile. He turned to Seokjin’s secretary.

“Mina, darling,” he said languidly, but the female did not bat her mascaraed eyelashes. “Will you let us in?”

Ah, so this was the lady you spoke with on the phone when you’d initially tried to get a hold of Seokjin. She seemed less terrifying when you met her face to face; her hair is pulled back in a low ponytail and she wore minimal makeup. She looked friendlier than she sounded, why were you afraid of calling, again?

“Mr. Kim is in a meeting right now,” she busied herself with her work while she spoke. “If you’d wait a moment—”

“But Mina, baby,” Taehyung crooned, leaning over her desk perhaps a little too close. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at his antics; he’s certainly quite different from how Seokjin acted. Whereas Seokjin kept himself aloof most of the time, Taehyung wore his emotions on his sleeve. Both are still unabashedly forward, nonetheless.

Mina stayed impassive, and you can tell why Seokjin hired her to guard his lair — the woman could not be cracked. You admitted to yourself that if Taehyung were to charm your pants off, you’d be completely hooked.

His efforts were rendered futile, however, when the wooden doors of Seokjin’s office opened and gave way to an ebony-haired woman. She was in the middle of securing her wool coat as her heels echoed with confidence through the marble floors, side-stepping to get around you but not before flashing you a lithe smile. The self-assurance you held before walking into the building had all but withered away.

“Taehyung.” She greeted him, but he only stared at her with an impassive gaze. “It’s nice seeing you around here.”

She headed straight to the elevators and disappeared even before you could blink.

“I didn’t think she’d be here today,” Taehyung mumbled.

“She’s the president’s daughter, right?” you asked, not bothering to remember what her name was. Taehyung nodded.

Strictly business my ass. You didn’t want to care, but your all-too-sudden sour mood said otherwise.

You push past the same wooden doors as the woman had earlier and you find Seokjin propped to his desk, hair slicked back, forehead taut in concentration as he focused on whatever was on his screen. If he’d been doing The Deed, you don’t think he’d look as put together as he currently does. That much was enough for you to relax into his leather chaise. Taehyung followed closely, opting to sit on the couch on the far side of the room.

“Future wife, how are you today?” Seokjin began, and you’re irritated slightly by his refusal to set aside whatever he was doing.

“About as well as one can be while visiting their corporate shark fiancé, Mr. Kim. You?”

Taehyung barked out a laugh from where he sat, and you patted yourself on the back. It’s the little accomplishments, you mused to yourself.

Seokjin’s head snapped at Taehyung and he gave his brother a glare that sliced through the room.

“I told you that you’re not needed here today, Taehyung.”

Taehyung ignored Seokjin, clutching his stomach as he wiped away imaginary tears. “Damn, can I be married to her instead?”

“I don’t like the idea of me being thrown around like a piece of meat for your amusement,” you deadpanned, and Taehyung straightened up quickly.

“I didn’t mean to offend, Sis. I only wanted to rile Jin up for my amusement.”

You rolled your eyes, chuckling as he gave you another million-dollar smile. Seokjin sighed as he stood, buttoning up the blazer of his suit. He picked up a manila envelope that was on the edge of his desk before rounding the table.

“You don’t have to sign today. You can take it home and read it over with a lawyer if you want.” He hands you the files before leaning back into the glass table. You shook your head as you pulled out the documents with confidence. If there had been one thing you learned from your parents, it was how to properly read official documents without glossing over important details. Legal documents often used extensive jargon, and you could easily tell they were drafted by actual lawyers. It gave you a tiny bit of relief that he wasn’t trying to scam you.

Your fingers skimmed your hotel’s name in print, somehow unable to wrap your mind around the fact that you no longer owned it. But the promise was clear in ink under commencement of your divorce: your hotel would be yours.

“Do you need one?” Your head lifted to meet Seokjin’s gaze after minutes of silence. He offered a fountain pen that glinted against the afternoon sun as he moved it closer to you. You felt a wave of emotions suddenly overwhelming you, and you blink up at him before shaking your head.

��Maybe I should look it over with a lawyer, after all,” you mumbled while giving him a timid smile. He nodded in understanding and moved back behind his desk.

“It’s no pressure at all.”

“It’s not that… I just,” you inhaled through your nose and out through your mouth. Between revealing your true feelings or lightening the mood with a banter, you chose the latter. “I just want to make sure you’re not hiding any tricks up your sleeves, Mr. Kim.”

“I’m not one to joke around with things like this, Ms. Hwang,” Seokjin said pointedly, and you frowned. Okay, not the mood I was going for.

“That’s true; he doesn’t. He’s as uptight as they come.” Taehyung quipped, rising from his comfortable spot before plopping beside you. He patted your shoulders, almost apologetically. “You’ll get used to him.”

“I highly doubt that,” you snorted, stuffing the papers back in their envelope. “I have no interest in being the CEO’s keeper.”

Taehyung peeled back from you for another belly laugh, and Seokjin rolled his eyes. “I’m right here, you know.”

Taehyung waved him off dismissively and turned back to you. “I wish we’d met under different circumstances, Y/N.”

There was a wicked gleam in Taehyung’s eyes, but you knew he was being playful rather than having malicious intent.

“Didn’t you say there was something else you wanted to talk about, V?” Seokjin’s voice was seething, which caused Taehyung’s grin to grow wider.

“Right, right,” he shifted in his seat as he whipped out his phone. “I made notes, hold on.”

“What’s this about?” you looked between the brothers with confusion.

“Apparently we did the whole ‘date’ thing wrong.” Seokjin deadpanned, rolling his eyes before he turned back to his work.

“Meaning?”

“One, lack of intimacy,” it was Taehyung who answered, and you blush at his comment. You’re reminded of how Seokjin had pulled you against him the moment you stepped out of the car.

“Going excessive on the first date would’ve made it seem disingenuous,” you pointed out, and Seokjin mumbled in agreement.

“Do you not know how Jin usually is with his former dates?” Taehyung asked, which froze Seokjin mid-type.

“I don’t make the habit of reading gossip blogs and tabloids for celebrities,” you mumbled, hoping they bought into your pretense of being calm. In your head you prayed Taehyung wouldn’t elaborate; the image of Seokjin with other women made you want to hurl your guts out. “I could honestly care less.”

“Right,” Taehyung gave you a slanted gaze, and you shrugged. “Please keep in mind to give a little bit more, next time, then.”

“Will do, Chief,” Seokjin grumbled, massaging his temples with both his hands.

“Second, no going home separately, especially since news of your engagement will hit the public this week.”

You fidgeted in your seat, the air in the room suddenly growing warmer.

“There’s a spare room in the penthouse suite,” Seokjin motioned at a door on the other side of his office with his chin. “The bathroom is always stocked with amenities in case—”

The word in case hung in the air like a thick fog, and Seokjin did not have to finish the sentence for you to figure out what he was trying to get at. The message was clear. But to be quite frank, you couldn’t care less. Right before agreeing to the arrangement, it was clear that Seokjin was that type of man, so it shouldn’t come as a surprise to you that he would bring women to his home, which also happened to be where his office was. Yet, there was an uncomfortable prickle in your heart and your palm unintentionally raised to soothe the phantom pain.

“I’m alright with taking a spare office or something. I’ll work for a few hours then head home past midnight. That should raise enough eyebrows, right?” you hoped neither one of them noticed the slight quiver in your voice.

Taehyung must have sensed it because his voice grew quiet. “Okay, I’m sure you two will work something out. That’s it, for now. I’m going to assume the rest will come naturally.”

You had a feeling he had a longer list but opted to be sensible enough to feel your mood shift. Seokjin didn’t say anything, but the lack of clicking noises coming from his direction told you he’s not working, either. You turned, locking gazes with him, but he remained expressionless which irritated you more than you’d like to admit.

“If there’s nothing else, I’ll take my leave,” you brushed imaginary lint off your high-waisted slacks as you stood up.

“So soon?” Taehyung pouted, earning a small laugh from you. The nerves were slowly dissipating, and you were glad.

“I have a date,” you paused, gauging Seokjin’s reaction. The scowl on his face made you smirk. “With some classmates from uni. Gotta keep up with the social circle if I want occasional help with my thesis, right?”

While that was true, the dinner isn’t until three hours from now. But you had no plans to stay here a minute longer; the tense air was suffocating you.

“Don’t be a stranger, Sis.” Taehyung engulfed you in a warm hug and you patted his back, chuckling in amusement.

“See you around, Taehyung.” As you pulled away, you gave Seokjin a slanted gaze. “I’ll give the papers back as soon as I can.”

You wobbled slightly as you headed for the door, disappointed that Seokjin didn’t stop you. He didn’t even bid you farewell. You scoffed.

“Have a good afternoon, Ms. Hwang.” Mina greeted you as you made your way to the elevator. You turned back to her with a genuine smile.

“You as well.”

+++

The pulsing beat of the music had your head throbbing with pain, but you didn’t think it’d be wise to complain. Especially because you couldn’t quite look Seokjin in the eyes for reasons completely unknown to you. Or perhaps you did know, you just chose not to dwell on them.

Two days after your productive visit to Seokjin’s Tower of Terror, your calendar graciously reminded you of another date you’ve set up with him. There was supposed to be a lunch date the day prior, but due to unforeseen circumstances (more so on his part rather than yours), you both agreed to have it cancelled. He apologized, but you dismissed him and said that you forgot that your mother had asked you to visit her and your father, anyways.

(In reality, she hadn’t and was delighted you called to say you were bringing them take-outs for lunch.)

“Wednesday nights are busier than I thought,” Seokjin mused, pulling you out of your mini daydream. You looked up, which proved to be a mistake because the club’s lights flickered in a way that accentuated his features; his straight nose that’s angled between his ever-so-prominent cheekbones. His fringe was down that evening — a sight that you have not yet witnessed. It made him seem younger than his actual age; more laidback, less prim and proper. In any other given scenario, this would not disarm you, but the occasional spark of colour highlighted how close his face was from yours.

In other words, you really ought to get used to being in close proximity to him if you were to continue this ordeal.

“It’s always full of people, no matter the day.”

Seokjin’s brows furrowed as his head dipped, inching his ears closer. You knew you’d flinch away if his arm wasn’t draped around your shoulders. “What was that?”

“I said it doesn’t matter what day it is — it’s always full here,” his scent made you feel more inebriated than the alcohol you held. You found it surprising that Kim Seokjin is not much into the club scene, thinking that people like him often spend half their time wasting away

He whipped his head to meet your gaze once more, a grin forming on his lips. “Of course, you’d know.”

There was something in the tone of his voice that made you want to defend yourself. “I have a social life too, Mr. Kim.”

“I never said you didn’t. But you’re more of a designated driver type rather than the drunk, party all night type of gal. Am I right?”

Your eye twitched in annoyance. Was he really stereotyping you now?

“You don’t know the half of it, Kim Seokjin,” you mutter, unsure whether he heard you or not. But you didn’t care, and instead proceeded to finish your margarita in one chug. You set down on the glass table in front of you before peeling yourself off of him and the velvet sofa. The desire to prove you weren’t prude — despite him not saying it outright — felt greater than your sense of logic and reasoning.

You wobbled slightly as all the blood in your system rushed to your brain. But you managed to steady yourself as you turned back to Seokjin. He watched you with interest, but his lips remained sealed in a grin.

“I do like being the designated driver at times. No shame in keeping my friends safe. Am I right?” you pushed Seokjin’s shoulder with one finger until his back hit the plush sofa. There was no turning back, you realized, when your leather skirt hitched higher as you placed your knees one after the other, effectively trapping him between your thighs. Alcohol was definitely coursing through your veins as you sat on his lap.

It never occurred to you that you’d be so brazen in front of Kim Seokjin. But here you were with your cheeks flushed and heart hammering wildly against your chest, wanting so desperately to prove that his expectations of you were wrong.

“But I can also have fun without being shit-faced.” The less you think about it, the better it was for you not to get embarrassed. So, you ignore his smug, seemingly unfazed expression as you wrapped your arms around his neck.

You were convinced you’ve only got one functioning brain cell left. But if Taehyung were present to judge, you knew he would gag with approval.

“Is that so?” Seokjin played along, and you weren’t entirely shocked; the man was probably used to such endeavours on a nightly basis before your arrangement. He placed his palm against the small of your back, and instead of pulling away, you leaned closer. Being this promiscuous in private was nothing new for you, but never when you knew there were several eyes trained on you like a hawk.

“Shall we give them something to write about, fiancé?” your eyes trailed down to his lips before meeting his gaze once more. You knew he wouldn’t oppose, but you still needed his consent. He nodded with a glint of amusement in his eyes and the next thing you knew, your lips were in his. He was firm and unwavering, slightly aggressive but he damn well knew what he was doing. It felt as if he'd set your body on fire with one singular moment.

You broke away first, eyes seeing but unfocused as you heaved a sigh, lungs welcoming the sweet taste of oxygen. Seokjin chuckled as he studied you with newfound interest, surprisingly well put together compared to you.

“Are you alright?”

“Mhm,” you peeled back from him, pulling your leather skirt down in the process. “That’s probably enough to placate the onlookers.”

You looked around, but the dim lights made it hard to see beyond a few meters. Seokjin followed your actions, and you feel the familiar warmth emanating from him once more. His arm was draped around you once more, but the gesture felt natural this time around. The mere smile he gave you was enough to send butterflies drifting in your stomach. You wouldn’t dare to admit it out loud, but at least you wouldn’t have to pretend to be attracted to him.

* * *

“Birthday?”

“Couldn’t you have just googled this? I’m sure I have a Wikipedia page.” Seokjin said, quite peeved that you didn’t know his birthday yet, when he’d memorized yours: May 24, 1996. You gave him a deadpan look and he sighed defeatedly. “December 4.”

“Year?”

“Seriously?”

You said nothing, opting to dip a fry in your Oreo-flavoured ice cream instead. He wasn’t surprised when you asked to ditch the club to eat, citing that you’d puke your guts out if you didn’t get any food in your system. He didn’t think you meant McDonald’s at midnight.

“1992.”

“Was that so hard?” you mumbled, typing the information on your phone. “Your birthday is coming up soon.”

“If by soon you mean two months from now, then yes.”

“Technically, it’s the seventh today, so it’s less than two months,” you pointed out but didn’t wait for him to return the conversation. “Favourite colour?”

“Are you writing a slam book? Would you like to know who my celebrity crush is, as well?” he rolled his eyes.

“Yes, actually. Let me guess; is it Florence Pugh? Ana de Armas? Brad Pitt? Or someone local…Jun Jihyun?” you mused. He only shook his head at your antics, convinced that you were not fully sober yet. “I’m kidding. I’m just filling out your contact information.”

You slid your phone across the table, which landed perfectly in front of him. True to your words, most of the information was filled out: Rapunzel donned the first name, and nothing was filled out for the last name option. He chuckled but didn’t bother changing it to his actual name and proceeded to input his number.

“That was smooth, Y/n, I must admit. You couldn’t have just asked for it straight up?”

You shrugged. “Where’s the fun in that?”

He handed your phone back, and moments later, his phone buzzed in his jean pockets. He opened the message — no doubt it had been from you.

𝗂 𝖾𝗑𝗉𝖾𝖼𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝖻𝖾 𝗌𝖺𝗏𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗌 “𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗆𝗒 𝗅𝗂𝖿𝖾” ;)

Seokjin simply shook his head; it felt unfamiliar for him to be smiling so much he could feel his cheeks go numb. If he knew how amusing it would be to go on a fake-real-date with you, he would��ve asked his father to set him up with you.

Wait, what?

He turned two strides back, retrieving the steps he made. Certainly, you couldn’t have grown on him so quickly — but in reality, it felt like that for a while now, whether he wanted to admit it or not. He thought the whole ordeal with you would be cumbersome, but it’s been quite the opposite so far. He commended your tenacity to go along with any plans he’s laid out, so far.

That’s because you’re holding her hotel hostage.

To be quite frank, it would’ve been none of his business if he decided not to meddle with his father’s whims. But he’d honestly rather be divorced and have his father lash out at him than be stuck in some arrangement he didn’t want. While it’s true that he could divorce you, either way, the key was the illusion of being in love. As Taehyung kindly pointed out to him: How devastating would it be that you both fell out of love, that they won’t consider rescinding the CEO position once you have it?

The stories would circulate around the heartbreak, instead of the bluff that was his arranged marriage for the sake of saving face.

Although now that he was sitting across from you as he watched you relentlessly dip your fried potatoes in your ice cream for the umpteenth time, the prospect of being married to you no longer felt as daunting. Especially if you were willing to make out with him on occasion as you had earlier. It wasn’t part of the contract, but he was willing to add the extra clause if you’d agree.

“What do you have that creepy grin for, Mr. Kim Seokjin?”

“I’m thinking of taking you home with me tonight, Ms. Hwang.” Seokjin’s satisfaction was evident in his smirk when he saw your eyes widen. He swore he saw you go through five emotions in the span of a mere second.

“Stop teasing. It’s not funny.”

He watched your already blushed cheeks turn a shade deeper as he chuckled. “I’m not teasing. Taehyung’s rules, remember?”

“Oh, right,” you blinked at him blankly. “I forgot to bring my laptop with me so I can have something to work with.”

“You were serious about occupying an office space?” he gawked, brows knitted.

“I was. I’m not sleeping over in your Mistress Suite.” You said in a monotone voice, but the indignation in your eyes told Seokjin you were more than serious — you were offended. At least he could tell that much.

“That name has a nice ring to it. Do you mind if I start calling it that, instead of just the guest room?” The pointed look you gave him made him think you were less than amused with his banter. Seokjin sighed and stood up, motioning for you to follow. “Don’t worry, no one has stayed there for two weeks.”

“I really didn’t need to know,” you grumbled. Seokjin reached out for you to take his hand.

“I’m sure you didn’t. But I’d still like to let you know that I wouldn’t do anything that would jeopardize this arrangement.”

That was part of the truth. The other part came in the form of his animosity towards infidelity. Seokjin genuinely hoped you didn’t think he would cheat on you during the span of your agreement. He had issues committing, yes, but he couldn’t begin to imagine inflicting such pain on another person. Not when he’s had firsthand experience on the subject.

It reassured him that there was an end to your charade, a point where he can say checkmate and the game would be over. Commitment still has to be made, for sure, but nothing that would leave him like an empty husk of his former self afterwards. No monsters under the bed, no skeletons in the closet, either.

You slid off the booth but did not take his outstretched hand, so he casually stuffed in his pocket. You were setting your limits, and he had to respect that. Perhaps the silly extra clause he thought of will not be a necessity, after all.

NEXT ;

thanks for reading this chapter. feedback is always appreciated! ♡

#seokjin fic #seokjin scenarios #jin scenario #seokjin scenario #bts scenarios #bangtan scenario #jin scenarios #seokjin fanfic #jin fanfic #seokjin x reader #bts fanfic #seokjin angst #seokjin fluff #seokjin smut #jin #seokjin #taehyung scenario #writing

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write-it-motherfuckers · 4 years

Note

Hey hun! Are you still reblogging prompt fills?

This is a fair question, but still… ouch.

I have actually answered this a few times, but I think it’s been a while so I’ll answer and explain again, Darling.

The short answer, is yes, the longer and more complicated answer as to why it doesn’t seem like I am right now, is bellow.

This blog has grown rather rapidly ever since it was first created. Because of this, I quickly found myself overwhelmed, and had to start setting down boundaries for myself, boundaries that I’m still working on, and still ignore from time to time. (I’m trying I promise)

Eventually it all evened out, and I managed to set up a bit of a system for myself, which allowed me to respond to things in a somewhat swift fashion.

Then tumblr had some major changes.

These changes threw off the way I did things, and made my past system, completely impossible. Since I was already getting thousands of notifications at this point, and barely keeping on top of things, this naturally set me back very very quickly.

To my dismay, I became about 300 responses behind (not counting inbox and PM stuff, but we will get to that).

What followed was a clumsy struggle, as I tried desperately to get back into the swing of things and catch up, whilst trying to set up a new system.

Cue the beginning of the end laptop issues.

These issues made handling the blog incredibly difficult, and very quickly I started to find responses stacking up again. To my increasing panic, I was now 800 responses behind, and no matter how fast I seemed to get through them, I couldn’t seem to catch up, as more simply kept coming in.

It was around this point that it all kind of got to me, and I ended up having to start taking partial breaks from the blog, because it was affecting my mental health negatively.

Again, this meant that responses started to accumulate again, in my absence.

Flash forward a bit, and I’m still having laptop issues regularly, and still having to have breaks from the blog, every couple of days, but I’ve finally got a system down, and I’m starting to chip away at the massive pile of pending responses, hampered slightly by the fact that I can only post a certain amount of posts a day, or risk the queue simply eating my new prompts.

Everything changed when the fire nation att-

Then came the Australian bushfires.

I wont go into immense detail, as it’s already been laid out under the fire update tag, from when it first happened, but basically I was right in the thick of it, and had no other choice but to put the blog on the back burner Ba Dum Tiss completely, for the first time.

(Can you tell I use dark humour as a coping mechanism?)

During this time I was unable to do ANYTHING in regards the blog, as I was focused more on keeping myself and everyone around me, alive, and trying to stop our houses from burning down. Literally.

Once again, this meant that the notifications and responses, quickly built up.

After making it back, I managed to get through all of those notifications after a few days, and the result had me very anxious and overwhelmed.

At this point, we’d made it up to 1800 responses, that had built up and needed to be addressed.

The rest of the time between then and now, is just an even longer and more complicated pattern of laptop issues, mental health issues, tumblr issues, and environmental issues, all of which continued to steadily force me further and further behind in my responses.

Now keep in mind the fact that I also have PM’s and Asks that need answering, which have also built up over time. I can’t neglect one in favour of the other, and so I take it in turns, responding and reblogging things when I can, and then answering public and private messages when I can. Sometimes one is easier to do one day, that the other, and thus I get more in that area done, than I do in comparison.

Unfortunately, a lot of the PM’s I get, are very time sensitive, but even then, I’m incredibly behind simply because of the sheer number of them I get on a daily basis.

The current count is as follows.

Drafts (Where I save all posts that need responses, aka prompt responses, comments, and additions)

2,076

Prompt Requests (Which are currently closed by the way)

436

PM’s (From the chat function)

237

Asks (Both private and public)

351

Average notifications a day (That need to be searched through so that they can be saved to the drafts and responded to when it reaches their turn)

1,000 - 6,000

You starting to see why I’m taking more time to respond to things, than I use to?

Yeah, thought so.

All of that being said, please don’t get me wrong. I adore this blog, I adore the little community that has formed here, and I adore reading and responding to you all. It makes me very very happy when I see that this place is busy, and I actually get rather disheartened when I see that activity drop. (Something I definitely need to work on, since I know it’s unhealthy. But that’s another conversation entirely.)

However!

I am only one person.

Keeping up with the basic needs of this blog, as big as it is right now, is a massive task in and of itself, but trying to catch up on over six months of calamity build up? That’s a real fucking kicker.

In a perfect world, I would have a well functioning laptop (Working on it thanks to my lovely donors), and tumblr would have an easier way of navigating the drafts, other than scrolling through every single page, one by one, to get to the oldest (Just doing that on this shitty laptop, takes about forty minutes on average.).

And whilst these things wouldn’t fix my poor mental health, or what is happening in my day to day life, it would make it immensely easier to accomplish.... literally anything actually.

Unfortunately, this is not a perfect world.

I’m sorry that I’m letting so many of you down, and that so many of you have been left waiting for responses/answers/replies for months, but there is genuinely nothing I can do that can improve on this, that isn’t going to be detrimental to my mental and physical health. I cannot simply spend every waking hour, on this blog.

Luckily most of you have been incredibly supportive and understanding, and I don’t think I would have managed to keep this up, if it wasn’t for all of you. And no, I didn’t take this ask as something rude or insensitive, I understand it was probably just a genuine and innocently posed question.

Thank you so much to all of you, and I promise that I’m doing the best I can.

Please continue to be patient with me.

#write-it-motherfuckers #mod speaks #ask #asks #askbox #ask box #inbox #answer #answers #reply #response #faq #wow this is long #sorry #long post

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cafebourbonstreet · 4 years

Text

Personal Injury Attorney in Duluth Georgia

Albany Accidental Injuries Lawyers –– Kenneth S. Nugent, P.C.

Accidents are a lot more commonplace than most people expect and more often than not due to someone’s negligence or carelessness. Inside the aftermath of any type of accident where injuries were sustained, it can be only natural to feel totally disruptive emotions. Anger, regret and frustration can cause the head to spin, but it is essential to keep a cool head about these items to guarantee a much more positive outcome in the end.

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Should I Make an attempt to Negotiate using the Insurance Adjuster?

Anyone can advise you that insurance providers happen to be in location to cover the damages in the case of any sort of accident, among a number of other functions they perform. But, don’t allow this to seemingly heroic position distract from the point that insurance providers are “for-profit” organizations who aren’t going to make money by signing plenty of checks.

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Who Is Able To Be Named in a Accidental Injuries Lawsuit?

Instantly, it may look very obvious who is mainly responsible for any sort of accident and through the help of our knowledgeable team we can be sure the at-fault parties compensate you for your injuries. However, after a full report on the case we could find there are multiple parties liable for your damages. We are going to apply our experience and insights to including all parties liable for your injuries from the lawsuit.

Some of these entities and people we have expertise in negotiating with include:

-Individuals

-Businesses

-Government institutions or cities

-Defective products

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Each of the defendants should be in the lawsuit in a special way with special things to consider for each one of these. Furthermore, you can anticipate most if not completely to rely on professional legal support to assist them to contest your claims. If you will be trying to consider multiple parties each having a team of lawyers, it can be crucial for you to do so with proper legal support.

What is the time limit for filing a private Injury Claim?

The state Georgia has set a period limit for many who want to make claims against at-fault parties for injuries or death within an accident. This time around frame is referred to as the statute of limitations and will vary among states. In Georgia, some time limit for submitting a lawsuit for private injury is 2 years from your date from the accident which cause injury or death. If the claim is just not made in this particular time period, the case becomes void.

Call our law office for more information on the statute of limitations and what you can do regarding your lawsuit if a while has recently lapsed from your date from the accident.

Exactly How Much is My Own Injury Claim Actually Worth?

Accidental injuries cases can be worth between a few thousand dollars to vast amounts of money and there is no way to look for the value with out a proper evaluation from the case with a qualified professional. This is the reason we provide free consultations to ensure that our clients use a no-obligations chance to learn more about their options and choose the very best road to the compensation they require.

Here are the most important factors that can see how much your own personal injury case could recover:

-How the accident happened

-Future leads to health problems

-Injuries suffered

-Future medical cost and lost income

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Typically, accidental injury cases is going to be settled away from court through negotiations using the other party. There are many reasons either side prefer to keep the case come going ahead of the courts, our prime costs of the court battle being the main reason. But, with the law office of Kenneth S. Nugent, P.C. we prepare every case as if it will likely be fought in a courtroom.

Just How Long Will It Take for My Welsh LA Accidental Injuries Case to be Settled?

Your lawsuit should be drafted and submitted prior to it being come to the negotiation process. If no settlement may be accomplished from the negotiations, it will have to be come to courts. All in all, you can find a great many factors that can change the time that it takes for any accidental injury lawsuit to arrive at its final settlement.

The specifics from the accident itself can have a huge role to experience from the time of the proceedings. Some of the factors that can arrived at pay is definitely the extent of damages inflicted as well as the harshness of any injuries. You might imagine, the damages for serious injuries can be extremely high although that of the small accident may be lighter.

Some of the Critical Factors Which affect the Duration of a private Injury Case in Albany

Settlements

The settlements that you are wishing for could affect the time of the lawsuits. As an example, in the event you expect top-dollar inside your compensation, the negotiations usually takes much longer to arrive at the conclusion you need. In case you are more flexible inside your expectations, you can save some of the time and energy to reach a conclusion.

If you were to accept the 1st provide you are provided through the insurance adjuster working on behalf of the plaintiff, you could find your conclusion is reached very quickly. Although, as mentioned, this might only be a compact part of what your case is actually worth.

Medical Expenses

You will be asked to provide a full account of your own medical records and expenses towards the insurance adjusters before they may be ready for negotiations. The reason being thy would want to be sure that the injuries you possess mentioned from the lawsuit did indeed come from the accident and are not associated with other injuries or conditions you may have had prior to the incident in question.

Medical expenses form a large percentage of the payouts insurance providers make each and every year plus they do their utmost to lower the expenses they need to cover. Among their most effective techniques would be to prove your injuries were caused or partially due to some factor unrelated towards the accident.

If it is not effective, the next move will be to downplay the seriousness of your injuries and lower the amount of treatment you have got to cover your full recovery down the road.

These are typically some very excellent reasons to use a strong case once you enter a personal injury lawsuit. Get started with a complete examination as soon after the accident as possible. This will likely put a period-stamp in your injuries and add weight to the case. It is going to take some time to collect every one of the medical documents and this can improve the time period of proceedings.

Furthermore, the insurance plan adjusters will not be able to set up a complete conclusion from the case till you have reached the purpose of Maximum Medical Improvement. After that point, you will find a bit more time when they draft the settlement papers.

Other Factors

As a general rule, these cases can run using for quite some time, dependant upon the specifics of each case. It is actually entirely possible that some of the more straightforward cases to be completed within months, but this really is generally considered the exception.

Having qualified legal support operating for you is a vital way of expediting this technique. It may be by investing in a powerful case, your own personal injury attorney can bring about a favorable settlement in the court. However, if not, they are prepared to accept the court to trial.

Typically, all parties involved will attempt to arrive at a favorable settlement from the courts because court battles are long, complex and incredibly expensive. But Kenneth S. Nugent, P.C. Law Practice is always ready for any eventuality.

If I’m Partially to blame, Could It Be Still Possible to File a private Injury Lawsuit in Albany, GA?

Although you may were partially to blame for the accident, there exists still an opportunity that one could recover damages under Georgia Law. In Georgia, the modified comparative negligence law allows injured parties to recoup damages as long as they may be under 50% liable for the accident and injuries.

Do Accidental Injuries Attorney in Albany, GA Cost A Lot?

Typically, professional legal services are a costly affair, but financial status can’t be a factor that prevents anyone from obtaining the compensation they should come up with a full recovery. For this reason, in the event you call what the law states type of Kenneth S. Nugent, P.C., we provide you our complete pair of services over a “No Win, No Fee” basis.

In other words, our company offers our expert insights, professional skills and consultations completely free of cost, until we win the case so we all take a piece of the winnings. This arrangement is also called the "contingency" plan and practiced by most accidental injury lawyers in Georgia.

It is actually our expertise in utilizing accidental injury plaintiffs, that the aftermath of your accident regardless of how serious is just not a great time to be collecting more financial responsibility. Along with expenses for treatment along with other concerns, you will discover a chance that the injured person is going to be facing reduced wages by not continuing to be effective as normal.

We provide you with the contingency plan basis to make certain that financial need will not likely stand in the way of a suitable legal help with protecting your interests and recovering full compensation for your injuries.

For The Free Consultation and Case Evaluation Contact Kenneth S. Nugent, P.C. Accidental Injuries Lawyers Today!

If you have been injured within an accident due to the carelessness and neglect of some other party, there is the right through the law into a full compensation. The procedure of carrying a lawsuit till its favorable settlement can be complex and loaded with small problems. For this reason you will want accomplished legal support.

In the Law Practice of Kenneth S. Nugent, P.C., there exists a full team of specialist to present you with the support and council you should get the coverage you deserve. Your focus ought not to be on negotiating using the shrewd insurance adjusters or calculating what this whole ordeal will almost certainly cost you. We will handle the heavy lifting while you concentrate on the most crucial task accessible, your full recovery.

#albany ga personal injury lawyers #personal injury attorney albany

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ericmhe · 4 years

Text

A Story Rough Draft

“Peripheral” - working title

“Yes, I work at home, but I'm still working, you know,” Greg explained to his sister, trying to avoid having her kids dropped off on him again.

No one seemed to respect the basic premise, least of all his own family and it was kind of driving him crazy.

“Hang on, sounds like the mail's here.”

“See, you can just go get the mail as soon as it shows up. Why can't you look after your nephew and niece?”

“Because walking out to the mailbox is only a couple of minutes, and kids take hours of attention?”

“Come on, it would save me so much in babysitters.”

“And it could cost me my job,” he muttered as he opened the mailbox. Unfortunately, having to hold the phone up by clamping it between his face and shoulder meant it was right up against his mouth, and she actually heard what was meant to be an exasperated comment to himself.

He was enduring the aggrieved reaction as he walked back and flipped through the mail when it happened.

It was just in the corner of his eye, blurry and indistinct. Some kind of insect, or whatever centipedes would count as, at least a foot long. It sported far too many legs writhing about randomly, bizarrely asymmetrical with some limbs just far too long. He shouted as he jumped up, dropping his phone onto the concrete porch.

But the horrible writhing creature had vanished. It was just a harmless branch of a ground shrub, dried and browned. He felt his face get hot as he looked around, but fortunately none of the neighbors were out and he probably wasn't seen. He picked up the stick and threw it in the yard. Then he picked up the phone and tried to apologize.

Things were normal for a while, going from day to day taking care of his cat and dog, Sam and Fred. The names were an aborted joke he feared might be a little too nerdy. Working from the computer and fielding the odd phone call filled most of the day's work hours. Then one night, while he was brushing his teeth, a vague blurry reflection slid in the corner of his vision. A long body that looked covered in spikes. Wiggling antennae, and way too many legs for reason. He fought the reaction to jump away, but kept his body still, and only moved his eyes, trying to bring it into focus.

A ball of fuzz this time, some carpet threads and pet hair that had escaped the vacuum in a big unsightly clump. He threw it away and wondered what kind of mental disorder could be responsible for a recurring hallucination. He spent some time trying to search for hallucination symptoms on the internet with little luck. He fought the impulse for a bit but eventually took to forums and question websites trying to figure out if anyone else had similar experiences.

“What, some kind of bug? Like a spider?” some anonymous poster with a string of numbers asked on his thread.

“Try something more like 'Hell's most hardcore centipede' if you want a mental image.” he replied with a huff he knew full well no one would see online..

His work suffered the next couple of days from all the time inquiring online to no avail. Maybe he'd have to figure out a way to talk to someone in the mental health field. Get some drugs at least, provided it was affordable.

The third time, he was working. He tensed and drew his feet up into his chair. He would not acknowledge it. He would not. Would not. Bugs had too many limbs to start with, but the thing he could but couldn't quite see in the reflection of his monitor shamed even the most nightmarish millipede. Unlike a millipede's strange gait this thing had no sense of rhythmic motion, just flailing asymmetrical chaos.

Sweating, he forced himself to stare ahead and keep typing, ignoring the thing that seemed to be beside him. The reflection grew more frantic. His head began to ache, making reading his own writing impossible. He shut his eyes and kept typing. The headache grew worse, pulsing, with a steady drumbeat. His skin crawled, as if those writhing legs were just about to touch him. He couldn't stand any more; something was about to break... Fred barked his annoying high pitched yap.

His eyes flew open, but the flailing monstrosity reflected beside him was still there. He spun around in his chair. This time there wasn't even anything there to fool his eyes. The dog was indeed barking at nothing, just the wall behind him. Fred was lovable but dumb, he wasn't even pointed at where the bug thing had been.

“How are you going to protect anyone if you can't even tell where to bark?”

A few more incidents let him figure out some patterns. Ignoring it brought pain, and no medication he tried dulled it any, it only went away with time. Nothing seemed to change his condition, not changing his hours or diet or sleeping schedule. However it felt crazy to keep spinning around to try and catch glimpse of a nightmare bug that vanished in an instant. More likely it was never there at all, so why should he keep stopping his work for it? Maybe it was only for a few seconds, but damn it he didn't want to give in on principal.

Then again maybe he was just going crazy.

Then one day a political volunteer rung his doorbell to convince Greg to vote for a favored candidate in the upcoming primary. Greg wasn't really listening. surprised to find himself jealous of the man's eyebrows though they were partially hidden by his glasses and the glint catching on the reflection. His own eyebrows were balding, and this guy’s looked straight model worthy. He let the man talk at him for a while, guessing that most people would be prone to closing the door on his face and he hadn't seen anyone face to face himself for a while. In a way it was nice to be talked to, even about a topic he found boring. Now if there was a way to trade eyebrows, he'd vote for whoever this guy wanted.

He was trying to distract himself with these thoughts from the antics in his peripheral vision. He didn’t want to appear crazy. However when the operative looked up from his pamphlet, he shouted in surprise and threw his clipboard at the wall next to Greg's door.

“What the hell?!”

Greg, shocked, turned to look. Of course nothing was there. “What did you see?” he asked, heart pounding.

The man’s excellent eyebrows had disappeared into his hair. “Sorry. I thought,” but he trailed off.

“Was it something like a centipede?” Greg pressed.

But the man was still staring at the wall, looking confused and flushed. “Um. I should get going, quotas and stuff. Don’t forget to vote,” he called over his shoulder as he hurried down the stairs.

Greg at first felt exultant, and then terrified. It wasn't just in his head! So what the hell was it? He started to go back in and noticed the clipboard, picked it up and turned around to yell at the guy only to find he was already exiting the driveway in his car. Oh well, he'd hang on to it for a while in case he came back for it. He had other things to worry about. He suddenly remembered the thing disappearing when Sam hopped on the desk – at first he hadn't thought much of it, but maybe that meant being observed by anything would dispel its presence.

He resolved to find out and went to the store, bought some cameras, and got the largest storage he could afford and set them up around the house. They caught the thing on tape, sort of. Only in the spots out of the camera's focus did the thing appear, looking just as hazy and indistinct as did in his own vision. He even showed the footage around and everyone confirmed they saw something, but usually gave him a bit of grief for trying to hide a bad special effect and prank people.

It was real, a hundred percent confirmed, but it either would not or could not be captured as a clear image. It could only show up as an unclear one, in the field of view that was out of focus. If he just got a ton more cameras and covered his house with them so no spot in it was out of focus then it couldn't get to him. The venture would very expensive and time consuming. Power would be an issue, for now he would try setting up only in whatever room he was using that moment. He'd focus on his work room since he spent the most time there and had the most episodes, only the bathroom came close.

A couple of days went by and it seemed to have worked. No more creepy crawly nightmares scampering about on the edges of vision. There weren't any headaches yet, but they had been somewhat infrequent most of the time. It'd be a while longer before he was sure he'd thwarted them. The bug showed up alone sometimes, but the headache never happened without the bug so there must be some kind of connection. There were still unknowns, but he felt confident he had won. He set back to work hoping to make up for lost time. He pushed it so long he found himself falling asleep at his desk. He'd have to get up before he really dozed off. Just one more...

He knew he had to be somewhere to do something. The sensation was vague but compelling, driving him to a brisk walk. He rounded the corner around a building and was caught in the flash of a camera. The flash of light wasn't just disorientating because of the momentary vision impact but it actually burned. He jumped back around the corner, stunned by the burned flesh peeling away. He ran back in a hurry and took an alley, away from the crowds.

He came out alright and scanned the people in the street for any cameras. He ran along, wincing away from any flash of light he saw. He tried going down a back alley and nearly walked into a giant burning eyeball. Feeling vaguely disappointed in himself on some creative level he backed away, barely aware of his skin peeling away in a terrible burn.

Finally he was at his destination, but there was a line of people holding cameras making him pause. How could he get around that? Some of them were taking pictures of something, whatever it was it wasn't important, but it was forcing him to keep a distance. Even so the flashes of light were causing blisters here and there, deepening wounds and exposing bone as he tried to find a way around.

No good the whole area was blocked entirely. He decided to try risking it, but as he approached the whole crowd seemed to pivot towards him and start snapping pictures. He backed away trailing smoke and flakes of blackened skin. He finally realized he didn't feel the pain that he should. So, a dream then... what was so important though? It wasn't like any dream he'd ever had.

Greg's vision was blurry as his eyes opened and light from the monitor made him want to close them again. He'd fallen asleep in his computer desk in spite of himself. Well, his back was going to be out of it for the rest of the day. It might almost be a welcome distraction from the headache he had.

Headache?

When he first tried to open his eyes he found the action strangely difficult but with some effort he forced them to open and immediately saw his computer's monitor in sleep mode. In the 'black mirror' of the powered down computer screen he could see himself and … something else. Strangely none of his normal surroundings were reflected in the monitor, just a strange cluster of shapes that seemed to make no sense. It was like an escher painting come to life but worse somehow, the effort to focus on any one group of shapes only resulting in his gaze sliding away from it. He tried to turn away from it but found his neck wouldn't respond. Probably stiff from his nap. He could hear Fred whining and scratching at the door. He'd hardly noticed the noise before, it seemed to be drowned out by something whirling through his own thoughts. Wasn't that supposed to go the other way around?

He tried to use his feet to spin the chair but they wouldn't listen. Now he was getting worried. Still, the bizarre thing or things in the monitor couldn't be helping his headache. He tried pushing backwards, pleased to find that it worked but wondering why he couldn't move to the sides.

A wave of pain and nausea hit him with such force he wanted to reel, double over, physically react in some way, but for some reason he seemed to be stuck staring at the reflection in the monitor.

This felt far worse than it had ever been before.

Another wave, at least as strong as the first.

It felt like his head might split open as he struggled against the urge to vomit.

He looked around as much as his nearly immobile head would allow but saw no sign of the bug apparition.

Another wave hit. They seemed to keep getting stronger. Or his resistance was weakening. Maybe both.

He fell back as he started to stand up. What was happening? No bug to be seen, but this headache was something horrible. Why couldn't he turn? They areas around his eyes and ears started to feel wet. He intended to look around for something to dab at the area, or to find the bug, but his head stayed looking forward. 'How many marketers would pay blood sacrifices to claim such a captive audience? He wondered trying to take his mind off the pain and nausea with a quip to himself.

Another wave.

This time he actually seemed to slide from the chair some, but his head craned to keep the reflection of the monitor in sight. He struggled to push himself back up. He thought about the dreams, and crazy as it was... he went back to the desk and flipped one camera down, letting it record nothing but desk and dark.

Yet another wave and he started to slide from the chair again, nearly slamming his chin into his keyboard's resting spot.

He pushed himself back up shaking the whole while. He tried to reach for the monitor but his hands wouldn't reach that way. He could grab just about anything else though, so since he couldn't turn to look for the other camera, he settled for taking things from his desk and throwing them in the general direction he knew it was. Books, his coin tray, some old CDs. He was about to sadly start with his mouse and keyboard when he finally heard a clatter that sounded right.

The next wave of pain came instantly afterwards.

He hit his head on the desk, but the pain of that was lost in what was already happening. He shuffled backwards, leaning into his rolling chair, throwing the last few things on his desk behind him. Nothing happened. He made his way back as quickly as he could force himself until he hit the wall.

Another wave and his vision was going blurry. He couldn't even see himself in the monitor any more. The strange shapes were the only thing to be seen as they shifted around in mind-bending bizarre patterns.

The wet feeling increased and his back spasmed. He flailed against the wall wildly for a moment until he managed to get a hold of himself enough to push himself up. The last camera went down after a long moment of scrambling wildly trying to grab at his shelf and nearly immediately he saw the tangle of buggy limbs that had been haunting him.

It was the easiest thing in the world to turn and find nothing. He looked back at the monitor through the corner of his eye and only saw a normal monitor reflecting a faint gleam of light. He laughed.

How was it possible? The grotesque bug monster too horrific to look upon directly was the good guy of the scenario? Something worse constantly behind him...

He needed to get rid of the cameras after all. He really hoped he could find all the receipts...

One weekend when his sister brought her kids over they came running to their mother screaming and sobbing. They were unintelligible and confused their mother.

He knelt down to talk to them and asked, “was it a bug?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Don't worry about it. It only looks scary.”

“Um...” the kids radiated uncertainty.

“Worry about what it's warning you about,” he smiled devilishly as his sister glared daggers at him.

“What is it?”

“You know how some people befriend crows? They give them food and the crows share shiny things? It's like they're friends, even if the crows are never pets. The bug creature is like that, I don't know what it gets from me, but it's always watching out for me. Us now I guess. So don't worry about it. I try to wave back sometimes, I like to think it likes it. I mean, it's waving at me all the time.”

His sister sighed, “I guess it's a good thing I didn't get you to start watching them after all.”

#monster #horror #horror story #short story #my writing

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dimpled-gukkie · 4 years

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Namjoon partial drabble

@rose--thorn I know I owe you a roommate namjoon fic but I lost inspiration for the plot of the one I currently have. I promise I’ll start a new one for you but for now here’s the draft of the original non-traditional roommate au

warnings: oc has a panic attack, mentions of anxiety and drinking, possibly slight cursing

pairing: namjoon x reader, platonic hobi x reader

also sorry tumblr won’t let me tag you but i’m hoping you’ll see this

It’s the night before your first day of college and you’re sitting alone in your dorm, staring out your window at the courtyard that lies below. You can hear people milling about in the hallway, their voices carrying through the thin walls and you lean back to catch snippets of their conversation. Something about the crappy dining hall. Movement catches your attention and you lean forward to see who else is alone at this hour. A boy stands down there, a journal pressed into his hand as he lays down on one of the benches and looks to the sky. His outfit is rather plain: black cargo pants, a white shirt paired with a black button down jacket, but his orange shoes make you smile. He must look at the sky for ten minutes, you turn to your phone to feel less creepy about spying on this boy, and only when he sits up do you look back down at him. The journal is opened and he writes frantically on the page, trying to catch all his thoughts like a sponge absorbing water before it overflows. When the pen finally drops from his hand he looks up like he could feel your eyes on him and you make eye contact before you can look away. You smile sheepishly at him, raising your hand to wave and he does the same, his cheeks dimpling.

You go to bed that night alone, your roommate still with your next door neighbors to drink away the first day jitters. You feel a little less lonely though with the memory of the boy with the dimpled smile to keep you company.

The next time you see dimples, what you nicknamed him to your best friend, was the next day on campus while you were walking to your first class. You and your roommates had walked your classes together a few days prior, and yet despite this you left earlier than necessary in case you got lost. As you glanced down to the map on your phone for the nth time that morning, you bumped into a broad chest, stumbling back a few steps but managing to catch yourself. You notice the orange shoes first, and panic takes over you as you begin to process who this could be. You hope to anyone listening that it is not the boy whose smile you replayed in your head all night, the one who you dressed up for this morning in case you saw him in passing. But all you wanted to do was see him in passing, especially if he actually did think you were some creepy stalker last night. You can’t face rejection from such a handsome stranger. When you finally do bring yourself to face him, you deflate a little despite your thoughts when you’re met with a heart smile rather than a dimpled one. “Sorry about that.” You say quickly, tucking hair behind your ear nervously. “I wasn’t looking where I was going.” You say weakly, trying to mask your disappointment behind being shy.

“Oh are you lost? Need help?” The boy asks and you nod, cheeks coloring in embarrassment. You hand the phone over to him which was attempting to direct you to your building but you’re unfortunately rather directionally challenged. “Oh! I’m going there too, we can go together.” He says warmly, already beginning to walk off in the opposite direction of what you were going in.

“Thanks for helping me.” You say and he just shrugs it off with a grin.

“Of course. Don’t feel bad about it either, everyone needs help sometimes.”

“Yeah I know but I feel like that stereotypical freshman getting lost on the first day.” You whine which only makes the boy grin. He pokes your cheek playfully, giggling when you swat it away.

“You’re so cute.” He coos the same way you do to a baby. “I’m Hoseok by the way.”

“Y/n.”

“Nice to meet you new best friend.” Hoseok says.

“Wow we’re progressing rather quickly don’t you think?” You tease which only makes Hoseok’s smile widen. You weren’t even sure that was physically possible.

“I can just feel it. Besides I’m getting tired of Yoongi anyways.”

“Wow, you’re using me as a replacement. I’m hurt Hoseok. I’m crying on the inside. Sobbing.” Hoseok rolls his eyes at your dramatics.

“Are you sure you’re not a drama student? I know this junior named Jin who would gladly show you the ropes to the department.” Hoseok says.

“I should be in the drama department. I certainly have the face for it.”

“Oh god, I found another version of Jin.”

“I don’t know who Jin is but I like him already.” You laugh.

“He’s like you but on steroids. Everything that comes out of his mouth sounds like a fake text.”

“Sounds like my kind of dude.” You say.

“Hoseok! Hey, hobi!” You hear a voice yell, and turn to see a boy run frantically towards the both of you. Both his hands are waving in the air as he approaches even though you both have turned, like it hasn’t clicked that he’s gathered your attention. When his eyes fall to you, his arms drop and he smiles sheepishly. Only then does it click that this is the boy from yesterday with the dreamy smile. You had thought maybe you caught a break when it was Hoseok you ran into but the odds are really never in your favor.

“Oh hi, Joonie!” Hoseok says and you smile a little. Joonie is a cute name. “What’s up?”

“I lost the key to our dorm again.” Joonie says exasperatedly.

“You’re insufferable. Why did I agree to be roommates with you again?” Hoseok teases and you enjoy the slight blush on Namjoon’s cheeks. You wonder if you would like it more if you were the cause of it. Hoseok pulls a set of keys out of his pocket and hands them over to a gracious Joonie.

“Thanks man, you’re a real life saver. The best roommate a guy could ask for.” The boy smiles, before nodding to you. “Hi I’m Namjoon.” He sticks his hand out towards you and you hastily take it in your grasp. His hand engulfs your own comfortingly, a lazy warmth taking over you.

“Y/n.” You say softly and he gives a nod.

“I wish we could’ve met under better circumstances.” You’re not sure if he means yesterday or because he lost his keys so you just nod back. “Well I’m going back to the dorm, I’m starving.” He says decidedly, turning around. “It was nice to meet you again Y/n.” He throws over his shoulder.

“Don’t use all my dining points for the day!” Hoseok screams at Namjoon’s departing figure.

The next time you see Namjoon is a week later when you’ve just had a panic attack. Your roommates had decided to drink in their dorm again and you went in to sit and hang out with them, not wanting to feel like a fourth wheel to their rapidly-forming trio. You weren’t expecting it to creep up on you, your anxiety manifesting and reducing you to hyperventilating while tears stream down your cheeks. As calm as you could you ducked back into your room before phoning Hoseok, who had given you his number the same day you met. You hate to bother him at midnight on a school night but you didn’t want to be alone and with your roommates still giggling next door it seemed like you were going to be spending another night by yourself.

“Hello?” Hoseok answered, voice slipping into a yawn.

“Oh sorry Hobi, were you gonna go to sleep?” You say quietly, trying to keep your voice from cracking. Despite this, you could hear it waver as your mind replayed the incident causing your breath to hitch and another attack to rapidly approach.

“What’s wrong?” Hoseok asks and you start to sniffle.

“Can I come over? I don’t want to be alone right now.”

“Of course! Wait no, stay there and I’ll come get you okay?” You hum in response, slumping back against the wall by the door. “I’ll be right there!”

In two minutes a slightly sweaty and panting Hoseok arrives at your door, knocking frantically until you answer it. As soon as the door is opened he pulls you into his arms, shushing you quietly while you silently cry again, your shoulders shaking slightly. “It’s alright. You’re okay.” When you finally quiet down, Hoseok urges you to grab your keys before taking you to his dorm.

His hands slide up and down your arms comfortingly as you sit on his bed, Namjoon making you a cup of hot tea while Hoseok wraps you in all the blankets he has. You can’t help the small smile pulling at your lips as he dotes on you. He smiles back softly at you in response. “Wanna talk about it?” Hoseok asks once he’s deemed you comfortable enough.

“I-I had a panic attack earlier when I was with my roommates.”

“And they just left you?” Hoseok asks, his voice rising slightly which makes you flinch.

“Hoseok.” Namjoon scolds, placing a warm hand on your covered knee. “Do you have any idea why this happened?”

“When I get really anxious I usually have them and drinking is one of my triggers.” You say softly, gratefully using the cup of tea Namjoon gives you as a distraction. You watch it swirl around as you wait for their reaction.

“But they did it in front of you anyways?” He asks softly, rubbing his thumb over your kneecap. You can barely feel the movements through the mound of blankets Hoseok has wrapped you up in but the gesture alone is enough to solace you.

“They didn’t know and I thought I would be okay.”

“Well next time they decide to drink you can come over here okay?” Hoseok interjects and you startle a little, forgetting he was sitting beside you.

“I don’t want to be an inconvenience. I’m already keeping you awake tonight when you were about to go to sleep.”

“You’re not- and will never be- an inconvenience.” Hoseok says matter-of-factly.

“Besides, college students are supposed to be sleep deprived.” Namjoon jokes, managing to pull a laugh from you.

The three of you sit and talk for two hours until you’re all blinking tiredly, swaying slightly in an effort to stay awake. “I should go back to my room.” You say, pausing mid-sentence to yawn.

“You can just stay here.” Hoseok says, already moving to climb under his sheets.

“I don’t want-“

“If you’re going to say 'be an inconvenience’ I’m going to fight you.” Hoseok grumbles and you giggle slightly.

“Alright, alright. If you insist.” Hopping off of Hoseok’s bed you spread one of your blankets on the floor between the boys’ beds.

“What are you doing?” Namjoon asks and you blink sleepily at him while you cover yourself with the rest of the blankets.

“Laying down?”

“No shit sherlock. You’re not sleeping on the floor though. Get up, go in my bed.” Namjoon says and you shake your head, turning onto your side.

“I’m fine really, the floor is comfortable. Besides it’s your room.”

“Exactly. You’re a guest and guests sleep in beds.”

“Goodnight Joonie.” You say, turning over so your back is facing him. You expect the conversation to end there as you close your eyes but yelp when Namjoon picks you up from your bundle of blankets and places you onto his bed.

“Goodnight Y/n.” He smirks.

“I’m just going to get down again.” You say and Hoseok groans loudly from the other side of the room before throwing a ball at the light to turn it off.

“Just sleep in the same bed or come sleep in mine. I don’t really care, I just want to go to sleep.” You and Namjoon look at each other with wide eyes at Hoseok’s outburst before you quickly shuffle closer to the wall and Namjoon climbs in next to you.

“He’s grumpy when he’s tired.” You giggle making Namjoon chuckle.

“Yeah he’s not a night-time person.” You both stare at each other while laying on his pillow before Namjoon clears his throat and turns away. You couldn’t really make out his expression but he almost looked flustered.

You wake up the next morning pinned against the wall as strong arms wrap around your waist and settle on your rib cage, palm spread wide as fingers faintly graze along the skin covered by your t-shirt. A thick thigh is placed between your own and you stare at it for several moments as your brain pieces together what happened last night. Your cheeks are warm like Namjoon’s breath that brushes against the back of your neck, his soft snores filling the space of the quiet room. You’re frozen in place, unsure of whether you should try moving or wait for Namjoon to disentangle his legs from yours and to just bask in the feeling of being encased by his body. Hoseok ruins the moment for you though, yawning rather loudly and causing Namjoon to stir. Half asleep he rolls over, pulling you with him so now your thigh is resting between his, your frantic movements to separate from him awakening something between you. Your eyes widen frantically and you press your hands against his chest in a frenzy to get as far away from the impending compromising position as quickly as possible. Namjoon groans as you catapult off of him, rushing out a hurried “gotta pee” as you duck into the bathroom and look at your disheveled state in the mirror. Your eyes are puffy from your previous tears, a slight red tint to them that does nothing to dull the color of your face that’s seeping in secondhand embarrassment. Leaning back against the wall you let out a sigh, trying to avoid any thoughts of what it feels like to have Namjoon against you.

“Bro you didn’t.” Hoseok says suddenly, causing you to jump at the sudden noise. It seemed like he was next to you he was so loud.

“Hmmph?” You assume to be Namjoon sleepily hums.

“You got something to take care of Pinocchio.” Hoseok whispers, although he more so shouts it.

“Oh.” Namjoon mumbles before a loud thump sounds from the bedroom.

“My laptop! Break your own stuff Joonie, not mine!”

“Do you think that’s why she went to the bathroom so suddenly?” Namjoon whispers worriedly.

“I don’t know, she drank a lot of tea last night. But I’m sure waking up to a semi is probably awkward.” Hoseok says.

“Shh! What if she heard?”

“You worry too much. She probably won’t even say anything about it.”

“That’s worse.” Namjoon groans and you move away from the door to give them privacy. You had already heard the part you knew about. After going to the bathroom you emerge to a quiet room, Namjoon planted at his desk as he checks twitter on his laptop and Hoseok putting a sheet mask on his face. The silence is suffocating and you quickly try to kill it.

“What was that loud thump?” You ask, faking a yawn to make it seem like you aren’t wide awake at the moment.

“Namjoon fell out of his bed. Again.”

“Again?” You ask and Namjoon’s shoulders slump down into his chair a little more.

“I move a lot in my sleep.” He grumbles.

“How’d you sleep by the way?” Namjoon turns towards you and you struggle to not shy away from his gaze.

“Good. Thanks for letting me sleep in your bed.”

“You’re welcome.” Hoseok interjects and you both turn to look at him with raised brows. “If it wasn’t for me you’d both have slept on the floor just to be stubborn.” You hate that he’s probably right.

“Well I should probably get going. I have a 9 am class. I’ll buy you food at the dining hall today though as thanks for letting me stay over and umm..helping me through that.” You say already heading towards their door.

“You don’t have to.” Namjoon starts only to be interrupted by Hoseok.

“Shut up Joonie. We’ll meet you there at 1. Love you bestie, have a good day!” Hoseok shouts as you head out.

The dining hall is relatively empty when you, Namjoon, and Hoseok enter and you’re a little relieved. Normally you have to wait fifteen minutes just to get to the front of the sandwich line and today there’s no one there. Namjoon and Hoseok follow you chattering about their psychology class behind you. “Y/n our teacher played aerosmith again. There’s only so long I can listen to Steven Tyler screaming through a loud speaker.”

“Yeah that sucks.”

“It’s not so bad sitting next to our TA Seokjin though. He tries matching the notes.”

“You need to record that and send it to me.” You tell Namjoon and he smiles.

“Sure thing.” After ordering your sandwiches, which ended up taking fifteen minutes because Hoseok couldn’t decide what he wanted, you finally sit down at a table to eat.

“So I’ve been thinking, what if you move out? Can’t you switch into another dorm?” Hoseok says before biting at least half of his sandwich off.

“What if there’s nowhere to go and my roommates find out? That’d only make it worse.”

“Hmm… yeah that would suck. Are you sure there’s nothing else you could do?”

“I think I’m just going to have to stick it out.” You sigh, pursing your lips into a pout in disdain.

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spiders-hth-is-an-outlier · 5 years

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@propinquitous tagged me to talk about myself, and yeah, I generally do that when people don't run away fast enough, so here we go!

Name: Hth is my real-live name; it is pronounced “Heather.”

Fandoms: Oh, I dunno, I guess it depends on the entrance requirements? Right now I'm pretty absorbed in The Magicians, but I also follow fannishly and have recently written for Schitt's Creek and Supernatural, and I follow fannishly but do not write for the MCU and Star Trek and Star Wars and, like – other things, as they catch my fancy? Also many others over the years, but that's kind of where I am these days.

Where You Post: AO3, like all the classy bitches.

Most Popular Oneshot: According to kudos on AO3, it's In the Hands of Yes, a Stargate: Atlantis fic which I posted there in the Year of Gay Jesus 2009. Aliens make Rodney and Ronon get married; they're fine with it.

Most Popular Multi-Chapter Story: I actually very rarely wrote those until pretty late in my fannish career and I really only have four or five to choose from, but so far it's my current Magicians coffeeshop-AU-with-no-coffeeshop WIP, Pretty Good Year.

Favorite Story You Wrote: My favorite is always the one I'm currently writing, so definitely Pretty Good Year, but if you exclude that one as having an unfair advantage, I think – damn, I don't know. I'm pretty partial to Casanova (Fucked Me Over), the canon-verse Supernatural story I spent half a year on and nobody besides me gives a shit about (that's not true, I had some very nice commenters, but it's – more true than not). I don't know, I think maybe it's just too personal to resonate with other people? But I reread it periodically, and it's really satisfying to me every time, which is rare.

How You Choose Your Titles: I either jack a lyric from one of the songs I was listening to as I brainstormed the story, or else I lean toward really lean, noun-based titles that kind of underscore whatever I think is the High Concept of this particular story (T-Minus 1 is about the dramatic irony of David being on the verge of his big love story and not realizing it yet, The Bee-Charmer is about slowly approaching people without spooking them, wherein Ronon is both the bee-charmer and the swarm of bees, Lexicon is about communicating with actions vs with words. Yadda yadda.)

Do You Outline?: Depends on the length of the story. If it's a genine one-shot, where I don't plan on very many scene changes, it may just be in my head as a complete entity and I don't need to bother. If it takes place over any span of time, and I intend to show things developing and changing, yeah, I can't pace that out mentally without taking at least a few notes. Sometimes it's just a page or so of bullet-points to make sure I get from one place to the next, and sometimes when I'm feeling my way through a story, I'll just start writing, and I'll have a mini-draft that's just like “and then this happens and then they do this, and then Character X is like, I will never forgive you! And Character Y gets drunk and” I don't know, whatever. Those tend to run anywhere from five pages to twelve or fourteen. My outlines usually look – mostly like the finished versions, although there's always at least one point where they start to diverge enough that I have to reconcile the two versions somehow, and that's fun.

Complete: So on AO3 I have 44 complete stories, but that is a serious lowball in terms of my whole fannish career, which – I started writing X-Files fic in 96 or 97, and then wrote voluminously until I burned out on fandom in around 2009 or 10. Not everything I wrote during those thirteen years or so is up on AO3 – some of it I just don't like well enough to want it to be that easy to find (I mean, it's all on the internet somewhere, I don't kid myself that it's not findable, I just don't want to help), and a lot of it always felt like ephemera to me – 2k or 3k of something I just wanted to try in a particular voice or a tense or commentary on a minor character or a wonky crossover idea, stuff that I feel weird about Archiving as though it was ever meant to be a published product rather than me dicking around on mailing lists or on LJ. Also, I don't have any of the stories I wrote under the Betty Plotnick pseud on AO3, which was something like a dozen interconnected Sentinel stories and around the same number of unconnected boyband stories. I think they're still up on the internet somewhere too, but – I don't know, it's not that they weren't good, because some of them were. They just come from a weird part of my life and I haven't been motivated to think about them or look at them for a long time. Maybe someday. Anyway, if you add it all up it's a fucking lot of fic, but I think all the significant stuff is part of those 44 stories on AO3.

Coming Soon/Not Yet Started: I'm bailing through a Schitt's Creek story I signed up for right now; I think it'll be short but sweet, which seems to be the role that Schitt's Creek fandom is filling in my life at this time. There's also an Eliot-centric fic event happening at the end of the month, and I thought I'd knock something out for that, although I still haven't decided what, exactly. In terms of big projects, I have a running file of outlines and notes for, hrm, I think five Magicians stories and six or seven Supernatural stories (some of which I have actual words on and some of which I don't), and when I'm done with Pretty Good Year, I'll probably throw a dart at my laptop and pick one of those to actually write.

Do You Accept Prompts?: I mean – theoretically? I never know what's going to spark in my head and what's not, but I really like hearing ideas. I guess I accept “you should totally write this!” as long as it's understood that my response is likely to be “omg, I totally should!” followed by never doing that.

Upcoming Story You Are Most Excited to Write: I don't know, going back to that file of stuff, all of it is exciting enough to me to have put some thought into. Maybe the Lisa/Dean/Castiel story I outlined when I got really annoyed thinking about how much wiping Lisa's memory and leaving her with a dead boyfriend in her living room would have fucked up her life, and I decided I could come up with something better than that nonsense. I don't know if anyone would ever in a million years read a Lisa-POV story that spans four years and kind of makes Dean look like a careless dick, but it interests me, at least.

I don't know who I know that hasn't been tagged, but – how about @orchardsinsnow and @amagpie if they haven't been yet?

#hth fic

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magic-and-moonlit-wings · 6 years

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Chapter 14: Bittersweet Un-Birthday

Becoming The Mask

Well. Season 3 happened. Very little of this fic will be affected by that, since I already have an outline drafted, and none of this chapter was altered because I had it written already, but ... yeah. That happened.

Content warning for this chapter: a very distressing prank goes awry and creates a real risk of death instead of an illusory one, although no one actually dies.

Seriously, the prank where AAARRRGGHH 'attacked' Jim was stressful enough for the Jim in the show, but for a Jim who's actually had to fight people he's cared about to the death before (in the Darklands) and knows way more about AAARRRGGHH's history than they know he knows? I couldn't see this going well.

On a less distressing note, a quick reminder that Jim still thinks of 'Not Enrique' as 'Enrique', and the name 'Not Enrique' has not been introduced to the story yet even though the character has.

"Wake up, wake up," Barbara crooned. "Don't want to sleep through your big day! And your big day begins with – Mom's Special Birthday Pancakes!"

The pancake stack had a screaming syrup face. "He looks excited," said Jim, blowing out the burning candle nose.

"I know you're not crazy about your birthday," said Barbara. "But sixteen is a big one. We should do something tonight."

"Mom." Jim put the breakfast tray on his desk and hugged her. "We don't have to –"

"Non-negotiable." Barbara kissed the top of his head. "You eat. Once you've had your fill, there's another surprise waiting for you downstairs."

Barbara had over-mixed the pancake batter, which was easy to do, since perfectly-mixed batter for light and fluffy pancakes was supposed to still be lumpy, therefore looked under-mixed. The result was a rubbery texture that deeply appealed to her Changeling son.

She also seemed to have heated the skillet too high, searing the outsides of the pancakes before the insides were fully cooked. There were slash lines where she must have cut them open with the spatula to see how the insides were doing. Each pancake was thoroughly cooked this year, at the cost of a few burnt spots.

Jim usually favoured human food over troll food, but Barbara's cooking really felt like the best of both worlds. He loved Mom's Special Birthday Pancakes, even if he didn't love the occasion.

For the first five years of his human cover, this particular date had meant nothing to him.

It wasn't his birthday. Or, maybe it was; it wasn't like he knew.

It wasn't the anniversary of the day he'd been swapped for Jay-Jay, either; that was in three months – and, based on the human reproductive cycle, was probably also the approximate anniversary of when Jay-Jay had been conceived, which was … awkward to think about.

This was the anniversary of the day James Lake Senior had abandoned Barbara and young Jim, leaving Barbara without her husband or her biological son, alone with a Changeling she felt obligated to comfort, to make this day special for so that her ex-husband would not permanently taint all association with it …

Jim shook his head to dislodge the bitter thoughts and took another bite of the bitter pancakes. Mom had used baking soda instead of baking powder again, and possibly mixed up the tablespoon and teaspoon.

If Draal was going to be their housemate, Jim should sneak some of Barbara's cooking down to the basement for Draal to try.

It was later than usual when Jim went to brush his teeth. When he spat on the mirror, Jay-Jay was getting cuddle time. A goblin had crawled into the crib and partially unswaddled the baby, to hold him close and protect the tiny human from suffering skin hunger. Jim cooed. He didn't usually see this part of the daily routine.

"Happy birthday, Jay-Jay."

He spat on the mirror a few more times to enjoy the cuteness. He wished idly – should've tried that on the birthday candle – he could check on other Familiars, too. Enrique had been partially his idea, so he felt partially responsible for the kid's wellbeing, and it would be nice to confirm he was settling in okay. Jim supposed he could ask Enrique at some point to show him the other Enrique, but that was kind of a weird and personal request.

He neatened his hair and took his tray downstairs. Barbara sprang up from the table.

"Wait! Wait right there! Let me get your present ready in the garage."

"The garage?"

There was absolutely no chance at all that she'd bought him a car, but Jim had expressed interest in Vespa scooters. She'd said 'no' at the time, but if she'd planned it as a surprise …

"I know you've wanted one of these for a while, and now that you're the big one-six, maybe it's time. I think you'll get a lot of mileage out of it."

He heard a motor. Jim ran into the garage.

"Did you seriously get me a –?"

"A Food Magic 3000! From those cooking shows you like." Barbara beamed. "It slices – it dices –"

"It's perfect." Jim half-hugged the food processor and put it on a shelf to hug his mother. "I knew you'd remember. I …" He picked up the Food Magic again. "I can't wait to cook you something with this. I've got to get this to the kitchen."

He couldn't find an unoccupied nook in the kitchen for future storage, so for the moment he left it sitting proudly on the counter and grabbed a dishcloth to make sure it wasn't dusty from the garage.

This present really was much more in character of his mom. You could hurt yourself with one, usually by dropping it on your foot, but every day Dr Lake saw multiple people at the hospital who'd been injured riding non-enclosed vehicles.

"JIM!" Toby let himself in and didn't bother shutting the door behind him. "Jim, you've gotta come quick, there's an emergency at –" He froze, realizing Barbara was there too. "At, the place. With the thing." Toby's eyes darted around as he backtracked. "Not even an emergency, actually – hey, is that a Food Magic?"

"3000," said Barbara. "I'll leave you boys to it. But Jim? Tonight? Celebration."

She went upstairs. Toby went on edge again.

"Seriously, we've got a DEFCON 1 situation in Trollmarket."

"What? How do you know?" Was this really Toby, or Otto trying to trick Jim into bringing him to Trollmarket? He could've just ordered Jim to bring him there and not risked potential witnesses of two Tobys.

"I – I just do! Come on!" He tried to physically pull Jim to the door. Jim went with him.

The Changeling was ninety-five-percent certain he was being led into some kind of trap, but if there really was an emergency, the Trollhunter couldn't just ignore it.

No, please, by Fair Morgana, no.

It was one of Jim's worst nightmares come to life – General AAARRRGGHH on a rampage. His eyes hadn't changed colour and his carvings weren't glowing, like in the stories, but his roars were powerful enough to shake the cavern. The only good surprise was that no one seemed to have been killed yet.

"It's too late, Master Jim! AAARRRGGHH has lost his mind! Save yourself!"

AAARRRGGHH almost grabbed him. If it had been a few weeks ago, Jim would not have dodged in time. His new training regimen was really paying off.

"Toby, run. Get to the surface and stay in the sunlight!"

I did not risk Bular's temper just to see you eaten by AAARRRGGHH instead.

Jim ran around the attacking troll and jumped onto his back.

I'm gonna die. I'm gonna die.

AAARRRGGHH twisted and reached. Fingers bigger around than Jim's legs barely missed him.

Please don't do that tuck-and-roll thing Draal can do.

Jim climbed AAARRRGGHH's fur and – please let this work, I don't wanna die – caught his scruff, and grabbed, and pulled.

Like cats, trolls had loose skin behind their necks and between their shoulder blades. Jim had seen adults around Trollmarket scruffing their whelps and depositing them on their parents' shoulders. He suspected the whelps held onto their parents' scruffs while being carried about.

His own experience with scruffing was as a dirty fighting trick, since the troll scruffed instinctively relaxed – if only for a second before trying to tear their opponent's hand off. He had no idea if it would work the same on AAARRRGGHH as it did on Changelings, but if Jim could snap AAARRRGGHH out of this without anyone actually dying –

AAARRRGGHH collapsed.

"Wha-what?" Tobias, who had not run, gasped. "What did you do to him? Was that a pressure point thing?"

"AAARRRGGHH!" Blinky recklessly ran up to him and gently patted his massive grey face. "AAARRRGGHH, are you alright?"

"Didn't expect that," AAARRRGGHH rumbled. Jim's relief – AAARRRGGHH was coherent, at least aware enough to speak again – was almost enough to deactivate his armour, before he felt it start to fade away and his burst of panic at being unarmoured in Trollmarket forced it to solidify.

Jim moved to a spot on AAARRRGGHH's shoulder where he could see Blinky more easily, but still quickly scruff AAARRRGGHH again if he had to. Blinky was on his knees, all four hands in the green ruff that framed AAARRRGGHH's face. Their noses were pressed together. They were murmuring back and forth in trollish. AAARRRGGHH bent his head further forward. Blinky matched the gesture. They gently knocked horns.

The contrast in AAARRRGGHH's body language now compared to the attack earlier was so extreme as to be surreal.

Jim finally noticed the crowd. They hadn't really registered in his mind earlier beyond 'screaming trolls', but this was an unusual number of them to see in the Forge. Probably. Jim wasn't usually in Trollmarket this time of day. Mary and Darci and Claire were there, too.

"Are we still throwing the party?" asked Bagdwella.

"… What party?"

"Ah." Blinky looked up at Jim. "Well – you see …"

Claire and Darci pulled ropes, unfurling a banner and unleashing a cloud of balloons and confetti.

"Tobias informed us of your human custom, the 'surprise birthing day party'. Are you not … surprised?"

"… That's … definitely … one word for it." Along with 'frightened', 'betrayed', and 'angry'. "You all … made me think … I might have to kill AAARRRGGHH … to stop him killing anyone else … possibly me … as a party prank? Yes. I am very. Surprised."

And now he was crying. Wonderful. It's a chemical release valve, let it out, if you're crying it's because you need to …

"Jim." Toby.

AAARRRGGHH got back to his feet and picked up Toby – the sight of the fleshbag being lifted towards the ex-Gumm-Gumm's mouth brought Daylight to Jim's hand before he could stop it – no, it's okay, don't stab AAARRRGGHH in the neck, DO NOT STAB AAARRRGGHH IN THE NECK – and put him on his shoulders beside Jim. Jim was still mad at Toby, but Toby was soft and warm and sympathetic and the best guy to cling to and cry on.

"I hate you so much right now," Jim snarled into Toby's shoulder.

"I – we – must apologize, Master Jim," said Blinky. "You have devoted much time and effort into learning troll customs and we thought you might appreciate a chance to indulge in a human one. It did not occur to any of us that we might cause you distress."

"You were awesome-sauce, though," said Toby, patting his back. "I had no idea you were that fast, and the way you jumped AAARRRGGHH like that – I mean, I'm sorry we scared you but I wish you could've seen it. You took the big guy down."

"I got it on camera," said Mary, waving her phone. "Don't worry, I stopped filming before the crying part."

The tears seemed to have stopped. Jim pulled his face off Toby's shirt and scrubbed his eyes. Claire stood on tiptoe to give him a tissue from her purse.

"What is the meaning of this?" Vendel bellowed. The elder entered the Hero's Forge and burst a balloon with the pointy head of his staff.

"Balloons … pop," observed AAARRRGGHH, taking one and biting it. It seemed to amuse him, because he took another and did the same thing.

"You will remove them post-haste. I don't want anything to interfere with the Trollhunter's training."

Blinky was once more impressed by the human Trollhunter's resilience. After the disastrous attempt at a surprise party left the boy clinging to his friend in tears, Blinky thought he might falter and stumble in his training, and would have let him skip it for that day if not for Vendel's orders. But perhaps the illusion of mortal terror spurred him on. Rule Number One, after all.

Master Jim was training alone in the Forge. Sparring sessions were on hold since Draal's departure from Trollmarket. Blinky could see the logic in setting up protections around the Trollhunter's home in Master Jim's absence, but it created some difficulty for the Trollhunter's trainer. They would need to determine a new sparring partner for Master Jim in the interim, and had not yet found one.

Blinky had been intending to ask AAARRRGGHH to consider the task. He'd fully expected the answer to be 'no', in accordance with AAARRRGGHH's longstanding oath of nonviolence, but Blinky had hoped that sparring matches could fall under the heading of 'not truly fighting', since neither truly intended the other harm.

But after what had transpired earlier, it would be cruel to make such a suggestion.

Blinky felt horrible for his part in frightening Master Jim so badly. He could only imagine how AAARRRGGHH felt about it.

On the other hand, there was some encouragement to be found in this mess. If swiftness, agility, and the first hint of ruthlessness were how Master Jim responded to imminent threats to life and limb, perhaps this meant the young Trollhunter actually stood a chance now of surviving his first encounter with Bular.

It was odd, Blinky reflected, that such an encounter had not yet occurred. Did the Son of Gunmar perhaps not know of the human who now wielded Daylight's mantle? Or … had Bular left Arcadia entirely after Kanjigar's death? There had been no sightings reported of late. Where was Bular, and what evil might he be plotting?

Master Jim lost his balance and fell from an elevating platform. He caught the edge and swung himself to land in a roll on the next level down – just in time for it to begin tilting, sending him scrambling for more stable ground.

"I messed up," said Toby softly. "I knew Jimbo hates his birthday. I really thought we could turn it around."

"Why would he hate his birthday?" Mary asked. "Getting overwhelmed by a party I could see, even without the scare, but hating his birthday?"

"Birthdays always remind him of the day his dad disappeared."

Disappeared? "Interesting," said Blinky. "I did not know that Jim's father was a magician."

"Not … 'magic' disappeared. More like, 'walked out because he's a deadbeat' disappeared." Blinky turned three eyes to focus properly on Tobias while still keeping three on the Trollhunter. "I had just moved into the house across the street, and Jim's dad got him this sweet bike kit for his fifth birthday, and then he just took off. Last I heard, he ran off with his girlfriend to become a ski bum in Vermont. Those bike pieces just sat there in the garage for months before Jim put them all in a wagon and carted them off somewhere. He never said where."

Blinky closed his lowest pair of eyes in solemnity and put a hand on young Tobias' shoulder. "What a horrible tragedy. Made even more horrible that I had no idea."

The rest of Jay-Jay's birthday was less perilous for Jim, or at least perilous in different ways. Once advanced training was over, Claire and Darci and Mary and Toby started their beginner training with weapons selected from the racks around the Forge. They'd brought bike helmets and shin and elbow pads, which weren't much protection but better than nothing, and definitely lighter and more flexible than Jim's armour.

Toby picked a hammer he could barely lift, let alone swing. Claire wanted to try all the varieties of spears. Darci went for a crossbow, which Jim encouraged – a ranged weapon meant the wielder was, ideally, far away from the actual danger. Mary picked a sword. Actually, to a troll it was a dagger, but for a human it was a sword.

Blinky corrected the humans' stances and grips, and then Darci started target practice while Toby tried to pick his Warhammer up. Mary and Claire had to leave – the school play had Saturday afternoon rehearsals.

"Hey," said Claire, "I'm sorry the party didn't work out. Happy birthday."

She kissed Jim on the cheek.

Jim stared awkwardly after her as she and Mary started to leave the Hero's Forge. He had to do something about this before it got out of hand.

"Claire, wait!" He ran after them. "Can I, uh, talk to you for a minute?"

She let him lead her to the side while Mary blatantly eavesdropped.

"Listen, um, I know it might not actually mean anything, but, you've kissed me twice now and it's kind of making me uncomfortable? Like, I don't know if you're actually flirting or not, and I get that you might not be," he added hastily, "but, I'm not interested in you, that way? So … little awkward."

Claire tensed, subtly, and blinked twice. "… Okay. I … won't kiss you again, then."

She and Mary left.

After about twenty minutes, Toby and Darci were ready to leave Trollmarket as well, and Toby dragged Jim over to the Vespa dealership. Jim finally got to test-drive one of the scooters … with the help of the testimonials Toby had been gathering about Jim's good character, and a bribe of six dollars cash in lieu of Barbara's parental signature.

"I brought cake!" Barbara sing-songed, closing the front door with her hip. She always bought one for Jim's birthday, rather than risk ruining the cake by making it herself or having Jim bake his own birthday cake. "The decorator said they'd draw a scooter on it, but the bakery was nearly closed when I got there to pick it up so I didn't have time to check."

Jim took the white cardboard box from her, set it on the table, opened it, and laughed.

It was a picture of a scooter, alright. A motorless, collapsible scooter, rather than a Vespa – a simple, nearly abstract arrangement of three lines and two circles.

"I guess this must have been easier to draw."

"Oh …" said Barbara. "Sorry, honey. I guess I should've been a lot more specific."

"It's fine, Mom. We've got a funny story now, right?" He got a knife and cut the small, round cake in half. "Which side do you want?"

"Jim!" she scolded teasingly. "At least let me put in a candle and sing first!"

There had been a candle on the pancakes, but Jim went along with the song-and-wish ritual. Then he cut one of the cake halves in half and served Barbara a quarter. They often ate dessert before dinner on birthdays, so Barbara had a chance at staying for cake before an emergency call could come in and she would have to leave again.

Previous Chapter (Toby, Darci, Mary and Claire explore Trollmarket, and Draal moves into Jim’s basement.)

Table of Contents

Next Chapter (Jim sets up another “keep humans I like alive” plot.)

I have a lot to say so I’m dividing this into sections. These notes will NOT contain spoilers for Season 3 except for confirming one character’s existence/name.

Shout Out for help with the title: This chapter and the previous one were originally a single chapter, but as scenes expanded and more moments demanded to be written, I decided splitting the Birthday Episode into its own chapter made sense. But I had a doozy of a time naming it!

Working titles were 'Growing Pains Part 2', 'Un-Birthday' (as an Alice In Wonderland reference, since it's not Jim's actual birthday, but easily confused for an Unbecoming reference), or just using the episode title 'Bittersweet Sixteen'. I ran the problem by eurydykakaput, who always has good chapter titles on their AO3 Trollhunter Strickler fanfic 'Changing light', and their fresh perspective brought us 'Bittersweet Un-Birthday'.

I've concluded Jim's birthday was on a Saturday. He apparently didn't have his alarm set on the morning of his birthday. He then went to Trollmarket and spent the morning training (after the prank/attempted party). After that, he met Toby in the alley by the Vespa shop, and then went on the test ride. He encountered Steve and got attacked by a Stalkling, after which he ran right back to Trollmarket to ask Blinky what was trying to kill him now.

Jim was at school later that day because the play had Saturday afternoon-evening rehearsal. He was still going to rehearsals when he could, since he was the Romeo understudy until Steve's accident; Claire's line, "I need you to come back. I'm willing to beg," referred to Jim rejoining the main cast of the production. Toby was there because he walked Jim to school while Jim explained about the Stalkling.

This makes more sense to me than believing everything seen in that episode before school managed to happen between 6 AM and 8:15 AM.

Correlated to the previous point, I think the Arcadia Oaks High School’s school day starts at 8:15 AM. 6 AM is when Jim's alarm clock goes off. 8 AM is the time Toby and Jim declared themselves already late for school when biking out of Jim's driveway in the first episode. The 8:15 theory assumes they live a 15 minute bike ride from school going along the streets and a 10 minute bike ride if they cut through the canals, which were stated to "save us five minutes" travel time and which are close enough to the school that Jim and Toby could hear the final bell from the canal bed.

On the other hand, in Gnome Your Enemy, Señor Uhl pronounces Jim late for class when Uhl's watch reads 7:30 … so it's not really clear when their school day is supposed to start. I'm going to go with 8:15. It still feels early to me. My high school didn't start until 9.

Jim's thought, by Fair Morgana, was a multi-layered reference, with one definition of 'fair' meaning 'pale' and Morgana le Fay confirmed in pre-S3 leaks to be The Pale Lady who created Changelings. The line was written before I heard any characters rant about the name being cursed.

A few people have asked how Changeling aging rates work in this story. It will come up in the narrative, but not for a while, and the birthday chapter seems like a good place to explain.

Baby trolls are – well, were – kidnapped and taken to the Darklands and put through a magical process that, among other things, halts their physical aging until they are bound to a Familiar. They still grow up mentally (magic overwrites neuroscience) while they wait for a Familiar to be assigned to them. Once tied to a Familiar and able to shapeshift, their human and troll forms both age at a human rate for twenty to twenty-five years, after which they go back to aging at troll rate.

One reason Not Enrique is unnerving to trolls when they first encounter him in canon is because he looks like a toddler but has the mobility and articulation of an adult, giving him an Uncanny Valley impression.

Despite being physically adolescent in both forms, Changeling Jim is equivalent to a human in his early-to-mid-twenties.

And, if anyone is wondering, Jim's fifth-birthday bike kit "got banished the Darklands," by which I mean he took the pieces to the Janus Order base and threw them through the Fetch.

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spacechip707 · 6 years

Note

48 or 62? :-o Congrats❤️

Thank you! Kinda mixed it a bit? I guess? I got a little carried away, but here’s some morning fluff xP I hope you like it!

48. Morning kiss

62. Lazy Morning Kisses Before They’ve Even Opened Their Eyes, Still Mumbling Half-Incoherently, Not Wanting To Wake Up

Saeyoung was beautiful, MC decided. Sunlight bathed the room in gentle light. It weaved through his bright red hair, though it didn’t dare disturb his slumber by touching his face.

MC wasn’t sure how long she’d been staring at her husband. Originally, she was intrigued by the small twitch of his nose. But her eyes soon wandered, trailing down his other features and drinking in every detail of the man beside her. Light freckles spattered across his bare shoulders like stars. White lines of old scars served as constellations as they wound their way to his pronounced collarbone.

Her fingers gravitated to his ginger locks curling at the nape of his neck. She twisted them around her pinky and smiled at how they bounced when released. Then, she brought her attention back to his face. He had once told her he wasn’t “half-bad” without glasses, but that was a severe understatement.

Saeyoung wasn’t handsome in the way Zen or Jumin was. He didn’t possess delicate features or a stunning complexion. Soft…was the only word MC could use to describe him. It was as if his the kindness inside of his soul sprouted to his head and blossomed onto his face.

She loved every bit of it. His eyes, naturally crinkled from his laughter and smiles. His ears, protruding from his head just a tiny bit. His nose, peppered with spots to match his shoulders. And his lips…she adored his lips.

Her admiration wasn’t only based off the many doting kisses with which he blessed her daily. Those lips were where his true self was reflected. They held his smile–both gentle and cheesy, and they were the gateway to the dorky laugh that made her heart clench so tightly inside in her chest.

They showed sadness sometimes too. On those nights where his past returned to him as a spectre in his dreams, those lips produced such heartbreaking sobs…

MC drew her index finger across them. They were a little coarse from the night’s sleep, but still familiar and warm. She inhaled sharply when closed together to place a kiss at the base of her thumb.

Saeyoung’s golden eyes peeked out from under his heavy lids. He blinked blearily, though those crinkles returning so early in the day.

“Hello,” he mumbled against her palm.

His smile was contagious, and MC found her mouth following suit. “Good morning, sleepy head,” she returned.

His lashes fluttered against his cheek as he visibly fought against sleep. “What time’s it?” he slurred out.

MC’s stomach flipped as the breathy question fanned across her face. His voice was hoarse, gravelly, and penetrating to her eardrum despite being barely above a whisper. When she didn’t answer, his eyes attempted to focus on the blaring red numbers of the alarm, but no doubt they were nothing but a blur to his terrible vision.

“Early,” she replied simply to put him out of his squinting misery. Her fingertips skimmed over the smooth skin on his arm, exploring the tense outlines of his muscles and tracing their every curve.

He hummed in response, his eyes once again hidden from sight as he succumbed to the laziness that had him in its throes before. “Is it time to get up yet?”

“I’m afraid so,” she said, keeping her voice low lest she steal the peace resting over his person. She withdrew her touch and tucked both hands underneath her head.

A groan of disgust rumbled from the back of his throat. The mattress creaked when he rolled onto his back and wriggled into the sheets in search of a new comfortable position. The back of his wrist rested over one eye, and his chest fell back into a steady rhythm. Tethered as they were, MC found her own breaths matching his.

In…out…in…out…until darkness once again blanketed her vision.

She sucked in a short gasp and forced her eyelids back open. Determined not to buckle under the lulling temptation to join her husband, she propped herself onto one elbow and jabbed his side. “Saeyoung, come on.”

The top of his lip twisted upwards, and he batted the air as if casting away her prodding. “ ‘m still sleepy.”

MC chuckled in response, scooting closer to settle between the crook of his arm sprawled across her side of the bed. She pressed a kiss to his shoulder, noting the pleasant temperature emanating from his skin to her lips. “We have things to do.”

His chest thrummed in an ambiguous grunt. She nudged her knee into his hip, increasing the pressure until a scowl disrupted his stoic features. His brows furrowed together and a whine slipped from his closed mouth.

Another poke to his side.

“MC!” he complained. He snatched his arm from under head, sending her plummeting into the cushions. An ornery huff was the last thing she heard before he turned his back to her. Cruelly, he ripped half of the blanket from her shoulders, letting the harsh morning air rake across her skin while he stayed bundled in the layer of cloth. The thief.

Eager to escape the cold, MC scurried further into the remnant of covers until her body was pressed flush against his. Her arms slid around his middle, and she took a moment to relish in the heat he provided.

Before she could settle into this tantalizingly cozy spot, her mind flayed her with all the errands waiting for them outside the haven that was their bed. Unable to resist the echoing list of responsibilities for long, MC made a resolution to escape the trap of silky sheets, downy blankets, and luxurious body heat.

Without disturbing her husband, she hoisted her torso to sit against the headrest. She was acutely aware of the contrast between the chilly draft attacking her exposed arms and the warmth enwrapping her legs beneath the covers.

Still, she swung her feet to the ground, shivering as the cold rug tickled her toes. Just as she leaned forward to stand, something grabbed the hem of her shorts. She turned to find Saeyoung latched onto her clothes with the fistful of cotton slipping through his sleepy fingers.

“Don’t go,” he whined.

“One of us has to get up,” she said, though her body involuntarily slinked against into the comforter. “Besides, you keep stealing the blankets, so there’s no point in trying to sleep.“

His hands patted blindly across the mattress until finding her clothing again–this time her shirt. His mouth parted in an inhaling breath, probably in preparation to finally open those eyes for good–or at least longer than three seconds.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it,” he drawled with childish huff. “Stay with me. Please?”

Saeyoung may have been beautiful when still under the effects of sleep, but he was an absolute nightmare when it came to waking up. Unfortunately for MC, he was a cute nightmare. His lips were pursed in a sulky pout, making his cheeks appear rounder…like a chipmunk. She shook the thought from her head, determined to fight against his charm.

It was a short battle. He yanked her shirt, finding enough strength in the last few seconds to successfully drag her deeper into the bed. His legs kicked under the sheets until they found her own and clamped them in a scissorhold. “Stay,” he said flatly.

MC hated how much effort it took to even try to move. Sluggish energy trickled through her veins, barely providing enough to squirm under his hold let alone free herself. She flopped her head back against the pillow, her consciousness already deteriorating under the promise of sleep.

“But there’s so much to do,” she moaned.

The tip of his nose nestled against the crook of her neck, and his chest reverberated against her arm as he grumbled. “Two more hours,” he said.

“You have work,” she pointed out. He only pulled her closer.

“One more hour,” he bargained, tilting his head upwards so his lips landed on the sensitive area between her ear and jaw. Her stomach fluttered when he planted a swift kiss.

She fidgeted in his hold until he allowed her to lay on her side, her back facing him. She soon found that a mistake as he rested his mouth against her back, dragging it back and forth across her bare skin, pausing only at the shudder he managed to elicit.

“We need to make breakfast,” she stammered, her face heating at how easily she melted into his hands. Still, she let her one foot hang outside the covers–a testament to her obstinacy to actually get up on time. For once.

“Breakfast never takes long,“ he murmured against the arch of her neck. He peppered soft kisses down her shoulder, each one slow and rolling off her with calculative tenderness. He loosened his hold on her legs only to push her flat on her back so his face hovered above her form.

Any mood he had tried to create to keep her in bed dissipated as soon as she caught a glimpse of his now ransacked appearance.

His hair which had been so neat against the pillow was thoroughly mussed—partially from her own doing. Strands jutted into the air at odd angles, and a few thinner curls stuck to his forehead framing it in an odd oval.

“What?” He mumbled, though his chest heaved a half-laugh.

“You look funny,” she said. A string of sleepy giggles fell from her mouth.

His nose wrinkled in displeasure, and the pink tip of his tongue peeked from his mouth along with his mocking whine. “Not all of us can look gorgeous as soon we wake up,” he returned.

MC glanced at the folded pair of striped glasses on the nightstand before shifting her gaze to the floor-length mirror in the corner of the room. Her hair was in worse disarray than his with a lump of knots forming at the base of her neck and several arching tufts poking up from her scalp.

“I’ll take your words lightly, considering you can’t really see me,” she pointed out.

Finally deciding to sit upright, he leaned back on his palms with more force than necessary. The springs of the mattress bounced her upwards and closer to him. His unfocused pupils flitted across her general form while a smile unfolded across his lips. “Well, you’re the prettiest blur of colors in the morning.”

She clicked her tongue, wondering how he could manage such a flirtatious comment only moments after his small tantrum.

Her hand drifting upwards to his cheek. “Hmm…not as beautiful as you—even with the bedhead.”

He flushed noticeably after her words. A stranded syllable floated from his mouth before he retracted from her touch. His eyes darted about the room as if his words had somehow scattered themselves on the wall. When he still couldn’t form a coherent sentence, he teetered to his side and buried his face into her stomach.

MC grunted under the unexpected weight, though she chuckled when he let out a moan. “You can’t say things like that this early,” he said into her shirt.”My poor heart.”

She squirmed as his breath seeped into the cloth and spread across the sensitive area. He seemed to notice and surfaced his head to face her, the tips of his ears still a brilliant scarlet.

“I’m not sorry,” she said, earning another glare from the redhead. She softened as the remnants of slumber trickled through her veins, and a calm washed over the barely roused couple. “I’m being serious though. I feel lucky waking up next to you.”

“I do too,” he said with a thoughtful hum. His hand rested on her forearm for a brief moment before his calloused fingers trailed down her skin. His thumb traced the outline of her wedding band, and a hushed breath tickled her stomach again. “But, sometimes it scares me.”

MC snorted. “Oh? Am I scary in the morning? I thought I was pretty.”

“Not what I meant,” he chuckled. His levity was short-lived, and his brows once again furrowed in that pensive, brooding frown. “I’m just so happy, that it feels too good to be true. It’s like a dream half of the time, and sometimes I wonder if it isn’t. I’m scared that I’ll just wake up one day, and it’ll all be gone. You’ll be gone… And I’ll go back to those days where there was no point in waking up at all.”

MC swallowed hard against her rising emotions. She removed her hand from his and rested it on his cheek.

“Saeyoung,” she said, remaining silent until he was forced to look at her. “This is real. We’re married, living in the same house, loving each other and getting annoyed with each other over stupid things. And the only time you need to be scared of waking up is if you steal the covers from me.”

He inclined his head downward, hiding a guilty smile in the fabric of her shirt. She let out a chuckle of her own before she went on.

“I’m not going away anytime soon,” she said, lowering her voice as if she was speaking a reverent oath. Perhaps she was. “Promise.”

The pad of her thumb brushed across his skin, which had once again risen in temperature. He lifted his face though he didn’t meet her gaze, and the edge of his mouth twitched upwards. “Thank you,” he murmured. “For always reassuring me.”

She nodded and ruffled his hair to worsen its already dishevelled condition. He scrunched his nose, but let her continue until she was satisfied with her destruction. “I’ll tell you every time you wake up if you need me to.”

Saeyoung raised a brow. He adjusted his lower half horizontally to better accommodate his new position with MC as his pillow. His arm snaked around her middle as he nuzzled his cheek deeper into her tummy. “Well, in that case, I’ll need another reassurance in an hour or so.”

“Saeyoung, no!” She protested, propping herself onto her elbows to displace him from his position. “Come on, we really—“

Any further complaint died on her tongue when she stared directly into his golden irises. He crawled over to her side again, caging her between his arms so his warmth once again transferred to her body. “Can’t we postpone the morning a little longer? Please?”

MC wanted to refuse, reminded of all the impending errands awaiting them outside the sanctuary of their bedroom. But alas, the lips she adored so much were drenched in honey as they met with her own, and she found her will deteriorating under one last kiss.

“One more hour can’t hurt,” she reluctantly agreed.

Happily, he returned to her side, his eyes wrinkling in unspoken thanks before fluttering shut. Contentment unravelled across his face, and MC couldn’t find any remorse within herself. She loved seeing that beautiful face when she woke, and the prospect of experiencing it a second time in one morning was worth any consequence their idleness would bring.

#Anonymous #mystic messenger #saeyoung choi #saeyoung x reader #saeyoung x mc #mystic messenger imagines #mystic messenger fanfic #mystic messenger fanfiction #mystic messenger imagine #mystic messenger one-shot

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littlefanfics · 6 years

Text

Things You’d Know if You Could Spare a Moment to Talk to Me

a/n: just a rusty draft. I had inspiration!

Summary: , I'd like to create a private list to Jungkook (never to be shared with Jungkook unless I die): The list of Things You'd Know if You Could Spare a Moment to Talk to Me.

\There's so much to me that is obvious with just a conversation. However my roommate and ex-boyfriend's close friend simply ignored me as he went about his daily life. He had gotten himself a girlfriend a week before I'd moved in, even though they'd long parted, my roommate kept out of sight for the most part, either locked up in his room or out elsewhere.

It was a shame, though I was sure he knew a limited amount of information. Number one, I dated his close friend, Park Jimin, however we both quickly found that he was gay. I wasn't really all that hurt, and being a strong supporter and aly of the LGBTQ community, I'd been happy that he'd found himself because now he seemed so much happier and stronger. In fact, we became extremely close friends, though I knew for a fact our friendship wasn't really a highlight or worth mentioning in their tight-knit friend group. It was only that I needed a place to stay and Jimin was moving out that I'd ended up living with Jungkook and even knowing of his existence.

Number two, while I fooled some, I was foreigner. I may be partially Asian, but I was not of direct Korean descent. I at most had 1% of Korean blood. I don't think that'd particularly count, but in any case here I was in Korea.

And the last would be my name. For obvious reasons, since we were rooming together. We had a system that basically involved Jungkook leaving notes on the kitchen table discussing the bills and whatever had to be done. Usually he did his fair share of whatever and left a note telling me to do the rest.

However, if he a spared a moment to ask me how I was doing, instead of walking out the apartment door without a sign of acknowledgement...

So, without further ado, I'd like to create a private list to Jungkook (never to be shared with Jungkook unless I die): The list of Things You'd Know if You Could Spare a Moment to Talk to Me.

1. My occupation.

I suppose you've probably never been into my room. Today I heard you out in the kitchen, putting away the dishes when you wondered aloud why we had three more knives than you remembered. Had you stepped foot into my room for a second, you'd question whether you've really walked into a college student's room or an assassins.

Ah dear Jungkook, both would be the correct answer. To be fairly honest, I had to pay the bills somehow, and it's not like what I was doing was terribly legal, but I was working under the government. I'm just working in the darker side of the government. Luckily I'm just a small fry, with no need to conceal my identity nor hide what I do. I know it's a little creepy and I don't openly share this information with just anyone, but let's be real. You're my roommate. It's surprising you don't know yet.

Where do you think I get the money to pay the bills? I've already stressed that I'm quite broke, and not receiving any funding from my parents multiple times in your brief presence and on one of the notes in return when OVER NOTE you asked if I could cover a bit of your share of bills. Something about your payment being late. It's strange to have so many serious conversation through sticky notes as if we're middle schooners-except it's all business and no play.

2. My age.

I know perfectly well that Saturday nights are dedicated to your close tight-knit group of friends. My squad used to have that too, but I've moved here, and one girl ended up in France and honestly we're all spread out now rather than close together. Only on Holidays do we gather together now. So I understand how precious your time together is. That's why, despite knowing Hoseok and Jimin incredibly (maybe a little too much so) well, I went straight to my room after returning home from work that night.

However, we're both aware of how thin the walls are. I know we both know it. We've both brought home one-night stands, and I'm perfectly aware that you know. If you slamming the door as you left the apartment one night is any indicator.

So when the huge exclamation "Why does your roommate have blood all over their shirt Jungkook?" followed by a silence I assumed to be your silent response was, I had a confirmation of the first item on the list. I also hear Jimin's perky tone "Do you even know y/n's name?? Or age?" Which of course means I heard your response. I'll admit I'm a little shocked by this one. "Well of course! You just said Y/n's name in that sentence! Which I knew before you added it to the sentence thank you very much."

There was a long silence. I'm sure of it, probably filled with much nonverbal communication, looks of shock being traded among the group maybe, as JImin repeated his earlier question. "Do you know how old y/n is?"

In the tiniest voice I've heard you use (not that I've heard much of your voice), "Twenty... Something?" and you sounded sheepish. The rest of the group exploded into loud exclamations. But they were silenced by my presence as I passed by heading towards the bathroom, having already changed into a fresh set of clothes, impatient to shower and get ride of the sweat riding down my brow.

As I closed the bathroom, the conversation resumed, I heard you guys drop the subject, Jimin still huffing in slight disbelief. You never asked me afterwards. Nothing about the blood nor my age. I asked Jimin later on, who'd shook his head. He said that you were simply unsociable and there was nothing he could do about it. If that's the case, I'd rather like to know where you disappeared every Friday night in order to bring home someone new.

3. My nationality.

I bit back whatever words I said about being sure you knew I was a foreigner. I was home, you were working and I wanted to hook the tv up to my computer for a second screen. And so I did.

I was deep into my Korean geography assignment when you came in. I couldn't quite hear you. You're always so silent on entering the house, but I also had my earbuds in, head facing the TV and thus facing away from you. I was frustrated because it was taking so long, due to me being unfamiliar with the terrain, I was repeated going to maps and searching up where these areas were.

To be honest, I don't even remember what town I was searching for, when I screamed out with frustration "WHERE THE HELL IS [The city in question]" when you snapped, and rather comfortably for someone whose barely held a conversation with me for more than five minutes, "Right outside of Busan you idiot! Are you some foreigner?" And with the shake of a head, disappearing into your room where you resided for the rest of the night... Long gone when I woke up the next morning.

While I'm surprised that you didn't know, to be honest I'm still hurt by that reaction. I don't take kindly to this sort of criticism I suppose. I didn't think you'd feel so... Apathetic towards me. So I'll admit. I texted Jimin, who said he'd "set you straight" whatever that meant. I suppose that means you'll know soon. But you won't know because you talked to me, but rather a mutual friend is going to yell at you.

4. I dislike spicy food. In fact. I can't even eat it at all.

I suppose this one should be an obvious one, considering whenever it's my turn to get the groceries, it's all "bland" food (as one of my Korean friends that you do not know told me). However, you left out spicy food on the table, all wrapped up, with a note. "Sorry, I didn't know you weren't from here. I couldn't tell, which is probably a good thing. Means your Korean is really good. Fighting!"

I opened it up, actually slightly excited, only to find that it was an excruciating kind of spice. I can't have spice at all, Jeon Jungkook. It gives me stomach problems. Too much spice and I'll have an ulcer!

There's a saying, it's the thought that counts, and so I threw it out thinking "thanks" because I felt a little bad. It was a waste a food. Unsure how to respond, I didn't bother leaving a note at all. It's probably not beneficial to our barely existent relationship, but I don't like lying nor do I want to make you upset. I'm not saying that I would be rude about telling you that I didn't eat the food, but that I would feel bad for saying such things.

5. When I binge on ice cream, it's not because of my period. I'm just having a hard time.

I'll admit I'm a little annoyed about this one. Because I was having a netflix binge session with ice cream does not mean that I'm on my period. In fact, cold things induce cramps (for me), and painkillers do not help that pain. So if I were to get my period and had A MOOD, I would probably be munching on cookies or brownies, and definitely have at least one chocolate bar. But I've long got over those monthly binging sessions because life doesn't wait for you, and I just decided to be done with letting mother nature kick me down like that. Instead I limp through hallways whenever I forget the painkillers, and pinch myself any time I get too emotional.

So yeah, it was probably the best call to room for your life if I was sitting there ice cream, because that means I'm upset. And I was. I know that I was upset for a fact. I never did like the part of my job that requires... Torture. I'm definitely not proud of it. Usually I'm given a choice if I want to do it. To be honest, I'm probably the best at getting information out of people before I actually put anything to their skin. However I knew some of the actual torturers at the company and I don't like leaving the people I capture to them. I don't mind killing. It's easy and mindless, and I go back to pretending that I know I'm not hurting people. Usually I'm actually not. I'm not allowed to go into the reasons and the people I kill, but it's much more justified then you'd imagine.

However this guy wouldn't give in. I'd thought I could make him before having to do anything. In the end I ended up crying. He got the satisfaction of making me cry, and the professionals had to finish off the job. I came back home, upset and ready to kill myself.

Honestly I have no right to be this upset, but every time I killed or tortured, it spent a huge weight on me. I was sick of myself. I get sick of everything and everyone around me. "Don't you see I'm a monster?" I'll think.

I was rather satisfied when you saw me, eyes widening, before you rushed off to your room, barely taking off anything or settling down in any way at all. It confirmed that I was the monster that I feel I am.

Yet I heard you speaking into the phone "Yes I'll come over. My roommates got to be on her period. It's vaguely frightening and I can't believe I haven't noticed this before."

That was a little rude, and I sunk back into the couches, pulling the blanket tighter around my shoulders. The mood of my self-pitying took into a different route. It wasn't what I wanted. I was mad at you, but grateful. I didn't want to spend the rest of the night sulking over how I'm a terrible human, but it's not like I wanted to go on a feminist sort of rage (feeling cheated in some odd way). If I were going to be upset I wanted to properly mourn the poor guy I'd unsuccessfully tortured.

6. Your extremely loud arguments bother me quite a bit.

Yes I'm aware that you have a girlfriend. You've had multiple girlfriends. I'm quite aware of more details about your life than I've ever wanted.

While I had to admit it's quite nice to have someone who will clean up after themselves, and will clean up the house (more often than I do). Plus, when you have no one over, it's pretty quiet which is nice. I've had obnoxious roommates, so this is plenty refreshing.

It's the occasional moments that you bring over your girlfriend(s) that bother me. First girlfriend I actually ended up getting acquainted with. She was a sweetheart, maybe a bit loud, but not obnoxiously so. She seemed level headed, so regardless when you started bringing over girls around I was disappointed. She's actually a friend of mine now, which is pretty cool. She's very level headed, logical, she didn't think with her emotions. She considered them a lot sure, but her decision making skills seemed very good. I was surprised to find that you broke up with her and not the other way around, though she's not bitter at all. In fact, she said she was a bit blinded, unable to see it wouldn't work out and was glad that you had broken things off before she grew attached. That also surprised me, but I didn't know a thing about you. I still don't.

I hated your second girlfriend. She was always obnoxiously loud, and glared as well. You guys would fight, and I've heard her accuse you of cheating on her with me of all people. After probably three hours of screaming at each other you guys had obnoxiously loud makeup sex. Notice how I'm using obnoxiously a lot? That's because it was. It was obnoxious. It was unpalatable, distasteful, insufferable, loathsome, foul, intolerable... Except I tolerated her.

By the way, she broke the crystal necklace my mother gave me, and yes. I'm forcing her to pay off the damage. It was not only expensive, but had something of sentimental value to me. That's probably why she slapped you. Sorry about that.

Ahh... This is probably your fifth girlfriend that you've just broken up. You've had six since I've known you, and only one of them have broken up with you. Let me tell you. Girlfriend (or ex-girlfriend) number six was by far the worst. Not because she broke anything, but how insulting she was.

First of all, she's the second girl to accuse you of cheating on her with ME. I barely even know you, so it's ridiculous, and while I'm sure it's merely because we live together it's still vexing to be despised by all these petty women. And treated accordingly.

She broke the TV when you guys broke up. And I know, I won't have to take care of the damage but in the meantime, I'm watching netflix on my laptop and it's just not the same.

Also your makeup sex was the most annoying. Mostly because of her excessive moaning. If she just had crazy kinks I'd be fine. But she'd still mention me while you were probably balls deep in her, and I have a knack for hearing my name. Not to mention HOW LONG IT WAS. I'd be sexiled (sort of. The noise forces me to leave) and by lord. I'll leave, probably do some shopping, and you'd still be at it.

Jeon Jungkook... I'm sorry to have known you so well in this way. It's not like I wanted to overhear such things, but I did.

7. My parents died years back. Oh yeah. And I have brothers.

That's why I have no funding from my parents. Inheritance is all I have, and it's not much. I wasn't the only child. I have two older brothers. Probably why I'm so capable of fighting. While Willy is now a drag queen, and Tommy's an official nerd, they were both the stereotypical boys at one point, and I played with them and their friends which is what helped make me so tough. As they grew up, Tommy began developing as a nerd, and Willy started wearing heels. I wasn't going to let anyone drag (ha! Pun!) them down. So I fought those bullies. It's not like there was a lot, but I was good at fighting.

We had a two minute (recording breaking... Probably. I don't count) conversation about the bills again.

"Sorry could you cover half of my rent? My paycheck is late again." You were stark naked, the towel covering your lower half, leaving your chest naked in all it's fine glory as I stood in my black clothes, ready to go to work, not quite at the door, but somewhere in the vicinity. I narrowed my eyes, because this wasn't the first time, though I knew you would pay me back.

I had recently paid for next semester. I couldn't magically make your half appear. "Sorry I can't." I frowned, pulling my jacket over me, before taking my boots off the rack, carefully unlacing them. I looked up.

"Can't you just like... I don't know. Ask your parents or something? You know I'll give it back." You huffed.

"I can't." I replied sharply, because while I'm not shy about the fact, it's still a sensitive subject, especially since we've gone over this in a note somewhere. I'm positive we have. I finished lacing up my shoes, tying it tightly with anger. As I opened the door, I noticed you were gone.

8. Sorry about your fifth girlfriend.

This might make things weird but I slept with your fifth girlfriend. Her hair was short and choppy, rather small and cute, but she dressed tough. Despite this she still looked adorable, and I have a weakness for cute girls. I'm reluctant to identify as queer, but I was most definitely queer for her.

I know for a fact you don't know this. But she approached me, and rather ungracefully asked if I'd be interested in dating her after you guys broke up. It escalated, and never really became a relationship, though I've had plenty of conversation with her before. I'm sure that if I really wanted to, we could've made a relationship out of what friendship we'd acquired. Somewhere in between making coffee in the morning, we'd grown close. I really liked her. I guess it's a bit of a shame that we only hooked up several times. At the same time, being in a relationship with her while we're still rooming would have created more tension. Probably. And made things really awkward. If we ever get to talking about something other than basic necessities, I'll tell you. I promised myself. I feel bad about it, but that hasn't happened yet. On the bright side (for you), we still can't look at each other after how things ended.

(To Be Continued... (: Probably)

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