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seeingivy · 8 months

Text

ribbons release

actor eren x f!reader

**part of my method acting series

content: happiness for once. until it is not. ronnie's love for foreshadowing strikes again.

an: not a fan of this chapter, but we digress. read it and do not kill me if you don't like it.

song: not explicitly mentioned, but this chapter reminds me of about you by the 1975. ratty healy, I hate you but you ate on this one thing.

previous part linked here

“I ju-just sent my loc-location, Eren.”

“I got it, Y/N. I just need you to hold on for ten more minutes, okay? Can you do that for me?”

“Y-yes.”

Seattle is famous for rain. You understand that all too well now. After what you’ve counted as twenty-seven minutes - from when you went to take the trash out to the mailpost you’re hiding behind now - you’re all but soaked. Drenched.

Your phone is blowing up with texts, the rain is only getting harder, and the mini black dress and ribbon in your hair do no favors to keep you warm. You slide out of your call with Eren and quickly scan through the messages, buzzing so loud they’re blocking Eren’s voice.

reiner: so, so proud of you always!!! stop being a big famous pop star and go back to being the little twerp who needs my help killing spiders on set :/

levi: I love you too, kid. And on a real listen, we really do love the album.

armin: ann and i are smelling a triple threat on the horizon. love you to the moon and saturn <3

connie: i was accidentally pooping while i listened to dorothea for the first time and i think the combination of those two things at once gave me like a really visceral reaction. im not ok. u are amazing.

mikasa: u are givg me aneurysm. pls don’t forgor to call me the scnd ur okay.

erwin: Call me ASAP.

erwin: Not urgent. Just feeling emotional about my little Canadian reaching hearts all over the world.

king of bitches (maybe: ryomen sukuna): Fluff shit indeed. Blow me a kiss when you beat James for Album of the Year.

danny: where is the album release post? it’s almost been half an hour.

You have bigger problems at the moment. Like the frozen piece of fabric you’re wearing. You should have named the album sweaters or scarves or something. Then at least you’d be warm. And blend in with the paparazzi.

Fuck.

“W-wait, Eren. Y-you ca-n’t b-be the one to get me.” you murmur, shivering through your teeth.

“Do you want to stay with someone else? I know nice people here. My neighbor is in her late forties and has like two middle school aged girls that are really nice. They’d take care of you, I promise you can trust them and-” he rambles.

“N-no. I want to st-stay with you. But pa-papara-zzi. S-send ss-omeone e-else.”

“Paparazzi? Why are-?”

“Er-eren.”

“Would it be that bad if it was me? Like it has to be someone else, Y/N?”

“Y-yes.”

“I have someone in mind. She’s leaving right now, okay?”

Eren’s sound is muffled over the line now, which has you digging your phone into your ear to catch the ends of what he’s saying.

Blast the heater….butt warmer on before she’s in the car….bring it up and I will kick your freeloading….

“Y/N?”

“H-here.”

“Good. I’m sending her. Don't get upset, this is the best I could do, okay? I-I promise she’s actually nice. You can trust her and-and I’d never send someone who would do something bad.”

“O-okay. I t-trust you. J-just get me ou-out of th-this, please.” you whimper, praying to god the rustling behind you is a rabbit and not the group of them finding you.

“I’m trying sweetheart, okay? She’s speeding. She’s on Main and Third, three lights and she’s there.”

That’s when you see it. The flash of the camera. And hear five consecutive clicks right after. You look around the periphery, before you see two of them, two tall guys speed walking closer to where you’re hiding.

So you do the only thing you can. Stand up and run instead.

You scramble up off the pavement, hiking your dress down, and keep running down the block. Climb up the gates, knock over trash cans to block the way, anything to stop them. And when you look back, after who knows how long, you realize they’re gone.

And sit flat on the messy pavement, finally lifting the phone back up. Only to realize Eren’s no longer on the line because your phone is dead. You drop it straight into your lap and dig your hands into your head, covering your ears to stop the pounding sound of the rain from getting any louder.

God. Just breathe. Whoever is coming to get you is on the way. They’ll come get you and then you’ll be out of this mess.

You hear three resounding clicks and a flash of a light to look up at two different paps, two girls this time, getting a straight on picture of you. And all you can do is put your head down in your lap and cry.

They already got the picture. There’s no point in trying to run out of it anymore.

“Y/N.”

“Pl-please. I’m b-begging you. You already got your picture and can ss-spin it into whatever you want. I-I’m still a person, please. Just let me go.” you respond, the tears blinding your sight of vision.

You feel a towel being wrapped around your shoulders and soft hands lifting you up by your arms. And then all of a sudden you’re in a warm car, being sped out of the neighborhood past the groups of paparazzi in between the houses, and not directly across from them having your picture taken.

You’re in a car. You’re okay. You’re leaving. You’re okay.

You lean back and breathe hard, phantom sobs still racking out of your chest, trying to register that you’re almost there. Safe behind closed, triple locked doors.

“D-did you tell Eren?”

“Yes. He’s not far, we’ll be there soon, okay?”

“Okay. T-thank you. I’m Y/N.”

“Lana.”

You turn your head to actually take in the driver this time, to be met with the Lana you feared. Ricky’s ex-girlfriend, Lana. She has short brown hair - entirely different from her long, beachy waves from the Girlfriend incident - a pointed nose and a very clenched jaw.

“Th-there are more blankets on the floor. I pumped the heater pretty hard, but I’ll turn all the fans your way. And anything you could possibly need is being rushed to the house for you, so just don’t worry, okay?”

“I appreciate it. Thank you for coming to get me. I-I”

“Please don’t thank me. I just-”

She takes a harsh intake of breath and turns to give you a look, her mouth upturned.

“He locked you out, didn’t he?” she whispers.

“Yeah.” you respond.

“What did you do?”

“I told him I didn’t like him back.”

She turns her head towards you, a look of confusion on her face.

“It was a PR thing.”

She snorts.

“Your managers must hate you.”

“I’m starting to think they just might.”

“Well. Don’t feel bad. Not for a fucking second. Just because he likes you, doesn’t mean he’s entitled to you reciprocating back. You like who you like. And if I were you, I wouldn’t stop liking a guy like Eren for a skeeze like Ricky either.”

You lean against the glass, hot air blowing in your face, as you take in her expression - so enraged, so exasperated, so furious that it gives you a chill. But when she looks over and gives you a halfhearted smile, you see the pained expression there too.

That’s when you pinpoint it. Lana reminds you of Historia.

“I’m sorry.” you respond.

“For?”

“You knew he locked me out. He must have done it to you too, no?” you whisper, the tension in the air delicate.

She swallows hard and clenches her knuckles on the steering wheel, eyes laser focused on the red light shining on her face. And beyond the original striking features - her sharp jaw and nose - you see the softness too. The dimples, the wrinkles near her eyes, the light brown freckles.

“I wanted to take time off from acting. It-I did a role that was really traumatic and I just needed a break. And he was just about to go on tour and he wanted me to come to support. Like a little cheerleader.”

“So he locked you out?”

“For two days. He-he’s just. A lot of the fame stuff got to him when he was really little. And now he’s got this convoluted sense of self-image and it just- I don’t know. He’s got problems.” she responds.

“I’m sorry. Really, that’s-”

You stop talking, words failing you. And maybe it’s the way your head was frozen ten minutes ago and it’s being melted now, or that the picture they took is going to leak soon, or that there is no good thing to say to something shitty like this. It only took him three months to turn on you, which you’re guessing is generous now. She must have infinite patience for putting up with it for an entire year.

“In a weird way, I’m glad it’s me and not Eren. You- this does something for me. Making sure you’re not out there for two days, it-it helps me.” she whispers, looking over to give you a smile.

“I really appreciate you, Lana. Thank you. And I-I’m not mad at you for the Girlfriend thing. You had every right to do that.”

“Y/N. I have every right to drag Ricky James’ name through the mud. But not yours. And I- shit. Please don’t tell Eren we talked about this. He’s going to kill me.”

“Why?”

“He told me that if I brought it up, he’d kick me out of his house. I kind of stay there because I-I hate living in our townhouse on set because of how toxic it is and he was nice enough to offer. And he made it very clear that I have to pick you and make sure you’re okay, not make you uncomfortable or anything. We’re here to take care of you and-”

“I brought it up. I’ll deal with him if he gives you a hard time. I used to be really good at that type of thing.”

“I know for a fact that you could tell him to twirl in the air like a show pony and he’d do it.”

“I’ll test the theory and let you know.”

She laughs, giving you a smile which you warmly return. Your phone buzzes in your lap, finally revived, and you send a quick message to Mikasa and Jean before shutting it off.

“I-I didn’t know that it was going to go that far. I knew the song and that we were just going to sing it. Let people speculate it was about you. I-I didn’t know they’d have a girl who looked like you OR bring Eren up on stage. And Eren didn’t know anything about the song or the performance at all - they, they set him up.”

“Why would they do that? I mean, they got horrible backlash in the entire thing.”

“They thought people would like it. And they severely underestimated how much people love you. And they did it because, Eren- he. He doesn’t follow rules and-”

“Follow rules?”

“I’m saying too much. He-he’s going to get mad. Ju-just rest, okay? You’re okay now, we’re two minutes from the neighborhood..”

You give her a questioning look, which she returns with a dismissive shake. Stubborn - she’s Historia alright. You lean back in the chair and reach for the music nob, twisting it on. Only to be met with the Teletubbies Theme blasting through the car and a very flustered Lana turning the knob off.

“Fuck.”

“Teletubbies?”

“I-I can explain.”

“Please. I’d love to hear it.”

She drums her fingers on the steering wheel as the silence hangs in the air.

“Okay. Maybe I can’t explain.”

“No need. I appreciate versatile music taste in prospective friends. Especially classics like this.” you respond, cranking the music back on.

“Friends?”

“Don’t be silly. Not exaggerating, but I think you quite literally saved my life a few minutes ago. You’re like the La-La to my Dipsy.”

“Lame. You’re more of a Tinky-Winky. And anytime. We girls stick together, right?” she responds, reaching for your hand and giving it a squeeze. Like Eren.

Did she learn the hand squeezes from Eren? Is he squeezing her hands? They live together so …are they dating?

“We’re here.”

You nod, appreciative of Lana more than maybe any person on god's green Earth, as she pulls into the driveway and helps you out of the car. It’s only after sitting that you’re realizing your legs are so bone dead tired that you’re barely moving on your own.

You move past the hood of the car as Eren walks into the garage, immediately beelining towards you. His hair is long again - it’s always changing every time you see him - and he’s all wound up with tensions sitting in his shoulders. His hands are warm and cupping your face, yanking the cold towel off and replacing it with a warm one.

“Hey. You-you nicked your face, Y/N. And you’re freezing, you-” he whispers, brushing his fingers across the skin near your eye that stings on touch.

Lana holds the door open as he leads you in, arms aggressively moving up and down your shoulders and his face all pinched up in concern.

“You’re good to go? I put your stuff out by the door.” Eren says, gesturing to Lana.

“Is she leaving?” you ask, looking up at Eren.

“Yeah. Don’t worry, it’ll be just us. And I’m sure Mika and Jean will drop everything to fly out for you tomorrow, I can tell them if you need me to and-”

“Well, don’t make her leave. She shouldn’t stay on that stupid set just because of me.” you respond.

Eren looks over and glares at Lana, who is now wide eyed and giving Eren a sheepish smile. Fuck. He asked her not to talk about that.

“Lana.” he says, in a warning tone.

“Eren. Chill out. I didn’t even-”

“You’re so full of yourself, you know that? You- she got drenched and the rain and you were talking about set?”

“It’s not like that! It just came up and-”

“Oh, for sure. You just happened upon it like you were a villager walking in a town square. Ooh Y/N. You just got drenched in the rain and chased by paparazzi, but more importantly, the girls I work with are super bitchy.” he responds, mimicking her voice.

“You-it wasn’t like that! You’re so aggravat-”

“Eren. Leave her alone.” you ask, looking up at him. And you’re sure you must look horrible because he immediately stops when he looks at your face again and signals for her to leave, which she’s receptive to.

“Okay. Lana, text me when you’re there. And check if you were followed on your way out.” Eren says.

Lana stops and holds both of your arms at your biceps, hands soft on your skin.

“Do call me if you need anything, okay? Especially Ricky related. Whatever you do, I’ll back you up, Tinky-Winky. ”

“Thank you, La-La. I’ll take you up on that.” you respond, giving her a warm smile.

“Oh god. No. No, you don’t get to be friends now. Fuck no, Lana. Please stick to the geriatric grandmas you play Scrabble with.”

“You’re just mad they beat you at mahjong last week. Because you’re a prissy loser.”

“And you’re-”

You jab Eren in the side, signaling him to stop, as they both nod and she slides her way out. From the way he’s arguing, the look on his face is so similar to the one he gives Connie when they argue, you know they could go on for years if they got the chance.

“Fuck you, Eren.”

“Eat shit, Lana.”

She flips him off as the door clicks shut behind her, the lack of her presence making you suddenly aware of your breaths. And of Eren, warm Eren rubbing into your shoulders and concerned green eyes staring into yours.

“I like her.” you whisper.

“Me too. Don’t tell her that though, she’s got an ego problem.” he responds.

You laugh, which has him smiling at you, and suddenly you’re sobbing. And on cue, Eren has his arms around you, his touch warm and his voice oh so soft that it kills you. That you haven’t seen him in two months. And haven’t talked to him for longer.

“Eren.”

“Hey, hey. Don’t cry, it-it’ll be okay. I- we’ll fix this, okay? I’ll call Levi and Hange, whoever you want, they’ll all come and-”

You reach up, tangling your arms around his neck as he keeps nervously talking, trying to hold you closer even though it’s not physically possible. And he’s just so-

So familiar that he feels like home.

“You’re breaking my heart here, Y/N. Please stop crying, I-I’ve got you, okay?” he murmurs, straight into your skin as you nod, trying your best to even out the sobs still leaving you. And slowly but surely, the stream slows and your breath evens out enough to get at least a few words out.

“Okay. Okay, okay. I’m okay.”

“Y/N?”

“Hm?”

“As much as I like holding you, you’re freezing. Take a shower first and we can do this all you want, okay?”

You pull back, wiping the tears off your cheeks and giving him a nod. He gives you a small smile, before placing his hands on your shoulders and leading you down towards the bathroom. And you don’t miss all the posters and pictures he has on his walls - one from each season of Attack of Titan, a few of him and Armin, and even one of him and Lana flipping off the camera together.

He pushes you into the bathroom and immediately turns on the shower all the way to the hottest setting, before turning around and putting his hands on his hips.

“Towels, clothes, shampoo. There’s soap in there already and take as long as you want. Sit in here for three days if you have to just- do-do whatever you have to do and-”

You pick up the bottle of shampoo, the lavender scented Pantene, the one that you’ve been using since you were fifteen. And you know, you know that Eren’s atrocious ass uses a three in one hair and conditioner so it’s not his.

“Eren.”

“Hm?”

“Did you just happen to have the brand of shampoo that I use?”

“N-no. Those are Lana’s.”

“Then why are they unopened?” you ask, giving him a smirk.

He glares at you, before rolling his eyes and holding your face. And now he’s leaning so close, so close that your lips are only a few feet away from yours, when he talks.

“You know why you can’t make fun of me for keeping a spare of your shampoos in my house?” he whispers, green eyes burning in yours.

“Why?” you whisper back, stomach lurching.

“Because you’re actually here. I knew you’d come back to me.” he responds, giving your cheek a pinch before walking out.

And when you watch him walk out, giving you one last smile before he shuts the door, you can’t help but roll your eyes. Typical Eren. Funny, irritating, and soft all in one.

He’s the same as you left him.

You pad out of the shower, Eren’s hoodie and sweatpants ridiculously huge on you, as you follow the sweet smell into the kitchen. Eren is leaned over the counter, sliding vegetables into two bowls of ramen as you walk in.

“Hey.”

“Hi. Took a while. Thought you died in there.” Eren responds, pressing his hands to your skin to test how warm they were.

“I almost wish I did.” you respond, laughing.

Except Eren doesn’t find it funny and instead he’s dropping the utensils and standing at your side.

“Y/N.”

“I was joking!”

“Nothing about that was funny. Don’t ever joke about that.” he responds, rummaging through the drawers at your side before pulling out a little tube of gel.

Eren taps the top of the counter, which you jump onto, before he takes his place in between your legs. His hands are focused on reading the instructions, forehead all scrunched up in concentration.

“What’s that?”

“It’s like this…scar ointment or whatever. Helps things heal better, I want to use it on that cut on your pretty face.” he responds, twisting it open and squirting some on his finger.

He brings his hands to your face, eyes intently focused on your cheek. You hiss the second his finger makes contact with your skin, the tingling sensation catching you off guard.

“I’m sorry sweetheart, I know it hurts.” he whispers, smothering the cold gel down the side of your eye.

“I-I fell on the pavement. My knees are pretty bad too, Eren.” you whisper, which he nods at.

After he finishes, he’s carefully sliding the ends of your pants off and carefully placing the ointment on each of the jagged marks on your legs. And you eye the bowls of ramen at your side - knowing instantly that the one without mushrooms is yours - and reach for the food. The broth is so warm it soothes the aching feeling in your throat, still seasoned to perfection the way Eren always makes it.

“Eren.”

“Hm?”

“Can I ask you a weird question?”

“Sure.”

“Are you and Lana dating?”

He looks up from your leg and gives you a devilish smirk. And then starts laughing. Like full on, crouched over, tears from his eyes laughing.

“Okay. It wasn’t that funny.” you murmur, rubbing your hands against the warm bowl and frowning.

“Oh god, Y/N. Jesus-”

“It’s a normal question! She lives with you, you trusted her to come get me, and you guys have a picture together in the hallway.”

“Are you jealous?” he asks, standing up and leaning straight into your space.

“Absolutely not.”

“Are too.”

“Am not.”

“You don’t need to get all embarrassed. Watching you kiss Ricky James made me want to break something, preferably his neck.”

You swallow hard at the mention of Ricky again, the thought of him and what happened was so far away because you were with Eren. In his space, in your shared bubble, after so long. And he catches on too fast because he’s already profusely apologizing.

“Hey. I didn’t mean to bring him up, I-I’m not trying to push you into telling me what happened it’s just-”

“No. No, Eren. It’s okay. I know. I-”

You breathe in hard and put the bowl of ramen down and reach for his hands instead. You keep your eyes focused on them - on the little mole on his left hand, the feeling of his knuckles underneath your fingers, and on him squeezing your hands three times before you start talking.

“Ricky and I were faking the relationship for PR. Since London Boy and all that, it was Danny and Sareen’s idea. That-that’s why I stopped talking to you, I-I felt bad. And I was ashamed that I was even doing it, I-I don’t know. The Little Women press and all that, it would just get people to stream and talk. Make me a triple threat. And then today, I- He told me he liked me. And I said I couldn’t do that right now. That I don’t like him back. I went to take out the trash because it was so awkward and then I was going to go home but he- he locked me out. And when I asked to come back in, he repeated the same words to me. That he couldn’t do that right now.”

Eren lifts your hands, still locked with his, and presses a kiss to the top of your knuckles, as you continue. His lips burn your skin, still.

“I was out there and it-it was cold. And then I heard the cars and I saw seven paparazzi trucks, right on the porch. Ricky, his address isn’t leaked. No-no one knew I was there or that he was but they all showed up, right when I was out there and-”

“He called them, didn’t he?” Eren asks, his tone so harsh, so unyielding that it almost doesn’t sound like him.

“Yeah. And I ran, for so long. I- they got a picture. A few, I know they did and I was just so, so scared that I was going to be out there forever, that I was all alone and they were just going to-”

Eren reaches forward, wrapping you in his arms for what feels like the fiftieth time tonight, but you welcome it. Focus on his heart beating under your ear, running your fingers over his fish tattoo on his bicep, and on his soft, steady breaths.

“Eren.”

“Hm.”

“You didn’t say anything. What are you thinking about?”

“What I’m thinking isn’t productive for you to know right now.”

You look up at him, giving him a questioning look.

“Drop it, Y/N.”

“No. Tell me. I’m sure you’re mad and all but-”

“Mad? I’m fucking furious, I’m livid. That he fucking locked you out and left you in the cold. You-you could have been seriously hurt. You are hurt. And not only that, the fucking paparazzi. You-you ran in the cold, you fell, you can’t stop crying and-and- I’m going to kill this asshole when I see him next because it’s his fault you’re feeling like this.”

“Eren.”

“No. Shut up, Y/N. I’m being serious. I-I don’t like seeing you like this and don’t tell me not to. He hurt you. It’s that simple.”

You deflate, knowing Eren too well to know that he won’t drop this. Especially when he’s overly passionate, deep in the feeling right now.

“Okay. But can you just be here for me right now? I need you here and not all….tense and mad. B-Be soft. And warm.”

He stops, the frustration in his forehead dissolving as he takes a breath and smiles at you. Not fully, but it does the job.

“Okay. I can do that. Let’s watch Fruits Basket. And then go to bed.”

“You hate Fruits Basket.”

“But I love you. Enough to watch your weird bestiality adjacent show and pretend to like it.”

You smile and he reaches forward to pinch your cheeks.

“Look at that smile. There she is. There’s my sweet girl.” he whispers, voice all tangled in his throat.

You wake up to an empty bed, Eren’s side cold. And you pull his hoodie on before padding downstairs to find Eren’s phone pressed to his ear. He gives you a wave and points to the plate - a mix of eggs, french toast, and fruits - perfectly placed to perfection.

You give him a smile and he walks off, taking the phone with him. You frown as you watch him disappear, jabbing your fork through the cantaloupe.

What is he talking about that’s so important he doesn’t want you to hear?

You jump off of the stool and quietly pad towards the direction he walked, hiding in the hallway. He’s leaning against the wall, staring at the picture right across - one of Levi and Hange kissing your cheeks at the vow renewal - and angle yourself to hear his words.

“Is he okay?”

“I’m glad. You tell me if you need anything else, okay?”

“Okay, Coco. I missed you too, yeah?”

Who the fuck is Coco?

He hangs up and you immediately scramble back to the kitchen, trying your best to stay inconspicuous as he comes back and gives you a smile. It doesn’t reach his eyes, the expression on his face almost tired.

“Hey sleepyhead. You okay?”

“Mhm. Food is really good, Eren.”

He gives you a smile as he sits at your side, eyes focused on you as you eat your food. He places both of your phones in front of you, and you spot yours with nearly a hundred notifications. But when you reach for it, Eren grabs your hand in the air and locks it on his own instead.

“Just-wait. Eat first.” he says, his tone hollow.

You turn your head to the side and take in Eren’s expression, downtrodden and uncharacteristically unexpressive. The complete opposite of Eren yesterday - moony eyes and soft smiles.

“Eren.”

“Y/N. If I ask you to do this for me, can you trust me and listen?”

“No. You-what’s wrong? You’re being weird.” you ask, reaching for his hand.

He looks over, the look indiscernible, as he leans forward and presses a kiss to your cheek.

“You-I took care of most of it, okay? Levi and Hange are coming. Just, don’t panic. You-it’s okay.”

“Eren. You’re scaring me. Just tell me.”

He takes a deep breath, cracking the knuckles in your hand as he nervously talks.

“You-your pictures leaked. The ones of you running last night. And-and people started speculating really fast - wondering why you were running and crying on the night your album released instead of celebrating it. And-and then Ricky, he tweeted a bunch of things.”

You pale. And reach for your phone, which Eren stops again.

“They’re lies. Obviously. You don’t need to read them, not yet. And Lana told me she’s ready to back you up, whatever you want, when you need it. But, that’s not-”

“What, Eren? Just spit it out.” you respond, frantically.

“They- Ricky’s fans are mad at you. They’re sending you death threats.”

“Oh.”

You deflate, staring at the cold mess of breakfast on your plate. Death threats. Hate, you’re no stranger too. Of people commenting on your looks, how bad your singing is, how lame you are. But wishing you were dead? Full on, unbothered and cursing your existence?

“And not just you, but your family too.” he whispers, watching your face fall.

Your family. Your parents, Colt, Falco-

“Excuse me. What did you just say?

Eren doesn’t respond and the tears fall immediately from your eyes, hot and angry as he reaches forward, immediately swiping them away. His expression's pained, he knows this all too well.

“I sent your family a security detail. Don’t worry. Colt was only minorly injured and-”

You stand up and grab Eren’s shirt, bundling the fabric into a fist in your hands, as you glare at him.

“Injured? What the fuck do you mean injured, Eren?”

He sighs, lifting his hands to move yours, and hold them. You’re still clenching hard, so hard you’re sure you’re drawing blood, but he’s doing his best to uncurl your hands as he talks.

“They threw a brick through the window. And the glass, Colt was sitting right there. I was just on the phone with Falco, he said he’s doing better. The security detailing has medical so you don’t have to worry about that again and they’re both okay and-”

“No part of this is okay, Eren! Quit saying it’s okay when it’s not! They almost killed my brothers.”

“Y/N.”

“No. No, this is horrible, Eren. They-they don’t do any of this stuff. Falco’s barely thirteen. And Colt - he’s going to college. He’s not a celebrity, he’s not a singer, he’s just a student. How is he supposed to go out after this? Why- how is it supposed to be normal? And now, they’re going to be like us. They’re going to feel like they’re trapped in this fucking suffocating ass fish bowl and everyone’s watching and laughing at them and they just-”

“Y/N. Stop. It’s not going to-”

“Falco’s too soft for this. He’s just a kid, Eren. I can’t- no. This isn’t fair. Eren, they didn’t even do anything. They’re literally just related to me, they just love me and they’re getting hurt because of it. You- you’re probably getting dragged in the mud too. Everyone who helps me gets subjected to this, loving me comes with this big thing behind me and I can’t even keep people who get it with me. I let you go when you were the only person who understood and I messed it all up and got myself involved with Ricky James of all people and-”

“Y/N. Stop. Please."

You sit flat on Eren’s floor, head in your hands, and cry, teardrops falling straight onto the floor. And Eren’s sitting there with you, with your big mess of jumbled feelings and mistakes, and trying his best to help you with it.

That’s how Levi and Hange find you two, after pocketing the spare key Eren told them about. After he insistently called them and payed for a private jet, going on and on about how Y/N needed them. And here you two are, despite their original conceived notions that you two were fighting, on the floor, in each other’s arms.

“Some things never change, huh?” Hange whispers.

“Yeah. They keep fucking crying every time we see them.” he whispers back.

Between Levi and Hange - Jean, Mikasa, and Connie who make it out that night - and Eren and Lana, they fix things. Most things.

Ricky’s narrative about you is clear cut - half-true and half-fake. Your team forced him to date you and defend you for PR purposes, after the Girlfriend incident. There was an agreement that you two would write certain songs, make certain appearances, and support each other.

But then Ricky turns the gate. Says that you’ve deeply, severely hurt him. That you led him on, that you used him to boost your own ego, and that you were dangerously obsessed with fame and not him. That you were all things - heartless, fake, that he doubted if you were even a real person. A glorious pop-star, empty and hollow on the inside.

And people jump on it fast. Citing the fact that you would throw away your friendship with Historia to be famous, that you stopped dating Eren when he stopped being successful, that you can go to tours but not to Mikasa or Jean’s birthday parties.

The worst part? Ricky lied, but the things they pointed out were true. Every mistake you make is on display and that people make it a point to draw attention o it. That you really were in too deep, too deep into pleasing Sareen and Danny, and being a triple threat that you forgot that they were all there too.

Eren, especially. Sweet, sweet Eren who saved you, who held you when you needed him.

You look over at him and Lana, the two of them very aggressively debating how to use their last turn of their daily Wordle, and feel your heart deflate.

You dropped the ball. You’ll never make it up to him.

Lana, in her infinite kindness, has chosen to share her own story, as a corroboration for yours. That Ricky taunted, mocked, and harassed her the entire time they were dating. That you're anything but the things he says. Because she’s had enough and she’ll do it to help out her Tinky-Winky. (Much to Eren’s dismay, he hates that you’re both becoming closer as time goes on.)

And to complement the announcement, Lana asked for one thing. To go out in style. You wrote a song with her and promised her that she was going to be the lead actress in the music video. A girl rage moment, like The Man. Danny and Sareen approve the move, making no comments or concerns about anything else that happened, and ask to be involved when the time comes.

You sit on it for a few days. Till you’re ready. But where you are now - with these people - needs to stay for a little longer. Before you brace everything again.

“Yo.”

You smile, opening up space for Connie on the couch for you.

“Hi Con.”

“Deep in your thoughts there, princess. Thinking about how your album is about to go Multi-Platinum?”

“No. Just the entire thing.” you respond, frowning.

Connie rolls his eyes, reaching forward to squish your cheeks way too hard.

“Ricky, when I catch you, Ricky-” Connie says under his breath,

You snort, reaching forward to push Connie off. You focus back on Eren and Lana, who are now pulling each other's hair and a nice string of insults, as Mikasa and Levi brew their tea, entirely unbothered in the back.

And when the screen in front of you flashes, when your third album goes Multi-Platinum after a week of being released, they’re all climbing on you. Jean and Mikasa are hollering in the back, Connie and Lana are jostling you in the air and pressing kisses to your cheek, and Eren, Levi, and Hange smile at you, the three of them enveloped in their own hug, across the way.

You split your separate ways at the end of the week, when you’re ready. Connie, Jean, and Mikasa return to set, Lana and Eren are gone with the wind, and Levi and Hange disappear again.

When you sit on your plane back home, it sits in. How lonely this entire thing is. How a week full of your friends who love you only happened because of this sickening thing. That it's not a given, that they're presence is only in the bad times and almost never the good.

Your phone buzzes in your lap and you pick up your phone to read the notification.

eren: don’t be a stranger. fish like to swim in schools, not alone.

It’s something that rings in your mind, time and time again. When everyone else wins the war, when you keep performing and letting them take and take, for the sake of the work. For the art, for your dream.

And when you give up acting, singing, and dancing at the end of it all and make zero intentions to ever do any of this again, the question still bothers you.

If fish like to swim in schools, why did Eren push you so far away? Why was he so intent on swimming alone? Where you couldn't follow?

eren: I'm not saying that for you. and I know that this is selfish but...

eren: I need you just as much as you need me.

Fucking liar.

next part linked here

taglist:

@k0z3me @kayleegomez @yihona-san06 @bsenpai @sweetenertea @mykyoon @violetmatcha @rebeccawinters @cutiejg @bokutosthings @bookwrmm @mblrrr @wheredidmycrowngo @somethinginyoureyes7 @chilichopsticks @okaystopwhore @you-always-made-me-blush @itzmeme @firelordazulaaaa @whoami-72 @g-ghostly @intimacywithceline @erensmoodygf @cocomellxn @princess-ackerman @jaegerfiles @cacapeepee @squirrelspoetry @rui-0836 @moonmalice @invisible-mori @sofiasber @bbybeeb @timetobegone @tee4str @ttokki2 @leave-rae-alone @ec3lipsy @officialsimpp @gojojang @yookayyo @lordbugs @multiplefandomthings @iobeyfandoms

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leclsrc · 11 months

Note

well deserving of 3k (and more), your stories literally bring me comfort, even the sad ones🫶🏻

could we have an angst one with Charles (with a happy ending?) maybe with the tiredness drabble

what you know – cl16

In the grand scheme of things, Charles doesn't know much, but he's sure of one thing.

auds here... scheduled bec i am off my phone lately! love u anon sry so late

Your moving away is a big deal—a garage sale for all the things you’d grown out of, a weekly schedule for everyone to help out, Arthur assigning himself to track the flight to JFK to make sure you “don’t crash on the way there.” You assure him you won’t. Pascale emails the exchange program six times a day to make sure your housing is all ironed out. Lorenzo mixes the color to repaint your room and sorts out your mum’s CDs.

Charles, however, wants nothing to do with it.

The usual route to your house feels so much longer now. He hates having to drive knowing you won’t be inside soon enough. But Pascale absolutely insists he help out last-minute, so two days before your flight, he drives the five minutes to your house and trods through the piles of boxes and luggage collecting at the bottom of the stairwell. The inside of your room, however, is more of the same; boxes, boxes, and a bed in the middle, already stripped bare.

He doesn’t say hi. He picks up a sweater and goes straight to—

“It is going to be awful,” he says, trying to lift his voice so it passes as a joke even if you both know there’s more truth to it than he intends. “You are going to have a shit time and your housing will leak and you’ll step on a rat.” He stares at the intricate stitching on your knit sweater as he awaits your response, which he expects—from years and years of knowing you—to be equally snarky and sarcastic.

“What do you know?” is what he hears instead, leaving your lips in a weak whisper.

Your hands freeze where they’re wound around Charles’ half-folded tee, the one you wear to sleep most nights, worn thin. You’re waiting for him to reply, to tell you what he knows. It’s your way of telling him to stop, stop trying to make me leave, because I am leaving and you cannot change that. He can’t bring himself to meet your eyes, so he stares at the pale knit, then your hands. You’re right—what does he know? He’s twenty-one, for Chrissake, he doesn’t know much at all.

He hasn’t been to New York, and relies on viral myths and preceded reputations to tarnish its image in your eyes. He hasn’t been in a student exchange program and relies on his ability to exaggerate stories to somehow scare you into not going. For all his trying, he actually knows nothing about either of those things. So in that respect, he’ll digress, fine—he doesn’t know anything.

But he knows a thing or two about loss, about loss and terrible goodbyes and leaving. He knows almost nothing, but knows it’s ripping him in half to have to say goodbye to you. He knows his heart’s been at its feet for you since it could stand, and not in the unexpected, almost accidental way. He knows he’s felt for you with deep intention, on purpose, like it’s all he was ever made to do. That, he knows. He loves that he knows. There was never a stunning realization, the stuff of movies—there was just a quiet settling with something he’d felt since forever.

Here, surrounded by boxes taped shut and pried open, he wishes he’d settled earlier. He wishes he told you earlier. Maybe he wouldn’t have changed anything, but at least you would’ve known then. At least then he wouldn’t be the clueless prick shit-talking New York in front of his visibly excited best friend. He grows the guts to meet your eyes then, finds they’re already staring into his.

You wait for a response. And it comes. “I know I love you.”

A smile brings itself to your lips, and you shake your head with mild disbelief. “Well,” you say, setting aside the tee and climbing closer toward him. “I know that, too.” You’ve known since you were six and he doused your hair with blue hairspray—since he ate half the cake on your eighth birthday—since he bought you a cake the year next—since he grew up and started racing and wrote you daily emails.

You lean closer, until your faces are just shy of each other’s. Then you hug him, like you’ve been waiting to touch him for years, with a quickness that roars desperation and yearning. Your arms wind around his neck and his around your waist, and you let a few rogue tears fall despite yourself, wiping them before he can see when you pull apart.

“You’re going to be okay.” He says, assuring himself more than you.

“So will you.” You smile. “Come visit, okay?”

A hand finds yours underneath the pile of clothes and, hidden from view, intertwines your fingers. You squeeze. This is new, uncharted territory you’ll admit you know nothing about, no matter how soft and warm it all feels. But, as it turns out, you have time—and you have Charles, whose green eyes you fell for long, long ago.

#f1 #leclsrc3000 #charles leclerc #charles leclerc imagines #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc drabble #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc fluff #f1 x reader

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soulrph · 2 years

Text

𝙁𝙄𝙍𝙎𝙏-𝙏𝙄𝙈𝙀 𝙋𝘼𝙍𝙀𝙉𝙏𝙎 𝙋𝙍𝙊𝙈𝙋𝙏𝙎 (𝙋𝙏. 1)

as requested by a powerfully patient and endlessly lovely nonnie!! there will be more lists like this, because frankly, parenthood is a whole theme park of roller coasters with unique challenges and milestones in each of them! but these are for parents who have recently become parents to a newborn! i also have requests for prompts based on foster families and adopted children, but i'd like to do my own research before i dive too deeply into those, because obviously the rules vary from country to country, but i digress! i sincerely hope you all enjoy these! unclench your jaw, drink some water, roll back your shoulders! DO NOT ADD TO THIS LIST PLEASE!!

" if you waken that baby, so help me god, there won't be a corner of the universe that will protect you from my wrath. "

" do you wanna hold him/her/them? here, it's okay! just support the neck like... yeah, there you go! you got it! "

" no, no, it's okay, i'm not going anywhere. the baby spit up on everything i own except this sparkly little number, so i'm waiting for the washing cycle to end until i can change out of this! come on in. "

" i don't think i've had a full night's sleep since the baby came along. "

" i'm gonna train this kid, night and day, until they say my name before yours. that's my goal. my name is gonna be their first word. "

" i love my baby. more than i ever dreamed possible! but they've kept me awake since the second they were born! i seriously need a nap... could you keep an eye on them until i wake up? just twenty minutes, i promise you! "

" it kinda feels like every single person in the world suddenly has a PhD in parenting to make me feel incompetent with. "

" i think our sweet angel's gonna be a rock star with that set of lungs! "

" we need a new babysitter. preferably one who won't read rosemary's baby to our newborn. "

" god, they're so precious when they're asleep... can you believe we're that kid's parents?! "

" how can something so tiny go through a billion diapers every single day?! "

" they smiled at me today! actually smiled, i swear! that baby is a genius! and no, it wasn't trapped gas, before you say it. "

" that darling child ripped a fistful of my hair out today, so if you see a bald spot, now you know why it's there. "

" shh... shh, honey, it's okay. the baby woke up, but i'm handling it. you just go back to sleep now, okay? "

" i was thinking... if, for whatever reason, i'm not able to take care of the baby, i was wondering if you might be okay with being their legal guardian? "

" so pre-schools aren't only super competitive, they've also got some insanely high standards now, too! one of them won't even let me bring my car in unless it's completely emission-free! "

" the baby has a remarkably dark sense of humour. they only seem to laugh when i stub my damn toe on the crib at 4 in the morning. "

" we had a somewhat violent reaction at the diaper station this morning. so that meant i had to bathe and change the little cherub twice in ten minutes, and then go take another shower and find new clothes unscathed by infant vandals again. "

" he/she/they have your eyes. and your batshit insane sleep schedule. "

" you know what really pisses me off? when people act as though new parents have it easy. like a newborn is the easiest thing in the world to handle. i'd like to see them make coffee, change a diaper and fold a onesie one-handed! "

" isn't it so crazy that this tiny little human, who can't even hold their own head up yet, might be like, a president or something one day? "

" i'm really sorry, i know we had plans tonight, but i literally just got the baby to sleep and all i wanna do is lie down and eat the leftovers of a bag of potato chips until i fall asleep. i haven't showered all week, i can't remember the last time i wore clean clothes, and... it's just not gonna work out tonight. "

" i figured you wouldn't have much time to cook, what with the baby and all. so i decided i'd bring a lasagna and some groceries over to you, and i can keep an eye on the little one while you take a nice hot shower and eat your dinner in peace! "

" hey... relax. i promise you, the babysitter can handle it for a few hours! and if they need you, they've got your phone number, right? so just... take a night off. sit back. enjoy yourself. the baby is fine, i promise you! "

" you know, if you guys wanted a date night, i could mind the baby for you? "

" i swear, this baby is the freaking jackpot of excuses to not attend all those events! all the times i wanted to throw sharon's awful hummus at her face during those dinner parties, and now i don't even have to go anymore, all because of this beautiful, wonderful little baby! "

" i mean, sure, sometimes i'm crying 24/7 and i don't know what the hell i'm doing! but then i'll tickle the baby's little foot and they'll laugh for thirty minutes, and it just makes me so insanely, immeasurably happy! "

" what do you think? will we try for baby number two? make this little angel a big brother/sister/sibling? "

" i need a night out. please. i'm begging you. i cannot sing another single note of baby shark! please, even a trip to the grocery store would do! "

" god, couldn't you just sit and watch them sleep forever? "

" oh god, he/she/they're crying! the baby's crying! oh man, is that a hungry cry or a diaper cry?! talk to me, little baby! "

" i cannot believe we just paid four figures for a cradle when the baby won't even sleep unless they're in our arms... "

" you know, that little baby is so freaking lucky to have you as their mom/dad/parent. "

" a-actually, maybe you better keep holding them. i mean, what if i hurt them by accident? or what if i scare them? babies don't like me, they never have! "

" you know, i always thought newborn babies looked like potatoes. but this kid is pretty darn cute! "

" i believe congratulations are in order. where's the new addition? "

" i never realized how expensive diapers were until now... "

" mm... honey, the baby... the baby's crying. wake up, baby, go help the baby... "

" nice try, but i got the baby the last time. it's your turn now. probably a diaper change, too, by the sound of it. "

" how can someone so tiny drink so much freaking milk?! "

" i wish people would quit acting like parenting experts every single time they see me. believe it or not, i do know what i'm doing! "

" some stranger on the bus decided to let me know i was a terrible mother/father/parent for not choosing to raise the baby on a vegan diet. "

" did you think of any baby names yet? or is this sweet little angel still anonymous? "

" i'm thinking we should decorate the nursery while the baby's still napping. i got the paint in my car; what do you think? "

" this baby is officially more extroverted than me! every single person we met in the park, this socializing star was waving and smiling at them like crazy! "

" oh my god, remember that little blanket you gave us when the baby was born? yeah! they refuse to go to sleep without it now, it's the cutest thing ever! "

" oh, i took the most adorable photo of the baby yesterday while they were sleeping! wanna see? "

" i don't think you need to worry about your parenting skills. 'cause that little baby in there is the happiest, luckiest kid in the whole world just by having you in their life. they might not know it yet. but they are. "

" well, according to the principal at the last pre-school, we should have been booking placements before the baby was even conceived. "

" i wonder what kind of life this baby will grow up to live? "

" you're such a natural with the baby! he/she/they love you so much already; look how they're gazing up at you! "

" i'm so sorry, but we're gonna have to leave early; the bottle leaked all over my bag, and it's feeding time now, so it's either leave early or unleash a screaming infant on you! "

" would you mind holding the baby for a minute while i go grab my stuff? "

" don't judge, but we were out of clean onesies, so i dressed the baby in that huge old t-shirt you got at that concert five years ago. if i'm being honest, it suits them! "

" listen. i know i complain and i struggle. i honestly think my mistakes outnumber my triumphs, as far as parenting is concerned. but i have never loved anything nor anyone nearly as much as i love this baby. never. "

#rp meme #roleplay meme #sentence starters #dialogue prompts #ask meme #writing prompts #roleplay prompts #rp prompts #ask prompts #meme request.#roleplay prompt #rp prompt #parenthood tw #baby tw

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smoll-tangerine · 2 years

Text

ten reasons why i hate you: reason #5

SYNOPSIS. while you admittedly didn’t refuse the arranged marriage between you and jung jaehyun, that didn’t mean that you’d allow him to treat you like a doormat. for the emotional distress he had put you through during the months leading up to your engagement party, you ensure that he will pay for the way he had been treating you for the rest of his life.

PAIRING. rich boy!jaehyun x rich girl!reader GENRES. romance, angst, drama, rich kid!au CHAPTER WORD COUNT. 2261

WARNINGS. none.

DISCLAIMER. this is a work of fiction based on fictional events and characters. it is unrelated to any real people, organisations, locations, and events. the laws, and legal and medical interpretations in this work have also been modified for storytelling purposes.

TAGLIST. @crescent-iak @moonchele @ahtisa02 @ghostfacefricker6969 @jaehyunnie77 @jungish @anya-writes-stuff @hey-won @ishireads @xxxx-23nct @peachibevuti @shepeelsoranges (bolded = unable to tag)

[a/n]: thank you all so much for your comments!! i’m always so giddy when i read them hehe. this chapter doesn’t have any angst and it’s more fluffy(?) and it’s probably going to be the fluffiest of the chapters, so enjoy it while you can!! ♡ the honeymoon is broken down in 2 parts/chapters, so the next chapter will also be set during their honeymoon.

also, italicized sentences = spoken in italian because i was too lazy to actually write in italian. Also, fun fact, Vini Da Arturo is an actual restaurant in Venice and its owner’s name is actually Ernesto lol

← REASON #4 || MASTERLIST || REASON #6 →

REASON #5

You didn’t need a bachelorette party, but your friends digressed.

Jennie took the liberty of charting your private jet for a small girl’s trip to Paris. Though, you were pretty sure she just wanted to go to visit the Chanel store on Champs Élysées.

“So, spill the tea,” Jennie said to you with her famous feline-like smile. “How does it feel to be married to Jaehyun?”

Your tongue poked your cheek and you tried to refrain yourself from huffing out in frustration. “We’re not married yet.”

“Engaged, soon-to-be-married, married—in the end, isn’t it all the same?” Krystal commented with an air of nonchalance. “All of those specifics are not going to matter anymore in a matter of–” she glanced at her watch. “–thirteen hours and twenty two minutes.”

“No, it’s not the same.”

Your two friends noticed how the tone of your voice didn’t match with one of a happy bride that was about to get married in a day. They shared a look of concern and scooted closer to you.

“I thought the purpose of flying my jet instead of commercial so that we’d have our own personal space,” you mumbled tiredly.

You could practically feel the hesitation behind their words and actions, and you sighed. You never meant to turn the atmosphere into one where your best friends needed to tiptoe around you.

You wondered whether you should tell them the truth about the whole situation. While they knew that your marriage was most likely arranged (a common occurrence in your world), they were also clueless to a number of details such as the fact that Jaehyun was still very much with his girlfriend, that you only went through with the engagement to spite him, and that Jaehyun hated your guts.

Or did he?

After the conversation you two had in your penthouse, you never saw each other again, other than just for a few dinners with the two families. You two never spoke to each other properly since then, so to speak. That was about almost a month ago.

You also took in more surgeries than usual to avoid thinking about the what-if’s and the nature of your relationship with Jaehyun.

Were you two now... friends?

You rid yourself of that idea. As long as you were going to stay married to him, preventing him from being with Chaeyoung, the idea of you two being friends was simply not feasible.

Not to mention your lingering feelings for him was an obstacle to whatever relationship you two might potentially have.

You bit your bottom lip in slight apprehension.

Jaehyun was no stranger to your feelings, whether they be romantic or negative. But wouldn’t it be better for your mental health and well-being if you two were to be civil with each other?

Your two feelings were not only at the opposite ends, but they were also clashing. And thinking about the way you had to treat Jaehyun onwards was more complicated than it seemed.

You thought that your romantic feelings for your fiancé was gone once and for all after your engagement party. But the way they so quickly resurfaced, like taking a breath of air after being underwater, showed that what you did was just bury them in hopes that they never recover.

Your efforts proved to be futile.

“Say, have you already gotten Jaehyun a wedding gift?” Jennie asked when she sensed that you had calmed down.

Your fingers tapped against the arm rest, thinking about the olive branch Jaehyun had extended to you. The one that made you think whether you’d be a monster for refusing it.

“Mhm,” you hummed as you came to a conclusion. “I think I know what I will get him.”

The wedding ceremony was kept relatively small, despite the media’s attention.

You wondered if that was how your wedding was supposed to be, because it certainly did not match with the vision you once had.

You glanced at your wedding band, one that you were certain that Jaehyun asked his secretary to get.

For some odd reason, it reminded you of Doyoung, of how he was also someone you were supposed to marry.

Only, your engagement fell through when you refused to go with him to Germany.

You glanced at Jaehyun who was sitting in front of you, and you felt an odd sense of déja vu. What was the point of using your private jet again if you weren’t given the space you hoped you would get? You would have thought that Jaehyun of all people would select a seat that was away from you, but contrary to your expectations, he didn’t.

If anything, he looked excited to be going on the honeymoon with you.

“What should we do when we land?” Jaehyun asked you as he was looking through a brochure on things to do in Venice. “I heard that Venice is always packed with tourists. But since it’s slowly sinking into the lagoon, it’s good that we get to visit it before it completely disappears, right?”

His excitement was unnerving to you.

“...Venice is sinking because of climate change and tourism,” you muttered as you looked outside, the jet slowly descending to land in the Venice Marco Polo Airport. “And besides, who says that I was going to spend time with you?”

Jaehyun seemed surprised by your statement. “What do you mean? Aren’t we on our honeymoon?”

“I don’t recall saying that we aren’t?”

“Then, why are we not spending time together?”

“Why do you even want to spend time with me?” you refuted almost in annoyance. “I know it’s not enough that we’re now married against your will, so shouldn’t you thank me that I’m giving you space?”

Jaehyun fell silent.

You immediately felt awkward at his reaction, not expecting him to be disappointed by the fact that you wanted to be away from him.

But shouldn’t he be happy that you were giving him freedom? He could do whatever he wanted!

But this was one of the times where your feelings for him took over whatever hatred that was left in your heart.

You sighed through your nose. “There’s a little bit of time before check-in and we haven’t eaten lunch yet. Let’s go grab a bite together.”

His face instantly brightened up at your words and went back to his brochure. “Oh, we can–”

“Drop the brochure,” you said with a small smile. “I’ll bring you to my favourite place in Venice.”

Your favourite restaurant in Venice was a very small and cozy restaurant nestled in a side alley called Vini Da Arturo, a gem of a place you have found before you became a surgical intern.

“Ernesto!” you exclaimed happily as you two finally arrived at the restaurant. “Ciao!”

“Ah, bella!” Ernesto replied with the same enthusiasm. “The usual?”

“Yes, thank you.”

Ernesto glanced at Jaehyun who only smiled obliviously. “That’s not the same man I saw you with last time.”

While Jaehyun was not fluent in Italian, you remembered that he was fluent in Spanish instead. And those two languages were practically the same. Yet for some reason, you hoped that Jaehyun didn’t understand what Ernesto just said to you, even if you had a feeling that he probably wouldn’t care.

“This is my husband, Jaehyun,” you said not exactly answering his question. “Jaehyun, this is Ernesto, the restaurant’s owner.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Ernesto,” Jaehyun greeted him. “I look forward to your food.”

“You won’t be disappointed!”

Ernesto brought you to your favourite table, which was the second to last booth from the back. Close enough to the kitchen that you could hear what was going on, but not close enough that you’d be bothered by the kitchen commotion.

“Do you know why Ernesto’s restaurant is so special compared to the other restaurants in Venice?” you asked giddily, ignoring how conflicted Jaehyun’s eyes seemed at the moment.

“Jaehyun?”

“Huh, yeah?”

“Did you hear what I said?”

He closed his eyes for a moment. “Yeah, no, sorry, could you repeat that?”

“I said, do you know why Ernesto’s restaurant is so special compared to the other restaurants in Venice?”

He shook his head.

“Ernesto’s restaurant doesn’t serve fish dishes,” you answered. “Only meat.”

“A small restaurant in Venice that doesn’t serve fish dishes?” Jaehyun questioned. “Pardon my language, but is he mad?”

You laughed. “A mad genius! Trust me. You’ll see when you taste his pork chop and eggplant salad.”

True to your words, Jaehyun did call Ernesto a mad genius as soon as he took a bite of the pork chop.

After eating, all you wanted to do was get back to your hotel and sleep off your jet lag. But Jaehyun’s eyes begged you to hop on a gondola and tour around Venice. You understand that it was, surprisingly, Jaehyun’s first time in Venice, but you were staying a whole week in Venice—he’ll have enough time to tour the city on a gondola.

So, the compromise you two came up with was a water taxi. Though, because the hotel you were staying in was already so close and at a walking distance from the restaurant, you two had to walk back to the S. Toma’ “A” ferry terminal—located around ten minutes walking-distance away from Vini Da Arturo—so that Jaehyun could fully enjoy the water taxi ride.

Twenty-five minutes later, your water taxi arrived at Hotel Danieli, your favourite hotel in Venice. You loved it due to its rich history and architecture. While the outside looked like the rest of the city, it was the interior décor and architecture that always blew your mind away.

“Welcome back to Venice, signora,” the hotel concierge greeted you. “The Doge Dandolo Royal Suite has been prepared for you and your guest.”

You smiled in thanks and handed over your passports. “Our documents.”

“Thank you,” he said as he processed everything. “The hotel would like to offer you a complimentary night free of charge, as one of our most esteemed guests. Would you and your guest like to stay for another night?”

You didn’t know Jaehyun’s schedule, but you weren’t about to refuse the offer.

“We’ll stay.”

“Wonderful,” the concierge continued. “Will everything be charged to the card we have on file?”

“Yes, please.”

“Amazing,” he said and handed you the keys to your room. “Enjoy your stay.”

You followed the bellman to your room and tipped him as soon as he dropped off your luggage. Jaehyun’s jaw evidently dropped at the grandiosity of the room. The Doge Dandolo Royal Suite was exquisitely decorated, reminiscent of 14th century Italian Renaissance-style.

Perhaps the opulence of the room scared Jaehyun a little as he stuttered out timidly, “S-so, h-how much d-does it cost for a whole w-week here?”

You stretched your whole body as you walked across the room, taking everything in. “I don’t know, it costs around 9500 euros a night so do the math.”

“9500 euros?” he exclaimed in disbelief. “Wait, so that’s about 67 000 euros for a whole week?”

“I mean, they’re giving us a complimentary night so it’s technically for eight nights.”

Jaehyun glared at you. His glare was so fierce that it reminded you of when you two first found out that you were engaged to each other.

“Do we have to stay in such a luxurious suite?”

You found Jaehyun’s attitude curious and intriguing.

While Jaehyun would be considered as nouveau riche, he certainly didn’t act like one. Most of the nouveaux riches you knew loved flaunting their newly accumulated wealth.

Aside from a few of his expenses, Jaehyun was quite particular with his money. It almost made you chuckle as you remembered just a couple of months ago, he was screaming at you that you shouldn’t look down at him for having less money than your family and that contrary to your beliefs, he indeed was able to afford the lunch at Yuta’s hotel.

“You and your family paid for the wedding,” you answered easily. “My family and I can pay for the honeymoon.”

It took a moment for him to accept this compromise, but Jaehyun seemed satisfied with your answer.

“Okay,” he said. “Also, have you thought about what you want to do tomorrow?”

You looked back at him with a weird expression. “...You want to spend time with me tomorrow too?”

It was probably the first time you’ve ever seen Jaehyun blush in front of you. “Well, whether I like it or not, we are married and are on our honeymoon! Shouldn’t we spend some time together before we head back home?”

This was unexpected.

You planned your honeymoon around the fact that Jaehyun didn’t want to spend it with you.

Did this mean that he didn’t hate you anymore?

“I don’t.”

“Huh?” You realised belatedly that you might have asked that question out loud and Jaehyun heard it.

“I don’t,” he repeated, “actually hate you.”

“Oh,” you answered dumbly. “That’s... good.”

“So, tomorrow?”

You shrugged and went to the bathroom to take a shower.

“We’ll see.”

Whether you liked it or not, Jaehyun’s sudden shift of attitude towards you was one that made you question his true intentions.

You constantly reminded yourself that just barely month ago, this man hated your guts with a fury for supposedly ruining his life. And one small and insignificant action on your part suddenly made him think of you differently?

What kind of game was he playing?

You didn’t know, but one thing you knew for sure was that you would emerge as the game’s winner.

← REASON #4 || MASTERLIST || REASON #6 →

#neowritingsnet #cznnet #jaehyun x reader #jaehyun romance #jaehyun angst #jaehyun fluff #jaehyun scenarios #nct x reader #nct 127 x reader #nct 127 scenarios #w: ten reasons why i hate you

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empressofmankind · 12 hours

Text

I know Robin is supposed to be fluent in the fantasy Linear B of the poneglyphs, but in the context of my increasingly complicated headcanon, where Croc (and Shivs) find her early on as a 14-year-old, it is much more interesting (and funny) to me if the reality of that ability is more akin to an eigth grader's grasp of English after their first few lessons. Most of it is from historical poneglyphs (they were archaeologists, after all) and mostly useless in the context of super secret weapons of mass destruction. We're not telling them that, though!

Which then caused the related notion that Robin, a tween-going-on-teen in the majority of my ship's main story real-estate, understandably considers herself crucial to everything going on and basically the Chosen One in her own life. "You need me and my special gift but I hate it here and I wish I was normal" she teen rages against her faux adoptive parents made out of literal water and sand, respectively. You can see why that fell flat, I am sure.

This ties directly into the notion that the infamous paperwork Sir Crocodile appears to always be doing isn't actually accounting of any sort. He's just been pouring over the same twenty-something rubbings of poneglyphs trying to pull a Ventris on this fantasy Linear B. After all, we've been deciphering dead languages and ancient scripts without the providential presence of magical teenager who happen to be able to read them fluently for some time now. The texts are few, but there's plenty poneglyphs and fragments out there, so we might accumulate more (and they do, several plot points in several WIPs), and they already know the context of what the critical text is supposed to be about which is a massive help. Because, the irritating part of deciphering a language, is that you need to already know what it is probably saying, to be able to figure out how it is saying it.

But I digress.

Anyway, Croco spending hours and hours pouring over those documents because that's what it takes (and is still taking, raising one for those still tackling Linear A). But as the whole looking-for-battleship-of-mass-destruction is supposed to be a secret, the minute someone enters his study he pulls his agenda and creditcard statements over it. And thus the eternal paperwork impression was made.

Shivs knows about all of this and goes along with it, apparently. He's so focussed on finding this magical-mythical ship and, she's a pirate, she's down with finding this franchise's Flying Dutchman (or Black Pearl?) What am I saying, she's a pirate helmsman, she'd LOVE to sail it, lmao. Mass Destruction whomst? Lets sail this baby into the sunset!

I digress. She Indiana-Joneses around Alabasta every so often, I am sure. I can see that in exactly the way I cannot see Croc crawling through any sort of dusty old tomb looking for new shards of frustratingly indecipherable ideograms for him to start smoking more heavily over.

What I am saying is that I've never been partial to Crocodile being a Big Stupid and that I am getting increasingly invested in him actually being a closet academic. I have a weird spin-off of the Mummy franchise in my head in which Shivs is Rick and Crocodile Evie.

APPARENTLY.

No, I wasn't really going anywhere with this, I just needed it off my chest. @tiredemomama is busy.

You're welcome.

#one piece #one piece headcanon #one piece fanon #sir crocodile #nico robin #poneglyph #headcanon #crocaine #one piece crocodile #op crocodile #buggy thoughts

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fullscoreshenanigans · 8 months

Note

Hello! It's lonely-cereal. I really adore your blog since I've been obsessed with the promised neverland for over 4 years. And I wanted to tell you an idea I had/hear your thoughts.

So, I'm currently writing a promised neverland x OC. (Canon timeline.) and I came up with line a fanmade demon world plant. It's called muerte. It works the very opposite of the Vida plant. It's related to it. Vida is like it's "evil twin." instead of sucking the life out of it's victims, it can undo the effects of vida If so desired. It only withers if the person who's touched it last is dying or has died. Since "Vida." means life in Spanish, but takes life away, I named the fanmade one muerte since that means "death." in Spanish, even though it can bring life back. I thought it'd be an interesting concept for promised neverland fandictions.

It started when Ray and my OC found it and gave one to each other to make sure the other was always safe before my OCS shipment.

It looks like this.

Anyways I just wanted to hear your thoughts about it since I believe it could be cool for TPN AUS or oneshots.

Heyyo 👋

Going to digress a bit to start off, but one of my reservations with the series can be summed up with these tags from @whamss on this poll regarding the ending:

#nothing serious that happens to any ‘good’ character lasts if they’re younger than 20 lol #again its been a hot ass minute but tpn was at its best when Shirai knew how to raise stakes and make them feel actually serious

With the specification of "good character under twenty whose name the reader is aware of before they die" because during the bunker raid and Andrew's subsequent pursuit, there are six innocent children who are murdered.

(Chapter 111)

Fred's, Malcom's, and Mary's deaths are particularly brutal in that rather than shooting them from a distance, Andrew chose to relish bludgeoning them to death with the butt of his rifle until their faces were unrecognizable.

However, none of them have any significant moments in the narrative prior to dying, and their names aren't revealed until this extra in chapter 119. I distinctly remember feeling Shirai was trying to have his cake and eat it too, running with this to say "see, death is still a real possibility for these kids!" The effect is muted though when I don't know who they are besides "background character whose design I vaguely recognize from earlier chapters" and all ten members of the Goldy Pond Resistance survived their gun battle with the demon nobles.

Reading all that in chapter 85 and then seeing Paula and Sandy alive in chapter 96 was so jarring and kind of a "lol okay I guess" moment for me on my first read. It's not actively wishing for the death or brutalization of children who are already victims of the farm system but wanting to see lasting consequences that have weight to them and seeing how characters cope. Sandy loses an eye, but much like Emma losing her ear, we never see him note his long-term struggles with that loss, such as having a larger blind spot, the anxiety and anger that would understandably result in, or even minor annoyances that when stacked together weigh on him. Compare to Lucas who, while still a very capable character, does reflect on how the loss of his arm impedes him.

Tying that back around to muerte, my initial thought was that it similarly feels like it's cheating the narrative on a surface-level read and it seems to rely more on soft magic than the series typically does. Compare to Mujika's blood that has seemingly magical properties. While we're never given the specific details of how it works, Norman's explanations of demon physiology in chapters 120, 126, and 127 are enough to ground it in the hard science of this series' universe. It provides something their genomes are missing and is potent enough to permanently stabilize them upon introduction to the body through consumption.

But again, this is only a surface-level read and I don't know all the details of your story.

Vida is like it's "evil twin." Instead of sucking the life out of its victims, it can undo the effects of vida if so desired. It only withers if the person who's touched it last is dying or has died.

How does it undo the effects of vida, which draws up a being's blood into its stem and then carries it to its petals that results in its flowers blooming? Does it naturally create chemicals that when introduced into a being's bloodstream don't harm said being but cause a negative reaction in the vida plant, resulting in it shriveling up and dying? What of the stab wound still left by it, which is a major factor in its victim's death due to piercing their heart? Does it provide potent clotting agents to prevent a being from bleeding out after its removal as well as rapid mending to flesh?

I'm also a bit confused by what causes muerte to wither, assuming that it has to touch a being that's in the process of dying in order to counteract the vida and restore life to them. If a being uses it on another being but they're unaware they're dying from a disease like cancer, or adrenaline is pumping and they're unaware of a fatal wound when they go to help someone else, is muerte rendered ineffective?

Another thing to consider and something that could potentially offset the narrative convenience of being able to undo death is how it factors into demon culture. Gupna is a carryover from the original faith. Is muerte seen as unholy and are beings saved/revived by it seen as unnatural in the eyes of the general demon population and/or those who follow the original faith? Would that put a human or demon revived by it in conflict with Sonju? Is it highly regulated by the demon nobility as another means of controlling the demon population, or is it so rare it's believed to be an extinct species of plant? Are beings hindered in some way after being revived or are they fully restored to a clean bill of health? Having power over death in a series where it's treated as a genuine finality would dramatically alter a culture and its relationship with the afterlife.

It started when Ray and my OC found it and gave one to each other to make sure the other was always safe before my OCS shipment.

Since Ray isn't aware of the intricacies of the gupna ceremony prior to the explanation Sonju gives Emma, I'm assuming this is initially a sweet gesture between friends because they thought the flower looked pretty, and it unwittingly ends up saving your OC's life? Cute. |3

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theflagscene · 1 year

Text

So I’ve seen some TwitIdiots on Twitter talk about how OffGun needs to retire from BLs and how they’ve had so many, blah blah blah. So now I’m gonna get technical on their asses, because if there’s one thing I love is being an anal retentive jerk with a technicality. Technically, OffGun has only ever done two BLs in their seven years of working together. I know, I know, just follow me for a moment while I explain -

Puppy Honey (2016)/Puppy Honey 2 (2017) - A basic by the numbers het drama, nothing amazing but not terrible either. Unless you count Krist being in the second one as terrible, which I totally do, but I digress. Not a BL, OffGun played the queer side dish that didn’t technically get together until the second season.

Teenage Mom (2017) - Jokey guest roles as a dentist and a dental assistant in episode 5 that are sleeping together, not a BL.

SOUTS S (2017) - Off plays a barely seen side character, Bright. Gun is an unnamed drunk at Bright’s bar, only seen on the DVD version of the series. The entire interaction is negligible but I thought I’d mark it down anyways.

Our Skyy (2018) - Technically a BL, but not an OffGun helmed series. A mini series featuring an ensemble cast of already established gay ships from other shows, OffGun has one episode as PickRome from Puppy Honey.

Theory of Love (2018) - OffGun’s first real BL, they were the main characters and it was a full blown BL series, complete with special episode follow up in 2020. The special episode is not a separate series, it is all part of the Theory of Love universe.

Love from Outta Space (2019) - Not a series but a twenty minute long commercial for a lipstick. Off plays himself, Gun plays an alien who looks like Gun. Heavily implied that Off loves Gun, which is why the alien took on his appearance. Does not count as a BL or even a series, it is a commercial that was cashing in on the pairings growing popularity at the time.

The Shipper (2020) - Guest roles as a couple outside a restaurant in episode 12, while the series itself is a BL, OffGun were background, blink and you’ll miss them, unnamed guest stars.

I’m Tee, Me Too (2020) - A comedy ensemble ‘bromance’ about the importance of platonic friendship. We all see what you were saying GMMtv and we still shipped the OffGun characters, you can’t teach us shit! But still, it’s not a BL and their characters were not a couple.

Not Me (2021) - OffGun’s second official BL, they were the main characters and it was a full blown series. No special episode as of yet, most likely won’t be one.

Club Sapan Fine 2 (2022) - BL elements, a massive ensemble cast. OffGun’s characters don’t even interact or know of one another, Off’s in episode one and Gun is in episode eight.

Cooking Crush (2023) - OffGun’s third official BL series, they play the main characters and it is a proper BL. Air date as of now is unknown, looks to be your standard rom-com set up.

So as you can see, over seven years and eleven series, they’ve only ever to this date actually headlined two BL series with their third on its way.

Gun had done BL’s before being branded with Off, such as The Blue Hour, Love Love You (he replaced Mild for just this one movie out of the trilogy) and Playboy and the Gang of Cherry. Whereas up until Puppy Honey, Off had never played a gay/bi/questioning character before or done a full blown BL series.

#offgun #off jumpol #gun atthaphan #offgun supremacy forever #puppy honey #theory of love #i’m tee me too #not me #club sapan fine 2 #cooking crush #thai bl #bl series

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drarrily-we-row-along · 8 months

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Hello, I've been a big fan of your blog for at least three years now but I wanted to ask what you recommend to people thinking about posting their writing/art online?. I'm a poet and I really want to post my work online but I'm terrified for a number of reasons. Mainly, about not being able to grasp people's attention. (And my work being stolen/ reblogged w/ credit but yk). I love your work and would really like to get your opinion on this.

Hi there lovely!

Thanks so much for the ask, I'm genuinely honored to be sent an ask of this nature; I'll do my best to give you my thoughts on the subject. <3 (I got a little long-winded, I'm really passionate about this. tldr; sharing a piece of yourself in your writing is absolutely terrifying but you should do it anyway.)

When I first started posting my writing (7 years ago?!) in the Sherlock fandom, I was so afraid that people were going to be mean. Literally the only way I could start posting was by telling myself that if everyone hated it, I could just delete it and pretend it had never happened. And I was terrified when I started posting drarry stuff on this blog and I told myself that if even 10 people liked it, that would be enough (I couldn't have imagined how many people would engage with this blog and my fics). Over 350 stories (ranging from 50-100k words) later, I still regularly get nervous about posting things.

I don't know how to get people not to steal other peoples' work. I don't know how to stop ai bots from consuming writing/art and popping out soulless shit because of what it consumed. There are no answers that I can give you on this front.

And if I'm being honest, I don't have the foggiest clue how to grasp peoples' attention. The follows this blog gets and the posts that get attention continue to be a mystery to me; I can't ever guess which things will gain traction and which stories will go dark (and sometimes I get pissy about it- my fic on AO3 with the most kudos is a stupid 1k story that I wrote in 30 minutes while stories that I've spent literal years writing do half as well, but I digress). And there are stories that I see other people writing that I'm obsessed with- their prose, their imagery, their crafting- that don't receive anywhere near as much love as they should and I can't understand that either. It often seems like there is no rhyme or reason to what "does well" and what doesn't.

Which is why I can't let myself get caught up in which stories are well received and which aren't. For me, writing and sharing things can't be about what will get the most reach because I can't base the story's worth (or my own worth) off of that or I'd never post anything at all. Don't get me wrong, I love for my fics to receive kudos/likes, comments, and reblogs- it's a euphoric high. But in the end writing has been about giving myself permission to be free to be an entire person without the constraints I put on myself day in and day out. It's been about putting into words all of my darkness, my fears, my failings, my desires, my wants and needs along with all of my beauty, and strength, and joy, and hope. It's been putting my heart down on a page and believing that the response I receive is less important than the process of self discovery. Over and over, I've written myself the life I want to have; I've written the type of partner I want to have, the type of partner I want to be; I've written about healing and self discovery. Writing for me has been a way to fall in love with myself over and over again, to heal woundedness, to offer myself some hope, some comfort, a dose of encouragement and bravery, a little bit of tenderness when it was scarce.

Reading fanfiction when I was in my early twenties saved my life. I'm not saying this to be dramatic, it is actually true. Reading fanfiction saved me from an abusive relationship and helped to keep me from going back. Reading fanfiction taught me what it meant to be loved well and it changed my standards for myself forever. Part of my desire to pour back into this community stems from that. If there is even one person whose life can be touched in that way, who can realize how lovable they are, who can see how they deserve to be treated and loved, my time was well spent.

I'm not saying that has to be your reason for sharing the gift of yourself. We all write and create for different reasons. But I do believe that all humans were made to create and we were all made to share ourselves in what we make. Share your words for you. Share them as an act of rebellion. Share them as an act of war or change. Share them as a way to express the deepest emotions of your being. Share them because they are a part of your own soul. Share them as an act of self-love and a way of honoring the unrepeatable, beautiful person that you are. Whatever your reason for sharing your words, make it a reason that is about you. You deserve to be seen and loved, to be known in a way that can only happen when you give yourself permission to be vulnerable. There are, in my humble opinion, few things that bare your soul the way that sharing something you've created does. Love yourself enough to give yourself away.

#i hope this helps!#you're beautiful #share your story #create #asks #writer ramblings #c rambles #i love writing

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trouslinabone · 1 year

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Horrortale was an AU with so much potential... But just like other AUs, like Help_Tale, The Other Puppet, and Underfell, even, the potential was wasted.

Please someone correct me if I'm wrong, but didn't Horrortale get cancelled right after things got interesting? Right before we even leave Snowdin, it just... Ended.

And all attempts at a fangame for Horrortale failed, miserably. The teaser was amazing, but it could be completed in a minute. Twenty minutes if you wanted to see everything. There was another fangame back in 2019, I believe... But let's be honest, there's a reason no one remembers that fangame attempt.

And all anyone took from Horrortale was that Sans was bad, and decided he should be in the bad Sanses... Which, I already explained why Sans wasn't bad at all and is actually one of the better people in Horrortale, but I digress.

Horrortale ended right when it was getting good, nothing ever came from it, and most people forget he doesn't even eat humans, a core aspect of his character.

The idea of a post neutral AU where the core shut down was an insanely good idea, and it was executed brilliantly. But the execution was too shortly lived, and no one has ever tried to make the AU work again, or at least not to the same care that Sour Apple had for it.

Off topic as hell, but why does everyone act like Sans using an axe is a corner stone for his character in Horrortale??? He uses it in one optional scene and it looks more like a cleaver than an axe.

#undertale #undertale au #horrortale #sans #sans au #bad sanses #deltarune #wasted potential #sour apple #sour apple studios #papyrus #deltarune au

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smokingtiger · 8 months

Note

Hi!

So I’ve seen many jikookers point out the fact that Jimin would have to have his mouth on jungkooks neck for a while for it to leave a mark. I was wondering what your thoughts on this are? Also, what are your thoughts on the whole bite mark situation in general?

Thanks!

I've sort of touched on this in a past post, but I overall found the entire situation to be incredibly humorous. Of course, it's not every day that this type of conundrum occurs, but the fact that it was something that made it into official content as a funny story is something I never expected to happen.

Usually, BigHit is one to protect the image of their artists, whether it be yawning or spitting up a drink with laughter -- so the fact that they decided to keep in Jimin's little drunken story of giving Jungkook an accidental hickey is odd and certainly unexpected. Perhaps they decided to leave this little tidbit of information in to quash any rumors that might possibly spread about Jungkook and his personal relationships given that they routinely film content and Jungkook is NOT going to wear a turtleneck while doing a day's worth of exercise. I mean, this fandom used to think light impressions left by seatbelts and bags were hickeys from secret girlfriends -- so there's no telling what they would do with an actual hickey on their hands.

In the post that I linked above, the anon was concerned with my use of the word 'hickey', probably attaching the more sexual/romantic nature of the word to the situation rather than the technicalities of how a hickey is made. I mention how hickeys are a result of trauma on the skin (whether it be sucking, biting, or any type of exerted suction/pressure), so it's entirely appropriate to label it as such, especially when Jimin himself admitted to biting him. If I had used 'love bites' or any other type of explicit terminology, I could see how that could be a more problematic denotion.

Now, what do I think about the hypothetical duration of Jimin's teeth on Jungkook's neck? Well, to be honest, I haven't really thought about it -- I guess I never considered how long he would have to hold him there to leave a noticeable mark. To be fair, it's not like I daydream about this or spend a lot of time thinking about this type of stuff in general ... but I digress. Ahem, anyways, according to a quick Google search, hickeys can begin to appear after twenty to thirty seconds of biting or sucking and they can take anywhere from five to twenty minutes to appear. Jimin wouldn't need to be on him long -- less than a minute at that.

I don't know how hard Jimin bit him and I don't know how long the bruise lasted, so it's not like I could say that I know how those factors contributed to the time spent gnawing on Jungkook's neck. Also, I guess the question really boils down to: what do people consider to be long? Perhaps half a minute is a significant amount of time for certain people in certain contexts.

I will say that I have bitten a friend before -- and before you start raising eyebrows, it was during a regular roughhousing session -- and I probably sunk my teeth into her for about ten seconds. Of course, it wasn't on her neck but on her arm, so even in a platonic sense, ten seconds is just slightly shy of hickey formation.

If Jimin was drunk and he was telling the truth, then he bit Jungkook and left his teeth there until Jungkook let him go. Perhaps Jungkook dragged it out knowing his playful nature and Jimin decided to leave it there for twenty seconds or more to get the message across: Put me down. Given their line of work and how fast rumors spread, I personally don't believe Jimin had any intention of leaving a lasting mark.

I'm not Jimin or Jungkook, so I can't positively say that I know what was going on inside of their heads when this entire situation happened. I can only really go off what they personally said happened.

But anyway, this situation has certainly gone down in history as one of the most jaw-droppingly hilarious Bangtan moments.

#ask #jikook #kookmin #this situation is so fucking funny lmao #i just want to know what their reaction was when that bruise popped up #perhaps it was a silent 'oh fuck'#they get dating rumors for just standing next to other ppl so i can sort of see why the company would want this to be explained

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torque-witch · 2 years

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This, for example, is also part of what people don’t understand. This is a great DoorDash order, and I get these pretty frequently because there’s like one big central place to order food and lots of richer neighborhoods far away.

But you’ll notice, I’m not even close to the restaurant, because there are less and less of us driving. It took me like 8 minutes just to get to the restaurant from where I was at the time. If there’s no one accepting that order or everyone’s busy, your driver may not be nearby and that could mean your food won’t be piping hot. Papa John’s is always A+ on that end, but I digress. Most restaurants don’t use a hot shelf for delivery orders.

I got offered the same amount of money as above to drive 20. TWENTY MILES. And I declined it because it was clear the customer didn’t tip. I’ve gotten a cash tip I think at the most 10 times out of 1000. It’s not common. Not worth it. That delivery would eat up an entire hour when I could make the same in 35 minutes.

I know it doesn’t really affect anyone but someone really needs to tell the general population that delivery drivers are also not Amazon. And we are also short staffed because people a) literally can’t afford to and b) are being offered 2.50 base pay if there are no extras. So your McDonald’s 4 miles away if you don’t tip is offered as 3.50.

I get high offers because I played the system and got my acceptance rate up. But most people don’t have the patience for that and are literally running multiple apps at the same time to make ends meet. If you as a customer want a better experience, we as the drivers actually need to be paid fairly across the board (without tip). It shouldn’t be a merit system of who licks the boot the hardest.

Pro tip: the picture on the right was 10 miles one way to a 400k housing development. I checked. Customers suck too. And it’s mostly rich people.

#torquetalks #DoorDash problems

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sallysgrancanwrite · 1 year

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Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chloe woke up and didn’t hurt as bad as she thought she would. However when she moved her body it screamed in pain. A hot shower would loosen her up. Wait, first some yoga then the shower. She did about 30 minutes of yoga and then got in the shower. She scrubbed her face real good because she was getting a facial done in a little bit here and wanted it clean. She’ll use a cleanser on it when she gets out too. She had just finished dressing and brushing out her hair when Edith and Beth got home. She went downstairs to grab a bagel and juice.

“So my helpful little elves, how are things going this morning?” Chloe smirked.

“I actually think we are ready, the big question is are you and Michael?” Edith asked.

“We’re ready,” said Chloe, “no problem.”

She seemed to have gotten over her nerves. She walked a bit goofy because she hurt but that’s expected. Edith suggested she go shoeless so it wouldn’t put a strain on her back but Chloe insisted on wearing the shoes.

They went with an intimate wedding, very small and it would be in the evening as a candle light service. It meant they both only had one person standing up for them. Chloe had Beth and Michael had his brother Charles.

Charles wasn’t much of a talker. Which was freaky because he would just stare at you. All she knew was he worked in the mines like his dad did. Oh. And he liked to stare at people, but I digress.

At 10 AM the ladies all met at LuLu’s to get their hair and make up done. On their way in they ran into Michael.

“Michael you aren’t supposed to see her before the weddin’!” said Beth, “Git going.” she said.

“I have something for her first,” he said as he handed it to Chloe. ”Open it now honey.”

Chloe took the box and unwrapped the ribbon and then the paper. Inside was a blue velvet box and a beautiful diamond bracelet.

“Michael, it’s beautiful!” She hugged him. “Thank you. Now wait I’ll go get my gift.”

She ran to the car and got her gift and secretly thought it was not good enough after seeing his gift to her. She handed him a small wooden box. He opened it to see to beautiful gold cuff links with his initials on them.

“It’s not as extravagant as yours was, I’m sorry.” She hung her head and a tear trickled down her cheek.

He lifted her head and hugged her.

“Are you kidding, anything from you is awesome and I think they’re gorgeous. I’ll look great today with them on. No more tears unless they are happy tears.” He hugged her once more.

“I better get going,” she said. “I’ll see you later. I love you.”

She went back in and they all wanted to see what he got her. They were struck by how sparkly it was.

“Have to give the man credit, he knows jewelry.” Beth said.

LuLu got started on their hair. She washed it put it under the dryer and they all sat and did what ladies do best, gossip. Edith’s dryer went off first and she just had her normal curl and comb out. What she called her old lady doo. Then she started on Beth. She like big curly hair. Beth never left the 80’s.

“Going with the big hair today Beth?” LuLu asked.

“Yes ma’am. You know how I like it, real curly and full.”

“One 80’s doo coming right up.” Everyone laughed.

Chloe sat watching them and she went back to her mother and daddy again. She missed them so much. She wasn’t even listening to them anymore and soon a tear slipped from her eye. Mom would love this day.

“It’s your turn honey. Chloe?” Beth said.

All of a sudden she snapped back to reality.

“Yeah, what? I’m sorry. I’m coming.” She said.

“We’re you dreaming about the honeymoon?” Beth teased “Hey why the tears?”

“Just missing momma and daddy. I’m fine.” Chloe said.

“They would be so proud of the young lady you have become,” said Edith. “We are.”

“So how should we do yours? Up or down?” LuLu asked.

“Definitely up,” said Chloe. “Like up with curls on top and hair hanging down around my face a bit and my neck too. Yes that’s what I want. My veil goes over my head but it has a small piece that clips into the back. Beth can you grab my veil?” Chloe asked.

LuLu looked at it and said

“I know how to do your hair and put the veil on. We’ll put it on right away.”

So she set about using hot rollers and curling irons to get big and small curls. She the gently put a pile of curls on top of her head after having rated the hair underneath a bit. She pinned the curls real tight then took the curling iron and took strings of left out hair and curled those around her face and around her neck. She looked at it, touched it up a bit and put a ton of hairspray on. She turned Chloe to the mirror.

“Okay, what do you think?” LuLu asked.

“Oh I love it. It’s beautiful. Let’s see what the veil looks like with it.“

LuLu got the veil and carefully pinned it in the back and they all stood back and looked.

“Wow,” said Beth, “It looks fabulous. We better get the makeup going now. Or we’ll be late. We have two hours.”

They all got their makeup done, Chloe wore more than she usually did but she liked it, and then they ran home to dress. Bob was pacing on the porch when they pulled up.

“It’s getting a bit close ladies. Did you have to regrow hair or what?”

“You just don’t understand honey what it takes to look this good.” She kissed him

“Evidently I don’t.” He mumbled.

The girls ran upstairs and Edith and Beth got dresses first so they could help Chloe, who was going to the bathroom before she out this dress on and couldn’t go the rest of the day.

“Chloe, we’re here to help you.” Edith said.

“Coming,” said Chloe. “Let me get my nylons on first. Ok, ready,” she said as she beat over with her arms stretched out so they could slip it over her head. When they looked at it they realized Chloe had lost weight and it was too big now.

“Beth,” said Edith, “run and Glenda and bring her and the seamstress, quickly.”

Beth ran as fast as she could and tore out of the driveway to hurry and get to the dress shop. They were just closing. Beth beat on the door.

Glenda came over.

“Oh Beth, what’s wrong?”

“Chloe, Beth said panicked, her dress is too big. Can you help please?”

“Sure, give me the address and we’ll come right away.”

Beth got back to the house at the same time Glenda got there. Beth sure hoped they could sew fast.

#original fiction #original story #writeblr

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soulrph · 1 year

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hiii i'm new ( in a way ) to twitters rpc and idk how to ,,, exist here ??? like ,,, idk hiw to explain it 😭

hi my angel! do you mean twitter or tumblr? because i have exactly zero experience with twitter, but i'm also gonna be presumptuous as hell and assume it's tumblr! so here we go! i'm going to add a list of terms and definitions below the cut, so bear with me, and i may do a part 2 of this bc like. lads. ladies. legends. the tumblr rpc is terrifying and complicated for new friends. it's still terrifying and complicated for everyone, really, but we just adjusted! i digress:

literally everyone you will ever meet on this site has been where you are. it's a daunting experience to try and exist on a new site, especially if you have limited experience or contact with friends on this site, too! i knew one person who helped me adjust to the site, and after that, i was on my own!

i spent my first six months figuring out rules, icons, and my bio page for my character. that seems like a long time, but i started my blog, recklessly, during my first year of college! it took six months to figure out what rules i wanted for myself. did i have any triggers or squicks? did i have any banned fandoms or characters? i explained my limited activity, i added my age, my alias, my timezone, and basic things like that, but most of my inspiration actually came from reading other people's rules pages!

whenever i followed new people, i made sure to read their rules page first. now, nobody is going to expect you to remember EVERY SINGLE RULES PAGE you ever read! that's crazy! you might read a hundred different lists of rules and more, and you're human, so you will forget things! but the rules pages often include an age limit lately. so, "don't follow if you're under eighteen/twenty one/twenty five/etc." is a popular thing, you absolutely HAVE to obey that, and if they add more requests, like "don't follow if you're part of X fandom, or if you use these face claims, or if you write this character", or "don't follow me if you write with these blogs". you do need to follow those, but here's the good news: you make that decision the minute you see the blog. you don't need to remember those rules further down the line, aside from the banned blogs, and then you just look back over some rules. but i firmly believe that nobody should be taking offence over people forgetting some of the rules they read. i have 300 mutuals on my blog; you think i'm gonna remember 300 rules pages??? not a hope!

now. once you follow someone, and they follow you back, you are mutuals. you are NOT mutuals if you follow them, and they don't follow back, or if you don't follow them, but they follow you! similarly, you are NOT obligated to follow absolutely everyone who follows you! follow the people you find interesting and who have good vibes! don't let the rules pages scare you away; many people use a different tone of language in their rules pages to express the seriousness of following the rules, but beyond the rules page, they're actually perfectly lovely!

now! for things like icons and graphics? you don't actually need them. you don't need a promo, really, either. fortunately for us all, tumblr is entering an era where icons are just like, a nice extra bit. they don't really do anything. they're just pretty pictures of our characters to add a little something to our replies in threads. (again, my beloved, these definitions will be below the readmore thing, so don't stress yourself over the definitions!)

and now for the actual roleplay bit! so on this blog, and many other meme source blogs, we provide short and long lists of writing prompts for the rpc and writers to inspire some threads or passages of writing. in addition to this, there are starter calls! they're very useful, you just make a little post that says "like this post and i'll tag you in a starter!" and then if someone likes the post, you can write them a little starting point for a thread. so, my other blog will be used as an example: if @soulprompts liked a starter call, i would write them a little thing (it can be a one-liner or a paragraph or however long you like!) and tag them by using the @ button, and then their url. so in this case, my url is soulmemes, their url is soulprompts, so it's @soulprompts . like that! then they reply, and i reply, and the resulting series of replies will be called a thread!

now! my final addition here, before this post gets too long, is this: many people use features known as @xkit-extension-blog and @new-xkit-extension to adjust their experiences of the dash. you should download both of them, and you should download "EDITABLE REBLOGS" on the normal xkit, and "MUTUAL CHECKER" on the new xkit. it's very easy to do that! these just make it easier to trim your threads and to see who's following you back, respectively. i can add another post if you want me to, my angel, this is very rushed and i'm worried it's too much information at once!

GLOSSARY!

RULES PAGE: a page where you keep your rules for your blog! many people use google docs for this, and add a link to a pinned post at the top of their blog for ease of use. these rules are variable and depend on your preferences! they should include an age, an alias, maybe some pronouns, and any off-limits content. so "i don't want to write angst", or "don't interact with me if you write any characters from this fandom" or something like that. honestly, if you read other rules pages, they're very very useful in terms of guidance to making your own page!

BIO PAGE: a page where you provide information about your character! if your character is an original character, i.e. your own creation, not found in any public lore, then you need to provide information so people can educate themselves about your character! it doesn't need to be overly long; you can list the important things and add to it as you go along!

VERSES: so most, if not all characters have different verses. so if you take shrek as an example, some verses for shrek could be "before the first shrek movie" or "during the first shrek movie" and so on, so forth. many people get very creative with these, so you could have your character enter new fandoms! so, to keep using shrek as an example, shrek might have a marvel verse, where he's a mutant who turns down an offer to work with professor xavier and proceeds to tend to an onion farm in his swamp while more mutants turn to him for help. it can be wild and wacky or it can be serious, it doesn't matter, once you like the verses!

MUSE/MUN: you are a mun! a mun is the person behind the blog, the real life person who turns on their computer and logs into tumblr. i am also a mun! your muse is your character! so in this example, my muse is hypothetically shrek. some people write on multi-muse blogs, where they write more than one muse!

ORIGINAL CHARACTER/CANON CHARACTER: canon characters are characters who are established in publicly available lore. like shrek! shrek and fiona are canon characters! but if i decided to write another muse in the morning, shrek's sister, re-shrek-a, then she's considered an original character, because she is not established in the public lore of shrek. she is made up entirely by me, so she's my original creation, hence an original character, or OC.

ICONS/PROMOS/BANNERS/GRAPHICS: basically some people are insanely talented at photoshop and whatnot, and they make little images of their character's face claim or some banners to title their posts with. icons can be any size at all! icons and other graphics aren't necessary, if you don't want to make them, that's fine! some people run commission blogs where you can give them money and they'll make you icons and banners and promo graphics for you, if that's more up your alley!

STARTERS/PLOTS/SHIPS: a starter is the starting point of a thread, a plot is something that takes place between you and your writing partner where you decide what will happen in a thread together, and a ship is a relationship between two muses; it can be platonic, romantic, enemies, anything at all! starter calls are posts you make where people like the post and you can make those people some starters. plotting calls are the same, but if someone likes the post, you can chat to them to discuss some plots together! shipping calls are the same, but instead of starters and plots, people who like the post are free to discuss the possibility of a ship with your muse!

MEMES/PROMPTS: finally, memes and prompts are the same thing. they're lists of writing prompts to inspire threads with new friends! i write a bunch of them here and on @soulpromptsts ! there are many meme blogs, however, such as @leneemusing and @ohisms and @nightprompts to name just a few!

#ooc.#long post tw #reply.#cinnanon roll.#( i'm suddenly nervous that i didn't answer ur question my darling )#( pls let me know if i misunderstood! )

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goldenshrine · 2 years

Text

quiero sentirte

javier drives mattie home after a party. ^_^

content warning: alcohol use, no apocalypse!au

word count: ~1.2k

“So we just running over every red light—cross sign—stop sign! Jesus Christ—”

“Wow, twenty minutes later—”

“Listen,” says Mattie, miserably. “I’m so tired.”

Javier takes great effort not crinkling his smile into something teasing. “We’re almost home,” he says. Then, murmuring, “There’s no one on the road anyway.”

Mattie slumps against the worn leather of their friend’s car seat with a noncommittal hum. They watch as rows of artificial stars mounted on high density polyethylene stretch across their vision, waning in the side mirror before disappearing into the night behind them. Late summer breathes warm on their cheeks and blows their hair into half-braids. As annoying as it’ll be, combing the little knots out, the wind on their face and moonlight in their lap are essential parts of the road trip experience. To ride in a vehicle with closed windows would be sacrilege.

“You have fun tonight?”

“Huh?”

“At the party,” Javier says, “y’know, did you have a good time?”

They burrow deeper into their headrest, thinking. Rare is it for the Garcías’ to host parties anymore, with Javier spending more and more time out of town and his parents getting older and older, buckling beneath the laundry of the world. The kids're getting older, too. Mariana reached double-digits and a random growth spurt last November had Gabriel looming over them—a crime of the most unforgivable nature, but they digress—what used to be a child marbled with dark and laughter now is a pubescent shadow haunting his shared bedroom. He’s taken in a fair share of laundry in his short fourteen years, that’s for sure.

It was the family’s first social event in over a year and planned pretty spontaneously, pitching the odd García's absence; even so, the house was bright and swollen with guests’ laughter. In the living room stood a foot-long resin folding table that fluttered under the weight of alcoholic and alcohol-free drinks alike, as well as an old radio brewing the coffee-sweet timbre of Celia Cruz. The bass reverberated in the pit of their stomach, shimmied up their esophagus to rattle their teeth. It didn’t seem to bother any of the guests, though. People sang and stumble-danced and tipped cerveza down their tired throats.

Mattie swirled their own beer around in their hand, crescent-tipped fingernails flexing rhythmically against the glass. The bottle was cold, a string of pearly condensation around its neck, and they swiped their thumb over one before taking another swig. They winced. Bitter.

“Manolo, hey, you know you don't have to drink that if you don’t want to, right?”

Brown eyes wrinkled mischievously under a riverbed of freckles as Javier approached, replacing their beer with some mixed drink. Mango-flavored—their favorite. Well, second favorite.

“Couldn’t find anything with coconut,” Javier told them.

“Actually, Javi,” said Mattie, “your dad gave that to me at knifepoint. Said he’d personally take me out if I didn’t drink it. So, y’know, don’t get upset when I splatter red all over your jersey.”

“That’s brutal. I got an invitation to the funeral?”

“Um, absolutely not.”

He laughed and went to take a sip of his beverage. Mattie watched his throat wax and ease before resuming their people watching. They caught a pair staggering obstinately about the room: hands clenched like their lives depended on it despite their feet bouncing independently from one another’s. One was tall and classically handsome with his hair, eyes, and pants stained licorice-black. The other was younger, sadder; her eyes bright and greener than freshwater. And, curiously, fixed on them. Oh. Did they get caught staring?

They were considering the most tactful marriage of penitence and affability when a sun-kissed hand stretched out of their peripheral vision. It took them a minute to register the sensation, another to understand the connection between it and the resolution painted on Javier’s face. They rolled their eyes.

“Javi, you play too much.”

“No, c’mon, I’m not playing,” he said, chuckling. “Dance with me.”

“I’m not even done with my drink yet!”

“It’s gonna take you all night to finish that.”

Mattie scoffed. “Okay, first of all, that’s not even true.”

“And secondly?”

“And secondly—” they scrunched their face up. “And secondly—the ’firstly's for dramatic emphasis, smartass.”

“You’re something else. Seriously. Mira, no te pongas así, just one song and you’re free to go. I promise.”

The shorter man grinned and drove their shoulder into his with an audible smack. “Dunno how I feel about making promises with a broke gambler,” they said.

“Least I had money to lose,” he hissed, recoiling to shake the pain out before returning their gesture twofold.

“Owww—”

“And I’m not—I’m not trying to be an asshole. It’s alright if you don’t feel like it. I just know you like to, so… but I get there’s a lot of people. I’m having just as much fun here, watching David and Kate tear up the dance floor.”

The clock burst into peals of joy then, hour and minute hand joining to applaud a newborn sky. It was mostly muffled by enduring partygoers and the güira’s scratch-scratch-scratch in whatever bachata track was currently blaring, but Mattie could hear it, celebrating itself. And they could hear themself, sucking air through teeth and drumming their back against the aged floral wallpaper, and they wondered what it’d be like to not feel so overly conscious of… well, everything, and nothing at the same time. That was something they really admired about Javier. Always moving, no matter what.

Whether it was admiration or the alcohol finally settling in their bloodstream, Mattie leapt up, snatching their friend’s hand and guiding them both into the low light. At his surprised twinkling, they giggled, “Yeah, alright, don’t say I never did nothing for you.”

Javier recovered swiftly; his fingertips trailing the small of their back as he pulled them chest to chest, close enough that their noses might’ve brushed if he wasn’t a head taller than them. They eased into a sway with inebriated grace, their hips rocking back and forth: two weights suspended from a ceiling fan-pivot. He beamed and God, it was like… like all these bits of matter stirring around, converging into some cosmic body of pure exuberance.

After a few songs, Mattie wiggled out of his grasp enough to gift him a yawn. Their gaze reeled toward the ceiling, a kind of okay, I’m done for the night, maybe forever type gesture, and they made to detangle themself completely when Javier all but yanked them back into the cotton of his shirt. His head lowered.

Then, a softness. A heat: blooming across their forehead. They breathed in audibly, a shivery, skittish sound.

And they thought of those toy kaleidoscopes, the little tubes with colored paper. That’s what the rest of the party had felt like. All fragmented colors and soft edges and Javier’s mouth on their skin.

“Did you have a good time?”

They glance at the moon, whose light blankets them indulgently in its lack of haste to move towards day. Their house is still a couple of blocks out; they don’t miss the languidness with which it draws near.

Comfortably, Mattie says, “Yeah. Yeah, it was fun.”

#my writing #✂️🍮 caramelo duro #i miss family parties i miss watching my tías and abuela dance :'(#also im so shy posting here anymore but i dont want to be q_q

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