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magicalyaku · 2 years

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I spent two very great weeks of vacation in Seoul (and Jeju) with my friends and am now begrudgingly home again. I still managed to squeeze in a bit of reading time. My TBR didn't get any shorter though, because of the 10 books I read, 8 were from the library and only one of those was on my reading list beforehand. Great!

Solange wir die Sterne sehen (Liam Erpenbach): This was kind of heavy. Both from the flowery writing style and the topic of a serious illness. But it was done well and really sweet. Next to the romance, there's also a great and very important platonic relationship which is something I'll always appreaciate.

Fence 1-4 (C.S. Pacat, Johanna The Mad): After the heavy read and with just a week to go before my vacation I didn't want to start anything I might not be able to finish or too difficult. So comics it was! I borrowed all the volumes my library had. (And I will be the first one to get it once they buy the fifth, hrhr!) A fun read!

A Far Wilder Magic (Allison Saft): Another month, another YA fantasy book I did not like! 8D And what a shame, because the cover is lovely and the blurb sounded so good, but I never got into the writing style and the world building. I just expected a real fantasy instead of a "just like our world but with alchemy" and a real hunting adventure and not a silly competition event where the only action is the five mile walk from the house into town and back. I liked that for once the girl was the mysterious and strong one while the boy was the noisy, easy-going type. But I was a little dispappointed that her strength was just a "I need to keep it together" and not "I'm proud of who I am" kind of strength. And also that sex scene on the beach? "There was sand everywhere but I didn't care." Well, I did care. Gross.

The Foxhole Court (Nora Sakavic): I fully admit that I've been brainwashed. I've seen this book before and was always uninterested because sports and that hideous cover. Then my tumblr radar flooded me with fanarts and quotes for three weeks and I cried "But the cover is so ugly!!" and then a certain person went and made pretty new dustjackets, which made me suffer thoroughly, and then my library said "Look, it's available right now!". I couldn't help it. The universe told me to read! D: And what can I say, I loved it. Maybe it's thanks to the fact that I read A Far Wilder Magic right before and loathed it, that I had a much easier time appreciating things done well in The Foxhole Court. (Skip if you don't want lengthy examples: In AFWM the author uses way too many pronouns for my taste. As in several paragraphs with no mention of the name. At one point it even was the heroine and her mother talking and it would have been easy to use the names of either woman as none was used in the sentences right before, yet it was "she" in one sentence referring to the mother and "she" in the next referring to the daughter. (I know that this can work but here I was just confused). I'm a writer myself and I struggle with writing scenes like that and my beta-reader told me I use too many pronouns, so I'm probably extra aware of such things in the books I read. It annoyed me to no end in AFWM. And then came TFC with four boys talking in the same scene and it just worked and I was a little amazed. Funnily enough, something similar happened back then with The Raven Cycle. I hated the book I read before, it was so boring and the characters were incrediby lame. I DNFed it and started The Raven Boys and within the first 50 or so pages I realised that even though it introduced like a million characters at once I already knew and liked every single one better than I did with 3 people after 200 pages of the former book. 8D (Needless to say that TRC is one of my favourite series)) Back to TFC! For once, there's a bunch of interesting characters! I mean, yes, they’re all weirdos and the violence and drugs are kinda a lot, buuuut ... Neil can handle himself. Also, the showdown was a duel of words! And nothing of what Tumblr teased me with happened so far (which to be honest makes it more fun), so I'm looking forward to the next volumes!

Keeper of the Lost Cities 1 (Shannon Messenger) (Audiobook): This one is so long, omg. I'm usually bad with audiobooks but I started listening on the flight home from Seoul. And then kept listening at home while rolling around on the floor wallowing in despair that my vacation is over (and probably jetlag). It's definitely a series starter book. So many small things happening one after each other and the one big thing in the end doesn't even get resolved. But it's cute and interesting enough or else I would not have made through 12 hours. The only thing I did not appreciate as much was the amount of suffering Sophie goes through. I do like my characters suffering a bit (never say no to a cute boy crying), but she's only 12 years old. No need to torture her that much. Also girl, what's with that "I'm glad he won't be my big brother"? You have no idea, what's good! D: Keep Fitz as big brother and Keefe as a boyfriend, if you ask me. (Apart from the fact that with 12 or 13 you really don't need a boyfriend at all.)

This Is Why They Hate Us (Aaron H. Aceves): I borrowed this one from the library after I tossed another book after 50 pages because I could not bear another YA heroine with secret magic powers. It's not like I hate 17-year-old girls, but as I said in the previous post I have no patience for them at the moment. The best friend in This is why they hate us? I wanted to choke her in the beginning! 8D "Oh Quique, your summer can't be good without a boyfriend!" "You're 17 and haven't kissed anyone yet?!" (not literal quotes) I hate reading stuff like that. Luckily, it got better later. There were a lot of different topics crammed into and I'm not sure if it did justice to all of them, but in the end I think it was a decent story about finding oneself. After the bumpy start I decided to mainly read it as "life experience" (as in I'll never be a 17-year-old boy so reading about them makes me believe I can write about them better), but as it went on I actually came to like it.

Wo Träume schlafen gehen (Marta Kubis): This one was hard. From the blurb I thought I'd love it. 12-year-old girl, her big brother, an airship and an adventure? Sign me up! It's also pretty short with 200 pages yet I still got bored in the middle and once again neither liked the writing style nor the heroine ...

On a final note, due to ... things happening, I started watching Yuri on Ice for the first time ever. Between that and the other All for the Game books I think, my October will be fun! uAu~

#yaku reads #september wrap up #books #queer books #lgbtq books #queer lit #booklr #ya books #solange wir die sterne sehen #a far wilder magic #the foxhole court #all for the game #fence #wo träume schlafen gehen #this is why they hate us

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ssa-babygirl · 4 years

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Out of My League [Part 1]

Pairing: High school!Spencer Reid x Popular!Reader

Word count: 3.7k (god i don’t shut up do i)

Summary: Spencer begins tutoring you in chemistry, and the two of you bond (I would say no pun intended but fuck it that was GOOD so I’ll say pun intended)

Warning(s): Mentions of bullying, mental illness, some swearing, I made one joke about herpes??? sorry if thats a sore spot with anyone, light angst and pining, Reader POV

Author’s Note: Here it is, folks!! The first official part! I’ so grateful for all the feedback I got on the prologue, I’m glad y’all are liking it, I hope you like this part just as much!! Next part I’m gonna have some baby spencer, and by that I mean whole ass adult spencer that just looks baby

[Previous Part] [Series Masterlist]

You absolutely despised chemistry. It’s boring. It’s simultaneously stupid and ridiculously complicated. You weren’t dumb, you were a decent student in all your other classes, but science was never your strong suit. You preferred literature over litmus paper any day. Unfortunately, your failing grade was bringing down your entire GPA, just below the requirement for you to stay on the cheerleading squad. Your coach recommended you get a tutor, or else you were off the team. So you went to the library to see the peer tutoring program, and all of them were booked. The next best thing would be the kid genius in your class. He was probably a better first choice, honestly, but you figured he’d be booked with other students too.

He wasn’t like other kids in your class, not just because he actually cared and was a good student, he was also twelve years old. The kid was a prodigy. He was bullied a lot because of this because no one really understood him. That’s probably why he looked so terrified when you approached him after class one day.

“Hey, Spencer!”

His eyes grew wide as he stared back at you, saying nothing.

“I was just wondering if you were available for tutoring?”

“Oh, uh, um, y-yeah, in chemistry?”

“Yeah, what are your rates like? Like say we do an hour every other day, how much would that be?”

“Oh! N-no charge.”

“Really?”

“The first couple of sessions can be a trial run, I don’t want your money if you’re not benefiting from it.”

That made you smile, this kid was so nice and you just wished that people actually cared about that instead of the dumb shit they bullied him for. Sure, he was skinny and short and dorky and you know, a literal twelve-year-old boy, but if someone would take time to know him, they’d see he’s a good kid.

“That’s sweet of you, but I don’t wanna waste your time if you have other students.”

“I don’t, so that shouldn’t be a problem.”

“Great! Are you free after school today?”

He nodded and avoided all eye contact before scurrying out of the room to his next class.

~~~

You met up later in the library. You greeted each other politely with simple hi’s and hey’s and nothing more. Then it was time to pour over your books for an hour and try to force the puzzle pieces into place and hope something finally clicked. Balancing molecular equations physically hurt. Just when you thought you got it all right, Spencer reminded you that you still had to balance the oxygen, which was always bonded with something else, which threw off the whole equation. Every time you made a mistake you just let out a groan and set your head on the table.

“It’s a lot of math, a lot of people have a hard time with it, don’t feel bad.”

“I’m so fucking stupid.”

“You’re not! It’s an easy mistake.”

“You don’t make mistakes like that.”

“That’s because I’ve been taking advanced math classes for the past two years, I’m good at this stuff.”

“You’re good at everything, you're a literal genius.”

“There are people who aren’t geniuses who are good at this sort of thing, just look at Johnny Abrams in our class. He answers every question Mrs. Gustin asks and I once saw him put his backpack on his car’s roof and start driving ‘cuz he forgot it was there. He’s just been practicing. That’s why we’re here, right?”

He always reassured you. Always told you that you weren’t stupid. You weren’t dumb. He always smiled when you got questions right and told you you were doing a good job. When your hour was up, you said goodbye and went home.

Spencer’s mini lectures aside, most of your sessions were sparse in the conversation department. The first time he went off on a side about some chemistry facts, you couldn’t keep up. You just sat there, jaw hanging while he went into detail about saponification, which wasn’t even in this lesson.

“Sorry, I’m rambling.”

“Did we learn that in class? Cuz if we did, I’m screwed.”

“No, not yet at least.”

“How do you just… know that?”

Spencer avoided your eyes once again, something he did more than spouting random facts, “I read a lot.”

That’s how it happened the first time. All it took was you asking one question about different types of reactions for him to launch into another spiel. You figured you’d have to know it at some point, so you started writing down whatever you could catch from his fast-paced speech, taking notes in bullet points.

“And that-- Oh. Y-You don’t need to do that, that’s not even on the curriculum.”

“Well, I gotta keep up with you somehow, right?” You glanced up from your page and flashed an almost challenging smirk as you saw him stifle a smile as he avoided all eye contact with you, as per usual. He then cleared his throat and got back to the actually assigned chapter.

The more he went off on tangents, the more he realized you weren’t stopping him. He was actually able to make chemistry sound interesting to you, which is strange, but it was easier to understand through how he explained it all. Something told you that he wasn’t used to having someone listen to what he said, because he just lit up when he talked about this stuff. He was clearly passionate about it, so why would you make him feel bad about it? He always apologized, but you always reassured him it was no big deal.

You didn’t know it at the time, but the kid was falling hard. This pretty, older girl was paying attention to him and didn’t think he was annoying? The bar may have been on the floor for young Spencer, but you were perfect to him. Eventually, he was able to look you in the eyes when you spoke to one another, he even smiled at you when you joked with him. That was another thing: you joked with one another now. You both warmed up to one another as your sessions continued. You said hi to each other in the hallways, you ruffled his hair as a greeting, he accepted your high-five requests every time you got something right.

You still didn’t talk outside of class much, which is why he was caught so far off guard by you calling his name from across the cafeteria as you approached his table.

“Hey, dude! Is it cool if we squeeze in an extra session today? I got a test tomorrow.”

“Y-Yeah, no problem, but, uh, it’s Thursday. Don’t you have practice after school?”

You did. And you had to be there because you had a competition this weekend.

“Yeah, I was wondering if we could meet after?”

“When does it end?”

“Five.”

“Library closes at four.”

“I know, but would it be too much of a hassle if I just… Pick you up tonight and we head back to my house to study?”

You could physically see his brain shut down in his eyes. After he realized he needed to respond, he picked his jaw up off the floor and gulped hard.

“Or you can stay after and hang out at practice and I can just drive you home?”

“Y-Yeah, um, yeah, tha-that works, I can, uh, yeah, we can do that.”

Spencer brought his books and homework and tried his hardest to not make it obvious he was staring at you while you danced. You looked like you were having so much fun and he loved seeing you happy and smiling with your friends like that, it was hard for him to look away and focus long enough to read a sentence, which is saying something, considering it does not take him long to read a sentence.

After practice wrapped up, you told him to go wait by your car while you changed out of your uniform. The girls in the locker room were talking just as loudly as always, only this time, it was about something you actually cared about hearing.

“I mean, really, what was that little creep doing watching us today?” You heard one girl sneer.

“So fucking gross, I don’t wanna know where his prepubescent head was.” Another girl laughed.

You had to step in. You had to say something.

“I’m his ride home. He’s my chemistry tutor and I have a test tomorrow, so back off the kid, he didn’t do shit to you anyway.”

The squad learned to watch their mouths around you after that.

~~~

The neon glow of the golden arches shone through your car’s windows as you pulled into the McDonald’s drive-thru line.

“This isn’t your house,” noted Spencer, sounding confused.

You grinned, “Oh, shit… no way! Wow! I’m so glad my tutor is a genius! I would have never guessed this was not my family home!”

He let himself laugh for a moment, “Okay, okay, fine. Why are we here?”

“Uh… to get food? Duh.”

“But what about your food at home?”

“My mom’s visiting my dad, he works in D.C., and I haven’t gotten a chance to go grocery shopping this week, so I can’t cook for you. What do you want?”

“You don’t have to get me anything.”

“No, I insist, it’s almost dinner time. Lemme get you something. As a thank you for squeezing in an extra cramming sesh?”

“It’s fine! Really.”

“Hey, Reid, come on,” you attempt to stifle a stupid giggle as you gesture to the rather large window displaying the playroom inside, “you are a guest in my home!”

Spencer shakes his head and chuckles, but doesn’t dare let you think he found you funny, “I’ll have chicken nuggets.”

“Happy meal?”

He tried to look offended at your clarification, but he quickly dropped the facade, “Yes. Extra fries, please.”

“Of course, buddy.” You pulled up further to the ordering station, catching a glimpse at the menu and the ads they had displayed on it, “Oh no way! They have Strawberry Shortcake toys! I used to collect those when I was a kid!”

Spencer saw the look on your face and couldn’t help but smile at your childlike excitement, “Do you want my happy meal toy?”

You bit your lip and hesitated before throwing all shame to the wind and saying yes. Because it was Spencer. He got excited over chemistry, he had no right to judge you on your old Strawberry Shortcake doll collection.

After you got your food, you drove back to your house, and you ate together at your kitchen island while Spencer quizzed you on the last chapter. He had asked you eighteen questions so far, and you had answered all of them correctly.

“Okay, this last one is for the Strawberry Shortcake--”

“Her name is Orange Blossom.”

“Whatever, this last one is for the Orange Blossom toy: Which type of reaction is represented by this equation?” He showed you his notebook where he had written a molecular equation.

“Substitution.”

“Correct! Now balance it.”

Your shoulders slouched as the pride drained from your body.

“Please don’t make me.”

“This is going to be on the test, Y/N, you have to know it.”

“What’s one wrong question, really?”

“You and I both know she’s not going to put just one balancing question on the test.”

“Fine.” You grumbled, grabbing a pencil and sliding his notebook closer to you. You worked it out after a few minutes, but everything looked right, and judging by Spencer’s proud grin, everything was.

He reached for the figurine, still in the plastic bag, and handed it to you, “You’re gonna do great tomorrow, Y/N.”

You took Orange Blossom from his hands and danced around the kitchen with it, overwhelmed with the sudden feeling of confidence you gained from nailing this practice session. You heard Spencer’s small laugh from behind you, causing you to turn around and face the boy as he lovingly mocked you.

Studying at your place became a regular thing after that, even when your mom was home. She loved him. She always invited him for dinner if she was home. He rarely took her up on the offer, but it was nice having him around the house with you. Study sessions turned into just plain hanging out. You spent more time bonding over Doctor Who than chemistry some nights, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

~~~

When Alexa Lisben invited him to meet her at the football field you were skeptical. You had good reason to be. She was never very nice to you or Spencer. You were able to be civil with her for the sake of the cheerleading squad, but something about her just didn’t sit right with you. You tried to warn him, but he wouldn’t listen. He seemed offended at the notion that Alexa would do something horrible to him. How dare you imply that the only reason someone would be interested in him would be to pull a fucked up prank?

“I’m not like you, Y/N, I don’t have a line of people waiting around for a date, no one’s ever had a crush on me before, and-and now that someone other than you is being nice to me, you’re telling me that they have some sort of ulterior motive?”

“Spencer. I know these girls, I’ve seen the guys they go for--”

“And I’m not like them?”

“No! You’re a sweet kid, you’re nothing like those guys and they’re gonna take advantage of that.”

“I really wish everyone would stop saying I’m just a kid!”

“You’re not! That came out wrong--”

“Listen, Y/N, I’m going whether you want me to or not, so if you really want to keep babying me, by all means, stay after and wait with me.”

“I don’t wanna baby you!”

“So stop it!”

You didn’t want to fight with him anymore, you weren’t his mother. “Ok, Spencer, fine. I’m sorry. You should go. How about you meet me in the library after and you can tell me all about it over McDonald’s? My treat.”

He warmed up and agreed.

So you waited in the library until four, and then you started to get worried. You went to grab something from your gym locker before you left to look for him and heard some girls from the squad gossiping about “the little dork.” Your blood started to boil as you heard the way they talked about Spencer. Your jaw only clenched harder as you recognized one of the girls’ voices as Alexa Lisben’s.

You poked your head around the lockers that divided the aisles and tried to manage a calm voice, “Hey Alexa? Spencer actually said he was meeting up with you today, do you know where he is?”

She just laughed and said, “I can’t believe you actually care about that loser.”

“He’s my friend.” All attempts to remain level-headed were tossed aside, “Where the fuck is he, what did you do to him?”

You could feel yourself starting to cry. It’s your fault, you weren’t there, you tried to warn him, but now you don’t know where he is or what he’s thinking or--

“Check the field.”

You sprinted out to the football field and saw him stripped down to his briefs, blindfolded, and tied to a goal post. You could kill Alexa. You actually considered turning right around and unleashing hell on that locker room, but your friend needed help. He was crying so hard he didn’t hear you coming until you called his name. You immediately went to untie him and grab his clothes from the fence beside him.

“You were right.” He sniffled, “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, I’m not mad, I’m sorry, I should have been there, I could have helped you--”

“No, you couldn’t. There were too many people.”

“How many were there? Who did this?”

“Y/N, please--”

“No, Spencer, tell me what happened.”

“I don’t wanna talk about it!”

You know when to stop, so you just shut your mouth while he got dressed, “Get in the car, I’m taking you home.”

You didn’t say a word to him as he buckled his seatbelt and you could tell he appreciated it. You just drove to McDonald’s and got him his usual. You parked in the parking lot and ate your food in almost silence, save for the radio in the background.

“You don’t have to tell me what exactly happened, you could pretend none of this ever happened, I won’t mind, it’s okay, but I just need you to know, Spencer, say the word and she’s dead. I have so much dirt on her, you have no idea, I can destroy her.”

“Don’t.”

“Okay, I won’t. At least give me names. I will personally make sure none of those boys ever get a date again.”

“Y/N, please.”

“I’m serious, I’ll tell everyone they have herpes.”

“I know you are and that’s what scares me, please don’t, I don’t wanna make things worse.”

You decide to drop it because if he doesn’t wanna talk about it, he needs a distraction.

After you finish your food, you ask him “Your house or mine?”

“Yours. Please.”

You drove back to your house and got yourselves set up on the couch in front of the TV, turning on an episode of Doctor Who that you had recorded. You made him popcorn as he curled up on your couch, clutching a pillow. You were mostly quiet for the rest of the night, but when you did talk, it was to ask him a question about the show or if any of the science was accurate. It was the best you could do to keep him mind off things. Eventually, he fell asleep and you felt too bad to wake him. He got up by himself around midnight, jolting awake as if from a nightmare, and considering how the last few hours had been for him, it probably was one.

“Hey, bud, I’m here, it’s me.” You didn’t touch him, knowing he got overstimulated sometimes when he got really stressed, but he felt around for you on the couch next to him, needing to know you were really there this time. You patted his hand when it reached across the cushion for you.

“What time is it?”

“Way too late for you to be here, let’s get you home.”

He nodded, slowly rising to his feet and looking for his backpack, which you reminded him he had left in the car. Your hand hovered above his head for a moment before he lazily drifted into you as he walked. You took this as an okay to touch him, so you ruffled his hair before loosely slinging an arm around his shoulders as you guided him to your car.

The drive back to Spencer’s wasn’t too long, thankfully, because you were sure his parents would be furious with him and the kid’s been through enough today. You wanted to take all the heat without making them think you kidnapped him. The lights were still on when you pulled into the driveway. They were probably worried sick about him.

When you knocked on the door, a frantic woman with short blonde hair opened it. When she saw Spencer, she grabbed him by the wrist and pulled him into the house, never breaking eye contact with you.

“Who are you? What are you doing with my son?”

“He didn’t do anything wrong, Mrs. Reid. I’m Y/N, he’s been tutoring me.”

“How do you know me? Spencer, what did you tell her?” She looked at him and back at you, “Get off my property and stay away from us!”

“Mom, she’s a fr--”

“Go up to your room, don’t come out.” She didn’t sound like an angry parent reprimanding her son, she sounded almost... scared.

A million alarms were going off in your head, and you needed to try to get through to her, “Ma’am, I’m sorry, he was helping me study and we lost track of time, it’s not his fault.”

“I don’t care, I don’t know you, get off my property!”

You decided it was best not to argue, so you hurried back to your car and drove home as quickly as possible so you could shower and go to bed and pray that Spencer would be okay tonight.

~~~

Your phone rang early the next morning. You rolled out of bed to answer it, sprinting to the hall table to take it off the stand. Checking the caller ID, you realized it was from a number you didn’t recognize. Answering it, you heard Spencer’s voice on the other side.

“Hello, this is Spencer, is Y/N home?”

“Yes, you woke me up on a Saturday morning, where else am I gonna be, kid?” Your voice was scratchy as you struggled to fight off the sleep still clawing at your throat.

“Sorry about that. I was just calling to apologize for last night.”

“No, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to get you in trouble.”

“N-No, I’m not in trouble, I just wanted to explain why my mother was all--”

“She was worried, I get it.”

“N- she… My mother is a paranoid schizophrenic, she doesn’t do well with strangers. She doesn’t even remember what she said to you last night, she was having one of her episodes. She was just confused.”

You didn’t know how to respond. You were so shocked by his sudden revelations, you just stayed silent. You didn’t want him to think he scared you, so you had to say something. And apparently, that something was “Oh.”

“She wanted to apologize, but she’s just a bit embarrassed, so I called for her.”

“N-No, it’s okay, I…” It was suddenly so hard to say you understood because while it made sense to you, you wouldn’t fully understand what he or his mom was going through, you didn’t understand it, but Spencer didn’t seem to mind. He was just glad it didn’t bother you. After the events of yesterday, he couldn’t afford to lose you.

“Tell her I’m sorry I scared her.”

“Will do. She said you could come over so she could apologize personally and meet her if you want.”

“I’d love to. And Spence?”

You felt him take pause. You never called him that before, “Yeah?”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t wanna scare you.”

“You wouldn’t scare me, dude, you can tell me anything.”

“Really?”

“I promise. I’ll see you Monday?”

Spencer nodded, but you couldn’t see him, so he spoke up through the lump in his throat, “See you Monday.”

Taglist ~~~~~~

(Lmk if you wanna be added!!)

@lawnmoa @ellvswriting @reidsmyhusband-emilysmymistress @baby-pogue @rottenearly

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #mgg #mgg fanfiction #mgg x reader #mgg smut #matthew gray gubler #matthew gray gubler fanfiction #matthew gray gubler x reader #matthew gray gubler imagine #criminal minds #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fanfiction #cm #cm fan fiction #cm imagine

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mehbzz · 3 years

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FFXV A/B/O au 18+ includes fingering, yandere, controlling behaviour, alludes to forced breeding, depression, mentions of self harm, low self esteem/weight issues. F!reader/Ignis/Gladio

So this was going to be a pretty dark forced breeding kinda fic but my mood changed and it ended up being half the beginning of a forced breeding fic and half depressed reader suffering from a depressive episode. The change in my mood is very noticeable half way though and probably a little jarring so we shall pretend that the second half happens a month or two after the first half, when the topic of kids has been soothed over and temporarily forgotten! No proofreading, no beta.

EDIT- Just correcting a typo that was annoying me!

“….having children.”

“What??” You’d been spacing out, a mixture of the Eos version of antidepressants you were taking and the fact that this meeting with King Regis was more than a little boring. Or had been at least. The end of Regis’ sentence shocks you back into reality abruptly.

Ignis shushes you quietly and you look at him aghast, but he ignores you, focusing on the King.

“Apologies Your Majesty.” Regis briefly glances at you then back to Ignis, “She is your mate? Bonded?” “Yes Your Majesty, myself and Gladiolus.”

Regis looks back at you “And the nature of your relationship with my son is….?”

Ignis answers before you can, “She is companion to all pack members.”

“Can she speak for herself?” Your gaze flicks to Ignis and he nods. “Yes Your Majesty I can.” You feel foolish and more than a little embarrassed as your voice echoes in the hall.

“Your pack keeps you close, understandably so, although I have heard you do not have much freedom?” The King watches you, waiting for a reply you think but you’re not sure what to say. “She’s very quiet isn’t she?” It feels like a jab, and you look at Ignis for direction who looks uncomfortable. He shakes his head minutely so you bite your tongue. Regis sighs and you feel a little like you just missed an opportunity.

“I believe that as Pack Alpha and as The Prince of Lucis Noctis should have first breeding rights.”

Ignis freezes and you bite your tongue so hard you taste blood. Breeding rights?? “I am unsure if that is something Noctis –“

“It doesn't matter,” The King interrupts with a wave of his hand. “I let my son live as independently as possible, and have allowed him to start his own pack but having an omega is an opportunity to continue the Caelum line. An opportunity we may not see again and one that should not be denied.”

You feel incredibly taken off guard with this whole conversation. “You cannot be – “

Ignis grabs your hand and silences you with a tight squeeze of your fingers. You must be dreaming right? This is not truly happening. The floor feels like its tilting beneath you and you have to look down at your feet to make sure it’s not.

“I will let you discuss it with Noctis and within your pack but I hope you will not forget my opinion or interest in this matter.” Regis gazes at you for a few seconds. “Apologise to Noctis on my behalf, I will not be able to make our dinner this evening.”

Ignis bows and you reluctantly do the same. You feel dazed. Ignis tight grip on your hand doesn’t let up as you leave the throne room. He keeps giving you concerned glances out the corner of his eye as you walk back to your quarters, but it takes you until you’re walking down the corridor to your room that you shake yourself out of your stunned stupor enough to say anything.

“Did we just negotiate over which one of you gets to knock me up?” You ask incredulous. He doesn’t answer you but he frowns at your choice of words.

“Ignis, you – please tell me I just hallucinated that whole meeting.”

He sighs “we will need to discuss it.”

“You are not serious. The answer is no!” “It's an omegas role.” He snaps and you flinch, not used to Ignis’ anger.

“My apologies. If the King has taken an interest we will need to discuss it.” he repeats.

“He cant make me have children.”

Ignis hesitates barely a fraction of a second but it’s enough to send a pulse of terror through you that he immediately picks up on. he stops, turning towards you and cradling your face in his hands. “I nor the rest of your pack would force you into anything you didn’t want love.” He lets you go and takes your hands again. “However it is the future of the royal bloodline, it will be something we need to talk about seriously in the future, whether we want to or not.” “We do not! I don’t want kids Ignis!” He flinches and something dark flickers across his face as he looks at you. It’s gone before you can interpret it as he turns away, pulling you after him as he continues walking.

You feel tired. “I thought I was your mate,” you say sullenly “not Noctis’.” “You are, unfortunately it’s more complicated than that.” You think you should be more upset by this than you currently feel. The medication you were on was new and felt a lot stronger than the antidepressants you had been taking back home. It left you feeling a little more numb and placid than you think you would have been otherwise.

He stops outside your room and pulls you into a kiss. Moaning softly when you immediately respond. He’s purring, trying to comfort you and you give in to the calm emotions it provokes, not wanting to feel the disorientated confusion anymore.

He leans closer, pushing you into the wall and his hand tugs up your dress until your thighs are bare. “You did well talking to the King, I was proud of you.” His praise makes you shiver. You thought Gladio was the one with the high sex drive but as his fingers stroke up your thighs you think Ignis is just as bad. Although a little more polite and less aggressive about it perhaps.

You're both quiet as his fingers slip between your thighs and he rubs softly at your clit. He presses harder and increases his pace at your gentle sigh and you turn to bury your face into his neck as the pleasure builds. You’re panting into his neck and he has his face buried in your hair, you’re not sure why you feel like you have to be quiet but you do your best to hold back your moans. He’s saying nothing, breathing hard he slips his hand up, pressing onto your abdomen before dipping into your panties and sliding a gloved finger inside of you. He gives you no time to adjust before he starts fucking you, like he’s desperate to make you cum. His palm grinds against your clit as he adds another finger, your orgasm is building fast, and as he continues his ruthless pace you feel another kind of pressure building slowly low in your stomach. It makes you gasp out his name in mild alarm, “Sl-slow down, I’m gonna pee!” He nuzzles against your ear, his purr increasing in volume. “No you’re not love, just relax,” he nips at your ear, “Let go for me.” He curls his fingers, stroking your walls quickly in just the right way to have your back arching. It’s a quick hard orgasm that takes you by surprise and has your whole body jerking and shaking as you ride out the aftershocks, biting into his shoulder as you try to control your twitching muscles. He seems a little disappointed but he’s still purring quietly and it helps calm your racing pulse. “Good Girl” he slowly withdraws his hand and removes his gloves. Leaning around you to open your door he gives you another quick kiss. “Noctis will be disappointed about this evening, perhaps we should eat together?” Your legs feel shaky as you enter, Prompto is sat on your couch, watching what sounds like a musical and Gladio appears in front of you, pulling you into a kiss before you can even say hello. The kiss Gladio gives you is ravenous, his teeth nipping at your bottom lip. Both hands squeeze your ass as you try to pull away, conscious of the growing slick between your already wet thighs. “Gladio!” He chuckles at your breathless gasp and pulls away, letting you go. He slaps your ass hard as you walk away, almost crossing the line into genuinely painful but he only grins at your glare. You wince as you sit down next to Prompto and he gives you a sympathetic smile. He pats his knee “Lie down.”

Head resting in Prompto lap you half-heartedly watch the musical as he enthusiastically tells you the plot. You gaze flicks between the TV and Ignis and Gladio talking quietly by the door. You can’t make out what they’re saying but you have no doubt what they’re talking about. You’re still a little shook from your meeting with King Regis but you trust your pack to look after you. --------- “She looked to me for permission.” “hmm?” “When the King spoke to her. She looked to me before answering.” Gladio surprises him with a kiss to his cheek. “We trained her well.” “It’s not the way I wanted this topic brought up.” Ignis says after a few seconds and relaxes a little as Gladio strokes a hand down his back. “I didn’t realise that was what the King wished to discuss.” “Relax babe. We’ll do damage control, it’ll be fine.” Gladio watches Ignis expression closely, “She wasn’t happy with the idea I take it?” “She said No. Emphatically.” They both stand there quietly, watching you as you’re subjected to Prompto’s retelling of the film’s plot. “Accidents happen.” Gladio says quietly. Ignis frowns. “She’s on birth control and heat suppressants.” “You're in charge of her medication Iggy” Ignis finally looks at him, but says nothing. “Who can really tell one little pill from another?” Gladio shrugs. “Just saying.”

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

“Noctis said you cancelled your plans with him today.” Ignis stands next to your bed watching you. He frowns slightly when you don’t respond, gently pressing the back of his hand to your forehead. You push him away and he sits next to you on the mattress. He sits and waits watching you patiently until you give in and make eye contact with him. He's worried about you, it’s written clearly across his face and it makes you feel ill. You shrug. You're half expecting him to force you to go anyway.

“Bad day?”

You don't answer and snuggle deeper into your duvet.

“Love?”

“I'm fine,” It’s an automatic answer and a lie. “Just tired.” Not quite another lie but close enough. You are tired. Just not the type of tired that's going to be helped by the 12 hour nap you want to take. You try to force a smile but it feels awkward and it’s obviously not convincing from Ignis expression.

He sighs and cautiously shifts a little closer but you flinch away when he goes to stroke your hair. It's a dirty greasy mess and the thought of Ignis touching it fills you with disgust and embarrassment.

“Don’t.” His nostrils flare as he scents you and the surge of hatred for that invasion of privacy makes you feel physically sick. Nothing is ever just yours anymore.

“Talk to me love, I care about you.”

“Why?”

It's a choked sob and you angrily bite your lip in an effort to stop the tears.

“Because I love you.”

“Well you shouldn't.” It’s a snappy angry retort but he doesn’t flinch or pull away.

He reaches forward, gently brushing some of your hair away from your face. “Sit up.” You scowl but you do as he commands. He pulls your hair gently in to a ponytail, combing his finger slowly through it to ease the knots before tying it with a band.

“Have you eaten today?” You shake your head reluctantly. You hadn’t even got out of bed today let alone eaten or drunk anything. “Have you taken your medication?” His questions and attention are starting to irritate you. You just want to be left alone. “Love?” You shrug. You genuinely don’t remember. “I can take care of myself.” “Can you?” You don’t reply, annoyed at his patronizing, but probably correct assumption and instead lie back down and curl up into a tighter ball and try to ignore him. He sighs and entwines his fingers through yours despite your attempt to pull your hand away.

“I will go get you something to eat.”

You don’t want to eat but you want to be left alone so you nod. He looks almost sad, maybe disappointed and it feels you with a surge of guilt.

”Tell Noct I'm sorry”

“You have nothing to be sorry for love, but I will talk to him?”

It's a question and it surprises you for some reason.

You don't want him to know, it makes you feel pathetic. Ignis notices the way your thoughts have gone and links his fingers back through yours. “He'll understand.” He squeezes your hand on the last word and you look up at him. Noctis is the one most likely to understand you know that but it's still embarrassing.

“I won't tell him anything you don't want me to, just enough to ease his concerns.”

You nod reluctantly, but the thought that Noctis could genuinely be worried about you feels absurd. “Will you be safe on your own?” his gaze sweeps down your arm as he stands, you know what he’s looking for, what he’s thinking, and you feel irritated at yourself for having shared so much with him in the past. The frustration at his question is unfair, you know that but you still feel it.

“I’ll stay.” Gladio’s voice interrupts your reply. You watch with increasing exasperation as they talk quietly by the door, wishing they'd just go away before Ignis comes back to you. You squeeze your eyes shut and try to ignore his intense gaze. He presses a gentle kiss to your forehead and entwines his fingers back through yours. You crack open an eye when he doesn’t move away. He looks so concerned about you that you find yourself crying before you can stop yourself. “I’m sorry.” It’s half choked half sobbed from your throat. “You don’t need to be sorry” he repeats. He makes no move to come closer and you feel grateful for that. You don’t think you can handle too much affection without breaking down completely.

“Why do you put up with me?” you whisper, voice cracking. “I don’t do anything, I can’t fight, I can’t help with hunts, I just do nothing. I’m a burden.” “Love.” he sighs. “You are not a burden.” He kisses your palm. “You are a part of our pack. Our omega. Our mate.” He kisses you. “We love you.” “Why?” you sniffle. You can’t wrap your head around it. He wipes away your tears with a sad smile, “Because I do, because it’s you.” You’ve fooled him somehow, tricked him into loving you. Your stomach twists painfully.

“I won’t be long.” “Ok.” It’s a weak feeble reply but he doesn’t pull away from you, instead waits until you let go of his hand. You watch him leave, expecting him to go and not return now he’s seen what you are truly like until Gladio steps in front, blocking your view.

He stands next to your bed, arms crossed as he looks down at you. “Can I?”

You hesitate in answering and he takes that as a yes.

“Move over,” he says expectantly. Pushing his way into your bed and nudging you gently with his elbow when you don’t move.

You feel guilty that he’s having to stay with you, the urge to make it up to him is strong. You hook your leg over his and slide your calf over this crotch. He grunts in surprise and grabs your leg. “Relax baby.”

“You don't want to?” You're not surprised really, you probably don't look or smell very attractive right now but it still hurts. Why would he stay if you can't give him what he wants?

“Always, but we're napping right now.”

You don't believe him, and even though you don't even want to have sex you still feel the sting of rejection. He notices and presses a kiss to your forehead. Grabbing your wrist he tugs your hand to his crotch. “I'm always half hard for you omega.” And he is. You curl your hand around the bulge in his pants and squeeze tightly. His hips jerk forward and he chuckles pulling your hand away to rest on his chest. “No, don’t be naughty.”

You slump down on his chest, somewhat sullenly, still a little sore from his rejection.

You lose yourself in Gladio’s presence for a while, his heart beat strong and steady in your ear. “Wanna talk?”

“No, just cuddle.”

“I can do that.” He tightens his grip around you, pulling you until you are practically on top of him.

The self hatred comes back and you tense. You try to pull back but he tightens his hold.

“What's wrong?”

“I'm –“ Was he really going to make you say it?

“I'm heavy.” You mumble it into his chest.

“What?”

“Aren't I too heavy?”

“No you’re perfect.” he slides his hands down your sides to your ass. “I love every inch of you,” he continues his movements, gripping your thighs. “You know how much Prompto goes on about these thighs? Gets me jealous with the amount of marks he leaves on them.”

You want to cry. He freezes as your breath hitches.

“We can work on it if it's something you really want baby.” He says it hesitantly, quietly, like he's scared of upsetting you further. Linking his fingers with yours he tugs your hand to rest over his heart.

You don’t know if it is something you want, you can’t separate the dark voice in your head from the logical one. But he’s listening to you. He’s not dismissing you, and he’s definitely not ignoring you and it makes the tears run freely again. Youre not worth such care. His free hand is still wandering, soothing strokes that start at the nape of your neck, swirl down your spine to your ass and dip just barely under the hem of your shirt. It’s a soft gentle caress and even when his hands slip a little higher under your shirt there’s nothing but love and tenderness in his touch. “You’re sexy and you’re smart,” he kisses your thumb, “funny, kind,” he makes his way along your fingers with each word, a kiss pressed to the tip of each one. “brave, and my favourite kind of brat.” he nips at your pinky with the last word, before moving onto your other hand. His hands still when he hears you sniff. ”Want me to stop?”

You bury your face into his chest to hide your tears. “Yes,” you hiccup “No.”

He squeezes you tighter and lets your hand drop, resuming his touch down your back.

“and I like you on top of me,” he says his voice dropping to a low whisper “I love watching you ride me.”

His horniness is predictable, and you smile into his neck, and although it doesn't last long it is a genuine smile.

“I felt that.”

You feel him relax underneath you, he’s not purring but you feel grateful for that.

You're still tired, still sad but the heavy dark emptiness in your chest lessens slightly as you lay there and listen to Gladio’s heartbeat. You feel like you can breathe a little easier. You turn on to your side away from him and all though he looks apprehensive he lets you go.

You shift and squirm until you are comfortable on your front and reach behind you to pull Gladio’s arm across your back. He goes willingly, only resisting when you try to drag him on top of you. “The weight feels good. Please? It makes me feel,-“ It’s hard to describe how it makes you feel exactly, “…safe.” You finish quietly. He opens his mouth to reply and you beat him to it. “No talking, just squish.” His amused huff rustles your hair but he does as he’s told, draping himself over you until your half wedged under him and wrapped tight in his arms.

“I lo-“ “Don’t” you interrupt him quickly, with a surge of panic. You can’t hear that right now. “I’m- I cant. Not now.” You’re pretty sure you’re not making sense, that he’s not going to understand. “Ok.” It's murmured against your hair, a simple acknowledgment but it makes you feel better. “Can I touch you?” You nod and he slips his warm hand under your shirt to rest across your ribs just under your breasts, holding you snugly against him. It still doesn't sit quite right. His affection, his obvious care, still feels alien, wrong, like it’s meant for someone else. The feeling that you’ve tricked them into caring about you and your depressed mood still linger, and probably will for a while. But you’ve been through this before, you’ve made it through this before, and with the sound of Gladio’s steady breathing in your ear as he holds you, the heavy emptiness in your chest lessens a little bit more.

#ffxv #fanfiction #a/b/o universe #ffxv ignis #ffxv gladio

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snorlaxlovesme · 3 years

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full thoughts on the chaos walking movie? I want to hear more about it lol I haven’t seen it yet

it just...it felt like TKONLG but without EVERY GOOD PART, you know?

scene-wise, the closest individual scene we had to anything in the book was maybe the scene where Viola read Todd’s mother’s book to him? (even that wasn’t the same bc that was also the scene where we find out he’s illiterate, and he lets her read it right away, so there was no deep-rooted embarrassment about not being able to read). also it happened in Farbranch. BUT, like it captured the emotion of the OG scene a little, where Viola is reading to Todd and he’s hearing his ma’s words and getting emotional about it.

but all the stand-out scenes from the book, i.e. saying goodbye to Ben and Cillian, meeting the girl and getting hit in the head with a branch and bandaging her anyway, ALL of the Aaron fights, the bridge, the massacre of Farbranch, the song of Here, the Spackle, Todd’s illness, the waterfall scene, Haven, NONE of that was in the movie. so imagine all the really important and powerful moments gone

also all the overarching themes? those are gone too. todd becoming a man is HUGE deal in the books. even in his horrible awful town he just wants to feel like he BELONGS and he’s the one person in the entire town being ostracized. two of the biggest secrets in Todd’s whole world are kept from him for the majority of the book because he’s “not yet a man”. it’s important to him. and once todd realizes the connection between Prentisstown maturity and murder, he spends the rest of that book WISHING he could be a killer. wishing he could have that kind of strength and seeing himself weak for not being able to kill.

all of that?? gone. movie!Todd often chants the familiar “I am Todd Hewitt” (and sometimes “be a man”) when he’s nervous or trying to cover something in his Noise, and has a little tiff with Ben and Cillian at the beginning of the movie bc the Mayor sees Todd as a man while Ben and Cillian do not. (that’s a weird little bit though bc the movie never really explains why the Mayor had such an interest in Todd). but that’s about it in terms of coming-of-age material in the movie. and about murder. seeing as he doesn’t. kill. the. Spackle. let that sink in.

also like. the Noise is shown as a CONCEPT but not as a theme. the THEME of Noise is that, and I quote

“In this world of information overload, the ability to feel, my boy, is a rare gift indeed.”

or perhaps

“Knowing a man’s thoughts ain’t knowing a man.”

or even

“Knowledge is dangerous and men lie and the world changes, whether I want it to or not.”

in this movie, Noise would be described as like. a nuisance at worst and a superpower at best. you can hear most of every man’s thoughts in the movie, though not a constant, never ending stream. just just bits sporadically at either plot-convenient or comedic times. the Mayor (and at one point Ben, and at one point Todd) uses his Noise to construct illusions around people kind of similar to that Jake Gyllenhaal villain in Spiderman: Far From Home.

but neither of these two main examples really SHOW the themes that Patrick Ness showed us in the books. that Noise is powerfully ANNOYING; that it can quickly break down relationships between groups of people; that it can be manipulated making large lies still possible.

like, remember when in the books, Todd and Viola get to Farbranch and poor Todd is absolutely GOBSMACKED that 1. the women are ALIVE and 2. the men and women are living together?? in harmony?? what the eff?? and you see Hildy in Tam’s Noise and just how much they genuinely love each other and Todd is like “damn we ain’t in Prentisstown anymore Manchee”. and you can just see based on the contrast that Prentisstown people are a whole different breed compared to the kindness of Farbranch?

in the movie Todd has a few moments of inner dialogue where he’s like “oh man that’s a woman. that’s nuts” and then we move on. his world should be turned upside down here and its not. and the difference between the two towns is that they kinda just made it seem like, yeah, Noise is annoying so we have the men sleep separately from the women so we all get a little peace, and it’s fine. that’s how Farbranch deals with it. it all just feels very blasé

(i can’t remember specifically where this happens, probably either in Farbranch or cutting back to the Prentisstown men getting ready to march, but at some point a leader ends up saying something to a crowd of people and you can see how just one sentence spreads through an entire group of men and how they all start amplifying it and getting more and more panicked and i did think the mob mentality was cool. it reminded me of the beginning of The Ask and the Answer were the Mayor is addressing the citizens of Haven and you get that moment where the whole crowd flinches over the words of one man.)

and in all of this I’ve barely mentioned Viola. my wonderful girl. how they’ve massacred her story. god.

all of Viola’s development for the first half of the book is tanked from the start bc you SEE the crash, you see her stealing food from Ben and Cillian’s house (that’s the inciting incident of the movie), she talks to the Mayor in Prentisstown almost immediately after Todd finds her and his Noise helps everyone locate her, she talks to Todd a lot before getting to Farbranch after they escape Prentissown. the book does a LOT of work for Viola by having her mute and scared for the beginning and slowly showing how she comes to trust Todd. and how even after their incessent bickering in Farbranch they still choose to escape together because they know the army is after them specifically and they’re all the other has. that progression is really important in the book, as well as afterwards when we see how snarky Viola can actually be when speaking, how she thinks this entire planet is BACKWARDS and she can’t wait til her ship comes and shows them a thing or two about how to live.

movie Viola, well. she wants to find a way to communicate with her ship. she’s under the impression that since her scout ship crashed they’re gonna assume she’s dead and leave her behind. even though the Mayor brings up the settlers a lot after he learns about them, Viola curiously never really brings them up in any other context besides they need to come and get her. like it really made it sound like she planned on calling them, having them scoop her, and then they’d all just fucking leave, i guess. i don’t know what her end goal was besides CALLING HER PEOPLE which became the main point of the movie. the Mayor trying to find Todd and Viola so he could....use her to contact the ship?? that was also kind of unclear. and Viola trying to get to a communicator possibly so she could get the hell out of dodge. idk if that was her actual plan, but it was certainly what Todd was thinking, enough to where I was wondering if he was going to sabotage her mission in order to force her to stay (yeah. yeah. he had that energy about him and it was grosss)

and quickly, since all the animals couldn’t talk the way they do in the book, Manchee was more of a cute prop than anything. i could have gotten over it if he was useful in any way, but he never even like attacked a dude to save Todd or anything like that. so when he died it was sad on a dog-level but not a character level, since besides sitting next to Viola like twice while she cried he really added nothing to the story. also the shock of animal death was greatly reduced already since Todd’s horse that he used to escape Prentisstown from got a broken leg after he rode him off a cliff, so Todd used the knife (off-screen, thank god) to put him down. so Manchee getting killed was kind of lessened a little since my man Whiskey got nixed like 40 min earlier in the film.

this is getting long so I’ll cut it here since I’m gonna probably post about this a thousand more times. but yeah. if you watched it completely divorced from the books you would probably think “that was a cool concept but also what was the point of any of that” which is basically what most people thought based on the review headlines i’ve read. and if you are an avid book fan you’re gonna think you’re watching something else entirely.

#chaos walking #chaos walking movie #cw movie #chaos walking spoilers #violaeade #long post #ill def be posting about this more bc its all ive thought about for days #@ everyone i am always willing to discuss chaos walking #if you wanna send me an ask or DM me im open for business #kelly got an ask

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elucere · 3 years

Text

Sad Late August Quarantine Thoughts 2.0

Last year, I wrote this. Basically my thoughts on how I felt in my life up to that point and what quarantine had illuminated. It felt cathartic then, so hopefully it’ll feel cathartic now. A part of that probably had to do with the fact that the last part was complete bullshit, but we’ll get into that later.

At nearly the slightest inconvenience now, I’ll say “I’m at my limit”. Technically, that isn’t really true because if I was really at my limit, at the next inconvenience I would completely lose it. But no, I’m just simply reminding myself that while I’m constantly met with a series of unfortunate events, I haven’t broken down yet. I might feel like I’m there, but I’m not. I’m just at my limit. Things are bad, but they aren’t the worst they could be yet. So keep in mind, I am very much at my limit as I’m writing this.

Last year I talked about my struggles with my job. Yeah, I got fired in February. It was not pretty either. I knew I wasn’t doing well performance wise, and they invited me into a zoom call that they said was a project meeting a week before my year anniversary and fired me. My supervisor (or I guess, ex-supervisor) cried on call. I didn’t cry until afterwards. It was an entire year of me trying to get better, him promising that it’ll come with time, and then getting sacked because “we didn’t see improvements”. Really, really fucking sucked. And it messed with me for a long time because I kept replaying those last few weeks, trying to decipher what I could’ve done differently to prove my worth and keep my position. There was a lot. I felt really guilty.

I think the worst part is that I got a performance warning in December and realized at that point I’d become so apathetic about my job that I needed professional help. I’d been trying to go to therapy for a long time, but it never panned out. My mom forbade it when I was in high school, it was practically impossible to get an appointment at my college’s mental health facility unless you were considered a threat to yourself and others (which I most certainly did not want on my record), and after school life happened so fast with the pandemic and the fact that I live in a 2 bedroom apartment with my mom and my brother with very little privacy. Even now that I’ve convinced my mom that therapy is okay, actually, she still highly disproves and sees it as some sort of psychological failing on my part. Which is. Sure. Whatever. Why not.The reason I did not enroll in therapy that December is actually because my dad lost his job and with it, his health insurance, and with that, my health insurance. That means I had to enroll in a health plan through my employment, which became an unanticipatedly long process. I actually got my new-but-useless health insurance card in the mail a few days after I got fired. They actually fired me on the last day of the month, so my benefits wouldn’t extend beyond that month. That’s a bit of fun irony.

To quite a few of my friends, this story solidified the idea that insurance=therapy. As soon as I got insurance again, I’d be able to finally get some help. This was a couple of people’s first response to me when I got hired again (yay, I know I don’t have to worry about that anymore but I’m also afraid that I’ll just inevitably be fired again so I don’t let myself have the victory). I know my friends only want the best for me, and I can’t expect them be able to emotionally support me like a professional, but I’m afraid that they think that therapy will be some sort of magical fix of sorts. I don’t mean in the sense of just getting better mentally, but I think being a tolerable person. I know that sounds like I’m just being self-depreciating, but let me explain.

A few years ago I was at dinner with one of my friends. I don’t remember exactly what we were talking about, but she goes “name three things you actually like” because I was probably being negative or something. I said a few things and whatever, but that comment stuck with me for a long time. I thought it was especially poignant or something. Am I so unhappy all the time because I fixate on things I don’t like? It could be connected to the attitude of social media to be outwardly negative. Casual wisdom, you know.

Well, that was the fact until I was out with that same friend and we visited Barnes and Noble. I’ve been doing quite a bit of reading this year and got more involved in the book community, so I have many Opinions. Some are good, some are bad, some are just me being annoying. After an hour of browsing the shelves, we drive home. I start talking about a series I really like in the car and she goes “It’s nice to hear you talk about a book you actually like.” Which kind of stunned me because I had just did a lot of talking about books I liked. How happy I was that kids were still reading Rangers Apprentice, going out of my way to see how many Brandon Sanderson books I could find in the Adult Fantasy section, and more reminiscing in the Young Adult section about books I liked recently or as a teen. The truth is, I talk about stuff I like all the time to people who will listen. Ask me about my favorite books! My favorite movies! My favorite musicals! I promise I will not shut up. It’s one of the few things I have that lift my spirits when I talk about it, I just don’t get the opportunity to much because it’s hard to find people who want to listen.

The thing is, I’m naturally a critical person, I think. I love tearing things apart, in good and bad ways. I also love gossip. I’m an okay gossip, but I know at this point that I’m a good critic. I’m really good at identifying faults and commenting them on an insightful or constructive way. I edit a lot of my friends’ writings for this reason. I don’t find that to be anything negative, it’s just something that’s interesting to me. Basically what I’m saying is, what if it’s not mental illness and I’m just annoying and I’ll not be able to meet the expectations of other people’s idea of progress for me and I’ll be a disappointment. I’m kind of tearing up while typing that out while listening bopping to Disturbia by Rihanna but this is the third time I’ve been on the verge of crying today so yaknow maybe it is just mental illness.At this point, I can either talk about criticism in relation to the particular way I dish it, or I could talk about how I want to receive it. I think the former will take less time to elaborate, so I’ll start with that.

I mention last year how I got an unpaid gig as a critic for DiscussingFilm. Embarrassing at times, I joke with my friends that “DiscussingFilm Writer” is a slur, but it’s cool at times as well. I got a press pass to go to Sundance and gorged on an entire family sized bag of peanut M&Ms while I watched like 14 movies in one weekend. I’m trying to say positive things about this until I start ragging to prove that I’m not an overwhelmingly negative person, but I don’t think that’s working well. Whatever. The point is, if I didn’t like it I would quit, but if I did quit it wouldn’t be because I didn’t like it. It would because there was an…event. I had quite a falling out with one of the higher-ups that run the site and in response my work has taken a hit. I won’t go into too much detail, but I don’t get assigned anticipated releases anymore. My work is often delayed going out and, in turn, I feel less motivated to turn in my work on time. And then on top of that, it’s rarely promoted. I have examples on top of examples, but this stupid thing is getting long enough. To summarize the DiscussingFilm situation, I feel like shit. I have one of the lowest view counts on the site. I’m told that my work is good and it’s valued, but not enough to get reposted, I guess! Why bother. And also because the person I do not work well with is quite up in the food chain, I’ll never see a promotion. I wanted to become an editor so bad (I do editing on the side for my friends and enjoy it), but now it will never ever happen. I don’t have the opportunity to prove myself, it’s just completely off the table by nature of leadership. Ass. Complete ass. I’m doing quite a bit of work for DiscussingFilm including creating the standard for the Instagram, making graphics for the Instagram, performing interviews and writing reviews for the site, and co-hosting a DiscussingFilm branded podcast, and I will never see neither a dime for my work or recognition in any meaningful or significant way. I don’t have a say in anything, and I feel like an insignificant cog whose opinion does not mean much.

I still get insecure with my reviews, but not as much anyways. Sure, I can’t compare to the great writers at trades who do this for a living and have been doing so for years. But, I am better than a lot of writers at my level. Sometimes I try pitching to other publications, but so far I’ve only been met with rejection. It kinda stings to know that my work is not worth enough to be paid for, but I’m kinda over it. I still pitch. I try my best. That’s the thing about me, I just keep going. Rejection hurts like a bitch, but whatever. I don’t want to quit just yet, so I guess I won’t. There isn’t anyone in my corner who’s actively spurring me to keep going, I’ve just decided that I’ll get paid for my work one day and so now I will.This connects with the criticism I want to receive which unfortunately very much is not of the nonfiction variety. Ew I fucking hate talking about this but I need to get it off my chest.

After I got fired, I was slipping into quite a bit of a depression. I started a podcast at this time with my friend to try and prevent that, but I knew that I probably needed another project. I wasn’t watching movies anymore, DiscussingFilm was not publishing my shit, and all I was doing all day was reading (which I don’t anymore, I’m in a slump and it’s definitely connected to the idea I have in the next sentence). So I had the brilliant idea of “hey, I could do that. I could write a book. I should do it to do it.”You see, this has not been my only attempt at writing a proper book. I tried when I was 13, I tried when I was 15 and into online literate roleplay, I tried when I was 18 by doing NaNoWriMo in college (also, I was actually more depressed then). I also tried to get into a short story class in college that you had to submit a story to get into and didn’t even make it on the waitlist. Nothing stuck. But hey, I was unemployed and I came up with a funny premise that I wasn’t too attached to, so why not?

The book is not funny. It was supposed to, but it’s changed a lot. I’m very comfortable writing in camp. It’s difficult because I know sometimes I have my moments, but often I don’t. I also chose to write it in a genre I’m not super familiar with (Young Adult contemporary, I read Young Adult and Adult fiction primarily). I didn’t expect it to be easy, but the things I thought would come easily did not come easily. I have a lot of male friends, so I could certainly write the male characters as real people, right? Right? I’m funny, so the humor would come across well, right? Did I anticipate that after years of pretty much only analyzing films critically I’d subconsciously structure my story using dialogue-driven storytelling similar to a screenplay? No! Not at all, actually! This journey of self-discovery has been ass at every corner!

I recognize that first drafts are shit and authors hate their writing, but also I’m built different, your honor. By 15k words in, I realized I needed an outside perspective. I hated my own writing and I was afraid none of the characters were coming off right. I needed feedback, and I still do. But I hate being perceived. As long as no one reads my writing, they think that I know what I’m talking about and value my opinion on their writing, but once they figure out I’m just an Imposter then it’s game over. They’ll lose respect for me. Logically, I know this isn’t how this works, but I feel physically nauseous whenever someone reads my writing.

Anyways, back to my much-needed criticism. To make a long story short involving several English teacher that caused me to quit pursuing writing altogether in my formative years and decide to switch to a STEM track, I have very little tangible self-awareness of my own writing and how to improve it. I need the outside feedback, or at least I did. I’m 60k words into my first draft now and I’m cripplingly self aware of all my errors, but it feels too little too late. 60k words are a lot of words, and it feels not great knowing that most of them are trash. I really needed this kind of feedback earlier in the process so I could make tweaks early on. I know that writing is like a muscle and you need to work it out and practice to get stronger, but fuck man, FUCK. 60k words is a LOT of words. And I still need people to read it and give me feedback and I’m literally willingly asking people to read shit. It’s so humiliating. I guess I’m just at a point where I wish I could look at it and find something of value in what I’ve written.

I see other authors and I get so jealous. At their confidence, at their lyricism, their mastery of the art, their enthusiasm for their story, their love of their characters. I don’t have that. I’m not even talking about imposter’s syndrome. I know what that feels like. This is something else. I just wish I was the kind of person who could openly be creative without wanting to die. I’m 100% sure if I could be enthusiastic about the story I want to tell, the entire thing would be better. It’s crazy how I noticed that I’m not writing any metaphors into realizing that’s directly connected with my inability to be vulnerable and that I’m detaching myself from my work. That, and the fact that I’m fucking shite at writing metaphors apparently.

It also doesn’t help that I don’t have a writer group of friends and very little people to talk about this with, none of which are like… enthusiastic. It’s not their fault. I attract people into my life who are very much like me. They’re supportive and wonderful but I need someone who’d be excited to talk to me about it. I just feel like such a huge burden all the time. Everytime I bring it up I feel terrible, but it’s occupying so much of my brain space and I have no outlet. But also, getting that group of friends would require me to be vulnerable online and be willing to share what I have so far which I might actually throw up.I think it’s very fun that “crying and throwing up” has become a saying on Twitter considering that I’ve counted a countless amount of times this year and thrown up from stress four times since last November. It might also be connected to coffee consumption, but if that’s true I’m ready to off myself because coffee is one of my few joys. Honestly, it’s probably a mix of both. I’m very healthy, very much okay.

I don’t know. Last year, I ended my little essay on a hopeful note. Here’s the thing, this may seem like very much just stream of consciousness bullshit but there is quite a bit of structuring I do and omissions I make. I didn’t talk about my struggles reconnecting with people and subsequently taking their irregular replies, because there’s a lot to get into there. There’s a lot I could’ve talked about, but no room. There’s a very specific flow, and I feel like any story, it needs a conclusion. So last year, through tears, I wrote a hopeful ending. It was as much for me as it was to the people reading it. Unfortunately, I don’t have it in it for me to conclude in the same fashion this time around.

The truth is, I need to feel okay. I need to feel like I’m good at something, anything, and be recognized for it.

Life is suffering and I’m just constantly going through the motions. I promise you, this stupid thing is 3k words and the second I’m done I’ll go back to working on my b**k even though today I literally started crying thinking about how shit it is. I’m just a tenacious individual. I persist. I don’t feel good about it, and I’m done with being genuinely hopeful, but there’s nothing to do but keep moving. I don’t know if my writing will get better or if I’ll ever get published or if this story is worth it. I don’t fucking know anything and I feel like shit. But what else am I going to do? I’ve been holding onto this hope that I’ll feel better about things for just so long and it hasn’t happened. But I’m not giving up lmao I’m just working with what I have. I am at my limit.

#mine #bean spews

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carryonmywaywardcaptain · 4 years

Text

Six Feet Apart

CarryOnCap’s Masterlist

Summary: Dean is fed up with a lot of things about the Coronavirus and safety guidelines, but he’s got a compelling reason to follow them. Sometimes it’s funny what a little faith can do.

Warnings: Obviously everything surrounding the ‘Rona, mentions of terminal illness, some angst, some feels but a positive ending

A/N: @rileynicole1967 requested a Dean x reader fic based on “Six Feet Apart” by Alec Benjamin. This is definitely not what you asked for because it took a weird turn, BUT it was very therapeutic for me to write and I still managed to give it the ending you asked for. So I appreciate the request more than you know :)

[IF you happen to be curious about the inspiration behind this: I’ve been in a rough place for quite some time-- hence my Tumblr absence. Not that the self-disclosure is really needed, but my grandma is in really bad shape with her cancer and I’ve been trying to make things work with a guy who very well could have been “The One” under non-’Rona circumstances. I’ve been caught in a terrible, anxiety-inducing middle between obviously wanting to date and spend time with a guy who is out in the world everyday, but only being able to do so much without risking my grandma’s health. Aaand kind of mine too. Stupid faulty meatsuit haha. Anyway. Life has been so stinking heavy but this helped a little.]

Keys.

Mask.

Wallet.

Phone.

It was routine now. Dean had gone through the process so many times that his body practically went on autopilot as he grabbed the items on his way out of the motel room he’d checked into late last night.

There were days he thought the guidelines were frustrating, inconvenient, and even a little pointless. He knew he’d probably get the virus at some point anyway and he’d made peace with that. Maybe he’d be able to fight it off just fine, maybe he wouldn’t. But the chances of that happening were like anything else in life. Even if the world had managed to come to an eerie halt, that didn’t mean it applied to people like him and Sam who still had work to do.

Although he knew he had everything he needed, he checked his pockets again just to be sure. If it were up to him, truthfully he wouldn’t even bother with the mask or the “social distancing” crap.

But it wasn’t just about him anymore. And he couldn’t afford to take any chances.

Oh, I miss you most at six feet apart when you’re

Right outside my window, but can’t ride inside my car

And it hurts to know just how lovely you are

And be too far away to hold, but close enough to break my heart

I miss your smile

Feels like miles

Six feet apart

Dean pulled into a worn concrete driveway in front of a modest white house. The front porch, which he’d become quite familiar with lately, contained two cast iron chairs and a matching table. He’d never been inside, couldn’t risk the possibility of bringing the virus into her home if he’d unknowingly come into contact with it. While he was constantly on the road chasing cases, she only left the house for treatments, appointments, and intermittent trips to the porch when he could make it back to visit.

He sighed heavily, putting the car in park before turning to glare at the offending bit of fabric on the leather seat beside him. He hated wearing that stupid mask. Hated the way the material trapped each breath, circulating the warm air right back to his face. He hated how stuffy and suffocating it felt. Sometimes it even made him feel a little claustrophobic.

But she’d sewn it herself and given it to him so he could stop using t-shirts, bandanas, and any other piece of clothing he could find in his trunk as a makeshift mask each time he came to see her. Sometimes he struggled to keep in mind what a thoughtful gesture it had been. That having to wear it might be annoying, but it really wasn’t a big deal in the grand scheme of things. And if a stupid piece of fabric had even a small chance of keeping them safe, then he could deal with it for a few hours, couldn’t he?

A few hours, he thought sourly. Nowadays they were lucky if they could even get that much time together. But he’d take what he could get.

Reluctantly, he grabbed the mask and looped the elastic bands around each ear. After fussing with the edges, trying in vain to make it fit comfortably, he let his head fall back against the seat in frustration. As he examined the space above him, sinking deeper into his ruminating thoughts, he began to wonder how much longer he could keep this up and if all of this was really worth it.

So far, so far, but so close

Like a star out in the cosmos

Can’t touch the beauty I see

That’s how it feels at six feet

It had been a while since the last time he’d been able to visit her. When the front door opened and two women emerged, he climbed out of the car and walked straight to his usual spot on the overgrown lawn. As he got closer and appraised her condition, he tried to conceal his reaction.

She looked rough. Despite the fuzzy robe she wore, he could tell how feeble her figure was beneath. Her movements were slow and deliberate, making him suspect she may have fallen again recently. He clenched his jaw, recalling how she’d been too weak to pick herself up last time and had remained on the floor until someone came to check on her the next morning.

With help from the other woman, who he assumed was a new caretaker, she settled into the cushions on one of the chairs. Her chest heaved and her eyes fell closed as she took a moment to recover from the exertion of her short walk. When her eyes finally fluttered open, they were a stark contrast against her sallow skin.

“Long time, no see,” she teased, her voice a hoarse whisper.

Dean nodded. “How’re you feeling today?”

“Can’t complain.”

In a way, he knew she was lying. He had a feeling she was having a rough day, but she was never one to complain. He had quickly learned that no matter what was going on in her life, she was the kind of person who worried about everyone else and put their well-being before her own. He wondered what kind of update the doctor had given her this time, but he was too afraid to ask.

“It’s so good to see you.”

Her gentle admission shook him from his thoughts. The edges of her eyes crinkled and he could just imagine the smile she wore beneath her mask.

Space and time are interwoven

Well, at least that’s what we’re told

When I was young, I was suspicious, but it’s true

Time sticks like glue

I feel so blue

Here missing you

So I think I’ll build a time machine and go back to a time

When we didn’t need to measure six feet on the ground

When I came around

That’s not allowed

I can’t go back now

He’d never really been the relationship type. He hadn’t been looking for anything when their paths had first crossed, but there was something about her that had captured his interest. The more they’d gotten to know one another, the more he learned just how much they had in common.

It had made him feel uneasy at first-- how easy she was for him to talk to. She rarely pressed him on anything and she had a way of making him feel comfortable even with the hardest conversations. They’d shared their life stories; their favorite memories, biggest letdowns, family dramas, and everything in between. After all of the monsters they’d each faced in their lives...this one was the deadliest and ugliest he’d ever had to face. And of all the people in the world who didn’t deserve to go through something like this, she topped the list.

Okay, sure, no one really deserved a death sentence. But didn’t it always make it worse that bad things always seemed to happen to good people?

Dean had beaten leviathans and reapers. He’d taken out loads of vampires, ghouls, and ghosts. He’d ganked more angel and demon douchebags than he could count. But when he had asked her to let him help-- when he’d mentioned what Cas could do or offered to work with Sam to find a spell that might heal her-- she politely declined. She had simply thanked him and explained that it wouldn’t be fair to everyone else fighting for their lives like she was. That her life was in no way more important than anyone else’s. She’d told Dean sometimes these things just happen and have a little faith, you never know.

Dean had of course tried to argue, but he couldn’t quite put into words just how special she was. That she didn’t deserve this and he’d give anything to change their circumstances. At one point he’d even considered tracking down a crossroads demon and making a deal to switch places with her, but he knew she wouldn’t have wanted that.

No matter how many times he tried to bring it up or how much he wished he could fight this one for her, there was nothing he could do to fight the monster slowly killing her from the inside out.

So, I miss you most at six feet apart when you’re

Right outside my window, but can’t ride inside my car

And it hurts to know just how lovely you are

And be too far away to hold, but close enough to break my heart

I miss your smile

Feels like miles

Six feet apart

It seemed like there was never enough time. They’d talked all afternoon and neither one of them were ready to say goodbye but, when she suddenly shivered, he knew it was time for him to leave. It wasn’t cold outside by any means, but it took a lot more to keep her warm these days.

He couldn’t help but linger a little longer, admiring her from where he still sat in the grass. Sometimes just being in her presence helped ease a little of the hopelessness he always seemed to grapple with. It was starting to take a toll on him-- not knowing if things would ever get better or if the world would ever return to some sense of normalcy.

What he wanted more than anything was to walk right up on the porch and wrap his arms around her. It didn’t make sense how much he ached to just be near her. He’d never admit it out loud, but it was almost physically painful how much he wanted to reach out and touch her-- to hug her, kiss her, or even see her smile without their stupid masks.

But she was barely holding on and he knew her body was fighting every moment of the day just to keep her alive.

He hated wearing his mask. He hated how he could be so close to her and still feel so far away. He hated not being able to hold her and he hated that there didn’t seem to be an end or a solution in sight for the state of the world at the moment. He hated that she was dying and there was nothing he could do about it. And he especially hated the fact that the universe had to have a pretty damn cruel sense of humor to let him meet someone like her in a time like this. Even though he was fed up with feeling like he was stuck in another one of Gabriel’s twisted, incessant pranks...the thought of walking away and not having her in his life at all was far worse.

So he took it one day at a time. He knew there was a chance he might get the virus at some point and usually he was ready to accept whatever cards fate dealt him. Maybe he’d be able to fight it off, maybe he wouldn’t. But she wouldn’t be able to. And he knew if he slipped up, if he somehow managed to pass it along, that that would be the end for her.

He hated a lot of things lately and he wasn’t sure if they’d ever really go away. But there wasn’t a doubt in his mind that every single inconvenience and moment of frustration was worth it for him to be able to spend time with her-- even six feet apart.

***

Dean was staring up at the ceiling, unable to fall back asleep. The nightmares didn’t come as often anymore but, when they did...well, they were no walk in the park. He let out a sharp breath, squeezing his eyes shut as he pushed the images of her sunken face from his mind.

The movement had jostled her, and he hugged her closer when she began to stir. He placed a gentle kiss on top of her head and she hummed softly as she nestled further into his chest.

When they were in the thick of it, it had been so hard to see a way out. To believe they’d be okay or ever have a shot at actually being together. To believe there would be an end to the virus or that there was any chance she could get better.

Sometimes those dark days, when all hope seemed lost, felt like nothing more than a distant nightmare. But Dean refused to let himself forget. Maybe it was morbid, but every moment with her felt a little bit sweeter when he reminded himself of how grim those days had been and of everything they’d had to overcome. When he remembered everything she’d had to endure.

It was honestly a miracle that he was lucky enough to hold her in his arms like this. Everyone had asked him on numerous occasions if he’d done something, but even he didn’t have an explanation. He really didn’t care whether it was faith or something supernatural or even just one of life’s unexplained mysteries-- all that mattered was that she was healthy and alive.

So he kept the memories of those days close and promised himself he’d never take the time he had with her for granted. They had made it through one of the darkest times in either of their lives and he had no doubt they’d face more in the future. But, with her by his side, he had faith they’d find a way to make it through those days too.

So far, so far, but so close

Like a star out in the cosmos

Can’t touch the beauty I see

That’s how it all feels to me

So far, so far, but so close

Like a star out in the cosmos

Can’t touch the beauty I see

That’s how it feels at six feet

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lizacstuff · 3 years

Text

Edser/SCK anon asks (36 spec)

I accidentally deleted an ask that was interesting, if you don’t see yours here, resend it!

(Asks below the cut)

Anonymous said: Do you think that scene of Eda confronting Selin about it is the end of the episode? I'm so drained, Liza. When will this suffering end?

Oh honey, we have SUFFERED. We have. No doubt about it, but I’ll talk more about that in a minute. (We can overcome)

First the fragman, could it be the end of the episode? I suppose so. It’s no fun thinking that it might be the cliffhanger and we have to live with that for 11 days instead of 4, but here’s the interesting thing, according to people who look closely at these things, the outfit Eda was wearing when confronting Selin, Hande was wearing that today while filming at Art Life. We also know that at Art Life the set was dressed for some sort of party or event. An event that had the word ‘love’ on the table. So which comes first? The confrontation with Selin or the Art Life scenes that do not include Deniz or Selin?? I don’t know. The other wild card factor is Bige’s availability. I’m sure most people have heard by now that, sadly, her father passed away this week. This show does not work on a timeline where they can wait. So they might have had to write her out of a few scenes already in this episode, and it’s unknown what her availability will be for next episode. That could end up changing things a bit, so we’ll see. Maybe there will be a second fragman that gives us more context.

Now back to feeling drained by this storyline. I get you. I feel you. But here’s how you shake if off. Boil it down for yourself. Why do you continue to watch this show? I’m going to guess it’s for the same reason I continue to watch this show. Edser. Eda and Serkan are still magic together in every single scene, and Hande and Kerem’s chemistry can turn even the most turgid, ill-advised story or scene into gold. They are worth watching whether they are looking into each other’s eyes or reading the phone book.

So... my advice is to emotionally distance yourself from the plot. The plot is just the device to keep these two actors on screen together playing these two characters. And that sentence is truer for this show than for any other show I’ve ever watched (and I’ve watched A LOT of shows.) It’s all about these two characters and these two actors. So ultimately the plot doesn’t matter. Let the plot go. There is nothing to worry about, Edser is endgame, Edser is the reason this show exists, they are all the matters on this show. So knowing that, just enjoy their individual scenes, appreciate them for what they are and don’t tie yourself into knots over the nonsense these hack writers throw at us. It will all be fine in the end.

Anonymous said: I kinda find it funny that what Erdem suggested turned out to be the way Serkan got his memory back. It was a scene fit for a romcom. Obviously it wasn't how I pictured him to remember but at this point I'll take it. Lol! Erdem should be a fortune teller or something!

You’re right. Erdem was on the right track. It would have been funnier if Erdem had hit him to get his memory back and once it worked, then Engin could have held Serkan down, while Erdem continued to bonk him in the head to bring back more memories.

Anonymous said: i totally feel the mixed feelings with the fragman, but it seems like its an ep with great edser moments where they're together and trying to solve this problem, at the same time they just couldn't keep the drama out of the fragman this time?! at a time where everyone is relieved and positive for the first time in weeks?! just seems like a bad move by the production imo and i'm not even that concerned with the plot like others are. another anon said this, but there is def selin fatigue

Selin fatigue is real!!!! But to be honest I was in Selin fatigue by ep 29. And it’s just gotten worse episode by episode. (though we had a bit of a reprieve from her in 34-35) but the fragman brought the fatigue back with a vengeance. The producer has tweeted before about how the show has to have drama, so, I guess that’s where we are. Drama. They think this is what sells, I guess?

They produce those fragman’s with the Fox viewer in Turkey in mind. So perhaps that’s the kind of tease that works well there? I have no idea. Honestly, I think they’re not worried about online fans and international fans because they know we’re so invested that we won’t give up.

Anonymous said: Normally i would also calm down with the pregnancy thing, it’s probably selin’s last desperate attempt at keeping serkan BUT you know why it scares me? Because they’ll probably introduce the “Kemal is Serkan’s biological father” storyline and I hope that it’s not correlated to selin’s fake pregnancy...like, Serkan would never leave Eda but this Kemal thing will probably remind him how he never had a real father growing up so i hope this doesn’t push him to be by Selin’s side. However, it’s also true that I really don’t think that he and Selin had s*x so I also don’t think they can follow this path. I’m so confused I think we just need to wait and see haha

Yes, we need to wait and see. I see no reason to go down this speculation path unless we’re forced to, because it seems very unlikely to me. Clear it from your mind, and then, if the worst happens, we’ll deal with it then, not now.

Anonymous said: Idk if u follow sck news on twitter but they posted pics/vids from set today in the office and it looks like a party with food and a sign that says “better together”. Someone commented a theory that serkan will orchestrate a surprise engagement party for eda while she talks to Selin and the ep will end with her turning down the proposal bc Selin is “pregnant” and then we have to wait for the next ep for serkan to tell her it’s not possible 🤡🤡 what do u think?

Yep, I follow sck news, who doesn’t? ;) I think this speculation is plausible, and as long as she’s upfront with Serkan about why and Serkan is able to shut it down immediately next ep, then I can live with this as a cliffhanger.

Anonymous said: Part 1. You mentioned in a previous ask how Engin didn't tell Eda that Serkan remembered everything when he made it in time for the wedding. Honestly his lack of action was not surprising, upsetting or disappointing. That's just who Engin is. He's a talker, not a doer. Engin is Serkan's friend similar to how Ceren and Fifi are Eda's friends (I'm talking pre amnesia plot). They care about their friend's happiness. Engin has always talked reason to Serkan especially about his feelings for Eda.

Part 2. But Engin's reason for doing that is Serkan's happiness. Of course he wants Eda's happiness but mostly only because it's tied to Serkan's happiness. He has stood up for Eda before like when Serkan accused her of working with Kaan or when he said she deserves to know the truth about her parents death, but whatever Serkan says goes. He never acts in opposition to him. So if Serkan says he won't stop the wedding, Engin isn't going to do anything despite believing Eda should know the truth.

Here’s the problem with this, it’s not just him not caring about Eda. It’s him not caring about Serkan. He should have done it for Serkan, knowing that Serkan would regret his inaction the rest of his life. It costs him nothing to tell Eda at that moment and let her make the decision.

That’s one of my biggest problems with this cockamamie plot. From the first Fragman of 29, I said it was impossible that Selin could have hidden him away and rekindled her relationship with him because the other character wouldn’t allow it. Oh but they did. This storyline ruined pretty much every single supporting character, (outside of Melo) because otherwise, if they would have acted in-character or even like normal humans, it never would have worked. And that continued all the way up to this stupid fake/real wedding. Writers... if you have to ruin every supporting character to bend and twist and make it so your antagonist isn’t immediately jailed or carted away to a mental hospital, that is a sign that it doesn’t work and you need to go back to the drawing board.

Anonymous said: I have to say, they really do well with the casting on SCK. Especially when they want actors who look like they are related. Eda and her grandmother looked like they were related. It was great casting. Now Serkan and the new character look like they could be related. They have similar features. If the point is for us to speculate that they are father and son, I think they did a good job.

Yes, they really do. I’ve also always thought that Neslihan looks like she could be Kerem’s mother, they have the same coloring. Evrim looks like she could be related to Hande. They have done a great job with that.

Anonymous said: That fragman for ep 36...part of me wants to hope that it will all be solved pretty soon, since we got edser separated for so long we deserved them together now. But part of me also knows these writers suck so I’m expecting the worst. I just wanted edser together again 😭

You and me both, babe. You and me both.

In the meantime, lets remember to enjoy this show while it lasts. And if we can’t enjoy the plot, as I said above, let’s think about the things we can enjoy. So if in this episode there are a dozen great Edser scenes and then one that rips out our hearts... let’s concentrate on the dozen, okay? The one that rips out our hearts will resolve itself soon enough.

#Sen Çal Kapımı #Sen Cal Kapimi #Edser #sck speculation #sck 1x36 #sck discussion #sckask #asklizac #anonymous

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cadomoisspokenfor · 3 years

Text

Legion Rewatch Notes,

Chapter 7:

The King In Yellow

Walter’s really putting his all into that whistling.

Kerry ended up losing Walter eventually. But I guess she was chased out of her hiding place by the zombies.

Theory: Much like how David feels most stable and confident when Syd’s around, Kerry feels most stable and confident when Cary’s around. She’s much less likely to lose a fight or get scared if Cary is in the vicinity. This would also explain why she feels so betrayed that Cary left her in Mental Clockworks. She works best when he’s around (power of love and all that) so when he’s not around she constantly feels like she’s on the ropes. Maybe only subconsciously though.

Lenny says “Hey” a lot.

So Farouk... actually seems distressed here. This is him at his least chill. He’s just shoved a person he actually cares about into a corner of their mind cause he just couldn’t understand them, the dream he’s created is collapsing and he has no plan on how to deal with it (rare for Farouk), and the location of his own body (his temple) is still lost to him after all this time.

Also, there’s apparently no specific place it could be. Farouk’s body could be anywhere on the globe. I guess he and everyone who knows about is aware that he could come back to his body if he knows where it is?

Even though it’s pointed out a lot I’ll also note that Charles is in his wheelchair in Amy’s flashback. And given future/past events (confusing, I know) this either means Farouk is the one who put him in a wheelchair, or whatever caused it happened between defeating Farouk and giving away baby David. And there’s... really not a lot of time in between those 2 events.

As we’ve seen before, while Farouk can probably see into Oliver’s ice cube residents, he can’t actually go inside or do anything to Oliver (or his guest) while he’s in there.

Farouk doesn’t want the dream to end until he’s located his body.

Cary is used to finishing Oliver’s sentences.

Cary and Oliver think very alike. The biggest difference between them I suppose is Oliver’s reality bending powers.

David never agreed to the barbershop quartet but Oliver put his name down anyways.

I never caught this before, but the thing that makes it obvious to Cary is the fact that the parasite called itself “King”. Before when watching this I thought “it’s just a name,” but I guess the point is... what other villain would be so hubris filled as to advertise who they are so openly. It speaks to the brazenness of Farouk. If Charles had ever checked back and found out David was talking to some invisible friend named “King” Farouk woulda been discovered then and there. I can only assume this means the name “King” was taunt of sorts. A joke only Farouk was in on. Not to mention, Farouk probably would never have settled for a name any less dignifying.

Oliver doesn’t remember any of his past friends, but he does remember Farouk. I wonder, did him and Cary hear about Farouk before or after Charles defeated him? Farouk hasn’t been publicly doing things for 30 years, and the only event that could reasonably be linked to him is Meiser Sunday. If they knew about him before Charles defeated him then that would just speak to his prolificness as a villain, I guess. “The Shadow King”, an unstoppable force for years until a random prodigy mutant gets him on his first try... or so they thought. I believe that’s how it happened in the comics too.

I’ll also note, Charles is an important figure in the mutant community, but it shouldn’t be discounted that the mutant community still existed and had a whole rich history before Charles even stepped on the scene. It seems like either Xaviers School doesn’t exist in this timeline, or they just don’t know about it. And given that, Summerland seemingly founded itself off the same general ideas of the Xavier School, but completely independently. Like 2 people coming up with the same idea on different sides of the planet.

Farouk’s weakness as Oliver puts it is, “He puts all of his energy into tricking David. Didn’t think to watch his six.” I wonder... is this a consistent weakness of Farouk’s? Could this be what Oliver means when he says he found his weakness in s2?

Oliver admits Farouk is too powerful for him. It’s not like he’s one to have a power complex, but it is interesting how shameless he is about it. He doesn’t really philosophize about that kind of thing, he’s matter of fact about it. Farouk’s got more measurable power than me, we need to find another way around him. He also notes though that *David* could defeat Farouk if need be. Everyone recognizes David as the top of the food chain.

Small note: I guess this is how it works between omega lvls. Always thinking of ways around each others raw abilities. Farouk knows David is too strong for him in s2, so he finds away around it. David knows he might not be able to hold out against Farouk’s built up experience, so he finds away around it. Brains over brawn every time, it would seem.

Cary feels really really bad for David. Seeing him screaming his brains out in a locked box knowing full well how much David hates small space. It’s very sweet. But also, 2 episodes Cary seemed a bit more standoffish about David. Knowing what he knows now recontextualized all those past events. David is a victim of something incomprehensibly terrible. He sees that now.

My boi Dan’s gonna need a lozenge after this one.

“We’re gonna need everybody.” They never get Ptonomy :/

I didn’t pick up on any of the other times, but Syd’s job here is to be a distraction. Sure, she has to protect the others in the process, but freeing them from the dream is the job of Cary, Oliver, and Melanie.

Still though, David is the victim who needs help here. He’s not the hero who saves them, he’s the one in need of saving. And Syd takes charge in the plan to do so and is tasked with protecting the others, making her once again closer to the hero archetype than David is. In the moment at least.

Syd’s talking fast cause they don’t exactly have all the time in the world here.

The zombies vanish but the architecture remains. There are “degrees” of real in the astral plane.

“Just thought it’d be interesting.” She’s over the whole “jumpscare haunted house” thing by now.

Silly me, the Melanie scene took place after Cary went to gather people. So it’s definitely Cary in the suit.

Melanie’s glad to see he’s back but she’s not completely love struck. Probably both cause he doesn’t remember her, and cause lovestruck Melanie was a result of her mind being altered to fit the delusion. Cary is guiding them out of the delusion so she’s back to her old self basically. Rational, and concerned with the mission.

This isn’t important, I just like how Melanie wakes him up here. It’s sweet, and bitter, cause it’s too late for him anyways.

Why does Farouk simulate this whole process for Rudy? What’s the use in tricking him if he already can barely do anything? We know Rudy gets him eventually, but it’s just surprising that Farouk recognizes him as being a potential threat.

Cary neglected to inform Syd who else he was personally waking.

Is Walter seeing the zombies too? Unclear. But he’s less chill about his tormenting now.

David starts using humor to cope. From what we’ve seen he’s been non-stop screaming for a while. It seems like he stops panicking as much specifically because his mind is fracturing to help him cope.

His first alter (that we see). Rational Mind.

RM says the coffin is just an “idea.” Very specific word choice there.

Rm tells him to forget all the “lies” he learned in memory work and the MRI. That was all Summerland stuff, though. “It’s your mind.” Essentially, trust yourself. You know who you are, don’t let anyone else tell you otherwise. Not even your new friends. Very reminiscent of, “You decide what is real and what is not.”

David doesn’t want to call his adoptive parents his parents anymore.

David’s happy to finally contextualize Farouk as a mutant and not a mental illness. It all starts making since to him, his whole life.

RM’s the first one to say “boohoo,” and it’s in response to David’s sadness over his bio-parents giving him away.

“I am pretty, I am loved.” “Good, keep going.” This mindset David’s falling into is specifically encouraged by his alters. In fact, it’s RM that pushes him down this path in the first place. David (non-Shadow King possessed David) has been avoiding this thought all season.

David’s a bit wrong here, and I think the difference tells us something important. David assumes Farouk possessed him after he was already living in the Haller’s house. But, we know it seemingly happened before Charles even got back from Morocco. So, given that Gabrielle’s mental health was already bad from post-partum depression (alternatively, it’s just the depression she already had) and Charles leaving her alone to go to Morocco, Farouk coming in and haunting the house probably sent things over the edge. David was most likely given away because Gabrielle wasn’t well enough to care for him like he needed, and Charles... 🤷🏾‍♀️ tbh. Might just’ve not wanted to raise David without Gabrielle. They both said they didn’t ant him to turn out like them. In s3 it’s made to seem like the house haunting was a combination of David and Farouk. David’s haunting time travelly presence probably made things worse, but Farouk would’ve gotten to the baby much sooner if not for him, and without David in the way Farouk probably would’ve upped his own intentional torments. The goal was revenge after all.

David assumes Farouk’s goal is revenge upon the whole world. Makes sense since that’s what Farouk’d been encouraging David to all season. And what he’ll continue to encourage him towards throughout s2 & 3.

Syd “woke him up.” She makes him more stable and sane. She grounds him in reality.

“I was sick, but I’m not sick anymore.” A moment of quiet deliberation with his alter and then he awakens with newfound confidence and a plan. This will repeat in a very tragic way later on.

Kerry, Syd, and a damaged comrade in a wheelchair. If I had nickel for every time this happens I’d have 2 nickels. Very weird it happens twice. Unless... mental clockworks and the end of s3 are supposed to parallel each other.

I assume the astral-plane diving suit protects whoever’s wearing it from psychic threats, much like the ice cube. At the moment, no one’s wearing it.

Sometimes psychics powers require a bit of miming to manifest. Oliver can’t just wave his hand and make a shield, not a strong enough one at least. Similarly, Farouk can’t just expand his mind into the future, he needs to go through a whole time machine building process in the astral plane.

Cary and Melanie seeing Walter get killed must hit hard for them considering he used to be a student of theirs. Sure, he turned against them, but still...

They juxtapose Walter dying with Rudy fully waking up. I wonder if that means it was his powers that were keeping Rudy docile and not necessarily the stab wound.

David is the one that wakes them all up, destroys the dream, and puts them back in their real bodies. And just in time for Cary to place the halo on his head. This is I think the first time David does a real act of super-heroism. The only potential one previously is saving Amy and he wasn’t really the one in control there. This is his first win against Farouk.

David’s not only got control of his powers, but control of himself for the first time, too. And it’s to the point where he’s perceiving things at lightning speeds and moving fast enough to catch bullets. Along with whatever power he’s using to halt the bullets momentum too. For now at least, this is our hero.

They play sinister music whenever he does the bright white light teleport. He does it again at the end of s2. Is it a specific kind of teleport, or is he just adding flair?

David didn’t teleport them directly to the base.

Kerry sadly looks at Rudy’s body.

Melanie looked around for Oliver but in doing so missed him meeting up with the others.

Everyone’s relaxing after their long fought for victory. David and Syd seem really happy. They find Oliver funny/charming.

When Cary’s talking to Kerry, in the background I can barely make out everyone else talking about potatoes.

David’s fine with Amy apologizing, just not in front of the others.

Instead of “The Poor Woodcutter and His Wife” Oliver calls it the “The story of The Lady and the Crane.”

Farouk doesn’t like small spaces either. Ha.

#legion fx

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meta-squash · 3 years

Text

Brick Club 1.5.10 “Outcome Of The Success”

It’s long, I’m sorry. There’s just so much in this chapter!

The chapter’s first paragraph is a description of the misery of winter weather, bookended by sentences about Fantine. It’s been nearly a year since she was fired. The bit about winter is a description of Fantine’s descent as well as the weather. Winter brings short days which means less work; Fantine’s position in society means she’s finding less work as well because she is essentially freelancing rather than working for an employer with steady jobs. “No heat, no light, no noon, evening touches morning” is such a good description of the way everything is miserable and just blurs together when you’re trying to just stay alive. All the awful stuff is sharp and dull at the same time. “Winter changes into stone the water of heaven and the heart of man.” Fantine is starting to harden here; we see her become more shameless, tougher.

Fantine wears a cap after cutting her hair “so she was still pretty.” And this disappears so rapidly in this chapter. Her beauty is so important. Fantine is the only character aside from Enjolras who is repeatedly described as beautiful in a way that seems to really matter. (Cosette is also beautiful, but that description is almost entirely through Marius’ POV, rather than from a more general POV with Fantine.) The slow destruction of Fantines beauty--the discarding of her pretty clothes for peasant ones, her frequent tears, the loss of her hair and teeth, the torn and threadbare clothing--mirrors her social destruction. She desperately clings to her beauty by wearing a cap, but she obviously gives up pretty soon.

What fascinates me here is that Hugo mentions that Fantine admired Madeleine, like everyone else, but he also implies that she didn’t hate him straight away for her dismissal. In the previous chapters, her reaction is to accept the dismissal as a “just” decision. She works up her hatred by repeatedly telling herself it was his fault. It seems as though she lands on the right conclusion in the wrong way. She blames herself first, and only through gradually convincing herself does she start to blame Madeleine. He and his crap system are the ones to blame, but she comes to that conclusion in a roundabout way that feels like she still blames herself but is trying not to. Fantine has been a scapegoat for everyone up until now; Madeleine has become her scapegoat to avoid (incorrectly) blaming herself.

“If she passed the factory when the workers were at the door, she would force herself to laugh and sing.” She’s trying so hard to make them think they haven’t gotten to her, but it just makes it so much more obvious. The laughter and singing is the “wrong” reaction, and it makes everyone notice her even more, and judge her even harder. It’s just so sad because I can understand that behavior of trying so hard to act the opposite way of how you think people will expect you to, only it backfires and makes your true feelings all the more apparent, which gives even more fuel to the cruel people.

Fantine takes a lover out of spite, “a man she did not love.” There are a few things here that contrast with the grisettes of 1.3. This lover is someone Fantine does not love, her first relationship since losing Tholomyes, who she was in love with. The man is also a street musician, which reminds me of Favourite’s actor/choir boy. The difference being that Favourite’s boy had at least some connections through his father, and Fantine’s lover is only a street musician. Fantine takes this lover in for the same reason that she sings and laughs outside the factory: to try and show that she’s unaffected, which really only serves to do the opposite. She has this affair “with rage in her heart,” which seems to be the only emotion left for her for anyone besides Cosette (and maybe Marguerite).

“She worshiped Cosette.” My only comment here is that this is something that Valjean will later echo. Both worship and adore Cosette as a point of light, something to cling to and love and care for.

Okay maybe I’m missing something here, but Fantine can read but she can’t write? This is probably my “been good at reading/writing my whole life” privilege talking, but wouldn’t she be able to write if she could read? I suppose maybe it’s like how I can look at numbers and understand the numbers but I can’t do math for shit? I don’t know. That just caught my eye.

Fantine is starting to lose her inhibitions as she begins to lose control of everything in her life. She’s laughing and singing and running and jumping around outside in public, she’s acting loud and brash and odd. Her reactions to her misfortune and the terrible things that keep happening express the “wrong” emotion. It’s an attempt to cope, and a courageous one, but it’s drastically different from the quiet Fantine who barely spoke that we were introduced to.

“Two Napoleons!” grumbled a toothless old hag who stood by. “She’s the lucky one!”

This line really struck me. We’ve been tunnel-visioned on Fantine’s misery this whole time. Suddenly the focus pulls back a little bit and we get a little bit of perspective. Fantine is not at rock bottom yet. She could still go so much lower. To this toothless old woman, she’s lucky because she’s pretty and because her teeth have worth. Fantine is poor, and cold, and worried about her kid, and most of the town laugh at or scorn her, and yet this old woman still thinks she’s the lucky one of the two of them. It’s a much more subtle commentary on the levels of poverty and abjectness that exist. Once you’ve fallen through the cracks in society to the level of homelessness, to the level of selling your teeth and hair and body, to complete aloneness, anyone who has even a scrap more than you seems “lucky.” And Fantine’s not too far from that existence.

The conversation between Marguerite and Fantine about military fever is so weird. Is Marguerite just saying stuff? This dialogue sounds like a conversation between two people who have no idea what they’re talking about. It’s like those scenes in comedies where one person pretends to be super confident about something to impress the other even though both of them are completely wrong. Oh okay wait! I just did some googling and I’ve realized that neither of them know what they’re talking about because Thenardier did his bad spelling thing! “Miliary fever” is an old medical term for an infection that causes fevers and bumpy skin rashes. (Mozart’s death is attributed to it; it seems to have fallen out of use as it became easier to pinpoint certain illnesses.) I think this isn’t just Marguerite not knowing what she’s talking about. This is a misunderstanding due to Thenardier’s misspelling (whether deliberate or not, I don’t know) and neither Marguerite nor Fantine know enough to realize it.

ETA: Okay wow I’m keeping that whole “miliary fever” thought journey in just to record my thought process but I’ve just double-checked against the Hapgood translation and the original French, and the mistake isn’t with the Thenardiers at all! It’s entirely the fault of the translators. The original French says “miliare” and Hapgood has translated it as “miliary”; Fahnestock and MacAfee clearly did not notice that the French was “miliare” and not “militaire,” and neither did their editors.

“During the night Fantine had grown ten years older.” Off the top of my head, I can only think of three instances of not-old people being blatantly described as looking old. This description here, Valjean when he returns from Arras, and Eponine. There are probably more I’m missing, but the connecting factor between these three is severe, prolonged trauma. Trauma and a difficult life can prematurely age people (I always think of that Dorothea Lange photo of the migrant mother who was only 32 but looks 50) and Hugo uses this fact to bolster his descriptions of what they go through. But Fantine and Valjean both age almost suddenly; Eponine is already old-looking the first time we meet her as a character with dialogue. Fantine’s sudden aging is another level of departure from her old life. In Paris, she was the youngest of the group, and now she looks far older than she is.

“Actually, the Thenardiers had lied to get her to get the money. Cosette was not sick at all.” As readers, we know this. We’ve seen the Thenardiers lie over and over and we see Fantine sacrifice with no idea. But this one hits harder than the others. Partly, I think, because Hugo puts it so bluntly in a sentence that has its own paragraph. But also because this is the first sacrifice that is truly unalterable. Fantine’s hair can grow back. There may have eventually been some slim chance of a job opportunity or something coming up somehow, or an influx of things needing mending or something. But she cannot regain her teeth. This is also the first sacrifice that physically disfigures her in a visible way. She can hide her lack of hair under a cap, she can hide her lack of money by using and reusing things. She cannot hide her missing teeth.

It’s interesting that we do not hear about Mme Victurnien here. Rather than the last chapter, this would be the one where Victurnien would be “winning.” The consequences of Victurnien’s actions have now permanently affected Fantine’s life. Except I think the reason we don’t see her here is that she wouldn’t face it. She can look out her window at Fantine walking down the street in distress with her beauty intact and feel satisfaction, but if she saw Fantine walking down the street, toothless and hairless, I don’t think she would feel satisfaction, because she wouldn’t be able to connect her actions to this Fantine. Feeling satisfaction towards this level of misery would require acknowledging her participation in causing it. It’s one thing for the townspeople to laugh at or gawk at her, but I think claiming responsibility for her condition is something else altogether that I’m not sure Mme Victurnien would do.

Fantine throwing her mirror out the window is a strange sort of contrast compared to Eponine’s reaction to a mirror. Fantine cannot face her descent. Eponine is already there, and her excitement at Marius’ mirror is a weird sort of distracted examination of herself. Fantine cannot bear to examine herself because unlike Eponine, she can remember what it was like before this. Tossing away the mirror is tossing away the thoughts of her past life and her past self; she can’t ever go back to that.

“The poor cannot go to the far end of their rooms or to the far end of their lives, except by continually bending more and more.”

God I don’t really even know what to say about this line except ouch. It’s just so poignant and intense. The older you get the harder it is to survive, to get up with each new stumble. And we can also take into account things like the cholera epidemic that will occur a few years later in the book, which mostly affected the poor. There’s so little access to any sort of help or assistance. And clearly Valjean’s few little systems of aid aren’t good enough. He may have set up a worker’s infirmary and a place for children or old workmen, but there doesn’t seem to be assistance for single, unsupported women, or the homeless and unemployed. They’re left to bend more and more under the weight of life.

“Her little rose bush dried up in the corner, forgotten.” I can’t help but read this as a parallel to the Thenardier’s treatment of Cosette. As Fantine falls apart and falls behind on her payments, Cosette is growing up which means the abuse from the Thenardiers has probably increased. It also feels like a weird sort of throwback to the spring/summertime imagery of beauty and chasteness and modesty from back in 1.3, which has now completely disappeared and dried up as Fantine loses her beauty, her modesty, and her coquetry.

I love the little detail about Fantine’s butter bell full of water and the frozen ice marks. It’s such a small detail but so evocative. It also feels like a metaphor for each of Fantine’s new hardships. Every time the butter pot freezes over, it leaves a ring of ice for a long time; each time Fantine encounters a new trauma, she hardens and becomes tougher. She keeps her dried up, long gone modesty and youth in one corner and the suffering that has hardened her in the other. On a side note, I’m wondering if there is actually butter in her butter bell or if she’s now using it only for water? I would imagine water only; butter seems like something that might be expensive. Also, would the building she’s living in have had indoor plumbing, or would she have gotten water from a well or a pump somewhere? My plumbing history knowledge is lacking.

Hugo describes Fantine’s torn and badly mended clothes. At this point she’s working as a seamstress, which means she’s at least proficient in the skills needed to sew and/or mend clothes in such a way that they stay together. This means that the repairs done for herself are likely careless and messy. I think this is partly an indication of how little time she has for herself--if she’s sewing for work for 17 hours a day, she has very little time to mend her own stuff, and definitely can’t afford better quality material--and partly an indication of the ways in which she is falling apart. She doesn’t bother mending her things properly, she goes out in dirty clothes. She doesn’t mend her stockings, she just stuffs them further down in her shoes. It seems she has only one or perhaps no good petticoats, which means she’s probably walking around in just a shift and a dress. Not only is her stuff threadbare and falling apart, she’s also probably freezing due to the lack of layers.

“A constant pain in her shoulder near the top of her left shoulder blade.” This makes me wonder if Fantine’s left-handed. If she’s sewing by hand, by candlelight, in a shitty rush chair, for seventeen hours a day, that is absolute murder on the back/shoulders/neck. Whenever I do hand-sewing I’m usually sat on the floor or my bed, and my back and upper shoulders tend to get sore if I get in the zone and I’m bent over the work for a long time. I don’t know about French dressmakers, but I know around that time the English were really big on very small, neat, almost invisible stitches. Which would hurt to do for seventeen hours a day by candlelight.

“She hated Father Madeleine profoundly, and she never complained.” The Hapgood translation of this line is better, I think. Still, I think it’s important that it’s pointed out that she never voices her opinions or her complaints. It’s only when Madeleine is in front of her that she announces them at all (despite not speaking directly to him then, either). She hates Valjean, she blames him, and yet obviously some part of her still thinks that she deserves it, or that her dismissal was right.

“She sewed seventeen hours a day, but a contractor who was using prison labor suddenly cut the price, and this reduced the day’s wages of free-laborers to nine sous.” Reading this book is always a lot because aside from the still-relevant general overarching commentary about society and poverty and mutual aid and goodness and all that, there are so many smaller details that are so painfully, strangely relevant to the present day. Even today there’s fear that employers will come up with a new policy or a new labor shortcut that means less income. Employers who pay their employees less because the workers get tipped, or outsourcing that causes layoffs. Prison labor, too (and behind that, the fact that prison labor doesn’t guarantee a job in a similar field after release if desired).

In the next two chapters, we jump ahead somewhere between a few weeks to a couple months. What happened to Marguerite in the interim? Hugo describes her as a “pious woman [...] of genuine devotion,” but I have this sad thought that maybe when Fantine made the decision to become a sex worker, Marguerite may have turned her back on her as well. As we’ve seen with Valjean, being poor but modest is Good, and being poor and desperate enough to do something improper and “immoral” is Bad. Despite Marguerite’s canonical generosity towards the poor, I wouldn’t be surprised if Fantine’s decision overstepped some moral boundaries of hers.

“But where is there a way to earn a hundred sous a day?” I’m a little stuck on this. Would she make this much money? I’m basing the following information off of Luc Sante’s The Other Paris, so the monetary info might be slightly different a for non-Parisian area. According to Sante, someone like Fantine, a poor woman working without a pimp or madame and not in a legal brothel, would basically be working for pocket change. 100 sous would equal about 5 francs. If her earnings are basically pocket change, I don’t think she’d make 5 francs a day. Just considering the fact that a loaf of bread might cost about 15 sous, which seems like pocket change, or even slightly more than pocket change. Fantine probably becomes a sex worker and finds herself in the exact same position that she was in before, not making any more money than she would have if she had continued to be a seamstress.

#les miserables #les miserables meta #brickclub #lm 1.5.10 #les mis #les mis meta

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spacebatisluvd · 4 years

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I wrote a sequel to “Autonomic Responses”, and it looks like it’s going to be an on-going series. Eventually, there’s probably going to be some actual smut, which I will not be posting here because this blog is (by and large) safe for work.

If it was just going to be a straight smut fic, I probably wouldn’t have mentioned it here at all, but as it is, it looks like nonsexual intimacy is going to be a huge element of the fic, as well as Entrapta trying to give her spacebat nice things even if he drags his feet the whole time. Okay, with that out of the way:

Summary: Entrapta provides a more compelling reason for her study.

Content warning: Light nudity. Self-esteem issues. Very mild bondage and dom/sub undertones. Chemical castration (that sounds super dark, but it’s a choice; it’s not being forced on anyone).

Hordak glanced over his shoulder at Kadroh and Entrapta. He was not jealous. At all. That was a useless emotion and he was above it.

He was just...irritated. He was trying to work, and Kadroh had come bounding in, shouting and giggling. Now, he was pulling off his shirt —Hordak was not jealous of the unblemished expanse of deep cobalt skin or his perfect physique, untouched by illness—and babbling in excitement as he modeled the various clothing items he’d picked up at the market. Entrapta oohed and awed over everything, admiring him as he preened and posed for her.

Hordak’s ears pressed flat, and he pretended to be preoccupied by his plans for rebuilding Salineas, but he’d read the same sentence at least three times without the slightest comprehension. He needed to leave them to themselves, if he wanted to make any progress, yet he remained, slowly growing more and more irritated with himself. They were entitled to their fun, and he should let them enjoy themselves without hovering.

Just as he finally convinced himself to leave and let them be happy without him around to spoil things, Kadroh finished his mock fashion show and bounded back out of the room, off to bother the chefs for tiny snacks. Hordak shook his head, his ears relaxing a little. Finally! Maybe now he could get some work done.

Except....

Entrapta now turned her attention on him. She was standing on her hair behind him, leaning close. He turned to look at her, feeling her breath on his ear. “Hordak, maybe we should go shopping for you sometime.”

“I have an adequate amount of clothing.” Shortly after arriving in Dryl, he’d commissioned a few dresses for himself. The cut was essentially the same as his old uniform, but now he bore Dryl’s sigil on his chest rather than the Horde sigil.

“Okay, but....” She pursed her mouth, trying to decide how best to explain. “Do these clothes make you feel good about yourself? Do you enjoy wearing them?”

He set down the tablet, lowering his ears as he looked at her. Mostly because he was confused. “They fulfill their purpose.”

She gave him a look he was coming to recognize—she was plotting something. He tensed a little. Entrapta seemed intent on subjecting him to new things and new experiences, insisting that they find things that he ‘enjoyed’.

For reasons unknown to him, she seemed to be collecting this information so that she could use it on him. He wasn’t complaining—it was nice when she brought him a mug of cocoa in the morning, or when she asked her chefs to prepare the little fruit tarts that he and Kadroh enjoyed so much. He trusted her implicitly, but he still found the experiences unnerving. More so because he couldn’t quite understand why she was so intent on collecting this information. He was already happier than he’d ever been, just being with her in Dryl. Wanting anything more seemed absurd. Unreasonable.

Kadroh, perhaps, deserved to be treated to such things, but Hordak?

Whatever he thought he deserved, though, he could tell by the look in her eye that they’d be going shopping soon, despite the feeble protests he might raise. She didn’t say anything about it, though, likely intent on planning more fully before submitting him to her plot. “Okay! As long as you’re comfortable,” she said casually.

He was not fooled. “I am. Comfortable. Very comfortable.”

Her smile was brilliant. “I’m glad! What are you working on?”

He released the breath he’d been holding. This was more familiar territory. He was more sure of himself, more confident. Turning back to the desk, he pressed his fingers to the surface, manipulating the screen so an enlarged view of the blueprints was visible. “Rebuilding Salineas. I was thinking about installing a desalination plant here.” He pointed and spread his fingers to focus on it. “With that and an irrigation system—“

“The inland villages wouldn’t be as susceptible to drought.”

“Exactly.”

“And with the tides....”

He nodded, a smug smile tugging at his mouth. “Yes; I believe we should be able to use that to generate energy. An electrical grid could revolutionize their way of life.” He lost his smug expression, leaning forward. His ears drew down and he folded his hands in front of him. “Of course, Mermista is skeptical of my intentions. Or my abilities. I’m not entirely sure which.”

She was very close now, nearly leaning on him so she could look over his shoulder. “She’ll come around. You just have to prove yourself to her.”

“Hmph. They tell me to make up for my wrongdoings by rebuilding what I helped destroy. Yet before I do, I must prove myself trustworthy. But in order to do that, I must help them rebuild. Their logic gives me a headache.”

“Yeah, I know.” She reached up to run her fingers through his hair. It seemed like an absent-minded gesture, but his whole being fixated on the feeling. “I had to prove myself when I rejoined the alliance too. It was hard, at first.” He shut his eyes, trying to pay attention to her words, but it was hard with her hand in his hair, scritching lightly at his scalp. “But they’re really nice once you get to know them.”

His ears started to droop, and he definitely wasn’t thinking about Salineas or the princess alliance anymore. His heart rate slowed and he allowed Entrapta to lift his chin. I t was only when he opened his eyes to see her studying him through her welding mask that he started to come back to himself. “Hmmm. Your hair isn’t cresting. Am I doing this right?”

He shook his head, trying to shrug off his strange placidity. “Are you experimenting on me again?”

“Maybe.” She lifted the mask. “Is that okay?”

“I am surprised you’d find me interesting enough to experiment with.”

“Hordak, you’re an alien! A bionic alien! Why wouldn’t I be interested?”

He glanced at the door. “Kadroh would be a better subject. He doesn’t have my defects. He would provide you with more accurate information on my species. Any data you collect from me would be flawed.”

“But you’re my lab partner! I don’t want to experiment like this with anyone else. Just you.”

He blinked, ears twitching. “I...see.”

“Do you?” He hesitated, not sure how to answer that. Her hands cupped his face, holding him steady as she looked down at him. His head was still tilted back, and she stood behind him, her features upside-down in his view. “Hordak, have you thought about continuing our exploration of your autonomic responses to tactile stimulation?”

He swallowed, and a rope of her hair curled loosely around his throat. Not a threat. Never that. But it made him more conscious of his pulse-points, his rising heartbeat. “I have. But.” Having her so close was suddenly overwhelming. He pushed the rope of hair away and stood, walking toward the window so he could at least pretend to look outside. He clasped his hands behind his back, legs flexing as he tried not to rock on his toes. “I synthesized the hormone cocktail that Prime used to keep his clones from becoming...distracted. I’ve been taking it.” One hand clenched tight around his other wrist.

“Oh! Is that why your hair isn’t reacting?”

He glanced over his shoulder, looking her over. Her gaze was intent, but her hair was wrapped around anything close at hand—the chair, the table leg, her own arms. She was holding herself back to give him the space he needed. Something inside him unclenched, and he turned from the window to face her fully. “Indeed. So I’m not sure that any further experiments would provide you with any useful data. As I said, Kadroh would be a much better subject for you.”

Her hair tightened. “Can I show you something?”

He cocked his head. “I’m not sure why you feel the need to ask. I am always interested in whatever—“ One rope of hair wrapped around his wrist and tugged him from the room. She was not quite running, but her pace was urgent and he had to walk briskly to keep up. “Where are we going?”

“Somewhere private.”

With that, she pulled open a door and pushed him inside, shutting it behind her. A thread of hair locked the door as she walked past him, hopping on one foot as she tried to take her work boots off. Before he could offer assistance, she lifted herself on her hair and curled her legs up to her hands so she could get her boots off. She tossed them aside, swiftly followed by her socks. Only when she unclasped her overalls did he start to become alarmed. “What are you doing?”

“Showing you my defects.”

The top of her overalls fell to her waist and she immediately started to shimmy out of them. He watched for a moment, baffled. “You do not have—“

“Hordak, I’m not perfect. Neither are you. Neither is Kadroh or anyone else. And it’s okay!” She dropped her overalls and tugged off her shirt as her hair deposited her safely on the ground. “Look—“ She stood before him in her underwear, arms and legs star-fished to showcase her whole body. “I am short.”

“Your stature is—“

A rope of hair pressed to his mouth, silencing him. “Hush. As I was saying; my body-type is ‘unfashionable’.” Her eyes lowered for just a moment. One hand pressed to her stomach, pinching the place that pouched out with subcutaneous fat. His shoulders tensed and he strode forward, not liking the way she did that at all, but her hair dropped to his chest, pushing him back. “And look—“ she held her arms out in front of her, showing him the shiny scar tissue that covered her arms and much of her hands. “I have scarring on my arms and hands. They aren’t even cool scars, either—I just burned myself in a lab accident.” She laughed a little self-deprecatingly. “Just smart enough to get myself into trouble, right?”

“Entrapta—“

“Do you think less of me for my defects?”

“Those are not defects! Your body is performing as intended!”

“Imperfections, then. Do you think less of me?”

“That’s absurd! Why would I?”

“Good! And you know I don’t think less of you for yours.” He flinched and looked away, ears drooping a little. He did know that. “So stop trying to push me off on Kadroh. I don’t want to see his autonomic responses. I was to see yours.”

“I was not pushing you off—“ She put her hands on her hips and gave him a look. He cleared his throat and put his hands behind his back, looking at the floor. “It is difficult to understand why you would choose me when there are other—“ He swallowed down the word ‘better’, knowing she would not appreciate the adjective. “—options available.”

“You listen to me when I talk. You understand me. And I like to think that I understand you too.”

His chest swelled. “I have had the depths of my mind plumbed, and yet you understand me better than anyone.”

She smiled broadly, her cheeks pink. “You say things like that. And you mean them.”

“Why would I speak falsely?”

She swallowed and looked away, grabbing a lock of hair and combing her fingers through it. She started to pace, but she seemed to shake herself free of whatever thought had gripped her. She smiled at him again. “I don’t know. People do, though. Lie.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Someone hurt you.”

She seemed to shrug it off, though her hands were still wrapped in her hair. “Everyone gets hurt. Right? I mean...we’ve both hurt people. A lot of people. It happens. Everyone does it. Everyone experiences it at one time or another. It’s all just a matter of degree.” Her gaze went distance. “I wonder if there’s a system of measurement for that....”

He came closer, lifting a hand to offer some comfort. He stopped before he could make contact. “May I touch you?”

“That’s another thing!” she exclaimed, spinning suddenly as her hair took hold of him. She walked him backward, toward the wall, pinning him there. “You understand that I can’t always....” One hand fumbled, as if she could pluck the word she wanted from the air. “Be touched.”

Her hair was wrapped around his upper arms, holding him securely but not tightly. He swallowed, looking down on her. It was not fear that set his hearts hammering and caused something low in his abdomen to tighten. It was something else. Something new.

She raised herself up on her hair so they were at eye level. “Do you see now? Why I want you and not someone else?”

“No. But—!” He swallowed, trying to speak before she could pull away, despite the lump in his throat. “I’m grateful. I may not understand why, but I am glad that you feel for me the same way I feel for you.”

She smiled. “Good.” She reached for his hair, running her fingers through it. “How’s that feel?”

He shut his eyes, pressing into her hand. It was different, now. Somehow, having his hands bound while she pet him was thrilling rather than relaxing. He could feel his scalp prickling, though his hair remained flat. “It’s. Good. Not as overwhelming as it was before.”

“Interesting.” Her hands traced down his scalp until she reached his ears. “Have I ever told you how cute your ears are?”

His ears flexed and his eyes opened wide. “No, you—!” He sputtered. “They are not!”

“No?” she asked, smiling as she ran a thumb over the edge of each ear.

“No.”

“If you say so,” she said in a sing-song. He huffed, feeling his cheeks grow hot. “This is cute too.” She brushed a thumb over his cheek.

“I am not cute!”

“Being a subjective term, I don’t think you get to decide what I do or do not find to be ‘cute’.”

He huffed, unable to refute that. Victorious, she smiled, her hands dropping to his jaw before trailing down his neck to rest on his chest. He wondered if she could feel his hearts beating under her hand. “Can I continue?”

“With what?”

“Exploring your reactions to tactile stimulation.”

His ears flattened. “With the hormones I’m taking, I doubt my reactions will prove titillating.”

“I’m not looking to be titillated. I’m interested in seeing what kind of touches you enjoy. What feels good to you. What you like. It doesn’t have to be sexual to be enjoyable.”

His cheeks were only getting hotter. He swallowed. “I see.”

“Besides,” she added, looking him over, “I would like a basis of comparison, should you ever choose to stop taking them.”

A soft noise escaped him. It definitely didn’t sound anything like a whimper. “Oh.”

“May I proceed?”

His hearts were beating hard, and something inside him squirmed. It was not shame he felt. Not fear. Something adjacent, without the sting of either. Anticipation, perhaps, though it was sharper than that. More intense. He flexed his arms, feeling the strength of her hold on him, and the anticipation peaked.

“Yes.” He swallowed, wondering what he was getting himself into. “Please proceed.”

#entrapdak #hordak #entrapta #wrong hordak #my writing #link #have to use the desktop to make the readmore work #such a pain #but i wasn't comfortable leaving this out in the open on everybody's dash #it needed a readmore

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blxxdyvalentine19xx · 3 years

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I lost my dick 🍆

Mod Sun x Fenix (ftm character)

Warnings: light smut, swearing, mentions of ice dick.

**I almost named myself Fenix when I came out as ftm in high school, I found it cool that Fenix is the name of a character in Downfalls High**

Fenix was frantically searching across every possible space in his boyfriend's house that he could have possibly left his packer. Being neuro divergent and a trans male made for interesting times and weird phrases. "For fucks sake! Where the hell did I leave it this time?" He half growled; looking up when he felt Derek's hands on his shoulders. "What?"

"Take a breath and chill out for a second" Derek ran his hands over Fenix's shoulders lightly and brought his boyfriend into a hug. "What did you loose this time?" He asked softly; carding a hand through his boyfriend's hair.

Swallowing his pride; Fenix shook his head, hiding it in Derek's hoodie. "I lost my dick" he mumbled quietly; slipping his arms around the taller man's neck.

The fact that his boyfriend is transgender excaped his mind, so the sentence caught him of guard "how...what...huh?" His brows furrowed in thought as he tipped Fenix's head up. "How in the hell..." Derek hesitated; "are you high?"

Fenix punched Derek's shoulder lightly; rolling his eyes and grinning. "Not high just trans" he teased; kissing his boyfriend's cheek. "I really don't know where I left it this time" Fenix rarely broke composure enough to ask Derek; asking his boyfriend was a last ditch effort.

"Oh right, you're not cis" Derek smiled as Fenix punched at his shoulder. "Of course you don't" he kissed the man's forehead and thought for a moment. "Did you look in the freezer? You've found it there before." Derek's hand grazed over the small of Fenix's back.

Hanging his head; Fenix sighed and shook his head. "Don't remind me; I still don't know how that happened." He blushed before slipping out of Derek's arms. "But yes, I did check the freezer" even then there was a good chance he probably looked right at it and missed it.

Colson was over at Mod's working on a few songs with his friend when he made a bee line to the freezer after a popsicle. "For God's sake" he said when he looked up; met with a very realistic but silicone looking dick. "Fenix, think I found your dick, buddie" Colson ruffled a hand through his own unruly bleach blonde hair.

Looking up from the piece he was working on; Fenix blinked a few times, his tongue in his cheek as he let go of a defeated groan. "You probably did, I kind of lost it." He mumbled, looking at the rapper. "At least I know where it is now"

Hearing what Colson said; Derek chuckled and smiled. "That seems to be a regular thing now, isn't the first time." He texted out a message to Fenix reading 'leave it, might be of use later 💦'

"Somehow I believe you Mod" Colson shrugged and got himself a blue raspberry popsicle and Mod a green one, he needed a sugar fix and this would have to suffice.

Reading the text his boyfriend sent him; Fenix's eyes drew up towards his boyfriend. Raising an eyebrow; he shook his head flipping Derek the bird. "Maybe, depending on time that is" Fenix grinned as he jumped from the stool he was sat on and went over to Derek. "You dirty little fucker" he mumbled into the man's ear as he ran his hands into Derek's hair.

"Trust when I say I'll make time" Derek hummed; slipping a hand into the back pocket of Fenix's jeans. "Not my fault it feels good taking it up the ass." He mumbled into a kiss and squeezed his boyfriend's ass. "May as well take advantage of the unconventional idea"

Coming back In after a successful day in the studio; Derek smiled as he found Fenix on the couch focused on an episode of 'Shameless'. "Hey" he mumbled; slipping his arms around Fenix's neck from behind.

"Hey Der" he nuzzled close to Derek's arm. "What's up?" Fenix kissed Derek's wrist and looked up at his boyfriend. Pausing the show in the process.

"Mm a little horny" Derek's hand wrapped around his boyfriend's throat as he kissed Fenix. "Mind taking the top tonight?" He asked; nipping at the man's lip.

Mumbling something under his breath; Fenix hummed as Derek's grip tighted a little. "Not at all, baby" he kissed back and cupped the back of Derek's head. "Bedroom" Fenix caught a breath once Derek let go and bit his lip.

He nodded and let go of a breath as Fenix looked at him; the man's blue eyes dark in contrast to usual. Derek had found himself being more comfortable lately with not being as in control and reveled in how Fenix was able to make him love being submissive.

Letting the cold metal ball of his tongue ring dip into Derek's belly button; Fenix grinned as Derek was already writhing under him from being teased. "Barely touched you and you're a sweet mess already, baby"

"C'mere" Derek half whined; kissing Fenix lightly and humming into it as the man looked at him. "Do us both the favour and please fuck me" he mumbled into another kiss and squeezed at Fenix's shoulders as his (Derek's) boyfriend eased into him gently.

Biting back a blush; Fenix had the instinct to hide in his boyfriend's neck as Derek let out a sound between a moan and a hiss.

"No, no, you're not hiding" Derek spoke between a moan and a shiver. "Look at me, right here" he pulled his boyfriend's head back up and grinned as Fenix's cheeks were pink with a blush. "I don't care, you know it's of no difference to me, I love you and can't get enough of how you make me feel"

Feeling Derek's hand return to his neck; fenix nodded and kissed his boyfriend. "I know that" he mumbled and ended up somewhat laughing when Derek effortlessly rocked his hips and pulled him (Fenix) forward. Taking it as a cue to move; Fenix rolled his hips slowly.

Arching his hips; Derek bit his lip letting himself relax and focus on both the cold and the gentle rocking of Fenix's hips. "Fucking hell, yes" his breath shook as Fenix kissed him softly.

Hiding his face in the pillow; Fenix ended up throwing it at Derek as the latter peppered him in kisses and grinned basically praising him. "Not bad for me not being a top" he mumbled and trapped his boyfriend in a cuddle.

"You do alright for being a bottom" Derek kissed Fenix and ran his hand up the his boyfriend's back. "You get in your head too much about not thinking you're enough" he whispered; looking at Fenix who gave him a warning look.

"Force of habit" Fenix whispered back hearing Derek's words. "I always worry about not being enough" he raked his fingers along his boyfriend's chest and sighed. "You're so damned chill about it and I don't know how not to be worried about all the things I know won't happen" Fenix nuzzled close to Derek and smiled as he was pulled upwards so he was laying on top of his boyfriend.

Derek pulled Fenix on top of him and shifted so he was comfortable. "You're more than all that, baby" his hands ghosted the tonic Fenix's thighs. "You make me realize who my own insecurities are small compared to what you go through every day" Derek's finger ghosted the tattoo of what he now realized was the beach they went to on their first official date.

Fenix watched as Derek thumbed the tattoo on his (Fenix's) leg. "Got it after we called it a night, kells did it for me." He smiled and covered his eyes as Derek kissed it. "That's why it has your logo in the middle" Fenix relaxed when Derek looked up at him.

"I recognize my boy's work, he did a good job of it" Derek smiled up at Fenix and slipped a hand under his head. "I like it, you seemed like you felt free that day" he let his messy hair cover his eyes as Fenix's fingers ran through it. "He sees you like a little brother" Derek spoke and stuck his tongue out at his boyfriend. "He threatened to beat my ass if I fucked it up that night"

"He's done a few of mine actually" Fenix said; whilst playing with his boyfriend's hair. "Kells did this one the day I started T" he took Derek's hand and ran one of his boyfriend's finger along his (Fenix's) waist. "He said it's supposed to remind me what it took for me to get that far."

Definitions:

Packer: (silicone penis used by some frm transgender individuals, simillar to a dildo and can be used sexually if so desired)

Neurodivergent: an atypical neurological configuration, for example a person who has a developmental disorder and/or a mental illness.

Cis: cisgendered - someone who is assigned male\female and identifies with their assigned gender.

#mod sun #derek ryan smith #ftm transgender #trans character #mod sun fanfiction #mod sun smut

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ecoamerica · 24 days

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youtube

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artificialqueens · 4 years

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Stupid For You, Chapter 4 (Crygi, Jankie, Jaida x Nicky) - Metaluna

summary: Jackie has to address her actions from the party, while Gigi has to process feelings she’d rather not. Also, if you aren’t familiar with speaking on radios, 10-4 means affirmative.

Gigi spent the rest of the day in bed. After crying until her eyes were red and puffy, she sat in bed trying to process everything. Crystal had a boyfriend. A boyfriend. When she shut her eyes, all she could see was the blonde boy and Crystal kissing. All Gigi could do was think about their relationship. How did they meet? Who asked who out? Have they slept together? Were they in love? Was it serious? She then pictured them doing gross romantic couple things. The thought of Crystal and that boy going to a pumpkin patch and picking out a pumpkin while sharing hot apple cider made her heart sink. Gigi pictured the two of them at prom, his tux matching her dress, dancing the night away. After breaking her heart with more scenarios, she forced herself to stop thinking so hard about it.

No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t stop thinking about the night before. Gigi thought about how beautiful and carefree Crystal looked… She thought about the way her face lit up when she won beer pong. She started thinking about the two of them dancing… The way Crystal’s hips swayed against her… Gigi’s mind wandered to when Crystal changed in front of her.

Never had Gigi Goode seen anyone’s bare chest but her own. She bit her lip as she pictured Crystal topless, while stroking her own breast, while her other hand trailed downward… She knew it was a bad idea, so she forced herself to stop. Gigi sat up in bed, trying desperately to clear her head.

Her next thoughts were about Crystal’s sexuality. Was she straight? With the way that she acted around her, Gigi was almost certain that she wasn’t. There was no way. But what if she was? What if she was reaching, and everything Crystal did was completely reasonable for a friend to do?

Back when Nora lived at home, Gigi watched her older sister get her heartbroken many times. Nora, much like Jaida, got extremely invested extremely quickly. One time when she was fourteen and Nora was eighteen, Gigi watched her big sister cry over some boy on the debate team. It had been the second time that month. Gigi, who had finally had enough told her sister to stop being so stupid for him.

Now she was trying to tell herself to stop being so stupid for Crystal. Four years later, Gigi understood that her words were much easier said than done.

Gigi just hoped to God that she would be able to keep it together the next morning.

“Hello, my love!” Crystal said cheerfully handing an extremely unenthused Gigi a coffee mug.

Gigi forced herself to snap out of it. It’s not like Crystal was shattering her heart into a million pieces and then torching them on purpose.

Crystal looked at Gigi. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. I’m just tired.”

“Gotcha. I feel you. Me and Ryan went hiking yesterday. Hiking isn’t fun hungover. It’s not very much fun to begin with, but especially not when you’re hungover, but I promised him I’d go.”

This was her chance. “I didn’t know you even had a boyfriend.”

“Yeah! We’ve been together since freshman year of high school. I guess I’m just not the type of person to gush about her boyfriend.”

“That’s so… sweet,” Gigi managed through gritted teeth.

“I really love him. This is so lame, but we won homecoming king and queen.”

“Awe, cute.” Gigi could hear her the insincerity dripping from her voice. Thankfully Crystal couldn’t.

“He’s really the best. I think you guys would get along really well.”

Yeah, right.

Gigi hesitated. “Why don’t you ever post pictures with him?” Because of the many nights spent stalking Crystal’s social media, if there was any mention of a boyfriend, she would have known.

“Honestly?” Crystal began. “He doesn’t really like to take pictures. He’s very anti-social media. Ryan is low key a conspiracy theorist. Almost every day he tells me to delete my social media because now North Korea has my information or something.”

“That’s so… interesting.”

What about you, do you have a boyfriend?”

“Nope.”

“Did you just not want one or…”

Gigi trusted Crystal, but didn’t trust her enough to tell her everything about her. Not yet. “I think that I’m afraid to let people in.”

“Really?”

She sighed. “Ever since my dad, I’ve had a hard time trusting anyone. Abandonment issues and shit.”

“I am so sorry.”

“I guess I just look at as what’s the point of dating if they’re just going to leave anyway?”

Crystal held her hand on top of Gigi’s and looked at her with a face full of sincerity. “I’ll never leave you.”

“Thank you,” Gigi managed in just above a whisper.

“You know too much about me. I like you, and really don’t want to have to kill you.”

—

Jackie was one to always be on time. However, she was not one to be an extra half an hour early. But, she knew that Jan was opening, and aimed to avoid the blonde at all costs. Unfortunately for Jackie, when opening her locker, she saw blonde hair and a purple backpack out of the corner of her eye. As much as she hoped she wouldn’t, Jan made her way over.

“Jackie, hi. Do you want to talk about… it?”

“I’d prefer to not if that’s okay,” Jackie said shoving her bag inside of her locker.

“Jackie, don’t shut me out. I know that it probably isn’t like you to do something like that, but it happened. It happened, and you can’t take it back. I know we haven’t known each other for that long, but I really value and respect you as a person. I don’t know why you freaked out, especially because kissed me first. I’ll give you space if you want space, but please. Talk to me when you’re ready.” She walked away without waiting for a response.

For the rest of the day, Jackie couldn’t focus. She was team lead that day, and almost forgot to send Nicky on her break. While in tower, all Jackie could think about was Jan. She had no idea why she couldn’t shake the blonde from her head. Even though she dated boys all through school, she never felt strongly toward any of them. She slept with her boyfriend in junior year, but broke up with him right after, because she felt nothing toward him. There was something different about Jan. Jackie felt things toward Jan that she thought she was supposed to feel to her boyfriends. The keyword being boyfriend. Being gay was out of the question for Jackie. Her entire life, both of her parents that being gay was immoral and disgusting, something Jackie never understood. It was up until she met Jaida her first summer at Paradise Isle before she even met a gay person. As Jackie looked at the monitors from tower, she tried to reassure herself that she definitely wasn’t gay, and that Jan was just pretty. Even if she knew it wasn’t true.

Finally, it was time for her break. Jackie looked around, making sure that Jan wasn’t also on her break. Thankfully, she was in the clear. Jaida was sitting at a table by herself eating a salad.

“Hey, girl,” Jaida said as Jackie sat across from her.

“Jaida. I have a problem.”

“Is that problem a pretty blonde girl named Jan?”

“How did you know?”

“What do you remember about the party?”

“I kissed Jan. Like. I initiated it, apparently. But it was just one kiss right?”

“Ooh, chile. No, you guys were making out. For a while. Everyone saw. You were grabbing her ass and everything.”

Jackie buried her head in her hands. “Oh, no.”

“Have you seen her today?“

“Yeah, this morning. She tried to talk to me, but I wouldn’t listen. She agreed to give me space… I can’t hold this off forever, Jaida.”

“No. You can’t. You know what y’all need?” Jaida questioned.

“What?”

“You know what.”

“I’m not taking Jan onto the Ferris wheel.”

Because Paradise Isle was mostly ran by people who were all around the same age, there were plenty of relationships, flings, and conflicts. When any problems arose, it was customary to go into the Ferris wheel to resolve any issues. The parties in question would ride until they either they resolved their issues, stormed off angrily, or ran away crying. It wasn’t something management allowed, but the supervisors knew how much conflict it resolved, so they let it slide. Jackie had never had to take any rides in the Ferris wheel. Jaida, however, took at least one a summer. Her second summer she took three.

“If you don’t take her, I’m going to shove your skinny Persian ass into that ride. I’ll drag Jan by the hair if I have to. You are going to talk this out. Okay?”

Jackie grumbled. “I guess.”

“Tell Jan to meet you at the Ferris wheel. The Genie closes early tonight for maintenance, right?”

Jackie nodded. Once a month, The Genie closed a half an hour early for maintenance, which made it the perfect night.

“Okay, perfect. Jan’s stocking tonight, so it’ll be easy for her to slip away.”

Jackie’s heart beat fast as she tried to come up with what to text Jan. She reread it twice and made Jaida read it, too before she sent it.

Hey. I’m really sorry. Can we talk? I’ll be at the Ferris wheel at close.

Jan responded almost immediately.

ill see you then

“How did she respond so fast?” Jackie questioned.

“Stockers do whatever they want. Anyway. My break’s over. Let me know how it goes.”

“Will do.”

—

Gigi couldn’t stop thinking about Crystal. It didn’t help that she was in the slowest store, at the slowest time of the night, all by herself. Nobody wanted to buy overpriced, blurry photos of themselves on rides. She debated calling Jan because she was bored, but decided against it, since Jan was going to be by soon to close the store.

“Hey, gorg,” Jan said as she made her way inside.

“Hey.”

“What’s wrong?”

“What do you mean?”

“’Hey.’” Jan mocked Gigi’s depressed tone as she started shutting down photo monitors.

“Promise you won’t tell?” Gigi felt like she was in middle school saying that sentence.

“Pinky promise.”

Gigi linked pinkies with Jan while emptying the register. “So me and Crystal got super close super quickly, I’m sure you saw.”

“Yeah, of course. She’s a sweetheart.”

“Yeah she is. Anyway. I started feeling…. Feelings toward her. Do you follow?” Jan nodded. “And honestly, I thought she felt the same way… She spent the night at my house after the party and literally cuddled with me.”

“Oh wow, really?”

“Yeah. So here I was, thinking that she felt the same way. Turns out I was completely wrong. Get this, she gets picked up from my house by her boyfriend.”

“Oof.”

“Oof, indeed.”

“Well,” Jan said. “Have you thought about telling her?”

“Absolutely not.” Gigi finished putting the rest of the money in the locked bag. The two girls headed out of the store.

“Why not?”

“What good is it going to do?”

Jan slammed the gate in front of the store shut as they left.

“Would it give you any sort of peace of mind?”

“I mean, maybe. But what if it ruins everything? It’s not like she’s gonna break up with him on the spot to date me. Why would–”

They were interrupted on their way to the money room by an older woman.

“I’m supposed to meet my family at The Landing. How do I get there?”

Jan smiled kindly. “Ma’am you’re on The Landing right now.”

“I am? Where’s my family?”

“Can’t help you with that ma’am, hope you find them!” Jan walked away before the woman could continue.

Gigi rolled her eyes at the woman. “Why would I risk the friendship? I’d rather have her in my life as my friend than not at all.”

They reached the money room, where they were greeted by Nina. After handing her the locked money bag, they made their way to Isle Mercantile’s stockroom to help close.

“At the end of the day, it’s up to you. I can’t tell you what to do. It’s not an easy situation, and it doesn’t have a clear answer. I’m sorry Gigi.” Jan hugged Gigi.

“Thanks, Jan.”

Jan. “Oh shit. I’m late.”

“Late for what?”

“Jackie wants to talk about… things.”

“Good luck.”

—

The rest of Jackie’s workday went by disgustingly slow. At least she spent the rest of her shift at Load 1, which meant that she ran back and forth checking lapbars, and then engaging her console. It kept her busy and kept her mind off of Jan, at least for a while.

Once her shift ended, Jackie changed into the clothes that she had in her bag, old jean shorts, and a t-shirt with her university’s logo, desperately wishing that she kept cuter spare clothes. Close to closing, all attractions on The Boardwalk had a short wait. When she got there, a slightly unusual girl named Yvie was operating the ride. Jackie didn’t know Yvie well, but remembered that the year prior, Yvie had to ride the wheel with a girl named Scarlet.

It was five minutes after close. All Jackie could do was think about what a big mistake she made until she saw Jan running full force down The Boardwalk. “I’m so sorry! I was mending a broken heart.”

“Good luck,” Yvie said as they went up.

Jackie and Jan didn’t say anything at first.

Finally, Jan broke the silence. “Do you regret it?”

“What?”

“Do you regret kissing me?”

Jackie sat, methodically constructing her answer. “No. No, I don’t.”

“Well why did you freak out then? I hope you know that you really fucking hurt me, Jackie.”

This made Jackie’s heart break. Knowing that she caused such a kind soul hurt killed her. “Jan, I am so, so sorry. That is the last thing I wanted to do. I just need you to know one thing.”

“What?”

“It had absolutely nothing to do with you… Honestly my entire life my parents told me being gay was bad, and I didn’t think I believed them, but maybe part of my subconscious did. Not that at all is an excuse for my behavior. The thought of liking a girl the way I was told I was supposed to like boys freaked me the fuck out.”

They reached the platform.

“Again?” Yvie asked.

Jackie nodded.

“Gotcha.”

“I never even considered the fact that I could be gay. And then I met you, and you’re so confident in who you are.”

“Confident in who I am? Jackie, I’ve never labelled my sexuality. I dated a couple boys in my time, but also hooked up with a girl on my soccer team. I just know that if I like someone, I like them. I don’t really think anything beyond that matters, not that I haven’t had late nights where I couldn’t stop thinking about how confused I was.”

Jackie was surprised. Jan seemed so sure of herself, so it was unusual to imagine her being unsure about anything. “Really? You seem so confident about literally everything.”

“Do you wanna know a secret? Most of it’s fake. My mom used to always tell me ‘fake it til you make it,’ and I guess it stuck.”

They reached the bottom again. Yvie looked at them and Jackie nodded.

“10-4.”

They started rising again.

Jackie exhaled. Her heart was pounding. It was now or never. “I’ve dated boys all throughout school. I slept with one of them. And honestly, Jan? I felt more when I kissed you the other night than I ever did when I was with any of them, and I was drunk… Jan, I haven’t stopped thinking about you since the party. I think about how you light up every room you go into. I think about how pretty you are when you smile. I keep thinking about kissing you again.”

“Wow.”

“And I’m sorry if that’s strong, but I just need to tell let that off my chest and I understand if–”

Jan didn’t let Jackie finish. Instead, she grabbed her shirt and kissed her. If Jackie thought kissing Jan drunk was nice, kissing her sober was incredible. Their lips moved in perfect synchronization. Jackie was used to boys who led with the tongue. Instead, Jan’s kisses were gentle, yet powerful. Jackie unconsciously moved her hand through Jan’s soft hair. Eventually, Jan broke the kiss.

“Is that okay that I did that?”

Instead of answering, Jackie pulled her into another kiss. At this point, they reached the top.

“I really like you, Jan. I don’t really know how to process that information, but I know that I like kissing you.”

“I like kissing you, too. We can take it as slowly as you want. I want to see where this goes. I think we have something good here.”

“I think so, too.”

Jan rested her head on Jackie’s shoulder the rest of the way down.

Yvie looked in at them. “You guys good?”

Jan smiled. “Never better.”

#rpdr fanfiction #gigi goode #crystal methyd #jan sport #jackie cox #jaida essence hall #nicky doll #crygi #jankie #jaida x nicky #lesbian au #stupid for you #metaluna #s12 #submission

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waejinyoung · 4 years

Text

Can’t Swim - EP . 6

word count: 4.8k+

a/n: dont hate me pls, i swear Jinyoung is okay... kinda. yall gonna hate me for this ending too

warning: swearing, hospital setting, mentioning of injuries

EP . 1 , EP . 2 , EP . 3 , EP . 4 , EP . 5 , EP . 6 , EP .7 , EP . 8 , EP . 9

The day started well but it didn’t last long. The call from Jooheon led the day to plummet into a shit hole. The eco hotel was now under your guys’ belt but Jinyoung was now a patient in the local hospital. Shit really hit the fan.

Monday Afternoon

You had rushed back into the meeting room and said your apologies to both Beck and Mr Chan. You were sure this was a good enough reason to rush out of an important meeting like this one. You took note to let them both know the reason why you had to leave once things had died down.

Now you were at the hospital outside of Jinyoung’s room waiting for the doctor to come out. What could have gone wrong for him to be hospitalised?

“Miss?” The doctor left Jinyoung’s room and saw your concerned frame.

“Yes. Is Jinyoung okay?”

“His condition is currently stable. We are running some scans to check his condition. We’ll be able to comment in better detail once the results are out.”

“What did he come to the hospital with?” She looked up at you after rereading Jinyoung’s record.

“It looks like he was strangled. He also seemed to have taken a great impact in his right eye, he mentioned momentarily not seeing hence why we need to run some things.”

“Doc, you’re telling me he was strangled and punched.”

“Not punched. He was strangled up against a wall to the point where he passed out. The suspect left him to drop causing the patient’s eye to collide with a surface.” You understood the collision analysis. It was possible to hit something when falling in the leisure centre. Stairs, fencing, shower steps, (etc).

“And have the authorities found out who did it?”

“A male by the name of Max Poach. He had some minor scratches, most likely by Mr Park whilst trying to resist the strangling although I can’t confirm. He’s in a check-up room near reception for your interest.” Your face dropped. He took it this far…

With that the doctor went back to doing her rounds leaving you to process all of what you just heard. Max left Jinyoung there passed out? He took whatever it he was building up inside, all the rage and anger and acted so viciously all for what? You didn’t even know if you could step inside Jinyoung’s room. Whilst you were debating with your head in your knees on your seat you heard a load of rushing footsteps coming your way. You couldn’t even bother lifting your head up to see who they were. They stopped in front of you before entering the room. Who did you have to confront?

“Y/N?” Sounds like Mark.

“It’s my fault. It’s all my fucking fault.” Mark looked at Jaebeom who was beside him. The rest stayed at JYP to continue with their company meeting. If it was a serious case under their judgement they decided they would call the rest to come.

“How is he?” You picked up on Jaebeom’s presence too.

“I just came.. I-I don’t…” You started sobbing. You couldn’t bring yourself to enter the room. You didn’t want to see the damage done to someone you… you didn’t even know… did you love him?

“Shhh… Y/N. None of this is your fau-“ Mark tried to calm you down but you predicted this phrase to escape his mouth.

“It is Mark. These two know of each other because of me. They had a serious fight because of me. If I was just there today… may-maybe just maybe I could have stopped it.”

“You weren’t teaching today?” Jaebeom was confused.

“I-I had a meeting with that important client I men-mentioned last time we met. Usually when I don’t come to lessons, Max takes over. Jooheon, my boss, rang to say everything was fine but it’s not f-fine.” You were practically crying at this rate. You couldn’t believe things had gone too far. You imagine what sort of hopeless situation Jinyoung must have been in. Strangled and left passed out. It just triggered you to cry more.

“Y/N. Me and Jaebeom are going to go inside. You can join us soon once you’ve calmed down and ready, okay?” Mark kneeled down to your level and made sure to make eye contact, you looked up at both of them and gave them a slight nod.

“Just knock and we’ll be there. Don’t worry. We’ll get through this Y/N.” Jaebeom patted your head as they passed you and entered the room.

THIRD PERSON POV

Mark and Jaebeom entered the room slowly just in case Jinyoung was asleep resting. This wasn’t the case. Jinyoung was up and turned his head slowly towards his members.

He had bandaging wrapped around his neck restraining him from any sudden movements. Packed cushioning on his right eye held by some more bandaging. The colour from his face had drained. He was already pale but now he was just like a sheet of paper. He looked ill. The life out of him sucked out. What the fuck had Max done…

“Before you ask, yes she’s here. She’s trying to muster up the courage to come in. She’ll be here once she’s ready.” Max beat Jinyoung to his question.

“I don’t blame her. Look at me.” Jinyoung signalled at his battered state.

“We all know you could have retaliated but it’s too risky. You have a lot on the line. The group being one of them so thank you.” Jaebeom grabbed a chair and sat near Jinyoung.

“Next time beat the shit out of him though. You have our permission. I don’t care what we have to go through to clear your name. You’re still human at the end of the day, you don’t deserve to be treated like this.” Mark bursted in anger. His duality would scare anyone. He entered calm and composed only to set alight as soon as he spoke. He wasn’t having it.

“Will there even be a n-next time? He was caught on camera. I overheard the d-doctors talking about officers b-beside him throughout his check-up.” Jinyoung spoke. His voice sounded groggy.

“He’ll probably just be charged or some sort of warning. He’ll probably be sacked too, he works with people, I’m sure the centre won’t let him continue.” Jaebeom gathered.

“This guy must be a maniac. He just ruined his life over a female. I know you have an interest in her, but you need to think for yourself before anyone else.” Mark clarified. He didn’t get why someone would resort to violence without trying to sort out the situation like civil people. Similar to Y/N’s thought.

“She must be so conflicted.” Jinyoung struggled to voice his opinion. It hurt for him to speak. He just hoped his vocal cords weren’t damaged, nothing permanent at least. Doc said she’d clarify him of the results to confirm any damage, aware of his profession. Singing is his life; He wasn’t going to lose his pride possession that easily.

“If she comes, can you guys give us some time?” The other two nodded.

“Your life was on the line yet you’re here thinking about her. You’re not just interested bro, you’re whipped.” Jaebeom gave a sneaky smirk trying to lighten the mood up. Jinyoung’s expression changed showing some form of life; He smiled knowing what Jaebeom had said was right.

“What did the doctor say?” Mark was still really concerned.

“V-vocal cords. She’s checking them.”

“Fuck my life. It’s that bad. Should I ring the others to come?”

Jinyoung waved his hands no, “I-I don’t want to handle questions. I-I can barely speak.”

Suddenly the 3 guys turned their heads due to a click near the door. Y/N had built up courage to check Jinyoung’s condition. She had enough of imagining and just wanted to know how bad he was.

Y/N’S POV

You took a deep breath in. You could do this. You would have to see him at one point anyways so just do it now instead of eating away on your own sanity. With that, you got a good grip of the door handle and pushed the door open.

“… I-I can barely speak.” You heard the ending of a sentence by a croaky voice. It started to settle in even more how bad Jinyoung’s condition was.

You could only see the edge of Jinyoung’s bed when you entered but you made instant eye contact with Mark. He gave you a reassuring smile which prompted you to walk in a little further.

“We’ll be outside.” Mark signalled his head towards the door to Jaebeom. Jaebeom got the idea of who had entered the room.

The two walked past you. Jaebeom gave you a brotherly pat on the shoulder as they left. You could do this.

You took small steps to the corner that would reveal Jinyoung fully. You revealed your head around the corner to see Jinyoung laying there but you couldn’t handle the site. You retracted back to hiding. You were going to converse from here if you had to.

“Does it hurt?” You didn’t even know what to say.

“No.” Jinyoung was trying he best not to sound hurt so you didn’t feel any form of guilt.

“Liar.” But you were too smart.

“A little.”

“Hmm… I’ll save you the talk then. I know how much I’ve apologised to you since we’ve met, and you’ve mentioned how you don’t want me to apologise for others’ actions. B-but Jinyoung I’m so sorry.” You crouched down with your back against the wall. Jinyoung could hear your sobbing.

“I’m so so sorry. I’m s-sorry I didn’t tell you I-I wouldn’t be in today. I should have got in contact.” You had lost it again.

Jinyoung couldn’t handle not being able to hug you in his embrace. He didn’t like how hopeless he was in his hospital bed. He wanted to shh you and tell you to not apologise. He wanted to tell you what was on his mind, but his body wouldn’t allow it.

“Y-Y/N.” Jinyoung heard your sobs hold back when you heard your name.

You looked up as he called your name. It reminded you of when he called your name for the first time. You liked the sound of your name when he said it.

“Hmm.” You hummed in response.

“C-come here.”

You were hesitant but it wasn’t the best thing to not listen to Jinyoung right now. You got back onto your feet and peaked at Jinyoung around the corner again. He was directly looking at where you would show up. You weren’t able to make eye contact with him as you walked to the seat Jaebeom had pulled to Jinyoung’s bed. Your eyes were glued to the floor.

“L-look at me Y/N.” You knew the reason why his sentences were more demanding. He could barely speak so he kept it short. You looked up at the one eye that wasn’t covered. He met your watery eyes. He wouldn’t think to see you crying again after the day you stepped between him and Max. He made a promise to himself to make you smile no matter the situation.

“I-I’ll definitely be drowning now, won’t I?” You couldn’t believe he was making a swimming joke at this moment. You let out a chuckle more because you were shocked at this comment.

“Seriously… you’re making a joke at this point of your life.”

“It’s p-perfect timing. I get to see you smile; it suits you... to smile.” His comment towards your smile made you smile even more.

“It suits you too… to smile.” You took a hold of his hand and rubbed your thumb against his knuckles. You let out another chuckle because of the size difference between your hands.

“What?”

“I understand why people say I have small hands.” You lined up your hand and Jinyoung’s hand together and showed him the big difference. He smiled at your innocence and purity.

“You know what they say about big hands.” You mouth fell agape. Was he making dirty jokes in this current situation as well?

“I thought Jaehyun was bad.” He chuckled but it hurt for it to last long. He winced at the pain.

“You good? Should I call a nurse?” Jinyoung waved you no.

“It’s expected. Waiting for results now.” You nodded wishing that the results would be out at this very moment.

“I’ll ask what happened between you two when you’re better. I don’t want to cause even more damage to what has already been done.”

He gave you that gaze again. Taking responsibility for others’ actions. He hated it.

The door opened and the doctor from earlier walked back in.

“Hello Mr Park. Feeling any better?”

“Barely.” You looked back down again, eyes glued on the floor.

“Results are not out yet. I was going to check if you could consume food or if we’ll need to feed you through a syringe. I’ve bought some soup from the cafeteria. Miss can help you to see if you can eat.” You looked up at the tray in the doctor’s hand and took it from her. You gave her a nod.

“I’ll let you know if he’s able to eat the soup. I’ll press the buzzer to have you notified.”

“Great. I wish you a quick recovery Mr Park.”

The doctor left the room. Jinyoung didn’t have a ‘time to drink soup’ face on but you were going to convince him no matter what.

“Don’t even think of not having this soup. I’ll try my best not to mum you, but you heard the doc.”

“Mum me… I-I don’t mind.” You scooped a spoon full of the soup and blew a little on it (not advised during the periods of COVID-19, take care of yourselves).

“Open up. Try your best.” He swallowed the soup and his arm gripped your arm due to the pain. The instant reflex caught you off guard and you felt sorry for the pain he was feeling.

“Doable?”

You looked up at his one eye ready with another scoop. He nodded wanting to try once more. Yet again he winced in pain with the same reflex.

“Syringe?” He nodded again. You pressed the buzzer on the wall and the doctor was back again soon after.

“I don’t think Mr Park will get through a bowl of soup without a lot of pain. I think the syringe will be better.” The doctor took note on Jinyoung’s record and called in a nurse about the syringe hours.

“Thanks doctor.” You liked the kind and keen approach she had towards her job.

“It’s our job Miss.” The doctor then left the room.

You looked back at Jinyoung only to see him staring right through you. He wanted to ask you why you weren’t in and luckily you owed him an explanation.

“I wasn’t in for the lesson because I had a project meeting with the hotel client I mentioned on Friday. Whenever I’m not in lessons, Max covers for me since he’s the only teacher free during that period. I gave Jooheon a ring and he told me not to worry and just concentrate on the meeting. I was going to tell you prior to the lesson but I had so much to do over the weekend for this meeting that it went over my head. I’m so- “

“Don’t.” You stopped in your tracks. Right don’t apologise for everything.

“How d-did it go?”

“It went really well. He mentioned the…” You trailed off having realised that you had completely forgotten about the news that was published across all platforms.

“The news?” So, he was aware?

“To our luck he actually seemed fond of the news. He even bought flowers as a congratulations gift which was a little odd. I did break it to him what the actual truth was, but he was happy regardless. We swiftly moved onto the project and he was really happy with the outcome. The hotel will be built for 2022 and construction starts really soon.”

He felt like a proud mum. He wished he could go on and on about how proud he was of your achievement, but his current state wouldn’t allow him.

“I-I’m sorry for the n-news.” This was different, he was the one apologising this time.

“I would say that it’s fine, but I have to be honest it’s not. My phone has been going off since the meeting from random numbers and my company entrance was filled with paparazzi right before the meeting. I haven’t got back to my friends or family because god knows where to start.”

“My manager will h-handle it. Y-you shouldn’t have to go through this c-crap.” You guessed that the news will be taken down or some sort of announcement will be made by his side to clear it up.

“That’s good to know. I’m going to give the meeting holders a quick ring, I left abruptly after hearing Jooheon over the phone. Give me a second.”

You got off from the chair and gave Beck a ring whilst gazing out the window. This was so hectic.

“Hey Y/N, is everything okay?” Beck sounded so worried on the other end of the line.

“Hi Beck, you’re going to have to go alone with Mr Chan. I won’t be able to make it. Let him know that I’ll make it up to him but I’m at an emergency situation right now. I’ll talk to you later too. I owe you one.”

“Understood. Don’t drain yourself out with whatever it is. Me and Mr Chan will be fine. We seem to have caught him on a happy day anyways, don’t worry.” You knew you could always count on Beck.

“That’s great. Make sure to forward him my apologies. Have fun.” You hung up the phone and returned back to Jinyoung’s side.

“You should g-go.” Jinyoung spoke up.

“You want me to go to a meal knowing that you’re being fed through a needle looking out the window with only one eye. I don’t think so Jinyoung.” It was unfortunately the bitter truth. He read your face well and you weren’t up for listening to him right now.

For the rest of that day you were with Jinyoung. Every time the nurses would come to change his bandaging you’d have to step out. You couldn’t bear to look at what Max had done to Jinyoung. You’d always ask the nurses as they left if there were any signs of healing, but they’d just say it’s too early to tell. Later on, in the evening the rest of the guys came by and stayed with Jinyoung. You would also leave then, to give them time to have their talks.

Monday Evening

“Y/N, I’m sure Jinyoung wouldn’t like to see you slaving away in the corridors of a hospital. Why don’t you head home and rest up? You can come back in the morning to check up on him.” Mark stepped out of the room and started to get worried at how long you hadn’t eaten and gotten some rest.

“Mark, I’m really not in the mood. I’ll just end up procrastinating at home and get even more worried. Sleep definitely won’t be visiting me tonight if anyhwere but at this hospital.” Mark shook his head, understanding where you were coming from.

“I’m going to stay over the night. You guys can all go. He’s in good hands. Here’s my number. You can contact me if anything’s up and I’ll make sure to pick up.” You handed over your business card which had your contact details on it to Mark.

“We’ll be leaving in 5. Make sure to get some rest too. I don’t want another casualty in our hands.” He smiled trying to make you feel better.

“Don’t worry. I’ll take good care of both of us.”

Like Mark had said, 5 minutes later the boys departed from the hospital informing you to get in contact with them if anything in the slightest happens. You said your goodbyes and they were off. You returned back into Jinyoung’s room to see his eyes shut.

Hes had a rough day. A really rough day. It’s weird how both of your days started of normal only to stoop to a miserable level. It’s expected for him to be tired. Now was the time for him to get some rest in order to recover. You just hoped that no permanent damage was done, or you won’t be able to forgive yourself until the day you die. You were willing to be by his side until he was fully recovered. Stay beside him and even have him in your own home so you can nurse him easily. You could hear his light snoozing as he drifted into a deeper sleep.

The nurse came in to check everything for the evening. She noticed the patient asleep so toned down her voice.

“Miss, would you like us bring in a portable guest bed?”

“If it won’t cause much hassle and noise, then that would be great. Thank you.” The nurse smiled and left the room to bring you your bed.

…

Your bed arrived with its sheets and a plump pillow on top. The hospital even had some pyjamas laid out on the bed for you to change into. You used the on suite bathroom to change into the pjs. You had taken off your makeup with the cleansing wipes you always carried with you and sat on the bed.

You couldn’t take your eyes off Jinyoung. The poor man went through such a traumatic day with you being the cause of it all. You slowly got off the bed avoiding any creaky noises from the springs and kneeled down, so you were level with Jinyoung’s face. You brushed the strands of hair that were covering his face to aside. He looked effortless even in this state. Not many could achieve. You lighted stroked his cheek feeling his warm skin which had gained more colour compared to what it looked like at first. His calm sleep self gave you so much to look at. His perfect proportions, short but cute eyelashes, noticeably larger but cute ears and his lips. Oh, how much you wanted them to make contact with yours again, just like they did in the sand that day. You were sure he felt the same, there was no denying.

JINYOUNG’S POV

You were sure she thought you were sleep. Her presence was near enough for you to guess the difference between you two. 10cms apart from someone you gave so much care about. 10cms away from someone you were sure you could say, you loved. No matter how early it may be, you knew from the start that she was the one. You were just too hesitant on things moving quickly. This injury being one factor that’ll definitely be slowing down anything from progressing quickly, deterred you from that happening.

You really wanted to open your eyes. To look into the deep world that her eyes held and be her guardian angel. To tell her how much she’s been on your mind since the first encounter. Whilst you were running through the things you wanted to say to Y/N, you felt a gentle peck against your cheek and a whisper.

“What have you done to me silent parrot? Goodnight.”

Silent parrot? You guess that’s something you’ll need to question Y/N on once you’re more able to talk. With that, you sensed Y/N snuggle into her bed and you decided to do the same. Lots of sleep is going to be needed in order to recover from all the injuries.

Tuesday Morning

You were an early bird. Having the nurses change your syringe and bandaging every so often didn’t exactly help with a consistent sleep. Every night visit by the nurses you’d make sure to ask them to be really silent, so Y/N didn’t wake up.

The clock across you struck 7 am but you didn’t care what the time was because you had a little lamb beside you still fast asleep. She looked so cute. You noticed how true she was about her hands too. They looked tiny as they laid on the pillow next to her face. She was snuggled, hugging her duvet like it was a snuggly toy.

The sun started to peak through the blinds and hit Y/N directly in the face. She should wake up soon, you thought.

Y/N’S POV

You woke up to a small heat against your face and a lightened environment. It was now morning. You rubbed your eyes and slowly opened them. You checked over at the side table and grabbed your glasses to clearly see Jinyoung. He was wide awake.

“G-good morning.” There was a little more life in his voice but still groggy.

“Good morning, did you get some sleep? How do you feel?” You sat up with your legs crossed under the duvet.

“In small dosages, yes. I-I feel a b-bit more rested.” You shot him a smile and got up from your bed due to a knock at the door. Considering it wasn’t a doctor since they didn’t just come in you guessed it was a visitor of some sorts.

“I’ll get it.” You told Jinyoung and opened the door. Jinyoung was able to hear who you were talking to.

“Oh. Hi Mona, I’m guessing Beck sent you with all the things I asked for.”

“Yes Miss. I have your workwear in here and a light breakfast too. I’ve parked your car downstairs so you can get to work with no hassle. If that’s all, I’ll be off.”

You ruffled her hair for being so formal even though you knew each other for the past 4 years, “Stop being so formal. I know you’re my assistant and all but you’re also my friend. If there isn’t much work for you today why don’t you hang around and we can go to work together?”

“I’d love to Miss- “

You chuckled, “Stop with the Miss.”

“Fine. Mr Longing had some tasks planned for me to do when I got back and apparently they are urgent, so I’ll have to decline Y/N. Maybe another time.”

“Bummer. Alright, thank you for helping out. We can have a meal another time. I should be at the company before midday.”

“See you Y/N.” You waved Mona goodbye and headed back into the room. Jinyoung almost had a sulking face on and you never knew you needed to see him pouting in your entire life.

“Are you sulking… by any chance?” You stood at the end of Jinyoung’s bed and looked at his facial expression.

“No.” As he declined your outrageous question, he crossed his arms and looked away from you. You were dealing with grown baby.

“Could it possibly be because I need to head to work?”

“Hmph.” He kept his arms crossed. You didn’t know you’d see him in this way in your life.

If he was playing baby, let’s see what he felt when you told him, “I never really liked guys who sulked.” You weren’t being serious, but you just really wanted to get a reaction out of him.

He uncrossed his arms immediately, “I wasn’t sulking. I was just…”.

“Just?” You got him on edge, and it was funny to see you mostly in control of a situation this time round. He’d usually be the one with the upper hand but not this time. Still no answer.

“Cat caught your tongue Park?” You were having way too much fun.

“Damn. You really don’t like guys who sulk?” You couldn’t hold in the truth any longer.

“I don’t mind Jinyoung. I’m just playing with you.” You chuckled at his defeat.

“Phew. Back to what I was doing,” He crossed his arms again and faced away from you, “Don’t go.”

You couldn’t believe your eyes. He just switched back into a baby in milliseconds.

“No wonder why you’re an actor. Acting… shit. What’s going to happen with the drama?” It sunk to you how many things this situation has affected.

“P-postponed.” You felt shit again. He stopped with the sulking at this point and realised your drop in energy.

“Don’t worry about it Y/N. Things will be b-back to normal soon-“

Before Jinyoung could finish his words, his doctor rushed into the room. She seemed like she was out of breath. You looked at Jinyoung and you both eyed the doctor waiting for her to explain her rush.

“Sorry for…the sudden entrance. The… results-“ She was really longing out the news. Was it bad? Was it good? You couldn’t handle her short pauses.

“Can you just say it?”

“Yes… Miss. There’s good and bad news.” You looked at Jinyoung and his face was definitely different to how he was a minute ago. No longer a child but an adult.

“D-doc. Bad n-news first.”

“Mr Park… your vocal cords…” The doctor was also aware of how much Jinyoung’s vocal cords meant.

“Say it, Doc.” Jinyoung couldn’t take it anymore either.

“You won’t be able to sing...”

---

I can already hear all of you hating me for this ending too. I feel so evil. I was planning on continuing but I wanted to be a tease again. You’ll have to be back for the next episode to find out the good news. I wanted to say whilst writing this episode half of the time I was in delulu land. I felt sad having Jinyoung in such a vulnerable situation and thought what it would be like looking after him. I have left that land though, much healthier not thinking delulu.

I hope you guys enjoyed!

writer-nim x

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booksbookandmorebooks · 3 years

Text

Emma in the night Book review.

Hello there my lovelies, I know its been a little while since I last posted and I have honestly missed doing this so much, so thank you to anyone still here and still supporting me, it means the absolute world.

As everyone is fully aware 2020 was an awful one but hopefully this year we can aim for a little more positivity and happiness, which is why im back today with a review of my first read of this year and bloody hell did I pick a goodun! So this is my first review for my first book of 2021, enjoy!

The writing style

One of my favourite things about this book was the different points of view you get to experience and how well they mesh together. For example, we are told very early on that the events Cass is recalling aren’t exactly what you would call accurate and that she has spent months planning and creating this false narrative in an order to manipulate the people she's describing them to (which in itself is something I always get drawn into, the mystery and the need to figure out the characters motives and intentions along side the biggest question of all WHY?! Which is a question will find yourself screaming at the pages) This is made very apparent from the use of the choppy and restrictive way that these scenes are written. Wendy also somehow manages to create a feeling of desperation and messiness whilst having the characters maintaining such a mellow and collected exterior, you know the calm before the storm! Which is such a jarring feeling but one that realty captured and immersed me. A feeling I don’t think is easy to convey through a book format. That in itself is a testament to Wendy’s talent as a writer.

When you compare Cass’ chapters and inner dialogue to detective Abby’s they are so different but when they are looked at side by side they create a very interesting contrast that as I said before works so well, while there is a calm chaos to Cass’ words there is in turn a very structured and balanced feel to Abby's, almost a little detached like you were reading sections cut directly from a police case file. Through this constant difference in characters POVS the story flowed flawlessly and at the perfect pace for a thriller book.

The climax of the book was not just shocking but also depicted so well in how the writing matched the pace of the reveal, the whole book alternates between cass and Abby with each chapter assigned to one of the characters but towards the end you see that the different POVs are whittled down to single sentences or just a few paragraphs that get shorter and shorter as the tension builds, creating this intense feeling of panic, alert and fear. A method that I swear had my heart physically racing at the end! It was like watching a classic cat and mouse scene play out in my hands/

I also have to mention that very last chapter. I'm sorry for waffling on but please bare with me. For a book based around secrets and deception the ending was that of a perfect one because of its ability to make you feel like after reading it you now share a secret with Cass and you are now part of this extremely messed up story and family, you have this understanding of her whole character and her motives which really brings everything full circle.

The character development:

The character development in this book is one of the best ive seen in awhile with each character being incredibly layered and yet undeniably flawed. Its done in such a human way that it doesn’t feel too far fetched like some thrillers ive read in recent years. Ensuring that all of the emotions tied in with said characters hit 10 times harder than that of those very basic 2 dimensional characters, even the worst people in this story have a difficult background or some type of abusive past, just a catalyst for their behaviours and characteristics and by gradually being informed of them you and being given the bigger picture you almost create an individual relationship and opinion on them ranging from hatred to pity. We get amazing development in every single one even the seemingly unimportant ones because even they are given enough backstory to still secure a connection of some kind with them, something I know we can all appreciate as readers.

The relationships.

The main relationship ill focus on is that of the sisters Cass and Emma. I know there are a lot of relationships in this book that over lap and intertwine in really interesting and sometimes awful ways but as these two characters are the basis of our main storyline it makes a little more sense to focus the attention on them

As a huge plot point throughout the story we see that due to the actions of their mother and her lack of genuine maternal instinct and well, love we see the girls in this constant battle of who can earn their mothers love trust and affections first. Which was so heart breaking to read, through their mothers constant manipulation and abuse we see them fighting the resentment and distance that they know is growing between them and sadly a lot of the time losing because of Mrs. Martins influence and involvement. Its very obvious when reading about their mother that her abuse is based around the fear she feels at the idea of any kind of alliance that the girls could potentially form with each other, god forbid they turn against her and out her as a bad mother! So she decides its easier to create a wedge between the two of them by openly favouring one over the other which unfortunately results in a lot of cruel actions from Emma direct at Cass, creating another toxic relationship and situation for the girls to live in. Although we do get the occasional glimpse at these really beautiful and raw moments of sisterhood and love they share deep down. After seeing so much pain in their story it made these moments just that little bit more special and down right beautiful which was a part that i especially adored.

The themes:

In its relatively short amount of pages this book manages to explore a huge variety of themes from love and obsession to betrayal abuse and manipulation, which lets be honest is everything you want in a good thriller book but usually when a writer takes on this many themes I always find some of them are either touched upon very quickly then dismissed and never revisited or thought of again or done so badly with such a lack of care that its obvious they were just included for the author to be able to say they've hit all the key themes a reader would expect a good thriller to hit. Yet Wendy manages to not only explore all of these and more, but manages to do it well and so subtly you don't notice until you sit back and think about them all which to me just shows a writers real talent.

The psychology:

Another huge part of this book and something I adored were the analysis parts of the book, the in-depth look into narcissism and its effects on the children it surrounds. We are constantly listening to Detective Abby explaining and exploring the characteristics of the people Cass is talking about in her chapters, exploring the connections and the risk factors associated with such a serious disorder as narcissistic personality disorder. I found this to give the story and writing some real merit, it felt like i was reading a psychology book and getting down to the real science of why characters work the way they do and giving the reader a chance to explore it themselves instead of just being told this person has this which is something I cant stand in books. Instead of investing time and effort into helping guide you to a conclusion or even showing you they just tell you this is how it is and expect that to be enough. So frustrating! None the less, this is something I haven't experienced in another book and a technique I hope to see more of!

Similar books:

When reading this I got very strong sharp objects vibes, the fractured relationship between families, focusing on mother and daughter, a highly manipulative mother, an obsession with public facades and the desperate need to keep up appearances and so much more! If you liked sharp objects you will love this, as Emma in the night has all of the important story beats and intrigue that sharp objects has but more intensity and a faster paced story something I felt was missing when I read SO’S.

Over all I adored this book, as you can probably tell and considering it is my first Wendy walker book I can safely say i have fallen in love! I can promise you now this will not be my last read from her collection. I was captivated by her story and her writing which is why i couldn’t recommend this more!

A very very easy 5/5.

so that's it, thanks for reading my review, i really hope you enjoyed it! sorry if I waffled at all its been awhile since ive written any reviews and am still getting my bearings with it again so please be patient with me. Hope you have a fab week my lovelies, Bye!

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ddaenghoney · 4 years

Text

chapter six

masterlist link in blog description.

As a successful songwriter, you want nothing more than the acknowledgment that the chart-topping musical pieces are your own creations. But contracts, relationships, and the difficulty of facing the stakes involved head on, keep your mouth shut until pressure builds too much.

Pairing(s): Park Jimin x Y/N, Min Yoongi x Y/N

disclaimer: any characters depicted do not represent the actual personality of the respected idol in real life.

Series warning(s)/genre(s): Chapter-based written fic, Slow-burn relationship(s), Fake-dating, Unrequited love, Songwriter/producer!oc, idol!Jimin, idol/songwriter/producer!Yoongi, friends with benefits, drama, romance, smut, angst, fluff (updated as needed)

Chapter warning(s): none, just finally able to introduce Hoseok in this chapter lol

Word count: 5299

if you enjoy please, please let me know!

Yoongi’s eyes scan the weekly announcement email, not truly interested, yet still giving himself time to be thoroughly knowledgeable of upcoming events for his newfound colleagues and the company as a whole. Mentions of renovation in the lobby, a new coffee machine to be installed on the production floor along with a request to be more mindful of how this one is used, and the schedule for the practice rooms for the month remains unchanged for the last few weeks of January. Highlighted at the top of the email is the name of a mini album set to be released the first week in February along with parentheses beside it stating who would be releasing it: Park Jimin.

Reclining back in his seat, Yoongi regards the blue font notice in silence, wondering for a passing time of his involvement in the corruption between Jimin and you. He knows it’s not his fault, and knows you do too. Yet, there’s still guilt seeing Jimin’s name or hearing it anywhere. Still guilt felt in grazing his thumb against his index finger as a fidget when on the four dates so far where you’re forced in one way or another to recall Jimin’s existence. Yoongi has not apologized about it since the first date, but it doesn’t change that he feels like he should if only to assure you that the hurt you try and hide each time doesn’t need to be hidden for the atmosphere’s sake.

The foot on the floor pushes his desk seat into a small back and forth sway. He doesn’t think of your mutual problems often, just reminded every time an email requests the two of you go on a date, like the one to come that evening. By this point you’re both amicable at least, even going on the limb of saying something like friends. Maybe. It’s hard not to when you’re both forced into two or more hours of conversation. It’s something like friendship. Maybe closer to friendly coworkers. He doesn’t know. Yoongi sighs, spinning an entire slow revolution in his chair, then stopping promptly with the sound of his phone’s text notification.

Two unread.

Y/N, 4:38pm: Just got asked to go to a last second meeting. Probably will be out closer to 6:30 instead of 6:00, sorry.

Yoongi, 4:39pm: That’s fine no worries.

He exits the message thread to check on the other notification. He stares at Hoseok’s name for a second and the few words he’s able to see before opening the chat. Yoongi inhales, rubbing his jaw, while clicking it open with his free hand.

Hoseok, 3:57pm: I think enough time has passed... I’m going to start going for a new comeback now! You’re required to pre-order whenever the album is done!

Yoongi, 4:42pm: Ah, is that a fact?

Yoongi’s hand falls from his jaw to type quicker,

Yoongi, 4:43pm: I’ll help you make it however you need.

Hoseok, 4:45pm: Thanks, man.

Hoseok, 4:48pm: I’m nervous still haha

The phone rests on the desk, Yoongi’s hand resting beside it while he looks at the screen. He tilts his neck as a stretch, thoughtfully. Uncertain of how this would turn out for Hoseok. Wishing for the best. Trying to be hopeful. The dissention of early last year comes back into Yoongi’s mind. The unfair treatment, and watching his best friend go through the invasive camera lights daily, and the pouring stream of interrogative comments throughout social media. The blame that had no place linking to Hoseok when their old company decided to sell out to SoundWave as Hoseok’s contract was torn to pieces.

Yoongi, 4:56pm: You deserve the new beginning if anyone does. It’ll work out.

Hoseok, 5:00pm: Bro…

Yoongi, 5:00pm: You ruined it.

Hoseok, 5:01pm: Haha, I know……… Thanks Yoongi.

The final two words feel somber in Yoongi’s mouth. Drying. He doesn’t deserve to be thanked for anything, when he was quiet watching what happened. He could’ve done something to stop it all. Maybe Hoseok would have a studio next door to Yoongi’s still if more had been done to help. To disprove the wrong perspectives in the public. But it’s not in his persona to care like that.

He sighs, pressing the lock on his device. Index finger taps on the space below his keyboard, the desktop monitor powering off onto the screensaver. Yoongi feels like he should scoff at himself in judgement. How was he ever appalled by your lie when he’s no different.

---

You contemplate sending Namjoon a text, but acknowledge the busy time of the day for him and refrain. Instead you wallow in the quiet, staring at your notes while listening to the arranger and producers beside you editing your song by means of scribbling pencils. You hope they ask you something greater than questioning an affirmative of their ideas for changing the words on the track. Apparently the theme is appropriate, but the verbiage itself doesn’t fit the fast beat pace the producer intends to make this track into.

Jimin is across from you, equally to himself. He scrolls through his phone, appearing collected. He said hello to you sweetly, politely when he walked in with the producer. You didn’t realize he would be joining the impromptu meeting. It was just the producer that had texted you about it, mentioning the arranger also tagging along. Not Jimin. You knew he was using this song, but you didn’t think he needs to be here.

“Jimin, your choreographer is going to thank me for this one. I already know it.” The producer is happy, and granted you’re not entirely angry at the changes he makes on the paper. They’re minor, the meaning is still there. Your touch deteriorates only slightly, and it’s something that’s involved commonly throughout song conception processes. You don’t care about that, you really don’t. Maybe you’re even spitefully happy about the changes too, because it means less you, less for you to be bothered by in the credential section. Less you in lyrics Jimin sings.

“You’re only doing the touch-ups though.” Jimin voice is light-hearted, his playing smile small, yet meaningful. You keep your eyes towards the producer’s writing hand. Bite your lip when the message is properly conveyed to him by notice of his reply,

“You’re right, Y/N’s work is great, like usual.” He agrees sincerely, giving you a thumbs-up with his left hand. You smile softly, just managing a head nod. “Sorry about the random meeting too, by the way. I would’ve waited until tomorrow if we didn’t have to redo the recording for the album he’s going to be releasing.”

“It’s not a big deal. I was here anyways.” You tell him calmly, catching sight of Jimin when you adjust in your chair. He’s gentle in appearance like usual, watching you only because you were speaking. When the sentence ends you see the twitch of an upward smile that he smothers and instead goes back to his phone.

“You’re here more now that the whole fake dating thing is happening, huh?” The arranger’s comment is absent of ill-intent, you realize as he rubs his neck in a stupor as he goes on, “I can’t imagine how weird that has to be. SUGA’s new to the company too; must feel random to be matched up with him, right?”

“Yeah,” You say vaguely, hands in your lap messing around with one another as you hope for a new topic. “Yoongi’s been nice about it all though.” You blab softly, unable to see Jimin’s thumbs unmoving as he no longer pays attention to his phone screen despite his eyes pointing to it.

“He’s cool, I’ve done a couple of things to help him with his production lately.” The man beside you nods as he speaks, settling the pen beside the papers. “Really particular about his stuff, but because he does practically all of it himself, it makes sense.”

“Can I see the revised version?” You interject calmly, receiving the notes from him as he immediately nods, handing it off. You scan through the tiny adjustments, thinking on your own of what potential ideas they had to change the pace of the song.

“None of it’s too crazy, I don’t think, but if anything’s too much let me know.”

“No, it’s all okay with me.” You don’t mind the scribbles, but have even less desire to combat things lately since the meeting with Yerin.

“Can I take a look?” Jimin’s voice calls out to you, and you face him. Small nod as you reach the small distance to slide the papers towards him, then startle as the producer stands up beside you,

“Crap, I need to get to a session downstairs right now. Just get that to my studio when you’re done, Jimin.” He says and you watch using every muscle to refrain wonder at why the arranger also stood too. You instead mentally curse at him saying he’d tag along since he was done for the day as well. You curse again at the sound of the door, glaring at the sight at that point.

“I’ll give it to him like he asked.” Jimin breaks the silence, eyes trailing still at the page of lyrics. You look towards him, erect in your seat but unwilling to stand yet. You recall leaving before he woke up the last night you were with him, and the incredible drought of communication since then. But is it really this easy for him to be casual. Your eyes wait to meet his when he finally lifts them up from the sheet.

“I liked the pink hair.” You murmur as a comment, trying to fill the void of quiet, give yourself a reason to linger there a little longer and see the state of his thoughts towards you. “Well, the brown is nice too though.” You correct with a tiny shrug, feeling a larger pang in your chest when Jimin doesn’t stop his smile this time.

“I liked it too.” He lays the paper flat, but his fingers remain on its edge. You think of other ways to continue the conversation, and shove the thought of asking him simply how he is to the corner of your mind. You’re already staying back with him for no reason, you don’t want to seem completely tangled with missing him. “You and Yoongi...” Jimin begins, and the mere mention of you two makes you want to groan, hoping against this turning into a conversation about your precarious fake relationship when you wanted to focus on Jimin and you. “You don’t have to do anything too much, right?”

You narrow your eyes in confusion. Jimin reaches for his hair, fiddling as he goes on, concern twinging, “Like, nothing you don’t want to do, lo-”

He stops, nearly biting his tongue to do so. You notice. Your hands grip on your jeans, trying to discern if the slip was just because the term of endearment is something he’s so used to calling you, or if there is something more. You watch his index finger barely scratch at the paper on the table. Nervous.

“The whole relationship is something I don’t want to do.” Your sentence is dry, matched with your dismissive shrug. You know that isn’t what Jimin meant, but you don’t expect his head shaking and body becoming more straightened in posture,

“That’s not what I meant.” Jimin says directly, biting the inside of his cheek as he considers explaining himself further. You free him of doing that, nodding.

“I know.” He noticeably pauses, nearing a flustered expression and you almost want to smile in endearment, but you still feel more sad than anything. Confused. “Sorry,” You finally avert your gaze to the table, collecting your few items. “We’re not being forced into anything else though.” You explain while Jimin watches you move around.

Words clutter in his mouth, wondering what to say to keep you in the room, but knowing he shouldn’t. Can’t. He’s the one who ended it. He didn’t want to, but he did.

“Do you miss us?”

Jimin’s heartbeat increases, while yours secretly does as well. The question blurted from your lips in a moment of impulse that built from the second you saw him that day. Dumb, stupid; you want to take the question back, you don’t need his answer. You want it, but you shouldn’t have it in your thoughts whether it’s a yes or a no.

What difference would it make if he said yes and you returned back to how you were. He was right-- Namjoon was right, you’re own screaming logic is right: a secret untrue relationship wouldn’t last and it would only serve to hurt you in the long run. This situation that you both stand in is exactly because you made up the stupid idea in the first place. You should’ve let the first kiss be the last one. Just because you ended up falling in love, doesn’t mean Jimin did.

Jimin’s made it clear that the answer is no. Why do you want to hear him vocalize the no. Maybe a sick part of your mind wanted the words to be engraved so you can take it as a bridge burned to char. If he said no you could move on. That’s how it could work. Maybe it would actually be enough, in that off-chance-

“Of course.” Jimin’s voice whispers the words like they were heavy to push out of his lips. But you could ignore that, wrapped in the potential- “But I don’t want to get back together like we were.” He’s no longer making eye contact with you, busying his fingers further into his locks. “It hurts us both being hidden like that,” You open your mouth to interject that you could live with it, that it’s not necessarily a long-term state of being, but he speaks on, crushing you, “And I don’t want to be your actual boyfriend.”

The counterargument abandons your psyche entirely. The truth of the situation is apparent. Jimin’s made it apparent. The extent of what you were to him was just lust. His casual demeanor makes sense. Your lingering feelings are the minority, not mutually felt.

“Ah,” Your head nods even though Jimin’s not looking up at you. His statement burns more as you stand in the same room as him. “When you put it like that,” Jimin lifts his head, and you don’t know whether to register his expression as sad or not, because why would he be sad. Conflicted, likely. “It makes sense we’d stop then.” You continue to nod, stepping once towards the door, “Sorry. I got the wrong idea.”

You continue in your exit, ignoring anything he may try and do in response, because you didn’t want to be pitied on top of everything else. You let the sound of chairs clattering behind you drift into the background, and slipped out of the room without another word heard.

Yoongi’s studio is on the same floor, and easy to find in a matter of moments. You usually meet him at the lobby, but you don’t think of that as your phone’s clock reads twenty past six and you knock on the frosted glass door. After three soft pounds do you take note of the tiny doorbell that is likely more effective. The small device’s appearance makes you sigh, thinking of how idiotic you were about not seeing it, how idiotic in general.

“Y/N?” You don’t realize he’s opened the door until Yoongi’s voice disrupts your misguided thoughts. You look up towards him. Yoongi can see the straining expression to appear indifferent, but it fails completely this time just in appearance alone. “Are you okay?”

“Not really, but we have a dumb date to go on.” You huff, reaching both of your hands to rub your face. Yoongi remains quiet, already not fond of the dates when you were both in at least average moods, but seeing you like this makes him hate the idea even more.

“There’s no time schedule.” He says simply, you narrow your eyes towards him in a lack of understanding, then your shoulders relax as he steps back opening the door wider. “Want to hear some of the stuff I’ve been working on and we can go out later when we’re both starving instead?”

You think of his consideration for your temperament and feel a little bad that Yoongi feels the need to accommodate, but you step inside anyways. It isn’t like he enjoys the dating, and putting it off for a while sounds like the best option. Not to mention, dismissing his attempts at kindness wouldn’t be best either.

Besides, you can’t say you weren’t curious at the prospect of listening to what Yoongi’s been working on.

You glance around the studio, noting the organized arrangements overall, yet homely in some aspects as well. The decor is limited to a few wall posters and mostly bare shelving, but his couch area looks like it isn’t new at all. The couch in particular looks a bit worn, and cluttered with a couple of blankets and a pillow. His small coffee table has only a single empty plastic cup on it, but you figure he keeps the place tidy or else there would definitely be more evidence of his caffeine vice than currently appearing.

“If you want to use the couch you can. I have some wireless headphones,” Yoongi tells you as he goes to the highlight of the room: a desk space covering the entirety of the wall. Bright with various electronic equipment and brand names that also inhabit space in your own apartment. But here the space appears validated by its placement in the company walls.

You sit on the edge of the couch, hands resting on his lap as you continue looking around the studio. It’s definitely one of the larger ones. Yoongi hands you the pair of headphones, and you situated them over your ears while he goes on in speech. “Whoa, wait what?” You cut in quickly, causing him to look back at you while he sits in his desk chair. “These things are really noise cancelling, sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Yoongi chuckles, rubbing his hair back from his face. “I was just saying I need to decorate more, but haven’t got around to it.” He slips a pair of headphones on too, leaving one ear free. “This is going to sound really rough, and there’s a gap where I’m waiting on someone to fill with vocals.”

You nod, smiling in anticipation without realizing so. The sight makes Yoongi glance away, biting his lip in sudden worry the track won’t sound as great as you may anticipate. He clicks to start anyways, listening in his own ears and simply keeping his eyes on the screen watching the point on the timeline move along.

Behind him you sit back into the cushion, trying to take in everything in one listen, despite the different levels of the song meshing together perfectly. Yoongi’s voice sounds completed in the song already, like he’s already reached a point of contentment in the sound in your opinion. “Your lyrics are really good.” You say, head swaying with the beat, staring at the empty cup instead of seeing if he’d turn to respond to you.

Yoongi catches the comment, tapping his finger on the desk, lips tightening and forming more pliable peaks on his cheeks from holding back a proud smile. He waits until the fade out, before finally facing you once more. Angles his chair slightly towards you, not all the way, trying to appear more calm than anything despite nerves still simmering quietly in his stomach because you are the first to hear this particular demo.

“Did you hear me about your lyrics?” You ask right away, sliding the headphones to rest atop your shoulders. Yoongi nods softly, mumbling about not wanting to interrupt when you were listening to say thanks. “They really, really are good.” You say again anyways, smile growing wider as Yoongi reaches to fiddle with his hair,

“Thanks again.” His voice is still quiet, something bashful about it as well. Satisfied, you think, but you continue on anyways,

“And your voice is controlled, like usual.” You sigh, leaning back, “I can’t get over it; you’re so great at singing and rapping.” Yoongi just shrugs, but you miss it while you adjust your sleeves off of your hands. “For it being incomplete, I’d still listen to it, even without the other person you’re waiting on.” Yoongi chuckles, shaking his head,

“That’s too high of praise, you’re messing with me now.”

“I’m not.” You interject firmly, sitting upright. Yoongi looks at you silently, but breaks it by rubbing his neck and speaking sincerely,

“Well, thank you. I was kind of nervous about this one actually. It’s pretty different than other songs I’ve made.”

“Yeah, it’s really on the edge of your usual stuff, I think.” You nod in agreement, settling your hand on your chin while you ponder. “But I’m sure it’ll do well. Besides what’s a better time to try new things than now, right?”

“I wanted to make it last year, actually.” Yoongi shifts on his chair, clicking open an email notification. The title reads a clothing brand, and he shuts it as he goes on and for a moment scrolls through other emails in case he’s missed anything important. “It was busy with the merger going on though. But the beat is inspired by a friend of mine’s style.”

You let the information fall into space, interested by the mention of a musical inspiration. You scan any ideas, but ultimately feel like you don’t know enough about Yoongi at all to make any verbal assumptions so you just joke, “Jin?”

“Oh,” You watch Yoongi pause, and turn on his seat, looking at you with widened eyes, “How’d you know?”

“Wait really?” Your eyes grow wide as well as the image of Seokjin passes through your mind as a music producer-

“No.”

“Hey,” Your eyes immediately narrow, paired ironically with reddening embarrassment in your face. Yoongi just scoffs, then all together laughs as you defiantly cross your arms. “Rude,” You mutter as his lips continue releasing his entirely humored melody. “He could’ve; you don’t know.”

“I don’t?” He counters, slumping back into his chair and looking at you with a raised eyebrow.

“He’s performed an entire masterpiece with chopsticks and shot glasses before, so, yeah, you don’t.” You try to refrain from releasing any of your own smiling, maintaining a serious gaze towards Yoongi as he believes none of it and nods once.

“I live to be proven wrong, I guess.” He turns to face his computer once more, rearranging the opened windows as though he intends to continue working like he had before you stopped by. At this realization your arms relax, and you think about what you should do so not to bother him, maybe grab coffee to bide the time, or mindlessly watch YouTube videos on your phone.

Yoongi interrupts the thoughts, “It might not be my place to offer, but if you ever wanted to talk--or vent about,” His head tilts as he decides against specific topics, “Anything… I’d listen.” His hand sits still on the mouse, hoping he doesn’t sound like he’s trying to overstep. Though with all the trouble you seem to have, Yoongi tries to ignore that worry, allowing the innocent concern to lead the offer along.

“I probably look like I’m always down about something, right?” Your voice trickles embarrassment and spite, sighing as you rub your hair and angle your neck towards his coffee table. Frankly, it’s tiring to continue each day dismayed by the amount of circumstances left out of your control. Quietly having to accept so much that no one else seems to have to bother with, especially where songwriting is concerned.

“Not always, no.” Yoongi responds, eyes on the monitor though he’s looking at nothing. Contemplative of phrasing. “But a lot has happened the past month, and not much of it is good for you. I may not be your closest friend, but I think anyone seeing you pretend to be okay this often would wonder if you want to talk.”

You stare at the glossy wood, thinking of the interaction between you and Jimin not long ago. Being the first time you had spoken to him, you hoped it would’ve been better, maybe even telling for what the future could hold, but that was all wishful thinking in the end. He still left. Still keeps an arm’s distance. “I just,” You pause feeling the air in your throat that you hadn’t expected to cloud your sentence. You swallow it down and bite your lip, noticing Yoongi’s movement in your peripherals as he faces you slightly. Likely checking. Your voice probably sounded ridiculous.

“It’s okay to not speak too. Whenever you’re ready.”

The sentiment feels as comforting as the way Yoongi’s voice says the words. Absent of condescension, wholly gentle and patient. Putting his ideas of what he thought of you when you met and he found out about your job aside, to simply focus on your troubles. Understanding when he really didn’t have to be. Even if you both were amicable, and freshly titled friends like he said; it’s not like Yoongi needed to offer a metaphorical shoulder, or a penny for your thoughts without an expiration date. The action gives you a tug forward.

“Jimin was at the meeting and I didn’t think he’d be there.” You finally murmur, trying to avoid eye contact as though the words itching to leave your mouth would hide if you did. “I didn’t want to break up with him--or,” You sigh, rubbing your hair as your head shakes, “We weren’t a couple, I can’t really call it a break up, huh?” You rhetorically question feelings silly for being wrapped up in this relationship when it wasn’t a proper one to begin with. “I just didn’t want it to end.” The words fade, spacing even more as you ponder sadly, “And seeing him doing well-- even though he said he misses us, it just makes me feel like I’m the only one unable to push forward.”

In the very least, Jimin’s more in control of himself than you’re showing to be. Strongly believing this is the best way to handle the problems that existed in the relationship and unmoving about it. If you think about it like that, then maybe it would be better to try and adhere to this idea, even with your feelings for him. If they aren’t reciprocated feelings, there really is no worth in you continuously falling deeper and deeper. It was always bound to hurt, you just wish it could have happened later; like you would whenever the separation inevitably happened.

“Whether it takes you longer than him or not to work through this isn’t a problem. I think you should let yourself take as long as you need.” Yoongi gazes without focus at an empty shelf he plans to display albums of artists he’s collaborated with. Considering the closeness you and Jimin evidently had, it’s completely acceptable that you would be saddened by it all, and for all Yoongi knows the relationship could’ve had knots and twists that he’d never guessed that would garner the need for you to take months to heal. “Also,” He starts, though he considers not saying anything at all in case it may be a statement he doesn’t have the right to speak to, but recalling all of the instances thus far that he’s been unable to help you at all, he lets himself finish, “I don’t think you should shove all of it down either… I bet that feels suffocating.”

You bite your lip, almost embarrassed that he’s noticed how upset you’ve been despite having known you only a couple of months. You thought you have done well so far to at least appear normal, but with Yoongi spending hours of random days solely with you, it’s plausible he has simply caught on. Somehow the fact alone didn’t feel bad. In the same way that you had Namjoon to turn to because he knows everything that’s going on, it feels comforting that Yoongi is there as well. At least in his accepting way, whether it’s deeper than that, you don’t know and lean towards doubt if only because you’re both not on close terms.

“So I should just cry in the middle of our dates?” You try at a joke, but the smile you give him is appreciative of his advice. Yoongi glances to you, chair still angled to the wall. He hears the slightly joking tone and shrugs to it,

“If you do it gives us an excuse to go home.” You giggle at the fact and don’t mention that Yerin would likely end up irritated by you both appearing like a mess in public.

“I’ll cry one week, and you cry the next then.” You tease, scooting further into his couch and realizing that its incredible plushness is why it’s worn and Yoongi’s likely kept it since his last company. He laughs at the idea, nodding his head, relaxing himself now that you seem a little better, or at least, he hopes, less inclined to force yourself to act happy. “Thanks, for letting me talk a little, by the way.” A quieter, sincere tone. Before he’s able to respond you continue, “It means a lot to me that you wanted to help. I know I’m kind of, I guess, distant with my feelings, but it’s nice to feel like I don’t have to hide it all with someone around the company. I won’t bother you with myself though, don’t worry.”

“I’m not worried about that.” Yoongi discerns the idea you may feel annoying and softly diverts the thought away. “Besides sometimes it’s okay to be selfish and rant anyways. You’re just trying to help yourself.” He glances to his computer as you only respond with a nod, perhaps not entirely believing his words, but that could be a building process. “Hey, actually, while we’re here, and since you’re a producer,” You lift your head up, immediately curious as he mentions the title. “You want to help me play around with this song idea I’ve been messing with for the past week?”

“Wait, really?” You practically beam the words like sunlight, refraining from a flustered smile at the idea, but Yoongi can tell by how you sit up that you’re more than willing.

“Yeah, I’m not really getting anywhere with it, and since I know you’re the one who wrote practically all of the songs I liked from this company, of course I’d want to work with you.” The growing smile on your face almost makes Yoongi feel embarrassed as well that you found the request so appealing. He briefly chuckles as you start to nod, and he smiles brightly asking in bewilderment,

“Is it that exciting? It’s just me who’s offering, anyways.”

“Says the guy who’s made so much music that I love.” Yoongi bites his lip, smile not hiding at the joy. Emulating your sudden upbeat demeanor, simply because it felt infectious, Yoongi gestures to his computer,

“Well then since we both love each other’s stuff, let’s make it the collaboration of the year.” A light-hearted joke, but you and Yoongi mutually think it’s suddenly an exciting idea to work with one another on a song. So you’re up to your feet in seconds, taking the few steps towards his work area as he clicks around the screen,

“Wait, you don’t expect me to stand and help do you?”

“Oh, right, I’ll get a chair.”

if you enjoy please, please let me know! i hope you enjoy the series, i’m working really hard on it! : )

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