#emotions are Always Extreme- there is very little gray area when it comes to how i feel tbh..... i'm either happy/content or i'm at extreme

[gr1evance]

1 and 4 for Strudel!!! 5, 6, and 8 for STARB!!!

for strudel:

1. What kind of person is your OC in a crisis? Are they calm and collected? Do they panic? Or are they chronically the cause?

oh in a crisis he will.. be one of the first to freak out about it. but not really in a loud way he tends to withdraw and just kind of want to hide for days on end. and it kind of eats him up inside because his whole thing is wanting to Be The Hero but. he cant really handle much anymore. especially considering the crisis hes currently in is VERY very life threatening i dont think anyone can handle it. but yeah he goes quiet or hides though on rare occassions he can push through enough to be a steadying force. but then he needs to go hide afterwards

4. Does your OC have a failed friendship or relationship they still think about? What happened? Is it an unresolved regret or is there a chance for reconciliation?

you could probably consider his relationship to patty to be that. they were still hero and villain enemies when the show got cancelled and they never really had a chance to resolve any of that. he always wanted to though even though they were trying to destroy the city because he just wanted to give them a chance since it seemed like no one ever had. but the show got cancelled before he could and now hes real and theyre not. he definitely still thinks about it a lot even though theres nothing he can do anymore

for starb:

5. Does your OC have a signature weapon and/or attack? How long did they train to master it?

one of his powers is being able to make these like big stars that he can throw to knock people back or use like a shield and i consider that his signature power probably. it took him.. a very very long time to get control of his powers so he could do stuff like that instead of Just Exploding

6. Does your OC know magic? Were they born with magical ability or did they train to acquire it? What is their favorite type of magic? Least favorite?

uuhhh well i wouldnt say Magic but he comes from like. superheroes world where most ppl have powers. he was born with his powers though theyre like. entirely emotion based and consist of like i mentioned above those stars he can summon they vary in sizes and when his powers are under control theyre generally glowing light yellow and rounded so they dont actually hurt people. but when he gets too emotional (any very strong emotion including positive ones) his powers get more dangerous and his stars specifically get a dull gray/white and are sharp and dangerous. when hes excited or just happy little cosmetic stars can like appear and float down around him. he also has slow falling which again he can only use when hes emotionally calm and healing which works by him like. again being calm but he has to wish to heal the person like wishing on a star its cute. and finally when his emotions are. extremely strong he does risk just straight up exploding, it doesnt injure him but it Is just an explosion to the area around him. he likes that he can help people with his powers now but ultimately hes kind of resentful of them and afraid of himself for all the harm he did in the past that was just an accident bc he couldnt control it. it very much haunts him

8. What was your OC's most embarrassing moment? Does it still bother them or are they able to shrug it off?

oh god.. im not sure honestly. i dont know if id count his past like. destruction and manslaughter as Embarrassing as much as traumatizing. i dont think he tends to get embarrassed too often? okay actually no i lied i think the entire time he was at scelestic after they kidnapped him and he met tesla (his husband) was the most embarrassing for him bc it was. really really gay. but he would never regret meeting his husband

#captains log #ask #lame-4-u #🌟 #🍩

[musicnoteso7]

A Night to Remember

Mentions: Co!Vegas, Co!Wilbur, and Co!Chayanne Warnings: Fires, and general angst Extra: I hope you enjoy Co!Vegas’ introduction!! :] ~ “You are my sunshine”

A father without his child is no man at all, a ruined one if any. The yearn for your child that is out of grasp as you cry hoping for their return. That was how Vegas felt the day Chayanne had run away, and how he feels now with it still being gone. A piece of him was missing, and he could not help but remember past memories of loved ones before xis sweet child.

-

“My only sunshine”

A dark room with a simple night light in the corner just enough to see a innocent smile come from his duckling's face as they sung her a sweet lullaby, hands strumming on a small ukulele with the comforting singing tone. In that moment there was no fear, no negative emotions in the man's body to take over him. Just them and his baby duck.

“You make me happy”

Soon the song came to an end and the man leaned over to ruffle his kids head. “Alright little duck, I think it’s about time for bed don’t you think?” Vegas asked with a small chuckle as he could already hear her whines and complaints. “Oh come on dear, what do you think your papa would think if I keep him waiting?”Another whine came out of her duckling's mouth but soon a nod.

“When skies are gray”

The man was about to leave heading towards the door when the child spoke once more. “Dada can I get a kiss before bed..?” She looked up, almost giving what most parents would call ‘puppy eyes’ but she didn’t have to ask twice. Vegas walked back over cupping his duckling's sweet face and leaning down giving her a small kiss on the head. “Goodnight, sweetheart.”

“You’ll never know. Dear”

A smile came to his face, if it would have been up to her he would have slept the entire night in his ducklings room just to keep her safe and happy. A sweet hum came out of his mouth as he headed down the hallway and to him and his husband's room flopping down on the other side of the mattress next to xis already sleeping lover. “Goodnight, mi amor..” and as he turned onto his side he fell asleep.

“How much I love you”

That night slot had woken up to a pit of smoke and a scream for his name from his duckling.

“Please don't take, My sunshine away”

-

Days upon days of walking around this town Vegas had learned two important details upon the area. That many bad things were known to happen around these towns in the area, including deaths and that a festival was coming up. A festival seemed like the very thing to entice Chayanne, he always liked games and competitions. Especially if there were prizes too, there was no way the kid would miss that. At least Vegas hoped so. Vegas was so off put about coming to this festival, as much as he wanted to find Chayanne he didn’t want to interrupt the fun with his mess of being a parent. Xe decided slot would keep it on the downlow and act as any other guest of the party. No one really liked making a scene at parties, even if a missing kid was extremely important, especially with all the troubles Chayanne tended to get itself into.

The night of the festival after many different thoughts upon it, Vegas became more worried about Chayanne than anything and decided to go. It was a slight walk from where Vegas was camping, especially since he got lost but eventually they found her way to the area. There were crowds of people, especially kids. A few times Vegas had mistaken a few of them for Chayanne leading to a few awkward situations. Everything was so overstimulating.

Still Vegas would not let himself continue to feel down about it. They simply would have to keep looking, surely the duck hybrid would find his little duck somewhere. As Vegas remembered an old thought he thought it would be best to take a look at the games and see if the kid was there. Walking up to the first one xe saw a man standing at it. The man had curly brown hair with flowers speckled throughout it, they were charming to say the least and for that one moment his curiosity peaked on something other than her missing child. “Hello there? Do you know how to play this game?” The man asked, walking up to the stand to see the man clearly holding a bow. “Uhh I do! Basically you just hit the targets! Hit all three and you get a prize!” The man's voice was comforting, so soft and had a slight accent that Vegas could not really pick up on. “A prize you say? Any certain one you are going for?” Xe asked curiously. “The polar bear, it looks quite silly!” The man replied with a light smile pointing at it in the prize display at the back of the stand. “You?” Vegas scanned the plush toys on the rack before his eyes landed on one of the duck plushies; it even had a silly suit. “Uhh the duck one! Haha matches me most one would say” A small flap of Vegas’ wings as he spoke about the kids toy. The man simply hummed before hitting all the targets with each shot he took. When the stranger was asked what prize they wanted he replied with “The little duck one with the suit” A small grin falling on the man's face. Vegas’ face grew hot at the kind gesture as once it was given to the stranger they gave it to him. “Thank you, looks like I have something to win for then.”

The duck hybrid stood up into the middle of the standing area of the stand taking a bow and three arrows as it was now his turn. He had not shot from a bow in what felt like years. Still with each shot landed on the middle of the target earning Vegas a little “Yes” as he pumped his arms in victory like a kid. “The polar bear please!” Once handed to him he handed it to the stranger with a small grin of his own. “Oh! Thank you!” With a small nod Vegas headed off the game booth and looked back at the stranger who began to speak once more. “My name is Wilbur by the way, I just recently moved into the area, maybe someday we will see each other again?” Vegas thought for a moment before nodding once more. “You might, I travel quite a lot so I do not know how long I will be here, but if you ever hear the name Vegas it’s probably me. Hopefully we meet again on maybe less.. Childish circumstances even if the games are fun haha” Xe said before waving and walking away back on the lookout for his child.

Vegas was not able to find Chayanne that night, but he couldn’t get the man he had met at the festival out of their mind. So nice compared to all the negative things xe had heard about these areas. It only made them more curious about the town. Still everything felt missing without their kid, longing for the hope that she was okay. Vegas had fallen asleep that night right when he got back to their tent, she wouldn’t admit it but she had fallen asleep holding the little duck plush that was given. What can he say? It was warm.

#cosmp #covegas #co!vegas #writing #cozysmp #angst #idk how tags work #charachterintroduction

[grayoakfamily]

How To Deal With Dental Anxiety

Many people may not know why they fear going to the dentist. They may not understand why their heart races when they enter their dental office. Sometimes this fear can be so powerful that they may feel out of control. When the fear of seeing the dentist causes extreme physical and emotional stress, this is called dental anxiety. 

Being a little nervous when seeing the dentist is normal. However, when the tense feeling turns into full-blown anxiety, where a person avoids visiting the dentist, receiving extra help to remain calm may be necessary. Avoiding the dentist is not the right way to deal with dental anxiety. Avoiding the dentist affects your oral health as well as your overall health. Dental fear, unfortunately, leads to your teeth and gums suffering a lack of proper care. It results in crucial dental and health issues. 

Dental anxiety must have to hold a person back from getting needed treatment. Having dental anxiety is very common, and almost all dental offices provide their patients with ways to help ease any fears they may have. 

Gray Oak Family Dental uses several methods to help ease their patients’ anxiety. We will give suggestions on what people can do on their own to calm their dental fears. 

For most people, dental anxiety occurs because they fear the pain they think dental procedures may cause. With advancements in the dental field, a person can almost always expect little or no discomfort. In the past, the only way to limit what a person would feel during a procedure was to apply local anesthesia to the area. It would require using a needle, which can cause fear and anxiety for many people.

Although Gray Oak Family Dental is still using local anesthesia, they also use sedation with or without local anesthesia. At our Sherman, Texas office, we provide three types of sedation to calm the dental anxiety of our patients. These three types include:

* Oral sedation – Oral sedation is in pill form you will drink before their appointment. Oral sedation allows each patient to be conscious but very relaxed.

* Nitrous oxide –  is the most commonly used sedation, also called the laughing gas. Nitrous oxide works by applying a nose cover over the patient nose, allowing them to breathe in the laughing gas. The patient is conscious but is relaxed and unaware of what is happening.

* IV sedation – When a person has IV sedation, they are not conscious during the procedure. Upon placing an IV in the patient’s arm, they become very relaxed to the point where they fall asleep until the treatment is over.

Although sedation is very effective in easing dental anxiety, there are also several things a person can do to help them relax before their appointment. Using easy suggestions can also help a person feel less anxious at their next dental visit. These suggestions include:

* Use relaxing breathing techniques 

* Listen to soothing music

* Have someone come with you

* Get to the appointment not too early

* Ask the dentist questions

Gray Oak Family Dental strives to make each patient dental experience as stress-free as possible. They desire to help their patients feel comfortable in their offices and maintain their oral health. At Gray Oak Family Dental, they devote themselves to helping their patients achieve the beautiful smiles they have always wanted. When a person experiences dental anxiety and avoids going to their dentist in Sherman, TX, oral health will suffer.

If you or someone you know is suffering from dental anxiety, it is significant to realize that you have to suffer anymore. At Gray Oak Family Dental, they work hard to make their patients comfortable. Each patient’s needs are very important to their Sherman Texas team. Contact their office today to learn more about how to combat dental anxiety.

#dentist sherman tx #dental treatment #dentist #dental care #dentistry #cosmeticdentistry

[bubsdolan]

OMG WAIT I MEANT 74 not 17 i’m so sorry

“I’m gonna fuck you so hard that you forget you ever even met that asshole.”, “Call me selfish, but I don’t ever want anyone else to touch you.”

smut masterlist.

“bro, have you heard from y/n? i sent her an email about a couple dates we’ve got coming up but she hasn’t replied,” grayson addressed him brother about the whereabouts of you, their assistant. after not hearing from you for a few hours, he was beginning to worry.

he quite frankly didn’t care about the dates, the overloading schedule or the work you were paid to do, he just needed peacr at mind to know if you were ok. he cared for you more than he liked to admit aloud. some call it love, but you were their assistant and he had to keep it strictly professional for the sake of his business.

“yeah, she phoned in sick. bro, he cheated on her, again,” ethan rolled his eyes at the mention of your boyfriend- well ex boyfriend. a man both twins disapproved of almost immediately after you introduced him to them. they were good judges of character and max, the spawn of satan in grayson’s eyes, failed the test the minute he stepped foot into their home.

grayson took a deeper hatredto max than ethan did. yes he was extremely jealous, but you also deserved to be treated like the queen you were and max certainly did not fit those standards. hell, grayson was starting to question if he even did. you needed him more than ever right now and there he was spamming your inbox with more work you certainly weren’t in the right frame of mind to deal with.

without even responding to his brother, grayson took off in hurry and headed straight to your apartment, blood boiling and body tense. a drive he had driven many a times before but tonight held a completely different meaning. he knew it was wrong, an invasion of privacy , but he was so concerned about you, that he used the key you gave him for emergencies to let himself in. your broken heart was the biggest emergency he could ever imagine. you needed him. he needed you. 

“y/n! you in here?” graysons pushes the your front door open with slight force, desperate to see you and comfort you in his arms. his heart broke at the sight of you bundled up on the sofa, surrounded by snotty tissues and empty food wrappers you used to eat your feelings away. you looked a mess, a broken shell of a human, however, you had never looked more beautiful in his eyes.

“angel-”

“gray? what are you doing here.. i saw your emails, i-i promise im not ignoring you, i just-”

“y/n, its ok. ethan told me what happened and i just needed to see if you were alright,” you immediately tried to make yourself look presentable in front of your boss. even though it was no use, to far gone, you always wanted to look the best for grayson- in prayers he would find you as attractive as you found him.

“i know you never liked him always. i guess this is an i told you so?” you tried to lighten the mood like you always did in uncomfortable situations- one thing grayson admired the most about you. you could sense just how pissed grayson was as he stood there with a tense jaw and clenched fists. was it wrong to find him sexy in that moment.

grayson took a seat next to you with caution, his hand subconsciously finding its place on your thigh and rubbing small comforting circles you never knew you needed until today. his touch held more of spark then anything with max during your entire relationship . you felt all your sadness suddenly wash away the minute grayson eyes burned into yours- and that’s when you knew you were in too deep.

the moment is peaceful, grayson laughs at your little joke but would never say the words ‘i told you so’, no matter how much he wanted to. you went though enough misery, he didn’t want to add to that. he wanted to save you from it. so instead, you simply bathed in the attention he was providing, your eyes holding his gaze as you soon felt yourself leaning in closer.

grayson’s body felt a gravitational pull towards you, unable to resist the urgers as he felt your hot breath fan over his face. his lips so close to your own, he could almost taste you. “y/n, i don’t wanna take advantage of you. you just got out of a serious relationship, as much as i want to i-“

“kiss me, grayson. please,” you whisper. pleading with the man of your dreams to take your heart and make it whole again. he made no effort to create a distance between you when he voiced his doubts, and that in turn had you crashing your lips together in a heated, desperate make out.

grayson grew more confident the more you kiss. already addicted to the taste of your lips as he gradually lowers his body down to hover over your own. staring down at you like a kid on christmas opening his most wished for gift. you could sense the uncertainty in his eyes whenever he would pull away and admire you. taking in the moment of finally having you. it warmed your heart at how gentle he was being, how attentive and soft. something you had been deprived off in your previous relationship.

“gray, i want this,” your hands connect around his neck to bring his head down and meet your lips once again. needing him more in the moment, that nothing else in the world truly mattered. in seconds you’re both stripped of your clothes, panting and whimpering with each other as grayson’s hand danced over your thighs. spreading your legs and admiring the glimmering sight of your slick pussy. it was prettier than he had ever imagined.

“i’m gonna fuck you so hard that you forget you ever even met that asshole.”, his words held meaning, all his pent up anger and emotion towards your failed relationship coming out as he does just that. rubbing the tip of throbbing dick around your hole, before slowly pushing in and allowing you to adjust to his size.

he was bigger than max that’s for sure. he had more girth and certainly knew what he was doing when it came to pleasing a lady. grayson hit all the right spots you never knew existsed inside your own body, his penis hitting lengths deep inside you that had your toes curling and nails digging into the delicate skin of his back.

“fuck, gray. faster, faster, ahh,” you throw your head back in utter euphoria. grayson bouncing off your moans and sexual energy as he pulled out briefly to tease you, before thrusting so hard into your folds that it had you jolting into his body. his hands held dominance on your hips, sure to leave bruising and mark his territory.

“you like this huh, mama. i bet he never made you cum, bet he never had you screaming, had you squirting and shaking like the little slut you are.”

this was a completely different and new side to grayson you had ever seen. the way his skin was slapping aggressively against your own, his balls hitting the curve of your arse with each and every thrust. his words- his filthy mouthwateringly pleasurable words had you on the very brink of the best orgasm of your life.

“tell me who’s pussy this belongs to,” grayson growls through gritted teeth. bringing a hand down to slap at the bud of your clit and rub at the sensitive area. it worked wonders in bringing you closer to cream around his dick.

“tell me, y/n or i stop.”

“yours! it’s yours, gray- shit,” you extend your head agasint the couch with a hearty moan. the feeling in your stomach so intense it has your body squirming under him. a fucked out sight he engraved in his memory.

“call me selfish, but i don’t ever want anyone else to touch you.” grayson never intended to go soft in such an intimate moment. he wanted to keep up the dominant act to please you, to show you what you had been missing out on and could very well have at the click of your fingers. but at the way you looked so wrecked from his motions, reacting to his cock and clenching around him, fitting in every inch he had to offer, had him falling in love with you a thousand times over.

“i love you- fuck, i love you, gray,” your confession brings him to a suddent hault. his penis stopping still buried inside your folds as he stared down at you with disbelief. was he dreaming? was this just another figment of his imagine? he was stunned. speechless. motionless.

“i mean it, grayson. i know i-i shouldn’t, but i love you. it’s you, it’s always been you.” overcome with such confidence, you bring your shaky hand up to brush the pad of your thumb against his delicate cheek. melting under him as you witness the biggest and brightest smile you had ever seen on such a beautiful man. a work of art.

the moment couldn’t have been more intimate. your body’s conjoined together, holding each other close and breaking the professional boundaries that were long forgotten. it was you and grayson, how it always should have been and will be till the end of time.

“i love you, baby. more than you’ll ever realise,” grayson leans down to kiss you. a smug feeling knowing he can now whenever he wanted to without reason, he could display his love for you without having to hide his true feelings. he feels your walls pulsating are around him as he made love to you. making him forget all about the life changing moment of your confession and continuing to fuck your tight cunt and show you that you made the right decision in falling in love with grayson dolan.

“now, let me show you what a real man feels like, baby. not gonna stop till i got you squirting around my dick a milliont times. we got some making up to do.”

#bubsdolan #grayson #grayson dolan #grayson dolan smut #grayson smut #grayson dolan imagine #grayson imagine #grayson dolan oneshot #grayson oneshot #grayson dolan fluff #grayson fluff #grayson dolan blurb #grayson blurb #grayson dolan fanfic #grayson fic #grayson dolan fic #grayson dolan x reader #grayson x reader #grayson concept #grayson dolan concept #dolan twins #dolan twins blurb #dolan twins concept #dolan twins imagine #dolan twins smut #dolan twins oneshot #dolan twins fluff #dolan twins x reader #dolan twins fanfic #dolan twins fic

[cheri-translates]

[CN] Season 2 Summary (Volume 2: Ch 2 - 5)

🍒 Warning: Detailed spoilers from S2 🍒

Along with the update on 3 June 2021, the CN server released a “Plot Review” which contains bullet-point summaries of S2 :>

Volume 1 Summary: here

Your company is suspected of distributing prohibited “Small Syringes”. While being questioned by reporters, Gavin handcuffs you, and you cooperate

“I’ll escort her myself.”

In the STF interrogation room, you don’t flinch despite repeated questioning, because you’re very clear about what you have to do. When Gavin comes to the interrogation room, he is very straightforward and asks what you wish to talk to him about

[Extra tidbit from Cheri] The person who interrogates MC at first is Tang Chao, whose Evol enables him to detect lies. Afterwards, he gets scolded by Gavin because he wasn’t supposed to be there LOL

It turns out that he already guessed that you were the one who lodged the report. This way, you could talk to Gavin in an absolutely safe location, and also lure the actual middleman involved in the distribution of the drugs

He never doubted your innocence

Gavin plans to use this opportunity to purge the STF of traitors. Through the surveillance cameras of STF, you watch as Gavin organises all sorts of work in a systematic manner. In his spare time, he pays close attention to you

After investigating them one by one, Gavin finally lock onto one particular STF agent

While an STF agent is sending you out, you feel that the situation is odd. Just as you formulate your conclusion, you hear Gavin’s urgent voice

“Get away from that person!”

Gavin fires a shot, and the bullet whizzes towards you

“That person is F-45!”

F-45, the traitor, has an ability to swap objects. He has a companion. Not only did he swap positions with his companion, but he also swapped positions with a STF badge. He has been lying low, waiting for an opportunity to take action. Now, he swaps positions with you, leaving you to die

At imminent peril, Gavin expedites his Evol to stop that bullet, then uses this chance to strike down F-45, who attempts a sneak attack. The identity of the other traitor is also confirmed - he’s a member bearing the serial number U-2. His ability is using sound to create explosions

U-2 uses his Evol to create a series of explosions. You and Gavin are left deep in the scene of the fire

Knowing full well that fire has a significant meaning to Gavin, you can’t help but feel very worried. But Gavin is far stronger than you think. Because of himself, and because of you, Gavin doesn’t retreat in the large fire, and finally subdues U-2, handcuffing him. Unexpectedly, U-2 uses his own body to create an even greater explosion!

You and Gavin eventually obtain a narrow victory, while the two traitors die in the sea of fire

From F-45′s final memories, you discover that they chose to serve an anti-Evol criminal organisation called Gray Rhino. It seems that there are more complexities and darkness hidden behind this incident

Gavin is sent to the hospital, and your company is formally cleared of all suspicion regarding the distribution of prohibited drugs. More importantly, you and Gavin have reunited again

In your heart, you're certain that even though the both of you are in different camps, you have mutual trust in each other, walking shoulder to shoulder on an even more rugged path, heading towards a future which won’t be destroyed

Your subordinate from Black Swan tells you that the STF has found the production factory for the “Small Syringes”. They seize the opportunity to shift ten boxes away in secret, and you tell them to analyse it as soon as possible

At the same time, you decide to produce a show related to Evol after a series of discussions in the community spring up after what happened with the company before. This way, more people can pay close attention to and ponder over Evol

Lucien accepts an interview on the show

Just as you recall how he had once said similar words, you sense that there’s something strange about a mother berating her son along the roadside. Under the mother’s continuous provocation, the boy’s Evol is stimulated and goes completely out of control. The gravity in the surroundings changes

You notice that this child was once given a dose of the “Small Syringes” by his mother

Being rolled into the area where gravity is in chaos, Lucien protects you with a white protective screen. With your assistance, Lucien replicates the boy’s gravity Evol, averting a disaster

Worried about this mother-son duo, you inquire about what will happen to them in the future. Lucien doesn’t give you a direct answer. Instead, he asks you a question - would you choose to pursue this matter or stay far away?

“In that case, continue searching. I look forward to your answer.”

You can see a glint of admiration in Lucien’s eyes

Afterwards, in order to make it easier for you to rest, he takes you to a desolate train station. Perhaps you didn’t realise it, but the two of you have already entered a strange space

The two of you board the train. While conversing with Lucien, you verify the importance of CORE, and also make clear that whether or not there is Evol, the world will continue to advance, and will continue to progress

You fall asleep on the train. When you wake up, what meets your vision is a wheat field with heavy snowfall

You once again hear the conversation you shared with Lucien when you were a child, but you hear an overlapping echo. Lucien explains that the dreamworld seems to be a suppressed memory

The two of you open a door. You see that the world is divided and upside down

Lucien says that this world hasn’t been divided, but “folded” - things that appeared to be going backwards are perhaps undergoing another form of advancement

In the dreamworld, the way you’ve pushed yourself over the years and the negative emotions surge forth. Fortunately, Lucien creates a tiny safety zone for you

“You can walk slowly. Knowing that you’re always walking is enough.”

Even though it’s a dreamworld, Lucien also tells you that the future you want will definitely exist

As Lucien leaves the dreamworld, he once again confirms the sense of misalignment that he had sensed

He vaguely senses that he has tossed aside a very long past, and decides to begin research on this world

At this moment, he notices an invitation card in his drawer

“You’ve worked hard.”

Away from the shoal, in the depths of a boundless ocean, Lucien continually sinks, gradually closing his eyes

You send a report containing the components of “Small Syringes” to Victor. However, he doesn’t check his e-mail as quickly as he usually does

While you’re feeling puzzled, you receive shocking news -

The CEO of LFG has met with a car accident

You immediately rush to his ward. Fortunately, he isn’t in a serious condition

For his safety, you arrange for a bodyguard to protect him in the hospital, but Victor flatly rejects this

“Since you’re this worried, stay behind personally.”

As such, you stay in the ward next door, keeping watch on Victor

In the ward, you hand over the results of your investigation to Victor. The analysis shows that there are extremely small traces of CORE in the “Small Syringes”. Gray Rhino, which allowed the drugs to be distributed, has always been against Evol. Perhaps they intend to use the drugs to harm people who wish to obtain Evol. You can’t help but wonder how that person with inky ash eyes is related to everything

Late at night, you spot Victor along the corridor as he observes the city lights. He tells you that he’s looking for someone. Meeting his meaningful gaze, you recall the promise you once made to “find the him from the past”. During this conversation, he also tells you that joining BS was meant for a greater benefit, and to see how far one can go with an Evol ability

You receive news that the driver who caused the accident has regained consciousness, and you plunge into his memories. You discover that because he became bankrupt after a lawsuit with LFG, he participated in the Hunter Game

While attempting to escape the game, he witnessed his camaraderies getting killed in the process. Just as you wonder if he attacked Victor because he had no other choice, a shadow slips into his ward, and he doesn’t have good intentions

You give Victor an urgent signal while attempting to flee

At this dangerous moment, you receive a message from the “past” -

“Why are you in a daze? Run!”

You take action, following Victor’s commands in your mind as you dodge

The person is stalled in the lift, and you fall into Victor’s arms. He pulls you to hide in a nearby room, and you manage to escape

When you had sent the warning earlier, Victor also received a message from the “past”, which enabled him find you

After Victor is discharged, the two of you conjecture that the Hunter Game could have been designed to target Evolvers. The reason why people were silenced after trying to escape could perhaps be due to the mastermind wanting to hide something

After you leave, Victor receives a corgi plush that you sent. He senses that when it comes to things related to you, he will inexplicably become a little more amiable

There are many problems to resolve, and all these conflicts point towards one source: the Black Swan CORE. He decides to personally take part in the Hunter Game as an individual participating in matched betting

On a certain day, the helicopter lands on the roof of LFG. Like always, Victor clarifies information pertaining to work with his employees

“The remaining approvals for today are to be left with Goldman for now. I’ll make time to have a look.”

At a certian location, a sniper rifle takes aim at him. In the next second, the trigger is pulled

You receive an invitation to the Hunter Game. At this moment, Kiro gives you a call to ask if you’ve seen anything strange. You mention the Hunter Game

Kiro’s voice turns disjointed. A man with inky ash eyes suddenly appears. Your mind grows hazy. Just before you completely lose consciousness, you see the symbol of a stone tablet, which has thistles and thorns on it

When you reawaken, you discover that you’ve been roped into the Hunter Game

You do your best to defeat a player who is attacking you. Unfortunately, you meet another person who is better skilled than you. Just as you’re suppressed and losing all hope, you hear a familiar voice. The person in front of you is Kiro

After dealing with the player, he pastes a microchip on the metal necklace you’re wearing. This way, your movements won’t be tracked. He also guides you to a hole of a tree which is concealed very well

In this insane game, you can finally rest for a while

“In this game, the only way to accumulate points is to attack others.”

You look at him, telling him resolutely that the two of you must leave this place safely

Just as you wonder how Kiro managed to enter the arena, the metal necklace gives out a reminder: it’s time for tools to be circulated

The two of you witness as a player is killed while fighting for tools. From this, you discover that players can temporarily strengthen their own Evol by injecting themselves with drugs provided by the game

Through an analysis, the two of you conjecture that the mastermind is also searching for CORE

At this moment, the game announces a mission - you have turned into the target of every single player

Fortunately, due to the tacit understanding you share with Kiro, your coordination enables the both of you to shake off numerous players. Afterwards, the two of you accidentally discover a strange building. Closely compacted infrared rays surround the building, which might result in gunfire. Withstanding the stress, Kiro opens his mini laptop and resolves the crisis before him

“This is the magic of a superhero!”

After saying this, he pulls you into a run towards the forest. The sudden explosions leave you two falling next to a precipice

Kiro grips your wrist tightly. Noticing that he’s straining himself, you think of asking him to let go. Seeming to see through your intentions, he tells you not to give up, and that he has already made arrangements

You choose to believe him

Just as what Kiro says, someone pulls the two of you up the cliff just before Kiro completely exhausts his energy

Kiro finds a way to remove the metal necklace. He looks at you with a gentle gaze, but you feel that something’s wrong-

“Now, have a good sleep. When you wake up, don’t mention this game to anyone. Then... forgive me.”

His Evol puts you into a deep sleep

He removes your silver necklace, puts it on his own neck, then leaves by himself

When you wake up, you find yourself in an underground passage. Just as you think of finding the exit as quickly as possible, you hear Shaw’s voice from the other side of the wall

You attempt to call out to him, but receive no response. Thinking it was just a misperception, you accelerate your footsteps, continuing to search for the exit

On the other side, Shaw has been trying to call you. Because your phone is turned off, and his phone is out of battery, he’s unable to contact you

[Extra tidbit from Cheri] He also attempts to charge his phone with his Evol but fails LOL

He pinches a photograph of a stone tablet. A symbol “8″ is engraved on the stone tablet which is surrounded by thistles and thorns

At this point, you, who were innocently roped into the Hunter Game, arrive at the exit and meet Shaw

“I didn’t expect you to be the one here.”

Shaw sits on the railway tracks as he looks at you, an icy smile on his lips

You pause where you are, testing the waters and asking him what he’s doing here

His tone brims with disdain and alienation. Even though you don't understand what he’s saying, you can sense a certain danger, and there seems to be a misunderstanding between the two of you

In the next moment, accompanied by the roar of a train’s whistle, the sound of thunder completely fills the horizon

Volume 3 (Ch 6 - 9): here

More S2 content: here

A detailed translation of Gavin’s part is available here!

#mlqc #mlqc cn #mlqc spoilers

[athena-is-a-chaotic-lil-shit]

Getting back at writing, is, well, hard. My grammar and vocabulary and basically everything is messed up so I apologize in advance for that. It's been, almost a year ever since my last written fic. That time I was still crazy with Kimetsu no Yaiba and the KyoTan ship. I'll post it some other time ^^.

Anyways, I present to you my attempt in making a plotted work from a random thought that came over me this morning.

Pairing: Tai'chi Kashharzol (Orc) x Pearl Blackbell (Human OC/Reader)

Warnings: Basically none. Except for some curse words.

UD 01/10/21: Cleaned and revised some parts! Tried my best, hope it was enough.

•

Of Ice and Blood

Part 1

Quick backstory and some details I left out in the main work.

It was in summer, 28th of July, when Pearl Blackbell turned 19. She left her home and moved closer to the university she’ll be going to. She rented an apartment about five blocks from the school. Albeit small, it was cozy and proper, having what she needed: a kitchen, a decent-sized bedroom, a small living area with a worn but comfy couch, and a bathroom.

When she was younger, her parents started training her in martial arts and the use self-defense weapons. They needed to make sure she knew how to protect herself against assaulters and dangerous people, she was after all, their only child and baby girl . They want their daughter to be strong, both inside and outside, by the time she sets out on her own and leaves home.

Her favorite self-defense weapon was brass knuckles, despite her parents’ protests. She enjoys punching nasty people and feel the crunch of their bones beneath her fists, especially racists, sexists, bullies, and the lot. The main reason why she got into detention multiple times.

Painting it with a ruddy color, she keeps it in her person, no matter where she goes. She has two, one is for extreme situations, while the other has only two knuckles. It stills maximizes the damage dealt but it is relatively less dangerous than the full dusters. The second one is usually a spare, though she rarely uses it.

She also occasionally carries a pair of retractable nunchucks, which she designed to be hidden within her regular baggy clothes. Her father had trained her vigorously with them and she even bested him in a match before she left for the city.

Selkoth, the city of marvels.

Distant sounds of buzzing cars reached my ears as I opened my eyes and blinked away the sleepiness, the light shining from the spaces in my curtains rather helping, together with the warmth it brought to my chilled tawny skin.

[Start of the actual work]

I fully woke up as I registered the sound of my phone alarm, shortly getting up to prepare when I realized what day it was.

Monday, the first day of my college life.

I stepped into the bathroom and took a quick shower, knowing I bathed thoroughly last night to save some time today.

Time management is key.

I dried myself down, turned to my closet and started putting on the outfit I picked out the night before.

Prioritizing comfortability over appearance, I wore my favorite orange cotton shirt, my blackish-blue hoodie (that had been stained with blood some time ago, but don’t worry, I know how to clean out blood. Mama raised no fool.) over it, together with a pair of black skinny jeans. And of course, tight black sports bra and boxers, even mentioning my underwear yes?

I looked over to my mirror and it was—

Simple. And I loved it. The more simple it is the better.

'“Keep a low profile over there, sweetie. Don’t get into fights when you can help it okay??? We already taught you and prepared you to the best of our abilities. Promise to us that you’ll stay safe, and healthy. Okay? And don’t forget to call sometime.”' I sighed, remembering my mother’s words.

"Yes mama, I will.”

With a smile, I did my hair and went for a tight Dutch braid, it going down between my shoulder blades and ending a little above my waist. I ran to my kitchen to eat breakfast, satisfied with my look.

I eat fast okay

Backpack, check. White sneakers, check. Phone and keys, check. Airpods on, playlist shuffled, I bolted out of my apartment and jogged all 50 blocks to school.

Exercise is always important, and what other way to utilize time for exercising than to do it while heading to your destination, right?

I snickered.

As I made my way to the university, I saw bizarre creatures and monsters of different sizes, coexisting, and interacting with humans. Even so, I noticed other people’s disdain and bitterness towards them when I passed by. My nose is awfully sensitive to scents that sometimes the ones their body releases tells me what they feel at the moment. It’s all science, I guess. I was made extra susceptible to these, so I wear a mask everywhere and every time I go out just to partly block most of the smells.

My first day at a university open to everyone across the country gets my blood pumping with excitement. To think that I’m going to study at Ernestine State University, the Ernestine State University!

I first heard about the uni back when I was a child. News broke out about Victor Ernestine, committing suicide by driving his car off a cliff because he couldn’t accept that his daughter was one of the major leaders who made the unity of all people, of all races, possible.

Dramatic.

Months after Mr. Ernestine died, all his properties and riches were passed down to her daughter, who took over as the new founder of the university and rebuilt it to accommodate everyone, no matter the size and shape.

The strictly all-human school, renovated, reshaped, and repurposed, was now the first university to open its gates to everyone in the country of Yundomia.

I’ve always yearned to get to know other species in this world. I didn’t get the chance previously because my parents sent me to an all-human, local high school. Which sucks. I hated how everyone had a certain hatred for the other races, especially orcs. They keep talking about how they are wild beasts and savages that aren’t meant to be in society.

They treated them like animals that are void of emotions and intelligence.

Come to think of it, I mostly fought with humans who were either racist, bullies, bastards trying to hit on me, or a mix of all of them together.

I chuckled, remembering how many times I got counseled on not punching people in the face.

High school was pure torture, being a human-exclusive campus making it worse, considering how everybody smells so horrible and the principal was an egoistic dumbass I was a hair away from gutting him. My poor nose.

But now I’m done with that! I’m starting anew in this school, in this city. Perhaps make some friends along the way.

Which is kinda problematic.

I’m not the social type. I tend to keep things to myself and hardly open up to anybody. I wanna make at least one friend that isn’t human! Or just, one good friend. I didn’t have or made any friends in the past since people tend to shun me out just because I can tell how they are feeling and find it creepy.

Or they’re afraid to get punched in the face.

Entering the campus gates was like stepping into another world. I was met with the sight of humans and monsters walking together and conversing! It was nice, and I don’t get to see this much often.

I walked around and took in the landscape of the campus. It was huge! And beautifully designed to have a great number of trees and plants, while also having space more than enough to accommodate every student going to their respective classrooms.

I was minding my own business and it was all serene, until some bastards pushed past through me and knocking me to the side. I stumbled but didn’t fall. I was gonna say something, but I shut my mouth. I didn’t want to cause any trouble on the first day for goodness’ sake. So I brushed it off and went straight to the gym for the orientation.

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

The orientation was, intriguing. The dean seems nice, though I couldn't smell him from where I sat. There's also a student council made up of both humans and monsters which is a good sign. The student council president was a Minotaur with a dark brown coat and horns curving front and pointing up. The vice-president was a male student who looked decent enough. The secretary was an elf. The treasurer, a dwarf. And the rest were humans. I couldn't scent any of them to tell me what they were feeling at the moment, but the Minotaur looked uncomfortable, his hands behind his back, body going stiff when they were introduced to the freshmen. There was a larger numbr of humans than monsters, which was expected. I also noticed how both were grouped, a white line in the middle of the gym separating us from them.

Maybe to avoid any misunderstandings?

We were informed that today will be for introductions to your classmates and subject teachers so there will be no lessons at all. Hooray!

I was walking to my first classroom when a damned familiar smell attacked my nose. I stopped to stand for a moment and adjusted my mask. I looked around to spot the one emitting it and of course, saw a human. He looked, well, the typical playboy cool boy who used too much body spray on himself.

Not wanting to stand there like an idiot and prolong my suffering, I speed walk to my classroom and planned to sit at the back hoping no one would notice or ask why I’m wearing a mask.

That's always what they ask first. Not my name or how I was doing.

I expected to find no one inside since it was still early, but I was startled to see a massive orc sitting at the back looking out at the window. He was wearing a dark gray knitted sweater that was hugging his hulking frame very…well. Along with what looked like thick cargo pants and black boots.

He turned to look at me when I let out a small yelp, greeting me with his piercing, blue eyes.

Beautiful.

The orc had long, braided, jet-black locks. Two of them had distinct beads that trailed down from the side of his face and down to his chest, the rest of his hair behind him braided with intricacy and tied and ended halfway down his back.

I was pushed out of my trance when a person entered and crashed into me, swearing under my breath that it was intentional, nearly making me plant face-first on the trash bins if I hadn’t changed my footing at the last moment.

“Watch it, bitch, you’re gonna ruin my make-up,” she snapped.

Wow. She dared to call me that and not apologize like I’m the one who shoved her. Just wow. Usually at this point, I would have planted her face on the floor, but I stopped myself.

Low profile! Low profile Pearl! You’re in college now! You definitely don’t want to get suspended on the first fucking day of class now do you?? Keep it together.

Straightening up, I walked towards the back and sat beside the orc. Whose gaze fell on me, curious, when I wasn’t looking.

I made myself settled in my seat before the professor came in.

There were other races in my class. A blue tiefling sat three rows in front, wearing a casual outfit. A black-haired elf who looked and dressed clever, a row away. A cute pink pixie on my far right. A satyr wearing glasses, two seats in front of me, and a female lizardfolk a seat from of the pixie.

"Are you...alright?"

I almost jumped from my seat when the orc beside me spoke. I couldn’t help but admire how deep his voice was. I tried not to appear flustered, my mask helped with that.

“Uh…yes?”

The orc regarded me for a second before continuing.

“You were pushed earlier.”

Oh. He saw that?

“Oh, yeah, I’m okay.” I smiled at him. Then I remembered he can’t see my face. But I hoped the crinkling of my eyes gave it away.

“I’m Pearl, by the way.” I reached out my hand to him, socializing not my best suit but at least I tried.

He paused for a second before taking it into his bigger one, engulfing mine and shook it slowly. I was again, surprised by how gentle he was.

“Tai'chi.”

Interesting.

“Nice to meet you, Tai'chi.”

He lets go of my hand when the professor started talking up front.

“Nice to meet you too, Pearl."

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

Thoughts? I am wide open for constructive criticism :D

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

Check pinned post for latest chapter updates💕

#orc x reader #orc #orc x human #orc lover #my writing #monster lover #monster x reader #fem!reader #monster x human #minotaur #elf #pixie #dwarf #lizardfolk #fantasy #bamf!fem reader #bamf!human #fiction writing #I'm so cranky and rusty #knuckle dusters or brass knuckles? #nunchucks #hoodies are the best #exophilia #monster boyfriend #original work #terato #orc boyfriend #art

[katsidhe]

could you share the descriptions of the answers? I'm bad at answering these quizzes cause I always get like 3 answers that fit but in different circumstances so I like seeing all of the descriptions

Yeah sure! I too wish uquiz gave an option to see all the result descriptions... alas. 

anyway here’s a wall of text, go nuts. 

DEAN-CODED DEAN GIRL

You might just be the hero of a YA fantasy novel or an action movie, because you have Big Protag Energy. You’re self-centered and extremely giving at the same time: you expect and demand absolute loyalty, just as you provide the same. Your love can move mountains, but if you’re not careful that same love can be suffocating or controlling. You’re volatile: you’ll cut a bitch and you don’t care who knows it. You’ll kick their ass. You’ll kick their dog’s ass. You’ll kick your own ass. You have a one-liner for every occasion. Your friends like you but would describe you as “a lot.” You’re magnetic: your charisma and sheer bull-headedness mean you stand out in every room. You’re polarizing, and you know it, but that doesn’t bother you: you know you’re right, and even when you’re wrong, you’re at least entertaining. You’re very “do as I say, not as I do:” you’re a bit of a hypocrite, but, like, in a fun way.  

Holotypes include: Dean Winchester (Supernatural), Thomas Jefferson (Hamilton), Sirius Black (Harry Potter), Kathryn Janeway (Star Trek: Voyager), Katara (ATLA), Vriska Serket (Homestuck)

DEAN-CODED SAM GIRL

You are a charmer and a people-pleaser. You’re charismatic to a fault, when you want to be: whether consciously or not, you have a razor-keen sense of how others see you, and you mold yourself to expectations. You can either talk circles around most people, or you come across as so fundamentally honest that you gain everyone’s trust without trying. Your affable persona is built on a rock-solid sense of purpose. You have a steadfast, deadset fixation on your goals, which you know in your heart to be worth any cost and any sacrifice. Armed with iron conviction, you’re a rebel with a cause. Is it paranoia if they really are all out to get you? When you inevitably win, the whole world will know your name. Your strong sense of self will carry you through any hardship. Your friends look up to you, but they don’t always “get” you. 

Holotypes include: Lucifer (Supernatural), Eponine (Les Mis), Count Olaf (A Series of Unfortunate Events), Prince Zuko (ATLA), Samwise Gamgee (LOTR), Karkat Vantas (Homestuck)

DEAN-CODED CAS GIRL 

Like all Dean-coded people, you are charming and affable, and you talk a big game. You might be the class clown or a popular athlete, or otherwise one of them cool kids, but underlying that public persona is a certain quiet idealism. You keep your strong convictions close to your heart, even when far from home or beset by strife. You’re fiercely loyal and you crave being around people, but you can see when your friends need space, and you can get along okay on your own. You’re not afraid to change your opinions if new information comes to light. Strangers find you easy to get along with: you tend to go along with the group, and you’re a team player no matter what needs to get done. Your chill-to-pull ratio is sky-high.

Holotypes include: Ahsoka (Star Wars), Meg (Supernatural), Percy Jackson (Percy Jackson), Ginny Weasley (Harry Potter), Boromir (LOTR), Jon Snow (Game of Thrones)

SAM-CODED DEAN GIRL

You come across as level headed, but you’re never more than an inch from going off the rails. Your highest values are love and personal loyalty, but you’re pragmatic about it, and you try very hard not to put unfair expectations on other people, with varying degrees of success. You spend a lot of time dealing with expectations; it’s something you either grapple with, or lean into to use to your own ends. You value your own sense of identity, but that identity can get subsumed by your loyalties. You can easily get pulled in or suborned by strong personalities. You keep secrets, both from yourself and from others. Who you want to be is at odds with how you see yourself. People meeting you for the first time might say you’re aloof. You have lots of strong opinions, but you usually keep them to yourself… unless provoked. Careful; you bite. 

Holotypes include: Mary Winchester (Supernatural), Harry Potter (Harry Potter), Aragorn (LOTR), Anakin Skywalker (Star Wars), Julian Bashir (Star Trek: Deep Space Nine), Katniss Everdeen (Hunger Games) 

SAM-CODED SAM GIRL

Gifted kid (diagnosis). You were and maybe still are an outsider, and because of that you’ve had to learn to be self-sufficient and confident in your own abilities. You’re a fiercely independent overachiever, and you’ve fought hard for every inch. Somewhere inside you is a hot, long simmering rage born from the injustice of the world, but it’s buried very deep. You’d be more than content to be alone for long periods of time. You have sometimes crippling perfectionism: if you aren’t succeeding, it’s your fault for not trying hard enough. You’ll pick every kind of intellectual fight and throw yourself into playing devil’s advocate just to improve your understanding: you see the gray areas in everything. You’re aggressively big-picture. You want to, no, you MUST change the universe, but you don’t need to take credit for it. Your few friends might describe you as callous, but you know you’re just being realistic: you’ve got a harsh, clear-eyed sense of the world. No pain, no gain, and really, if you do the math, no single individual is all that important in the grand scheme of things.  

Holotypes include: Kevin Tran (Supernatural), Jean Valjean (Les Miserables), Emperor Palpatine (Star Wars), Neville Longbottom (Harry Potter), Frodo Baggins (LOTR), Dirk Strider (Homestuck), Luke Castellan (Percy Jackson)

SAM-CODED CAS GIRL

You have a strong sense of how the world ought to be, but you have no overriding vision or big master plan: you take life day by day to fix the little things you can. You have very few close relationships, but those you have you treasure dearly. You support your few friends unconditionally, but you tend to be emotionally distant with acquaintances. You may be a bit of a pushover. You often find yourself put in the position of mediator. You loathe conflict, so you avoid it unless absolutely necessary--but once you’re truly angry, you’ll stop at nothing to see justice done. You’re a diplomat and an advocate: you are deeply idealistic, but you’re nevertheless strongly grounded in a pragmatic sense of achieving what you can. Philosophy is action, action is philosophy; you like meditation and self-improvement and have probably done at least one juice cleanse. Both friends and strangers describe you as quietly dependable. If you can’t see the trauma, the trauma can’t see you! That’s just science!

Holotypes include: Sam Winchester (Supernatural), BJ Hunnicut (M*A*S*H), Jean-Luc Picard (Star Trek: The Next Generation), Aang (ATLA), Luke Skywalker (Star Wars), Nico di Angelo (Percy Jackson)

CAS-CODED DEAN GIRL

Much of your identity is tied up in a set of core beliefs - to the point where those beliefs might be strong enough to override your identity. You’re not beholden to any outside system. If you’re comfortable serving a larger common goal, it’s because you believe in it wholeheartedly. You’re action-oriented: you act first, and think later, or possibly never. You judge your friends solely based on what they do, and you tend to hold people accountable for any unforeseen consequences of their choices. You have strong personal loyalties. You’re not at the center of your social circle, but your friends trust you implicitly and the leader of your group tends to confide in you. You don’t seek power, but you’re also not afraid of taking charge, and you may find power thrust upon you. If you do find yourself in a position of leadership, you struggle with going too far or taking your friends in an unexpected direction. Whether you’re fighting in a war or making yourself a sandwich, you go hard in the motherfuckin’ paint.

Holotypes include: Castiel (Supernatural), Javert (Les Miserables), Captain Rex (Star Wars), Kanaya Maryam (Homestuck), Worf (Star Trek), Albus Dumbledore (Harry Potter)

CAS-CODED SAM GIRL

I mean this in the nicest possible way, but you’re a bit weird. You are spacey or odd or otherwise out of step with how people think you should act, but that’s fine. It doesn’t matter what they think, because if you’re sure of one thing, it’s that you should never mold your unique identity to other people’s expectations. You live internally: you’re all about grand, world-changing concepts, whether they be philosophical, artistic, or mathematical. You are grounded in the reality that you are one person and one viewpoint among many others, but that doesn’t stop you from writing your nine-hundred page thesis on the topic you’re passionate about. You can justify just about anything by the virtue of your personal convictions arising almost entirely from within yourself. Your identity can get swept up in your big ideas. You’re easier to sway with logic than with emotion, but you don’t feel the need to confine yourself with such terms: you operate on both vibes and flowcharts. You move through the world with the assurance that you are the master of your own fate, and you are unburdened by worrying about the opinions of others. You won’t let yourself feel pinned down by one social group; you float in and out comfortably, depending on how you’re feeling. Friends and strangers describe you as “spooky.”

Holotypes include: Azazel (Supernatural), Luna Lovegood (Harry Potter), Aaron Burr (Hamilton), Princess Azula (ATLA), Yoda (Star Wars), Jadzia Dax (Star Trek: Deep Space Nine), Terezi Pyrope (Homestuck)

CAS-CODED CAS GIRL

You are chaotic and excitable. You’re swayed by the drive to explore: the greatest good is to understand the universe and your place in it. You’ve got big ideas, and you’re drawn to new experiences, but you don’t necessarily understand what’s going on. You might be a part of a bigger social machine, but that doesn’t mean you’ll be defined on its terms: you’ll self-actualize if it kills you. You identify new objects by licking them. You can see the strings of the world; what will you choose? You’ll take the reins and see where they take you. You say you’re following your own path. Your friends say you don’t know what you’re doing. Pragmatism? Never heard of her. A dream is a vision is a reality; ideas are the world writ large. You might be a prophet or a visionary. With your head in the clouds, you’re sometimes divorced from both reality and consequences. You’re usually on the outside looking in, and you don’t want to be. People think they understand you, but they definitely don’t. Your friends and enemies describe you as impulsive and mysterious. 

Holotypes include: Raphael (Supernatural), Uncle Iroh (ATLA), Draco Malfoy (Harry Potter), Data (Star Trek: The Next Generation), Obi-Wan Kenobi (Star Wars), Gandalf (LOTR)

#x coded y girl #i speaks #my quiz #long post for ts #why doesn't uquiz give that as an option? #and while we're at it why won't uquiz let me click one button to read all the text box responses ppl gave me :( #aromanticbristlefrost

[dropsofletters]

unintended consequences

title: unintended consequences pairing: kim dongyoung/reader genre: meet messy!au/interviewer!au/actor!au/enemies to coworkers to lovers!au summary: kim dongyoung, kim dongyoung...who the hell is kim dongyoung? the question ran through her head endlessly when she was in the middle of a red carpet, having studied enough about everyone to take place on any interview, but something about his name just didn’t connect to her memory. the recording of their interview, extremely awkward and improvised, ends up in the most well-known of sites, viral thanks to its awkward repetition from phone to phone. oh, she knows who kim dongyoung is—the reason why she lost her job as an interviewer. type: fluff/angst/romance/humor/drama word count: 26,229

Everything is about imagination. Romance is, in a way, part of our imagination. With our own very nerves, we craft images of who we imagine to be our soulmate—the reception of our interests in said person translates into connections of love and desire. Working is about imagination, too. Those who are creative will, forever and always, end up at the very top of work ladders. The reason? Simplistic. People love a good image, a nice daydream, a mind that will always look ahead, more profoundly, whose mind will always be running and creating more and more. Endless, this cycle is, but in her line of work…reality is reality.

Gossip magazines are known for their exaggerations. Two actors could be dating and suddenly it’s blasted as some irrationality. People could simply smoke a cigarette and it’s already on every headline. Nonetheless, this is the side that people judge—paparazzi with cameras, interviewers that pry too much, non-studious people who make money out of exploiting the real artistic essence of interest. Plucking those misconceptions away is as tough as the word can get. Hated. Ignored.

Forgotten.

Typical journalists never last in her environment. The box is already complicated; three-dimensional, understandably so, and she has to stand out from that. Her strong fingertips—all caused by endless hours of typing on a computer to get her column to be filled with interesting, yet professionally acceptable articles—are holding onto a pen. Ink-less, it is, glistening on its platinum glow when she holds it close to the man in front of her. Sprawled on a love-seat, to be exact, eyes widened with adoration the more she repeats the questions that shall be delivered elegantly to actors and actresses alike in less than twenty-four hours.

“Mr. Lim, it’s a pleasure to see you here on our red carpet today,” This is typical. Studied. The type of interviewer greeting that comes with those who are fashion enthusiasts or simply socialites asking surface-level questions. However, this is not who she is.

The ups and downs of her cameraman’s voice sounds like puberty. Growth of a twenty-seven-year-old man, in a way, someone who clearly keeps his youth even with the passage of time. Nothing like the actor she has in mind, but no less intriguing than any other celebrity could be. Jason fixes his glasses, plays with the strands of his bleached hair before speaking. “The pleasure is mine.”

“Your last movie was inspired on a memoir written in 2004. What do you think are the correlations between yourself and this character, inspired on a real person?” Like an arrow, questions should be aimed to celebrities to judge them as thinking and reasonable beings. To be a performer, there needs to be some capability of learning lines—but the strength of the delivery of emotions is worth studying. While her articles may not be the most popular in between headlines, for they are not captivating enough or filled with drama, they are…hers. They study what real actors want to be asked; about their performance, not their personal lives.

This imaginary microphone—a pen, if she’s honest—is taken in between the long and skinny fingertips of her partner in crime. Jason, whose face is normally behind a camera pointed at her, and who has accompanied her through thick and thin while building her career. The skies suddenly changed their dulled colors when her boss, finally, rang her phone for something else other than complaining about lack of substance in her articles. For the first time in her journalistic career, she gets to do something important. Interview celebrities live while on the red carpet. “Oh my fucking— You’re going to kill this. I claim it.” Jason’s high voice speaks through the air, pulling the hood of his sweater over his head just when he stands up.

Other than him, no one would know that her eyes can barely stay open after endless studying of the latest works of each of the invitees to the red carpet. Every single one of them, written down on a document, read by her at any given time in which she doesn’t have to work on articles. From movies, to shows, to musicals, to personal relationships, to anything of the like; confirmed invitees were studied by her, ready to ask just the right questions for cinematography enthusiasts. “You really think so?” The hopefulness of her voice shouldn’t have showed through in such a lightweight matter. Her pen rests on her chest, hands clasped together in what seems to be naivety. “Because I’ve been studying every question for the past two months.”

“Well, duh,” Jason’s voice rings through the hotel room when he leans over her vanity, playing with the strands of his hair to fix it. Hours of the journalist interviewing him must have taken a toll on his look, tired beyond relief. “You’re the most intelligent of our team. Only you would prepare this much.”

Questionable, really. She is the most enthusiastic of her team; the only one that remembers the exact day in which journalists are celebrated worldwide, the only one that reads articles and departs them as books, whose diction battled the ones that beauty pageant contestants had to practice, because she believes in the magic of interviewing. It shouldn’t be about asking: ‘Who designed your dress?’ if it’s not Fashion Week. Talking to actors should deal with acting. “I prepare this much because I’m not exactly the smartest of the bunch, you know?”

With a quick motion of his legs, Jason turns around to look at her, long body seated on top of the vanity. “Don’t steal my title. I’m a cameraman for a reason.”

A small smack to his shoulder should suffice, much more now that she can finally close the document on her tablet and let out that one breath that had been suffocating her for the past hour of asking Jason any possible question to every invitee of the red carpet. “Now that this is over…I should really start worrying about what to wear tomorrow.”

Freeze-frame worthy is Jason’s face when he hears those words escaping her lips. “Y—You still haven’t thought of your outfit?”

Staring down at her t-shirt and leggings, the shake of her head is given. “I’m not much of a fashion lady.” She replies, quite clear in the way she seems to have, at least, three gray t-shirts in her wardrobe and a lot more leggings than she’d like to admit. “Hyoyeon sent me some clothing for me to wear. Some dresses and whatnot, but I haven’t even opened the box. I’ve been too busy revising—”

“Where’s the box?”

“On top of my luggage, why—?” The question is not finished when she watches Jason overtake the room with long, purposeful strides, taking the big box in between certain fingers before dropping the package on top of her undone hotel bed. “…Okay, let’s look at what I have here, I guess.”

“I am the one deciding.”

“Uh…why?” She asks, resting her hand on top of the lid before Jason could open it, but for someone so skinny he seems to have a bit of strength in him, popping it open even through her attempts of stopping him.

“You’d pick whatever is most similar to t-shirts and leggings, and let me tell you something: you’re going to be live to the world tomorrow. Through YouTube or the TV, people are going to look at you.” As if the constant names, questions and reminders inside her head are not stressful enough, Jason’s words seem to deflate her confidence a bit. Maybe…she should have taken more care of what she is going to wear tomorrow. “And I may not look like it, but my girlfriend is a columnist in the fashion area of our magazine, and also the one that sent you this package, so I get to pick.”

The blossoming love between the tech enthusiast, sci-fi lover, cameraman Jason and Hyoyeon, a fashionable woman with love for Louis Vuitton more than life itself, will never be understood by her. But, in comparison, Jason does dress slightly better than her, and he plays around with patterns and colors more than she does. “I’ll let you as long as you pick something nice.”

His fingers wrap around the last piece of clothing, a violet dress that screams ‘90’s diva’. Fitted all around, with a few shining spots under the faux lights of the hotel room (is it nighttime already? She wonders), the straps show support to the delicate, yet there, neckline, length supposed to reach a little bit under the middle of her thighs. “I know mad shit about dresses, but this one looks like it could make you look good—”

“And like I’d want to show my boobs to the entire country in a live interview.” She concludes, deep frown only highlighted when she realizes how her arms are crossed over her chest. “Hyoyeon always wants to get me in dresses, but I swear to God—” Still, plastered on Jason’s face, is a look that tells her to wear it. “I haven’t even shaved my legs and I’m not going to wear something that will make me look bad.”

“You’ve never tried a dress like this.” Jason says. “Besides, don’t you think it’s pretty?”

“It is,” The mumble she gives out is cut short when her hand reaches forward to feel the fabric. Soft, tight, it looks like it’d give a nice shape, too. “Should I just go for it?”

“If Hyoyeon picked it, I’m sure no one is going to think it’s a bad look.” The cameraman conquers, reaching inside the box to point out different dresses. “And the rest are even more revealing.”

“What’s with Hyoyeon and having me wear revealing dresses?”

“Ask her, not me.” Jason points out, tossing the dress towards her way before she sighs.

“If this dress doesn’t work out, I’m wearing a t-shirt and some leggings.”

“It’ll work out.”

She doesn’t know if she wants him to tell her that about the interview or the dress, but with her mind preoccupied with other matters, her hands hook around the dress, moving to the bathroom to try it on and forget about the pressure of her interview program for the slightest bit.

###

The energy is buzzing, even for everyone who watches through a screen. Translated into absolute delight; a night of recognition and love to the most given and talented of actors, actresses and performers, all given to a red carpet. If someone dared to squint and look at her, they’d see just how confident she is, despite the dress that has her shying away with her body language. One arm crossed over her chest, taking leverage on the elbow that crooks up to hold the microphone up to the actors and actresses that come over to her; legs crossed, some would think her heels must be killing her in the position she is, but the choice made by Hyoyeon in what shoes consist of is not necessarily uncomfortable. If anything, the breeze is what makes her feel most uneasy, as well as the weight of the jewelry falling from her earlobes, the necklace resting in between her collarbones and down her chest. Of course, not to forget the tightness of the dress, just a little bit too revealing for her liking.

Glitter in everyone’s gazes. Shining. Rich. Everyone on there is dressed to utmost perfection, pride on their faces from the hard work, earned through recording, shooting, scripting, producing, acting and the words are told by themselves. The invitees drop one by one, specially in the order that she had studied—the sources of her magazine are rarely wrong, after all. The camera is pointed at her, but most of the time concentrating on the celebrity ahead of them. The questions flow from her lips elegantly, smartly, at one point she really thinks she is just simply having fun, jitters of happiness fluttering up her stomach and bringing a smile to her face.

This is what hard work looks like. Rather, the conclusion of it.

Thunder is not what breaks the atmosphere of tranquility, for the afternoon is too heated to change weathers so suddenly, but the shouts and screams of overexcited fans could have made her fall out of pure surprise. Scanning the red carpet, in between the masses of photographers going crazy to take pictures of this one celebrity, her eyes meet the person that seemed to have destroyed the afternoon—and night—for other fellow performers.

An angel in disguise, some would call him, with that serious look on the expression of the man now standing on the red carpet. The white suit on his body is fitted, put exactly to the width of his shoulders, to fit the length of his long legs and make him look like the epitome of a daydream. She can already imagine the magazines going crazy about this one outfit on this…unknown celebrity. This…whoever this is.

No companion, she notices. The black-haired angel moves further in front of the cameras, now approaching interviewers one by one, but she can’t still find a name for him. Of course, he has to be known—the cheers for him say so much about it, of fame and overrated-ness, but the name never comes up to her mind, or it never reads in her mental image of the list of invites.

Who, out of the invitees, would have such a face? Such physique, that she can’t find words in the tip of her tongue, can’t speak like the skilled journalist she is.

That comma hairstyle frames his oval-shaped face perfectly, as if made for him. His eyes, leaned upwards, are the most powerful point of his face, paired with straight eyebrows that, in one way or another, give him an air of mightiness. His nose, short, small, as if crafted by an artist—and those lips, that had little to no importance for her, until he gave a smile to the interviewer next to her, moving closer and closer to her spot.

And who the fuck is this guy?!

What can she even ask him?

Taking Jason by the shoulder, and thankful that they are on commercial break, she leans over to talk to him away from the microphone. Better, it is, to avoid mistakes. “Who is this guy?”

“Kim Dongyoung. Duh.” Jason says in a hushed whisper, earning a glare from her and a scrunch of her nose.

“Who the hell is Kim Dongyoung?”

Not enough time is given to her when cheers get closer to where she is and once, she turns, the sight of the unknown celebrity has her swallowing harshly. Throughout her two years of her professional journalistic career, she has never been the type to embark in small, fast conversation in interviews. Not even for the written ones. In the depths of her brain, asking for something simplistic just speaks wonders about her research skills, but in this one occasion, she’s left stranded, looking ahead at the man who shares a smile with her before looking towards the camera—

“We’re on air.”

With numb fingers, her microphone goes forward for Dongyoung to speak. She has one of her own, practically pressed to the side of her face. Much to her distaste, however, her shaking motions must have caught him off guard, immensely so now that his lip is hit by the microphone, that precious gummy grin of his long forgotten. “Oh, sorry.” She speaks fast, as quickly as she can without making it suspicious. “Welcome, Kim Dongyoung. It’s a pleasure to have you on our show.”

Dongyoung, whose face is now filled with seriousness, tries to give a tight-lipped smile as he raises his hand to shush the waves of fans cheering for him. “The pleasure is mine. I’m a huge fan.”

Oh. Oh, fuck, he shouldn’t have said that. This is a clear sign that he wants a nice interview, one that cannot be made up from the ignorance of her brain. Since when was he invited?! “So are we.” Lying through her teeth seems like the fitted option as of now. One look at his brown eyes has her breath caught on her throat, her free hand twisting behind her back. “Dongyoung, who designed your suit?”

…This is not the kind of journalist she is, much less the kind of interviewer she desires to be, and the stare Dongyoung gives to his body is brief before parting his lips to answer, equally as monotone as her voice: “Prada.” His fingers toy with the edge of his white blazer, making her speak into her microphone.

“It looks good.”

“Thank you. This night is very special for me, so me and my team had been working to put this look together for so long.”

“So…” A trailing voice, uncertain eyes, an actor like him must have noticed the tightness of her movements, the sweat pooling by her forehead, the absolute fear of fucking this up. Her mind, however, going a million miles per hour, tries to think of movies or shows that he has been in. “That’s nice, actually. Yeah, pretty nice. It’s rare to see someone like you without a companion, is anyone going to join you soon?”

Dongyoung’s eyebrows turn into a frown, body visibly tensing the more he straightens his back, as if wanting to pull away from her. One stare into his group of fans has her realizing that they’ve fallen quiet, much like the actor in front of her. This is the moment she feels as though her walls are crumbling down, knees shaking and failing to control the weight on her heels, wanting nothing more than to erase herself out of existence. For a second. A brief one. “Not really. I—Uh, I’m in a moment of my life where I consider I should be judged by my talent, not who I’m accompanied by.”

“Of course,” And then, it clicks. That name…that name sounds similar to one she had read, perhaps she could come up with something— “In the movie Homme Fatale, you were bound to mix the historical genre with comedy? What were the hardships of mixing the comedic relief of your character along with such a serious matter—?”

In the blink of an eye, Dongyoung leans over the microphone. Face vacant of that liveliness that represented him at the beginning of the interview, lips quirking up in a sarcastic smile that barely lasts when he says. “Well, I wouldn’t know, because that’s a movie my brother was in. Not me.”

Shit, Kim Gong Myung, not Kim Dongyoung— “Ah, yeah, my bad,” A brief chuckle leaves her lips, staring towards the camera before resting her hand against her forehead. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s alright.” Dongyoung says, looking over to the side where his manager is making signs for him to pull away as soon as possible, simply giving a curt nod. “Thanks for the support to my brother, either way.”

“I—”

“Everyone, have a nice night.” The speech is given to the camera, a wave of his hand and soon after, he’s gone into the masses of people, leaving her with her heart racing rapidly when—thankfully—another commercial break resurfaces. Fear, all coming from embarrassment, the tears that threaten to appear on her eyes are blown away by Jason. Quite literally. The man that supports her through everything is blowing soft gushes of air on her eyes while she looks up to stop the crying.

“Don’t cry. Don’t cry. You still have other interviews to do—”

“I’m going to fuck it up. Let’s just cut it right here.” Her voice breaks, long gone that posture of a journalist she had, and it takes a few movements of her hands to blow air at her eyes to stop the tears. Though, the shaking continues to be there. “I didn’t even know who he was.”

“How didn’t you—? You know what? Whatever. It happens. You just need to move on and pretend nothing happened.”

Though, there are matters in life that are meant to be lessons, and with her nose still sniffling away the embarrassment from before, she continues on with this huge lesson of life. Mistakes are made by everyone, just that not a lot of people end up doing them on live TV. It will be alright, as long as not that many people were tuning it, it is going to be a forgettable interview.

…Or, she hopes the twenty-five thousand viewers think the same way.

###

You know, for someone who didn’t give two shits about multiplication back in elementary school, it has become a huge karma in her life. Twenty-five thousand views on a livestream of a red carpet had turned into one hundred thousand views on a YouTube video, soon after reaching the one-million-views milestone. At this point, five days after the incident, she is terrified of even looking at her phone, much less searching her name up on YouTube to see the amount of views on her worst, most memorable interview.

Her bet goes on five million views, but she may lose her money at this point.

Not to say that she had not looked at the video of her imminent death, the moment her soul left her body and dissipated into the limbo, a hell so much worse than Dante’s inferno; because, in retrospect, she has, a bunch of times on the day after the red carpet. Her pride teared apart just a little bit more when she saw the expressions on Dongyoung’s face, lips parted in an uncomfortable smile, eyes widened when her words ruined the moment a little bit more. His body tensed, broad shoulders moving uncontrollably at one point, needing to find a way to get out of there as soon as possible. His image could have been tainted by this, perhaps his expressions would be laughed at on the internet once the initial shock passes by, but he would never lose as much as she did. Her job, to be exact, coming from the text her boss had sent her three days ago.

This is what people fail to express after putting celebrities on a pedestal. That they, on the long run, could be the cause of someone’s destruction with the power they have. Dongyoung, though looking like an angel that night, had destroyed her entire career in the blink of an eye, like a wrecking ball that overtook everything in her life. The world hated to see one of the most beloved actors not be recognized by someone who did their best on an interview with someone they didn’t even know, and as always, journalists are placed on the villain role. It’s fitted for them. It’s fitted for her.

It’s the reason why, even as of now, seated in front of Hyoyeon and Jason, there are people looking at her. Young fans, to be exact, perhaps teenagers, going crazy over the fact that actor Kim Dongyoung had an awkward moment once in his life.

What about her?

What about her job?

The clicking of cameras is what has her sighing, stabbing more of the greasy, soy-sauce coated noodles in front of her, not caring that they are steaming when she plops them inside her mouth with a devastated sigh soon after. It’s even more pathetic that, once she pays for this meal, it will mean a negative sign in her savings, which she should be taking into consideration for paying her rent. Who would even want her as a journalist anymore? After all, she embarrassed the ‘it-boy’ of acting in public television.

The first person to react is Hyoyeon, already dragging her seat with a loud shriek before sticking her chest forward at the group of teenagers harassing them with pictures. “They better not bother you in here. You’ve barely eaten the past few days and I’m going to kick their asses if they make you feel any worse.” But Hyoyeon doesn’t realize that being protected by the ‘mom-friend’ of the group is even more degrading. Once back on her seat, with her left hand resting on top of Jason’s thigh under the table, Hyoyeon’s eyes look for hers, but she doesn’t relent. “Don’t pay attention to them—”

“How can I not? I get death threats in the mail, Hyoyeon. People hate me around the entire country.” She points out, watching the noodles swirl on her plate, leaving imprints of sauce on the white ceramic. “It’s not my fault I just didn’t know who Kim Dongyoung was. Sorry, I’m not one of the women that gets their panties wet while watching one of his movies. I haven’t even watched any of them.”

Jason, as dumbly charming as he is, speaks from his spot, fixing the thick bottle-lenses glasses from falling from the bridge of his nose. “You actually should. Dongyoung is an expert in mystery movies. I haven’t watched any actor do it like him—ouch.”

A sharp pinch on his thigh from his girlfriend must be what cut his sentence short, having Hyoyeon give her a faint smile. “They’re not that good, honey. If he has not made a statement to the public after that awkward interview, that means he’s not a good person.”

Does it? Lately, she has been questioning that endlessly. Maybe, she should have really studied more—let the confidence slide and grip onto some nervousness. Perhaps, Dongyoung was equally as uncomfortable as her. Not because she didn’t recognize him, but because she had asked him exactly what would have hurt him at the time— “I get him, though. He just got out a break-up scandal, I’m sure his team is telling him to let the wolves eat me alive and then, he’s off the hook.”

Hyoyeon, now even more interested, picks a nice amount of noodles up with her chopsticks before speaking up once again. “About that…Yuno was the one to write an article about Dongyoung’s break-up in our magazine, and the sources say that he’s the one who cheated. Though, it has always seemed fishy to me.”

The adoration in Jason’s face is clear when he nods at his girlfriend. “Yeah, I also read over it. It is told that he cheated, but it’s never said with who or why or when or how.”

“Guys, he’s a celebrity.” She cuts the chase, the past few days making her hyperaware of her surroundings, of the reality she has lived and the world that she had tried to push herself into. “Celebrities are like that. They have everything but they always want more. I’m not surprised.” Though, part of her mind had always wanted to treat celebrities more than an image. Thinking individuals, able to feel passion and love for what they do, humans just like her that are excited about cinematography, art, speaking, and anything of the like. Wrong, she had been.

“True…” Jason mumbles, lips puckered up when he hears another shutter of the cameras, now widening his eyes towards the group of teenagers.

“Hey!” Hyoyeon calls out loudly, ready to scold the teenagers when she rests her hand on top of the woman’s.

“Let them.” Must be the loss speaking, the tiredness of her brain after so much turmoil. Dongyoung is probably somewhere in his mansion, watching the pictures that are released of her, or reading over his next script and his prepared answers for interviews. Once Hyoyeon is seated again, not forgetting to send a glare to the other people by the restaurant, she speaks. “I may move to Argentina at this point. Just run away, become some newspaper girl there, not stay here and wait for one of his fans to kill me.”

“Don’t say that,” Jason, the voice of reasoning, the person that had been there with her when everything happened, speaks softly. The delusion she feels tears at her, hopelessness shown in her unkempt hair—she hasn’t washed it, hasn’t brushed it, much less has she put on a drop of makeup. She doesn’t feel like it, all she feels like doing is standing up and stomp over all the judgements, running far, far away from the articles made by her own people. “Just…try for other magazines. Your talent is phenomenal, you understand movies like no other, and have studied cinematography for long enough. I’m sure a lot of people would want you with them.”

Reminiscent of the reason why she wanted to become a journalist, she wonders if that’s the case. A young girl, she had been, watching fairytales on television and enjoying the craft of the characters, their quirks and perks, the lines that made them memorable forever engraved in her brain. Movies moved her to different parts of the world, brought back feelings that she had never known, and that’s the magic of a good performer. Actors bend or make the movie. “…Maybe—”

“Besides, you don’t have enough money to go to Argentina.”

“Jason!” Hyoyeon scowls, getting a faint, shameful grin from her boyfriend.

“It’s the truth—”

Watching the noodles in her plate, she thinks she needs to fight for this. For the meals she needs to eat, for the apartment she wants to keep, for the lifestyle that she has given herself through her hard work, the name that she has made only to have it torn apart. There is a reason to exist, there will always be, and if her existence annoyed someone once, it’s not her problem. “You know what? Argentina can wait.”

###

The light swirls in the thin air. Bright, matching the stars in the posters around the office. People are going from one edge of the room to other, shoes that are far too expensive for however much these journalists get paid, holding big stacks of paper on their hands of articles that may never be released, at least not as honestly as they should. Journalists are, sometimes, fiction authors. They need to make a reality so fantastic that books such as the Iliad would be ashamed of their mythology history. To gain interest, there needs to be a narrative, but nothing about this place or the many others she has gone to has caught her attention.

White are the walls of the seventeenth place she has gone to in the past two weeks, all of which have served her to miss her past job equally as much. The posters are of different artists; from Elvis Presley to local bands that she has no idea about, to some actors that she can’t even look at without feeling pressured. Her hands, clampy at this point, hold onto her resume for dear life, seated on the uncomfortable metal seats in front of the boss’ office. Too occupied, the boss seems to be, chattering and laughing loudly and casting the sound towards the outside, whatever celebrity that is there with her making it much too obvious that they are sharing a pop-able bottle of champagne, enough to make the interview that much more…interesting.

That, or whoever this is just wants good traction, and to be on the journalist’s side always.

The coffee machine by her side works, but no matter how many times she presses the button that reads ‘latte’, she gets the same Americano as always. The bitter taste has already woken her up, but not in the best of mindsets, looking down at her resume and her goals, all of which had been absolutely destroyed. No one looked at her as just a fellow journalist anymore, she was ‘Doyoung’s enemy’, the one interviewer that hated him so much that she had compared him to his brother, and had asked about a companion when he had gotten out of a longtime relationship.

Come to think of it, she sounds like the devil with a microphone in hand, and this all happens when asking the questions that everyone else asks. What works for everyone, maybe, just doesn’t work for her.

And she can’t even get a free latte, as it seems, because this fucking coffee machine only knows what an Americano is—

“Oh, Dongyoung, you really have a way with words.” The laughter of the boss in question has her looking up. Slowly, almost as if she’s in a thriller movie and needs the monster to disappear before she fully looks at it. Her life is not a movie, quite clearly, so she ends up making direct eye-contact with the man that had stomped on her life, danced a flamenco song, and left it in shambles. Dongyoung, with his hair still parted perfectly, now looks more casual. Gray hoodie on top of a black t-shirt, ripped jeans that show those legs that she had checked out on the red carpet, but the mere sight of him has her standing up.

The owner of the magazine in question may have noticed the struggle of both people in the same room. Dongyoung, whose face gets filled with recognition, his smile changing to a frown as rapidly as it changes to a look of pity. And she, of course, is the one that can’t hide the absolute fear she feels at that moment. Fear and hatred, mind her, because all she needed was a statement from him to fix her reputation. “I—” She starts, not finding the words in her to say anything else, because the owner of the magazine now seems to be drenched in shame. If anything, she may start apologizing to Doyoung for the mere presence of the journalist. “Here’s my resume, but I know you won’t call me.”

Her rushed steps are only heightened when she hears someone following her, looking over her shoulder by the time her name is called. Dongyoung’s hand is lifted in the air, as if to catch her attention, but the troubled stance inside of herself settles a fire alarm in her brain, making her rush down the set of stairs instead of taking the elevator. The ceramic glides against her sneakers easily, running and running down the endless number of stairs while Dongyoung speaks.

“Hey, wait up! I need to talk to you!”

“Don’t you dare get close to me!” And it’s even more of a surprise when Dongyoung’s long legs are able to skip two or three stairs per step, leaving her at disadvantage no matter how fast she tries to move. “What do you want? Do you need to ridicule me more? Isn’t it enough that half the country hates me because of you?” This exact mindset is what has her stopping, because this man, this man in front of her, breathing rapidly after rushing behind her, is the one that had made her life lose meaning, lose the North that had characterized her for so many years, the only passion that she ever had lost in time and essence because of his mere existence.

“I’m so sorry you’ve been getting hate.” But he doesn’t know that there’s nothing she hates more than that pitiful look on his face, eyes glistening, eyebrows turned downwards, lips pressed in a sly pout, absentminded at that. “I didn’t mean for it to get viral, but you should’ve denied the interview if you didn’t know who I was. You literally made a fool of me on air and—”

“Of you?!” Now, without a job, she can treat a celebrity exactly like who they are. Human beings, just like her, just like the one man in front of her who feels remorse because his image was slightly tainted. “You only care about your image? Every show on TV has been making fun of my mistakes. Fans take pictures of me and ask me why I even did that to you…” Her voice lowers, headache thumping on her temples the more she looks at him. “And you dare to tell me I made a fool of you on TV? No one will hate you, you’re the victim here, I’m left as some villain—”

“I want to mend it, just let me speak!” Dongyoung tells her, moving to stand in front of the stairs when she tries to walk away from him once again. Now closer, she gets to see the droplets of sweat on his collarbones, the rosiness of his lips when he talks softly. “I’ve been in scandals, with my ex, at least. The public will always see what the celebrity wants them to see, I just need you to play along with me and in some months, you’ll have your job back.”

“You don’t mean it—”

“I mean it. I’ll get you back in your magazine if you just stop insulting me and let me tell you my plan. Well, the one I came up with just a few minutes ago when I saw you in front of that office.” Dongyoung rushes to get his words out, eyelashes softly fluttering on top of his cheekbones, catching her full attention when she gives a step back and crosses her arms over her t-shirt cladded body.

“What do you have in mind?” Though, the resentment in her tone has not subsided in any way, glaring at him as if all the pain her mind has gone through for the past few weeks could be thrown his way in the form of baggage.

“My personal assistant left the job after my scandal with my ex, so…I need a personal assistant.”

“I’m a journalist, Dongyoung. I may not have looked like a good one in your eyes, but I’ve done some pretty good articles—”

“Let me speak.”

“You just say nonsense.”

“Well, fuck, look who is talking. You confused me with my brother.” Her lips get sealed by those words, looking over to the side simply not to smack his face away from her trip down the stairs. “Normally, personal assistants tend to appear in pictures taken by the paparazzi, or in ‘behind-the-scenes’ videos, or even in the background of interviews, but no one pays attention to them. They are the closest to celebrities, almost like a confidante, and still people don’t care…” His voice trails, certainty shown in his expressive features, lips quirking up in a small smile when he says: “If people saw you in pictures with me, in videos, in whatever it is that you can get on, as my personal assistant, they’d think we just ended up becoming friends even after the interview. If I forgive you, the world forgives you.”

Tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear, suddenly interested in his words, the rational part of her decides to intervene. “Why can’t you just make a statement saying you forgive me and I’ll be off to my old job sooner?”

“Because people won’t see a growth. If they see us acting closer, like we’re friends and you’ve grown to know me, they’ll think that we truly changed from the first time we met. Besides, not to sound like a stuck-up asshole, but…my friends get good opportunities in this business.”

A scoff leaves her lips, shaking her head at him. “How long would I be your personal assistant for?”

“…Until people eat up that we’re friends, I guess.”

Her eyes are starting to hurt from the migraine that creeps up on her, rubbing them furiously to the point she sees stars behind her vision. Or maybe, it’s the radiant smile he gives her, gummy as always, pleading her in that awkward and expressive way of his to just let him mend things. “Well…it’s either this or starving in Argentina. Deal.” With an extended hand, she grips his. The skin is soft, clear as day that he hasn’t worked a day in his life, and the coldness of his rings caresses the crevices on her dermis. Her other hand looks for her phone, however, eager to start a job that actually pays rent. “Give me your number and I’ll get on working.”

Dongyoung takes the phone in between his hands, speaking while he looks down. “A—Argentina? You were going to Argentina?”

“It’s sarcasm.” She replies, making him look up before nodding once.

“Ah…I see…”

And he expects someone to believe that they’ve become friends and gotten over the initial shock of the interview?

He better put that supposed acting skill to good use, then.

###

“Oh, my Goodness, you’re the new personal assistant, right?!”

Upon entering the set, the least she would have expected is to hear the overexcited tone of a male. Her eyes that had been inspecting the place, from the high ceilings, the tremendously bright lights, to the flooring with the decorations in wooden and darkened tones for what seems to be a police department, are suddenly settling on paying attention to the person before her. A little bit over thirty, rounded cheeks with freckles falling along them, his height serves to make him look taller, that buff body of his different from his sweet-looking face.

Oh, but she knows him, and a nod from her is enough for the cables in her brain to connect in images of revindication. The manager that had called out for Dongyoung in that red carpet, that’s who this man is, though his clothing was a lot posher at the time she saw him, his hair far more styled than the straight cut that it is right now. “Sweet.” He adds, perhaps unfamiliar with the amount of hate she has gotten, or far more interested, to the point of being blinded by the news, by the fact that there is someone new on the team. “I couldn’t wait for the day I’d stop being his manager and his personal assistant. I’m glad it happened sooner than later.” He speaks in a rushed manner, moving somewhere and leaving her stranded, not until he turns on his heels and points for her to follow him. “You’re coming, you know?”

Still, far too interested in the sights around her, she follows after him. Dongyoung had not texted her until a week later, after informing his team and sending a contract her way, one that had been read by one of her lawyer friends and approved thanks to her lack of employment. Nonetheless, his comment was brief once he did talk to her—to meet him on Monday, at nine in the morning, in the set for his newest series. A crime TV show, at that, something so unlike him and yet, extremely fitting for his thriller and mysterious ways in acting.

“I’m Moon Sujin. Dongyoung’s manager, by the way. Well aware of who you are, too.” The lively man says with a big smile on his face, as if it could never disappear from his features. Good for him, she thinks. “His idea was…interesting, once he told me, but I read over your resume and I think you’d be intelligent enough to be his personal assistant.”

He says it as if this is supposed to be more difficult than majoring on something, than following a career on journalism, than writing article over article based on facts. A smile graces her features when they enter the small cafeteria by the set. New electronics, to be expected, are there, glistening in gray colors and almost too pristine looking until Sujin opens the door of the refrigerator, getting out what seems to be some breakfast. “I think I can manage. Being some celebrity’s personal assistant shouldn’t be so difficult.”

“Dongyoung is nice, don’t get me wrong. But he’s picky.” Sujin says, fingers working on placing the meals on the containers in a plate before settling them inside the microwave. The minutes read two, to be exact. “Loves his sleep more than one would think. Oh, he doesn’t like messing up his free time, so he likes to have everything scheduled out. You got here a little early, that’s good, because he likes his breakfast to be at nine before his real schedule starts at nine fifteen.”

Of course. Of course, Kim Dongyoung just had to be picky and selective over anything else. At this point, a little voice, faint in the distance of her brain, is telling her that he probably picked her as his personal assistant just to make her life even harder to deal with. “…What if I don’t do stuff how he wants me to?”

“He’d probably get a bit pissed. Though, it’s not that scary, to be honest.” Sujin’s happy tone is starting to get to her nerves, much more when he gets the food out soon after. “So, typical breakfast for Dongyoung.”

“Alright, shoot. Is it crème brulé or something?”

Sujin pushes the plate towards her hands, the heat of it connecting to her skin and making her hiss. A bag is placed over her shoulders, her arm lifting up just so he can slot it around her body. “His breakfast has to be full, because sometimes he eats lunch late, depends on how the recording or the schedule goes. He likes to have sandwiches, but since he doesn’t like the cheese to be cold, I heat them up. I’ll make sure to send you the recipe of the type of sandwiches he likes, it’s his mom’s recipe.” The image of Dongyoung being picky about sandwiches brings a groan from the depths of her soul, looking to the side to see the black bag now resting against her waist. “Those are the cold things he likes to eat. He doesn’t like green vegetables on their own, so I make them into a smoothie. I’ll also send you the recipe. Uh…he likes his fruits sliced, make sure they don’t get too brown, and it should be fine.”

“Wha—? Why?” She asks, lifting her eyebrows in complete trigger at the fact that this is the angel that the country adored, that had made her seem like the worst person alive. “…Can’t he just eat normal sandwiches? Why do they have to be his mom’s recipe?”

Knowing more than she ever could, clear from his features when he sighs candidly, he leans his weight against the refrigerator. “He’s homesick.”

He’s not the only one. What would he feel if he was in her position, ignoring every call from her family members after the incident with the interview? She’s too ashamed to tell them that she’s struggling with money, to start with. “Yeah, so?”

“So, he likes to feel like he’s home through his food.”

“I can see that much. Anything else that he may need? Do I have to do a dance when I deliver his food?” That sarcasm, typical of her now that she is out of the journalism world, has Sujin chuckling.

At least, he does get sarcasm. Unlike some actor—

“He’ll tell you what he wants. He’s a man of routine, so you’ll see the pattern with each day that you spend with him.” Sujin answers, slipping away from the refrigerator before moving towards the door, opening it wide for her. “The cheese’s getting cold. Go to the end of this hallway, turn right and read over the names of the dressing rooms. The one has a paper that says ‘Kim Dongyoung’ is where you’ll find him.”

Difficult. Oh, it is extremely difficult just to stand there and watch Sujin say all these things with so much certainty, a daily routine to be exact. There is a reason as to why that personal assistant left, after all. Closing her eyes, she steps away from the cafeteria and looks at the hallway ahead. Empty, the faint chatter from outside is everything that can be heard after Sujin’s footsteps are too far away for her to hear. The gray walls and white lights lead the way the more she follows after Sujin’s instructions, name after name on the door suddenly coming to the halting conclusion of Kim Dongyoung. A nightmare, this is what this needs to be and if she pinches herself another time and doesn’t wake up, she might actually lose it—

The first problem of the day surfaces when she realizes she can’t actually open the door, both hands resting under the plate, and if she puts it down, he may actually not eat it, saying it’s germ-filled or something. Once again, patience overtakes her, thinking of this as a job that will help her pay rent, get her journalist reputation back and then, forget about the existence of actor Kim Dongyoung. With this mindset, one of her hands lets go of the plate to balance it on only one, opening the door with one swift twist of the gold doorknob, not having enough time to gush at the decorations of Dongyoung’s clearly expensive dressing room.

“Morning, Dongyoung. I brought you your food and met your manager—” Once she opens the door fully and looks away from the plate on her hands, she feels her throat going dry and her plate almost slipping from her fingertips. There he is, the heartthrob of the mystery genre, leaning over his vanity and reaching for a graphic t-shirt, fingers dumbly wrapped around it when he stares at her with a surprised expression on his features. It is at this exact moment that she forgets the normal mannerism of knocking before entering any place.

Dongyoung’s torso is highlighted by the golden lights of the vanity, a thin silver chain glistening under the light. His broad shoulders look soft in texture, trailing down to his subtly toned abdomen and the pair of leather pants that hug his long legs. There is a leather jacket on top of the vanity, maybe it is meant to match with that, but the more she looks at his features—the elegant, soft makeup that covered his handsome face in more glow, the less she wants to stay there for a second longer.

“Oh shit, sorry, my bad!” She exclaims far too quickly, hand coming in contact with the doorknob once again and twisting it just in time to close the door behind her, back leaning against the material before slowly dragging herself down on it, just a little bit, not enough to rest her weight against the floor.

The reality is, there is a reason as to why women—and men—go crazy for Kim Dongyoung and if his shirtless body is anything to go by, she may understand it, but she doesn’t want to be one of those people. The least she wanted was to work for him, and there she is, standing outside and waiting for Earth to eat her alive along with the imminent awkwardness that just has to linger in between the two. She is a journalist, she knows how to speak to people without stuttering, but what is it about Dongyoung and herself that makes her act, sound and talk so irrationally and stupidly?

Not only did she compare him to his brother—or confuse him, really—, not recognize him, asked him—unknowingly—about his ex…but now she had also invaded his privacy and seen him shirtless.

Getting dressed, rather.

The door opens with softness, almost as if he expects her to give up on the job right then and there, and she may have had it not been for that pitiful look on his features thrown her way. His face softens at the sight of her, sighing deeply when he opens the door wider, enough for her to catch a glimpse of the dressing room. Big mirrors, a few seats, a TV and a leather couch. Some hats for his character, probably a police officer according to the rumors Hyoyeon had gotten from the magazine she worked for.

Her eyes automatically trail down to his chest, seeing it cladded on that shirt he was trying to put on in the first place, and the leather jacket does match the pants. “Knock next time, will you? And don’t look at me as if you’ve seen a ghost.” Dongyoung comments, tilting his head to the side before pointing to the dressing room. “Did Sujin send my food with you?”

The door closes the moment she steps inside, all thanks to Dongyoung who moves towards the vanity after taking the plate from her hands. Her fingers hook around the strap of her bag, settling it down on the vanity beside his food to get his green smoothie out, as well as his container filled with fruits; apples, pears, watermelon and some strawberries, as it seems. “He did. I only had gotten here when he was already so happy about me being your assistant.”

“He’s my manager, but he can’t stand some ordering around.” Dongyoung’s answer is cut short when he stabs the lid of his smoothie with his straw, putting it up to his lips before giving it a sip. His face clearly shows that he really doesn’t like green vegetables, scrunching up at his nose and parting his lips in a silent gag.

With the silence settling around them, she decides to speak up on the only thing that has been going through her head for the past few minutes. “I’m sorry for not knocking and for walking in on you changing.” Though, she looks anywhere else but his eyes when she admits so.

“No worries.” Dongyoung swats the matter away softly before taking a bite of his sandwich. Awkward, once again, Dongyoung has to clear his throat to catch her attention and have her looking at him. “I need you to do some things for me today, though.”

“What would that be?” She asks, already looking for her phone to write down what she has to do, only to hear Dongyoung chuckling. “What?”

“Do you type fast?”

“Of course, I’m a journalist. Why?”

“Because I ask for a lot of things.” Dongyoung confesses, thinking of it as the best of comedies when he laughs at her, head thrown back and eyes closed tightly before breathing out softly.

“You’re such a celebrity.”

“And you’re such a whiner.” Dongyoung retorts back, looking at her from the corner of his eye before muffling his own voice with his sandwich. “First, I would like for you to go pick up my dog from the hairdresser in a bit. Also, I already ordered lunch ahead and you have to pick it up, as well. There’s a car for my personal assistant, by the way, I’ll give you the keys in a second.” Oh, and the job comes with more and more perks…everything sounds absolutely delightful, so much so than the more she types, the more she feels like writing at the end: Kim Dongyoung is a privileged asshole with a nice face and damn me, a nice body. “Uh…you forgot my scripts, by the way, but it’s okay, I snatched them away from Sujin before I came here.”

“Y—Your scripts?” She asks, quirking one of her eyebrows up to see Dongyoung getting something out of the drawers of the vanity before settling it down on it with a loud thump. “Jesus Christ—”

A folder, as thick as a textbook, is now seated on top of the white ceramic. “This is my folder of scripts. I’m working on a historical film later this year, so I’ve been reading that. There’s this show, so I have all the scripts for the next fifteen episodes here. I also have some variety shows to attend to and they, also, have scripts. Without counting some comedy film I’ve already done, but Sujin has forgotten to get that out of this folder.” Dongyoung comments, the amount of projects under his belt enough to make her head wonder how in the world he is able to remember so many characters, all those words— “Most actors don’t ask for this, but I’m afraid I’ll forget my lines so I ask my personal assistant to bring it along everywhere. It may be a heavy folder, but it has my entire life in it.”

That, she can understand. Though, she’s more of a technological woman if anything, but for how hard she studied the questions for her latest interview, only to be ruined by him, she could understand his fear of forgetting one of his lines. “I’ll carry it.” She answers, already reaching for it and resting the plastic against her chest. “So, dog, lunch, scripts. What else?”

“Cancel the dinner I was supposed to have with my acting committee today. I’m not feeling it and I’m also busy with shooting, so send an email.” Jotting that down on her phone, now with the weight of that folder on her arms, she is surprised when she watches Dongyoung stand up from his seat, standing in front of her with a smile. “And I’ll give you until two to be back here. That should be enough.”

“Dongyoung, do you know I am technically not a personal assistant and that I’m doing this to get my career back?”

He gives her an ashamed smile, his teeth shown in it when he whispers a small: “I’m sorry. I’ll give you until five past two?” The thought alone has her wanting to rub her temples, but with the weight of a two-year-old in the shape of a folder now on her arms, she doesn’t think she can even muster to do such thing. “Listen, I know I sound like an asshole, but all these things are important things. We’ll have fun along the way.”

His face says it all. Dongyoung, outside of acting, can’t hide his expressions on what he feels. Remorse, as if he’s a child that broke a vase and now wants to glue it back together. She may give him the benefit of the doubt but only because— “I’m sure your dog will make me feel better once I got pick them up.”

“…And I ordered lunch for both of us, so it shouldn’t be that bad being my personal assistant.” Dongyoung says, looking down at his phone before rushing towards the door. “I have to go. Recording should have started by now.” She is about to comment on his food, for he’s only taking his green smoothie with him, but once she turns to look at his plate, it’s empty. The sandwich is long gone, along with the fruits.

Maybe, she should pay more attention to the job instead of arguing with him.

“Good luck?” She asks, though it’s meant to be an affirmation. While walking alongside him on the hallway, Dongyoung lets out a chuckle, taking a sip of that disgusting smoothie.

“Thank you. You, too.”

###

With her back directly pressed to the backrest of the couch, her legs part non-elegantly, head leaned back, a rough sigh leaving her nostrils. Granted, Dongyoung’s household is as equally as comfortable as the first time she was there, nine days ago to be exact, and while it’s nine at night—the usual time in which Dongyoung is back home, has eaten, and can finally spare her the benefit of going back home—the chattering around the mansion’s living room is enough to make her feel tired, as well as interested.

From the ceiling to the floor, the big windows in Dongyoung’s household show the stars, casting down on the extremely clean piano in front of it. The living room, however, departs from that elegant spot into something more leaned back. The interior designer definitely made a study of Dongyoung’s personality—gray and whites, a few blacks, so elegant that it almost hurts the eyes, but has the essence of a young guy, spacious enough for him to bring anyone he wants, for party-goers to get far too close in this place because they want to, not because they need to, and while she often gawks at the new spots she gets to discover of Dongyoung’s glass home, crafted at the excellence of him, his friends don’t seem to mind.

If she really studies them from up close, there is no reason why they would care. Johnny’s wrist is perfectly wrapped by a Rolex, holding a flute glass up to his lips to take a sip of his drink, sharing that enormous couch with her and another man and not being even remotely close to each other. The other man in question, Jungwoo, sports that new unreleased Gucci collection that Hyoyeon had not stopped talking about all over his body. Wealth, both of them just exude privilege.

Though, both of them have clicking links in her mind, more than Dongyoung ever did before their dramatic interview. Johnny can be seen with one-liners in movies, matched with upbeat tunes that are meant to accelerate the heart, more often than not cladded in clothing that shows his hard work on the gym, the stunts he does enough to gain him some recognition. An actor, just like Dongyoung, just for more of a different genre—action. The way he holds himself shows his pride in his craft, though that does not make him unapproachable, a smirk had plastered on his face the moment he met her not too long ago.

Jungwoo, she is more of a fan of. Not necessarily as much of a fan of him as her ex-editor, Sungmin, was, but she has watched all his movies. The rom-com actor, the one that has anyone muffling their screams into their pillows, wishing that they had someone that loved them. The sincerity in his tone has the watcher falling in the traps of his plush lips, delving into the intense romances that he is put in, and his eyes are the trappers of his movies, matching him into any possible desirable character. Looking at him is even more difficult when she is reminiscent of her past relationship, for she had watched too many of his movies in hopes of seeking that warmth that seemed to lack back in the day.

Her name is called into the thin air, dreaming cut to a short and bursting her out of her bubble when she realizes that there may have been a possibility that she was halfway into passing out on Dongyoung’s couch until Johnny called her. Opening her eyes groggily, she looks at the man with a movement of her head before he smiles. “I’m your biggest fan, you know?”

“Fan?!” Dongyoung and her ask in unison, turning to look at each other just in time to catch their states. Dongyoung is sprawled on the couch across from them, drinking from his own flute glass while he speaks to his friends. His legs are parted, one of top of the headrest, the other caressing the ground, one hand placed on top of his abdomen, body cladded on a casual outfit. “Sorry.” He utters, looking at her for a brief second before she returns her gaze to Johnny.

“You have to be joking.” She says with a half-smile, only to have Jungwoo shaking his head from the other end of the couch.

“He’s not. We had the best laugh with your interview.” Jungwoo says excitedly in that soft tone of his, her smile dropping and making her cheeks deflate almost immediately. Sometimes, she even forgets about the interview that happened a little bit over a month ago. Perhaps, it’s the self-protection system inside her brain that is trying to make her feel better, or it simply is starting to become irrelevant to her. A mistake, one of too many.

Though, this hurts her, leaving her with a short mumble that says: “I see…”

“Guys, don’t say that.” Dongyoung points out, a lift on his tone when he sits up on his couch. “She was taking it seriously. It’s mean of you to tell her that it was funny—”

“Because of your face, asshole.” Johnny interrupts him, searching for something on his phone as he smiles to himself. “You just made it difficult for her, but thanks to that moment we got the best pictures from Dongyoung. We have been using it in the group-chat endlessly.” The screen of his phone is turned towards her, cropped images of the funniest facial expressions from Dongyoung made for everyone to see.

“We admire you. You really made Dongyoung uncomfortable.” Jungwoo says, that little glint of mischief in his eyes unexpected from him. Once he takes the last sip of his glass, cheeks tinted thanks to his tipsiness, he rests his hands on his knees. “Ever since his girlfriend broke up with him, we haven’t been able to have a good laugh with him. The moment that interview happened; we saw some expression on Dongyoung’s face that looked…alive, for the first time in a while, at least.”

But, what a way to be alive. The moment she saw him on the red carpet, she would have thought of Dongyoung to be the happiest man in the world, and for her to step over it thanks to ignorance had made her feel a bit guilty. She had ruined his night, just like how he had ruined hers. “Damn, thanks, I guess?” She scratches the back of her head, looking towards Dongyoung who seems to be ready to argue.

“I was not acting as if I was dead. I was just going through a scandal—”

“A fake scandal, at that.” Johnny answers, making her turn to him. The image of Hyoyeon talking about Dongyoung’s scandal appears inside her brain. Dongyoung had supposedly cheated, putting him as the bad man of the relationship, though there was little to no information about it. Would asking be wrong…?

Dongyoung leans back on his couch, the leather rustling when he rolls his eyes. “It doesn’t matter anymore. Tabloids blew it out of proportion.”

“Did they?” She asks, too softly that she thinks she was the only one who heard it, but Dongyoung opens his eyes just in time to look at her.

“You may think they didn’t because I’m a celebrity and you’re a journalist, but most of your people really just want a story out there, so they create anything—”

“I know, but I’m not like that.” She says, trying to clear her name because, most likely, those men in the room only knew her as that one woman that had gone viral for embarrassing Kim Dongyoung. Or disrespecting him, rather. Her love for journalism goes past gossip. “Gossip exists for a reason, and most of the time my people—like you said—write articles and our bosses tell us to make it more interesting. I was actually against that. I’m a cinematography-based interviewer and journalist. I am more worried about your talent than I could ever be about who you were with.”

Dongyoung frowns at that, seemingly interested in what she is saying, as if a weight was lifted off his shoulders. “Then…why did you ask who was my companion in the red carpet? Weren’t you trying to get me to talk about my break-up?”

“No. Dongyoung, I was not trying to compare you to your brother or get you to talk about your ex. I just didn’t know who you were. Entirely. Nothing. Zero. I had to ask the common stuff.” She replies, biting the inside of her cheek before she hears Johnny whistling from beside her.

“You want to know the details about Dongyoung’s break up, though?”

Dongyoung’s face stops showing a small smile, thrown her way to be exact, when he hears those words. Taking the few droplets of alcohol inside his flute glass, he throws it Johnny’s way and it clings to his face, thankfully not landing inside his eyes. “Do not dare paint me in a bad light in front of my personal assistant.”

“…And our hero.” Jungwoo corrects, bringing a smile up her features before she stands up.

“Actually, to spare Dongyoung the headache if you drunkenly confess something to me, I’m just going to go home.” She pulls the fabric of her t-shirt down, moving away from the couch and going over to where Dongyoung is seated. Her hand reaches forward to pat his head, a way of showing him to be weary of how much he drinks. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Be careful, okay?”

“I will. Good night.”

“Good night.” She tells him, moving towards the set of stairs that lead to the excellently protected door with, like, a hundred codes, but not before throwing a wave of her hand over her shoulder. “It was a pleasure to meet you, guys!”

“Same!” She hears Johnny say, but her mind is too occupied in connecting the dots of the story that is Dongyoung and his ex. It’s none of her business, it shouldn’t be, to pry on personal information has never been like herself. Gossip is not part of her, actually, but that curiousness that overtakes her only comes because of Dongyoung. He seems serious, in most occasions, easy to tease and to anger, but overall…he’s inoffensive. Nothing about him screams cheater, though faces can be seen but souls can never be discovered. That thought lingers inside her head, for his friends find it funny and Dongyoung seems ashamed of it.

…Do they think it’s fun that he cheated?

Or did he really cheat?

Johnny did say it was fake—

The crisp air of the night touches her skin, moving towards the car in a hassle, wanting to get out of there as soon as possible. Celebrities are the same—they are heartless beings, looking for more and more to take, and he shouldn’t be any different. If anything, he’s the most celebrity-esque person to ever exist. In some way or another, she’ll get a confirmation that the angel-faced actor is nothing more than a cheater.

###

“Hello, class.” The person in front of her, an instructor at that, extends their hands freely, landing all fingers together in a curve as a way of relaxation. A deep breath in that she is supposed to mimic—if Dongyoung doing the same action by her side is anything to go by—is given by the yoga instructor, spreading her fingertips once again. “Today, we’re doing friendship yoga. This will strengthen professional bonds along with friendships.”

The trails of sleepiness cling to her eyelids, shown in her body with how relaxed it was before the yoga instructor spoke up about whatever ‘friendship yoga’ is supposed to mean. For such an early morning in Dongyoung’s free day, the least she would expect him to do is yoga. His sleep is almost a sacred thing for him, if not the only thing that he will ever love more than anyone, so for him to wake up early when there are no recordings and to invite her to join him along the way seems suspicious. Enough for her to stop rubbing at her eyes, staring at Dongyoung inside his own personal gym with fire beneath her eyes, burning with the rampant hatred she feels for him right at that moment.

“What?” She utters in a whisper, nearing him, now realizing the exact reason why he had asked her to come in comfortable clothing. Wearing an oversized shirt and sweatpants, Dongyoung seems to get ready, but her most comfortable outfit is, surprisingly but also not at all, a pair of leggings and a t-shirt. “…You never told me we were doing yoga. We—You have friends to do this with!”

“We’re always arguing, so I thought doing something together would help us…stop arguing. Let everything go, you know?” While the excuse makes sense, much more when her sleepy state has her looking at Dongyoung for a second longer, collarbones peaking from his white t-shirt and making her stare down momentarily, reminiscent of the time she saw him without that white fabric on top of him, it still doesn’t settle well with her. The yoga instructor in front of her, however, sporting a relaxed smile on her features, seems to find the situation funny, if the smile is anything to go by. “Do it for me, please?”

“…I get a little bit more of money at the end of this month.”

“Wow, is spending time with me really that tedious? Enough for you to ask for more payment in your salary?”

“Dongyoung, I don’t need friendship yoga. We just need to—”

Her voice is cut to a halt when she feels someone’s hands resting on top of her shoulders, kneading the muscles there only to feel the tightness hurting to the most profound particles of her being. Her eyes widen in surprise, hearing the soft hum of the instructor, Duri, who starts to talk after rubbing at her trapezius. “You need to let go of this pent-up tension you have with you. It’s only dragging feelings of negativity towards your soul. You have the same issue as Dongyoung, too explosive…” The slow tone of her voice has her sighing, pulling away from her with a tug before standing in front of Dongyoung.

“I don’t have any problem, because I’m doing this and then, I’m getting out of here.” Duri seems to be pleased by her answer, moving towards her laptop to hit the space bar, the Bluetooth speakers bathing the sun-lit gym in a soft, relaxing tune, mixed with the sounds of rain. Faux, at that, the day is as shiny as ever.

“I need you two to trust each other…place your hands together, mimic the motions of the other…”

Dongyoung splays his hands in front of her, extending her own fingertips to match the circular motions he is doing in the air, the warmth of his skin seeping into hers when she starts talking: “Where did you even find her? I didn’t know you practiced yoga.”

“Jungwoo does, he recommended her to me once and I never called her again.” He whispers back, only to have her snorting out a laugh.

“And you’re getting me into this?”

“He said it would strengthen—”

“No talking, we’re relaxing…” Duri sighs the words out, making her straighten her back before the instructor’s fingers point towards the electric blue yoga mat on the flooring. “I need you to kneel there, in front of each other.”

By his sweet face, there is a look of annoyance, kneeling down at the same time that she does and looking her way. The sunrays lay on top of his tired expression, probably not getting enough hours of sleep just to strengthen whatever friendship they don’t have. If getting him to drink his greens, picking up his dog and spending time with him at almost every hour of the day is friendship…then, she has a new concept of it.

“Closer.” Duri instructs, almost gasping when Dongyoung moves closer to her, his face looking ahead at her when his chest presses to hers. The expanse of his body clouds her, vision becoming blurry when inspecting his face to the point she has to look to the side. “Now, grab each other’s arms around the elbow area and lean back slowly. This will show that you trust each other…and it will also release any remorse inside of you.” The dramatic punctuation of the word release has her pressing her lips together, reaching for Dongyoung’s skinny arms and gripping them in between her fingertips, leaning back by the time she feels the muscles of his abdomen pressing against hers.

His chuckle is drowned by the music, much more when he says—and sarcasm has finally made a way to his voice—. “This is so relaxing, Duri.”

“Release that hate. Come on.” Duri, taking it far too seriously because it’s her job, would probably lose her cool if she saw the expression on her face, but a minute or so pass by before she asks them to go back in position. “Now, sit down on the mat.”

Following after her instructions, she looks over her shoulder to talk to Duri. “…What do we do after?”

“Rest your feet against the other’s. Place your legs up high, without bending your knees.”

“I don’t think I can do that.” Dongyoung mutters, pressing her feet to hers before she lifts them up in a hassle, straightening her legs to the point Dongyoung’s feet slip away from their position against hers and she ends up resting hers against his calves. “Oh shit, wait, I can’t extend my legs that much—”

“Ooh, I’m more athletic than Kim Dongyoung? Who would have thought?”

“I don’t put my legs up in the air all the time!” Dongyoung complains, placing his legs down before pushing at her shoulder, almost making her lose her balance, but she retaliates soon enough, pushing at his shoulder as well.

With a frown on her features, though playful, she answers his comment: “And you mean to tell me I do?!”

“That’s—That’s not what I said!” The blush on his features is funny, making her push her lips together when Duri rests her hands against Dongyoung’s shoulders, leaning him back on his mat without saying much. Her annoyance levels must be higher than Dongyoung’s mansion itself.

“Please, try not to raise your voice, we’re in a moment of relaxation…” This is serious for Duri, enough to have the smile erasing from her features when Duri pulls away from Dongyoung, now laying down on the mat, to look at her. “We’ll do some carrying yoga positions. Dongyoung will be under you, his feet supporting your weight by your center,” Duri’s hands place themselves on top of her own abdomen, showing exactly where they should be located. One look to Dongyoung’s face shows the same mortified expression that must be on hers, the closeness in between the two unbearable when they are face to face. Eyes widened, lips parted, they can barely speak when Duri continues explaining. “And you’ll get to do several positions of your own. Extending your back, your legs. This will make you trust him. Jungwoo told me Dongyoung trusts you a lot with his life, so you need to trust him as well.”

The rumor that goes around Duri’s lips brings confusion to her. Dongyoung trusts her, that much should be knowledgeable but still, it surprises her. He trusts her enough to carry one of his oldest cars around when working, to listen to what his friends say and to be around him, even when she’s a journalist. He trusts her enough to let paparazzi take pictures of the two together, never thinking about it twice. These thoughts go through her brain when she stands in front of Doyoung’s extended legs, her fingers slotting in between his when his feet prop themselves on her abdomen.

“Do you trust me?” She asks, and soon after Dongyoung lifts her up in the air. From the position, the air is knocked out of her lungs, Dongyoung’s legs wobbling a bit before he gains his balance again. Her fingers tighten around his, looking at his expression while he bites down on his bottom lip to keep his strength.

“I do,” He huffs out, finally learning how to find his equilibrium, looking up at Duri to wait for more instructions, but when the woman starts speaking, something seems to bite at his curiousness. “Do you trust me?”

“…I don’t know.” She utters softly, the air in between them cut by Duri’s voice.

“You’ll trail your feet down her thighs and she’ll have to straighten her back. The only way to keep that position is if she wraps her calves around your legs and you two keep the equilibrium. Once you do, let go of her hands.”

Why can’t she trust Dongyoung? Is it because she feels like she knows so much about him that she doesn’t know him? She knows his daily routines; that he brushes his teeth far more than he should, that he simply can’t stand that green smoothie that Sujin keeps making, and that he calls his mother in the middle of the day to ask how she’s doing. He’s sharp, but he’s not prickly—he’ll never hurt anyone he loves, practically beaming the moment he talks to his family. She knows he is irregular with his exercising, that he rolls his eyes at whatever Johnny says but that he inherently listens. There is so much she acknowledges about him, but there are plenty of things in his story that are inconclusive, as if, in a way, he doesn’t trust her as much as he claims to say.

She straightens her back, but immediately loses her balance even when Dongyoung feet are propped on her thighs. “Do this properly, you got us in this position!” She tells him, a little bit enraged at the faux relaxing music, at herself, at Dongyoung for even thinking that this was going to unite them, but she gets a scowl from him.

“If I put my feet any further up your thighs, I’m going to end up tying your tubes.” The comment has her closing her eyes as if not to laugh, the seriousness of the situation cut short when she wraps her calves around his own legs, hands shaking while they hold onto his. “I’m sorry I got you into this. For making you lose your job, for having your as my personal assistant and for making you do questionable yoga.”

She leans forward, not sure if she wants to let go of his hands at this moment, because it feels warm and safe. Warmth, safety, two things that she would have never compared Dongyoung to, but now looking at him from above, she sees the peaceful on his gaze. Part of her knows that he never meant it, for all of this to happen, it took two to dance into this mess that they are now in. “I’d trust you more if—” A gasp leaves her lips when Dongyoung lets go of her hands, mixed with the squeal she lets out when she extends her arms to keep her balance. “If you just opened up to me more.”

“I feel like I know nothing about you, as well.” Dongyoung complains, her eyes trailing down to look at his extended hands, just in case she falls. Would he do the same if something went wrong now that they are a team? “M—Maybe it was a bad idea to try to get to know you more through yoga.”

She chuckles at that, for the first time feeling like she is not tied to Dongyoung simply because of her job. This thread of lines around her chest, all burning into her skin, hurting her in prickly grips, lets go with a liberating force. “It was not the conventional method, but I think it’s…fun.”

“I think so, too.” The sound of Duri pushing the space bar on her laptop is the only thing that is heard after she turns the music off. The tall woman places her hands on top of her hips, one leg jolted forward to show her distaste. “So, are you going to actually pay attention and have fun or should I just tell Jungwoo that his plans of having you two become friends are pointless?”

Jungwoo, the man that had called her his hero. Of course, this couldn’t have been only Dongyoung’s idea.

Speaking of the man himself, his legs give in finally, bolting her body forward until his legs are resting on each side of her body, parted, and her elbows dig into his chest uncomfortably, stealing a breath away from him. Dongyoung’s ears are closed in pain, rubbing at his thighs when he speaks to Duri. “Yeah, Duri, I’m sorry…but I don’t think neither of us are fitted for this.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll just pick my stuff up and go.” Duri’s relaxed tone says before taking her by the arm, dragging her up and away from Dongyoung in a matter of seconds. “If I were you, I wouldn’t trust him. There’s a saying about men with weak knees; they never support anybody.”

Dongyoung frowns at that, two lines forming on top of his nose when he sits up on the yoga mat. “Well, it’s not always I have to support my personal assistant on my feet, thank you very much.”

Absentmindedly, he had done something. In the depths of her soul, she feels as though Dongyoung is not much of an enigmatic, well-prepared, immaculately logical villain that waits for the right moment to stab her in the back. He is, just like he said that time by the stairs, simply trying to mend a mistake he made.

But now, at the beginning of their day together as personal assistant and actor, the uncertainty of it all falls on the fact that she doesn’t know if that makes her feel better or worse.

###

The security system beeps after she inserts the code, opening the door with her free hand, the other holding the container that includes Dongyoung’s food, ready for another day or recording. This time around for his movie, just a clarification that her phone brightened her mind with once she had woken up, alarm sounding like the shrilling touch of nails against a whiteboard. Once the door closes behind her, she basks in the mere silence of the dimly lit room—big windows, this mansion may have, but with Dongyoung using black curtains to keep his privacy to the highest amount, the place looks as if it was the doom when he is not awake, bathed in the glow of his security system only.

The more she walks into the place, up the stairs carefully and into the living room, her fingers trail over the curtains and pull them slightly, the welcomed sight of the Sun bringing warmth to her body. This routine of the past two months has been liberating in a way—different, like an intern in some magazine that works immensely different from the other ones, but refreshing in its outcome. Walking up another set of stairs, the playroom is the first thing she sees—too many videogames that she’d rather skip looking, she has already been threatened by her own thoughts to simply skip work and play there for a while. You know, just for fun.

Though, fun it is to work with Dongyoung. Watching a new sight of an actor such as himself, too well-prepared and obsessed with following the script, is something any journalist would wish for. Sometimes, when they do get to his mansion to share dinner—just like they do with lunch—, she swears she sees him opening up more. Not about his past, itself, but about his beliefs. What he finds right, wrong, annoying, interesting. What movie he likes, her opinion on it taken into consideration, and the films will even be played in the background if they have time.

Opening the door to Dongyoung’s room, not knocking after he told her that he’s a, through and through, heavy sleeper long ago, the same darkness has her sighing. Her fingers touch around the place to find any kind of surface; whether it is his desk or his vanity. Much to her delight, his desk comes in contact with her hands, feeling his laptop and his phone on top of it. Once the bag is settled down softly, the curtains are pulled in a hassle, trying to make as much as noise possible to wake up Dongyoung.

Or annoy him, God only knows what she wants.

…But maybe, it’s to annoy him.

For someone whose color-scheme around his mansion is white, gray, more shades of white and some black, his bedroom seems to be livelier. Brown shades, some beiges, some darker, all around the decorations, from the cushions on his bed to the blanket thrown over his body, fluffy enough to make his slim body disappear on the king-sized bed. The wood of the desks looks rich, barely even rough under her fingertips, sturdy for the amount of pictures he has around it, as well as some of those expensive matters that he keeps lying around—some jewelry, a ring that he always likes wearing without meaning at all, and his laptop that could very well have android qualities and speak to her one of these days with how expensive it is.

“Morning, morning, Dongyoung. We have a movie shoot today, and Sujin said you have to be there early because paparazzi are already crowding the street and you’d get there late if you don’t wake up now.” She speaks, voice quick when she goes over the first bit of his day, the patter of his dog’s paws making her smile softly as she picks the white poodle toy dog from the floor, lifting her up until she is resting on her waist. “Dongyoung, I said good morning. Even your daughter is asking for you—”

When she pulls the covers away from his body, she doesn’t expect him to let out the noise he makes. A soft, guttural moan that falls in the back of his throat. Resting on his abdomen, arms sprawled on top of his pillows, Dongyoung’s cheek is squished against the material, barely opening one eye to look at her. The worst part is that she feels her heart pick up when he closes his eyes again, giving her a smile in the softest but slowest of matters when he realizes it is her.

Once his body twists, the sleeve of his tank top falls off, showcasing his shoulder for her to look at before clearing her throat. Dongyoung reaches forward, patting all over her body blindly, patting around her arm and knee. “Where’s the booze button? I need to shut you up for, like, five more minutes.”

“You don’t have five more minutes.” The hardest part is to not concentrate on Dongyoung. She excels at it in most occasions, rushing through everything just to not stay there for too long and hence, not being able to look at how absolutely breathtaking Dongyoung is even early in the morning, void of any trace of makeup, hair done a mess.

He sighs, rubbing at his eyes and extending his limbs with a soft gush of breath escaping his lips. “Can’t you just be pretty and not tell me anything once?”

“That’s not my job.” She tells him, putting his dog down before moving towards where he is. Kneeling beside the bed, she runs her fingertips through Dongyoung’s hair until he is smiling once again, utterly pleased by her ministrations. That is until she tugs at the strands, bringing that beautiful frown out of him. “My job is to get you out of your bed so you can have millions of women around the country dying for you, so…wake up.”

When she stands up, Dongyoung gives one final turn on his bed, finally sitting up just in time for her to look at the way he runs his fingers through his achy scalp, yawning softly and extending his arms over his head. He may not be regular on the gym, but his physique has always been quite artistic to her. As if, in a way, he’d never realize just how some sculptures could envy the beauty that he holds. “Joke’s on you.” Dongyoung says, ignored by her when she moves towards the door and opens it quickly, Dongyoung’s dog—Mio—following after her.

“Why?”

“You’re still pretty even when you’re talking shit endlessly.” The comment falls on deaf ears. An actor like him, who probably saw women of the highest of calibers every day, could never consider the interviewer obsessed with t-shirts and leggings as a pretty woman. A normal man? Probably, the type to have a nine-to-five job and probably two women liking him, not someone like…Kim Dongyoung, the country’s heartthrob.

For, uncertainty will always be a dress she wears around him, and it has been settled by her to always hate the garment. “…Just s—shut up.” She fails on keeping her stutter in when she shuts the door behind her, and she swears she hears Dongyoung chuckling to himself.

The more she spends days with Dongyoung, the more she realizes just how different they are, and no matter how much he tries to integrate her into his world, she’ll never match. The darkness of his mansion is not for her, much less is it the coding system. The van is a little bit too much and the shutters of cameras when the two of them get out of the automobile makes her squint her eyes, while he is looking ahead as if the blinding lights don’t bother him. Dongyoung talks to her as if there are not hundreds of people around them, as if the paparazzi could not hear what they are saying, and she has to pretend like she is not bothered about the people that step on her feet or that point their cameras more at her because: the scandal of having her, that one interviewer that everyone thought Dongyoung hated, around him is just too much to bear, too beautiful to grasp.

But this is what this is. A scandal, a call for attention, nothing more, nothing less. Dongyoung would never be seen, even when dead, around someone like her in a normal setting—with an average outcome, a love for cinematography and journalism. Dongyoung is seen around actors, dating models and actresses, be-friending those who are around his net-worth, not because he needs it…but because that’s his line of work. Those are all the people he knows.

And had she not committed such a mistake, he would have never given her the time of the day, much less would have become friends with her. They would have been kept separated, sufficiently close for an interview, but never enough to have everyone shooting pictures of them looking for answers.

He doesn’t realize it, either, when she walks a little bit quicker just to get away from the cameras. They have enough pictures, hopefully his plan works soon and she can have her job back…because spending more time with Dongyoung will only bring her closer to this feeling she can’t quite explain, that tightness around her heart that only keeps her at ease when he is around.

###

“Hey!” Dongyoung calls out for her, typical, much more when he’s about to shoot. Seated by the makeup artists, she looks up from her phone to see Dongyoung waving at her, right in front of the cameras with a faint smile on his features. The set today looks different—a bed, dimly lit, with red covers and what seems to be a mess around it. One of the most difficult scenes for the actors, and even for her to watch. “Care to help me practice my lines?”

Her eyebrows shoot up, laughing at Dongyoung straight to his face. Absentmindedly, her fingers point at her chest, settling her phone down in the process. “Me? I’m your personal assistant, not your co-star. Let me be.”

“Come on, the actress hasn’t gotten here and I want to see if I can say things well.” Dongyoung utters, the reason as to why the makeup artists behind her sigh dreamily. The Dongyoung effect, maybe, or maybe she just keeps that sigh to herself whenever the man smiles at her a little too sincerely. “I’ll give you my script, you’ll play the prostitute.”

Those words make her halter her steps even when she has already stood up from her seat, scoffing at his words right after he says them: “Way to go, I’ll be the hooker.” Though, she snatches the script away from his hands. The lights of the set feel even harsher in that spot, the camera pointed directly at her, making her freeze in fear. A soft breath leaves her lips, barely audible and shaky, ripping through her chest while she tries not to remember the last time she was in front of a camera. It all went badly; clammy hands, stuttered words, blank spaces in her brain. “The cameras are not going to be on, right?”

“No, no, they will not.” Dongyoung tells her, looking at her face for any signs of discomfort before calling the cameraman. “Hey, care to point it another way while she helps me practice?”

His realization, sharp and intelligent, has her lessening the tension on her muscles when she looks down at the script at hand. There it is, the hooker character that she is supposed to play. “Tell me this is not the sex scene, please.”

Dongyoung laughs at her words, wholeheartedly, one hand brought to his chest when he lets the sound live in a free manner in such a filled and cramped space. “Pre-sex scene. Why? Want to help me out with the other one?”

Groaning, she tilts her head back, covering her face with the script. “It’s already difficult for me to have to watch you shooting that softcore sex scene. I don’t need you reminding me that I’ll be here for it.”

“Whatever,” He mumbles, taking his seat on top of the bed before pointing at his script with his hand. “Read the first line. It’s yours.”

This may be serious for him. To be under the lights must not be difficult for him, much less in front of a camera. Her confidence, now further deflated with the death of her job, becomes even lower the moment she reads the first line. Acting is just that; the unity of words, scene, camera-work and storyline to make everything function as if it was part of real life, a story to be told, but when she reads over the first scene, perhaps expertly played by the real actress, but not like herself, the words die down on the tip of her tongue. “Aren’t you—?” She cuts herself short, shaking her head. “I can’t do it.”

Dongyoung looks around at that, crossing his arms over his chest when saying: “It’s just a line.” But it’s definitely not a line that she’d say in front of people, much less when she remembers that someone is going to say this line to Dongyoung’s character, while dressed in that leather jacket that will always have a spot in her heart—even more so now that they added badges to it. This is just a line, part of what the character has to say, and the image of Dongyoung kissing this character—the first one in the season, is enough to have her blood boiling, just the slightest bit. Enough for it to be noticeable to her, at least. “…Why is it so difficult? We’re just acting.”

“Ugh, you’re insufferable,” She says, looking down at the blurring script when she reads out. “Aren’t you supposed to be the officer here? Go ahead, handcuff me—” Once she reads over the line, she tosses the script at his chest, watching him laugh with glee and bringing a grin up and out of her. “How do you expect me to say that line?! The only thing that needed to be added there to make it even more cringe-worthy is something along the lines of ‘daddy’, like what the hell is this?!”

Even someone from the production team seems to be laughing at her reaction, and Dongyoung has very well spread his body on top of the bed while laughing. “It’s not supposed to be sexual yet, oh my God—!”

His fingers hook around the script, resting it on top of her thigh just as he hears her speak. Adoration is written on his features, perhaps enjoying too much the fact that he gets to fluster her. “Yeah, what is it supposed to be?”

“A legit handcuffing scene. You’re on the wrong page. I realized when you picked up the script, but I let your mind reel whichever way you wanted it to go.” Dongyoung answers, giving her just enough time to launch her fists forward and hit his chest softly, his ribcage vibrating with every ounce of his laughter. “You’re so dirty without letting anyone know.”

“Shut up. I thought it was something else.” She answers, only to have Dongyoung wiggling his eyebrows.

“Oh, I know.” He answers, soon after patting the spot beside him before she takes it, looking into his concentrated eyes while he moves to the right page. “You don’t have to act them out…or say the entire sentence, you can just say the initiation and make sure that I say mine properly, word by word.”

This is the part of him that people never evaluate; that, had she known of him at the time, she would have loved to interview and question the time they met. He’s given to his work, entranced in the worlds of bringing a character to life, make it his, but also differentiate himself from the person that he is in front of the camera. The few undone buttons of his shirt under the leather jacket are not enough to take her gaze away from his concentrated eyes when he says line after line, perfectly, his hours of studying the script coming to a good conclusion for this show. Once it launches, people are going to fall in love for his character…but, who knows? Her problem may not fall on the character, per say, but on Kim Dongyoung himself.

###

May the laughter never die down, she hopes. May his always remain loud and clear, with a gummy smile paired in between even when she doesn’t get a front row sight of it just like now. Duri would have been proud of them if she saw them, time after her class, limbs interlocking with one another while they toss and torn on the flooring. His punches are soft against her face, and she lands some kicks on his side in this play-fighting thing that has been going around for the slightest of whiles. After all, when Dongyoung said ‘fight me’, she loved to take the literacy of it and turn it into a reality.

But not a lot of people get to see this—the raw side of Dongyoung, the one that shows just how ticklish he is, or that one moment of the night in which his retainers are on and he looks a thousand times less…celebrity-like. Gorgeous beyond explanation, he will always be, but this sight of him as she lands a soft punch on his gut, one that has him faking a gasp, is one that she doesn’t want anyone else to see.

Hyoyeon questions her reality at times, and Sujin turns a blind eye into the situation. Her take on it? She doesn’t want to conceptualize it. Days without Dongyoung are rare, but how can they not be when he calls her just for everything and anything. She doesn’t want to think of the fact that play-fighting with him feels as though she is fighting with herself, because she would love to be able to wrap her arms around him and simply hold him close for eternity. For once, she’d like for him to laugh with her and never again feel like she shouldn’t get too close. This flutter in her soul makes her think if this is as endless as it feels, or it’s just a matter of time before magazines start calling for her and she has to leave.

Now, seated beside Dongyoung and tickling his sides, the sound of his laughter is addictive, so much so that she feels egotistic simply holding him here. With her. People love to think that they have become friends, that he has forgiven her, but no one would ever dare to look too close. Hyoyeon and Jason may be right, questioning her intentions of ever wanting to go back to interviewing when she has been so happy there, with Dongyoung, attending him but also having attending her.

Making sure she eats.

Always sending her a goodnight text.

Boosting her confidence with little comments here and there.

When she stops, Dongyoung is still laughing, but he may not realize that she is smiling—but not enjoying this moment as much. Journalism will always be her one lover, but…this she feels has been dead long before, only to be brought alive for him. This sense of passion for something else that isn’t cinematography, instead of looking for movies to live a life of her own, she has…a story. A story that initiates, develops and ends.

“D—Did I punch you for real?” Dongyoung asks, bottom lip stuck in between his teeth when he asks her such thing, and she wants nothing more than to punch some sense into him. For him to fire her so she doesn’t have to look at him for longer and wonder what it would be like if famous actor Kim Dongyoung fell for her. If, for once, she would be as confident as she was back then and ask him the questions she has always wanted to unthread from its confines.

What happened with your last relationship?

Why does everyone think you cheated, Dongyoung?

…If you did, would you do it again?

Has your nice-guy image only been a glimpse of my imagination?

“No,” She answers, patting his abdomen just by the time she stands up, pointing towards the kitchen with a soft shrug of her shoulders. “I just got hungry. Maybe, we should be eating instead of playing around like that.”

“Come on, don’t be boring.” Dongyoung points out, reaching for a strand of her hair and pulling it softly. “You were the one that started the physical fight. I’m more of a debate guy myself.”

Though, she can only give him a short chuckle, hoping that he doesn’t realize that she already knows the matter…knows him for the person he is daily, and yet fears ever knowing him more, because these glimpses of his life have been enough to have her falling in love.

And he’ll never fall for someone like her.

###

Movement will always be a strange matter to her; how electricity deals even with the slightest of glides of her fingertips against the fabric of his tie, rubbing the soft and delicate material in between them before tying it snugly. Some movements can’t be felt, like the one that her heart is doing to go unnoticed by him, and the faint buzz of the elevator that holds them up and towards Dongyoung’s interview. The brown walls, dim golden lights, will never do justice to the man in front of her, always so polished when cladded on a suit, never close enough for her to remember everything about him.

Dongyoung holds beauty in him, he must know this, or at least she hopes he does. In him, even in the most intricate parts of his personality that he never gets to enjoy, and a word will never be told about this to him out loud, much less when she is talking about other things to him. Like, let’s say, how he needs to talk in this interview—how to avoid questions, how not to, how to answer some of the most difficult ones perfectly, how to probably become one of the wittiest celebrities nowadays. While voicing out the turning gears inside her head that are telling her, begging her, to compliment him is as difficult as it can get, speaking about journalism and interviews…not so much.

“What do I do if they ask about you? What do I say?” Dongyoung asks, this elevator going far too slow or the skyscraper just has too many floors. His eyes are what captivate her first when she finds herself still holding onto his tie, the elevator not powerful enough to move her out of her spot there, in front of him.

Everything with him feels like it shouldn’t electrify her this much, that it shouldn’t feel as though her hands are cramping and her heart drops to the pit of her stomach. As if, for some odd reason of the complexities in the chemistry of the human body, she can’t help but smile in most occasions when around him. “You just say we’re friends,” She tells him, tugging at the tie on his neck and hearing a breath getting caught in his throat. “And that I have to do your ties when you loosen them because you’re a poor excuse of a celebrity.”

Dongyoung frowns at that, pressing his index finger to her forehead in a teasing manner, making sure to rub it on the skin and bring a chuckle out of her. “You’re my assistant, you have to do something.”

“Oh, I do something.” But, one simple glance at him already feels like he is pulling her closer and closer to the depths of the masses that fall for him. For this image that Dongyoung has that exudes comfort, that screams romanticism in the oddest of ways—the type of man that will probably most likely prefer to stab his tongue with a fork than to say something remotely cheesy, but on the long run…will probably sneak in something romantic.

“Like what?” He prompts, still staring at her and her hands surprise her when they glide down to rest on the fabric of his black blazer, matching his hair, parted exactly how she met him—how she likes it, really.

“…Like trying to forget that you look this good right now.” She whispers, fingertips splaying across his heart, as if hoping to hear a heartbeat equally as rushed as hers. She can’t feel him, but her eyes can make out the figure of him when his eyes widen for a fraction of a second, lips parting ever so slightly just when his eyes glide to look at her features, everything around her face that can have the lights on top of them glistening even more on his brown irises.

“Is that so?” Dongyoung asks, face growing closer to hers when his eyes connect to her lips, his tongue slotting out to lick at his. “Because I have an image in my head I can’t really forget, and it’s all your fault.”

That breathlessness that characterizes her when around him makes its presence known when she breaths out the question: “What is that image you’re talking about?”

“You, the afternoon we met.”

Her fingers push together, suddenly hyperaware of where she is. The numbers on the elevator get closer to their floor, she is far too close to him, and she’s there because of that damned afternoon, not because of anything else— “Yeah, I don’t think you’ll ever forget that, I embarrassed us—”

Dongyoung’s fingers spread around her waist, thumb coming in contact with her ribcage, soft caresses of the digit against the fabric of her t-shirt. So unkempt, yet in her most natural stance. “It’s not about that. Why don’t you ever let me speak?”

“…Because you always say something stupid.”

“Either way,” Dongyoung rolls his eyes, a small smile appearing on his features. The elevator keeps buzzing in the background, softly, almost not perceivable if it was not for the overdrive of the adoring nature that blooms inside her chest when around him. “I never got the chance to tell you that you looked like a dream that time around. That violet dress…” His voice trails, his thumb pressing down on her skin softly, stopping his ministrations as if to ground himself. His body is close, close enough for the warmth of him to radiate over her, abdomens pressed together, and if she looks at him close enough, she swears she can see a blush under all that makeup. “All I kept thinking about was you in that dress the entire night.”

“Yeah, and also our interview.” She replies, breathy enough that the laughter that follows soon after dies down when she realizes the closeness of him. A thick gulp of her own is enough to showcase just how affected she is—thanks to his existence itself, to the way they met, to the situation in which they are in, in which she can feel every movement of his lungs against hers, back dipped to be closer to him, wanting to wrap her cold fingertips on the back of his suit, trailing down his shoulders, give him that one kiss that he seems to silently be begging for.

“Also, our interview.” Dongyoung replies. “Though, no matter how cringe-worthy it was, it got us to meet.”

“I’m glad it happened.” The situation falls on her like a bucket of cold water, because she was glad it happened. As in, Dongyoung had brought so much joy into her life that, in a way, it was meant to happen to her that said interview went wrongly.

“Huh, what did you say?” Dongyoung questions, one of his big smiles on his face and just when she is about to return it, the sound of the elevator doors opening dings rather too loudly, like the shatter of glass against the flooring as Sujin speaks in a cheery tone.

“Dongyoung, people are already waiting for you!”

Nothing would hurt more than the slip of his fingertips on her waist, like the sigh that left his lips when their bodies were no longer pushed together, when the pure magnetism of him is enough to make her feel powerless only she sees him slipping away from her. Not for long, however, because she needs to follow after Sujin and Dongyoung when the manager’s fingers reach for her wrist, dragging her away from the elevator that welcomed a sense of realization. Dongyoung had been equally as captivated with her as she had been with him the time they met. Or so she wants to believe.

###

After-parties are, to put it simply, the culprit of most of the scandals that celebrities get involved in. There are too many secrets to be discovered when being a journalist in the middle of an after-party event, but since the title just simply stands as her degree and not her occupation currently, she has to act as Dongyoung’s personal assistant only. Standing near the bar with him, a bottle of beer brought up to his lips while they converse about this and that, she finds herself leaning away from the gossip her eyes could capture—and could possibly confirm to Hyoyeon for a premise—to instead concentrate on him. What’s new? She doesn’t know, but it always feels as though watching him is a refreshing moment each time. Different, Dongyoung will always be different from the rest, and in the best of ways.

The buttons of his white shirt are opened, giving a glimpse of the necklace around his neck, that one ring he likes shining far too brightly when resting against the freezing cold bottle of beer. After hiding away from the world for the season finale, barely doing so much as eating if she doesn’t pressure him to do so. As it seems, now that the first season is recorded and will eventually be released to the world, Dongyoung has some time to enjoy a cold treat, though the tiredness in his features is far too much for her to bear. Still beautiful, yet endlessly tired, enough to have him complaining about it every once in a while.

At least, he voices out his concerns.

Dongyoung’s eyes widen momentarily while he is speaking, something behind of her making him widen his eyes and this is enough to be denoted with how expressive he is. Maybe, he’s a good actor—but he’s not good enough to lie to her. His body grows uncomfortable at that moment, leaning forward to where he is as if to cage her from whatever is behind her, a protection of sorts that she despises the moment she sees the tight-lipped smile he gives her.

Whoever Kim Dongyoung is, whether a character or not, he always tries to shelter her. Guilt may be the reason why he does this, but she has never been made of glass. The journalism world is not easy; it’s all about competition, about stepping over someone and getting that one column in the magazine—Dongyoung, though sweet, could never protect her for long enough. Even then, when the ache of her mistake at the interview had subsided, there is still hate thrown her way, fingers pointing at her lying ways, as if she’s some gold-digger that is trying to cling to him. Nothing will ever be sunshine and rainbows, and this is what shatters her about him, what keeps her away from falling fundamentally into his arms, even when it’s not reciprocated.

Dongyoung will hide anything just to protect her.

Once she turns, the body of a woman she recognizes fully is the first thing she sees. Too far away for her to fully see the smile on this woman’s face, but it’s there, a wave sent her way that has Dongyoung scoffing beside her. His ex, that infamous ex that she had little to no information about, at least no more than what she knew as a journalist. His co-star three years ago in some movie that he was part of, the romance on the screen showcased into his real life and turning everything around for him. The scandal—with not enough details, as well—consisted on Dongyoung cheating on her, the cause of their break-up.

And she’s tired of Dongyoung, in a way, of this protective band that he keeps around him in case someone gets too close. There has been enough time for them to meet, for her to talk about past experiences with him over dinner, for them to share enough words that she doesn’t think there could ever be enough time to express just how close they had gotten. At least, on her part. Just now, it downs on her the reason as to why it’s so difficult to trust Dongyoung, why the world will always feel too artificial when around him—

He is just mending a scandal, but he never speaks about the reason why the scandal happened on the first place.

The actress is gorgeous; typical as typical can get. Long hair cascading in waves, beautiful eyes enticed by her elongated eyelashes, the redness of her lips could be caused by the drink on her hand, but not enough information about Jo Seoyeon will ever be enough for her to get interested on anything she does. What keeps clouding her brain in uncertainty right now is Dongyoung, now fully aware that she has looked at his ex.

“Did you really cheat on her?” Cutting the chase, the confidence that had once took over her when on interviews resurfaces simply to ask that question, but she’s not asking as an interviewer—she’s asking from the point of view of a person that likes Dongyoung, that has seen him at his best and worst in the past few months, and needs the answer of a part of the situation that had wrapped her up with him, on the first place.

Dongyoung’s eyes grow cold at that, the inside of his cheek bitten expertly when he places his bottle of beer down on the pristine and black counter by the bar. “No, of course not,” He complains, a tilt to his voice that comes with a raspy tone. All thanks to the drink, his first one of the night; he seems to have grown unused to the alcohol. “Do you really think I would—?”

“That’s the thing Dongyoung, one thing is what I think and the other one is what you plan to tell me.” She replies, biting down on her bottom lip to stop herself, but this is not enough to water the rampant fire inside of her. “Because—you’ve been telling the world, the paparazzi, the country, everyone that we are friends and sometimes, I really do think that we are friends—that is, until I realize that you keep things hidden from me.”

“You’re going to think I’m a pussy.” Dongyoung squints his eyes, looking at her after he babbles that nonsense her way. Truthfully, maybe he is ignorant to the advances he has in her heart, that almost absolutely nothing about him could make her think he’s a coward—only this, this hiding he does is cowardly enough for her to point it out.

“I’m not the kind to call you a pussy,” She quirks an eyebrow. “You know what you could be a pussy for? Not talking about this. Whatever happened needs to be sorted out, not with the world, but with yourself—”

“That I got cheated on? That’s what you want to know?” The strain on his voice could very well belong to one of his most dramatic scenes, but the edge of his tone is so much like Dongyoung that she knows she has hit a nerve. More than hit, stepped on it repeatedly, like hitting an elbow but instead of a hit it’s a whole fracture. His chest rises and falls, looking into her eyes as he speaks. “That her team did everything and anything to put me as the bad guy, gaining me a whole lot of backlash? I had two scandals all in less than a month, and I didn’t even defend myself for neither of them. I was scared. Is that what you want to hear?”

“If it’s the truth, it’s exactly what I want to hear from you.” She bites back, placing one hand over his back and surprisingly, he doesn’t pull away. “What really happened?”

“I—I was travelling for…for some movie.” Dongyoung indicates, hand lifting up to swat into the air as if the memory is worthless. “Got to her mansion to surprise her, saw her with a guy, made sure to tell her just how much of a scumbag she is, left. Next thing I knew, I was on all tabloids painted as a cheater, without proof, but people seem to believe her because she’s so nice, and so small, and so sweet.” His eyes roll at that, running his fingers through his hair and rubbing at his scalp. “I had to own it, what else could I do?”

To imagine Dongyoung in such a situation—happy, ready to enter the household of a loved one, and to have his hopes crushed by the sight of his girlfriend cheating on him makes her blood boil. Skin to skin, soul to soul, whichever way the cheating was, it had destroyed him romantically and…professionally. “You could have given your side of the story, Dongyoung. Just because you’re a guy…you shouldn’t be targeted as the cheater.”

“Ah, but I was. If I complained, I’d only be seen as a liar…” Dongyoung says, looking over to the side when the bottle of beer lifts up to his lips, taking a swig before sighing heavily. “I’m sorry I never told you. I thought you’d be pointing fingers at me because you’re a journalist, you’d probably believe the tabloids more. Dongyoung, can’t keep his dick in his pants, cheated on his girlfriend.”

Her fingers reach forward until her arm is wrapped around his shoulder, bringing him closer as if to, for once, shelter him as well. Being in the eye of the paparazzi while going through a break-up, betrayal mixing with anger, must have taken such a huge toll on him that it could have turned him into a bitter, rotten man. “I know you...all I need is some honesty for me to know whether you did or did not do something. If we’re friends, you need to open up to me.”

Dongyoung smiles at that, the edge of his bottle of beer resting in between his lips when they meet gazes. “I’m sorry if I was not entirely honest—”

“Ah, I wasn’t entirely honest either.”

“How so?” Dongyoung’s smile drops, her own appearing on her face when she nudges his side, his own hand coming to rest at her waist when she whispers.

“That I prefer Jungwoo’s movies over yours.” The comment is supposed to cut the ice that is now falling into droplets of water in between them, comfort settled into the once enemies as Dongyoung chuckles at her words.

“Hey, me too.” He answers, as always filling her with laughter absentmindedly. One look at him is enough to satiate this feeling inside her, craving for more of him but settling for what’s closer…to have him as a friend.

###

The harsh tug on her shoulder should be a clear indicator of who is touching her, too harsh and with hands too calloused, though that can only be felt through the slots of the gloves on this person’s hands. The kitchen is packed by four people now; Sujin, who is already placing a green smoothie on Dongyoung’s hands, the actor himself and this person, who speaks her name in a soft tone.

“Ouch, hello to you too, Youngha.” The mumble that lips her lips has Dongyoung laughing from the other side of the room. His chauffeur, a person that she has gotten to know quite too well, goes by the name of Youngha and while everything about her screams ruggedness, there is some kind of sweet nature deep in her soul. Though, her strength is something else, she should probably consider leaving Dongyoung stranded with the chauffeur project and simply dedicate her life to professional boxing.

“Is my boy over there bothering you too much?” The woman over her forties say, ruffling her hair when she looks ahead at the man already making a face to the smoothie wrapped by his long fingertips. Sujin is already talking to him about the lengths of his day, and she should really be paying more attention—but in her defense, she is paying attention to him. Dongyoung, cladded in a black shirt and sweatpants, his weight pushed forward slightly thanks to his leaning-back posture on the counter, arms more prominent, the muscles in them defining themselves softly. His hair is falling in bangs over his forehead today, dreamy beyond relief, one of his legs crossed over the other and elongating them even more.

She does deserve an award, for standing him and for not accidentally confessing to him. “He’s been treating me fine, but you know…he’s always bothering me either way. Too picky.” She answers, watching as Dongyoung takes big bites of the sandwich in between his fingertips. The recipe is aced by her hands by now.

“I know,” Youngha answers, pointing at her phone resting on the table. “It’s vibrating. I think you’re getting a call.”

Ever since she got the password to the shared business e-mail for Dongyoung, she has kept her phone silent. Too many emails, which she doesn’t really feel like answering most of the time, and she shouldn’t in the first place, either. However, the screen illuminates with a contact name that she’d never thought she’d see again when she lifts the device up to her face, jumping out of her seat when she voices out her concerns.

“It’s my ex-boss, oh my God!” Though, she picks up immediately, eager to know that Dongyoung’s plan may have worked for something, three months after its start. The button to put her on speaker is glided by her fingertip, watching as Dongyoung nears her with an astounded expression on his face, lips settled in an ‘o’ shape and eyebrows joined together when she speaks onto the phone. “Hello, Mr. Han. Why do I get the pleasure to receive your call?”

The joyous sound of a coo from her elderly ex-boss has her smiling, much more when she says: “Ah, my darling columnist, you don’t know how much I’ve missed you.” Enough now that Dongyoung has hired her as his personal assistant, that her name is more known and her face is more recognized. People know of her now, of course Mr. Han would miss her. “How have you been? I’ve seen you around Kim Dongyoung nowadays.”

“I’ve been good. Thank you for asking.” She answers. “How are the children?”

Dongyoung sighs audibly at the sound of the woman’s voice. “Lovely. They have been asking about you nonstop.”

“Is that so? I thought they didn’t even know about my existence.”

“They do now!” Mr. Han laughs joyfully, dramatically, just like any other woman that has lived her life through gossip. Not to be misunderstood, Mr. Han has been around the scene since the sixties, practically tuning the entire journalism scene into its own axis to make it her own. “By the way, honey, I won’t take any more time from you…do you think you could meet up with me one of these days? I was reading over your denied articles and I can’t believe I passed these gems by.”

This is what Dongyoung had promised at the beginning of their plan—his friends will always get great opportunities. The image of her white desk, her old laptop, the pencils and pens she kept on some holder nearby in her office is enticing enough for her to part her lips to speak, but one glance up has her seeing Dongyoung’s angry expression. His hands snatch her phone away from her hands, her eyebrows raising in anger when she tries to go over the counter to snatch the phone away from him.

“Hi, Mr. Han, it’s very nice to hear from you. It’s Kim Dongyoung here.” Before Mr. Han could say any more of her hypocritical greetings, Dongyoung continues speaking. “I’d love for you to keep talking with my friend, but after firing her on the spot without even considering how it would ruin her economically…I don’t think you even deserve a columnist like her with you. All you’re doing right now is bringing someone popular along with you, even though when she was only known as a journalist, not as my friend, you could not give two fucks about her.” The sincerity in him is to be expected, but her eyes widen frantically as she tries to get him to stop, hands colliding against his forearm to have him release her phone.

“Dongyoung, shut up—!”

“Ah, Kim Dongyoung, you have some attitude to you.” Mr. Han scolds him in that tutted tone of her, as if she’s trying to play the situation off lightly.

“She doesn’t need you or your magazine. I’d give her a magazine of her own if she asked me to. Just…don’t go around and pretend like now she’s such a worthy journalist for you, when you never cared for her.” Dongyoung answers, pressing his finger against the red button on her phone to end the call.

The air feels dense, one last smack landing on his chest when she realizes exactly what he had done. That one opportunity to get her job back, exactly what he intended to have happening on the first place, is suddenly thrown into the trash, leaving her in the turmoil of being Dongyoung’s personal assistant for…however long he wants. “Dongyoung, you don’t get to have choices in my life like that.” She says, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear

Dongyoung, now breathing rapidly, leans over the counter until they are face to face. “I meant it. When I said I’d get you your journalism job back, when I said I’d give you your own magazine if you wanted to…just give me time. I don’t need you taking any job, much less one that never appreciated you, just because you want to get away from me.”

“It’s not about getting away from you, you know this.” Her voice is soft, understanding the caring nature under his actions, before sighing deeply. “It’s about…I’m not a personal assistant, Dongyoung, I love journalism and I don’t want to have this job forever. I want you as a friend, I just don’t want to leave my passion behind, either.”

“And you won’t,” Dongyoung says, his eyes skimming over her features before sighing deeply. “I can promise you that much.”

Sujin points at his watch, the tapping of his fingernail against the glass sounding softly around the kitchen. “Dongyoung, we have things to do. Leave the drama for later.”

His eyes, filled with guilt, give her his utmost sincerity when he says: “Just give me a little bit more time.”

###  

Two days is all it takes to have Dongyoung texting her to meet him at the dressing room. This time around, however, the set is different—his historical movie is going to start its recordings soon, at least the ones that can be done in the city currently, and the dressing room is in some field instead of a set with a ceiling itself. The rush is still there, however, opening the doors of the moving dressing room in a hassle just to see over three women working on Dongyoung’s makeup, hair and that gorgeous outfit that makes him look as if he was taken out of the 1600’s.

The extensions on his black hair are a look that she isn’t sure if she likes, but the delicacy of his features when she moves towards him, getting a good glimpse of the makeup being patted to his face, is something she will never be able to forget. His hand comes forward even when his eyes are closed, patting around the surfaces until he gets to her knee, touching it softly.

“Dongyoung, did you just text me to touch my knee? You said it was an emergency.” She replies quickly, earning well-deserved laughter from Dongyoung as he opens his eyes. The gold eyeshadow could barely seen had it not been for the bright lights of the vanity illuminating them for her, or maybe she just noticed because her intent is always on Dongyoung.

“I wish it was for that,” Dongyoung replies, reaching for his phone and unlocking it in a quickened manner. “I had a few calls with magazines I had interviews with. I’ve been calling the entire morning, which is why I had you away from here looking for my favorite vintage Versace jacket. Which I am guessing you didn’t find.” The playful tone of his voice has her cursing out loud, because he said it was necessary and she had been looking everywhere for that Versace jacket that he said was in his closet, but his closet is far too big for her to find something specific. “Because it’s actually here.”

“You fucking asshole—” She mumbles, half of her body resting on top of her vanity before nodding at him. “What was that for?”

Dongyoung turns the screen of his phone towards her then, having her squint to read the fine black letter of an email. God, she hates those. “I’ve been calling magazines and I had Sujin send me your resume, so I’ve been looking for a good position for you in some magazine, as an interviewer as well as a columnist. You’d have your own spot in cinematography in the magazine, will give you an editor and whatnot…I found you a job.” Those last few words are only heightened in excitement when her surprise is even bigger, watching the name of the magazine at the end of the e-mail that takes her in. That’s the biggest magazine on the whole country, over sixty years of absolute delight in the journalism field—

Her hand comes up to her mouth, fingers shaking when she realizes just exactly what Dongyoung had done. He had kept his promise, but not only that—he had given her more than he had initially promised. The sadness on his features is there, a little pout in his smile when, for some reason, she doesn’t even care about the makeup artists around him and latches herself into his arms, his own wrapping around her waist when she clings onto his shoulders. Hugs shouldn’t feel this good, this tight, like she’s letting go of him to go to something bigger, something better…something that was entirely planned by Dongyoung.

“Oh my God, I love you! How could you do this?” She asks, tears already prickling at her eyes by the time Dongyoung chuckles. He doesn’t realize that the first few words may mean something else, his fingers caressing at the skin of her waist, now uncovered because of the hug and the raise of her t-shirt.

“I know you wouldn’t be happy being my personal assistant forever, so I had to let go of you.” Dongyoung answers, making her sigh when she lets go of him and takes him by the cheeks. One of the makeup artists whines at her action, making her pull away with her hands lifted up in the air.

“Sorry.” She says, taking his phone from his hand and reading the e-mail again. “Oh shit, I’m really—”

“Yes, you’re going. You start in three days. They’re preparing your office.”

“My own personal office?”

“Your own personal office.” Dongyoung complies, patting his makeup artists’ hands away to push them away. “Come give me another hug, I’m going to miss you so much.” His voice is serious, his hands spreading just in time for her to go to his arms again and hug him as she will never see him again, which may not be the case at all, at least not from her part. His arms take her in securely, making her feel safe when he rests his chin against her shoulder, chuckling softly at her quivering form. “Don’t cry.”

But how can she not cry when the realization of being in love with Dongyoung downs on her with whiplash, leaving her dizzied and romanticizing him? “…I will miss you so much, too.”

###

“You did not.”

Eating with her group of friends once again, though from different magazines at this point, is more than she could have ever asked for. Months ago, she had that same meal of noodles practically bathed in soy sauce, wondering if she’d be able to pay for something like this again—and with the payment Dongyoung gave her as his personal assistant, along with her new salary as a journalist and interviewer in the country’s most prestigious magazine, she is more than thankful to have a meal with Jason and Hyoyeon once again. Spending a lot of time in the celebrity world seemed to have pulled her away from this.

Jason’s hair is now longer, not bleached anymore but in its natural black color, tied behind his head to show an undercut, probably something that Hyoyeon recommended for him to try. Hyoyeon, equally as gorgeous, not wears an engagement ring on the hand that holds Jason’s under the table, looking at her with nothing less than distaste after telling her the entire details of what Dongyoung had done, not forgetting the adventures that had gone through since the beginning of their job together as…coworkers?

Celebrity and personal assistant?

Friends?

Hyoyeon pats her fiancé’s thigh, absolutely mortified by what she said, her thin eyebrows drawn together in a frown. “You mean to tell me that a guy treats you like this and you still consider that he’s not into you?” She asks. Oh, of course, she must have slipped somewhere into the story how endlessly in love she is with Dongyoung, and how okay she is with the unrequited love as long as she continues to have him in her life. Warmth is necessary, and instead of going back to the snow, she’d rather have the sun and never reach it.

“Oh, he’s so into her.” Jason says, playing around with his chopsticks as if a set of drums is on the table. “You should’ve seen his face when he was approaching us for the interview. He couldn’t get his eyes off her.”

Reminiscent of that confession at the elevator, she twists on her seat and muffles her sigh with a bit of her food, munching on it as she speaks. No longer does she have to worry about people taking pictures of her without her consent, thankfully. “That’s because someone,” A pointed glare thrown towards Hyoyeon. “Gave me a dress that had half of my boobs slipping out.”

“Ah, you looked hot, come on. Even you know this.” Hyoyeon complains, taking one of the noodles on her plate and tossing it at her, landing on her hair before she swats it off. “Stop being childish and recognize that he is so into you.”

Though the image of waking up to Dongyoung in his king-sized bed, only to see his sculptured face and gummy grin early in the morning, is more than she could ever wish for and a desire that she has deep in her soul, it’s too…impossible. “He’s not. He probably likes actresses like his ex—”

“He likes you.” Jason says. “He gave you the best job ever, he has told you things he hasn’t told anyone, not to mention that all those pictures released of the two of you have him looking at you as if you’re the universe itself.”

Whoever has seen Dongyoung from up close knows that, if anything, she was the one that looked at him as if he held the entirety of the universe, never-ending, scary on its way but enticing in another, in his eyes. She plays around with her food, shaking her head at his words with a smile on her face. “He just sees me as a friend, that’s it. He’s a celebrity and—”

“You’ll never know until you ask him!” Hyoyeon points out, shaking the table when she lands a palm on it. “Listen, with you he wasn’t a celebrity, or the country’s most loved actor…he was himself with you.” Still, this gets no reaction our of her, the conversation has been going around it for long enough for her to convince herself that she is never going to tell him, too afraid of rejection. “…You cried when you left your job as his assistant.”

A gasp masks this. “I cried because he got me a job.”

Hyoyeon, always smart, shakes her head. “No, you cried because you were afraid that after leaving that job you weren’t going to see him again. And you fear this because you love him. Why don’t you want to just accept you love him and just tell him?”

The room falls silent, though it doesn’t, it just feels like it may have. The restaurant is still packed, with families feeding their youngest ones, couples spending time together, friends joining in laughter…and she’s there, feeling alone even when she’s accompanied, so thankful but still longing to see Dongyoung after weeks of working at a magazine. Texts are not enough, neither are videocalls, and meeting up with him has been almost impossible when he’s in France for the release of his latest movie, one that he recorded last year. “Ah, it doesn’t matter,” She tries to play off, swatting her hand as if it is nothing. “He’s in Paris, either way. He’s going to be having his movie released and he’s going to attend some red carpet, possibly a party after, and now that I’m not there…he may find someone.”

Jason widens his eyes at that, snapping his fingers at the idea that crosses his head. “Tell your magazine to have you interview him and his cast on the red carpet. It would gain lots of traction, which is good for the magazine, for your past scandal and he would get to see you.”

The idea of seeing Dongyoung again, on the red carpet, to make up for that one time in which she ruined it all, and to see him again, brings a flutter up her spine when she stops chewing on her food to say. “Should I?”

Now more excited than ever, Hyoyeon stands up from her spot, the chair dragging in the process when she claps her hands together. “Yes, yes, call your magazine! I already have the dress that you’re going to use in mind and oh my God, how many days do we have to prepare for this?”

“Four…if my magazine says yes…” Taken away by the narrative her friends propose, she follows after Hyoyeon’s steps, leaving Jason behind to pay. She’ll pay the half after. “Should I even do this?” Though her phone is already up her ear, and she may be even more eager than them to just see Dongyoung.

“Oh, not only you should,” Hyoyeon confidently says. “You will.”

###

With a new cameraman rushing behind her, not sufficiently comfortable with him yet to scream at him to hurry up like she would with Jason, the sole of her heels digs into her skin the more she runs into the red carpet, searching for that perfect spot that could capture the cast’s—and Dongyoung’s attention—. Nonetheless, the jetlag and the hours of last-minute studying had made her wake up late and without the help of either Jason or Hyoyeon to help her with that damned dress, she had gotten out of the hotel a little bit later than expected.

Exactly by the left corner of the red carpet, near where the limousines and cars would park when delivering the celebrities one by one, is where she ends up standing and only then does she realize just how heavy this necklace is on her neck, patting it with her fingers to make sure it stays there. Hyoyeon had made it sufficiently clear for her to know that this necklace is worth, at least, seven of her salaries and she should protect it with all her might. The leverage is well-welcomed, much more with the spurts of nervousness growing like flowers all over her body, but not enough to have her covering herself like the first time.

When Hyoyeon said she had the perfect dress, she meant it. Red, this time it’s the color of passion, like the one Dongyoung had both taken from her but given it back from her with her journalism job, the sleeves long even when they are trailing down her shoulders. The length is elegant, but it snatches her waist a little too harshly, leaving her with shortened breaths that capture themselves on her chest. Or…is that because she is genuinely nervous of seeing Dongyoung, not after years but after weeks of not meeting up with him, and to see the surprise on his features?

The most she hopes is for him to be happy, at least relieved to see her, for having her magazine send her there last minute had taken a toll on her. Playing on her hands is her career, one that could be absolutely destroyed if the expression on Dongyoung’s face is of distaste. That thought crosses her head over and over again, making her move backwards and forward with those heels, the straps digging on her skin like restraints, but not powerful enough to keep her in place.

When the cameras start flashing immediately, cheers being heard in the forms of screeches and shouts of his name, her heart picks up its pace so rapidly that she almost swore she had a mini heart attack then. Her hands, clammy like the first time, hold onto the microphone with tight fingertips as he nears the red carpet. His poses are simple, one hand resting on the pocket of his gray suit, the color of his tie in a color of orange—an odd combination, but it looks good, something that she would have never thought of him using, too much of a lover of black and white.

His hair is sleeked back, just how she likes it, and just when he nears the masses of interviewers, she steps forward. Calling his name comes easily, professionally, at least this interview is not live and that may be the reason why she is so confident. Dongyoung’s ears, as if perked up by her voice, check around the groups of journalists until he finds her. His eyes meet with hers, breathing heavily for a second longer than she imagined, a smile caressing his features when he rushes towards her, his arm extending to wrap around her shoulders, his other hand waving at the masses of people going crazy for him.

But even from up close, and not screaming, there is someone going crazy for him…not the man in the suit, but the man inside that soul. The man that had given everything to her in the form of friendship.

“Kim Dongyoung, it’s so nice to see you again. You look amazing this evening.” She comments into her microphone, earning a smile worth a million diamond rings from Dongyoung, who takes the microphone from her hands and speaks into it with glee.

“I’m so happy to see you here, you don’t know.” He pulls away for a moment, his eyes inspecting her body before chuckling at her. “Red, that’s a nice look on you.”

“Thank you. So, Dongyoung, your latest movie includes—”

The redemption tastes sweeter than she imagined, but the departure of the man after such a successful and full interview is what hurts the most. Dongyoung’s broad shoulders is the last thing she sees when he goes onto another interviewer, far enough until he is inside the place in which his movie is going to be broadcasted in. He’s a celebrity, and she’s just an interviewer…but there is a lingering memory there, not of being his personal assistant or his friend…but something else…

As if his eyes hold something that she doesn’t quite know how to express. Gratitude? Adoration? Respect?

From the expanse of the couch on her hotel room, bigger than the one she was in before the disastrous red carpet with Dongyoung when they first met, she gets to see the recap of her interview. Everything looks fine, but from up close and paying attention to it, putting that observational eye that journalists have into it…she does see glimpses of what Jason and Hyoyeon had been talking about. Dongyoung’s eyes never leave hers, nodding intently to her words, smiling so brightly that the flashes of the camera could never hurt him…because he’ll always shine brighter. His arm never left her shoulder until the interview was over and even then, Dongyoung’s eyes lingered on her a little bit longer.

But it couldn’t be. It couldn’t be that Dongyoung had some kind of interest in her, and it couldn’t be that when she hears a knock on her hotel door, standing up with a groan and opening it with a harsh pull, she sees him, out of all people, standing in front of a cheap hotel’s room with his hands interlocked in front of his body. Dongyoung nods as a greeting, leaving her more dumbfounded when his suit is long gone, just like her dress is, now changed for casual clothing and—

“Shouldn’t you be in some party?”

“I skipped it, but I also locked myself out of my hotel room accidentally. Had to call Sujin, he told me he had been texting you and also, I asked him for your hotel’s address so I could visit you.” Dongyoung explains in a monotone voice, moving his hands the more he delves into the story. Laughter is caught in her lips, shaking her head at his antics before opening the door wider.

“I’ll let you in.” She says, looking up and down his body when he enters. That typical black-on-black outfit choice of his will be the death of her. “What did you bring with you?”

Dongyoung’s fingers hook around the CD on his fingers, swaying it in front of her with glee. “It’s my favorite early 2000’s movie. I was hoping we could watch it.” He says, splaying himself on the couch with extended arms before waving his fingers at her, as if calling out for her to take the seat beside him. “You didn’t expect me to see you in that dress, and red, out of all colors…and not want to see you, right?” The question is muffled when she lays down by his side, taking his hand that is on the headrest and putting it over her shoulder before sighing.

“Only the dress?” She prompts, lifting an eyebrow at Dongyoung, who clearly matches the atmosphere of Paris. The jetlag, the hard work, the running…everything is worth it when she gets to see that gummy smile again.

“…And you. I missed you like crazy.”

“I missed you, too.”

The movie, though interesting enough to have her paying attention to the storyline, is not the main thing on her mind. The feeling of his body by her side is what keeps her tranced, watching the movie with him and a little bit over the one-hour mark when she starts to feel the aftereffects of being so close. Dongyoung is a pillar, a guard in a way, the one person that had taken her confidence with him and brought it back full force, mainly because he didn’t mean to snatch it away on the first place. Months ago, she would not have hesitated to put him in his place, but now she finds herself hesitating to get closer…to admit to him that she wants nothing more than to have him for herself and herself only.

Because she’s egotistic, but she’s naïve enough to not act upon it. It’s only when his hand trails down to her waist, grasping on the fabric of her t-shirt like he always does, that her gaze finally pulls away from the movie to look at him. The horrid lights of the hotel room don’t take away his beauty, looking at her with curiousness in his eyes the more he inspects her features, head tilted back just slightly before he nears her. The couch ruffles under his weight, sounds softly when he is looming over her just slightly.

The way he looks at her, brown eyes settling on her lips, is enough to take her breath away. Much more when those lips—one that she had never even paid attention to when they met—near hers until he is speaking so closely that a gush of his breath is oxygen for her lungs. “You know…I’m not good with words.” Dongyoung whispers, his other hand parting on her thigh until his fingers grab on it softly. “…Which is why I always compliment the dresses, and never the person that wears them.”

She chuckles, airily, albeit a bit scared of the situation…of him, swallowing her whole with the feelings she has for him. “What does that mean?”

Dongyoung looks down, rubbing his lips softly against hers, the shadow of a kiss falling on top of her skin, enough to have her puckering her own as if to reach him, but the contact is cut too soon. That does not mean he pulls away, however, because he doesn’t. “That all this time, from the beginning, I’ve been not going crazy for the dresses…but for you.”

This moment, she wants to treasure forever. This moment is the consequence of something that was once unintended, but has now all her intention when she says. “…You say that as if you didn’t know already that I was in love with you.”

Dongyoung’s lips trail from the corner of her lips, leaving soft and dreamy kisses on her cheeks, her jaw, down to kiss a small flower of growth on her neck before going up to her lips again. He laughs, actually, though too soft for it to be funny. “I didn’t know until you said so.”

“Everyone is in love with you…” She answers, craving for him to finally kiss her, but also fearing the conclusion of it. “How are you going to even add me into your life? Your fans are going to hate me again if I dare touch you as something more than your friend.”

“…Do you really think I care about that?”

“You may.”

“I don’t,” Dongyoung answers, pressing another fleeting kiss to her lips before sighing against them. “I care about you because I’m, also, in love with you and if I keep talking, I’m going to ruin the mood, so let me kiss you before I go insane—”

Just like how she had always dreamed of since the time her feelings for Dongyoung blossomed into something else—though, she may never know when that happened in all those months of being together daily—, her hands connect to his back when his lips finally lay down on hers. His mouth parts softly, jaw tightening the slightest when he takes his precious time into kissing her profoundly, like he wants to thread her soul with his and leave it there forever. In a way, she doesn’t think she’ll ever be able to forget the feeling of his chest to hers, his hand caressing her thigh, his grounding palm on her waist, tongue running over her bottom lip slowly before he takes the lead again. By the time her breathing is ragged, kissing him with more fervor just to keep him there—with her, in that moment in which he is not a huge celebrity but hers instead, she finally hears the echo of his words inside her head.

I’m, also, in love with you.

That means…Dongyoung loves her. It’s difficult to think about—an interviewer, who almost lost her entire career to him, loves him back.

His teeth are grazing against her bottom lip when she speaks in between a chuckle, grabbing his cheeks with her extended palms. “I hope this means you’re my boyfriend now, because if it isn’t…I’m going to kick you out.”

Dongyoung smiles, that cheery grin that she will never get enough of, when he presses a smooch to her lips before saying: “That was my intention all along.”

#doyoung scenarios #doyoung #nct scenarios #nct #kpop scenarios #writing #doyoung angst #doyoung fluff #doyoung au #nct fluff #nct angst #nct au #actor!doyoung #interviewer!au #meet messy!au #mannnn i'd love to hear opinions about this one!

[themanicgalaxy]

SPN 7X4 Defending Your Life

I'm making an exception today, because I've figured out QUITE a bit about my own stress response

oh right the monster Dean killed

also to recap: my period has every sign of starting(including cramps) but nothing, I've been horribly nauseous all day, I feel a hunger response when I'm DEFINITELY not hungry(stress eating and it's the only thing that makes the nausea subside) and headache(altho that could be the lack of sleep). Also emotions all over the place(Crying, happy, very on the hat etc)

and the WORST part is I can NEVER tell until I have physical reactions. I can NEVER TELL WHAT MY EMOTIONS ARE WHAT DOES THAT MEAN I THOUGHT I WAS PERFECTLY OK OR NOT FEELING ANYTHING

ooo chase scene

gHOST CAR

ooo good segway into intro

that cut coping mechanism does NOT seem like it's healthy

mONSTER OF THE WEEK

oh COME ON HERE's THE LYING

the visuals are cool

"license to kill"

no come on sam that was a good one.

"dead and sober, dead and crappy" no Dean, please, you need to figure that out

ah yes tortured soul

FL OW ER SH O P

that was suspicious

oh

it's just because she's dead and dead at 10

oh

the CAr

"makes you wonder if the guy who was drunk ran her over" *drinks beer*

O H H H H H HSIDOFAHPAS

GHOST RIDER

at least I know they're nerds, whoever wrote this

is it manifesting their guilty conscience

aw but the dog is so fluffy

*lies down, bounces back up again* lmaooo

Dean is Tired

didn't they DEAL With a ghost car?

it's people that kept going?

DEAN IS RUNNING ON SO MUCH EMPTY AHAHAHA

A H CUZ HE DIDN'T SLEEP BECAUSE THE GIRL HE KILLED

that took me as second

"If I ate apples" DEAN

also they're really doing license plate shots above how Cool the Impala is shots now, lil thing

"you won't even believe me" ahaha

...courtroom?

fUCKING NEAL'S TAVERNNNN

we kind of specialize in crazy ahaaha

"except that's complete crap"

"everyone judges all day long"

He just..takes punishment?

ahahah N O P E GREY AREA

no this is way more watchable

SA M SOUNDS SO TIRED AHAHA

*whispers* "stay put"

he DOES look good though

ok fine just gonna tune out the flirting

they ARE both pretty

is it that guy

the creepy guy in the shadows

how much is in scotch I have no idea

ah the red, what people were clawing

THAT'S NOT HOW OSIRIS WORKS but fine ok let's go

THAT'S NOT

ok fine

"it hones in on people who feel guilty, N OW WHO DOES THAT SOUND LIKE TO YOU" oh boy literally both of them got it that was hilarious

this does seem like he's talking himself into a role

the salt...might not work for osiris

shit she really is pretty

AH RED SAND ok ok yeah I see it ok

a h egyptian shit

ALL YOU NOTICED WERE THE SYMBOLS LMAOOO

THAT DOOR SLIDE WAS SO FUNNY

He's cool though, I like the pagan shit

"Sam, you're not a lawyer" "yes I was pre law" "pre"

"good one" "I saw that on the good wife"

THIS IS HILARIOUS

J O

oh no

the mining itself sucks but this concept is good

took his breathing away?

It reads a bit as excusing them for everything

She backs them up at least?

I miss her

see here's the thing, it kinda reads like they're out of ideas, but like...it's a good concept

ah so the stuff at the beginning was them showing their guilt

I like how he just says "them's the breaks"

yeah like Dean is ever gonna believe he's innocent

"dog food" oh they so desperately wanna say dog shit

"they want to be judged" echoes Dean

SAM IS TALKING COMPLETELY OUT OF HIS ASS

HE'S GETTING HIM OUT OF HIS GUILT COMPLEX OH THANK GOD FINALLY

"that it just...blows"

no one, including Dean, ever questions it, so the grief stews

oh

he does actually have some way with words

Dean please tell the truth

mate I get the impulse but still

dammit

ahaha Temporary but Long Temporary

"make sure it's a sharp piece" lmaoo

man I miss Jo

ah here we go

sam: u h

JOOOO

"you deserve better" on both ends

Dean Eldest Daughter Syndrome

"hunters are never kids, I never was"

he does Internalize things

that's why we kin

90% crap

"i get rid of that what then" "you really wanna die not knowing" HOLY SHIT

HOLYSHIT OH MY GOD OH MYGOD

ah the gas stove

"he's making me do this" oH NO

"just kind of faded...maybe a little bit happier"

hell was Sam's slate? huh

"I kind of feel good, Dean" I am glad he's happy, I don't know if I agree with the message

1. SAMMM. Dean was acting off the shits, so he had to step up and exasperatedly handle everything, and piece stuff together. Like mans is actually quite smart and quite resourceful when he has to be, and it's nice seeing that. It's also fun FINALLY seeing him lighthearted again, even if I don't like how.

2. Dean's guilt complex. Man internalizes a lot of things, and while they BARELY make sense(thin veneer, easily cracked) he hides it enough so that no one asks(and he represses so he certainly doesn't), and he can continue feeling guilty. Now here's the thing. He feels guilty, Sam doesn't, the middle ground is where they should be(taking responsibility) and they like...never do it.

3. monster of the week. No but having monsters switch to grey instead of black and white, and having Dean comment on it is SO good, because he's like...that Masculine Parody/Ideal depending on who's writing him, and like he was written to be the hero. any gray was always overridden by that. But with kripke gone, they start actually doing grey, and there's nothing simple anymore. Like I like with how off the shits it got, they still kept the theme of "it's more grey now" but like kinda for real(where Dean and Osiris said the same thing). ALSO, I think it would be useful as a scale back. I know they'll not do it because EVEN BIGGER DBZ LAZER is fun, but I think having more monsters of the week by choice and not "oh god we have runtime" would be really good, because that's where this storyline SHINES! it's got a lot of characters, a lot of lore, and a lot of issues to pick through, a monster of the week is WAY more effective than a longer story, and would help the scaling back issue.

4. pontificating about the season/why it's easier to watch. Like is this season as good/vibey? probably not really, but honestly I can actually stand watching it. Like it's very cringe in places but also, it doesn't hurt me or make me feel uncomfortable as kripke stuff does. It matches the vibe of "after work/school show" perfectly for what it is.

5. the vibes/Osiris. I like the idea of osiris and going to the bars, and the courtroom and the RED! SAND!! I got that one. But I'd also like to say that Dean saying the SAME thing that osiris said was like...he's not villainized, but I think they're trying to make him slowly grow as a character. It's like sympathy/he sucks kinda/we like him for him a sa character and I think that was really neat.

also barkeep lady pretty holy hell

6. it felt a little bit like excusing tho. Like if Sam is the good one, then it felt like excusing them of the harm they cause people. I want them to change their behavior! not beat themselves up over it or think it's fine cuz he went to hell because of it!

I'm so glad Sam is happy again but N O

7. J O. the "no autonomy, he's making me do this," the being able to see through things(and no longer hungering for something that she doesn't really know) (like...she wants SOMETHING, has it crawling under her skin but doesn't know what, and that's gone when she's dead) and that whole thing where she asked Dean if he wanted to die as a persona. Oh my god.

8. Dean persona. Yeah the whole thing where he had to convince himself to be a womanizer, the "I"m 90% crap line" OH MY GODD THAT HIT. That man is also a persona. maybe a commentary on american masculinity in general, maybe not. Also, eldest daughter syndrome, he internalizes everything and everything is his responsibility("I didn't get a childhood")

I feel like you can also make an argument how trauma makes you the extreme of something(uncaring for smol sam, internalizing for Eldest Dean), and it breaks your ability to do what you need to(empathetically do your fucking job and not be pieces of shit).

I see why this show was so popular amongst mentally ill people(myself included) holy christ

#pawswatchesspn #7X4 Defending Your Life #tbh once I realized that Dean was tired because he'd gone out and secretly killed someone #I knew that someone was actually paying attention behind the scenes #I can't wait to watch this one again holy FIUCK IT WAS GOOD #I feel much better #also I have found out that Adam Glass's later episodes were Not Great #but based on the Dean they're going for now #This makes sense in context and while I don't like the message there are parts of this episode I really like #some of those fucking lines GOT me

[carlyserrano]

[ GEORGINA AMOROS, SHE/HER, CISFEMALE ]  —  [ CARLOTA “CARLY” SERRANO ]  is a child of  [ HYPNOS ]  with the power of  [ SLEEP MANIPULATION AND INDUCEMENT ] .  they were born in  [ 1998 ]  and have been in nemean lion since  [ 2016 ] .  with the change, they  [ ARE TRAINING IN ]  the  [ STANDARD ]  role which makes sense since they’re usually  [ HAVING AN EXISTENTIAL CRISIS AND NAPPING ] .  if you’d like to meet them try the [ SUN ]  building .  —  kati / she & her / est / 18+

links: stats / pinterest . 

background

carly spent most of her life knowing this : her mother died of sadness. it must be a terrible thing, to be a mortal that loves a god that deeply. so much that not being able to be with them tears you apart. 

she doesn’t really remember her mother, she was only three years old when she took her own life, but carly still wishes she could have done something, that she could have been enough to make her happy – or at least to take away that overwhelming sadness. 

as a result, carly was raised by her mortal grandparents. this accounts for some of carly’s old-fashioned taste in film, music and even fashion, raised by guardians fifty years her senior. 

carly loved stories. whether her nose was stuck in a book or she was daydreaming herself, her mind was always exploring fantastical possibilities. sometimes daydreaming would take a step further into actual dreaming, which was something teachers started to struggle with in class. prone to fits of sleeping – which would be diagnosed as narcolepsy by her teachers – it became problematic. it was very difficult, pretty much impossible to wake her if she didn’t want to be woken up. as her powers grew, people around her would be prone to sleeping as well, but she didn’t understand how she was doing it or what exactly triggered it.

on carly’s thirteenth birthday, her grandparents sat her down to have “the talk” – they told her about her father’s identity and the true story behind what happened with her mother, finally thinking she was old enough to understand. it devastated her, how truly sad things had been for her mother and the circumstances surrounding her life. she honestly just wanted to be NORMAL. when her grandparents brought up nemean lion and suggested sending her there, carly refused. only thirteen, she didn’t want to travel to a new country and leave behind her grandparents. the changed scared her and she still held out hope of living a somewhere ‘normal’ life. she was legit just thirteen and scared to travel overseas and leave home...but with some new added trauma, too. 

but things started to get worse from her going forward. children of hypnos are extremely powerful and carly didn’t know how to control any of the things that she was going through. her sleep patterns as a teenager became erratic, insomnia for days on end and then the inverse. after carly slept for a week straight, her grandparents felt like they had no choice. they couldn’t care for her and weren’t properly equipped to handle what she was going through, and when carly was seventeen, she had no choice but to pack her things and move to america. 

despite missing her grandparents terribly, carly wanted to make the most of a bad situation. mentors at nemean lion taught her about her powers and more about how to use them – her ability to alter someone’s consciousness with a snap of her fingers. slowly, she started to become more confident in powers that she’d never thought she would be able to control. carly is the sort of person who tries desperately hard to make others happy, to look after them, and she considered switching to the hero track when she had a better handle on things, but she never got that far. 

all of these people telling her how gifted she was definitely added to her confidence, but maybe...overdid it a little for a girl who had never felt special before, for someone that felt like an outsider and now was very much an insider with a lot of friends and like, the ability to have a social life now that she could maintain a normal sleep schedule. she really started to envision herself as this bold hero. 

i’m having trouble putting this articulately and i keep rewriting this so i’ll just present this part. messily. naive, romantic carly falls for a fuckboy > loses her virginity then he totally ditches her like there was never anything between them > she’s pissed off and hurt so they get into a fight in the middle of the training room > she snaps her fingers to get him to shut up while her emotions are at an all time high and...he ends up in the infirmary in a coma. that was enough to teach her that her powers were not a good thing.

not only did she land the reputation of being the-person-most-butthurt-from-being-ghosted-ever but she also realized that her powers are STILL growing. she never thought she’d be capable of doing something like that, and she doesn’t know her own limits, and the realization scares her. she doesn’t feel like she’s capable of controlling her own emotions under pressure and she loses the confidence that she’s built – remaining in the standard track for the next two years or so. 

homeboy likely did wake up from the coma as a result of NL having the best healers in the world but it took like some months, like he got his shit ROCKED. 

so, that’s kind of in the past for her now, though it’s something she still struggles with, not knowing her own strength and being scared of letting her emotions get the best of her again. she now rarely uses her powers and is a bit scared of her own self, kind of just floating by in the standard track and only thinking of the hero track in like, her wildest daydreams. she just doesn’t really trust herself and doesn’t even know the full extent of her abilities, especially because it’s possible that as a child of hypnos she’s probably still developing more over time. 

personality

FAIR: carly tends to stick to her morals, a distinct sense of what’s right and wrong. this can have some gray areas on the godly world, but she sees good guys and bad guys. due to her diplomatic world view, she’s pretty good at looking at a situation objectively and treats people and situations with fairness, apt to try to be the peacemaker in a friend group or during a disagreement. she also thinks that everyone inherently wants to be good and do good, so she’s inclined to give them the benefit of the doubt and second chances going forward. 

SOCIABLE: extroverted and loves being around people, once you get started on a conversation with her, she could go for hours. definitely not one to isolate herself, she’s happiest when hanging out with friends or at social gatherings, doing things with other people. if she is awake, she is probably either reading or talking to someone and i’m sure her friends think she could learn to shut up sometimes but she can’t help but share her every thought, really lacks a filter. 

LOVING: carly will freely give her whole heart to people, i think ! she’s not afraid to put her heart on her sleeve for people and she honestly puts a lot of her own value in the happiness of others / needing to make others happy, so she’s pretty selfless about wanting to show great love and care for the people in her life. i think of carly as a pretty big-hearted person who is not afraid to put herself out there and say how she feels about someone or something and she will show great affection for her friends, who she considers family. 

i suppose some people could feel smothered by her at times but truly her heart is just so full

NAIVE: often thinks what you see is what you get with people, which...rarely the case. but she’s just so inclined to believe in the goodness of people and give second chances that she can sometimes get in over her head. the fact that she sees things in such black and white can be hard for her, because she’s seen her powers do bad things and she’s inclined to believe that she herself might be bad, or that those powers are bad, and she refrains from using them. essentially, she still has so much to learn. 

STUBBORN: once she gets an idea in her head, it is really hard to change carly’s mind or get her to waver on it. she can be a bit infuriating in an argument because of this, and this also tends to get her to believe that her very first judgement of people is correct. very firm in her ideas once she has her mind made up, to a fault. 

ANXIOUS: literally has anxiety but tends to get really nervous about being liked or doing things wrong, overthinking the small stuff. and the big stuff, like her powers. when she gets overwhelmed, however, her favorite escape mechanism is simply to go take a nap and then she’ll deal with it when she wakes up. essentially prone to nervousness, which is why she can sometimes overcompensate by talking a lot or going to great lengths to make sure someone likes her or to make sure that person knows she likes them. 

headcanons

honestly is so fulfilled by reading like, she’s the sort of person to get really attached to characters in books and feel like they are her best friends ! so, she gets a lot out of stories and spends a lot of her alone time a ) reading or b ) journaling/scrapbooking.

is a really meticulous record keeper ! she keeps track of her days and is probably the one snapping photos when hanging out and she keeps scrapbooks over the years at NL and beyond, has the most fun collection of colored paper on her shelf that you’ve ever seen. 

big angel energy ? i think. she doesn’t really partake in drinking or smoking ( though she’ll have like, a glass of wine during dinner or before bed, she really likes white wines bc she basic ) and do be wearing her heart on her sleeve, a very trustworthy person, i would call her dependable in situations though she’s too naive to be your mom friend because her advice definitely does not come from wisdom – she can be a bit of a ditz/airhead, actually. 

if she sees something shiny and pretty in nature, she will keep it. so, that means she’s got flowers pressed between books, pretty rocks lining her windowsill, and some colorful leaves probably crumpled up in the bottom of her backpack. just loves collecting STUFF. 

lots of her clothing is either vintage/thrifted or sweatpants/sweatsuits. generally she will go for comfort first when picking out something to wear. 

favorite ice cream is cookie dough and she could eat it all day.

takes a nap every day i feel like most of her friends know they probably can’t reach her between like 3pm-6pm because she is having her little nap. 

i might give her another power at some point idk i read on the hypnos wiki that his children are mad powerful and sometimes develop additional abilities later in life so who knows but prob something cute with dreams idk

wanted connections

gal pals, girl besties, girl squad ?? i just think that women, essentially, and i feel like the vibes of movie nights and sleepovers together and painting each others nails and gossiping late into the night would be super wholesome and would make me feel at peace in my soul and such. 

i also want like a brooke to her haley james !!! sort of. i want this vibe, where carly is 🌼👼🧸 and ur muse is kinda 💃🍷💋

also gal pals in the way that they kiss sometimes but it’s not serious or is it !!! show ur friends u love them by kissing them on the mouth !!!

that boy she put into a coma. idk if your character fits sort of that player archtype and would be kind of a dick / would ghost a girl after sex then maybe this is for you !! if you’d be down to have your character have been in a coma for like 2 months a couple years ago. she feels so so bad about it though.

an ex? probably on good terms so we can talk about why things didn’t work out but honestly break my heart and fuck me up because it probably would have been like, her first love and there’s still a bit of a soft spot even if it’s not the same i’m sure she just wants them to be so happy ! maybe she’s trying to like, set them up with one of her friends and it’s weird. 

married couple friends. you know, that best friend she has where they kind of bicker like a married couple and they’re both really stubborn but there’s a lot of love and mutual respect there. 

a mentor or something? maybe someone in the hero track that sees how much she’s struggling with her powers and puts in the extra work to help her train a little. she says she doesn’t care about being a hero but maybe they can see right through her a little bit. 

someone she can actually help. i’d love a way for her to realize she can use her powers for good a little bit! maybe if your char suffers from insomnia, bad dreams, something in their trauma makes it hard for them to have a regular sleep schedule...she feels inclined to help them a little bit? this would take time and some build up because she’s not really comfortable using her powers, but i’d love a storyline where she learns how she can use this power positively like that and she helps someone sleep a little better. 

yearning. i don’t know <3 carly can have a little crush on someone who doesn’t give a fuck about her. i feel like she’s the type to have little crushes on everyone she’s prob a little in love w all her friends. 

old friendships. maybe something that fizzled out after the incident a couple years ago, like maybe they were close before but they were really pissed at her for what she did and the two of them were just never able to make up afterwards, maybe they were pals with the guy that she hurt !! 

bad influence? she’s so LAWFUL and GOOD, i’d love for someone to help her see the grey areas a little bit and crack her out of her shell or something, just kind of soft. in a healthy way, maybe they bring out the best in each other but also maybe one day it gets taken too far ! 

#nlintro #* ☁️⠀ / ⠀ 𝙁𝙄𝙇𝙀𝘿 𝙐𝙉𝘿𝙀𝙍 ⠀ ﹕ ⠀ ❪ ⠀ intro. ⠀ ❫ #suicide mention tw

[terramythos]

TerraMythos 2021 Reading Challenge - Book 4 of 26

Title: Educated (2018)

Author: Tara Westover

Genre/Tags: Nonfiction, Creative Nonfiction, Memoir, Autobiography, First-Person

Rating: 8/10

Date Began: 1/21/2021

Date Finished: 1/28/2021

Tara Westover was born into an isolated, fundamentalist, conservative, anti-Government family in rural Idaho. She lived a life of neglect and abuse, never going to the doctor and never receiving a formal education, while being forced into unsafe and life threatening working conditions. When one of her older brothers became violently abusive, no one stopped him.

However, things began to change when Tara self-studied the ACT and scored high enough to be admitted to college. At age seventeen, she stepped into a classroom for the first time, and soon found just how little she knew about the world at large. Westover's Educated is a deep dive into her experiences growing up, her emotional struggles with an abusive family, and her road to recovery.

To admit uncertainty is to admit to weakness, to powerlessness, and to believe in yourself despite both. It is a frailty, but in this frailty there is a strength: the conviction to live in your own mind, not someone else’s. I have often wondered if the most powerful words I wrote that night came not from anger or rage, but from doubt: I don’t know. I just don’t know. 

Not knowing for certain, but refusing to give way to those who claim certainty, was a privilege I had never allowed myself. My life was narrated for me by others. Their voices were forceful, emphatic, absolute. It had never occurred to me that my voice might be as strong as theirs. 

Full review and content warning(s) under the cut.

Content warnings for the book: Graphic depictions of childhood neglect and domestic abuse. Graphic depictions of severe, traumatic injury. Derogatory use of racial slurs. Racism, misogyny, and antisemitism are discussed. Somewhat graphic animal death.  

I don't have a lot of experience with nonfiction outside an academic setting, so writing a review about a nonfiction book, even one that's basically a story, is challenging for me. I've written and rewritten my Educated review a few times and none of them have felt right. So I'm going to keep things as short and simple as I can.

I've got complicated feelings about memoirs. Autobiographical works can be fascinating to read! But since I don't care about the personal lives of celebrities or politicians, most of the genre is dead to me. Memoirs like Educated are much more interesting; stories about ordinary people living through extraordinary circumstances. But there have been enough bad actors with this type of book (like Three Cups of Tea or A Million Little Pieces) that I'm always a little skeptical. So I approached Educated with a cautious yet open mind.

Educated is a thought-provoking memoir for a number of reasons, as it explores both the dynamics of familial abuse and the importance of receiving an education. Westover clearly experienced profound trauma as a kid. Apart from multiple disturbing injuries, she also suffered physical and emotional abuse, medical neglect, and a total lack of typical social and academic education, all of which hindered her ability to function as a normal adult. Despite this, she's managed to accomplish a lot, especially in terms of formal education, which her memoir details.

However, I think most official descriptions for the book do it a disservice. Yes, Westover was born to survivalist parents, and yes, she did not enter a classroom until seventeen. On a surface level the book is about her journey through education. But as Westover states, most of that education was social and emotional. A lot of the book actually focuses on her relationship with her family, and coming to terms with the abuse and residual emotional damage from her childhood.

As a survivor, I really identified with Westover's difficult journey with the abuse she suffered. While my own story is not as extreme, I was also abused as a child by family members. My father witnessed it happen and refused to intervene, gaslighting me and my mother + sister the entire time. There is so much irrationality and manipulation in a situation like that, and reading about her parents' denial that her brother Shawn was ever abusive struck very close to home. Like Westover, it took me a long time-- well into adulthood-- to finally establish boundaries and cut my father out of my life. Her emotional struggle and recovery are especially poignant to someone who knows on some level what it's like.

The academic portion of the book is also interesting. Westover's shock, frustration, and sometimes ostracization for not knowing certain things is just fascinating. It floored me that she had no knowledge of the Holocaust or Civil Rights Movement until college. While I have plenty of criticism for the US education system, it's better than starting with absolutely nothing. Educated made me realize just how much of my accessibility to formal education I've taken for granted.

I admit I actually finished the book a little skeptical, because there were some details that seemed weird or not adequately explained. Memoirs and other works of creative nonfiction inhabit a gray area in terms of truth. On one hand, they have to be entertaining to read about. But on the other, reality isn't always entertaining-- so embellishment does happen. One also has to consider how unreliable human memory can be, which blurs the line between fact and fiction further. 

On previous versions of this review I obsessed over financials, or how people recovered from injuries, and so on. Honestly, though, I'm not sure how much the small details matter in a story like this. Westover acknowledges several times where she remembers things differently than others. Memory, and how it changes with time and context, is a central theme of the book. I'll never know Westover's full story because I'm not her. 

But even if only half her story is 100% factually true-- and I think it’s way more than that-- it's still super interesting and discusses some very important topics. Westover comes off as genuine, and she describes her struggles in a very believable way, often going into detail that I'm not sure someone would even think to make up. I think it's nice she doesn't use her achievements as a form of self-aggrandizement. And while Westover accomplished some amazing things considering her background, the book also doesn't come off as a preachy bootstraps narrative. Maybe in five years there will be a huge scandal over this book, but as of now I'm willing to believe it for the most part. 

Educated gets an 8 because while I found it fascinating, it wasn't a life changing piece of work to me. A lot of people feel more strongly about it. Nonfiction also doesn't scratch the same itch for me as, say, really good spec fic. But I'm glad I read it, and I think it's a good thing to read outside one's comfort zone sometimes.  

#8/10 #taylor reads #2021 reading challenge

[ramblings-of-a-mad-cat]

Oh, I will be the first to admit that messing with people's memories is highly questionable at best, and the Moonlaces know that. They spent ages agonizing over the decision, going back and forth over it all and trying to figure out if there was any other conceivable way. But they wanted to give little Calliope as much protection as they possibly could, and the best way to do that was to make sure no one could trace her back to them, and small children don't exactly excel at keeping secrets. So, even though it tore them up inside, they came to the conclusion that it was for the best that she not remember them, at least not until after the war.

Talia ended up being the one who worked the magic. It just so happened that in the course of her work in her private cursebreaking firm (which focuses on cursed objects and people, and involves no raiding of tombs) she had come across rather a few memory spells and through figuring out how to unravel them had gained a unique understanding of how they worked. She knew the subtle difference between erasing and suppressing a memory, and how best to make it retrievable at a later date without harming the person in question.

However, this? Making Calliope forget everything she'd ever known in preparation for sending her away? This was extremely emotionally stressful for Talia. In many ways she was more Calliope's mother than their shared mother was. Mr.&Mrs. Moonlace, while loving parents, had always been very busy people, working Ministry jobs (that I've never specified lol) and so whenever she was available to Talia ended up handling Calliope's day-to-day care. If Talia wasn't able to watch her Calliope was with their brother and his boyfriend/fiance/husband/whatever label they were using that week. (I'll talk about them in another ask because they're fun) So, yeah, the older siblings had essentially split custody of Calliope most of her life, they were the ones who were raising this little girl for the most part. They were the ones most heartbroken over this turn of events. And in turn those extreme emotions effected the magic. That wish Talia was holding in her heart that she didn't have to do this, that Calliope could have kept her memory, influenced the spell and, unbeknownst to Talia, it was incomplete. Calliope would always have vague memories of her birthfamily, and of just how loved she was. And those memories would only unobscure themselves more over time. Never completely, it would never break on it's own, but still.

The Moonlaces had always intended to find her after the war, to make themselves known and restore her memory. If she was happy with her muggle parents they weren't going to take her away, but they intended to be a part of her life again in whatever way they could. Unfortunately, by the time the war ended and it was safe that young muggle couple had divorced and moved, and they had no way of knowing where they had gone, or which parent Calliope had gone with, leaving the poor Moonlace family utterly heartbroken once again. They could only hope that Calliope would reenter the wizarding world on her own one day, and that by chance they'd meet again.

I'll likewise admit that there are justifiable situations when it comes to the use of memory charms. There's obliviating muggles to protect the secrecy of the wizarding world, and...yeah, that's about it. Even that is a bit of a gray area, especially if they realize what you're about to do and express opposition to it. I guess you could also argue that it's okay, if a person is say, blackmailing you with private information, to respond with the ultimate power move and erase said information (and nothing else) from their mind. Basically what Talbott wanted to do to Merula. Sure, you could make a case for that...but I don't know, I'm still not sure about it. In this case? Sorry, I'm still gonna say I don't approve, even if I'm sure they thought they were doing the right thing. It's the inverse of what Hermione did, and yet it's also so much worse because it was parents doing it to their young child.

Oh my god, the more I hear about this, the more it's kind of like the most recent storyline in Doctor Who, for those who have seen it, except with an arguably more noble storyline. The whole idea of a certain figure in the child's life being more important to them than their birth parents is something else I will never not relate to for the personal reasons of my own life shenanigans. Actually, this entire idea reminds me a lot of the Remembrance timeline because this is basically what Luca goes through, being subjected to a memory charm that is incomplete (though in their case, it's because they have inherent resistance to mental magic at the time, long story) but damn if this tale isn't tugging on my heartstrings. I cannot help but love that Talia made a wish and it came true, all through magic. That is actually destroying me with how beautiful it is, how dare you. That said, as much as the tragedy of them losing her in the sea of the muggle world does make me choke up as well...I mean, what did they expect? It's kind of the risk they took.

#Harry Potter Analysis #Harry Potter #Harry Potter: Hogwarts Mystery #Harry Potter OC #Harry Potter Fanfiction

[mbti-notes]

My question here is, am I doing what I should? They keep making me feel bad for trying to defend myself, which I can chalk down to manipulative behavior, but I still have doubts and sometimes think that maybe I am an ass for not sharing harmless things with them. It simply makes me more comfortable having some things private. (5/6)

[con’t: I don’t want to cut ties like this because I’ve only just recently been drawing hard lines, so it’s only fair to give them a chance. They say that they feel guilty for forcing things out of me, but still continue to do it. I’m at a loss here. I also apologize for venting a little, I have nowhere else I can really do it. :P]

It seems that I received all of your messages except the first one, so I don’t know what type you are or whether you mentioned it. It sounds like you are at war. At what point in this war is a “friend” more accurately described as an “enemy”? If you can’t help venting, then you are consumed by negative emotions, which means that you aren’t being very objective. To an outside observer, listening to the negative judgments that you make about someone you call “friend” doesn’t make you look like a very good friend, either. You say that you won’t judge people for their opinions, then you can’t handle honesty, and then you turn around and start laying blame. This is destructive relationship behavior.

Yes, people are entitled to their privacy and should be allowed the freedom to decide how much to disclose or invest of themselves. Yes, there are indeed overbearing people out there who don’t properly respect boundaries. However, there is no way for me to determine the true cause of the conflict due to your lack of objectivity. You display a poor understanding of people and relationships. The way that you talk about friendship is eerily similar to the way that children whine "my parents suck” when they aren’t allowed to do whatever they please. Your friend has not exhibited anything that I would call extreme, unreasonable, manipulative, or abnormal friendship behavior. If what they’re asking you to share is as “harmless” as you say, then why are you so resistant to sharing? Why do you act like sharing is torture?

You expect them to change who they are to meet your need for privacy and you are unwilling to change who you are to meet their need for intimacy. What else is there to say? You have already made a decision about how much you are willing to disclose about yourself. Your friend has their standards for how much self-disclosure they require in a relationship to make it worthwhile for them to continue. You are not able to agree on the standards nor come to a fair compromise, therefore, it is reasonable to conclude that you are not well-suited to be friends. Trying to force each other to change is futile and hurtful when neither party wants to. Why continue to be friends when you’re not able to understand, let alone meet each other’s needs? It seems that you have already reached the point where your resentment makes you hyperfocus on the negative, unable to see the positive, so what is there left to salvage?

Yet you still doubt. Self-doubt is usually a sign that, deep down, you know you’re not yet aligned with the truth. Jung believed that the people close to you are in the best position to reflect back to you the flaws of your personality. A mature person knows this and uses all forms of feedback to dig deeper into the truth of themselves, for the sake of personal growth. An immature person always feels the compulsion to defend against the world’s feedback because they don’t want to see how ugly they really look in the mirror. Habitual defensiveness means that one’s personality flaws never get resolved, so they produce recurring problems in relationship after relationship. If the problem you describe is a recurring one, then you need to seriously consider whether you are creating it. Are you doing the right thing? Technically speaking, you are respecting your comfort level, which is important for maintaining proper relationship boundaries. However, the question is whether your comfort level is actually reasonable - this is the gray area to be examined more closely. 

We often use the word “closed-off” to describe people who are very insecure and defensive. Excessively self-protective, self-preoccupied, or self-centered behavior impedes the development of healthy and fulfilling relationships. People become closed-off for a variety of reasons, but it is considered a personality flaw when it inhibits growth. In some cases, “private”, in actuality, is equal to closed-off, inaccessible, unavailable, distrustful. Many people use “privacy” as a guise or excuse to remain closed-off so that they never have to confront the fears and insecurities that get triggered in a relationship (e.g. fear of intimacy). They don’t “ask” anyone for anything so that they don’t have to give anything, thus keeping themselves psychologically separate and emotionally safe. Being in a relationship with them is like trying to interact with an inanimate object - it feels like a waste of effort at the end of the day.

I’m not interested in taking sides. If it is important to you to improve your relationships and relationship skills, it’s up to you to reflect honestly on whether you are too closed-off for real friendship. The fact that you have no one to vent to is perhaps an indication that you have significant trust issues and/or your relationships are rather shallow. If you prefer superficial relationships that never make you feel anything you don’t want to feel, it’s your right to choose them. If that’s the case, you shouldn’t try to be friends with people who want something more deep and intimate, as it wouldn’t serve anyone involved.

#relationships #self disclosure #intimacy #closed off #openness #ask

[askmyboys]

Circus Mafia

Here’s my latest characters that I am EXTREMELY proud of, god tho it was h e l l trying to finish making them bc i forgot like,, two of them in the process and had to go back- Uhh I guess bc it’s a mafia there’s mentions of death/violence but that’s about it!

I’ll put a keep reading on it just bc its kinda a lengthy post so yeye

| Names: Wallace Gallagher, Chester York, Dewey Bullock, Eric Fletcher, Grant Davenport, and Henry Barton

| Nicknames/Titles: Wally/Gear (The Ringmaster), He hates it but Yorky is a nickname (The Magician), Dew/Dewdrop (The Juggler), Eri/Fletch (The Acrobat), Dave (The Tightrope Walker/The Trapeze Artist), and finally Hen/Bart (The Clown/The Strongman)

| Genders: Wallace goes by He/It, Chester goes by He/Him, Dewey goes by all pronouns, Eric goes by He/They, Grant goes by He/They/It, and Henry also just goes by He/Him

| Ages: Unknown (I am NOT doing all the math that’d probs be involved with these dudes fuck that)

| Heights: Wallace is 6’7”, Chester is 5’9”, Dewey is 5’6”, Eric is 5’3”. Grant is 6ft, and finally Henry is 5’8”

| Hair Colors: Wallace has long stringy hair he usually keeps in a ponytail (his hair is a bubblegum pink color), Chester’s hair is a Cobalt Blue color (his hair is usually in a man bun), Dewey’s hair is a Tiger Orange color (his hair is a curly undercut), Eric’s hair is Black and it’s a short quiff, Grant’s hair is a Dark Brown and slicked back, and finally Henry’s hair is a Tortilla Brown color (His hairstyle is a Pushed Back Long one)

| Eye Colors: Wallace’s eyes are a light pastel pink color (he’s got a slash over his right eye but he seems to still be able to see out of it), Chester’s eyes are a Gunmetal Blue color, Dewey’s eyes are a light pastel green, Eric’s eyes are a hazel color, Grant’s eyes are Dark Brown, and Henry’s eyes are a dull gray color.

| Skin Colors/Body Types: Wallace is tall and lanky as hell p much and he’s pretty pale, Chester’s kinda average p much and he’s more so tan, same goes for Grant actually except he looks a bit more muscular than Chester does, Dewey and Eric are kinda pale as well (Eric being a bit more paler than Dewey) and both of them are chubby, and finally Henry who looks a bit stronger than even Grant (nothing TOO weird ofc) is also pale.

| Appearances: Oh god here we go… Wallace is first up- He’s got the typical Ringmaster outfit EXCEPT his is Pink and White instead of the typical red/black/white you see, even down to his boots are pink (his boots btw kinda go up his legs and they have a heeled part on em), he wears pink leather gloves and has a pink top hat as well! He also has a handlebar mustache (he dyed it to match his hair, got a bit of Wilford Energy dont he? Lmao) he also has a lot of scars on his body (Their most prominent scars are: Wallace’s is over his eye and a bullet wound that got WAY too close to his heart, Chester’s scarring is around his neck, his chest and ESPECIALLY his back area, the neck looks like a few cuts but nothing deep enough to be fatal, the chest has some deeper scarring and longer ones, and his back looked like it was caused by a whip

Dewey’s scars are a bit all over the place nothing prominent there, Eric’s scars are the same just sporadic and all over the place but he has a few similar markings to Chester’s on his back (not AS many tho), Grant doesn’t have as many scars surprisingly just a few here and there but they don’t look too serious, and finally Henry has prominent scars over his belly, his back, and his legs they look like a mixture of potentially fatal had they not been looked at and non-fatal)

Chester’s outfit is a white suit vest that has dark blue stripes going down it, he wears a dark blue collared shirt underneath the suit vest and he also has a long black cloak (it has a hood on it but he only puts it on in certain situations), he has dark blue pants that match and he seems to wear combat boots that match said outfit, he also has some silk gloves that match as well, he wears a blue quartz crystal around his neck and he has a circle beard, he also has dark blue claw nails that also has little star designs over them. (he also has a dark blue bow tie!)

Dewey’s outfit is a mint green suit vest with a white collared shirt underneath it, he also has a mint green bow tie and he wears white pants as well and some sneakers with mint green stripes going across them, he wears mint green rose earrings (it was a gift that Chester gave to Eric so the boy could give it to Dewey) and he’s cherished them ever since, he also wears gloves to match (it helps him out when juggling bc ouchie hard items hurt when they smack directly onto his bare hands) he doesn’t have a beard at all he babyfaced.

Eric’s outfit is white collared shirt with dark brown suspenders that are attached to the same colored pants, he also wears a dark brown flat cap (when he’s not performing or doing his job n such) he also has a dark brown bow tie he wears as well and his he wears dark brown sneakers as well he’s also babyfaced like Dewey is, he has a dark brown necklace with the same colored pendant on the end, it isn’t heart shaped but its round and definitely looks like a locket of some kind (he never wears it during performances in fear it’d get lost but he keeps it locked up in a secret box in his room, it was a gift from Dewey)

Grant’s outfit is a black suit jacket with a red collared shirt underneath it, he also has black pants to match said outfit and he has black and red oxford shoes and he also wears a black fedora (he looks more like the leader than Wally does tbh, then again him, Chester, and Henry ALWAYS get mistaken for the boss) he also has a long black tie he wears with the outfit btw! He has a Van Dyke type beard he also wears some rings on his fingers too hence why he looks SO much like the boss.

And finally… Henry’s outfit is well, it took a LOT of convincing but he actually wears a rainbow themed clown outfit, it's MUCH softer lighter colors (p much pastels) At first he 100% hated it but then every time an enemy came around… They laughed at him and ALWAYS underestimated him, it was always hilarious to kick their ass in said outfit, Wallace also told him just imagine his enemies having to explain to someone/their boss that they got their ass kicked by the clown! The CLOWN of all people! And Henry won’t deny, that idea grew on him so he eventually accepted it (the only thing he refused to wear really was the wig that was t o o much) and finally he has a short boxed beard!

| Personalities: Wallace is… EXTREMELY eccentric and unpredictable, there’s no true way to tell how he’s feeling or what mood he’s going to be in, he seems to bounce from mood to mood, feeling to feeling, emotion to emotion! Although it’s VERY rare to see him actually upset or angry (...Keep in mind, I said very rare, but it’s not… an IMPOSSIBLE scenario) he’s usually pretty cheerful, friendly, kind, and caring as can be! He’s a friend to those who won’t backstab him or betray him but a terrifying force to be reckoned with if you double cross him… He’s in a silly goofy mood a lot, but really, if I’m being honest, there definitely seems like there’s something… Unhinged there… Like something is not all together with him, but oh well! No time to unpack anything! If you need a helping hand he’s there to help! Just don’t double cross him and you won’t die! Don’t let his friendly and cute demeanor fool you, if he doesn’t send one of the others after you, then he’ll deal with you himself and honestly? He’s the WORST one to come after you… MUCH worse than the others.

Chester is cocky, confident, and arrogant at times- He’s EXTREMELY prideful in himself and k n o w s he’s all that and MUCH more~ He seems like he only cares for himself and thinks he’s the star and center of everything but oh no… He holds great admiration and respect for Wallace, he adores Dewey and Eric and helps them out a lot, he’s even overprotective of them actually- you mess with them you evoke papa bear and he WILL stomp you to death with his boots- He constantly pesters Grant and Henry, teasing them a LOT here and there, he makes it a game to mess with them as much as he can, heck he loves messing with his actual victims too, he loves to play the mind games and he’s much more sadistic and cruel than you see him with the other members of the circus, if it’s like someone who’s made friends with the others? ...Well he’ll be more tolerable but oh that won’t stop him from scaring them a little here and there but he won’t actually hurt them, it’s more so just him having fun.

Dewey is a sweet, kind, and loving soul- he looks like he couldn’t hurt a fly! But looks can always be deceiving you know… If he ABSOLUTELY needs to he will hurt or kill someone, if he’s ordered too he will do so- He’s actually mostly shy and anxious even around the other members of the circus but he trusts them a LOT more than anyone else, and he looks up to Wallace and Eric, speaking of Eric, he likes Eric a HELLA lot- he trusts them the MOST out of everyone here and you’ll find Dewey spends a lot more time with Eric than anyone else and he seems so much more open with the other, seems like he lets loose a lot more… And another thing to note, toward enemies he doesn’t torment or anything he just injures or kills them as quickly as possible so he’s a LOT more merciful than someone like Wallace or Chester or some of the others would be.

Eric is another sweet, kind, and loving soul- Also looks like he couldn’t hurt a fly but he can and would if he was told too- He doesn’t LIKE hurting or killing folks though at all, he considers himself much more cowardly than Dewey since Dewey seems like he can do it without any issues beforehand… Eric looks up to Dew a LOT just like the other looks up to him, Eric also looks up to Grant a lot as well even though he can be pretty intimidating to approach, he’s got a LOT more anxiety than Dewey seems to have and he doesn’t seem to have a lot of confidence in himself, he thinks he’s cowardly and sometimes it feels like he legit doesn’t even fit in here, why is such a coward like him in with a literal mafia?

He can barely kill/hurt anyone without almost breaking down p much (Wallace kinda knows this so he REALLY tries not to call upon Eric too much, not until they can sort out those issues, or well t r y too anyways)

Grant is hella cold, snarky, and honestly hot headed easily the MOST intimidating looking and speaking one outta the bunch, he hardly ever has a smile on his face and he’s mostly grumpy- hims a n g y lmao, he’s WAY more respectful when around Wallace however seeing as he’s the boss ...Grant is a bit jealous honestly and sometimes he maybe even wishes he could be leader but 1: He k n o w s better and 2: That’d make him extremely ungrateful for all Wally’s done for the others, Grant is surprisingly MUCH more warmer n kinder toward Eric, or well he tries to be but gosh that poor boy just seems so intimidated by him… He feels bad for Eric honestly, wishes the boy had a bit more confidence in himself, Grant tries to help him out but any time he approaches Eric the other seems to get pretty afraid, so he tries to be patient and wait for Eric to come to him, he respects Dewey for helping Eric out and he sees how happy the two are when together, it's a good thing… If anyone could help that boy out, it’s gotta be Dewey.

And finally… Henry, he’s pretty sarcastic, a bit cold and a bit hot headed, not, AS MUCH as Grant but still it does lead them into a lot of physical and verbal altercations with each other even then (They try not to do it around Dewey/Eric solely bc they dont wanna scare em, but also not around Wallace bc they really don’t wanna get in trouble or on his bad side…) Henry along with Grant do share solidarity with one thing! And that is their p u r e hatred for Chester! That’s one thing they have in common at least… He’s WAY more hot headed toward Chester but dear god who isn’t at this point? Toward enemies n such it’s like he’s a completely different man, he takes his jobs/tasks VERY seriously and he’s WAY more calm and collected- more so than Grant could ever be (I’ll just go ahead ALL the boys respect and or look up to Wallace in some way, he practically saved them tbh) I suppose another thing Henry shares in common with Grant and probs everyone at this point is he wishes Eric had more confidence in himself…

| Side Facts: Usually, whether it be by an injured one or even the dead bodies, an item is usually left behind as a warning- For Wallace it’s a bunch of lashings from his bullwhip (I wanna clarify, the ones with lash looking scars, Wallace would NEVER EVER hit them, he’d NEVER fucking hurt any of them which is why if one of the ones with similar scars are around, before he even d a r e s pull out the whip, he tells them to go on back to the tent, he doesn’t want them to see or hear that sound)

Chester MOSTLY leaves red roses behind (since that’s what people throw onto his stage when he’s finished performing), but he’ll leave VARIOUS other kinds of flowers as well (you’ll notice he’s very particular with each flower he leaves behind)

Dewey leaves behind whatever item he had been juggling (for example: a bowling pin, orange, balls, etc)

Even tho Eric isn’t called upon too often for his sake, he actually doesn’t leave anything behind.

Grant leaves nothing behind whatsoever, what he did to the victim alone is WARNING enough.

Henry leaves behind clown noses (he literally puts clown noses on the victims) and if he’s feeling generous enough he leaves some sarcastic little messages behind or just straight up taunting ones.

While they ARE a mafia, like I’ve said the circus part also plays a big role! They DO perform! Their circus moves from place to place, it never does stay in one spot and a BIG thing Wallace wants noted- they don’t include animals in their acts, they’d never put any kind of animal through that sorta stress and are HIGHKEY against Circuses that do use animals bc most times the animals are whipped and abused, so Wallace says none of that here!

They have had some rowdy rude customers like all businesses or events do ...But you know… They aren’t like most either, those customers were mm… I’d say when Wallace offered to have their complaint taken up, let’s just say those so called customers were never seen or heard from again (keep in mind, those weren’t valid complaints, it was basically karen type people so oofy)

Chester has once lured a victim backstage and he has a house of mirrors type situation, he once lured them back and slowly watched them struggle to try and get out of there, sometimes appearing on the mirrors to give them a fright, he’s probably driven some people to insanity with this tbh also, Chester made Wallace a necklace with an Obsidian pendant, Wallace cherishes this and thanks to Chester he knows the crystal symbolizes protection n stuff so that made him cherish it even more.

Their Circus, the tent, etc- I’ll be 100% honest with you, the fucking tent itself is pretty inhuman and fuckin unrealistic, like- SO many fucking things fit under that tent- its almost cartoonish how it works! The tent itself holds literally all their respective areas, from Chester’s stage right down to the area where the trapeze and tightrope acts are performed!

One thing I didn’t mention- Wallace seems to have two sets of fangs (I will say, he’s- he’s not a toon btw I mean, I won’t say if Wally is fully human or not but still) both top and bottom, Chester has cat-like fangs, Dewey/Eric don’t have fangs at all, Grant has some razor sharp teeth, and Henry just has normal lookin’ teeth.

One more thing! I already covered their pronouns up there so here’s their sexualities! Wallace is Pansexual, Chester is Bisexual, Dewey is Panromantic and Asexual, Eric is Gay and Asexual, Grant is more so Questioning rn as is Henry.

#original characters #my ocs #ocs #Circus Mafia #Wallace Gallagher #Chester York #Dewey Bullock #Eric Fletcher #Grant Davenport #Henry Barton #tw violence mentions #tw death mentions