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polarisbibliotheque · 6 months

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Updating by writing you guys this huge post. I mean it, it's really long xD

Heeey-ho!

I know, I know, I couldn't keep my Halloween promise T-T

Tha Halloween gods are now shouting at me "HOW COULD YOU?!"

Die Halloween gods, slowly coming after me - black and white edition

As it has happened before, I'll be posting both Dante and Vergil's part during november. I'm still working on them, so it might take a while. Do apologise.

They will be here, just with a little delay. I do think Halloween should last more than just a few days, so screw it, until Christmas, it's still legal to celebrate Halloween at the Bibliothéque \o/

Now, now, for those who don't like too much talking, I'll be explaining a little bit below why I'm taking so long. Feel free to skip it if you don't want to read it, no worries ;)

(There's a "conclusion and TL;DR for those who don't want to read this whole novel" in pink down there if you want to scroll down to that point!)

As *not* expected, my health took a crazy downturn. I know I say it all the time, but hell, I've no idea what gives this time. I literally stopped everything. I spend most of the day in pain and the rest of it sleeping. That's it.

I have an appointment with my doctor next week, but I'm not too much hopeful. Last exams showed I have two ulcers - which means scarring and bleeding in the stomach - that can be literally anything.

Not gonna lie, I'm pretty worried it can be something worse than I was expecting, although it never even appeared to exist before, but well... My anxiety isn't exactly logic.

Secondly, as you guys might not know, I'm graduated in Law, worked as a lawyer for 5+ years before having a burnout and all those health issues (yeah, yeah, don't do what I've done, all that sort of thing). But something you don't know, and honestly probably only my close family knows and cares about, is that my graduation thesis was "The Conflict of Israel x Palestine and International Law".

I researched it for 3 years before defending my thesis, got a college prize for it, the professor who mentored me made a huge speech on how I proved "we women can do it on academia and research" and that my work was really nice. I'm not saying all this 'cause I'm boasting, I'm just saying I know what I'm talking about (because you know, who has never met a man who thinks their opinion is better than yours "just because" while you have a fucking huge CV on research and graduated with honors on the same matter but, somehow, you can't beat the opinion he just pulls out of his ass?).

All of this to say, I'm devastated by what's going on. This is more than politics to me. This was my thing, you know? I had a dream, stupid ~promising young woman~ dream of doing something with my intelligence to actually help people. To actually stop massacres of happening. I wanted to work at the UN, I wanted to speak with world leaders, to show people how much I can research and how much basic human rights matter so horrid things cannot happen ever again.

When the war broke and the bombings started, I followed the news. And then the news weren't reliable anymore. I started digging to find the truth - and hells, the truth is ugly and bloody. I think that's when all those last shards of dreams came crashing down. I thought I could do something, you know? Actually do something. But in the end, my parents were broke, I had to work to help at home, I kept sending my CV to the UN but I was never enough, and I just wasted my energy and health under the boots of someone who had more power and influence than me to break me and kill my career before it even started.

I felt so horribly powerless. So horribly broken. It seems stupid, but everything that is going on out there fells personal to me, I have history with it. And it broke me. Completely. There isn't a day that goes by that I don't force myself to at least watch the horrible things going on and try to like/share so the algorithm can make it reach other people.

That's all I can do.

You know, I have a lot of Vergil in me. For the things I wrote, I think you all can see I have a thing of "I never want to feel pain again and I want power so no one can never hurt me again" - that's why I think I want to kick his ass every time I see this fucking man being so emotionally constipated and ruthless because of his trauma. It's a way to protect himself, burning every path so he never feels powerless again - and I guess we all HATE to see the parts of our own personalities we hate the most in someone elese

So yeah. I know things took a dark turn on this one, but I decided to be honest with you guys - since I'm owing so many updates: the 2 Halloween fics, Nemesis and Survivor's Blood. I'm not really well currently, and only the gods know how much effort I'm making to keep it together... At least a little bit.

Physically, I'm like V. And I'm not even trying to be funny, every time I see that lil' goth twink I want to yeet him away because, hell, I'm MAD I see myself in him (mind you, I used to be more on Dante's side of the fitness spectre xD) - and not only regarding fitness, but tiredness. Falling apart. It's so... Harrowing. I think that's the word that fits the feeling better.

Mentally, I'm Vergil. I don't want to, I want to beat him with a stick, I want to yell at his face and kick his stupid ass, but damn. I get it. That crippling fear of not wanting to feel powerless again, to have people abuse you? The feeling you're trapped in your own body? The "feelings bring only pain and suffering"? The terrifying dread of discovering you failed at everything even with all your talents and never wanting to admit it? Check all of those. I hate you Vergil, but I get you.

I'm trying, though. I use writing as a coping mechanism and as a way to resolve many things mentally, but the last months have felt SO overwhelming I went back to my paralysed state of not being able to do anything and running away from things that remind me of all THAT.

You guys might be alarmed, but there's no reason to be, though. This is a ~moment~ I'm going through and I just need to sort it all out. I'm starting to get some warning signs of numbness, vivid nightmares of past issues, the paralysis, avoidance - but I've been there before. I just haven't figured out a way to pull myself together and I don't even remember how I did that once, so it might take me some time.

I don't know why, I had some sort of weird ~boost~ while thinking in the shower today, and I might know how to give the small steps to start getting back on track and gaining that momentum I need. This weekend I had to convince my mom to celebrate her birthday 'cause she's my Samwise Gamgee carrying me up Mount Doom and she wasn't in a mood to do so - therefore on monday, I have some things in mind to discuss with her and, hopefully, things will slowly go back to their place.

Conclusion and TL;DR for those who don't want to read this whole novel hahaha

THAT BEING SAID: I'm really sorry I can't deliver everything I wanted to you, guys. I didn't expect life to get so much more fucked up than it already was, but here we are. I just have to get used to the new pace of things, but it might take a while. My output of writing will be slow, but hey, after I can get out of that paralysis phase, I'll probably be writing more and posting more - 'cause I really, really love this. With all my heart.

(also, if you people see me active on my drawing thing, posting a bunch of things, it's 'cause I'm finally getting to look at all the art I've done but never posted and actually updating it and putting my art blog to some use I haven't in a while - I won't be creating new stuff. All old stuff I procrastinated as HELL and those will be some of my small steps to get out of this rut)

Now, as a last thing, I intend to use a video from a guy I always watch on youtube as some sort of guiding light in these trying times hahahaha but seriously, he has some really sound advice and he is so down to earth. Maybe someone who's going through some fucked up times can use his advice as well and unfuck their life too :)

youtube

That's it. I felt like I needed some raw honesty today. Like I said, small steps. This is part of it hahahaha

I hope you guys understand. There's nothing I love more than writing, creating something for people - and all of this, everyone I met here and every single person that uses their time, which is the most precious thing we have, to read something I wrote gives me the greatest gift I can be given. You guys have no idea how much I appreciate you and how much I don't want to disappoint you.

So thank you. I will work slowly and I will need some time to get my shit together, but I'll always be here. I'll update everything I need and won't leave you hanging but you know... It's like Dracula Daily. It starts in April and finishes by the end of the year, taking time to put the letters together.

Aaaaand, if you read Lord of the Rings, the whole adventure takes a year. We are very much conditioned to be given content constantly to keep algorithms happy, but I do have a view that humans (and art for that matter) can't keep up with being content.

Zygmunt Bauman said we live in liquid times, and made the theory that everything is liquid nowadays (for people who like sociology and philosophy, I highly recommend his books, I love him with all my heart), so we're not really used to things that are a little more... Constant. Earthy, perhaps. Slow, stable, never leaving.

I try my best to be like that, not like a liquid, inconstant, fleeting presence. I want the things I do to be part of something that will stay, and I like being someone that stays - and doesn't just flow away because everything has to be fast and ever moving nowadays. The Bibliothéque is to be like that, I think, a place that no matter what, you can come back after ten months and you'll still find me here, drinking some tea and writing stuff. And I'll be happy to see you again, for as much as you can or would like to stay :)

kinda like Dante in his lil' shop :')

That's it. Thank you for reading me mumbling nonsensically in order to tell you I will keep updating my fanfiction, even if at a slow pace HAHAHAHAHAHA

Hope you guys have a fine weekend and a good next week! I'll be always lurking around, but the creation process will be a bit slow.

Will still be here to mumble randomly about DMC and scream random things in the void though :D

*me getting ready to tackle life for the next months, going like "still heeeeeeeeere bitch!!"*

***

And I'd like to add that I searched for "Obi Wan" on GIFs to find some sassy defying mood too add here and one of the first hits was this:

I'll leave you guys on this note 'cause I'm still wheezing about it, it's so friggin' on point I can't EVEN

#polaris speaks #update #life update #writing update #personal post #personal rant #ranting #rant post #and I meant it to be a little post going like 'haha it's gonna take a while to update'#but decided to be honest #I always think it's good when people I admire admit going through tough times or trauma or being broke or just overall not good #it makes me be less harsh on myself regarding everything I guess #so I thought this vulnerability from my part could do someone some good as it does for me when other people are vulnerable #I mean I'm hating it #seriously considering deleting this post once it goes live #don't know if I'm gonna do that but for now #I hope it helps someone #I really do #(don't worry Vergil is judging me from the distance the man would probably beat the shit out of me or hug me no in betweens with him)#Youtube

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moonwalker-kenni · 5 months

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Ugh it's so hard when I feel like I've lost all control over my thoughts when it comes to him. I feel completely overcome with grief and love for him sometimes (like now). I can see myself completely losing it like the people who just run and break through security just to be close to him, when I really don't want to be like that. I just want to be normal about him ;_;. At least, I would want to be normal about him in his presence so that I wouldn't scare him away.

Of course he's not with us anymore so this concern is pointless. I just wish I knew what this was called. "Fanaticism"seems so broad and sort of dismissive of the experience. Fanatics are often waved off as "crazy" and invalid. And somehow there's this sense that we are actively choosing to put someone on a pedestal that is unwarranted, because we are all human, right?

Maybe that's the case for some of us. But it's not like that for me. Not really elective. I mean maybe it is in a way? I wanted to say similar to addiction but I don't know anything about addiction, so I would just be guessing. I also don't mean to suggest that addiction is a choice. Sure there are decisions to be made but I think they are decisions that people who don't struggle with addiction don't have to make. And thus we have no right to speak on it really.

Anyway. My love and adoration for this beautiful person is overwhelming. I just want to make him happy the way he has made me happy - even though I know it's not possible and it probably wasn't possible even when he was still here.

I keep trying to tell myself that he was just a man. Just a man, just a man. But the thought of being close to him - even though it never happened - just comforts me so much and completely quiets my overly active nervous system. He seemed so warm and soft and caring and safe. And beautiful. Gosh, his beauty was unmatched. Even with what some would perceive as flaws. The blemishes just made him more uniquely beautiful.

I often want to protect him, as though he were a fragile statue that could be damaged by the harshness of the real world, where he was not safe. Where nothing was safe.

It's so strange, because I can see how that could be a prison. Having to live up to the unrealistic expectations and ideas that people had of you. Knowing that people are that influenced simply by your existence. It's not fair at all. I would never have wanted him to feel hindered by me in any way. He would probably just want to be regarded as a normal person. He deserved as much.

I would never want to disturb his private moments. His peace. The moment I referred to at the beginning of this rambling was specific to my feelings of loss, I think. If he were here, I think I would be a little less unhinged. Still incredibly protective of him. but not so overwhelmed with emotion that I would violate his sense of safety and privacy. Though I would certainly want him to let me love him. To let me take care of him. I would know and accept my place though as a distant supporter, even with the depths of my desires.

If he were here, I would want him to know that I loved him no matter what, and that I would want him to be free.

I would just want to be the cushion for him against the horrid ugliness of the world the same way he was for me. And for him to feel as precious and treasured as he was and still is. I think back to how tenderly he cradled and kissed people and things that he cared about. And I just want to do the same to him.

He was such a bright spot and I am so heartbroken that he's not here anymore. And so heartbroken that there's so much negative noise about him. I just need him to be here, alive and well and safe and appreciated. The way he should be. I'm so tired of crying and hurting so much about the fact that he's not.

I love you, Michael. And I hope you know peace wherever you are. And that you know that if for some reason you still don't know peace, I feel the impulse to dig through everything to pull you out of the chaos, the flames - anything. I want to pull you into the safety and warmth of the light you have brought to my life. My sweet, beautiful angel ❤️💕.

#kenni rambling #kenni is unhinged #please no discourse #im just getting out my feelings and processing some things #i know this is not healthy #but it's how i feel #please don't make fun of me.

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abyssalcreator21 · 2 years

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Pandemic Thoughts#134

Monday evening. Struggling what to watch within this time. Well, I am trying to get an inspiration from several writing movies but then somehow, it doesn't struck to me to watch but instead other things boggles me mostly about our thesis paper.

Our thesis is an quantitative research. Our group focuses on how the health information communication of the local government of Cagayan De Oro and how it influences the public decision of getting the vaccine. Well, a lot of factors to be considered in this research is what specific communication contents we would like to focus with our research? Is it the cases reports, the vaccination schedules, or the weekly briefing of the city information office regarding COVID-19 response? Or it will focus on all these contents by just simply relying on our future respondents perspectives on how they interpreted the information they had read on the page? A lot of factors that play in my mind and sometimes I wished I had more time in just absorbing reliant information on how to connect the dots. I guess having a creative mind sometimes need to be adjusted when thinking of logical things.

If I were to assess myself, I am more of the right brain person. Being logical, coming up with deductions, and more skills related to the left side of the brain isn't the best set skill I have develop so far. I am more into the world of just creating fine art of literature someday. One or two novels that I can write pertaining to what I feel or an issue that I wanted to address on. But then, nothing seems to interest me in these moments. I am a dull in my head right now being eaten by the pressure of graduating next year and looking for my first job. Maybe soon, I'll try to borrow more books to enhance my vocabulary prowess and just let myself to change my mindset into focusing much on improving my craft. As they say, writing is like a journey into the unknown where sometimes you are not certain of where are you going. It is just simply being there in your head and not minding much into the harshness of the reality. Back to my thesis...

It is really hard right now to piece out our paper. Two of my members have babies already and three of them have their own works also. Even me. Mostly resting and somehow feeling dull more often. Our goal is to identify what is the effectiveness of the health information provided by the city government of Cagayan De Oro especially with their CDO COVID-19 Response. It might be challenging to locate who follow the page because one of the concerns also is what is the total number of respondents are we targeting or are we sure that there are lot of people in Barangay Carmen that follows the FB page. A challenging feat to be done in four months and that is why I would want to consult with our paper to have a clearer goal and distinction to what we shall do and improve.

But then one of the struggles I also face is within myself. Sometimes, knowing that I have less confidence with my skills, it hinders me to push forward with what shall I do next. It is like I'm always stuck in the middle and most of the time, I get pressured when I am in the middle of thinking something. I always wanted for the thesis paper to have a smooth progression and sometimes having your mind stuck in another universe makes it a challenge to come up with a connection of what will happen next. What will happen to our thesis paper? Maybe I should trust myself even more right now that everything will run into the right place. Our paper will be published and everything will work out. It will work out even though I may experience having breakdowns most of the time.

#creative writing

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jiangwanyinscatmom · 3 years

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i'm so TIRED of people with vivid imaginations trying to convince every1 the things their brains came up with happened in MDZS, just saw some1 say about lan mom "SOMETHING went down between a creepy teacher and their mother. She gets forced into marriage with a man she doesn’t love and IMPRISONED before eventually committing suicide/ falling sick and dying" like WHERE? the only piece of information was LXC saying "i have no idea WTF happened" so he doesn't know, MXTX doesn't know but you do???

Some of this is a shock for my system so early in the morning... alright... I guess we're gonna go step by step with this just cause people are awful at reading, along with my stance on this particular bit of prevalent discourse.

Since this is greatly misinterpreted for whatever reasons, here is the relevant passage and only one in the text we get concerning the Lan parents. I'm going to add that this is alllll relaid by Lan Xichen and to keep that in mind with what is highlighted.

He spoke slowly, “The reason that my father often practiced secluded meditation was my mother. This place, compared to a place of living… was more like a place of detention.”

Wei WuXian was surprised.

The father of ZeWu-Jun and HanGuang-Jun, QingHeng-Jun, used to be a famous cultivator. He made his name at a young age and had many things waiting for him in the future. However, at the age of twenty, he suddenly backed away and announced his marriage. He had also ceased to care for much of the world. Although it was called secluded meditation, it was much more like retirement. People had come up with many possible reasons, but none of them had been verified.

Lan XiChen bent down amid the clusters of gentians. He gently stroked those thin, tender petals, “When my father was young, when he returned from a night-hunt once, he saw my mother outside of Gusu city.” He smiled, “I heard that it was love at first sight.”

Wei WuXian grinned as well, “The young are often sentimental.”

Lan XiChen continued, “But, the woman did not care for him the same way. In addition, she killed one of my father’s teachers.”

This was beyond imagination. Although Wei WuXian knew that asking too many questions would be very rude, however when he remembered that they had been Lan WangJi’s parents, he felt that he just had to ask. “Why?!”

Lan XiChen, “I do not know. But, I assume that it was something along the lines of ‘grievances’.”

Wei WuXian didn’t ask anymore into this and forced down his curiosity, “And… what happened later?”

“And then,” Lan XiChen explained, “When my father heard of this, of course he was in much pain. But, no matter how he struggled, he still took the woman to his sect in secrecy. Ignoring the objections from his clan, he knelt with her for the Heavens and the Earth without making a sound and told everyone in the clan that she would be his wife for the rest of his life, that whoever wanted to harm her would have to pass through him first.”

Wei WuXian widened his eyes.

Lan XiChen continued, “After the ceremony was completed, my father found a house and locked my mother inside. He found another house and locked himself inside. It was called secluded meditation, but it was in truth to repent.”

He paused before speaking again, “Young Master Wei, can you understand why he did such a thing?”

Wei WuXian answered after a moment of silence, “He could neither forgive the one who killed his teacher nor watch the death of the woman who he loved. He could only marry her to protect her life and force himself not to see her.”

Lan XiChen, “Do you think that this was right?”

Wei WuXian, “I don’t know.”

Lan XiChen looked somewhat lost, “Then, what do you think would be right?”

Wei WuXian, “I don’t know.”

A while later, Lan XiChen whispered, “It could be said that my father did this without a care for anything else. All of the seniors of the clan were enraged, but they had all watched him grow up. They could not do anything except guard this secret, hint to the outside world that the wife of the GusuLan Sect’s sect leader had an unspeakable disease and could not see others. After WangJi and I were born, we were immediately taken away to be cared for by other people. When we grew older, we were brought to Uncle to be taught."

“My shufu… has always had a frank personality to begin with. Because of how my mother caused my father to destroy his own life, he began to hate those who behaved improperly even more. Thus, he poured his heart into teaching WangJi and me. He was especially harsh as well. Every month, we could only see Mother once, inside of this cottage.”

They were two young children, who faced everyday only their harsh uncle, strict teachings, and mountains of books. No matter how tired, they had to straighten their soft backs to be the most outstanding disciples of the clan, the model students in others’ eyes. They could rarely see their closest relatives. They couldn’t fool around in their father’s arms, they couldn’t act spoiled in front of their mother.

But they had clearly done nothing wrong.

Lan XiChen, “Everytime WangJi and I went to see her, she would never complain about how tedious it was being locked inside of here, unable to step out once. She had never asked about our studies, either. She especially liked to tease WangJi, but WangJi, the more you tease him the less willing he is to talk, and the worse of an expression he puts on. He has been like this ever since he was young. However,” he chuckled, “even though WangJi never said it, I knew that every month he was looking forward to the day he could see Mother. He was like this, and I was the same.”

Wei WuXian imagined a young Lan WangJi hugged inside of his mother’s arms, his snowy little cheeks flushed pink. He laughed as well. But before his smile had even melted, Lan XiChen continued, “But one day, Uncle suddenly told us that we would have no need to go any longer."

“Mother was gone.”

Wei WuXian’s voice was soft, “How old was Lan Zhan back then?”

Lan XiChen, “Six.”

He continued, “He was still too young to understand what ‘gone’ means. No matter how much others comforted him, or how much Uncle scolded him, he would continue to come back here every single month, sit down in the hallway, and wait for someone to open the door for him. When he grew older, he understood that Mother would not be coming back, that no one would open the door for him, but he kept on coming here.”

Lan XiChen stood up. His dark eyes looked into Wei WuXian’s, “WangJi has been so stubborn ever since he was young.”

The leaves rustled and the gentian flowers swished alongside the wind, their scent lingering. Wei WuXian’s eyes landed on the wooden hallway of the cottage. He could almost see a small child wearing a forehead ribbon sitting with proper posture in front of the house, waiting quietly for the door to open.

He spoke, “Madam Lan must’ve been a very gentle woman.”

Lan XiChen, “In my memories, Mother had indeed been so. I do not know why she did such a thing back then. And, in truth, I…”

He took a deep breath before confessing, “I do not want to know either.”

After a few moments of silence, Lan XiChen closed his eyes. He took out Liebing. A gust of night wind suddenly sent forth a sobbing note of the xiao. The sound was deep, like a sigh.

Wei WuXian had heard Lan XiChen play Liebing before. Its timbre was just like Lan XiChen himself, as warm and graceful as a breeze and the rain of spring. Yet, now, although his technique was as excellent as ever, the tone evoked a strange mixture of feelings.

The night wind swept by. Lan XiChen’s hair and forehead ribbon were already somewhat disheveled. However, the GusuLan Sect’s sect leader, who had always regarded appearance highly, didn’t pay any attention to them. He only put down Liebing after the song had finished, “Music is forbidden at night in the Cloud Recesses. Today I have overstepped far too many times. Excuse me, Wei gongzi.”

Wei WuXian, “How so? ZeWu-Jun, have you forgotten that the person standing in front of you is the person who has broken the most rules…”

Lan XiChen smiled, “The GusuLan Sect has never revealed these facts about Lan Wangji and myself outside of itself. I should not have told you. Tonight was my sudden urge to unburden myself, a spur of the moment.”

Wei WuXian, “I’m not the kind of person who talks too much. Don’t worry, ZeWu-Jun.”

Lan XiChen, “Regardless, I would assume that WangJi would not hide anything from you anyways.”

Wei WuXian, “If he doesn’t wish to talk about something then I won’t ask.”

Lan XiChen, “But, with WangJi’s personality, how could he say anything if you do not ask? There are some things that even if you ask him he would not say.”

Now that we have the context of the Lan parents laid out the only definitive answer for anything concerning their personal motivations for anything is "I DON'T KNOW". Their secrets and thoughts literally died with them.

And this entire story Lan Xichen told in the end, had nothing to do with his parents. He did not tell Wei Wuxian about them, he was speaking everything unsaid about Lan Wangji's motivations and his love of Wei Wuxian. He does not care why his parents did what they did, but he does for the one that is alive. His brother who he had just had a bit of a veiled conversation about Lan Wangji's pure trust in Wei Wuxian. Who, in Lan Xichen's eyes, had already rejected his brother's love and did not feel the same, mirroring the past of their father's apparent unrequited love. He is saying Lan Wangji is sacrificing his all, unvoiced.

His pressing of if his parent "are right" is him asking Wei Wuxian what he feels about those sacrifices, if he can see the sacrifices Lan Wangji had gone through. At this point he along with Lan Wangji have assumed Wei Wuxian knows and remembers what he had said within the cave. He is telling Wei Wuxian his brother has alway been this way for those he loves regardless of what they may be perceived as by outsiders.

"Today I have overstepped far too many times. Excuse me, Wei gongzi.”"

"I should not have told you. Tonight was my sudden urge to unburden myself, a spur of the moment.”

Meaning, it was not his place to tell this about his brother, but there is no one else that would, and Lan Wangji would never say anything about his feelings again. Lan Xichen is first and foremost worried about where his brother has placed his love, as he knows, regardless of what rumors surround those he loves, his brother will still be forever loyal to them without question if he believes them to be in the right.

Lan Xichen is warning Wei Wuxian he needs to take care in his actions as he approaches Lan Wangji as Xichen is well aware already of how Lan Wangji will go through hell for others he adores. From the start it was never about his parents, as Lan Xichen says, "I do not want to know either,". But what he does want to know is where Wei Wuxian stands with his own feelings towards Lan Wangji or if he is still using his brother as he has thought for years. Leaving Lan Xichen to protect him as best as he can while Lan Wangji stays hurt for others with no happiness for himself.

#mdzs #mo dao zu shi #the Lan parents #It literally does not matter what was between them as they are dead and gone #Lan Wangji is the one left seemingly continuing their tragedy and rumors #the lan parents are a damn metaphore for Lan Wangji's feelings

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kjack89 · 3 years

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11 :)

Me, using a completely innocuous prompt for something super self-indulgent? It’s more likely than you think.

E/R, Modern AU, established relationship. CW for mentions of suicide attempts, suicide ideation, and depression.

For everyone who’s struggling right now.

11. Morning kisses that are exchanged before either person opens their eyes, kissing blindly until their lips meet in a blissful encounter.

Grantaire knew it was morning without opening his eyes, and not just from the faint sunlight he could feel filtering through the blinds to play across his face. He also knew from the fingers he could feel skimming up his side, and the lips pressed against his shoulder. “Mmm,” he murmured, turning over, his eyes still closed, and he reached out automatically.

“Good morning,” Enjolras muttered sleepily as Grantaire drew him close, and Grantaire’s lips curved into a smile, his fingers lightly brushing against the light stubble he could feel along Enjolras’s jaw. He knew if he opened his eyes, he would never see it, since Enjolras’s hair was so light.

But he sure as hell could feel it, and it was as much a revelation that morning as it had been the first time they’d done this, over a year ago now.

His nose brushed against Enjolras’s, and for one brief moment, they breathed the same air before their lips met. As much as Grantaire had always dreamed of hot, passionate kisses exchanged after one of their many fights, nothing could compare to gentle morning kisses.

It was the absolute best way to wake up in the morning. And Grantaire wouldn’t trade it for anything.

He finally opened his eyes, blinking a few times to focus on Enjolras, his smile widening. “There you are,” he murmured, leaning in and kissing him again.

Enjolras returned his kiss for a moment before pulling away, the blanket slipping down to reveal his pale skin, and Grantaire tracked the motion with hungry eyes, already planning on a reprise of the previous night’s activities.

But before he could get too distracted – before all his blood could rush somewhere more south – Enjolras’s brow furrowed, and Grantaire’s smiled faded slightly. “Uh-oh,” he said, his voice low. “That’s never a good sign.”

Enjolras scowled. “What’s not a good sign?” he asked.

“The premature worry wrinkles on your forehead.” Enjolras looked briefly affronted before, with seemingly considerable effort, his expression evened and his worry lines smoothed out. “That’s better,” Grantaire said with a smirk. “So what’s going on?”

“How are you?”

Grantaire blinked, taken aback by the question. “Well, I’m in bed with you, so how do you think?”

For some reason, his answer caused Enjolras’s forehead to crease again. “No, that’s not – I mean, how are you?”

“I was doing a lot better before you asked me that,” Grantaire said, eying Enjolras warily, the warm, contented feeling he’d woken with fading rapidly. “What’s going on?”

Enjolras’s eyes narrowed. “You’re deflecting.”

Grantaire just arched an eyebrow at him. “Pot, meet kettle.”

Enjolras sighed, skimming his fingers up Grantaire’s side again, seemingly more interested in watching the way his pale fingers looked against Grantaire’s darker skin than in meeting Grantaire’s eyes. “I’m worried about you,” he admitted quietly.

“Mmm,” Grantaire murmured, his expression unreadable, and he caught Enjolras’s hand with his own. “Have I done something recently to make you worry?”

Enjolras snorted lightly and gave him a look. “I mean, you always do something to make me worry.”

Grantaire half-smiled. “I am quite gifted in that regard.”

“But in this case, it’s less of what you’ve done and more…”

Enjolras trailed off, and Grantaire propped himself up on his elbow, frowning down at Enjolras. “More what?” he asked.

After worrying his lower lip between his teeth for a moment, Enjolras finally blurted, “You’ve been in a really good mood recently.”

“And that’s a cause for concern.”

Grantaire didn’t pitch it as a question, but Enjolras still shrugged in response. “It could be,” he said quietly.

“What in the world makes you think that?” Grantaire asked, trying not to sound as exasperated as he felt at his good mood rapidly fleeting.

Enjolras met his eyes. “Because it’s happened once before,” he said, harsher than he likely intended, and Grantaire flinched and looked away. “Where you seemed like you were in a very good mood. And instead…”

“Instead I wound up in the hospital on a 72 hour involuntary hold,” Grantaire finished quietly. “Because I tried to kill myself.”

The silence that stretched between them was absolute, and Enjolras swallowed hard as he looked away. “Right,” he said. “And now, with everything going on in the world, I can’t help but worry that…”

He trailed off, but Grantaire knew exactly where he was going. “That because of a pandemic and a looming recession and not having a job for over six months now, my depression has gotten bad again, and I’m hiding it from you,” he said, nodding slowly. “I guess I can’t really fault you for that leap.”

Enjolras cocked his head slightly. “Is it really a leap?”

Grantaire returned his look with one of his own. “What makes you think that it isn't? Other than my preternatural good mood.”

“Because so many people are hurting now,” Enjolras said, his voice low. “So many people who haven’t been through what you’ve been through. So it only stands to reason—”

“Depression doesn’t quite work like that,” Grantaire interrupted, his voice even. “Logic doesn’t account for much here. And I’m in a very different place now than I was back then.” He took Enjolras’s hand again, lacing their fingers together. “I was really lucky, Enj. My attempt didn’t work. And because of that, I got help, pharmaceutical and otherwise.” He raised Enjolras’s hand to his mouth, pressing a kiss to his knuckles. “So, yeah, things are pretty fucking bleak, and I definitely don’t judge anyone who’s struggling right now. But I’m very lucky to not be one of them.”

Though Enjolras nodded, he didn’t quite look convinced, and Grantaire sighed. “What?” he asked tiredly.

A muscle worked in Enjolras’s jaw before he blurted, “How?”

“How what?”

“How are you not struggling?”

Grantaire stared at him. “I don’t follow.”

Enjolras gestured helplessly. “With everything going on in the world...do you just not feel it?” he asked, a desperate edge to his voice. “How do you, of all people, hear everything on the news, and Twitter, and in our Les Amis meetings, and not just want to give up?”

“Me, of all people?” Grantaire repeated quietly. “Do you...do you want me to be struggling?”

Enjolras’s eyes widened. “No, of course not,” he said immediately. “That’s not– I didn’t mean it like that. I just…” He broke off, looking almost frustrated. “I guess I’m just curious why you aren’t as affected as other people.”

Grantaire paused, considering it. “I guess it’s because I’ve been through this already,” he said slowly. “The isolation, the despair, the feeling like nothing is ever going to get better...It’s not new to me. So it’s easier.” He huffed a dry, humorless laugh. “I mean, it’s not easy watching the world fall to shit, especially on this scale, but I’ve still been here before. I know that it does get better. So watching other people struggle with the same things I did...it doesn’t make me want to give up. It makes me want to show them that it can get better.” He shrugged, reaching out for Enjolras’s hand again. “It’s not gonna get better in the same way for everyone, and for some folks, things may never be the same, but things will still get better. And knowing that I can help other folks realize that...for me, that’s enough.”

Enjolras nodded, his expression oddly closed. “I guess I didn’t think of it that way.”

Grantaire searched his expression for a moment. “Can I be honest about something?” he asked quietly.

Enjolras looked up at him. “Of course,” he said.

Grantaire wet his lips almost nervously. “I think you do want me to be struggling.”

Enjolras dropped his hand, and it took everything in Grantaire not to immediately reach for it again. “The only thing that I want is for you to be happy,” Enjolras said, a hard edge to his voice. “I thought you knew that.”

“I do,” Grantaire said. “But I also think that I were struggling, it would be easier for you.”

Enjolras stared at him. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, then you wouldn’t be alone,” Grantaire said softly. “You wouldn’t be the only one who was struggling.”

Enjolras went very still, his expression dark. “I don’t...I don’t know what you mean,” he said stiffly.

Grantaire cocked his head. “Don’t you?”

“No!” Enjolras said, too loudly and too quickly to be sincere, and he looked away, his cheeks red. “I mean...no. I’m not...not like you were.” Again, his tone was harsh, but Grantaire didn’t take it personally, just watching him closely. “I don’t want to kill myself.”

“Ok,” Grantaire said evenly. “But that doesn’t mean you’re not struggling.”

“Everyone’s struggling,” Enjolras snapped. “Anyone who pays even an ounce of attention realizes that.”

Grantaire nodded slowly. “Maybe,” he agreed. “But not everyone is struggling to the same extent. Not everyone stays up late at night working on untenable solutions to unbearable problems just to give themselves something to do and a reason to not feel useless.”

Again, Enjolras went very still. “You don’t...you don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said, his voice shaking slightly. “That’s...if you think that’s what I’m doing here, you clearly have no idea—”

Grantaire held his hands up in a gesture that was equal parts soothing and defensive. “Maybe I don’t,” he said. “But maybe it’s time that you tried talking to someone about it.”

Enjolras’s lip curled. “I don’t need to talk to someone,” he said dismissively. “I don’t – it’s not – I don’t need help.”

“There’s nothing wrong with needing help,” Grantaire said quietly.

“I know that,” Enjolras snapped. “I donate monthly to the suicide prevention hotline for that very reason.”

“You do?” Grantaire asked, momentarily distracted.

Enjolras frowned. “Of course. Because of what could have happened to you.”

“I– That’s very sweet,” Grantaire said, and he leaned in and kissed Enjolras on the forehead before sighing, running his fingers lightly through Enjolras’s sleep-snarled curls. “But I have to be honest, the fact that during this conversation you went straight from me suggesting that you might be struggling to suicide has me really worried.”

Enjolras’s eyes widened. “I don’t want to kill myself,” he said firmly. “I swear to God, Grantaire—”

“That’s not the only thing I’m worried about,” Grantaire interrupted. “I’m worried that you think that struggling only looks like being suicidal.” He paused, looking at Enjolras closely. “I’m worried that you don’t think you need help just because you don’t want to kill yourself, no matter how much you may be struggling.”

Enjolras couldn’t seem to meet his eyes. “That’s not why I don’t think I need help,” he muttered, trying less like he was trying to convince Grantaire and more like he was trying to convince himself. “I– There are so many people who are so much worse off. I have my health, my job, the man I love, the work I love…”

“And you are surrounded everyday by people who have lost everything, by our democracy crumbling around us, by a corrupt system that lets cops get away with murdering unarmed Black and Brown men, by the despair that there is so much that we can’t do to help those who are so much worse off,” Grantaire said softly. “That would take a toll on anyone.”

Enjolras managed a small, sad smile. “Well, there is that.” He took a deep, shaky breath. “So you think I need help.”

Grantaire nodded. “I think at the very least, you should talk to someone.”

Enjolras smiled again. “I’m talking to you,” he said, nudging Grantaire lightly.

But Grantaire didn’t smile. “I meant a professional.”

Enjolras made a face. “You want me to see a shrink?”

“I want you to talk to a mental health professional, yes.”

“I prefer talking to you,” Enjolras said, leaning in to kiss Grantaire, but Grantaire stopped him.

“No.”

Enjolras frowned. “No what?”

Grantaire took a deep breath. “I love you,” he said, searching Enjolras’s expression for understanding. “And if you asked it of me, you know that I would try to be that person for you. That I would listen to you, for as long as you needed. That I would...I would bear it for you, as much as I could, to make it easier for you. To help you.” Enjolras’s brow was furrowed and Grantaire took another deep breath, steeling himself for what he needed to say. “But that might actually break me. I’m not strong enough for that, Enjolras. I still struggle sometimes, too – a lot of the time, if I’m being honest – and it takes everything that I have to keep going. If you put all of that on me, I’d have nothing left for myself.”

Enjolras reached out, taking both of Grantaire’s hands in his. “I would never, ever ask you to do that,” he said, his voice low.

“And that’s why you need to talk to someone else.”

Silence stretched between them again, but it was a different kind of silence now, both men coming to a tentative understanding. “Do I have to agree to this right now?” Enjolras asked finally.

Grantaire barked a laugh and shook his head. “You don’t have to agree to this at all if you don’t want.”

Enjolras looked surprised. “You’re not going to make me get help?”

“Enjolras, if I thought I could make you do anything…”

Enjolras grinned. “Fair.”

“But just know that when you are ready to get help,” Grantaire continued, squeezing his hand, “when you’re done with struggling with this on your own, I’ll be here to help.”

“Yeah?”

There was something almost desperate in Enjolras’s voice and without hesitating, Grantaire leaned in and kissed him. He rested his forehead against Enjolras’s, starting to say something but stopping, a small smile twitching at the corners of his mouth. Enjolras nudged him. “What?”

“Nothing.” Enjolras gave him a look and Grantaire laughed lightly. “Nothing, really. It was going to be nerdy.”

“Which is so completely out of the ordinary for you,” Enjolras said dryly.

Grantaire laughed again and kissed Enjolras once more. “Just...I meant what I said before. I can’t carry it for you. But I can carry you. Or at least help to.”

Enjolras snorted softly. “Lord of the Rings,” he said with a sigh. “I should’ve known.”

Grantaire grinned. “Not the first time I’ve been the Sam to your Frodo.”

“Genuinely cannot tell if I’m supposed to be flattered by that comparison or not.”

“Anyone’s guess, really,” Grantaire said with a laugh.

But Enjolras did not laugh, just leaning in again to kiss him once more. “I love you,” he said, suddenly serious. “And...I can’t promise…”

“I know,” Grantaire said, because he did. “I’m not going anywhere regardless.” He kissed Enjolras, trying to put everything he couldn’t bring himself to say into the kiss, and mostly trying to tell him that he wasn’t alone, that if Grantaire had his way, he never would be. “And I love you, too.”

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staticscreenwriting · 3 years

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The loneliest time of the year || Part two

Part 2 of 4

Summary: With a broken heart and the fear of having failed as a father, Frankie returns to his parents house for Christmas. What is supposed to be the most wonderful time of the year feels quite lonely. Though when an old friend shows up unexpectedly with her young son in tow, Frankie’s Christmas seems to gain a little more happiness. Can they help each other fight the ghosts of their pasts and overcome their fears ?

A/N: This is part of my 12 days of Christmas / Advent special. Likes, reblogs, comments are all much appreciated.

[additional note: I am German. Sometimes I get the tense wrong or make mistakes. I am useless when it comes to punctuation. Go easy on me, please.]

On the fourth day of Christmas my true love gave to me: Four messed up pies

By the morning of December 9th a heavy blanket of snow rests upon the world like a tick coat of marshmallow fluff.

A restlessness surges through Frankie as he turns from his left to his right to his back then repeats the process all over again. He kicks away the blankets then pulls them back. Sleep doesn’t come easy these days. In fact sleep hasn’t come easy in a while. It’s a price you have to pay for leading the life he leads, has led. For doing the job he did. You see things, bad things, and they stay with you. Not always but in the quiet moments they creep back into your mind and all you can do is stare and hope they fade again soon. Fill your brain with other things. Occupy your mind.

It’s moments like these that his fingers are twitching and his body is aching for release. For something to numb his mind. Help him forget.

There aren’t a lot of things that Frankie is proud of. In fact he can count them on one hand. One of them is his ability to fly. He's a damn good pilot … most of the time. (He is when someone doesn’t force him to navigate an overloaded plane across the Andes). He’s proud of Rosie. Despite his flaws and shortcomings he managed to create something so utterly perfect, that’s something to be proud of. And the. There’s the little coin in the pocket of his jacket. The one he fumbles with whenever he’s anxious or stressed. It’s gold and smooth and it proudly displays a big number 10 in the middle of a triangle on the front of the coin.

10 months. That’s a proud achievement.

It could be more. It should be more! He really tried but after coming home from Colombia, one man less than they went in, after his girlfriend broke up with him and took Rosie with her. After everything. He needed the psi to stop. Just for one goddamn minute. He felt immediate regret wash over him when he woke up the next morning. Called Pope. Entered a 12 step program.

10 months and he feels better. He likes himself more now. But in those 10 months the voices have gotten louder, the images clearer, his heart feels heavier.

With sleep being so far out of reach, he kicks off the blanket and drags his body out of bed. The smell of coffee hits his nose as soon as he steps out of his room, it drifts from the kitchen all the way up the stairs.

His parents are sitting by the kitchen counter, mom holding onto a big steaming mug of coffee while his dad is deeply invested in the morning. Paper, glasses perched low on his nose. This is home, it sends him straight back to his childhood. If only, he thinks, if only he could provide this sense of warmth and domesticity for his own child.

A knock on the front door shakes him from his thoughts. As he swings it open, a sharp sting of cold winter air whips at him, nips at his nose, his ears and his bare feet.

“Frankie hey, oh sorry did I wake you?”

(Y/N) is once again bundled up in layers of cozy clothes, keeping her warm and sheltered from the harsh weather. She looks cute. Absolutely fucking adorable. But in that moment, he doesn’t really notice that. Doesn’t notice Leo standing behind her either. His entire attention rests on the steaming pie she holds in her hands.

“You made a pie?”

“She made 4.” Leo speaks up, his voice dripping with irritation and annoyance.

“Thanks for throwing me under the bus, dude!”

Frankie regards the exchange with a fond smile pulling at the corners of his lips. There’s something so distinctly familiar in the way she interacts with her son, so unapologetically her. The way she’s always been. But now grown up entirely. A mother.

“Why did you make 4 pies?” He asks, eyebrows raised in amusement.

“Well I didn’t plan on making 4. The first one I mistook salt for sugar so you can imagine how it tasted. The second one I put way too much sugar in, might’ve been trying to compensate for my mistake with the first one but yeah that one did end up in the trash as well. The third … well I got pretty invested in an episode of unsolved mysteries and forgot it was in the oven so it turned out um — “

“Black. It was burned to a crisp.” Leo chimes up again, this time more amused than annoyed by his mother’s baking escapades.

“Yeah. It burned. But number 4 is looking pretty good.”

She looks up at Frankie with a smile so radiant it rivals the sun reflecting on the snowy ground. Pride shines in her eyes as she holds the pie towards him.

“Did you make me a pie?”

“Not exactly. It’s mostly for your folks. They agreed to watch this one while I got shopping for his Christmas presents.” (Y/N) explains, her tumb motioning towards the little boy over her shoulder. “This is a thank you to them for being literal angels. “

“Oh man you wouldn’t be saying that if you had to live with them growing up. I can’t tell you how many times dad unplugged my console while I was in the middle of a game.”

It’s a joke, of course it is. He really lucked out in the parents department and he’s not too proud or too shy to admit it. Maybe, he thinks, the good parent gene might’ve skipped a generation with him. His ex will surely agree with that statement.

“Hey uh — you mind having some company while shopping ?”

“You wanna go shopping for toys?”

“I need to get some presents for my daughter.”

“Oh that’s right, you have a kid too. “

He doesn’t blame her for not remembering. He doesn’t strike people as the father type. And really, he hasn’t seen his little one in quite some time.doesn’t see her during the entire Christmas time. Is he really much of a father anyway?

“Sure yeah! I’d love some company.”

Maybe, Frankie thinks, this will help him drown out the voice. Those that tell him bad thoughts, whisper mean things. Maybe it will help him filter out the images. The blood. The suffering.

Frankie was never overly fond of the extreme commercialization of what should be a peaceful family holiday. But maybe this year he is,a little bit at least. Because those bright colors, the loud noises, the crowds, the ads assaulting you from every corner, that all will help drown out the dark. At least for a moment.

“Alright lemme just get changed real quick.”

On the fifth day of Christmas my true love gave to me: Five days a week

“What the fuck is this?”

“It’s uh … it’s a … a game?”

“A game where you have to catch a piece of … poop.”

A wave of laughter tumbles from (Y/N)’s lips as Frankie holds up the brightly colored box, proudly displaying a drawing of a smiling turd.

“It’s so dumb. And that says a lot coming from me, I can appreciate a good fart joke. But this is …. this is just dumb. “

“ It's what the kids these days want. I guess …”

“Would you buy this for Leo?”

“Absolutely not,” (Y/N) replies before taking the box from his hand and placing it back on the shelf between several more games of a similar kind. “But he wouldn’t like it anyway. Leo likes books and animals and fantasy movies. He’s so smart sometimes I wonder where he got it from.”

“You kidding me?” Frankie exclaims, “you’re so smart and if I remember correctly, you always carried around books when you were younger.”

(Y/N) just shrugs at his words though Frankie can’t make out a faint blush of red dusting her cheeks. “Leo is such an easy kid, always has been. Sometimes I wonder if that’s really the way he is or if he just tries to be that way because of me. Because he knows that I have to do all the parenting by myself and he feels he’s responsible for helping me along.”

“Don’t be silly. You’re doing good with him. Least you know what to get him for Christmas, what he cares about, what he’s interested in.”

His heart feels so heavy. His words seem to weigh down on his tongue like a stack of bricks. To admit your own failures to yourself is one thing, to admit them to someone else is quite another story.

“What do you mean ?”

“I — I have no idea what to get for Rosie. I don’t even know when I’ll see her next. She stays with her mom 5 days a week. I only get her on the weekends and even then her mom often finds a reason not to let her stay. Special occasions? I don’t get to spend those with her. Bet she doesn’t even recognize me anymore next time. She’s just a baby …”

This can’t be happening. He’s not going to start crying in the middle of a Toys R Us like a hyperactive toddler on a temper tantrum. Not in front of a beautiful girl who has been nothing but kind to him. This can’t be happening.

(Y/N)’s hand settles on his arm with a gentle touch. Almost as if she’s afraid he’ll break any minute now. And honestly, he might.

“Tell me about Rosie. I know she means the world to you and that’s all that matters Frankie. You’re trying. You’re trying so hard and I’m sure there’s lots about her that you know that no one else does. She’s your baby too. So tell me about her and we’ll figure out what to get her.”

And so they sit down on a swing set, one that’s definitely not meant for adults to sit on and have deep discussions, and Frankie starts talking. Once he starts it’s like a cork has been popped. It pours out of him, all of his pride and admiration and love for Rosie. All that has been brewing for so long now bubbles over.

“... and she, she loves cuddling onto my chest and just listens to me. She doesn’t understand a word but she looks at me with her big beautiful eyes and it feels like I’m telling her all the biggest secrets of the universe the way she looks at me. Sometimes I sing and she — she falls asleep immediately.”

“That’s adorable.”

“Nah I think it's because my rendition of Eric Clapton is just real bad and boring.”

Their laughter is quiet, almost as if they are afraid of breaking the spell of this moment. Sometimes you find yourself at your most vulnerable during the big moments of your life and sometimes you do in the middle of a Toys R Us, sitting on a swingest that just barely holds your weight while a plastic giraffe looks over your shoulder and Kacey Musgrave’s rendition of “I’ll be home for Christmas” plays over the same overhead speakers that have been installed there in 1983.

“I just don’t want to disappoint her.”

He’s already disappointing himself and that hurts bad enough.

“Frankie, let me be honest with you. She’s a baby, she’s not gonna care what you get for her. This is more about you than her. Whatever you get she’s gonna like it. Babies are easy to please, gets harder the older they get. We’ll find something cute for her but um … I think you should call her.”

“She’s a baby, she doesn’t have a phone yet.”

“ Really? I had Leo on a newborn data plan the second he popped out.”

Frankie raises his eyebrow in confusion.

“I was joking you dingus. Of course you’re gonna call her mom. There’s this thing, I don’t know if you’ve heard about it, it’s called FaceTime. You can actually see ther person on the other side. “

“ Very funny. I know what facetime is … “

“ Then call them. You said it yourself, the little one doesn’t understand a word of what you’re saying but that doesn’t matter. You’re there. You’re showing interest and taking initiative. It shows you care. And I think seeing her might be good for you too, even if it’s not in person.”

“ You know, that sounds like a pretty good plan. “

“ Yeah? “ she asks him, a hopeful glimmer in her eyes, in her voice, in her entire being.

“ Yeah. “

“ Alright! Now let’s go find some presents for the little princess. May I suggest a cellphone? “

This time her laughter isn’t quite. It’s loud and radiant and the way her own joke amuses herself, is so goddamn endearing to Frankie.

“ Ah shut up. “ he replies though his voice too is dipped in amusement as he throws his arm around her shoulders and they walk down the shiny linoleum floor, past dolls and teddy bears and Star Wars action figures.

And it feels right. Like the fit together perfectly. Like puzzle pieces slotting into place.

And that feeling is damn scary.

On the sixth day of Christmas my true love gave to me: Six-hour flights.

The floor of (Y/N)’s living room is covered in wrapping paper. Reds and greens and silvers and golds hide what once was a nice dark cherry wood floor. There are bows and ribbons and gift tags in all shapes and sizes and colors.

“ Looks like Santa’s workshop in here, “ Frankie exclaims as he drops down on the floor next to her. All the presents they’ve purchased, neatly lined up in front of them, ready to be wrapped. Though to be fair, Frankie is quite sure he’s not gonna do a lot of wrapping himself. Sometimes you gotta admit defeat. And he ain’t too proud to admit that he is a horrible, horrible wrapper.

“ Yeah, I know I’m making a big fuss over things like this. Wrapping and the tree and stuff like that. I just — I don’t know it just makes me happy when I see that my actions put a smile on the faces of the people I love. “

“ Oh I wasn't judging. It’s sweet. “

For a while they stay in comfortable silence. Just them and the radio playing old Christmas songs. (Y/N)’s hands do quick work on the presents, Santa’s elves would be jealous.

It’s the first time in a long time, that silence doesn’t make him feel uncomfortable. That it doesn’t open up the gates for the voices to grow louder and the bad images to consume his head. No, this silence feels comfortable. It’s soft and warm. It’s tinted in golds and reds.

Maybe, he thinks, maybe seeking the company of someone who exudes joy and warmth does him good. Someone who knows him but not the bad. Never the bad. The faults, yes, the fears even, but not the blood that stains his hands or the vices he so desperately tries to fight.

“ What was the best Christmas present you ever got? “ (Y/N) speaks up as she glides a pair of scissors along the ribbon turning it into shiny curls.

“ Millennium Falcon playset.”

“ You and a million other little boys. “

“True. What can I say, I was easily pleased. What was yours ?”

(Y/N) thinks for a moment before a wistful smile settles on her face.

“My bubblegum pink roller skates.”

“Oh, I remember those!”

And he did. Squeaky pink roller skates with 4 pastel blue wheels and glittery silver laces.

“I remember the following summer all you did was skate up and down the street. “

“Yeeeah but that wasn’t entirely because of the skates.”

Frankie combs his hair from his face, he really needs to get it cut, and looks at her in confusion. “Huh?”

Another chuckle falls from (Y/N) ‘s lips. “I can’t believe you didn’t notice.”

“ Notice what?”

“That I had the biggest crush on you.”

Frankie is grateful for the fact that he’s not taking a sip of his drink right then, it surely would’ve ended in a spit-take. He was a nerdy kid, a nerdy teenager too. Kinda shy, a little lost. He wasn’t usually the boy that girls fancied.

“Me? You had a crush on me? “

It doesn’t make sense, not really. She was the one that was fascinating and exciting. Though he didn’t think of her that way when they were kids, he knew she was beautiful even back then. He hadn’t been interested in her romantically because she was a few years younger but that didn’t meanie didn’t realize the magic she held.

“Yes, you. You were cool, Frankie. You were older and you knew stuff about cars and planes and you could name every Star Wars spaceship and you had a skateboard. “

“I was a horrible skater.”

“Sure but it wasn’t so much about the skating as it was about the aesthetic. You were cool and you still are cool”

Frankie shrugs his shoulder nonchalantly. She thought he was cool, still does. No one ever thought he was cool. He isn’t a smooth talker like Pope and even he himself can admit that look wise he isn’t even playing in the same league as Will and Benny. But if (Y/N) thinks he’s cool that must mean something. Right ?

“You were the one traveling all over the world with your dad and you thought I was cool?”

She sets down the scissors, let’s her hands rest on her lap. There’s a sense of nervousness exuding from her now. Like the words she wants to speak are resting on the tip of her tongue and yet they are so difficult to speak.

“Maybe that was part of it too. I never had a real home. Nothing stable at least. Except for my grandparents’ house. This was home and you were, you are, forever entwined with my idea of home. Sometimes I missed this place so much that I’d sit in my room and my little brain would think of all the fun adventures we could go on if only I was old enough to hop on a 6 hour flight by myself. I’d ask grandma about you every time I called and she always told me what trouble you got into.”

“Oh no.”

“Oh yeah and that only made you more exciting in my eyes. Then she’d offer to let me speak to you but I was too chicken shit to do it. Thought you might look right through my facade and realize how into you I was.”

“I was so oblivious, I can assure you I wouldn’t have noticed.”

“Well … it’s too late now.”

“I guess so. Just — next time you fall in love with me let me know, alright.”

Her laugh rings through the room like bells, like songs, like whispers of a childhood magic long forgotten.

“That only sounds fair. It’s a deal.”

“Good, now …. would you mind wrapping my gifts for Rosie?”

“Nope, but in return would you come see Leo’s play with me next week? My dad can’t come and I think Leo would like to have some more people there that support him. And he seems to think you’re cool so …”

“Huh guess if you both think so it must be true.”

“Don’t let it get to your head.”

“Of course I’ll come. “

She smiles and it sends a weird flicker through him. Like fire, like electricity.

“ Now let me teach you how to curl the ribbon properly.”

#francisco morales x reader #frankie morales x reader #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal imagine #frankie morales x you #francisco morales imagine #frankie morales imagines #triple frontier imagine #triple frontier imagines #catfish imagine #catfish x reader #catfish x you #jos2020xmasspecial

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vietzuko · 3 years

Text

if we used to share a discord server, this post is for you!

hello! i am going to try to do this as anonymously and non-confrontationally as possible. i do not want this to be a spectacle or call out post, but i will say that i am quite disturbed by the way situations have transpired on the server.

in case you didn’t notice, i left! when i left, i wrote a little goodbye post in #general, which has since been deleted. either the mods deleted my goodbye or they banned me from the server (which automatically would delete my message). in case you didn’t see it, here was my goodbye message:

hi everyone, i’m leaving the server. if you’re a POC who is interested in joining an ATLA server where POC can talk about ATLA and critically discuss race, feel free to PM me for a link! otherwise, this is goodbye. see you all around.

i won’t rehash everything that happened in the events leading to this, nor will i name names in this post. if you were on the server, you probably saw what happened publicly or you can message me personally, either here or on discord. if we know each other through the server and you want some clarity over names/events in this post, please PM me.

if you are a POC in the ATLA fandom who is concerned by the events of this post and you would like me to clarify which server i’m talking about, please PM me.

i just wanted to share the very long message that i sent to the mods (on their prompting!) because i feel that it shows my perspective on what transpired. unfortunately, this message did not result in any meaningful change, except for me getting banned/my messages removed from the server. i suppose that’s a type of meaning! haha.

anyway. here’s the message. cw for racism, yellowface

hi MOD 1 (and presumably the other mods who will read this message)! thanks for reaching out. i’ve had some time to dwell on the situation and discuss it with other people in the server who witnessed it and reached out to me personally. this is going to be an unbelievably long message, so i apologize in advance and thank you for your time in reading it.

i think the first thing i’d like to do is give some context for the incident and to give my perspective on why i said the things i said.

i have PMed a mod about a racist incident in the server exactly once. it was when i first joined, and i saw a picture of a white person in yellowface in the cosplay channel. i didn’t know any of you personally yet (and this was before some of you even joined on as mods). i have since told SERVER MEMBER 1 about this incident and i’m pretty sure they mentioned it to you because i noticed you’ve changed the yellowface rule. but i think that the context of me pinging a mod about a racist incident and then witnessing another (although less egregious) instance of racism by the mods might explain why i am, in general, hesitant about talking to mods about racism on the server. i am just trying to live my life and experience as few micro-aggressions as possible.

i also think the fact that i regularly educate and push back against white people’s racially harmful messages in the server is also important context. i realize none of you likely know this, but about every two weeks i receive an unsolicited PM from a different white person apologizing/asking for forgiveness/asking for reassurance/asking further questions about their racism on the server. i’m glad people are learning from me, but this is a huge amount of emotional labor that i put into the server and its members because of course i have to reply and explain things and tell them not to worry and thank them for apologizing, etc. i know that these messages aren’t your fault, nor am i asking you to do anything about this. but it feels important that you know the price that i (and perhaps other poc in the server, although i can’t speak to that) pay in order to share space with you.

MOD 2 has even messaged me personally to thank me for educating people in the server and responding to racist messages, saying: “really appreciate how much effort you put in and everything, i was trying to type something up but floundering badly.” it was a nice message, and i appreciated it a lot! it also led me to believe that the mods would prefer if i engage with racist messages myself, rather than ping them, because it felt like i was just going to be more able/willing to articulate a response anyway.

so when SERVER MEMBER 2 messaged the zukka channel “thought that lives in my head rent free: Sokka's hairstyle in canon is just a warrior's hairstyle and has meaning because of that. Sokka wearing the same hairstyle in a modern AU is undisputably queer-coded” and nobody replied for a while, i assumed that it was because they had seen what i had seen-- a racially insensitive message that totally ignores sokka’s indigenous heritage and the history behind indigenous hair-- so i decided to step in with what i thought was a balanced response.

SERVER MEMBER 2 then replied with a cheery “Fair enough! I will defer to your greater knowledge,” which i couldn’t tell was sarcastic or not, but i decided to be generous and to believe they were genuinely thankful for my reply, so i responded with a “you too can have great knowledge. i only know things because i read things. anyone can read things and learn,” which is something i firmly believe and also a way to divert the conversation away from SERVER MEMBER 2’s mistake, which i felt was the most dignified solution for them. i suppose this message could be read as aggressive because i didn’t use exclamation marks? but that feels unfair and ungenerous because i genuinely did not mean this message in a harsh way.

then SERVER MEMBER 3 jumped in and asked a few questions, which i read as a request for clarification, so i tried to continue to explain my point. it felt like SERVER MEMBER 3 wasn’t understanding what i was trying to explain, or at least i wasn’t able to articulate myself well enough, which was making me a little tired and stressy (and i was also thinking about my own race and queerness in stressful and triggering ways), so i decided to tap out of the conversation.

me: dude i love u and i respect u and i truly believe that u are trying very hard to understand, but this conversation is making me kinda heated

SERVER MEMBER 3: I’m gonna step back from it because it’s not my conversation to insert myself into, which is what I did initially and apologize for

me: i think it's so important to engage + ask questions & i appreciate that u respect my opinions on these things, but i think i'm just. i have said what i need to say and now must sleep. much love to all.

to me, this felt like me expressing that i was feeling tired and upset and leaving the conversation, while still attempting to reassure SERVER MEMBER 3 that i still admired him as a friend. i felt like the conversation had ended peacefully!

i hope this helps explain why MOD 3’s message came as such a surprise.

“the escalation to defensiveness and accusation regarding the original (relatively benign) statement was unnecessary and exaggerated. There’s an atmosphere of purity policing that’s been growing, which is why I took away the squick channel, as I assumed that a space that encouraged no repercussions was facilitating irresponsibility aggressive arguments. “

i truly didn’t believe i was being defensive. i was very careful not to accuse anyone of anything. in fact, i tried as far as i could to coat my language in “i” statements-- “i would personally not choose…”, “i would just. stay away from…” in order to avoid “accusations.” i was also trying very hard not to be aggressive, and i (and other poc that i have spoken to about this) believe that the idea that my messages were aggressive is racialized. just because a poc is upset about racism, it doesn’t mean they’re attacking you personally!

i feel so hurt that my messages were wilfully interpreted in this way, instead of being read generously and from a more compassionate perspective, especially since i voiced my own upset and discomfort during the conversation. it distresses me to think that me expressing negative emotions is seen as aggressive, rather than a cause for empathy or care, and i do believe that this is because of my race.

if a mod had asked me to take the messages to the DMs or to squick or even just let me know that someone was interpreting my messages as aggressive, i would have changed my behavior. (like i said earlier, i spend a HUGE amount of energy coddling white people on this server. i am very used to it.)

instead, i got the shock of 45 minutes after the fact, being publicly chastised and labeled as aggressive and being told that my conversation was “something nasty or unwanted.”

the idea that SERVER MEMBER 3 was de-escalating a “clearly escalating situation” feels untrue to me. i was ready to move on after i sent my message to SERVER MEMBER 2, but he kept engaging me on the subject! (no hate to SERVER MEMBER 3 on this.)

i think one of the most painful parts of this whole situation is the implication that i was attempting to “purity police,” as though i am a person who picks fights just because i want to feel good about picking fights?? or to act holier-than-thou???? i do not do this. if you have witnessed ANY interaction i’ve had with a racially insensitive white person on the server, you will know this.

i am simply a person of color trying to live my life. i do not want to fight about racism. i want to chill out and watch my cartoons. unfortunately, sometimes, someone will say something that i consider racially insensitive and i will do my best to engage and explain why i find this insensitive. that is all. (it is important to note that most of the time, when i see racially insensitive things on the server, i do not say anything because i am tired and it is a lot of effort to engage. i truly only engaged this time because nobody had replied to the message and i was just like, oh, fine, i guess i’ll educate, since no one else has!)

this whole incident has honestly made me really hurt and disrespected. i have enjoyed my time on the server and i have made some good friends there. however, it feels clearer and clearer to me that the server is a space where white feelings of safety (not being criticized for their racist content) are prioritized over poc’s feelings of safety (not having to witness and experience racist content). i sincerely considered myself to be an active and enthusiastic member of the server, maybe even friends with some of you, but it feels to me that all of our previous positive interactions have been displaced by this idea of me as an aggressive, overzealous purity cop who calls things racist for fun.

i don’t even know how to repair my relationship with the server after this because i really do feel horrible and sick about the whole thing. i have spoken to other poc who also expressed their concerns about the way the mods handled the situation, even if these other poc weren’t directly involved, and some of us are considering leaving the server, if we haven’t already. (i would also like to note that these people reached out to me, unprompted, to make sure i was doing okay after what they and i interpreted as a micro-aggression by the mods. like, we independently read the situation in this way.)

(also, not sure if this matters, but i talked to SERVER MEMBER 3 the morning after the incident because i wanted to make sure he was okay, and we both ended up apologizing to each other and having a really good and productive talk.)

thanks again for reading this. i hope that you’ll be able to better understand my perspective on what occurred. i truly appreciate the work that you put into the server (especially as someone who also puts work into the server lol), and i know it’s difficult to mod a large server (i also mod an atla server!), but i continue to feel hurt about this. i know it’s hard to read tone over server messages, but i really wish that my (and SERVER MEMBER 4′s and SERVER MEMBER 5′s ) server messages had been read with greater compassion.

...

and that’s all folks! i’m going to be remaking my blog soon, partially because this whole experience has exhausted me and partially because i have been meaning to anonymize my internet presence for some time.

#felix.txt

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werevulvi · 3 years

Text

I wanted to write a bit about sex segregated spaces, in regards to people who pass as the opposite sex. This is not actually about trans people, as much as it is about the safety, integrity and general rights of male-passing biological women. I am not the only gender non-conforming woman who gets tossed out of female only spaces, based on the false presumption that we’re men. I do not care about validating trans women, or even trans men, for that matter. I care about real life practicality, risks and safety for ALL women, not just those who look conveniently clearly female, which starts with accepting that some women, whether they've medically transitioned or not, pass as male. And none of them should have to feminise themselves to access female only spaces. Whether that be to ensure safety from males, or to just take a leak.

The fact that I choose to keep my beard has almost nothing to do with that I'm male-passing. It may be my strongest "male" feature, but it's hardly the only one. I still pass as male with a clean shaven face, which makes shaving my beloved beard rather pointless, in my opinion. I would realistically need to go through more than just facial hair removal to pass as my own sex again. I'd probably even need facial feminisation surgery, hair transplant, voice feminisation and full body hair removal, at the very least, to even get close to passing as female again. But even then, I'd probably STILL be read as a trans woman, i.e. male. And even IF I did all that... WHY should I have to mutilate myself (a second time) by buying into harmful patriarchal beauty standards, which would worsen my dysphoria and reduce my comfort in my own skin significantly, to be allowed the safety of male-free spaces?

Does that sound feminist to you? Because to me, it's incredibly misogynistic, and strongly counterproductive. To uphold patriarchal gender roles for the safety of women... is the most insanely anti-feminist double standard I can possibly ever think of.

To lay out my argument on this topic, I'm going to use my own experiences as examples a lot. Mostly because I cannot with any conscience speak for anyone else than myself, at least not in such detail and with such harsh judgement. But I'm sure a lot of my experiences are applicable to other masculine women as well.

First off, I still consider myself gender critical, but my allegiance to radical feminism has been waning lately. This is mostly due to that although I agree with the base premise of radfem, I tend to disagree with the proposed solutions to almost all of the issues, because to me they come across as unfounded beliefs (yes, BELIEFS) that "it would just work" without much of any evidence to back up such a claim.

And when it comes to trans people, I've noticed a lot of... shall we say, willful ignorance, going on among many radfems, which does affect opinions on gender abolishion as well as sex segregated spaces to appear rather... intellectually dishonest, to be frank. Although this is not intended as a call out by any means, I merely want for people of all sides of the radfem/gender critical/pro-trans fence to stay critical and keep questioning everything, even one's own beloved ideology. Which I don't see a lot of. Instead I see almost religious defending of radfem as the ultimate/perfect ideology... oh, guess where I've seen that before? I've come to believe that "hivemindedness" is probably part of every possible ideology out there. Even radfem.

So, anyway.

One thing I come across time and time again is the belief (yes, I dare say "belief") that people never pass as the opposite sex, although it's mostly directed at trans people, this very much applies to people who are just gnc as well. Let's not forget that. And this belief seem to often lead to that transitioned/gnc people can just use the space intended for their biological sex, no problem. However, this is not the case. There is a problem. Very many trans people, and some gnc people, pass well enough to at least blend in enough to not raise much of an eyebrow among the opposite sex, and to most definitely stand out as an outsider among people of the same sex. OR they pass barely enough as either sex, and thus stand out as an outsider among both the same sex and the opposite sex, which can cause similar problems with single sex spaces.

There's also the thing that it generally is easier to pass as the opposite sex among complete strangers, compared to people who know you/your background. They tend to read you differently, depending on that.

At least in my experience, complete strangers assume I'm male and don't even as much as raise an eyebrow about how male I come across as. They accept their false assumption at face value. And why wouldn't they? 99,97% of people who "look like me" are biologically men. Then people who know I'm transitioned, but didn't know me pre-transition, tend to see me as a female who looks very convincingly male, whether that makes me a masculine woman, trans man, or any other (female) label in their eyes. They claim to be able to "see" my female nature, yet they somehow had no idea before I told them about my true sex. Then people who know about my history and saw it happen from the time before my transition (now only really my family) never quite succeeded to see me as anything other than a gnc woman. To quote my dad: "You look like a woman who's trying to look like a man." Although I'm sure my mom and sister don't have quite as harsh views about me, lol. They still seem to see me the way they always have, regardless of what name or pronouns they use for me.

This matters, because although people who know I'm transitioned and may even have witnessed my transition from the beginning, struggle to see me as a man (which I respect entirely and I'm VERY careful to not push wanting to be seen/read as anything in particular, but also, people do not want to be rude, especially irl) that does not go for people who have never even seen me before the moment I walk into... say, a public bathroom. To them I cannot possibly be anything other than a man, and it's almost impossible to change their view of me as male once their brains have registered me as such. I need to conjure up pretty fucking compelling evidence to shatter that view they have of me.

This is important, because it means I cannot feasibly use female only spaces, unless someone else (who is also female) vouches for me and explains my situation for me. This is, most likely due to people being more likely to believe an unlikely explanation when it's told by someone else, because maybe I could be lying; and only someone of the same sex as me can accompany/escort me into female only spaces, obviously. But even then, there's a ton of tension around my presentation. An air of distrust, basically. The question that hangs in the air: "Is that a trans woman?" even after they've been given a thorough explanation of my situation. It's uncomfortable for everyone involved. Imagine how it goes then if I'd just show up unannounced, and without someone to vouch for me. I just get booted on sight.

Yes, I can whine about this all day, but that is NOT my point.

My point is that I'm either directly, or implicitly, unwelcome in female only spaces, despite being biologically female, because of my transitioned appearance... despite I'm not even on testosterone anymore since 2 years ago. Sure, most gnc women (whether transitioned or not) don't seem to have turned out quite as passable as me, but clearly, it happens. So let's stop pretending that it doesn't.

So with that in mind, I don't always have access to a gender neutral space. Like for example when I travel with the ferry that goes between my island and the mainland of my country, there is only men's bathrooms and women's bathrooms. No third option. That's a 3 hour boat ride, and with my coffee drinking habit, I will need to pee at some point or another while aboard that ship, alright. And no, peeing in the ocean is not an option, as squatting over the railing would be incredibly dangerous, and most likely not even remotely allowed. Granted, I don't take the ferry often, it's just the most clear example I can think of. Because it's my only means of transportation to/from the mainland, except from flying, which is incredibly expensive, less reliable and obviously an environmental hazard. So when I do have to use that ferry, I'm kinda stuck with my choices.

So then, am I better off going with the men's or women's bathroom? I am much more likely to be left alone to do my business in the men's, so even though that is not the space I want to be in, nor do I think it's "right" for me to be there, sometimes it's even a bit scary, other times even impractical if there's only urinals and no stall, and it's absolutely not validating at all - it's the only bathroom that I can realistically use, without too much trouble. And I don't want trouble. But I also hate having to put my own safety on the backburner for the perceived safety of other women, who are not actually at any higher safety risk when left alone with me.

So, onto the more general, political aspects of this issue:

Women in male only spaces may be less of an issue in regards to safety, at least for the majority of people (men) in that space, especially if the woman in question passes as male. No one gives a fuck, generally. But problem is then that she is at far greater risk than the majority of people (women) would be with a single male, in a female only space. As I think a group of women against one male is generally less risk towards the women, when compared to a group of men against a single female, which can be extremely dangerous for her. Although I've so far never been faced with any sort of violence in a male only space, let's not pretend that my presense in a male only space is somehow LESS dangerous for me, than how dangerous the presense of ONE male in a space with a whole group of women, would be for those women. Statistically and realistically, I'm at a far greater risk than they are, and no, I do not have any more choice in the matter than they do.

Thus, this kinda skewed idea of safety and choice, becomes a question of ethics, I think.

Furthermore, I'm a person of principles, and it wouldn't sit right with me that if males should never under any circumstances be allowed in female spaces, but females could be allowed in male spaces. I refuse to be a hypocrit on purpose! No, if males should never under any circumstances be allowed in female spaces, then females should also never under any circumstances be allowed in male spaces. OR, if females CAN under some special circumstances be allowed into male spaces, then males should be allowed the same in female spaces. Both of these solutions pose serious problems, which I keep seeing being brushed under the carpet a lot, and that annoys me.

But if we go with the first idea, of barring people from using opposite sex spaces altogether, then where the fuck do I pee? Should I utilise my "right" to use female spaces, despite making everyone uncomfortable and feeling threatened by my presense, as well as risking being kicked out and forced to use the equivalent male spaces anyway, which is exactly what that idea is meant to prevent - or should I completely avoid being in places which I know does not have a gender neutral bathroom, such as the ferry? Would that not be discrimination? Which is the most reasonable option here, what is the most practical, what's wrong and what's right? Do I even have a RIGHT to use female bathrooms, and if so, how do I prove it, considering my ID still says I'm male?

Trans men aren't gonna be nearly as willing to use female only spaces, and trans women definitely not eager to use male only spaces. But aside from that validation factor, I have the exact same struggle as trans people do on this particular point. Quite often they do toss and turn at which bloody bathroom to pick, not just out of validation, but because they genuinely struggle to figure out which one is the best option for them practically. Especially if they don't quite pass as either sex, and most and foremost just wanna do their business without unneccesary drama.

Also, to clarify: barring trans people from opposite sex spaces is NOT discrimination, as they never belonged there to begin with - but leaving them with no other option than to pee themselves, is. Which means that I think it's fucked up to barr them from those spaces BEFORE having solved the problem of "if they can't go there, then where?"

Perhaps I'm the only one around here who cares about males' integrity, safety and human rights. But even if so, I should not be the only one to care about gnc females' integrity, safety and rights. Male-passing females, whether transitioned or not, whether bearded or not, are still female, and if we don't want them in female only spaces, and not in male only spaces either; why? Because they "chose" to medically transition and/or dress in men's clothing?

Yeah, well, in most cases of transitioned females, they transitioned because of dysphoria, which no one chooses to have. It's a medical condition. Barring people from spaces they'd otherwise be welcomed into, due to the visual outcome of the treatment of their medical condition... is ableism. Barring a woman from a female only space she belongs in, solely because her unusual physical appearance freaks you out... is ableism. Also, simply being gnc and being viscerally uncomfortable with presenting femininely is also not a choice. And even if it was... shouldn't it be? That's why I cannot roll with that sorta solution. I dunno if it counts as a form of discrimination by definition, but it just smells a lot like it from where I sit. That it's no more right to toss me out of, or give me trouble, in a women's bathroom, than a masculine women who also passes as male but who has not medically transitioned.

That said, however, women's safety DOES matter a lot to me. Hence my reluctance to join their spaces, despite being a woman myself. I guess, what I'd want is complete sex segregation to work in my favour, but I can't promote a rule that would discriminate against me. I'm sorry, I just can't. I desire FUNCTIONAL sex segregated spaces, but realistically they cannot function. Truth is that the only womens spaces I've been allowed into since I began passing as male, are "trans inclusionary" ones that openly allow in trans women, ironically. I care about the safety of other women, and their right to have their own spaces... but not at the expense of my own rights, as a fellow woman. To say otherwise would be a crime against myself. I really wish this could be solved in some way that would work in practice, but honestly I don't think it can anytime soon. Not without some seriously tried and proven, practical and humane methods to check what sex people entering single sex spaces actually are.

That is the reality that people have to face. And personally I'd rather focus on women's rights than trans rights, but as a woman who's medically transitioning, I'd shoot my own foot no matter which one I'd choose. That's quite a dilemma.

So where my opinion stands on this right now, is basically this: I think female only spaces should only be for biological women, but I'm reluctantly okay-ish with males who pass as female utilising female only spaces, and vice versa for females in male only spaces. However, this does not feel ideal at all. It's a compromise. Ideally, I want such spaces to be entirely sex segregated, and for even people who pass as the opposite sex (like myself) to be allowed into spaces of their biological sex. My appeal here is both realistic practicality with the reality that some people really do pass as the opposite sex, as well as the safety, rights and integrity of male-passing women.

#female only spaces #gnc women #yes some trans people pass #but not only trans people pass #radical feminism #gender critical #ok to rb #my opinions and concerns

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lessonsfrommadamexmas · 3 years

Text

Spite and Temptation

Summary: Brigadier General Armstrong needs competent snipers for Fort Briggs and her eyes are set on a certain hawk. While Lieut. Colonel Mustang knows she doesn’t stand a chance, the dispute seems too entertaining to pass.

Gen. 1.5k words.

Link to AO3 (updated: all three chapters are up now)

Hello, @meridianheroine, I’m your secret santa for @fmasecretsanta2020 and I wish you a Happy New Year! Would you accept half of a story and the promise of finishing it real soon? I’m so sorry I couldn’t wrap it up in time and I wanted to edit it properly. There’s only one or two chapters left. I hope you find it entertaining.

- - - -

Olivier Mira Armstrong studied the men in the room, all sitting around the large rectangular meeting table. It seemed she had lost the fight before it even began.

— Sir, Fort Briggs has requested an alchemist as soon as the war ended.

As a Brigadier General, she was the lowest rank around, sent to represent the soon-to-be-deceased Major General Solon. Well, that might be a harsh thing to say, but who was she fooling? The men of Briggs were, indeed, tough, to the point of not knowing when to retire. The fort was ready for her and she was ready for it, yet the General remained skeptical due to her young age.

That’s how she found herself in charge of getting the first alchemist for Fort Briggs.

— Indeed, I have read General Solon’s letter.

King Bradley, the highest authority of Amestris, always made himself directly involved when the subject was State alchemy. It didn’t surprise her that the Führer would come all the way to East Headquarters to join the meeting, and it certainly didn’t intimidate her to discuss business with him. Nevertheless, she couldn’t ignore the man’s decisiveness as he stood tall across from her continued to speak:

— However, a war of the dimensions of Ishval leaves us with several losses. From retirements to unfortunate cases of suicide, we cannot open hand of any State Alchemist as of now. That is why I myself have cared for this issue and decided, before we even returned from Ishval, to assign all alchemists back to their previous headquarters, with very few exceptions.

The ultimatum was evident, transfers were out of question. She jumped to her final attempt.

— I comprehend, sir, however, I’m certain there are gaps yet to be filled after said losses, and we’re going to need new exams. I, then, ask your permission to run a State Alchemist Exam in Briggs. Although the Extermination War has left us with one less enemy to face, Drachma remains as one of the country’s most challenging enemies and their forces are restless. The creative input of alchemy would greatly benefit Briggs’ battle strategies.

King Bradley turned his attention to the redhead man sitting a few chairs to her left.

— You can always count with the support of the Northern Headquarters, isn't that right, General Valdo?

— Of course, Führer. It is our duty to provide the best men we have whenever requested.

Major General Valdo was a cowardly little man who would always take as few responsibilities regarding the border as he could. It was undoubtedly of his interest to provide men and leave the rest to Briggs whenever possible. Olivier couldn’t wait to do business with him rank to rank.

— As well as any other place in Amestris — Bradley continued. — Fort Briggs isn’t fighting our battles alone, Brigadier General. The place isn’t a research center and it isn’t what it’s meant to be. You’re our raw power, that’s what we need you to be. A State Alchemist is better assisted in the headquarters, and they’ll be ready to join your forces whenever required. Since most of the manpower in the Ishval War came from the East, along with some of the best Human Weapons from Central, I’ll only be receiving the documentation from East and Center commands, where the exams are of utmost importance. If there aren't any more questions, I’ll be leaving you all to General Grumman.

Armstrong eyed instinctively the exam protocols she had helped her superior write while the other generals addressed started to collect their own paperwork.

— Can Briggs count on your consideration of our issue in the future, sir?

— Trust me, General Armstrong. You aren’t the only one disappointed. I’m sure some State Alchemists expected a guaranteed spot in Central Command after their outstanding performance, but that’s how it is. Amestris cannot stop. Still, it was a pleasure to know Briggs remains dedicated and brave enough to face the Führer himself. You can rest assured you have left me with something to mull over for the next few years.

The Fuhrer's voice was lighthearted although she couldn't notice any smile behind his thick mustache. Fort Briggs was one breathing organism and outsiders, despite necessary and helpful, were simply crutches. However, the two of them were on good terms, so she limited herself to a brief, respectful reply.

— Thank you for your attention, sir.

Lieutenant General Grumman stood up and circled the table, handing in his and the other General’s documents. King Bradley gave him a polite pat on the shoulder as if passing the torch, to which Grumman responded with a nod. He restarted the meeting as soon as the Führer closed the door.

— Well, as you all know, we're here today to discuss transfers and assignments regarding the East personnel. Let us treat of each headquarters’s pressing needs. Brigadier General Armstrong, you didn’t come just for an alchemist, am I correct?

The head of East Headquarters carried a joyful aura and seemed to be a malleable man, not that Olivier would underestimate the accumulated wisdom reflected in his wrinkles and white hair.

— Snipers are one of our greatest weapons. We depend on versatile soldiers who can disguise, attack from afar and patiently face our foggy, snowy conditions. There’s no place that could make better use of a soldier like the Hawk’s Eye than Briggs.

Olivier Armstrong left the meeting with her confidence restored. General Solon didn’t have many hopes when it came to alchemy anyway, but she had succeeded in everything else. The woman knew that an important part of her mission was to find balance between her assertive nature and diplomacy, and she was thankful for the opportunity. Today, she had been able to blend in with the other Generals smoothly and defend the Fort’s needs. She also seemed to have earned the Fuhrer’s respect, a feat that would add points to her promotion.

That, along with taking the Hawk’s Eye to the North. All that was left was to reach out to the young woman through her field superior, Sergeant Megan Dorovan, who was likely mentoring her on her next steps.

Olivier walked the hallways enjoying the warm weather and watching the garden over the wide window. There was only grass and stone. As plain as her snowy place.

— Good morning, Brigadier General… Armstrong?

Her eyes turned to the man who wasn’t simply passing by, but had stopped in front of her. Raven hair outlined a face that couldn’t be older than early twenties. She checked on his shoulder the insignia of Lieutenant Colonel.

— Morning — she frowned.

— Lieut. Col. Roy Mustang, sir — he hurried to introduce himself with a smile. Upon no reaction from her, he added: — The Flame Alchemist. Hero of Ishval. Honored to meet you.

The man puffed his chest as he spoke. The type who likes to impress, then. Hopefully she wasn’t dealing with a bootlicker, but merely a soldier seeking connections. Either way, she would cut his crap.

— You look like you barely left the diapers, not a war veteran — she remarked, dryly.

In truth, it was impossible to ignore the mark of war in a veteran, but he might be putting some effort into hiding it. Although he was taken aback for a second, Mustang didn’t let himself be intimidated by her words like most men.

— You also seem very young for someone who is listed to take charge of Briggs, sir. I guess our competencies speak louder than our ages.

Ah, yes, the expected flattery was as amusing as it was annoying. Olivier didn’t agree with the idea of giving State Alchemists the title of Major despite their lack of experience. It created incompetent soldiers like her brother or overconfident ones like the man in front of her.

— I wonder if there’s anything to you beyond your alchemy, as it often is with Dogs of the Military.

— Rumor goes Briggs is looking for a Dog of the Military, sir. How is it going? Oh, if you’re on your way to the cafeteria, we could go together.

He was a quick one, she had to admit.

— Alchemy can wait, for now. I have other things to take care of, so I’m gonna have to pass.

The woman adjusted her coat to signal the end of the conversation. Mustang seemed to understand, because this time he was simply polite to ask:

— Looking for someone specific, sir? If I could give you any directions…

— Yes, actually, Sergeant Dorovan. I’m taking a hawk to the North.

— Hawkeye?! — he asked in utter surprise. For some reason, that simple implication had pierced through the man’s facade quicker than any of her teasing. The smirk that formed on his lips next had been his most genuine expression so far. — Too bad she’s already applying to the Warrant Officer’s position, on my team.

No way.

#Roy and Oliver bickering #Roy Mustang #Olivier Mira Armstrong #General Grumman #King Bradley #army inconsistencies but that's how it is in Amestris okay?

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queen-scribbles · 4 years

Text

Shepherd’s Honor

This oneshot brought to you by the mental image of Trouble carrying Trick piggyback that wouldn’t go away. :D Not that I tried all that hard.

----

Patrolling Haven was boring. Usually. Trick couldn’t say she cared much for how today chose to make itself an exception to that rule.

Namely the sharp, familiar pain that spiked through her right shin. It had her bracing one hand against a nearby wall for support even as her gaze tipped skyward.

Trouble must have heard her harsh breath in, because he stopped and swung around to look at her. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Trick said, not finding what she’d expected in her scan of the pale blue sky. She pushed away from the wall and fell in step next to him again, but only made it a few paces before a follow-up ache cramped her leg and made her flinch. “Okay, maybe something...”

Trouble shot her a look caught somewhere between confused and concerned. “What?”

“Well, first off, it’s gonna storm later,” she replied, leaning against his shoulder for support as she tried to shake out the cramping muscles.

That made him frown up at the cloudless sky. “How can you tell?”

“I’m magic,” Trick deadpanned, cautiously setting weight back on that leg.

Trouble snorted. “Shit, I know that. Seriously, Trick, how can you tell? An’ are you alright?”

“Yes, to the second,” she assured him when her leg held weight, “and short answer for the first is I broke my leg real bad when I was younger an’ now it aches when rain’s comin’.”

His nose wrinkled. “That’s... bad. But also kinda cool.”

She laughed. “Tell me about it; all in lookin’ for the silver lining. I don’t like that my leg hurts, but it really comes in handy to have a warning about that kinda thing when you’re debatin’ if you should move on from a town or stay put one more night.”

“I’ll bet.” He cocked his head. “You okay to keep going?”

Trick nodded. “Kinda hafta be, don’t I? We’re only halfway done.”

Trouble rolled his eyes. “Like I’d make you keep walkin’ on that leg if it was hurtin’ you that bad.”

“Sweet of you,” Trick laughed, flipping her braid back over her shoulder. “But it’s fine for now. I’ll let you know if that changes.”

He grinned and nudged her shoulder. “Promise?”

“Shepherd’s honor,” she grinned back. “I promise.”

They made it another quarter of the way before it changed. Not coincidentally, that was when the first dark storm clouds appeared on the horizon. Trouble noticed those two things in the opposite order Trick did; saw the clouds and turned to look at her.

She was limping, she knew, just noticeably, and flashed a sheepish smile. “It doesn’t hurt. Not that bad. Only thing that might be a problem is stairs.” The words had barely left her mouth when they reached the first (very long) flight of stairs back down to Ashtown and the Shepherd compound. “This just isn’t my day, is it?” she muttered wryly, and kicked a pebble off the top step.

Trouble scratched the back of his neck. “Want me to carry you?”

“What, like piggyback?” Trick snarked, touched by the offer but unsure how well it would work.

He shrugged. “’Less you wanna bang your head against the wall every few steps, that’s prob’ly the best way, dontcha think?”

“Yeah, but...”

He winked at her. “C’mon, Trick, you can’t be that heavy.”

Not for you, at least, she thought dryly. “It’s not that! I just know how fast carryin’ weight--any weight--can tire you out on stairs.”

Another shrug. “Better that than makin’ you walk on it.” Trouble grinned. “I’m not gonna drop you.”

Trick laughed. “Promise?”

His grin widened. “Shepherd’s honor.”

She only hesitated a couple seconds more. “Oh, fine.” It would be better than fumbling down on her own, no matter the loss of dignity. And they were pretty close in height, it was easy enough to wrap her arms around his neck and boost herself up. Trouble jokingly staggered sideways as he settled his grip under her legs.

“Muti,” Trick growled through a laugh as she freed one arm to punch his shoulder.

“Just teasin’,” Trouble promised with another grin.

“I know,” she said, resting her chin atop his head. His hair smelled like sun and charch and she smiled at the familiarity. “I’m good when you are.”

“Right.” He shifted ever so slightly so his hands were closer to the backs of her knees, and started down the steps.

It was trickier than either anticipated to keep their balance, but they managed to get to the bottom without killing themselves. There were two or three more similar flights to go, but Trick insisted on walking in between so Trouble could have a break. “It doesn’t hurt that much,” she promised. “More like a really strong cramp than anything.”

“You say that like it’s any better than your leg actually hurtin’.” he muttered.

“Trust me, it is,” she sighed, running one hand along her braid. I know from experience.

Trouble kicked a pebble, and they watched it skitter ahead of them. When they caught up to it, Trick kicked it further. This time it veered sideways when it ricocheted from the edge of a cobblestone and out of reach.

“So, how exactly didja break your leg so bad it helps you predict the weather?” he asked when they reached the next flight of stairs, longer and narrower and curving left.

Trick laughed as she hoisted herself up on his back again. “Oh, it was very exciting. I fell off a ladder.”

Trouble barked a disbelieving laugh of his own. “Really? That’s it?”

“Well, I may have been runnin’ from some people...” she allowed, tightening her grip when he started to turn and look at her. “Trouble, watch where you’re goin’.”

“Right, right.” He hesitated a beat. “Who were you runnin’ from?”

“You want the long version?” Trick chuckled. Even that wasn’t a terribly exciting story, in her opinion, but he was carrying her down steps without a word of complaint. She’d spin him any damn tale about herself he wanted.

“Sure, why not?” Trouble grunted, shifting his grip. “If you don’t mind, anyway.”

“Nah, it’s fine,” she promised, wriggling higher when she realized she was sort of strangling him in her current position. “So, there’s this merchant. Decided he wanted extra muscle for the trip from Capra to this town out near Lindell, which makes sense. He was offering good money and I needed work, so I signed up. It’s a pretty long trip, we had to scare off a couple groups of bandit, actually kill some mean-spirited critters, so I more than earned my lyss this time ‘round.”

“And?” Trouble prompted when she paused.

Trick snorted a laugh through her nose and rested her chin atop his head again. “And the kisich tried to weasel outta payin’ me. Dunno if he was just a skinflint or had something against Diminished or whatever, but when I stood my ground instead of cavin’ like he expected, his men went to force the issue and we had a... uh, scuffle.” She chuckled. “Got the mother of all beautiful black eyes from that scrap. Anyway, partway in, one gets the bright idea to taunt me with the coin purse holdin’ my pay. Guess he thought it would rile me up so I didn’t think straight. He forgot how hard I am to rile. And how quick I can be.” She grinned, her fingers digging into Trouble’s collar. “Punched him in the nose and took off with my money when he dropped it.”

Trouble snorted. “Lemme guess, they came after you.”

“Like yiwari after a rabbit,” Trick confirmed, sliding off his back as they reached the bottom of the stairs. “But I had a really good head start.” Her leg cramped and she glanced up at the much closer storm clouds. “And I made it even bigger ‘cause the outskirts of the town had the houses all built close together, y’know, where you can jump pretty easy roof to roof?”

He nodded. “Yeah.”

“There was a ladder to the roof every so many houses, so I went up the first one I found and zigzagged my way along the outskirts, jumpin’ alleys an’ hidin’ a couple times ‘til I lost ‘em.”

“Good thing you didn’t fall,” Trouble commented

“Oh, very good,” Another of those silver linings. Trick agreed wryly, scanning the side streets they passed for anything off. It seemed all clear. “Would not have been pretty.”

“Why didn’t ya just tell somebody that kisich was tryin’ to cheat ya?”

She snorted. “Maybe I woulda if I weren’t so obviously Diminished.” She watched his gaze flick to her hair, then back to the street. “They had an.... unlovey reputation regarding how they treated my kind.”

“Oh.” Trouble cracked his knuckles. “I’da kicked their asses. The merchant’s men, I mean.”

“I know,” Trick said with a smile, bumping her shoulder to his(harder than she’d meant to, her limp was getting worse). “If I’d had you backin’ me, I mighta gone for that myself. As it was, I didn’t really wanna fight them. Not there. Just wanted my money. An’ I got that.”

This last stretch of road was a short one, and they reached the final flight of stairs much more quickly than the previous ones. The clouds were actually starting to dim the sun as Trick climbed up on Trouble’s back again, and she hoped the approaching storm held off long enough for them to reach the compound.

“So where this ladder you fell off figure in?” Trouble prompted as he started down the steps.

“Right.” Trick pulled her attention off the sky and back to her story. “Getting down. I waited a good... half hour in my last hidin’ spot to make sure they were gone. The sun was startin’ to set when I finally felt safe comin’ out; the shadows kept me from seeing the, uh, condition of the closest ladder. The wood was all dry-rotted, fourth or fifth rung down broke the second I put weight on it. I fell maybe fifteen feet? Somethin’ like that.”

Trouble gave a low whistle. “Ouch.”

“Tell me about it, I’m lucky my leg’s the only thing I broke. But it was bad enough to more than make up for being the only damage--bone ripped through the skin and everything.”

“What didja do?” he asked, boosting her higher as she started to slide.

“Limped--well, hobbled is prob’ly better--around til I found a healer. Fortunately didn’t take too long,” she shrugged. “Hadn’t scrapped together enough know-how to fix somethin’ that bad for myself yet.” She wiggled her finger significantly and snorted. “Barely had twenty lyss to my name after payin’ the man. And even with his help, it still scarred real nasty. ‘Bout this long.” She let go with one hand to hold thumb and index finger four or five inches apart in demonstration. “An’ now I have a surefire way of tellin’ when it’s gonna” --a fat, wet droplet hit the back of her neck and made her flinch--”rain.”

Trouble swore as they reached the bottom of the steps and he let her down. “Was hopin’ we’d make it back ‘fore that got here,” he admitted as rain freckled both their shirts.

“You and me both,” Trick said wryly. She grabbed his wrist. The compound was in view down the the far end of the street. “C’mon, if we hurry, maybe we can at least avoid getting completely drenched.”

He laughed and let her tug him into motion, but was nice enough to not outpace her when her limp slowed her down. Which meant they both got drenched when the skies opened up just before they made it through the Shepherd compound gates.

Trouble swore again, but he was grinning when they ducked under the cover of the entrance and he shook water from his hair like a dog.

“Sorry,” Trick said through a laugh, only slightly sheepish, and squeezed water from her braid. “But thanks for the help. And stickin’ with me.”

“Don’t mention it,” he winked, thumping her on the back with one hand while he raked hair out of his eyes with the other. “It’s what you do for friends.”

“Still.” She lightly punched his shoulder. “I appreciate it. And I appreciated even more that you didn’t drop me.”

“Hey, I promised, didn’t I?” Trouble said with a laugh. “Shepherd’s honor an’ all.”

“And I’ve encountered enough people who didn’t keep their word to make me appreciate when someone does.” Trick glanced toward the courtyard, rain now falling in sheets. “You know we still have to make it across that to get to our rooms, right?”

Trouble’s grin widened. “Need another ride?”

Trick’s leg twinged even as thunder rumbled and she snorted a laugh. “Wouldn’t turn it down.”

““Alright, then.”

Neither of them cared if anyone saw their pell-mell run through the downpour for the dormitory wing of the compound, Trick’s arms locked around Trouble’s neck and both laughing the whole way. Trouble kicked the door shut behind them and Trick tightened her grip in a backwards sort-of hug before sliding off.

“Thanks, Trouble,” she grinned, bumping her shoulder to his.

“Welcome, Trick,” he returned, also grinning as he returned the shoulder bump before they headed for their rooms to dry off.

Trick found herself smiling as she stripped off her wet clothes--and not just because her gun had escaped getting wet. While her leg flaring up and then getting rained on wouldn’t have been her first choice for how to break the monotony of patrol, at least handling it with a friend--especially one strong enough to carry her--had kept it from being entirely awful.

Honestly, she had to admit as she dried off and reached for fresh clothes, it had almost (almost) been fun.

#queens fic #shepherds of haven #elyana trick #trouble alder #shoh #not really shippy bc neither of these goofballs has started falling yet #(not that they'll REALIZE when they start falling #she's at least as oblivious as him)

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jadelotusflower · 3 years

Text

March 2021 Roundup

Reading

Benevolence by Julie Janson - One of those books that caught my eye at the library (I’m a sucker for the “top picks” shelf) and I’m glad I picked up. The story of Muraging, given over in 1813 to the Parramatta Native School, but always trying to find a way back to her family and culture in the brutal early days of colonisation - resilient in the face of so much hardship. Janson is a Burruberongal woman of the Durag Aboriginal Nation, and Muraging is based on her great-great grandmother and Durag oral histories. An engrossing but often difficult read, about a period of history not often told from this perspective.

One Day by David Nicholls - A book that has been sitting on my bookshelf for so long I don’t even remember buying it. I vaguely recall seeing the movie adaptation on a plane once so must have enjoyed it, but can’t say I would recommend this book. Depicting St Swithin’s Day every year in the lives of two absolute character cliches, from one night stand, to friendship, romance and marriage. The concept is neat and the writing has wit, but I just couldn’t bring myself to care about Dex (insufferable twat) and Emma (not like other girls) or their love story. Okay, it’s not that bad. It kind of grew on me by the end.

Watching

Superman and Lois (episodes 1-5) - I’ve had reservations about this show because of this but am giving it a shot. I have not followed the Arrowverse/Crisis but a friend did her best to explain it to me, although honestly I found it this show works just as well as a standalone. The premise is simple - Lois and Clark return to Smallville with their twin sons for teen superhero angst part two. To be honest, it feels so much like a Smallville revival that...I kind of wish it was?

Tyler Hoechlin makes a good Clark, but that padded Superman suit is an embarrassment - get rid of those fake muscles and show us some super collarbones! Elizabeth Tulloch is growing on me as Lois - she’s very...subdued, but imo lacking that spark Kidder, Hatcher, and Durance had. Honestly, subdued it how I would describe the show overall. Also the colour palette is sooo drab because gritty realism I guess.

I enjoy the family drama aspect of it, although I wish one of the kids was a girl. I mean, I understand why they’re twin boys - the son becomes the father and the father the son and all that - complete with both sons being named after both of Clark’s fathers (is there a name for the trope of the hero’s kids being named after his dead family/mentors as if the mother had no input??). The Captain Luthor/Morgan Edge plots are still in the setup stage so hard to comment on them.

I sound harsh, I don’t dislike the show overall (and there’s some really good elements there). We’ll see, I guess.

Man of Steel/Batman v Superman/Zack Snyder’s Justice League - I’ve never really been a huge fan of the Snyderverse, and have been trying my best to avoid the Discourse about the Snyder cut over the past few years (from both sides). I have however been following what Ray Fisher has had to say, and can’t deny my interest was piqued by the idea that there was an entirely different film out there that did right by its characters. So I went back and revisited MoS/BvS before embarking on JL to give the franchise another shot.

While I still don’t really vibe with Snyder’s aesthetic (it’s just a bit bleak and muddy for me) I think these films are actually better when viewed together as one long story. I can appreciate that he made an effort to step away from the Donner nostalgia, and tell this epic modern myth of gods among men, and can enjoy it for what it is. The Snyder cut was entertaining enough, and I quite enjoyed aspects of it - Cyborg is indeed the heart of the film (but I honestly wish it had been explored in his own movie), and Wonder Woman, Aquaman, and the Flash break up the dreary tone.

It was nice to see the Amazons again (and I loved “Amazon’s, show your fear”/“we have no fear”). I like this take on Clark and Lois, even if most of the relationship happens offscreen, and there’s certainly more in the Snyder cut - even if I wish there was greater depth to Clark’s arc in particular, less of the god and more of the man.

I did however notice a pattern in these films in that I was interested/compelled by the first world building/character half, and having my eyes glaze over in the endless action cgi-fest of the second half (I have this issue with Marvel too). And the Snyder cut is indeed endless - it rivals Return of the King for number of endings but is much less cohesive, like Snyder was throwing everything at the wall since this might be his last chance. There’s a nice montage at the end with a bit of hope, and I was thinking well this is a nice uplifting note to end on, thank you! But nope, twenty more minutes of grimdark prophecising (in isolation, an interesting scene, but felt so out of place to show the team torn apart again immediately after we’ve just seen them come back together).

I also lol’d at David Thewlis getting a front credit for what amounted to his cgi face behind a massive helmet. Collect that paycheck, my man!

Coming 2 America - I watched the original as a teenager more times than I can count, truly iconic. Look, I dislike the sequel/reboot/remake merry go round when it dominates the scene, but to be honest I am a sucker for a sequel that’s lovingly made and really just an excuse to get the band back together and have fun. Worth it for the costumes and dance sequences alone (especially the En Vogue/Salt n Pepper/Gladys Knight mashup), but I really enjoyed this overall. There’s nothing groundbreaking and it doesn’t try to be. Was it necessary? No. But did I enjoy it? Absolutely.

Actually, scratch that. The costumes and hair are absolutely necessary.

The Prom (dir. Ryan Murphy) - Now I love a movie musical and this was...fine. It’s sweet and I enjoyed Meryl Streep doing her best Patti Lupone, and Nicole Kidman clearly having fun (even if she can’t Fosse to save her life) although I can’t say I found any of the songs memorable. James Corden, however, is pure cringe for reasons outlined here. But overall it’s light and fluffy, and not a terrible way to spend two hours of your life.

Superstore (seasons 1-6) - I’ve been binging on this for a while, and it’s a fun little show about the employees of a big box store - it’s nice to see America Ferrera back on screen (with producer credit). A great, diverse cast, but MVPs for me are Lauren Ash as Dina (you may recognise her voice as Scorpia from She-Ra), and Kaliko Kauahi as Sandra. While it did touch on some real-world issues - corporation malfeasance, unionisation, etc - ultimately it’s lighthearted and pleasant, especially the series finale that just goes full happy ending with a nice break from grim reality.

Allen v Farrow (dir. Kirby Dick and Amy Ziering) - I’ve never watched a Woody Allen film, and the clips I’ve seen of Woody Allen films haven’t changed my mind on this point. But what struck me seeing the clips of Manhattan in this documentary is just how young Muriel Hemingway was - this is not the Hollywood standard 22 year old playing 17 (which is problematic in other ways) but an actual teenager with a baby face and childlike voice, in bed with a 40+ year old man and I am baffled that this film is so highly regarded - if nothing else it’s right up there on the screen.

But of course there is so much else, which makes this documentary hard to watch at times. To those who have followed these events there’s not much new here, but it does an excellent job of compiling the sources together and giving a timeline of events, as well as refuting many of the pro-Allen arguments, and giving Dylan a chance to speak for herself. There’s also a companion podcast which is worth a listen for added perspective.

Writing

I actually finished something, finally! Posted Debrief, a Smallville one-shot (3920 words). 1670 words done on my other Smallville wip.

Posted chapter 41 of Turn Your Face to the Sun (1865 words). Now that the Obi-Wan show is actually happening, I need to get this finished before it all becomes moot.

Total: 7455 words this month, making 23,962 for the year.

#monthly roundup #reading watching writing #long post

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shinwhoohoo · 3 years

Note

Have you noticed that people are a lot less harsh towards Baro than they are Jinyoung regarding the split? Why do you think this is? Maybe since Jinyoung was the leader ?

Yup, it’s definitely something a lot of us seem to feel. If you wanna waste 15 minutes of your time, you can read my ‘Contract Megapost’ where I literally rant about everything and anything related to the split, though if not (which I’d perfectly understand lmao it’s a LOT) here’s a part I address some thoughts on Baro vs. Jinyoung leaving:

...To take it a step further in my thoughts, I’d also have to be honest and say time has not been as kind to Jinyoung for me as it has been to Baro. By this I mean, initially I felt equally supportive of them both, and respectful in their decisions and paths they chose. While I still respect their choices, and understand full well that they had every right to choose what they did, I suppose my support now, particularly for Jinyoung, has started to falter. I guess the reasons that I felt Baro may have left (i.e., sick of being an idol), seem to coincide with his choice to sign with a non-idol, acting company. Jinyoung’s reasons… don’t seem quite to fit as much. At this point, it seems that he just wanted the power and control that starting and heading a new company would bring. He wants to be able to create the music he wants, without having to necessarily confer with four other members and staff, plus the ability to choose what acting projects he wants, when he wants them. Is it a bit selfish? Yeah, if I’m being honest, I do feel that it is. There was a good possibility he could have haggled with WM enough to be given what he wanted instead of just leaving. But again, he fulfilled the duties he had under his contract with WM, so it is his every right to do what he wants, even if it comes off as transparent.

I think this ‘transparency’ is where my main issues with Jinyoung come in. With every post of his or LINK8′s, every video, every ‘#wewillnotstaysilent’, I just find myself reading right through it. Their motives seem to be very obvious, in wanting to make sure they make it known that they are pushing Jinyoung every single day as much as they can, e.g., giving him the fanmeet very soon after he officially left WM, making him a Season’s Greetings, all the acting gigs he’s been a part of in the few short months they started, the whole ‘J.GROUND’… It’s A LOT. Almost so much, that it can come across as a bit competitive towards WM and A3 in what they post and do. While I hope this isn’t the case as this would just eventually cause more of a divide, there has yet to be any reaching out between the two parties to placate any thoughts over this.

One last point I’d like to make towards Jinyoung and LINK8 is that companies just don’t sprout up (excuse the BANA pun) overnight. Jinyoung didn’t decide to finally leave WM in June, and in the span of a week (or however short of time it was before it was announced he ‘joined’ LINK8) create this new company; he had to have been putting this in the works for months, if not the better part of a year prior to leaving WM. He had to find staff to work with, find a building, create a whole image/vibe he was going for, create and file the name and logo… and a lot more. Even giving him the benefit of the doubt that people approached him, he still would have been involved in getting LINK8 off the ground for quite some time. And, pairing this with the likely idea that he hadn’t told the other members? …Imagine not only find out your leader has decided to leave the company, but has also been putting all his time and resources into creating this entirely new company behind the scenes instead of working to try and keep B1A4 together. I can only speak for myself but shit, I’d be hurt. Again, it is a striking contrast to Baro, who just cleanly left and joined an already established company (whom had likely just approached him around the time of contract negotiations)...

And like I said above, a lot of us just seem to hold this general feeling? I’ve gotten quite a few asks since the split from others about their feelings towards Baro vs. Jinyoung, and the differing harshness in particular, if you want to here what other fans feel too:

[x] [x] [x] [x] [x] [x] [x] [x] [x] [x] [x] [x] [x] ... yeah I’ll stop there 😅 😅

#that's literally only like 2% of the asks about this i didn't even realIZE how many there actually are looking back through my tags lol #b1a4 #baro #jinyoung #text #ask #reply

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sopewriters · 4 years

Text

Mιɳԃ Gαɱҽʂ | 02

Summary: With a murderer prowling the streets, and a charming villain on the loose, all bets are off.

Pairing: Jaehhyun X Reader; Hero x Villain AU

Word Count: 4.9K

Warning(s): None yet.

Previous: 01

“Joker.” His name leaves your parted lips in single breathless whisper.

He grins at you, having heard it anyway, and steps closer. At your side, Mark tenses up. “Right in one. Mind if we had ourselves a little chat?”

You frown, immediately suspicious. Everything in you screams at you not to take the man in front of you lightly, knowing just how tricky he can be; plus, the fact that he’s come to you is really rubbing you the wrong way. Why would a villain ever approach a hero? Or, well, a vigilante, in your case, but your point still stands.

“That depends.” Mark finally answers for you, seeing as how your eyes are still narrowed at Joker’s still form. “What makes you want to talk, all of a sudden?”

“Gravitas.” Joker’s smile grows a little sharper, less cheerful. “Don’t tell me you’re still hung up over what happened last time. You’re the one who ran into that billboard, you know; I really had nothing to do with that one.”

Mark’s body thrums with tension, muscles pulled taut, and despite your terse conversation, you reach out and lay a hand on his shoulder. Getting him strung up right now is a bad idea, especially because he’s usually the one calming you down and there’s nothing in the manual for it happening the other way around.

“Yeah, well, could you get to the point, maybe?” You pull away from Mark, crossing your arms threateningly. “Listening to you beat around the bush like this is really starting to tire me out.”

“Your guy started it first.” Joker says with an exaggerated shrug; mostly for your benefit. “But, if you insist, I’ll move on. You have always been extraordinarily straightforward.”

The muscles of your legs tense as he scrutinizes the two of you, prepared for every possibility if things went south. Joker must like what he sees, because a little smile quirks the corner of his lips, making him look, all too suddenly, very attractive.

You flush immediately at the thought, grateful for the darkness and your shadows for keeping the blush from being visible on your burning cheeks. Where the hell did that come from?

“I’ve been looking into the both of you.” He admits easily, and all thoughts of his appearance fly out the window. “Our last encounter was pretty interesting, even if it was laughably easy – maybe because stupid Gemini didn’t show up, for once.”

Under the feelings of offence that immediately sprout up, you register that he must be talking about Mark’s superhero idol. Based on the way Mark clenches his fists, this is most likely true.

“Yeah, it must be pretty difficult for you, what with him always foiling your plans.” Mark shrugs delicately, voice suddenly cool. It sends a ripple of shockwaves through you because wow, you’ve never heard this tone of voice from him. He’s always been too – too bubbly. Joker must really be pushing his buttons. “I can understand that.”

Joker finally frowns, for the first time tonight, stepping back. And while the sight should fill you with delight, it doesn’t. It makes you feel a little guilty, actually, and you have no idea why.

“I’m starting to see I should’ve thought this through.” He tilts his head slightly, meeting your eyes. Despite how penetrating it is, you do your best to meet his stare unwaveringly; though, admittedly, it’s a lot harder than you thought it’d be. “Maybe I should try and come by again some other time.”

His smirk is sharp enough to cut, but his eyes... they look sad. “For the only competent one of the two of you, obviously. Wouldn’t want to waste my time talking to a stick in the mud.”

With that, he vanishes – yet another illusion. Unlike last time, however, you’re expecting it and, so, don’t bat an eyelash at his sudden disappearance.

Instead, you turn to Mark, finding him clenching his jaw in obvious frustration. You shouldn’t be able to see that even through the mask, but it stands out prominently and, admittedly, has you a little concerned. Why is this bothering Mark so much? You’ve seen him take more serious ribbing with a smile.

At your questioning gaze, Mark’s posture eventually loosens up and he sighs, shaking his head. “I – I’m sorry. I should – I should probably go, huh?”

“Not when I’m the one giving us a lift back.” You raise a brow, perturbed by the sudden 180. “You want to talk about what that was, back there?”

“Not really, no.” Mark’s eyes are beginning to glaze over from the cold breeze. “I don’t know what came over me. It’s just… something about that guy really rubs me the wrong way. Maybe it’s because he doesn’t take anything seriously? It frustrates me that he has the nerve to badmouth J-Gemini when he’s a villain.”

“We’re not really the type to have warm, mushy feelings for the superheroes either,” you point out, though with a sigh you do admit, “I do see your point, though.”

You really only add that last bit for Mark’s benefit. Even though he’d never admit it to you, what he has for Gemini is nothing short of, well, hero worship. And it still doesn’t make sense to you that he’d get that offended over it, what with the constant debates over superheroes on the news. They’ve said worse about Gemini.

Letting his excuse slide for now, you decide to move onto the next most important thing. “What should we do about Joker, though?”

Mark just barely lifts up his mask to rub at his face. “I don’t know. He said he’s going to come to you, didn’t he?”

“He did.” You confirm, worrying your bottom lip between your teeth. “I guess I’ll be fine; he didn’t seem like he was going to try to pull anything stupid.”

“He’s still dangerous.” Mark reminds you, beginning to look a little concerned himself. “Maybe we should ask for help? I know you don’t like involving actual superheroes, but—”

“Then you know my answer.” You say stiffly. “I’ll wait for Joker to contact with me whenever. For now, let’s go find some people to help.”

Your fingers twitch sporadically against their resting spot on your thighs as you force yourself not to think about it – about heroes and their stupid, unwavering morality.

And their mortality.

When Mark moves to say something, you hold up your hand. “You can’t change my mind, so don’t even try. Leave it alone.”

Mark pauses, blinking lightly.

“I was just going to say that I’m looking forward to, uh, beating some people up.” He’s probably smiling timidly at you from behind his mask. “Want to race to see who can stop more crimes tonight?”

Now this is more like it. It provides you with ample distraction – probably enough to last you the rest of the night.

“It won’t be much of a competition if we know who’s going to win.” You grin at him, bad mood almost entirely forgotten. “Meet you at the clock tower in an hour!”

“Oh, it’s on.”

When you slip back into your room, shadows melting away your suit and replacing it with the clothes you were wearing earlier – shorts and a comfortable t-shirt – you immediately chance a glance over your shoulder. There’s no way you could have been followed, what with traveling through the shadows, but you’d rather be safe than sorry.

Besides… ever since you’ve taken up vigilantism, it’s been getting harder and harder to fall asleep. The shadows are your allies, but they seem to creep in on you as you lie in bed, looming tall and making it difficult to breathe. They whisper at you, taunt you; they question everything you’ve done, every choice you’ve made.

Was it really for the best? They murmur into your ears, poison. You could’ve done better. You know you should’ve.

For that reason, you resolutely choose to crawl into bed and not sleep until you can no longer put it off; at least, then, you won’t have to listen to them.

You crack open your laptop, typing in your long, elaborate password – hello, paranoia – before biting your lip. Your cursor, the source of your conundrum, hovers uncertainly over your browser window as your eyes dart between it and the video file you’ve minimized for later.

Said video may or may not have been ripped from the police tape you had, uh, borrowed earlier. It’s not stealing if you’ve given it back.

But the point is… should you? It’s incredibly tempting, to be honest, to just do away with the tape for one night and spend time perusing Netflix instead. The more you think about it, the more you like the idea. Yeah, you should definitely do that.

Satisfied with your apt decision-making, you settle back into your pillows, pulling up Netflix and setting yourself up to marathon the second season of How to Get Away with Murder. It’s going to be a long night, sure – but at least it’s going to be an enjoyable one.

Somewhere through the season, you realize a little blearily that there’s some weird buzzing noise filling the air. Frowning, you reluctantly pause the episode and grope around your bed until you find your phone; funnily enough, it’s pretty much under your butt.

Blinking at the harsh light that comes from your screen, you quickly lower the brightness before actually reading the notification.

Jung Jaehyun, it reads. Regarding Open Lab Positions.

Your eyebrows fly up, and you quickly squash down the sudden excitement that flares up in you; there’s obviously no way he’s sent this email to just you, and you have no idea why you’re getting this worked up over it. You open the email anyway.

Hello all!

As I’m sure you’re aware, Professor Kim has a couple of volunteer lab positions open starting next quarter, if any of you are interested. As she explained at the end of last class, you’ll be starting off with basic jobs – cleaning equipment, etc. – but will slowly work up to actually assisting other researchers – like myself! – with laboratory procedures. If you feel this is something that you could do, please send in your resumé to my email, in a separate thread.

Cheers,

Jaehyun

Holding back a snort at his closing phrase, you evaluate your options.

You’ve worked at a couple of labs before, so you know for a fact that you can do this. It’s just… cleaning things up? You’ve been there and done that and, while you still have to do it even once you’ve worked your way up, that doesn’t mean you want it to be the only thing you do. But, well. Building experience is important, isn’t it?

You ignore the tiny voice in your head that (correctly) informs you that you’re doing this because of Jaehyun. That’s – psh – that’s absolutely ridiculous. Totally.

It’s for your work experience and nothing else, shut up.

You quickly pull up your resumé and give it a lazy once-over – something you would normally never do – because you’re honestly just too tired to give it a deeper glance. Waiting until tomorrow gives your rationality a great opportunity to kick in, which you’re not particularly keen on; plus, you’ll probably give in and ask F/N, who will definitely say no.

You quickly compose a short email saying you’re super interested and would love to join the team; you nearly forget to add the attachment but, thankfully, you end up remembering just as you’re about to send it.

There. You’ve done it. You’ll probably regret it in the morning, but… you’ve done it, and that’s what matters, obviously.

Sighing, you put away your laptop. You’re tired enough to fall asleep now, you think, and a cup of coffee in the morning will fix whatever lingering regrets this burning the night oil has left you with.

It turns out that not even a cup of coffee can help your mood this morning. And it’s not just because of the idiotic decision you made last night either.

“Did you hear?” F/N accosts you first thing, latching onto your arm as you take your first sip of salvation. “About what happened last night?”

You squint at her, taking in her pale face, trembling lips. “No, and I don’t particularly care. I have a 9am to go to, so if—”

“There was a murder.” The words die on your tongue, the bitterness of coffee all-too-suddenly exploding in your mouth when F/N meets your eyes, serious. “Last night, someone was murdered.”

You nearly drop your cup, setting it down faintly. “What?”

“Yeah.” F/N worries her bottom lip, glancing off to the side, looking decidedly pale. “There are pictures all over the internet. There were even some on our school’s SNS, but they’re being taken down as soon as they’re popping up.”

“And?” Your eyes are wide, but you’re giving this your full attention, headache be damned.

F/N exhales through her teeth. “It… it wasn’t pretty. They’re saying that the victim was dead after the first strike – but there are so many wounds on him… stab wounds, but not from a knife.”

She looks vaguely sick as she recalls this and you figure it has to be a really gruesome sight, if it’s unsettling her this much. You’re starting to feel a little nauseous yourself as you realize you were out for a good part of the night – and you didn’t see anything happen.

“Which sector was it in?” You ask hurriedly. “Did they say who did it?”

“Our sector.” She confirms your worst fears and fuck, fuck, fuck, you should’ve – you should’ve been there, should’ve been able to do something. “And, they think… well. Hold on.”

She hurriedly pulls out her phone, pulling up a news site as your heart thunders loudly in your ears, before showing you an image of the victim.

Your eyes grow wide, not at the smears of blood that stain the women’s skin – nor the angry, deep wounds littering her throat – but at the patch of burnt flesh right above her left breastbone. A vivid, elaborate J.

“Joker…” You breathe out horrified, head spinning at the implications. “What – but – no, that doesn’t make sense!”

“I thought so too, but it’s his mark and everything!” F/N looks just as anxious as you feel. “It’s exactly like the one on his calling card and, and – and—”

“And what?” You snap harshly when she flounders, before horror rushes through you. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to snap at you!”

“I know, it’s okay. This is pretty… disturbing.” It is, but not for the reasons she’s thinking. F/N swallows before adding, softly. “They think something must have pissed Joker off pretty bad that he – that he resorted to this.”

“That doesn’t even make any sense.” You stare in disbelief at her. You might not know Joker pretty well, but isn’t this just too much? “He’s – he’s just a thief! A mastermind criminal, to be fair, but he’s never murdered people before.”

“Well, people change, don’t they?” F/N says, matter-of-fact. “I’m not saying I believe he’s done this, but… what if he has?” She begins to look a little pale again at the implication, and shakes her head. “I think I’m going to take a breather. I’ll catch you after classes.”

You can’t find it in you to respond, mind whirling with the possibilities. What F/N said is stuck in your head, on a dizzying loop.

What if, what if, what if, what if he has, what if—

What if Joker’s the one who really did it? Your hands tremble as you realize that this happened last night; that too, after he came to see you and Mark. You tuck your fingers into fists as you desperately wrack your brain for any signs you could’ve noticed to prevent this. Was he shaky, pale in any way? Was he behaving erratically?

You bite the inside of your cheek in frustration when you realize there’s no way you could know; you’re not – you’re not acquainted enough with Joker for that. Fucking damn it, damn it, then why’d he come to see you? To ask for help… help doing what? Murdering someone?

That doesn’t sound—

“Hey, uh, could you maybe move? You’re kind of in the way.”

You blink at the sudden interruption, eyes growing wide as you register a weight on your shoulders – your backpack – and the chilliness of the breeze against your skin. You’re outside? Another glance tells you that you’re right outside your lecture hall and that, yes, you really are blocking the way.

You stumble aside, breaths stuttering in your chest as you realize you have no idea how the fuck you got here, but. Maybe you just zoned out? That’s got to be it. Yeah, that sounds about right.

Mentally shaking yourself, you start walking into class, wondering how on earth you managed to think so hard about the Joker problem that you didn’t even notice walking all the way to class. You wouldn’t put it past yourself; sometimes you get really lost in thought. Still, you shouldn’t be as preoccupied as you are about this. There’s just something… something about it that begs for your attention.

You snap yourself back to attention as your professor walks into the room.

“We’re going to be starting on the subject of Icarus – and his fall.” He claps his had together cheerfully, pulling up the appropriate slide on the projector. Finally. “Pay attention guys; you’re going to want to, trust me, because your paper on this is going to count for 15% of your grade.”

That certainly warrants some serious focus, and you adjust yourself in your seat, new document sat ready for you to type some pretty detailed notes into your laptop.

Your professor smirks at the rustling that fills the room, as everyone panics and hurries to do what he’s asked. “Great. So, as always, we aren’t going to read the whole thing out in class – that’s for your TA to do – but we’ll discuss the key ideas that crop up throughout…”

You try to pay attention, you really do, but it’s not your fault that your professor’s voice is so sleep-inducing (though it is your fault for also not getting a full eight hours in last night like you were supposed to).

Your eyes flutter weakly, finally drifting shut.

You dream of hands. The run up along your sides, gentle even as they caress you – before their grip tightens by a fraction. Something warm curls over the skin of your throat as teeth graze over your shoulder. Your own hands come up to cradle his head as he mouths at the juncture of your shoulder, hot and insistent – and you tilt your head back, encouraging him.

“You’ve always been so beautiful.” The reverence in his tone lights a fire under your skin, in between your legs. “My darling Nyx, so fucking gorgeous.”

You don’t get to answering him, because his fingers are slipping between your thighs to caress your clit gently, making you gasp and arch into the touch. He feels so good, familiar in the way his free hand rubs circles into your hip as he slowly takes you apart on his fingers.

“Please…” The words fall from your lips easily, and you cant your hips desperately, aching to have his fingers inside of you already.

“You’re so wet for me, sweetheart.” There’s a smirk in his voice – you could recognize it in your sleep. “Look at you, absolutely stunning. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were a slut for my cock.”

His fingers pull aside your underwear, finally dipping into your hole. Sweet, sweet relief courses through you as the heat in your veins grows unbearable, and you spread your legs wider, trying to encourage him to touch you more, take you – every part of you, anything he wants.

“Ah, I forgot.” He sounds smug, but he’s still so incredibly hot, even as he retracts his fingers, making a choked whine catch in your throat. “You are a slut for it, aren’t you? You’re even trying to ride my fingers, you’re so desperate.”

He’s right, he always is. You don’t care anymore for your pride or your dignity – you just need his hands on you, his mouth, his fingers, his cock. You need all of him.

“You make it so fucking hard to hold back.” He growls upon seeing your eyes dilate in pleasure, pinching your clit and allowing a strangled moan to escape your throat. “Shh now, darling; wouldn’t want to get caught, now, would we?”

“C-Caught?” You whimper as he catches your skin with his teeth, gently tugging at it, marking you – like you’re his, you think a little deliriously. “W-What?��

He pulls back then, though you fruitlessly try to pull him close again; as he does, his features are slowly illuminated by the light of the moon, highlighting his pink lips, strong jaw, piercing eyes and—

You jolt up when the girl sitting next to you clears out her desk, letting it retract into her seat with a loud bang. Your breathing’s a little quick, sweat beginning to dot your neck, and you have an uncomfortable ache between your legs. If you were alone, you’d waste no time in touching yourself to get the edge off – you’re so close – but you can’t, and it is excruciating.

Discretely, you rub your thighs together, praying to whatever higher power is up there that you can actually stand on your feet without collapsing. You duck your head, hoping no one can see your flaming cheeks. You feel so dirty, dreaming something like – something like that in the middle of class. You really need to get out of here, maybe get some air.

You quickly shove your things into your bag, clambering to your feet and booking it out of the lecture hall; hey, you haven’t tripped even once. Your heart pounds in your chest as you try to figure out who the fuck it was in your dream, who took you apart so beautifully. Despite its inconvenient timing, your dream was actually really hot, and you’re lowkey regretting waking up.

It’s just… it all felt so real. And you really want to figure out who this mystery person is, so that you can at least gush to F/N about it. Maybe it’s one of your numerous celebrity crushes?

Your cheeks heat as you consider the thought in your head briefly, before shaking your head. No, something about that seems wrong. The familiarity in their movements, gestures, isn’t something you could just replicate in your head off a movie star or something. It’s someone you’ve at least met in real life, if not someone you know well.

The thought disturbs you a little, so you resolve to living in denial; you have no idea who this mystery man is, and that’s fine. Totally fine.

You have a discussion for one of your Gen Ed. classes now, but you don’t really plan on going. There’s no way you could possibly concentrate, with where you’re at and, quite honestly, you don’t feel like. It’s a really stupid class anyway, and you’re honestly taking it only for an easy A.

Your phone buzzes in your pocket, making you jolt, and you fish it out, checking your home screen for the notification. And, oh, it’s Jaehyun.

A smile creeps onto your lips, entirely of its own volition.

Re: Open Lab Positions

Hey ______!

I was thrilled to receive your application despite a couple of typos I spotted in the actual email you sent me. Don’t panic! I saw your timestamp – you sent it around 3AM, I believe – and I have been where you are right now. I’m not judging you for it.

Unfortunately—

Your throat closes up here, but you force yourself to keep reading. Might as well rip off the band aid, even if it makes you bleed worse.

Unfortunately, I’m required to forward your email and resumé after I’ve accepted them to the professor, which is why I want to ask you to send in another email – this time after some proof-reading, of course. I’d love to have you on our team, and I’m sure the professor will agree once she sees your resumé. Does that work for you?

If it does, please make sure to do this by no later than 7pm today. I look forward to working with you!

- Jung Jaehyun

“Oh my god.” You nearly walk into your apartment door as you shakily read over the email. You applied on a total off chance; you didn’t think it would actually work and land you the job! Honestly, the only thing that could make this better is if you’d get paid for it too, but that’s probably a bit of a stretch.

You hastily type in your entry code, swinging open the door with much gusto and speeding to your room. You don’t run into your other roommate, which is great, really; you probably wouldn’t have paid them much mind. Hell, you might not even have paid F/N much attention, and she’s the love of your life.

You quickly pull out your laptop, barely remembering to shrug off your backpack so you can type properly. You read over it a few times, to be sure, before sending it to Jaehyun with a happy little noise escaping the back of your throat. This is super exciting – you don’t think you’ve ever been this excited.

And okay, yeah, maybe you don’t have a chance to be with Jaehyun. Scratch that, there’s probably no way you could ever do that. Jaehyun’s pretty much a God among men, and no one can change your mind about that. Still, spending time near him would be fun and, well, educational, if nothing else.

Letting out a happy sigh, you settle in your bed, drawing the covers tightly around yourself. With that, you’re feeling pretty great about yourself, which is a welcome change, and nothing could possibly ruin the rest of your day. You don’t even have to patrol tonight – it’s Mark’s turn to slug the night away on his own.

Now that you have nothing in particular to do – and a whole three hours to kill before your next class – your mind wanders. Absently reaching out a hand, you twist the shadows falling in the corner of your room into intricate shapes, smiling wryly when you unconsciously replicate Joker’s mask. You’ve only met him once and he’s already made quite the impact on you, hasn’t he?

You remember, then, that Joker is a murder suspect. That the smiling, playful man you met only yesterday is a cold-blooded killer, one who’s taken innocent lives. It’s – it’s fucked up, is what it is. You’ve actually conversed with a murderer, and that’s a chilling thought.

A tremor wracks through you.

You click open the video file you were supposed to look at last night; the copy you took from the police. In it, Joker’s slinking quietly in the shadows cast by the house’s impressive figure, back pressed to the wall before he darts inside, lightning-quick. There’s no sound, but there doesn’t seem to be any sort of commotion either.

Joker darts back out again, just as quick, but you now know that’s just an illusion meant to throw everyone off his trail. The real Joker is still inside the house, possibly searching for some more items to steal… but you don’t know where he exits from. The camera that monitors the back of the house doesn’t catch anything of substance either; only a clumsy raccoon that knocks over a trashcan.

“Where the hell did you go…?” You wonder quietly to yourself, watching both the tapes again, still finding nothing. Maybe he used a blind spot? Or was it something else?

A little investigation into the matter wouldn’t hurt now, would it? Standing up, you figure: ah, why the hell not. To hell with your day off. While Mark’s keeping an eye out for people needing help, you can do the grunt work for this particular case. Something tells you Joker’s sudden inclination for murder isn’t actually all that sudden.

There must be more.

You shut your laptop, shoving it back into your backpack. You still have time for your next class, but you should probably make yourself a decent lunch; you aren’t sure whether dinner’s still in the cards, not when you have a (half-developed) plan in mind.

Starting your investigation from when he’s supposedly committed his last ‘normal’ crime is going to help you. Maybe you can track what he’s probably done since then, or, at the very least, figure out his method of operating. Whatever the case, you’re going to figure it out, no matter how terrified you are. He’s a known murderer, pretty much, and that means – regardless of the truth – you’ll have to treat him carefully.

Maybe, if you’re lucky – or not – you’ll even get to meet Joker himself. You aren’t sure if you really want to, at this point, but you’ll take whatever you can. You’re grasping at straws as it is; you can afford to do whatever you must to crack down on this.

Tonight, you vow to yourself. Tonight, I’m going to get to the bottom of this.

Next: 03

#kwritersworldnet #kreativewritersnet #nctwritersnet #nct #nct jaehyung #nct jung jaehyun #jaehyun smut #jaehyun angst #villain jaehyun #jung jaehyun series #jung jaehyun smut #jung jaehyun angst #jung jaehyun #nct series

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whatdidimissjm · 4 years

Text

Jamilton Month Day 2 - Roll/Gender Swap

When Alex wakes up, he is confused about where he is. He´s not in his bedroom, even though he has vivid memories of going to sleep there last night. Had he been kidnapped? That seems unlikely, because he is still able to move. He sits up and looks around the room. He is sitting in the middle of a nightmare of magenta. It looks just like he´d imagine Jefferson´s bedroom would look like… did Jefferson kidnap him?

He jumps up, about to go look for whoever is responsible for him being here, when he catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror, only, it´s not his face that´s staring back at him, but Jefferson´s. He instantly touches his face and hair, his mirror-self doing the same. True to what he´s seeing, it´s not his face and hair under his fingers.

This has to be a dream. This is impossible.

He slowly walks over to the mirror, touching the cold surface, while watching Jefferson doing the same. He spends a few minutes just staring at himself as Jefferson in the mirror, before a sudden thought strikes him; if he´s in Jefferson´s body, does that mean Jefferson is in his?

He storms out of the room and down the hallway, at first taking a wrong path, before he finds the stairs. He is about to leave the house, when one of the servants catches up with him.

“Mister Secretary, sir, don´t you want to put on some clothes before going out?”, he asks, and Alex looks down at Jefferson´s body.

He is just wearing a thin shirt and underpants, his feet bare. Reluctantly he returns to the bedroom, looking through Jefferson´s wardrobe. Why can´t he own normal clothes? After a bit of searching, Alex finds a more or less simple black suit, that he puts on. He hates to admit it, but Jefferson does have a nice body, and if he lets his hands explore a bit more than necessary, well, no one needs to know.

Once he has put on the clothes, he makes his way downstairs again. He is glad that no one tries to stop him this time, even though a few of the servants regard him with worried glances. Maybe it wasn´t the smartest course of action to not wear something as extravagant as Jefferson usually does, but he really couldn´t care less about that right now.

He hurries down the street, glaring at everyone who even looks remotely like they might try to talk to him. This might be bad for Jefferson´s reputation, but that will only benefit him later, when they have managed to fix this again. For a second a thought comes to his mind that they won´t be able to fix this – whatever this is – but he discards it again. It won´t do him any good if he panics now.

The walk to his own house feels like hours, even though he knows that it´s been barely twenty minutes. His hand shakes when he reaches out to knock and he takes a steadying breath, willing himself to remain calm. He waits for a few seconds and knocks again when the door doesn´t get opened.

“Jefferson, open the goddamn door!”, he hisses, which earns him confused looks from some passers-by.

He waits another minute, until he picks up the key, he has hidden underneath a flowerpot, and unlocks the door, stepping into the house. He takes the familiar path to his bedroom, guessing that Jefferson will be there. Alex thinks about knocking on the bedroom door, but immediately shakes his head at the thought. He will definitely not knock on any door in his own house, least of all on his bedroom door. He opens it and stops when he sees himself sitting on the bed.

He knew what he would see, but that didn´t prepare him for actually seeing himself sitting there. It feels like a dream or if he´s going insane, both sounding like more reasonable explanations than what´s actually happening.

“Thomas?”, he asks quietly, a slight tremble in his voice, that´s not at all his own voice.

The man on the bed turns around to him, his face pale, and Alex can see tear tracks on his cheeks.

“Alexander?”, Thomas asks.

It feels like another punch, hearing his own voice, that doesn´t quite sound like his own.

Alex doesn´t know what he was expecting, but it wasn´t Thomas getting up and hurrying over to throw his arms around him. He doesn´t react at first, until he carefully brings his arms around Thomas.

“I am really tiny.”, Alex says to break the awkward silence, but Thomas doesn´t seem to hear him.

“I didn´t know. I didn´t know any of it, oh my god.”

It sounds like he is crying, and once again Alex gets reminded of how surreal this whole situation is.

“What didn´t you know?”, he asks softly.

“Your mother. John. Eliza. I´m so sorry. I didn´t know any of it. How can you live with it?”

It feels like a slap in the face, hearing his names of his dead lovers, and he pushes Thomas away, taking a few steps back.

“What are you talking about?”

Thomas looks at him confused, opening and closing his mouth a few times, like he is trying to find the right words.

“Don´t… don´t you have all my memories too?”, he asks.

It takes a moment for Alex to fully grasp what Thomas just has said and what that means. He backs off further, until his back hits the wall and he is forced to stop.

“You have all my memories?”, Alex asks, his voice flat and almost toneless.

Thomas nods.

“You don´t?”

Alex shakes his head, swallowing.

“I don´t.”

Thomas just stares at him for a moment.

“So you don´t know that I…”, he stops, looking down at his hands.

“I don´t know what?”, Alex asks absentmindedly.

He is far too distracted by worrying about everything Thomas has just found out about him. He watches Thomas wearily as he walks over to him. Alex is about to ask what Thomas is doing, when he reaches up and cups his face. Alex´ breath catches and then Thomas is kissing him. For a moment he freaks out, until he melts into the kiss, his hands curling around Thomas´ waist, pulling him closer.

“I´ve wanted to do that for ages.”, Thomas breathes, when they have to part again.

Alexander still feels like his head is spinning, but he is glad that he isn´t the only one who´s out of breath.

“Kiss yourself? I always knew you are narcissistic and-“, Thomas kisses him again, successfully shutting him up.

“No, you asshole. I´ve wanted to kiss you for ages.”, Thomas says, his voice soft, despite his harsh words.

“Oh.”

“And now I know, you´ve wanted this too.”

Alex smiles shyly and leans forward to kiss Thomas again. He feels lightheaded and like he´s floating, his head still spinning. When he opens his eyes again, he looks up into the deep brown one´s of Thomas, the real Thomas, and not the one in his body.

“What-?”, he asks at the same time as Thomas says: “Too bad, I was looking forward to fucking myself, but you will do too.”

Alex groans.

“You are such an asshole.”

Thomas laughs, but there is still some sadness left in his eyes, when he looks at Alex.

“I really want you.”, Thomas says softly. “I want this.”

Alex is silent for a moment, not sure what to do. He had promised himself to never let anyone come close again, but here Thomas is, knowing everything about him and still wanting him.

“You really want me?”, he asks quietly.

He has to be sure. He doesn´t know if he could take another heartbreak.

“I do.”

Alex still hesitates a moment, searching Thomas´ face for a lie. When he doesn´t find one, he lets out a shaky breath.

“Are you sure?”

“I am.”

“Okay.”

#jamilton #jamiltonmonth2020 #jamilton month #thomas jefferson #alexander hamilton #hamilton #hamilton musical #hamilton fic #my fics #my writing #mine

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bathroombreaks · 4 years

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gg 1x01 rewatch

the questions are from @pynkhues, you can find them here.

1. What was your favourite scene of the episode? Tell us why!

oooh it’s def the scene where the girls are getting ready to rob fine & frugal. i just find it hilarious that they’re about to rob a store and they’re talking about how their kids are doing in school?? like, what absolute lunatics!! and i think it sets up their dynamic very well right from the beginning, idk. everyone’s always saying that the three girls have a very lived-in chemistry and i agree and i think you can feel it right from this first scene of them together

2. Was there any scene that missed the mark for you? And if so, how?

idk?? i��m very bad at reading and watching things critically, i’m very easy to please, i think?? and this ep just makes me pleased as punch!! but i guess that the scene with beth and amber, while funny, doesn’t really hit the mark for me?? idk, the way she’s framed as a “beautiful dummy” and not as much at fault as dean kind of irks me. i totally get that dean is the married one, but amber clearly knew he was married and somewhat regularly saw his wife, i don’t think she should really be absolved of that. and, idk, i don’t like that she basically got a prize for cheating - like, “here, you helped my husband cheat on me, so take some money to go live your dreams” is such a weird response?? beth was very scathing in the delivery and i get the point was for amber to be out of their lives but, like, still?? why not just tell dean he has to fire her?? this just further proves that beth is an idiot and an absolute lunatic, which we already knew

3. Let’s talk about the Big 6 Character Intros – Beth, Ruby, Annie, Dean, Stan, Rio. What did you think? What did you like? What did you dislike?

oooh i really liked all of them!!!

i absolutely love annie’s, it’s so fun with the car speeding and then with her banter with ben. i love the way they set up their dynamic right from the get go!!

and then ruby and stan’s intro was also amazing!! you get right away that they love each other so much and are so supportive of each other!! the way they both gesture when sara is talking about the women standing next to the men is so cute!!! i love it!!

rio’s is also amazing, he’s a snarky little bitch right from the get go and they really did a great job of also surprising us, thanks to the camera angle, and really driving home that he’s the boss.

i think the one i liked the least is actually beth and dean’s?? i mean, they do a good job of immediately letting you know that beth is the overworked mother and dean is the lazy, good-for-nothing husband - i mean, she’s running around, taking care of everything, and then he just strolls in and asks the kids to go to the car, without even having his tie done. but i think it’s a little misleading and i think it’s one of the reasons why the fandom (including myself) maybe has a harder time accepting beth staying with dean (aside from the fact that dean is a fucking asshole and he deserves nothing less than a horrible death, i mean)?? it really sticks in your mind this contempt she seems to have for him?? and, of course, then you get the flashback to beth getting waxed for him, and so you understand that they were maybe going through a bit of a rough patch but she wanted to work through it, but what sticks in your mind is that first scene, where she’s full of contempt, not even able of saying a perfunctory i love you back. and since they seem to want to drag out the boland marriage as much as possible, i think they kind of failed there.

4. Ruby tells Stan to fix the damn door! Is Stan an amazing handyman? A terrible one???

i think stan is anywhere from ok to amazing, they’re just so overworked that he hasn’t had time?? idk, paired with the fact that he says he’s pulling a double at the beginning of the ep and that it doesn’t seem to be a new or uncommon thing, it just reads to me like a thing he really does want to take care of at some point but hasn’t found the time to do yet

5. Do you think Beth, Ruby or Annie had a way out of their individual financial situations that didn’t involve crime?

in short: nope. in long:

ruby and stan are desperate. they mention stan’s parents at some point, but i assume they just don’t have the money to help them?? and, i mean, they’re both working double shifts and they mention that they’ve had their gofundme page up for years. i think if they had any other way they absolutely would’ve already taken it, for sara’s sake.

we can assume from the flashbacks we get in 2x08 that annie and beth didn’t have as stable a home life as all that. i assume that either their parents are both now dead or they just have no communication with them. either way, they don’t have them as a safety net.

when it comes to annie, she’s working a minimum wage job, driving a very shitty car and her kid’s laptop has been broken for a month without her being notified, because said kid knows they don’t have the money to get a knew one. she does ask for help from the richest person the girls know later (that’s how i think they phrased?? i’m pretty sure), her ex, who promptly says no. so, yeah, it’s safe to say she doesn’t have a way out of her financial situation either.

and, in regards to beth, i think she would absolutely help ruby (and annie) if she could. so the fact that she doesn’t, paired with the fact that we get mentions later that this is not the first time dean has managed to basically bankrupt the car dealership, makes me assume that either the bolands were living close to paycheck to paycheck, but stable enough that she didn’t worry, or that she did think they had some spare money and did give that to them when she could?? because i don’t see how she would not give ruby the money for sara, if she thought she had it, especially when she does it later in the season.

so, no, i don’t really think any of the girls had safety nets or ways to get out of their financial situation. except for beth. she could’ve gotten a job. i know it would’ve been hard because of her lack of work experience, but she could’ve at least tried instead of immediately jumping to robbery!!

6. Is Beth’s backsplash dope? Or was Rio just being a dick??

both!! i mean, i personally like the backsplash, but rio was absolutely just being an asshole, whether or not he did believe it was dope had nothing to do with it.

7. Five major story locations were set up this episode – Ruby’s house, Beth’s house, Annie’s apartment, as well as Fine & Frugal and Boland Motors. Was there anything that jumped out for you about these locations in this episode? Do you think that they were well established given what happens in each across the course of the series?

ok so i don’t know enough about like tv shows and storylines and all that stuff to answer this, i’m sorry. but, like, i think it’s very cool that fine & frugal is robbed in the first and last episodes of season 1, it’s a fun full-circle type of thing, and i love that we’re introduced to boland motors via dean’s affair and beth’s destruction of it because it’s something that permeates the place throughout the whole time?? i mean, beth later “borrows“ one of the cars, rio smashes the corvette because of beth, it gets raided by the fbi because of beth’s illegal activities - beth is always destroying it, even when she’s not literally destroying something like in that first episode. and in season 2 we have beth fully realising just how deep dean’s betrayal was in the middle of the boland motors showroom. both of those things are always there!! it’s cool. and saying that, i mean, they kind of went the same route with boland bubbles, if you think about it?? we get dean cheating on her there, her fully realising how deep his betrayal is via gayle’s comments and then her clearly robbing the place?? boland bubbles really is just a continuation of boland motors

8. We met lots of supporting characters this episode too – in particular Boomer, Baby Tyler, Amber and Greg. Based off of what we saw of them in this episode, pick one, and tell us what you think!

i love baby tyler and amber!! i love that we’re introduced to baby tyler being all smiley and y’know a little bit ridiculous eating ice cream while on the job and maybe obviously inept because of it. and maybe you expect him to not do anything during the robbery because of that but then he really tries?? he thinks he’s facing off with 3 armed criminals and he really goes for it, he doesn’t cower like boomer!! he’s adorable!! and amber i already talked about and i know i was a bit harsh but i really do love her!! her oblivious comments are gold.

9. Screenshot and/or tell us about your favourite character look~ this episode.

frankly, this ep doesn’t really have any stand out looks for me?? the one exception is annie’s outfit when she picks up ben in the porsche. you can really tell how happy she is that she could one up nancy, that she’s proud of herself because she’s gonna get to give ben the laptop he needs.

10. This episode gives us some sharp character notes on Beth, Ruby and Annie – from Beth’s capacity for violence to Ruby’s visceral anger around being ignored, particularly when it comes to her daughter’s wellbeing, to Annie’s tendency to run a mile when given an inch. Is there a moment that stood out to you, particularly in light of future seasons?

ohhh i mean, there’s something to be said about beth’s capacity for violence uh? she keeps refusing to acknowledge it, because that doesn’t fit her stepford wife without a pulse image as annie calls it, but it’s always there - she’s always ready to blow up and throw some keys at your face. and ruby’s response to being ignored kind of screws her over?? she was very lucky jt only wanted her address for his nephew and didn’t become a second mary pat. idk, i’m sorry. like i said, not very good at critical thinking.

#stfu #txt #ggrewatch2020 #gg #nbc good girls #good girls nbc #omg this took me so long to write!!#also i didn't really understand the speed round which is why i ignored it.#when i see how other people do it i'll start doing it too

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shamelessmakerhumaneggs-blog · 3 years

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A Ninjago Au Story

The world that we live in has rules for us to follow, roles assigned for us to fulfill. If we refuse to follow the rules or choose to stray from the roles we were handed, Life herself chooses our fate. There was something that broke up the tension of doing things right, and that was the soulmate system.

When we come to the age of 17 we meet our soulmate. Though we don't know that the person we meet is the person we spend the rest of our lives with. Instead we each get an object that fits together like a puzzle. My life has been quite dull since the moment I was born. The role I was handed was one I wished to change. I was one of the people to have less, to not have the luxury of others.

I was born on the streets, in a dingy alleyway. I was handed the role of a homeless girl. The rules I have quickly learned. Stealing was not a way to get what I needed or desired to have. I only get it through hard work and those who are nice enough to help. I eventually lost my father to these rules, Life seeing as he stole to help provide for us and taking him away with an illness we couldn't get help for. I felt different though, not one to be held down by what I was given, only to make my world better with what I had.

When I was younger I didn't care for my safety or own well being, I cared about others and I did it because I cared, I didn't do it for a reward or for greed. One day when I had turned 10 I was visited by Life in all her beauty in the forest when I went to walk. She spoke with her eyes, and rewarded me for my goodness. She gave me the power to do good for others, to share what gifts I had to help others. One condition was to tell no one about this, some could try the same because of the power they wanted to wield.

That was what happened, let's get to present day, yes?

I watched over the city from atop a building I had climbed, bare feet dangling high above the ground and fresh night wind curling it's fingers through my hair. I wasn't really afraid of the long drop, only fascinated by the beauty of the view. Night had fallen a hour or two ago. The size too small leggings and large dirty hoodie were what I wore but I didn't care, it was warm and I was grateful I even had clothes.

I pulled my hand from my pocket and let the power fall from my palm. I held my hand to the skies and focused. Soon falling stars zoomed across the sky. I smiled at the sky, the scene reflecting in my e/c eyes like a mirror. I took a deep breath and looked across the city. My interest was peaked at something and I stood up to get a better look.

I wasn't know for smarts though-

My feet lost grip and I stumbled right over the edge, letting out a yelp as I fell. Now I was scared of the height. I screamed out and closed my eyes, waiting for either broken bones or a quick death. I luckily got none. A hand gripped at my wrist and my hand instinctively grabbed the person's wrist. I was yanked up and seated on something, eyes opening as I felt the wind rush against my body. What the hell? I was riding on a what looked like a dragon, a person in white in front of me. I gripped onto them for dear life, heart beating wildly in my chest.

The beast landed in an alley that was barely wide enough. The person hopped off before looking at me, extending a hand for me. I took it and was helped back to solid ground. I looked to the dragon and it suddenly poofed, particles of coldness dissipated and there was no longer a dragon. I was beyond confused. "You alright miss?" I turned back to the person, assuming it was a man because of the voice, and nodded silently.

"What just happened?" I asked dumbfounded. He gave a chuckle before explaining. I ooh'd and nodded. So this dude was a ninja, and had powers. Was I dumb? I have never heard of him. "I have never heard of ninjas in the city." I stated. "My team and I are secretive most the time." I hummed in acknowledgement. "You going to be okay walking home?" He asked, concern laced over his voice. "Yeah. I'll be fine."

He, from what I could tell, smiled and summoned his dragon once more. I looked at the white scales, icy blue accents and piercing blue eyes. I grinned and gave a pat to the dragons muzzle before waving goodbye to the ninja. Okay, from now on be more careful when on a building, don't be dumb again. I took the two mile walk back to familiar territory. I waved to all the people I grew up with, all happy to talk and share a piece of food they were able to get.

Eventually I reached where my mother and I were stationed. I settled down on top of the dirtied blanket and laid down, my head resting on my mother's lap. She looked down at me and smiled, placing a hand on my head and smoothing my hair back. I sighed as she continued talking with Henry, my street uncle. I closed my eyes and let my body relax, soothing movements of my mom lure me to sleep.

The next week I learned a few things about the ninja. They were a secretive bunch and I could sorta understand why. They protected the land, kept others safe and I loved it. They did have powers which got me thinking, If they had powers not like any other human, could I be a ninja? Nah, I doubt it. I sighed and hugged myself tighter. It was getting colder and from what I already knew it was going to be another hard winter. I didn't want it to be.

Looking down to my feet as I got to a more secluded spot in the city I spotted something laying on the ground. I tilted my head and kneeled down, curiosity causing me to grab and hold the thing. It was a chain necklace with a charm on the bottom. Looking closer it looked to be a half. It was a Yin, a small magnet on the inside of the piece. Something told me to take it so I did. I put it on and continued with my walk, confused as to why I seemed so drawn to the necklace.

Getting to my destination I stopped and knocked on a door. I was greeted by an elderly man and from what I guessed was his grandson. I gave a polite hello and was returned by a smile. "Hello Mr. Olive. My mother told me you had something for us today." He stepped aside and opened the door a bit more. "Ah, yes. Please come in." I entered the home, warmth encapsulating me like a blanket. Walking to the kitchen I was met with four dozen prepped meals accompanied with plastic silverware.

"Oh Mr. Olive, you didn't have to do this much." I smiled as I looked to the steaming meals. I was almost brought to tears. "Nonsense Y/n. I am more than happy to help out any of you in any way I can." I got choked up and let a tear fall. This man was the nicest person on the planet, kind and wise. He started to stack the meals and I helped out, Christopher, his grandson, helping pack the meals into the car.

As soon as all meals were put in the car along with lots of water and new blankets for the winter, we all set out to where most of us were living. Music played on the radio and I hummed along. The rest of the afternoon was handing out everything, making sure the kids who shared the same fate had good jackets as well. I loved helping out and being around those that helped. Seeing something like this happen brings the community together and it felt amazing to see people get hot meals, full stomachs and bond.

Once I said goodbye and headed on my own I found mom and sat next to her. We both shared a meal and talked together. She asked a question regarding the necklace I had found and I explained to her. She immediately had a huge smile on her face, giving a hug. I asked why she was so happy and turns out, I just got my object. I was happy as well, knowing that I was capable of being in a relationship with someone.

The rest of the night I imagined who I could've bumped into, who was my soulmate? With a good meal in my stomach I quickly fell asleep.

"Hello." I curiously turned my head to see who had said the greeting. I couldn't help but smile as the white ninja himself greeted me. He kneeled down with a styrofoam container held in his gloved hand. "Hello mister. How are you?" I greeted back in a playful manner. I took the container he offered and he sat down completely in front of me. "My team and I came by to hand out a few things to those in need. The winter is going to be harsh this year so we decided to help out."

I smiled and gave thanks as he handed me a plastic spoon. He held up a finger as he got up, excusing himself to do something. I watched him jog off and give a few people some waves. He approached who I guessed was his team mate who handed him a blanket. The ninja was handing them out to everyone. He jogged back and sat back down in front of me. With a mouth full of hot soup I quickly swallowed as he unfolded the blanket and put it around me. "Heh, thanks. It's really nice." I shyly thanked, he scratching the back of his neck and looking to the side.

"My team and I actually knitted them for everyone yesterday." I smiled and set my soup down and took both his hands in mine, grabbing his attention and catching his eyes in mine. "Thank you. You are all too kind." Looking down with a wide adoring smile, a certain feeling bloomed in my chest.

After a night filled of talking and getting to know each other better, we sadly had to part ways.

"I'm sorry but I must go for patrol." I gave a small pout. "Alright. If you must. But promise to visit me sometime else alright? I enjoyed talking to you." I really hoped he'd say yes. "Of course, but I can not promise it to be soon." I gave a smirk. "A simple yes would suffice." He chuckled and let go of my hand before bowing. "Until next time, Y/N" I chuckled as he laughed, running off before meeting with his team and leaving.

I turned back to my mother who had a smug smile on her face, arms crossed. I looked to her confused. "What?" She just giggled. "Ohh, nothing." I just shook my head and settled down to go to sleep. I was quite tired but my brain wouldn't stop thinking about the white ninja. It was stupid and cliché but it was true.

'^~•Three Months Later•~^'

"Where are we going?" I asked as I stumbled on a rock, his arm wrapping around my waist to keep me from falling as he chuckled, I have a feeling it was at my clumsiness. "Someplace fun, I promise." I sighed and crossed my arms, still blind from his hand covering my eyes. "Look, you better not murder me or I will haunt you for the rest of your life." He laughed at that, easily amused by my serious tone.

"Alright. I'm going to let go but keep your eyes closed alright? It's a surprise for a reason." I grinned before giving my word. "Alright. I won't look." I closed my eyes and his hands left my face. I stood as I heard a few noises, my curiosity shooting up. After a few beats of silence he spoke from behind me. "Alright, open your eyes." I opened them to find a beautiful scene.

In front of me was a wall of rocks, frost covering them like a blanket, green moss barely peaking through. Some icicles hung from small ledges, leaking to the snow and leaf covered ground of the forest. A wall of ice fell from the top of the rocks, showing a small waterfall frozen in time. A lake that was completely covered over in thick ice sat below the waterfall, a river running from it as well. Snow covered rocks sat on the other side of the lake, nice for sitting on and relaxing.

I was in total awe at the sight. I felt his hand grab mine. Although it didn't feel gloved this time. I looked to my right and was in complete shock. Bright blue eyes looked into mine, this time, not under a mask. For the first time I saw his face completely and my heart had skipped a beat. He had bleach blonde hair and a pale face, pink over his cheeks and nose because of the biting cold. His features were soft and gentle. I took in his features with a smile.

He just have a chuckle, his white teeth showing. He had a wonderful smile. He held up some ice skates and I came back to reality. "Would you like to ice skate with me?" I nodded with a huge smile. "Of course.." I paused for his name, not knowing it along with his looks. "Zane." He stated as he lead me to a log that looked to be decaying. Oh, he already had skates on.

He kneeled down to put the skates on my feet and tie them. I got to take in the clothing he was wearing. It wasn't his normal gi, this time he wore some jeans, a white jacket, a scarf and a beanie accompanied with his white skates. He got up and helped me up. I stumbled forward and he caught me, laughing. "Hey, as if it isn't obvious enough, I don't ice skate."

"Yeah." He firmly grabbed onto my arms and carefully lead me onto the lake. He was quite good on the skates, did he usually ice skate? While I was like a new born doe, he was an expert ice skater. He lead me around, going backwards might I add, and giving me small tips to help my balance. "Alright, I think I'm good." He raised an eyebrow and I gasped. "I am good! Let go if you don't believe me." He just smirked and let go. My legs literally were swooped out from under me and I fell on my ass.

He just doubled over laughing and I just crossed my arms and pouted. "C'mon, let's practice a bit more." He helped me up and we practiced a bit more... More like a few hours. Kinda lost track of time not gonna lie. By the time I was able to glide along the ice and turn the sun was setting. We both ended up sitting on the flat rock, me swinging my legs back and forth and him showing me his ice powers.

It was just us two in the snowy forest, chilling on a rock and entertaining ourselves. He gave a sigh, a calm smile on his face. I placed my gloved hand on his cold cheek, his eyes finding mine. I couldn't help but look at his eyes. I hadn't noticed his hand that had grabbed my other hand. Our faces grew closer, the puffs of warm air hitting his face with each breath I took, us pausing before we closed the short gap. Even though the air was cold my body warmed. I closed my eyes as he did and once we parted a soft glow caught my eye.

His eyes fell to my chest as mine did his. He noticed something was glowing and he reached under his jacket, me doing the same. To my surprise his necklace looked like mine, but the other half. I held out my necklace in my palm and his in his palm. The glow disappeared as we both connected our halves.

We looked at each other and he gave me this smile that just made my heart bloom with a certain feeling I couldn't exactly define. "We're soulmates." He uttered and my smile grew. "Yes we are."

#ninjago #ninjago au #zane julien #soulmates #young love

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