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readyplayerhobi · 4 years

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Flower | 27

; Hoseok x Reader

; Genre: Angst, slight fluff

; Word Count: 4k

; Warnings: Not really an argument but close to it, depictions of anxiety and stress

; Synopsis: You finally decide to take a dip into the world of online dating and find the Flower dating app. One of the top matches for you proves to be a guy who looks to be your complete opposite; tattooed, pierced, a metalhead and oh…incredibly handsome. What happens when you throw caution to the wind and reach out to him?

; A/N: This is one of the more angsty ones, not as bad as before, I swear! I hope you don’t think too harshly of the MC, she’s trying :( the next one is super fluffy...as it’s their anniversary! :D so fear not. As usual, please reblog if you enjoyed it so others can read it and leave me comments, feedback and asks! Thank you!

; Flower Masterpost

Straightening up from the bent-over position you’d been in for the last five minutes, you wince at the pain in your back and rub at it with a slight pout to your lips. You don’t remember if moving into your apartment had been this stressful or tiring, but then your place had been much smaller and you’d had less stuff.

Even with the help of Jimin and Jungkook, it had taken Hoseok and you three days to get everything out of both your old apartments and into your new place. The two of you had started looking for somewhere soon after agreeing to the idea and it had been pure luck to find your new home.

The two-bedroom house that you were both renting was only half an hour away from your parents. It was bigger than you’d originally anticipated but small enough to make it perfect for a couple. There was a backyard that was currently a little overgrown but offered a surprising amount of space while the driveway had space for both your cars.

The interiors needed a little rework initially but the landlord had promised to have everything repainted and fixed for you both, which they had thankfully. You also had permission to put up decorations on the walls and treat this place like your own home, as long as it all went back to looking neutral at the end.

There had been no reason for either of you to turn it down, especially as the rent was low and the utilities more than affordable. Okay, so you both would need to drive a little further to get to work every day. But both of you were making up for it with the reduction in what you would be paying now compared to before, so you’d eagerly signed the lease agreement as soon as possible.

Which was how you were now here, kneeling on the floor of your new living room as you let out a deep sigh of resignation. Even though you’d been the one to ask Hoseok to move in together, which had surprised pretty much everyone you both knew, it had unsurprisingly been you who’d ended up having issues about the whole thing.

The issues were nothing to do with him or even the idea of living with him. Instead, they were everything to do with the fact that you hated, and struggled to cope with, change of any kind. There probably wasn’t a bigger change out there than uprooting your entire life to a new house and then sharing that house with someone else, a person whom you were romantically involved with.

Suddenly, any decisions you made regarding your home would need to include Hoseok in them. You wouldn’t be able to change things on the fly like you were used to, nor would you be able to be by yourself at home when you were feeling overwhelmed. It sounded silly when you thought about it logically, or said it out loud, but you’d found yourself struggling over it all.

You’d thought you were ready for it all. After all, you’d been the one to ask him the big question. Only you’d had more than a few meltdowns in the process of packing up your apartment. It made you cringe to think back on them, embarrassment and shame flooding you as you recall the way you’d handled it all.

If there was one thing you’d learnt over the years, it was that you didn’t handle things well in all honesty. Which was why you bottled it all up until it got too much. The results of those explosions got you even more upset, producing a never-ending cycle. Which was why you would often get set off by the smallest, most unimportant thing.

Only last week you’d slipped into, what could only politely be termed, a temper tantrum. A big, fat, adult tantrum. You’d been in the process of breaking down one of the bookcases in your old living room, unscrewing everything carefully after you’d packed away the contents.

The combination of tiredness from all the packing, the stress of moving and changing over debits, the strain of all the lifting, the fact you were doing all this after a full day of work and how your body ached from all the lifting and dismantling had accumulated after you’d accidentally dropped one of the wood sections onto your foot. Almost immediately you’d yelped out in pain before cursing loudly, frustrated tears seeping as you’d visibly trembled in rage at the stupid bookcase.

It had taken half an hour locked inside your bedroom until you’d finally calmed down enough to go back out and carry on. Thankfully, Hoseok hadn’t been there to witness that moment.

Your boyfriend was far more than you deserved as he hadn’t complained about your slowly souring mood. If you were being honest with yourself, he’d probably seen it coming. He had been the one to make completely sure that you were okay with the idea and had tried to make things go as slowly as possible so you didn’t freak out too much. But you were still struggling with it all.

Your antidepressants were working fine and you were thankful that you hadn’t fallen into a slump, but you just felt like you couldn’t think properly. Nothing was in its right place and everything was just...wrong at the moment. Then there was the fact that you were going to have Hoseok’s stuff here too and you’d both bickered about whether or not to set up the second bedroom as a spare bedroom or an office.

He was truly a saint, you were positive, because despite how grumpy you had slowly become he had taken it all on the chin with a patient smile. You, however, just wanted to go to sleep and for everything to be ready to use in the morning.

It frustrated you to look around the house and see everything that still needed to be built and put away. If you stared too long then you often ended up feeling the heat build in your eyes, tears threatening as exhaustion buffeted you. But that wasn’t how it went, and so you had been unpacking box after box only to find it was more stuff that needed to go in the storage unit that Hoseok was going to build.

Or rather, should have built. He’d promised a few hours ago that he’d get it all set up for you so that you could at least get these boxes out of the way. This unit was going to store all the books, board games and Hoseok’s vinyl records. Instead, they were all still in the boxes and you were glaring at the box that held the storage unit. Still not made.

“Hoseok!” You yell, the tone of your voice a little harsher than you’d intended it. He wasn’t used to hearing you get angry or annoyed but he’d certainly gotten used to it in the last two weeks. Being the good person he was though, he hadn’t snapped back at you. Yet.

“Yeah?” Comes his muffled response and you hear the quiet, low voices of the other two men from the main bedroom. They’d been putting together the bedroom furniture all day while you’d unpacked the kitchen, carefully storing the fragile dishes and glasses before finding homes for the food that you’d run to the store for.

“I thought you said you were going to build this unit?” Even as the words come out of your mouth, you can tell that you’re being unreasonable. He’d spent all day sweating and swearing as he’d set up bedside cabinets, drawers and even the bed. The two of you had decided to invest in all new furniture given you both had rather dated furniture that didn’t match at all.

Unnecessary? Yes, but you’d just wanted to have a nice home that looked right. Yet again, more unreasonable demands from you and more expense. But he hadn’t complained about any of it, instead just going shopping with you and getting it all. Maybe he thought there was no point in complaining or something, but you had the furniture you’d wanted in the end.

And you weren’t being a mean person. You had offered to help them build it all but they’d waved it off with the eagerness of men wanting to be manly and build things. Plus, you were pretty convinced that Hoseok knew how frustrated you’d become just dismantling furniture and didn’t want to risk you getting even angrier if something went wrong while building.

After repeated offers to help them being rebuffed, you’d finally just shrugged and settled yourself for putting away everything that you could. You liked doing that much better really as it gave you a sense of peace and satisfaction to see things in the places you wanted them and looking tidy.

Maybe that was why Hoseok had suggested you do that. He’d been amused the first time he’d seen your food pantry all in neat lines for ease of storage and access but had slowly learnt that you liked everything to have a place and always be in it.

As it was, the kitchen was pretty much completed and so was the ensuite bathroom and the guest bathroom. The living room had Hoseok’s couch and your coffee table while there were a dining table and chairs towards the back. Perfect for both eating and gaming, of course.

But there was no storage in here because...well because Hoseok hadn’t built it!

“Sorry, I’ve been busy here. We’ve just got to finish up with these drawers-” Huffing, you scowl at the unopened box before looking over all the other boxes that haven’t even been touched as his excuses wash over you. The rational part of you knows that they’re valid excuses and you even want to tell him it’s fine, the living room can wait until tomorrow.

The dark cloud of annoyance, stress, anxiety and tiredness has settled fully over your mind though and you grit your teeth as tears form in your eyes. Why did you always have to cry when you were angry? It was pathetic.

“It’s fine. Whatever.” There’s a terse silence that follows your short words and you can practically hear Jimin and Jungkook cringing at the tension that’s suddenly ratcheted up. Pursing your lips, you wipe at your eyes furiously before closing the box back up and pushing at it harshly.

“I’ll build it now for you.” Hoseok’s voice is much closer and you look up, noting his carefully neutral expression on his tired face. Almost immediately you feel remorse for being short with him but the words get stuck in your throat. His hands are a little dirty from the dust of the furniture he’s been building and you note they’re also a little red, probably sore from using the screwdrivers and stuff.

You go to look for some of your hand cream to rub into them for him before realising that you have no idea where it is and the negativity comes rushing back. The box that he’s carrying clinks quietly and you know it’s got all the tools he needs in it to build the unit.

“I said it’s fine. We can do it tomorrow.” Looking away from him, you rub at your forehead from the headache you’ve got while rolling your shoulders, trying to stretch the aches and pains away. There’s a deep sigh from Hoseok that sounds incredibly controlled and you wince slightly, realising that he’s holding his temper back.

“It’s okay, it’s a quick build. It’ll take half an hour or something and then it’ll be done. Better to get it done now and then we get some of these boxes gone, right?” Closing your eyes, you bite your lip hard as you try to settle yourself. When you’re in one of these moods, you normally just take yourself off somewhere to be alone so you can’t be rude or mean.

But there is nowhere to take yourself to here. Nowhere that’s ready, anyway.

Pressing your hands to your eyes, you feel the hysterical urge to just cry and scream. The knowledge that all your safe spaces have vanished for the moment and you have nowhere to go to be calm tipping you further. Even Kasumi is stuck just sleeping on the floor as her stuff is also packed away, waiting to be rebuilt.

You just want it all done so that you can settle back down and allow yourself time to get used to the new environment you live in. Let it all become familiar and warm once more, a home that you can retreat to and feel comfortable in. Right now, it resembles more of an IKEA and you hate it.

“Baby-” Hoseok starts and you shake your head furiously, wiping hard at your eyes before pushing the box of books as hard as you can in front of you. It’s a futile way to get out some of your anger and stress, but it feels good. Better than saying something that might hurt the one person who’s understood you more than anyone in years.

“Leave me alone. Please. Go build the bed or whatever. It’s fine. Tomorrow. I just, I need you to-” You’re not even sure what you’re saying anymore and you feel the anxiety of it all building up. Leaving your old apartment was so much harder than you’d expected and you’d struggled with the idea of knowing you no longer had anywhere to truly be alone. If you got mad at Hoseok in the future, he’d still be in the house somewhere.

You’d spent so many years making your place somewhere that was comfortable and familiar to you, a home that you enjoyed being in and now it was all gone. Now you have to relearn how to make this space comfortable and learn entirely new ways of how to cope with your moods and behaviour with another person.

The quiet sound of the door shutting clues you into the fact that Jimin and Jungkook have left. Unsurprising really, because you sure wouldn’t want to hang around to hear a domestic argument. Particularly given one of those involved is perhaps the quietest person they’ve ever known.

Standing, you pick up one of the boxes that are filled with your board games and move it to the other side of the living room, providing plenty of space to build furniture tomorrow. Going back, you don’t look at Hoseok and you’re not entirely sure why. Maybe you’ll explode on him or maybe you’ll burst into tears. Who knows?

You don’t, which is why you clench your jaw.

There’s an awkward silence between you both as Hoseok doesn’t move, simply watches as you rearrange the boxes in the living room. It makes absolutely no difference now that they’re on the other side of the room but you feel a small sense of relief and peace when they’re all lined up neatly in one area, stacked on top of each other carefully.

The floor is visible once more and you frown at the sight of all the dust covering it. You should vacuum that, only you don’t think you have a vacuum anymore. That may have been one of the things Hoseok said to throw out as yours was ancient and he didn’t even have one.

Scowling at it, you go to the kitchen to grab some cleaning spray and a cloth to at least get the coffee table looking nice. There was no reason for it as it was just going to get dirty again immediately from all the furniture dust but you just needed to make it look clean for now.

“I’m not gonna fight you, Y/N. Please tell me what’s wrong?” Hoseok says quietly, his voice carefully neutral and you pause at the kitchen cabinet, fingers on the door handle. “Please. I don’t want to argue with you when I know you’re not mad at me.”

He sounds so reasonable and calm that you don’t snap at him immediately, instead frowning down at the countertop and rubbing at a mark on it. For a few minutes, you don’t respond and he doesn’t push either. You’re not entirely sure what nation you saved in a previous life to get him, but it must have been a big one.

There’s plenty of other men who would have had a full-scale argument with you by now. The kind of argument that would have let you in tears while you struggled to breath from the anxiety of it all. But t Hoseok knew you. After almost a year together, he knew what upset you and made you angry. Most of all, he knew that you didn’t respond well to conflict. Which was he was just waiting for you to talk to him instead of shouting at you.

Maybe the knowledge that he wasn’t going to snipe at you or be mean was the final straw. All you know though, is that his soft and reassuring words seem to cause something inside of you to crack and all the stress that’s been building up inside your mind finally bursts free.

Lips quivering, you frown hard as you wonder how you’re meant to get across what you’re feeling and thinking. You don’t even really know yourself, so trying to describe it to the one person who you want to understand the most is even harder. Made more so by the fear he might find your excuses pitiful.

“I don’t...it’s just,” Your throat closes tightly as thick tears slowly start to fall. “It’s a lot. Everything’s a lot right now and I just...I can’t handle it. I don’t know how to. I mean...I don’t feel comfortable here yet and it’s making me so anxious and unhappy. And then everything is in these fucking boxes and nothings built properly, we don’t even have the television set up and it’s just...I’m just struggling. I’m trying Hobi, I’m trying.”

You whisper the last words, wiping at your eyes and nose as you try your hardest not to completely break down. If there’s one thing you hate the most in the world, it’s probably crying. It makes you feel pathetic, and when you’re struggling with something as simple as moving places it makes you even more so.

“I just...nothing’s where I like it and I don’t know where everything is. It all feels foreign to me and even Kasumi doesn’t have her stuff! I don’t even know what I’m saying, it’s not even that bad but...but...I just want it all finished so I can start getting used to it! Start thinking of it all as a home and getting used to a routine here! And I’ve had to change all my routines around now because it takes longer to get to work so I have to get up earlier which means I have to go to bed earlier and find out the traffic and-” You’re interrupted by Hoseok wrapping his arms around your waist and hugging you tightly.

For a few seconds, you do nothing until the warmth of his embrace causes you to turn around and link your arms around his waist too. Inhaling deeply, you take in his scent and start to cry once more as everything all comes to a head in your mind, all the ramblings thoughts and stressors and worries you’ve had flooding out as you ramble on to him.

Finally, though, you run out of things to tell him about why you’re so upset about seemingly nothing and instead just hold onto him silently. Your tears are soaking his shirt and you feel a little embarrassed at your minor meltdown but most of all, you just feel safe in his arms. Like no matter what you say or how silly it sounds, he won’t judge you.

In the chaos of your mind and surroundings right now, he was stable and familiar. Comforting.

“Why didn’t you argue with me? I could practically hear you restraining yourself. I was being so stupid and mean for no reason.” You whisper after a while, lips brushing against his shirt with every word. His chest shakes as he chuckles, a hand stroking along your back reassuringly.

“Oh, I almost did. Today was the closest I’ve ever come to snapping back at you. There’s every chance I might’ve done if you’d been someone else. But I know you. And even though you haven’t confided it to me...I know you’ve been putting a brave face on with this whole moving thing. We’ve been together for almost a year, sweetheart. I know what makes you upset and I’ve learnt that change is one of them. And this? Is a big change. I’m stressed over it all so I can’t even imagine how you’re feeling.” The tears return to sting at your eyes, pricking at them hotly and you sniff almost pathetically at his sweet, soothing words.

“I’m sorry. I just…” He cuts you off once more with a gentle kiss to your forehead.

“It’s okay, honestly. I’m just happy you’ve finally told me. I’d pretty much figured all of this out and I knew you weren’t coping too well. But you weren’t talking to me and I didn’t want to push it if you didn’t feel comfortable. But baby, please, in the future just talk to me. I don’t want us to get into another situation like today where we’re on the verge of an unnecessary argument over something as stupid as a storage unit.” He’s rubbing his hands along your arms in a warming gesture, giving you a soft smile that has the tears banking once more.

“I’m sorry. I just...I always feel so stupid. It’s not even anything that bad and I’m here acting like a baby over it all.” Your words are a little thick from how tight your throat is and Hoseok sighs once more, only this time a little more affectionately. The small smile he gives you cuts through your wallowing self-pity.

“You’re not being a baby. If you’re upset over it, then you’re upset over it. I don’t want you getting stressed or anxious over anything but I’ll take having your routine changed and the places where you feel safe and comfortable changing over you getting pissed at me just because I hadn’t built something on time. Those are real reasons to get upset, emotions that are a part of you and I’ll try my hardest to never be angry at you for feeling them. I can’t guarantee it’ll always work because Lord knows I’d almost reached my point today but I will try. Because I know you don’t mean it. You’re the least angry and mean person I’ve ever met, to be honest.” A kiss to your forehead once more seals his words and you sniff, wiping at your face again.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you. Or upset you. I’m sorry. This is just, really big. And I’m scared too. Because if something goes wrong between us then this,” You gesture round to the house in general. “Makes it harder for us to go our separate ways. That frightens me.”

“Hey, it frightens me too. But you know what’s good about that? I have zero plans of leaving you anytime and I’m pretty sure you have zero plans too. Right?” A head tilt from him adds to his questioning tone and you can’t help the soft smile as you nod. Enveloping you in a tight hug once more, Hoseok does his best to reassure you before pulling away slowly.

“Okay, we finished all the bedroom off so...how about we just get the bedding sorted, order takeout and then just watch something on my laptop? No more negativity and no more work today, okay? Let’s just cuddle up and relax.” Looking out over the living room that you can see over the island in the kitchen, you twist your lips at the sight of everything still packed away before taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly.

“Yeah. That sounds good.”

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drink-n-watch · 4 years

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Another week, another brand-new episode of Psycho Pass. I’m going to hold back and be all mysterious and stuff. Because that’s how I do. I definitely don’t blurt out exactly how I feel about a show in the very first line of every post and then there’s no point in reading the rest. Nuh-huh. No siree. I gots some restraint! Who do you take me for! So instead, Matt, how are you enjoying season 3 so far. It may just be 3 episodes in but as they are double length, it’s now longer than most movies!

Oh, so does that mean it’s my turn to blurt out my thoughts in a single sentence? Okay, um, err, this show is still as consistently excellent as I thought it was based on the previous two episodes! Oh no, I hope I’ll have something to write for the rest of the review now!

Is that so? Fascinating. I can see how you would think and/or feel that way! (I write my part first… I have no clue what Matt said at this point…

So let’s get right into it. First I just a few general comments on my part. I enjoy high stakes corruption stories and although that’s also what season 1 was, the fact that this allows us to look into the public face of Sybil a bit more, through the device of gubernatorial elections is a great angle in my opinion. Diving into what has to be extremely complex and unique politics of a Sybil controlled society has so much potential.

I had to look up what “gubernatorial” meant (we don’t have anything like that in Australia, so forgive my ignorance), but yes I think politics and the world of ‘Psycho Pass’ is a perfect fit.

I mean what powers do politicians even hold in such circumstances. Are elections largely a population suppression tactics. Something to keep the masses happy? If so, why are they so incredibly high stakes. Seems ridiculous to be going through all this for what amounts to a reality show (which might explain why both candidates are entertainers). So much potential!

What do you think?

I mean, if I know anything about politics and people its that ambitious people will always be ambitious and wanting to be ‘the best’ regardless of the world they live in–so even if politics amount to nothing more than a popularity contest without any real power or ability to change anything outside of Sybil’s system–people are still going to strive for that, people are going to kill for that even. We’ve seen time and time again in the real world that people do extreme things to get what they want, even if to ‘outsiders’ their goals seem ridiculous or pointless.

Yakusuji really surprised me as a character this week. For a second there I thought they were going with a “bad guy is bad” sort of characterization but then it all took a very sharp right turn! I still don’t know if his character is sincere or if it’s all a big act. Either way, I didn’t expect it and I like it! Maybe it’s my suspicious nature that leads me to think he’s less than sincere but Psycho Pass did teach me not to trust anyone!

He’s definitely an interesting character but the way his character ties into Enforcer Todoroki’s subplot makes for a compelling bit of character development. As for whether he’s ‘on the level’ I don’t buy it…

I did find the assault scene a bit blunt. Not as in too brutal (mind you I thought it was hilarious that someone could kick a skull in so hard as to actually make it explode!) but just a little too straight forward. At least that’s what I thought as I was watching it. In hindsight though, if this was a political machination and not just the random terrorist attack they are making it out to be on the surface, then this type of direct and flamboyant assault is exactly what would be the most effective!

Yeah I took it to be that they were being intentionally flashy, down to the attackers wearing the same clothes, I found it to be a very intimidating scene.

How does anyone in this universe manage to keep their hue clear? I was only watching those little holo assistant thingies pop up for a few minutes (like the old Clippy office assistant) and I already felt my urge to murder rise. I wouldn’t last a day if I had to deal with those things and keep my thoughts in check!

I loved the idea of someone being physically assaulted and then a little pop-up comes up warning them that they were receiving injuries in-line with someone being assaulted, it’s that kind of AI assistant mentality that makes me hate AI assistants like ‘Alexa’ and ‘Siri’ all the more (but that’s a rant for another day).

As our heroes were chasing the attackers down, we got some surprising bit of universe building and musing on the dual nature of justice and law. One of my very favourite lines from the first season was said in a similar context. As Akane was chasing down criminals she said something to the effect that there’s a misconception that laws are there to protect people but it’s really up to people to protect the laws. I love that idea. It really epitomized Akane’s character and the fact that that’s what’s going through her mind in a high-pressure situation was just perfect.

We got something similar this week with Arata capping off a chase explaining that even in a Sybil controlled society it is imperative to exercise human judgement “that’s why dominators have triggers”. It’s a great line! And one that solidifies Arata’s devotion to ideals rather than establishments.

I’m glad you brought it up, that line really stood out to me too, the importance of the human aspect in an (at times) inhumane system.

Matt, you mentioned last week that you felt the writers of Psycho Pass season 3 had gotten around to reading old US news, it seems that they’ve moved on to more recent fare as the general depiction of the mudslinging politics does seem very familiar to what has been happening not too far south from my own home in the past few years!

Immigration’s a tricky thing, ain’t it?

Although, aside from the winky topical references, it does make a lot of sense that a society as portrayed in Psycho Pass would be particularly xenophobic. To be honest, I was really surprised they even had large scale immigration. I figured the country would have been largely sealed off!

So far, the themes of racial/cultural tension are handled a little naively and way too simplified for my tastes. However, I do realize that with everything going on in this narrative, you got to take some shortcuts.

I suppose there’s still time for a more nuanced discussion on immigration from this show, I imagine someone like you Irina, an immigrant yourself, would have a lot more to say on the subject than most people?

What did you think of Haruki Enomyia? I’m asking cause I have no clue what to make of them.

Difficult to say, for a second I thought they might be setting them up as a bigger villain for this story but I think they’re probably going to end up just another pawn in the bigger game being played. I think they were more just here to give us an idea of what kind of life Kazumichi had in the slums before joining the force. Though I think him just walking around the town with Arata did that well enough.

Am I the only one who noticed all the food in this episode? Maybe I was just hungry, but everything looked delicious!

C’mon Irina, all anime food looks delicious!

Ok back to more serious stuff, we got some very decent character-building backstory for both Kei and Arata. Now normally, this would not be my thing. It was delivered in straight exposition and boy oh boy was it all tragic! Taken independently, both of their backgrounds would have had me gently rolling my eyes and moving on without a second thought. Oh my, an anime protag with a tragic backstory! But it’s in how these stories intertwine to create such a bizarre picture of their relationship that brings the whole thing to a higher level.

It’s kind of interesting that they chose to more or less have our entire supporting cast learn this complicated backstory at the same time via the expositional method you mentioned. On the one hand I guess it helps to have everyone on the same page with their history but it makes me wonder if it was done for a more specific reason. Like one of the Enforcers using this information against our dynamic duo or the opposite and it puts more faith in them and brings closer as a team–who can say for sure?

In fact, the peculiar dynamic between Kei and Arata is truly fascinating and so far, a strong point of the season for me.

Agreed.

A few little random thoughts:

I quite like both the OP and ED. I like the visuals in the OP better, in fact, I like them a lot, but I prefer the ED song!

The interiors are really beautiful this season. I’m not so taken by the architecture, but room designs consistently catch my eye.

Also, I didn’t know where to fit it in the review, but I liked the statement that acting weak releases cortisol making you feel more relaxed. The behavioural neuroscience angle is one I like a lot and I hope they develop it more as Psycho Pass is the perfect universe to explore this in.

I thought it was interesting–if briefly mentioned–but I have to wonder if it was just the writer showing off some fancy things he learned on wikipedia and wanting to put it into the show (okay that was a bit catty of me, apologies to the writer of Psycho Pass).

Oh I guess I should finally admit it. I really liked this episode. More than the last. So far, I think the writing may be a touch weaker than I had hoped. There’s a lot of slightly clumsy exposition. But I’m also starting to see the foundations of a potentially fascinating story with some very intriguing dynamics. I’m excited. When the episode ended I was both surprised by how quickly it had gone by and a little bummed I couldn’t watch the next one right away!

I have to agree (we seem to agreeing a lot this time!) our new characters feel like they’re living up to the potential of this show’s world while adding interesting things to it too. Political corruption, a shadow organisation called ‘Bifrost’ pulling the strings (cool name by the way) plus all the internal machinations at the various levels of law enforcement and interpersonal relationships too makes for a rich and compelling tapestry. If you’re a person who adheres to the 3 episode rule and you haven’t given this show a chance yet then 3 excellent episodes in a row should be proof enough that Psycho Pass is back and firing on all cylinders!

Psycho Pass s3 ep3 – Tensions Flare Another week, another brand-new episode of Psycho Pass. I’m going to hold back and be all mysterious and stuff.

#action #anime #Collab #crime #drama #Psycho Pass #sci fi

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charlotteroseessex-blog · 5 years

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Web of Lies or Web of Ties?

Let me just start by asking you a question.

How many people do you actually know that you follow on Instagram?

Imagine scrolling through your ‘following’ list right now. How many of the accounts would you be able to confidently say you know personally? Not just know of through a friend of friend of their brothers girlfriend, but actually, seriously, can call a legitimate worthy friend?

These days, people use social media to follow and connect with friends, family and also influencers and celebrities who are considered relevant to their lives and goal. ‘Following’ is a crucial process in every users experience and can become misused tool when the element of connectivity is abused, especially if you begin to share private photos with people you don’t really know. The most followed accounts on Instagram belong to Cristiano Ronaldo (152.62 million) and Selena Gomez (144.75 million). Regular people who may not have even met either celebrity will follow them in order to keep updated with upcoming music releases or football team transfers because the information is perceived important to their lives. In adjunct to this information, it is worth admitting that we, as the general public, seek factual or even pointless knowledge about regular people that is unlikely to be beneficial for us to learn. It’s a strange concept, but we now live most of our lives online whereby everything is accessible and this is making us become reliant on instant gratification when seeking information regarding other people’s business (basically, we are just nosy).

Take the incident, for example, which broke the internet in 2018 when Kylie Jenner's secret pregnancy was finally revealed, after a year of speculation, with the birth of her daughter, Stormy. Now I’m not sure about you, but I was shamefully interested in the news way more than I should have been for someone other wise unbothered by other celebrity pregnancies. Online communities stalked the Jenner in what should have been a private journey through the beginnings of motherhood, which exploded with posts and images about the new arrival as soon as the hint of information was published. Now, unfortunately I don’t actually know any of the Kardashians nor do their life choices affect me in any way, shape or form... so why do I even care? Well truthfully, it’s because it’s shoved in all of our faces by every social media platform we are on and there’s really no escaping it, so naturally you kinda become interested. I think every man and their nan got a little hype from the announcement of Stormy’s birth.

Social networking sites, like Facebook, are becoming more accessible to people of all ages due to their attractable features targeting basically every age category. There’s news coverage for the oldies and games for the young'uns (one word, Farmville). Users now as young as 13, which is the minimum age requirement, can create an active profile which encourages them to take their first few steps into the addictive world of social networking. Now, I know I speak for a lot of millennials when I say that this never happens. I joined Facebook when I was 10 years old. I’m no mathematician but even I can assure you that rules were broken when I ticked the ‘Terms and Conditions’ section when confirming my false age of about 33 before accessing my Facebook profile. Everyone did it because no one wanted to be that one weirdo going into secondary school without a Facebook account.

So why is being online so desirable? I mean why else do kids break the age bracket by lying about their truthful year of birth? Well, the initial idea of being online is exciting. I mean there is literally no other platform that allows you to choose a profile picture, share funny posts and engage in group chats with friends after school. But this is merely the makeup of Facebook. Think of the features on Facebook as the high coverage foundation covering up the scars and cracks hidden on a site able to save information and build your digital footprint as well as selling this same data to external companies. I mean??? To consider kids as young as 13 becoming active online is slightly alarming.

Little 10-year-old me was definitely unaware of all the potential dangers awaiting me as soon as I activated my online profile. Younger people are becoming more and more active on social networking sites which makes the issue of ‘stranger danger’ even more prominent. Especially when I was new to social networking, the element of cyber attacks or bullying was only just being uncovered, so in a sense, the awareness we have for the internet now is more educated despite the dangers still being there. But who’s to say the users are any more careful than they were before? There are cases of people being scammed or ‘catfished’ over Facebook or something, but there’s never a bone in your body that thinks that will ever be applicable to you. The dangers of being online are endless, but now it has reached a point where some bad experiences have become entertaining for others intrigued and excited by online horror stories.

4 words.

Catfish the TV show.

The fact that this show has achieved 7 successful seasons in the 7 years it’s been running, outlines the overall crisis that false identities and accounts have and still are destroying real lives. The cases that are investigated by Nev Schulman and Max Joseph are outrageous and most of the time so far fetched you wonder how these people couldn’t recognise the Catfish themselves. However, the manipulation and deception highlighted on the show presents social networking as a vulnerable world for those unaware of the intentions of those wanting to serve you harm. I mean, who’s to say the online friend you made on Facebook is actually who she claims to be. Yes, her picture might look legit and her friends may also seem believable, but nowadays, you can never ben too careful. She could be using her friends image in order to be perceived by others as someone prettier or skinnier or she may even be a he. Imagine a 50 year old man sat in his scabby 1 bedroom flat, who used the image found on google to befriend other young girls, whilst adding a nearby college as her ‘place of education’ in order to easily befriend unsuspecting students from the college who assume acquaintances purely based on their same place of education. It’s probably easier than it sounds.

But still, how many people do you actually know online?

Being accepted as a friend or being followed on social media can create a feeling of acceptance and gratification, but who are we really letting in? Are the pressures of society in being a certain weight or height, making an individual's hatred and discontent towards themselves a toxic driving force towards the increasing rate of falsified representations? The idolisation of more successful people, naturally evokes some sort of admiration and can even lead to a self comparison with someone so vastly different from yourself, we end up wishing ourselves to be something else - longer legs, bigger biceps, rounder lips, you name it, we’ve all thought it. Is the growth in catfishing others with personas deemed more attractive than our own, a progression towards a less unique generation? It’s no secret that the younger generation are all starting to look the same. After all, we are all influenced by the same few models and fashion bloggers who sport a similar appearance, like the small sunglasses perched at the end of their perfect button noses serving no purpose whatsoever other than an extension of the nose.

Not only is Catfishing a betrayal of social networking, but it is also a solid representation in how online communities can violate the privacy of others if the information provided to and by others is false. To address the mishaps of online communities and understanding the weak ties with some followers, it is worth delving into the realms of Instagram - the Queen of all user generated contents. Here, users are able to depict whatever persona they desire, true or false. Most accounts on Instagram post aesthetically pleasing images which are followed by those interested in the fashion it features or the interior design included in the backdrop. The communities created here share common interests despite being unofficial acquaintances with one another. In being so inspired by certain feeds, we often find ourselves trying to replicate influential or successful users so to achieve a similar sort of popularity. But how realistic is this new representation of ourselves? Potentially, this could also be classed as a form of catfishing, as even though you are the same 20 year old female displayed in your photos, the clothes and hair and makeup IS NOT YOU. The interests and persona you have created online is simply a replica of someone else. Is this just another symbolic reference of being a catfish? And are we now catfishing ourselves in becoming something or someone we no longer recognise online?

Younger users are the most likely to befriend strangers due to their naivety of experience in the application. Luckily, Facebook is a bound system which SHOULD make accessing profiles and private information less easy to access (depending on the privacy controls) until a friend request is accepted. The factorship of age and difference in online awareness is important when considering the reasons why users embark on adding others online. I remember my own first hype of Facebook as, when I was 10 and new to the world of online networking, my initial desire was to add as many people as I could in order to gage the most amount of friends. Why? Because I did what every other kid in the world was doing and didn’t want to be the outsider with less than 1,000 friends. In doing so, I dismissed the dangers of accepting a request from someone I didn’t know and instead embraced the extra friend regardless of ‘stranger danger’. In addressing this naivety at such a young age, it has bought annoyance upon my feed in recent years when I am still inundated with people I don't even know. My Facebook timeline was, until recently, filled with strangers status updates I didn’t care about. Now, 10 years later and having unfollowed and defriended those irrelevant strangers and to return my profile to a safe and bounded system, I am more cautious in my privacy settings as well as the information I choose to share. In being older and, I like to think, more wiser towards the dangers of Facebook and those using it as a platform to abuse, my profile is purely used for communication for those I maintain strong ties with. My point is that social networking, despite being intended for bound systemic usage, has the potential to allow strangers into a personal world of expression.

The element of ‘stranger danger’ is prevalent on all day to day social networking sites and has recently developed into an entertainment theme. Not only is false identity the main purpose behind the TV show Catfish, as well as exposing and raising awareness for recognising false identities, but it’s also become a popular genre in the thriller category on Netflix. I would be lying if I denied the entertainment value of these movies and documentaries, as sad as that may be. We live in a world now where traumatic, horrific and impossible events prevail to be the most popular watches amongst the general public. Watching dramas and films created at the expense of others life-changing online experiences merely shock audiences nowadays due to the normality of cases whereby people are tricked into situations others would say ‘well you should have seen it coming’. The shrugging of shoulders when cases of catfishing or identity thefts are reported are becoming more and more acceptable in their regular occurrences and barely now even make the headlines.

Netflix capitalises on cases such as stalking, identity theft and catfishing in order to present, for the film hungry public, an endless binge watching of tragic cases of unsuspecting victims. One of the most recent movies to have been released on Netflix, is psychological thriller ‘Cam’ which follows a young webcam girl down a pathway of self destruction when her identity is stolen and then replicated by an anonymous user who benefits from her achieved success in her career. This film represents the repercussions of living your life online and over sharing information to a network of followers unknown to you. ‘Cam’ leads you on a journey which sees the obsession with not only being liked online, but also the growing fixation in achieving the largest following in order to reach self-love and acception.

The entertainment world has hugely profited from the mishaps of social media and the victims of others abuse of it. I often wonder the main attraction for creating false profiles online, or even stealing others, as my personal use for social networking is to engage with friends, the real life friends I actually know. The intention for users who create false identities in order to befriend and scam random innocent people, which is usually financially motivated, is honestly one of the most tragic pathways a human being can embark on. Just get a life? It’s not only putting regular people’s privacy in danger, but it also makes being online a concept of which some people do all they can to remain as far away from as possible or take regular breaks from social media altogether. And truthfully, the way in which social networking is spiralling, I don’t blame them.

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lxveille · 6 years

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sunshowers

the8 x reader

word count: ~9100 a/n: gang!au; warnings for mentions of violence, drugs, and for minor depictions of sex (so technically slightly nsfw - but you’ll probably be disappointed if that’s the main thing you’re looking for !!)

In a city plagued by increasing gang activity, Xu Minghao was only first drawn in for the sense of belonging that came with being part of something bigger than himself. He breaks his own heart when he falls in love with the peace activist who moves in down the hall.

When Minghao first heard a loud bang in the hallway of his run-down apartment building, he’d jumped in his seat. He promptly scolded himself mentally for such a reaction; if he weren’t alone, his company would surely be ridiculing him for being so easily startled. But thankfully he was alone in the same studio apartment he’d first moved into two years ago, sitting with the same soft quilt his mother had sent him on the first birthday he spent away from home. At that point in time he’d already begun the initiation process. If his mother knew that he’d so quickly let himself be drawn into one of the city’s infamous gangs, Minghao doubted he would have received any gift at all.

After the initial thankfulness that none of his friends are there to laugh at his initial alarm, the concern that sometimes came with being alone crept up on Minghao. His building was usually fairly quiet. It may have been situated in a troubled neighborhood, but the chaos was normally on the streets, not within these thin, wall-papered walls. But it was always an option, no matter how much quiet dread it filled him with, that just by living here he’d encourage something dark and violent up the stairs and to his doorstep.

He had to remind himself that he’s dealt with a fair share of horrible things before he slipped out from under the blanket and made his way cautiously to his door. The peephole was useless to him; a previous tenant had fainted it over while trying to spruce up the interior and it seemed no amount of picking at paint would make it possible to actually see through the fisheyed glass ever again.

He left the bolted chain locked when he opened the door an inch to look outside. In the hallway was an odd scene. An open door at the end of the hall, a large trunk-style suitcase at the landing of the stairs, and a young woman sprawled out on the floor between the two, eyes closed and slack-jawed.

The worst possible option jumped to mind first. Things had been worse lately. New groups were encroaching on established gangs’ territories, altercations and hospitalizations were both on the rise along with public outrage at what they saw as an infestation of violent youth. A dead woman showing up in his hallway would fit with the luck Minghao had being having.

(“If you thought she was dead,” Jun pointed out when he recounted this story later that night, “You should’ve have just stayed in your place.” The lot of them were loitering out back of Seventeen’s preferred bar at the time. Minghao wouldn’t have been so quick to tell others about the encounter if it hadn’t been for liqour smearing his sense of good from questionable ideas.)

So maybe he thought you were dying instead. There’s a world of difference between the past and progressive. Because it was true: dead would mean he should leave it to some other neighbor to come across the scene and deal with it all. The last thing Minghao needed was his name on record with the police in any capacity. But dying -- well, dying meant there could be a chance to be saved.

That notion, however faint or wishful it may have felt, was why the door slammed loudly against the wall when he threw it open. And thanks to that commotion, Minghao’s worries were quickly dispelled as you sat up immediately. He froze and stared into your eyes, widened with surprise at his sudden appearance. You were fine, he quickly realized, and his ears burned with embarrassment at how quickly he’d worried over a stranger.

“What are you doing lying around in the hallway?” he snapped after a few moments ticked by in silence. He’d been trying to emulate the way Seungcheol or Soonyoung could yell at simple passersby and intentional trespassers alike in order to keep it so the only ones around were those who were already part of Seventeen.

You smiled and apologized as if there had been no aggression in his tone at all. “I thought moving myself in would be easy, but I swear everything is two times heavier going upstairs,” you explained with a laugh. It seemed to come to you so easily, without an ounce of irony or edge.

He blamed that breezy laughter later for why he offered to help you finish moving your packed bags and belongings into the small apartment opposite his own.

Your studio was a flipped image of his own. The layout was essentially identical. Except where his kitchenette was on the right, yours stood to the left of the door. Your east-facing window mirrored his west-facing once. And, after you offered to make him tea as a means of thanking him for help, he noticed even your green kettle stood at the opposite side of the color wheel from the red sitting on his own stovetop.

“I’ve wanted to strike out on my own for a while,” you provided the information without his prompting. The two of you were sat on the floor surrounded by suitcases and cardboard boxes. The only things you bothered to unpack was your kettle, two mismatched mugs and a box of silver needle tea. “So I saved up, and now I’m here.” You glanced up at the ceiling with a look of wonder that would have been better suited for the Sistine Chapel than the dull, gray plaster overhead.

Minghao hardly registered that he was telling you about how he came to be living abroad until he was already halfway through the story. It caught him off guard to hear his own voice confessing to how lonely and claustrophobic this building had felt when he first moved in. He left out how he found a way out of that solitude, the part where he met Mingyu and Jun his first week here. How he hardly knew how infamous a gang Seventeen was until he was well on his way to being considered full-fledged member.

“But you’re doing better now, right?” you asked with such compassion that Minghao was glad he could honestly tell you yes. He’d made friends; no, he wasn’t so lonely anymore. He left out the how and who. It was easy to tell from your demeanor that you wouldn’t be impressed by those details.

“I am,” he confirmed simply. His tongue itched to offer you company should any similar troubles ever crawl under your skin. Somehow, in the slight panic that the realization of this set upon him, he ended up asking instead, “Are you alone in the city?” It took a great deal of self-control to keep from cringing at the words that came haphazardly past his lips. Of all things, sounding like a creep had been the least of his intentions.

“I grew up on the other side of the city, actually,” you responded with a smile that helped soothe his self-inflicted shame. “But you’re the only friend I have in… probably a fifteen-block radius from here.”

He was conflicted. There was a part of him that had been trained in repartee and harsh teasing with his fellow members; that side wanted to challenge you, ask just who the hell said the two of you were friends. The other part of him was too flattered by the sudden offer of amity to allow such cold words to be directed your way.

“Sorry I don’t have anything to welcome you to the neighborhood,” he said to avoid stumbling into some strange mix of the two.

“Don’t be! Helping me get everything up here is plenty welcome for me.”

A third, more worrisome voice, chimed in later that night as Minghao was lying in bed. It asked just how it was that you grew up here, that you knew how dangerous the city could be, and that you could be so open with a neighbor you’d only just met at the same time. It fretted over what traits that indicated in you, what vulnerabilities it exposed in you. But that night he dreamt of lingering in your apartment with your softness and the fragrance of white tea all the same.

The worst of what it could have indicated to Minghao was confirmed the next afternoon, when he ran into you in the first floor hallway of the building. You were unlocking your small, silver-doored mailbox just as he was coming down the stairs to go meet up with Soonyoung and Chan. You greeted him with a smile and a wave, and Minghao noticed the symbolic white ribbon embroidery with olive-green leaves tied neatly around your wrist. He hadn’t noticed it the day before. He doesn’t need to ask what it means.

It would be easier if you were repping some rival gangs colors, he thought to himself as he made his way through busy streets with his head down. At least you’d be in the life if that were the case. At least there may have a chance you’d find some appeal in the darkest parts of him.

But there was no such luck. Instead, you were part of that rising group of anti-gang protestors. Half the city (and certainly all the gangbangers) was uncertain what exactly they expected to accomplish. They made an awful lot of noise, though, gathering in public places with signs urging for people not to accept the way things have changed or shouting on about how peace just needed one chance to flourish. Seungcheol called them pests. Mingyu thought them harmless, even good for a laugh or two. Jeonghan and Jun theorized that the lot of them must be helping fund at least a few gang with whatever drugs they must be on.

Minghao, with a cap pulled low over his eyes as he only half-listens to the typical joking around of his fellow members, found himself caring for the first time about what might happen when one of the gangs get sick of starry-eyed activists telling them they need to give up their lifestyle.

“Hey! Earth to Hao!” Jun knocked his shoulder with an open palm, “Are you listening?”

“What?” he gave away that he clearly hadn’t, and both Jun and Chan groaned.

“We were asking,” Mingyu drew out the phrase to emphasize how little he cared for the spaced-out attitude Minghao had brought along that day, “if you got anywhere with that not-dead neighbor yet.”

“What about her?” he did his best to sound uninterested in this whole topic of conversation.

“Jun says you think she’s hot,” Chan prompted.

“I didn’t say that.” Minghao shot a frustrated look in Jun’s direction. It wasn’t much of a surprise the Jun had embellished last night’s story. It was just unlucky that Jun had decided to go in the direction of fuckable-damsel rather than any other option.

“Then why’d you nearly take your door off its hinges to check she was still breathing” Jun questioned, as if this were undeniable proof.

“My door is fine,” he said in a sigh, “And she’s not my type.”

The next time he saw you was in public, with everything far too close to colliding for his tastes.

He was on his way to meet up with a few other members to finish up the details of a deal Seungcheol was set on closing that night. Cutting through the park was meant to be a shortcut.

His pace slowed against his will when he spotted a whole gaggle of peace protesters in the center square. Minghao was in the middle of telling himself that he was absolutely not keeping an eye out for you when he spotted you.

In the midst of the crowd, you were sat cross-legged next to some boy who was all soft-lines and smiles with a guitar in his lap. And you -- you looked like you’d been dropped in his path that day as some cruel reminder from fate of all the things he no longer was. You were laughing, eyes closed and shoulders loose in ease with silhouettes of leaves and branches across your skin from the sunlight streaming through the treetops above you. There were a couple flowers tucked into your hair and a girl in a pastel sundress leaning her head in your lap as she laughed along.

It made his stomach twist to think that with this gathering so nearby, Seventeen would still be meeting up in one of the parking lots to discuss how they’d try to make sure no one got killed during a hand-off of drugs.

He reasoned with himself that he was infatuated with some vague idea of you. Two weeks went by of seeing each other in passing. Every smile and insistence that he really ought to come back over for tea sometimes only made it harder for Minghao to convince himself that you weren’t as lovely as he imagined. He felt tenser when hanging around with the boys now; he preferred when they were inside anywhere rather than out in the open. He couldn’t imagine you would frequent any of the same places as a street gang. And it had taken no time at all for him to begin dreading when you might spot him with Seventeen and suddenly stop inviting him over. Even though he never accepted them, it would sting to stop being welcome any time, as you so often put it.

Minghao didn’t imagine you were the sort to go out. He pictured you tucking into bed at reasonable hours, sleeping through sirens and dreaming of pleasant things. Sitting on his fire escape near three in the morning one Saturday night, he found himself proven wrong.

Laughter announced your arrival around the corner. He closed his eyes, cursed himself for knowing it was you by the sound alone, and then searched out the sight of you.

You were walking backwards down the sidewalk, arm outstretched and hand linked with that same gentle looking guitarist from the park. Under the streetlamps, Minghao can see faint glimmers reflecting in your hair and stuck to your clothing. Traces of the same metallic confetti were spotted on the boy walking you home as well, but they don’t strike him as looking as ethereal as they did on you. You were going on excitedly about something that he couldn’t quite make out. A trail of sparkles fell from you with every emphatic gesture you made.

He told himself he should crawl back through his propped open window and put you out of his mind. Not a single muscle moved in response to the thought. (Except perhaps his poor heart beating out a protest, asking why he couldn’t relish in the sight of you just this once.)

The guitarist laughed loudly, the sound cutting through the chill that was coming with the end of summer just as yours had moments before. Minghao leaned forward, one shoulder pressing into the metal guard railing of the fire escape, as he watched the boy lift his hand and lead you into an impromptu twirl.

Your face tilted up as you spun, and he swore your eyes met with his for the fleeting moment you’d been looking in his direction.

Whether it was then or not, you confirmed you had spotted him sitting outside his window once you reached the front door of the building. First, you said goodbye to the guitarist. Then, when Minghao had thought you would unlock the door and start the trek up five flights of stairs, you tilted your head up once more and took a few steps off the sidewalk and into the empty street in order to get a better look at him.

“You’re up late!” you called in greeting.

“You’re out late,” he didn’t shout back as loud as you had, trusting the air to carry his voice well enough.

“Can I join you?” you proceeded to ask with no preamble. With no excuse than wanting to see him, Minghao noted with a smile that slipped too easily onto his lips.

“You’re gonna have to make it up the stairs first.”

“Now, just who do you think I am that I won’t make it?” It almost could have sounded like anger if not for your infectious grin.

“I’ll unlock my door then.”

He did. And not long after, you appeared inside his apartment and took his hand when he held it out to help you crawl out the window onto the fire escape with him. Closer now, he could see that there was glitter and bits of dried paint dotted on your clothes and skin.

“Were you up to some late night arts and crafts?” he asked as you settled in cross-legged next to him.

“Some of the time,” you admitted with a laugh, “We threw a… kinda love-in, I guess some people call it, at this old warehouse where some gang fight reportedly broke out about a month back.”

Minghao’s stomach flipped at the explanation. “We being… the whole anti-violence crowd you hang out with?” He knew the answer already,

You nodded happily and carried on, “It was amazing. It felt like everyone was just on this one wavelength. And, sometimes even I have trouble buying into the philosophy of, like… karmic cleansing, but it honestly felt like we’d slipped into an ideal world for a couple hours.”

An ideal world, Minghao understood, meant one where gangs hangouts were converted into places of dancing and painting and god only knew what else. One where gangs didn’t exist at all.

He thought of Jeonghan and Jun’s theory about the peace activists using drugs without meaning to. But your eyes were clear, your speech was normal, and there weren’t any signs of jitters from you at all. He was relieved at the same time he resented himself for even a passing suspicion of you using.

“You should have been there,” you said next, resting your chin on a knee pulled up to your chest.

“...Don’t really think it’d be my kind of scene.”

“You think the movement is silly?” You accused him without sounding anything more than amused. His mouth parted with the impulse to deny it, but he failed to summon any such words. “It’s okay if you do. You’re not the only one.”

“It’s a nice idea,” he fumbled for a way out of small pit of guilt he’d stumbled into, “But it’s also…”

“I know,” you chuckled out before Minghao could decide upon an adjective that would manage to be honest without coming across too harsh. “Whatever you’re gonna say, I’ve pretty much heard them all. It is idealist, and wishful, and it can look naive on the outside, and it --”

“It’s dangerous,” he cut in, and regret promptly began to boil up his throat when the smile disappeared from your face. “Did I find a new one?” he asked after too many seconds had passed for it to possibly be the tension breaker he desperately wished it could be.

“No. You just sound like my parents now.”

He flinched at the impact of your tone. Disappointed. Disheartened.

“I know it might be,” you spoke up once more, “But there’d be no point in it if it wasn’t. We wouldn’t need to be sharing our message if it wasn’t. The very fact that our city is dangerous is why we spend so much time shouting about love. You know? I don’t recognize my city in our crime rates. I don’t recognize our generation in the police blotters. And I won’t let the world look at us as say we were too scared to say anything about it.”

It was obviously the kind of thing you’d recited before, or that you were repeating back from hearing one of your friends say. But that did little to take away from the earnestness in your tone. Everything he’d heard when you’d likened his point to your parents had shifted, had warped into a desperate need to be heard and to be understood.

He wanted to talk you out of it. He wanted to shout, almost, about how little words will do once someone decides they want to do something to shut you up. And how that day will only come faster if your group keeps trying to make violent, disastrous places into things that glow and lift spirits.

Minghao couldn’t bring himself to do it. He feared giving himself away. He feared upsetting you.

“Promise you’ll be careful,” he settled on as an alternative. This brought something new to your features. Your gaze softened, the spark of passion for your cause dimmed into something mindful and curious. Your hands fell to your sides and fingers grasped lightly at the metal frame holding the two of you. This time he was willing to bet from your reaction that he had managed to say something you hadn’t already heard too much.

“Okay,” you agreed, suddenly down to nothing more than a whisper, “I will.”

Such worry for you didn’t consume him again until three weeks later, when he trudged his way up the stairs of the apartment building with bruised knuckles and a split lip. For reasons Minghao could only imagine being torn up over, you were about to make your way downstairs when you spotted one another.

“What happened?” you fretted over him, hands coming to rest upon his shoulders before he could come up with any plan of escaping the situation. He looked like hell, he knew that much. Minor hell, by the standards of anyone in a gang. Probably full-fledged awful to someone as starry-eyed as you.

“Don’t worry about it,” he tried to shrug you off, but you were set upon getting a more conclusive answer. “Please,” Minghao all but spat the word as he moved past you on the stairs.

“Minghao,” you followed him back up to the landing and down his direction of the hallway, “You can’t possibly show up like that and I think I won’t worry!”

“I’m telling you not to.” He squeezed his key in his sore palm, the metal teeth dug into his flesh painfully.

“That’s not gonna work.”

“I can’t tell you,” he growled the admission, turning on his heels to give you a soured look. He hoped, stupidly, that hurting you with distance and dishonesty would be better than the truth.

You didn’t stumble away or yell at him. You weren’t on the verge of tears. You nearly passed for calm if it weren’t for the hands clutched to your chest. The posture wasn’t entirely unlike that of prayer. “Then can’t I at least help you?” you entreated, and broke all his resolve to close you out.

“I’m keeping you from something,” Minghao complained vaguely on your behalf as you settled once more on to the side of the bathtub with him. At that point, you had already cleaned and wrapped the wounds on his hands. You’d dabbed gently at the blood around his mouth and now you were back from the kitchen with ice wrapped up in a hand towel.

“This is more important,” you reassured him as you pressed the cold pack to his bruised eye with a steadier hand than he anticipated. He dared to understand your words to mean he was more important.

He wanted to kiss you right then. He would have kissed you if it wouldn’t have stung his swollen lips. If it wouldn’t have forced the taste of iron onto your tongue.

Two nights later, Minghao finally accepted your long-standing offer to come over for tea again.

There was a world of difference between your apartment on the day he’d met and the one he walked into that afternoon. There wasn’t a corner he could look at that didn’t radiate with life. While you were occupied with the kettle, Minghao looked over all the photos, the knick-knacks and souvenirs, the saved ticket stubs and birthday cards the filled your apartment with your vibrancy.

Despite the rain that pattered against the window, he felt as warm as if he were standing in a room flooded with sunlight.

Minghao picked up wood-carved figurine of a swan he spotted sitting on your window sill. Once he turned it over in his hand, he saw faded marker reading simply ‘love always - CSY’. He set it down before he could be caught looking at it too intently. It wasn’t his intention to become an intruder.

“You must hate it in here,” you commented with a smile as you filled two mugs. Unlike the first time he’d sat across from you to drink tea, the cups matched this time.

“What makes you think that?” he asked, amusement trickling into his tone even if he was a bit taken aback by your sudden assumption.

“Well, your place is so minimalist in comparison. Be honest, do you think I’m a hoarder?” you joked, fingertips tapping lightly against the glass cupped delicately in your hands.

“It does kind of look like a thrift store might have blown up in here,” he conceded, smiling wider with each syllable. It seemed to delight you, judging from the way you laughed into the steam drifting up from your tea. “But it all fits together, doesn’t it?”

“Somehow or another,” you agreed, looking around at the crowded spaces of your apartment.

“I definitely see now why all your things were so heavy when you moved in.”

“I already have more than when I moved in.” This admission made Minghao raise his eyebrows in judgement and shake his head with a laugh. Honestly speaking, it didn’t surprise him as much as he acted like it did. For example, he could have guessed the old protest sign propped up on the wall beside your closet door wasn’t something you’d brought all the way across the city. (‘Compassion > Punishment’ it read in large, brightly painted words. Smaller text beneath it that clarified ‘accessible counseling for addicts.’ He wondered if Jeonghan and Jun had ever seen that message when they went scoffing past your group’s demonstration.)

“What are you gonna do when you move again?” he questioned. “You barely made it the first time.”

“Good thing I’m planning on sticking around for a while.” You shrugged.

“Ah, clearly that won’t be good! You’ll just keep collecting even more stuff you’ll eventually want to pack up!” He waved an accusatory hand around at the lovely variety of keepsakes surrounding him.

“Hey, that’s --!” you started as if offended, only to break into a clipped laugh. “That’s true but you don’t have to call me out on it!”

“If I don’t, who will?”

A look flickered across your face that nearly made Minghao regret that response. Not because it was one of anger, or annoyance, but because for a split second he saw your generally friendly countenance slip into something deeper. There was a fondness that he hadn’t been prepared to spot in the curve on your lips and the gleam in your eyes.

“You’re not gonna convince me to throw anything out, though. You realize that, right?” You took a guess as to what plots Minghao could have in mind while pointing out just how many sentimental things you kept around the house.

“I wouldn’t dream of it. I can recognize a lost cause, thank you very much,” he replied with a teasing twitch to his smile. It would do better than saying he already felt he had no power over you; that he had no will to deny you anything that made you happy. You looked surprised by his comment for a moment, but the spark in your gaze was enough to assure him that you weren’t offended.

The rhythm of raindrops continued against the glass, but it was at this point in the afternoon that both of you noticed the way the room lightened suddenly, light coming through in a few distinct beams. You were the first to stand up, abandoning your tea in favor of going to the window to take in the changing weather. Minghao watched you for a moment before following suit, coming up beside you to see how some of the dark storm clouds were scattering. Even if they still emptied out over the city, they’d parted in enough places to let the sun peek through in places.

“Today turned out nice after all,” Minghao commented on the shift, one hand settled on the frame of your window. In his peripheral, he saw you nod.

“It wasn’t so bad to begin with,” you said after a moment, shoulder leaning into his side to accompany the lighthearted chuckle you gave.

He turned his head to look at you directly. Your gaze was already fixed upon him. He sighed out all hesitation at the sight of you so close. One of you must have been the first to lean forward, but Minghao could never quite recall which way it’d gone. Sometimes he remembered it as a swift rush of courage that sent him reeling towards you; other times it was you, in his mind’s eye, coming closer and looking like you were made of sunbeams yourself before you kissed him for the very first time.

Minghao felt officially that he was living a double life after that rainy afternoon.

He’d already been omitting parts of his life from you, and from his fellow members. It hadn’t felt nearly as risky when you were just the neighbor he was carelessly besotted with. It was different now that he would knock on your apartment door without even going into his own first when he came home at the end of the day. There was far more on the line now that he kissed you on a regular basis.

An evening came when the two of you stumbled down the hall between your doors, kissing all the way. The clumsily, mobile makeout motivated solely by the fact that Minghao had condoms in his bedside drawer where you didn’t. Everything he hadn’t yet mentioned weighed heaviest on his mind that night, as he laid with you in the dark with your head resting on his chest.

“They’re getting to be a bother,” Jihoon commented on the peace activists in the middle of smokey basement one night. “They flooded the place we were gonna have a drop the other night and scared off the dealer.”

“Yeah,” Jeonghan agreed with no shortage of irritation, “It was one thing when they were just shouting about loving neighbors but they’re actually getting in the way now.”

“I heard they got one of NCT’s runners arrested, actually,” Chan offered, only to met with some doubtful jeers. “No, really!”

These kinds of conversations were becoming more common. Minghao was always quiet during them, but he listened attentively.

One day it came: one member pointing out how the activists were far from subtle in their planning. How easy it’d to show up at one of their events. How effective it might be to make a few things painfully clear to the lot of them. How it was beginning to feel necessary to draw a line and ensure each one knew where it was. At this point, Seungcheol pointed out, there were practically a gang unto themselves; with colors and a signature item wrapped around their wrists or arms.

He placed his hopes in the fact that it would still be a low to go after people who outright refused violence, who claimed they wouldn’t take up arms even if they were staring down a gun. There would be no pride or glory in beating any one of them. But pure resentment, Minghao knew with a sinking feeling in his gut, could outweigh these things.

These concerns were almost forgotten the day they came to fruition. He’d been hanging out with a handful of the members like in the early days, before even Minghao himself had realized the extent of what being part of Seventeen meant. There was laughter, and ease, and it was difficult to imagine every feeling betrayal or resentment towards any one of them. The casualness with which his friends brought up crashing a demonstration happening that even crushed him.

He didn’t manage to think of a reason he could give them for why he wasn’t going. Blind urgency made him slip away at the first chance he got.

He needed you to be home. He needed the chance to save you from being there when everything went to hell. He couldn’t let you go. He had to tell you the truth, he thought at first. But then he imagined the truth might drive your good-natured heart over to the demonstration all the faster.

He pounded on your door five times in succession, barely restraining himself from shouting out your name in desperation. As soon as the door opened, he took you into his arms and kissed you fiercely. There was a squeak of surprise that was muffled against his lips. You took a few steps backwards and he mirrored your steps, mouth still heavy on yours with each footfall.

“Minghao,” you panted as you finally broke free, “what--?”

“I love you,” he spilled over with feeling; it was the first time he’d told you that. And the only answer you could manage in that instant was to cup his face and kiss him all over again. He pulled you as close as he could.

Using a route he’d memorized by now, Minghao guided your linked forms over to your bedside. His hands roamed from your shoulders and base of your neck to trail down your spine and splay across your hips. His fingers dug small, desperate circles into the fabric of your clothing and dotted kisses along your cheek. “Tell me it’s okay,” he requested, voice low and dripping in unfettered emotion.

You said his name twice over with your fingers half-tangled in his hair. There was a pause between the repetitions, like you were searching out something important that you needed to tell him. He worried you wanted to tell him you didn’t have time for this right now. That you would insist that there was a gathering you couldn’t miss. He pressed himself closer, knocking the back of your knees into the edge of your mattress in the process.

“Please.” If there’d been any other sound in the room, or perhaps even anywhere else in the building, you likely would have missed the single-worded plea that slipped past Minghao’s lips. His mouth hovered over the skin behind your ear, his nose pressed into your hair. While his hands didn’t relent, he couldn’t bring himself to kiss you again without some kind of encouragement from you.

“I love you too,” you managed to say through a thrumming heartbeat and a familiar rush that came with having Minghao only a few layers of fabric away from you. “It’s okay.”

He had the opposite reaction he’d anticipated at the words. His grip on your hips slipped and he felt himself take a half-step backwards to get a better look at you. Your hands moved down, resting on the front of his shirt instead as a result of his sudden retreat.

“I mean it,” he reiterated, needing you to understand that this wasn’t just a haze of lust compelling him to say heedless things.

“I do, too.”

He was relieved to be looking at you face on when you said it that time, even if indirectly. You were no good at concealing things when it came to your expressions. Deception wasn’t in your wheelhouse to begin with, but sincerity seemed to be your eyes’ only option. He murmured your name as if it were an epiphany, and then he came back to being just as close as before.

You led him down, pulling gently at his shirt as you let yourself sink to your mattress. His head dipped into the crook of your neck as he pressed his lips gradually to every bit of flesh you exposed to him with the slow unbuttoning of your blouse. He was in no rush, happy to linger and backtrack to spots he’d already left damp with open-mouthed kisses.

Once you’d made it to the last button, he helped you in gathering the loose materials and pulling it from your form altogether. The rest of your garments followed shortly after, shirts and pants and undergarments all pooled into one careless pile on the floor beside your bed.

Minghao took his time ensuring no inch of you went untouched. Your soft fingertips sent chills and fire alike across his skin. It didn’t have to be your first time together for this to be the one that truly sent him over the edge. He sought out your lips as if you were his source for oxygen, refusing to move at any pace that would make kissing you all the while any harder.

Everything overwhelmed him at once. He came with repeated stammerings of your name in a groan. It was followed swiftly by a break of breath that got caught in his throat. Your hands came up to his shoulders, your voice turning worried at the sound of his sudden sob. Minghao buried his head into the space on the pillow beside your head, unsure how to explain why he was suddenly crying.

“Talk to me,” you urged him, your arms wrapping tighter around him as he chest pressed into yours with another heave of teas.

“I love you,” he repeated once more. No matter how he racked his brain, this was the only reason he could name for this vulnerable display. You shifted beneath him and kissed his temple gently.

“It’s alright” you whispered against his ear, “Right? You’re okay, Minghao?”

He nodded, and prayed some corner of his mind was memorizing this sensation. Wrapped in your arms, surrounded by your sheets with nothing but your caring voice in his ear. The only term he could think of to summarize it was bliss.

The air had calmed in your apartment. Quiet conversation peppered the otherwise wordless cuddling. The two of you were still tangled up in the sheets when your phone rang a while later.

“Don’t answer it,” he asked of you, arms around your waist and lips brushing against your bare shoulders.

“I have to; they’re probably mad enough I didn’t show up without any warning beforehand,” you told him, confirming his fear that it was a fellow peace protester on your caller ID.

He stayed lying on his side on your bed as you sat up and pressed your phone to your ear. The cheerfulness in your voice as you greeted your friend on the other end of the line disappeared quickly as you listened to her response.

“What? Slow down,” you said, panic already creeping into your tone, “What happened?” Minghao squeezed his eyes shut and tried not to imagine what information must be coming through now. “Where are you now?” you asked, standing up from the bed and beginning to search out clean clothes even with only one hand free. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“No, no -- stay there. No, I promise. I’m not letting you leave there alone. Just give me… twenty minutes? Is that okay?” You drummed your fingers nervously against your dresser as you listened to the response. “Of course it’s fine. I’m gonna be there for you, okay? Just hang in there a little longer.”

You didn’t stop getting ready to leave the whole time your shaken voice tried to summarize what had happened to Minghao. Your friend had called from the police station, where she had just been giving a statement on exactly how a nonviolent demonstration had gone to hell.

By gang standards, the damage was minimal. Mostly bruises, with a few broken bones that had sent two or three peace protesters to the hospital for casts and splints.

“I’m sorry, I have to go,” you told Minghao when he reached out for your hand. All he wanted was to comfort you. Or maybe to seek forgiveness even if you weren’t mad at him yet.

“You should take this off,” he suggested, one finger hooking through the slack of the white ribbon tied around your wrist. “I don’t like the thought of you going out there with a target painted on your back.”

“It’s not,” you tried to argue, shaking your head with your bottom lip caught between your teeth in distress.

“If they’ve decided it’s okay to come after those involved in the anti-gang protests--” And it took more effort than he’d anticipated to say they rather than we, “-- then it is now.”

This convinced you. And knowing you’d left the ribbon on your bedside table was the only relief he had for the rest of the day.

There was no place he felt certain of himself after that. It tore at his heart to be away from you, worrying that you could end up with even minor injuries. It troubled him all the more to picture those he considered brothers as the ones who would inflict them. But guilt clawed too often at his throat when he was with you now.

A number of instances passed where Minghao began to think of ways to come clean to you. Usually, it was in the moments when you were frowning at your phone screen or quietly agonizing over things he couldn’t bring himself to ask you explain.

Two feeble reasons let him sleep beside you all the same. The truth would only hurt you more. He could do more to keep you safe by keeping his own affiliation from you.

But his choice in the matter of honesty was ripped away from Minghao one afternoon in a matter of minutes, with hours that passed before he found out himself.

Nevertheless, he knew something was wrong as soon as he reached the stop of the stairs that evening. When he turned to head down the hallway to his apartment’s locked door, he saw you sitting on the floor in front of it. Your eyes were closed, head leaning back against the poorly painted wood. Smears of makeup on your cheeks gave away that you had been crying.

Minghao rushed to close the distance, immediately crouching in front of you to ask what was wrong. He asked who hurt you with his gaze scanning desperately over your form without seeing any signs of injury.

Too many moments tick by with you remaining silent in the face of his anxious questions. “Please be honest with me,” you stated after a moment, opening bloodshot eyes to meet his at last. He nodded with only the desire to help you blaring in the front of his mind.

“You’re with them, aren’t you? You’re part of…” You failed to finish the rephrasing, but he could see it all in the mistrust and heartbreak that colored your expression. He crumpled forward, forehead nearly touching your shoes. This was not enough to satisfy your hurt. “Tell me. Minghao, tell me yourself!” Your voice cracked over the demand, and he knew that you were crying all over again.

“How did you find out?” he asked lieu of giving you the concrete confession that you sought. He couldn’t bring himself to lift his head to look at you. He felt he could barely move an inch, as though his bones were suddenly made of thousand-ton stones.

Your crying kept you from being able to answer right away. It was difficult to endure your weeping when he knew he was the cause of it all. “Two of them were looking for you. All I heard was pounding on the door and people calling your name,” you managed to tell him once your sobs began to settle, “They both had Seventeen’s colors on anyway but they said plenty to make it clear who they’re with when I asked why they were looking for you.”

Frantically, he looked back over his day to try to figure out when he’d been apart from both you and them. To try to deduce who must have come to drag him out of his apartment, and to figure out from that alone how bad whatever you’d heard had been. But focus escaped him and shattered every coherent train of thought he started. “They didn’t hurt you, did they?” He asked the only thing that mattered in the end. “Please, tell me that you--”

“I’m fine.” They were difficult words to believe when they wavered with the remnants of tears. He saw your feet move first, shuffling away and pressing back into the door behind you as you stood up shakily. He lifted his head to look up at you desperately. “Let me go,” you said breathily. It must have been that eye contact alone was holding you in place.

He heard your door slam. He could swear he heard your crying continue from down the hall, despite two closed doors in between you.

Minghao stayed away from the apartment as much as he could in the days that followed. The thought of casually running into you was practically devastating. He didn’t need to be told that you were hurt or that you needed space. As aware of that as he was already, he also needed it just as much.

He didn’t offer any reasons to his friends why suddenly he was back into patterns of staying out all night and crashing at their various places more and more frequently. In particular, Mingyu didn’t seem to need any justification for it all. As small hours crept up and exhaustion slipped onto Minghao’s face, Mingyu would shoot him a sympathetic look and suggest they go get a few hours of sleep in.

He saw you in public once in the two weeks that came. From behind a police barrier set up to ensure the safety of the protestors, you made eye contact with him while you were in the middle of echoing back a chant about eliminating violence to the young woman shouting with a turned-over recycling bin as her podium. Your mouth stilled when he didn’t avert his eyes.

A voice chimed in inside his head, telling him harshly that he ought to turn and go as quickly as possible. This was as bad as any other imagined run-in he’d been working so hard to avoid, if not worse. Something in your gaze kept him glued to the spot all the same. With the distance, it was difficult for him to make out exactly what it was he was seeing in your steady eyes. Beyond the obvious hurt, and the surprise at seeing him in this context, there was something more that made his tongue go dry and his throat close up.

A girl by your side placed a hand on your shoulder and drew you out from your dazed stare. He watched you shake your head and give an unconvincing smile. Before she could start scanning the crowd for the cause of your changed demeanor, Minghao turned sharply on his heels and ducked his head as he began to walk away.

Four more days came and went before he heard your voice again. Just as your eyes had done, it froze him in place when it came drifting through his door.

It had started with a knock on his door some time after the sun had already sunk beyond the horizon. He’d gotten up to answer it only to stop with his hand on the doorknob when he heard you call his name from the other side.

“Don’t open the door,” you instructed. You sounded closer than even a moment before, and he imagined you leaning against the door. “Just tell me if you’re there.”

The choice of staying quiet occurred to him. If he did, there was a good chance you’d just walk away. Whatever you had to say, he wouldn’t have to find out what part of him it would break to hear. The option of opening the door came to mind as well. He could see you again, closer than he had at that last demonstration. Maybe he’d be able to catch whatever it was in your look that had been keeping him up at night.

“I’m here,” he replied, only just loud enough to be carried through the barrier between the two of you.

Thirty seconds passed before you began, “I need you to know, Minghao.” With those few words, he was already biting into the inside of his cheek, berating himself for letting hope flicker to life in his guy.

Whatever it was you wanted to tell him, you struggled to bring yourself to say it. There was an excruciating pause of silence after the preamble. His fingers shifted their loose hold on the doorknob, falling away with the thought that perhaps you’d lost the courage to speak to him already.

“What is it?” he swallowed thickly after asking, his voice giving away his fear that you’d already walked away more so than his words did.

“I still love you,” you said at last, softer than you’d spoken before. Minghao pressed his forehead to the door, disbelief and guilt coming over him in waves that were stronger than any sense of relief that small phrase could have brought him. “I don’t know what to do with it,” you continued a few beats later, “But it’s still yours. So I… I just have to tell you that.”

“Can’t I see you?” The desire tumbled out his mouth before he could second think it. No answer came beyond a small thump on the other side, leaving him to wonder what part of you had just slumped into the door. “I always meant it,” he added, voice strained with nerves he’d never quite felt when he’d referenced his love for you before.

He just barely made out the sound of his name being whispered tenderly through the door. It pushed the need to see to you to the very top of his list. His hand twisted quickly around the handle, and he only stepped as far away from the door as he absolutely had to in order to open it. The sudden movement sent you off balance, half your weight having been leaning into the door from one shoulder. You nearly crashed into him as you came unwittingly into his apartment.

Neither of you made any move to get rid of the sudden proximity. Your hands find his first, tentative and cold fingers lacing into his hold without a word.

“I wasn’t gonna do this,” you admitted with only a hair's width between the two of you. It’s a bad idea, he read in your worried lines of your face. He gave a few centimeters of a nod. He understood well enough how impossible a situation this was.

“Should I let you go?” It would tear his heart out all over again, but he would comply if you told him it was what you wanted. But you shook your head in refusal and grazed your lips against his own.

Neither of you sought a solution that night. The yearning you both had felt in the absence of each other came spilling out in breathy, half-said words. Effortlessly, the two of you sunk blindly into the pool of sheets on his bed. Minghao watched you move over him with adoration and the need to rediscover all you burning at his fingertips.

You pulled at his clothing, interrupted several times over when he’d guide your frantic hands to his lips to kiss them gently. There were no apologetic words that could possibly express as much repentance and care as the way he held you. His hands moved with cautious appreciation, his gaze always gauging if you were still sure this was what you wanted. Every slow kiss you gave him in return sent pulses of comfort through his whole entire being.

“What are we gonna do?” you asked in a whisper when the morning light was finally pushing through his half-closed curtains. He kept his arms around you and confessed he didn’t know.

“It can’t work like this,” you put it into the simplest terms you could find.

“I know,” he agreed, sorry eyes scanning over your face. “I can’t just leave them.”

“I know,” you echoed his own sentiment, your fingers tracing a pensive, senseless pattern against the skin of his chest. “They’re why you’re okay, aren’t they?” It’s more insight than he’d expected from you. But for all the shouting you did against gangs, it turned out you weren’t blind to the hows and whys of what let them flourish.

At the same time, it was more complicated than that. They were his friends, the closest he’d had in his entire life, but walking away wasn’t something they would let him do without consequences. Especially not if they traced the cause of it back to you. He did his best to make these conflicting thoughts clear to you.

“We could go,” you proposed later. The two of you had still yet to get up from his bed at the time. “We could get away from here.”

Wouldn’t that just be running away from your problems? This thought was closely followed by quiet realization that your leaving could be something else entirely. You’d be removing yourself from a cause you’d poured so much of yourself into.

“This is your home,” he reminded you softly, “You don’t really want to leave it behind.”

“But,” and you sat up some as you began, looking at him earnestly, “Isn’t this what I’ve been trying to convince people of for so long?” Love over violence. Life over hate. He could hardly remember which way that chant went.

After a day spent closed up together in his apartment, it was that evening that the two of you packed a bag each and made your way hand-in-hand to the station. A map was scanned for somewhere miles and miles away. One way tickets were bought, and hours were spent in a quiet serenity sat beside each other in a train car.

It was raining in the town where the two of you got off. Standing on the platform with your hair dampening and a smile on your face, Minghao found himself thinking back to your abandoned apartments, to all the belongings left behind that would gather dust before the landlord would realize that two tenants had disappeared.

“Hey,” he pulled you a bit closer to him, “You’ll tell me if you ever regret this all, won’t you?”

“Do you?” you questioned in return, concern coming into your eyes quick enough to make him nearly regret saying it to begin with.

“Not at all.” He kissed for good measure, pressing sincerity to your tongue. So long as you didn’t feel trapped by the impulse choice you’d made together, Minghao couldn’t imagine regret ever finding him for this.

Even if the two of you had come here with hardly any plan at.

(The only plan there was, he realized while laying beside you in a quiet motel room that night, was the same as one that had been on a banner you’d once waved in the middle of an idealistic crowd. Give love a chance.

So he did.)

#seventeen scenarios #xu minghao scenarios #minghao scenarios #the8 scenarios #seventeen imagines

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artificialqueens · 6 years

Text

Gold Dust Woman Ch. 3 (Shalaska) - Citrus

A/N: sorry for taking so long to update this, and i’m sorry it’s so short! i’m actually a lot further along than you’d think ;) special thanks to kacie (pureCAMP) for betaing!! <3

Once their stop came, Sharon led Alaska through the apartment building lobby and into the elevator, where they ascended to reach a long hallway. Stopping in front of an apartment numbered 441, the witch got out her keys and unlocked the door, pushing it open. “Take my hand,” she requested, holding it out to Alaska. The blonde took it tentatively, and Sharon pulled her inside, shutting the door behind them. “Sorry. Protection spells. Can’t remember if I made a barrier or not, but it’s touch activated ‘cause I’m lazy. As long as you’re touching me, you can get through.”

The interior was nowhere near as nondescript as the front door; from what Alaska could see, there were books and crystals strewn on almost every surface, and the smell of incense hung thickly in the air. None of those things surprised her; what surprised her was that Sharon’s apartment was big, much bigger than Alaska’s own. To be fair, Alaska worked at a minimum wage job and got bar gigs when she could, but still; Sharon’s apartment was nice, much nicer than Alaska could ever afford, but it was also homey and gave off a welcoming energy. She’d obviously gone to great lengths to make the space feel more natural and earthy, and by Alaska’s judgement she’d succeeded.

Sharon had put up tapestries over the walls– not the white-girl mandala ones you could get anywhere, but ones that depicted pentacles, the sun, the moon, crystal balls, and all sorts of symbols and pictures that Alaska didn’t recognize or understand. There were candles on almost every flat surface, all different shapes and sizes and colors, and jars the contents of which Alaska couldn’t even begin to identify. It was reminiscent of Dead Dandelion in terms of its dim, warmly-lit atmosphere and decor, but something about the apartment was much more authentically… Sharon.

“Your place is really cool,” Alaska mumbled, unsure of what else to say. Sharon grinned, giving her hand a squeeze.

“Aw, thanks, doll.” She dropped Alaska’s hand to scoop up the white-and-black cat rubbing at her legs, and Alaska recognized it as the same one that had been with her at the ren faire. “Hi, baby boy!” she cooed, scratching behind the cat’s ears and kissing the top of its head. “This is Cerrone,” she said to Alaska, cradling the animal in her arms. “He’s my familiar, he helps me with spellwork. Well, when he’s in the mood to.” She chuckled. “Most of the time he just sleeps or cuddles with me or yells for me to feed him.”

“He’s adorable,” Alaska smiled. Sharon kissed the top of Cerrone’s head again.

“Isn’t he just? Gods, I used to hate him, he was a scraggly stray before I took him in. I didn’t even want him to begin with, but he refused to leave and we ended up coming to an understanding, so I guess it was meant to happen.” Setting the cat down gently, Sharon took off her boots and looked in the direction of the kitchen. “Can I get you anything?”

“No, I’m good, thanks,” Alaska replied, taking off her own shoes and placing them neatly by the door. Sharon smiled at the conscientious gesture, but only when she was sure that Alaska couldn’t see.

“You’ll have to play your music for me sometime,” Sharon commented as she crossed the room to open a suitcase-shaped object. Alaska was unsurprised to see that it was a record player, but she found herself enjoying the aesthetic of it all as Sharon sat cross-legged on the floor, flicking through the albums.

“I’m really not that good,” Alaska protested, joining the witch on the floor.

“I’m sure that’s not true,” Sharon waved her off.

Alaska laughed nervously. “No, really,” she insisted, “I don’t want you to have, like, high expectations of me.”

“Don’t be silly, it’s not a big deal. I bet you’re wonderful.” Choosing a record from the box, Sharon slid it out of its case and placed it on the table of the record player, guiding the needle into the grooves and flicking the on-switch. Music began playing quietly from the spinning record, getting increasingly louder as Sharon fiddled with the volume knob.

Rhiannon rings like a bell through the night, and wouldn’t you love to love her? Takes to the sky like a bird in flight, and who will be her lover? All your life you’ve never seen a woman taken by the wind, Would you stay if she promised to you heaven? Will you ever win?

“Fleetwood Mac?” Alaska laughed. “Really?”

Sharon raised an eyebrow at her. “What’s wrong with Fleetwood Mac?”

Alaska shook her head, trying to stifle her giggles. “Nothing, nothing! It just doesn’t seem like you, y’know?”

“Oh don’t get me wrong, I love Manson as much as the next girl, but I grew up on Stevie. I listen to it for the vibes.” Her emphasis on the word “vibes” was accompanied by spirit fingers and a teasing grin, and Alaska giggled.

“Sure, I get it,” she grinned. “Manson does seem more like you.”

“Yeah? You’re right, Lasky, I’ve been a fan since I was ten.”

“Wow, that’s… dedicated.”

“Was that a subtle dig at my age?” Sharon teased. Alaska tipped back her head and laughed freely.

“No!”

Sharon stood up, twirling as she did so and beckoning for Alaska to join her. “C’mon, dance with me. Music feeds the soul, you should know that more than anyone.” Alaska stumbled to her feet, taking the hand that Sharon offered and letting the witch spin her around.

“Do you do this often?” she asked as they danced, moving in time to the music.

“What, the dancing? Not as often as I’d like to,” Sharon said truthfully. “And I’m usually piss-drunk in a dark club when I get to have a pretty girl on my arm.” Her teasing smile made Alaska blush as the witch twirled her under her arm.

They danced to two or three songs on the record, twirling and laughing together as if they’d known one another for a lifetime. Sharon’s energy when she was in her own home was overwhelmingly content and joyful, so different from the mysterious and reserved personality she’d shown at the faire. She was remarkably sweet, teaching Alaska new dance moves and showing her how they could be used to cast spells. When Sharon placed her hands on her waist from behind to help her through the movements, Alaska completely forgot to concentrate on the dance, fixating on Sharon’s solid, guiding touch.

“Intention, Alaska,” the witch reminded her. “Think about what you’re trying to do, what you’re trying to accomplish.” Alaska nodded, letting Sharon guide her through the steps one more time before the blonde huffed in frustration.

“I don’t think I can do it,” she apologized. Sharon shrugged, slowing her movements to a gentle sway.

“That’s okay, honey, it’s not always easy. I just liked dancing with you.”

Alaska smiled. “Me too. It was really nice.” Sharon smiled as she continued to dance, replicating the complex pattern she’d been trying to teach Alaska, the steps coming naturally to her. Alaska watched as she finished her invisible circle and stood in the middle of it, a glowing ball of light appearing between her hands before seemingly being absorbed into her chest.

“Gods, I needed that,” Sharon grinned, shaking her hair out. Alaska gawked.

“What- how did you do that? Was that what magic looks like?”

“It’s not a regular effect of magic use,” Sharon said with a quiet chuckle. “Witches from magical bloodlines can do magic that most other witches can’t do. It’s exceptionally rare, but possible. Here, let me show you.” She offered her hands to Alaska, sitting cross-legged on the floor. Alaska sat down as well, taking Sharon’s hands cautiously. “Trust me, okay?”

Alaska nodded wordlessly, and Sharon closed her eyes. It only took a few moments for Alaska to feel the same warmth traveling through her body, but this time its source was the place where her hands connected with Sharon’s. She gasped softly, feeling inexplicably good. When she opened her eyes, there was a warm glow radiating from Alaska’s hands, and her whole body. Alaska’s eyes met Sharon’s, and the witch’s pupils were blown, her irises shining with the same golden light that radiated from Alaska’s body. The glow dulled in her eyes when they made eye contact, but the warmth in Alaska’s body remained even after Sharon pulled her hands away.

“That’s… amazing,” Alaska whispered, feeling inexplicably energized and calm at the same time.

“You like that?” Sharon chuckled, standing up. “Raja taught me how to do it.”

“If Raja taught you how to do that, I can’t wait to meet her,” Alaska grinned.

Sharon just laughed, getting up to snatch a large purple crystal off of a table. Collapsing back onto the floor, she held the crystal tightly against her chest for a few moments, silent except for her increasingly steady breathing. Alaska watched her, admiring the way her dark lashes fluttered and trying– and failing– not to pay too much attention to her lips. Looking up at Alaska suddenly, Sharon grinned. “You were staring at me,” she said simply, a reaction to Alaska’s look of surprise.

Alaska flushed deeply, her heart racing. “I- How did you-”

The witch chuckled. “I’m clairvoyant, Lasky. Surely you noticed by now?”

“Clairvoyant?”

“Well, only a little. Nothing like Max, she’s far better at seeing than I am. But I inherited my mother’s powers. I can see without seeing, darling, or rather I can sense. I don’t need to look at you to know where you’re looking, how your body is reacting… What you’re feeling…” Her voice was low, and Alaska flushed as Sharon’s blue eyes zeroed in on her and the witch gestured to her lap, putting the crystal aside. “Come here, baby,” she purred.

I’ve been searching for a pot of gold Like the kind you find at the end of the rainbow

Alaska climbed gently into her lap, trying her best not to hurt the witch. Sharon chuckled at her efforts, squeezing the soft flesh of Alaska’s thighs and making her squeal. She guided Alaska’s lips to her own with a steady hand on her cheek, kissing her softly. Alaska tangled her fingers in Sharon’s black curls, slipping her tongue between the witch’s parted lips and deepening the kiss.

I’ve been dreaming, thought it was in vain Ah, but now you’re here, can’t believe that you’re back again Now I know I can’t lose, as long as you follow

Alaska’s hips rocked against Sharon’s in time with the music echoing from the record player, and Sharon broke the kiss to lay Alaska on her back on the soft carpet. Sharon knelt between her thighs, kissing her lips again and sighing into the younger woman’s mouth as Alaska whimpered beneath her. Brown eyes fluttered open, making eye contact with Sharon’s and giving her a relaxed smile. Sharon smiled in return, pressing a kiss to Alaska’s temple before capturing her lips once more.

Now I know I can’t lose, as long as you follow I’m gonna win, I’m gonna beg, steal, or borrow As long as you follow

“Mm, Sharon,” Alaska whimpered as the witch kissed down her neck. “Please…”

“Shhh, shhh,” Sharon cooed in her ear. “We have all the time in the world.”

“What about your ritual?” Alaska remembered suddenly, breaking out of her haze. Sharon bolted up with a start, sitting on Alaska’s thighs and checking the time on her phone.

“Shit, you’re right. If I don’t leave right now I’m gonna be late.” She stood up, hurriedly smoothing down her hair and making sure her lipstick was intact. “I don’t suppose you wanna come?” she asked apologetically. Alaska laughed, letting Sharon pull her to her feet as well.

“Let’s go.”

#shalaska #sharon needles #alaska thunderfuck #gold dust woman #fluff #citrus #rpdr fanfiction #lesbian au

36 notes · View notes

somethinglacking · 6 years

Text

Cruel Angel’s Thesis Chapter 13

Rating: Explicit Archive Warning: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Category: F/M Fandom: Mystic Messenger (Video Game) Relationship:707 | Luciel Choi/Main Character Characters:707 | Luciel Choi, V | Jihyun Kim Mary, Vanderwood 3rd, Jumin Han, Zen | Hyun Ryu, Yoosung Kim, Jaehee Kang, Main Character, Rika, Saeran ChoiUnknown | Ray

Nari smiled at the people checking her passport, the one Saeyoung had given her. She never was a convincing liar, heck even Saeyoung call her out one night, telling her that ‘even Yoosung had a better poker than her. At the time she laughed it off, now, oh now she wished she had that poker face to help her. She had made it through security in Korea, but nowhere in the states, she wasn’t sure she was going to make it. And after her flight she was worn, and stiff. The security guard stamped the little book and nodded her forward. With a huge breath of relief, she moved on to find her luggage.

Nari made a quick stop to the restroom, she took out her toiletries trying to make herself look more presentable after such a long flight. She brushed her hair out, before gathering it into a hair elastic, securing it to the back of her head. She then turned on the water washing her face. She smiled drying herself as she felt more refreshed and awake.

A little while later Nari looked around the airport for a familiar brown-haired man, with a pissy expression. So far she hadn’t even caught a glimpse of anyone remotely resembling him. She contemplated calling Saeyoung, but when she googled the timezone difference she realized he's already been on his own plane coming to her. Nari bit her lip, her phone had been jammed by Sayoung so it could not be traced or called. The only line open to it was the one to his very own phone. All in all, making it worthless at the moment. Now she was in a country and alone standing in the middle of an airport looking around.

With a heavy sigh, Nari gathered her luggage and started toward the front of the building. She was startled when someone tugged at her suitcase she was dragging behind her. “excuse me!” She snapped looking at the other person and her eyes went wide with surprise.

“Sorry figured you'd like some help, jeez.” Vanderwood snapped back crossing his arms.

“Don't just sneak up on a girl!” She scolded and he huffed slightly.

“I thought you saw me.” He explained.”You're not going to last long if you aren't more cautious of your surroundings.”

Then it hit her like a brick. Vanderwood had been testing her and probably hidden on purpose. She sighed closing her eyes for a moment before looking back up at the older man. “I failed.” She admitted and he smirked.

“It wasn’t that surprising that you did.” He said smugly and she huffed grabbing her suitcase and began toward the exit. Vanderwood to himself, but allowed her to throw her tantrum, and followed a few steps behind.

The drive was long, and silent except for some American radio station playing the ‘latest pop hits’ that had Nari internally groaning. She understood why Saeyoung had her come before him, but leaving her alone with agent Vanderwood was a far cry in the terms conversationalist that her loud, and the usually rowdy boyfriend was. If she was being completely honest with herself, she couldn’t remember the last time she had been left in a state of silence for so long. Without even knowing each other for very long, her boyfriend's loud personality and presence was something she was now accustomed to. Plus if she was looking for conversion, and Saeyoung was unavailable shed usually boot up the RFA app and chat with the others.

“Do I dare ask how much farther we have left to go?” She asked wincing at the sound of her voice in the quiet car.

“An hour.” was the older agents curt reply.

“Can I at least turn up the radio?” Nari asked and the agent looked sideways at her turning up the damn radio for her. Nari snorted at his expression as she turned back to look out the window.

Later that day they finally made it up to Saeyoung’s share real estate with Vanderwood. Nari must say she was impressed with the rather small, but still bigger than the bunker, mountainside two-story modern style house. It was indeed quite and rather remote if the five-hour drive from the airport was any indication. She realized this is a place that the agents probably used while on a mission here in America. That thought sent her lips curling downwards as she walked towards the front door.

From basically living at Saeyoung’s, bunker the open concept with the wall long windows allowing natural light to shine in, was a little bit of a shock. She didn’t really know what she was expecting from her boyfriend’s mountain home, but in her minds, it was more of a cave, much as the bunker was. Nari moved her eyes to the first room she met, it was well furnished for a place rarely used. The kitchen was open with an island separating it from the living room, and had bar stools set up at it. The living room had a modern looking fireplace, and one wall lined with a TV Nari seat her bags at the door walking more into the house eyeing the glass staircase leading to an overlook that has a couple doors.

“Both bedrooms has its own bathroom, Zero Seven’s room is here on the second floor threw that door.” Vanderwood pointed to a door. “ My room is the one down here, there is a bathroom we don’t really touch if you want your own.” He continued and Nari hummed taking it all in. “It’s small but for the price and location it was ideal.”

“Three bathrooms, and two bedrooms…. That’s rather odd.” Nari commented checking out the already stocked cupboards in the kitchen.

“It’s four bedrooms. Three bedrooms are upstairs, but one we use two to keep necessary equipment for Zero Seven, and the other we keep our weapons.” Vanderwood explained. Nari froze at the mention of weapons.

“I see…” She responded and continued with her exploration as if hearing that they had weapons, was the most normal thing. She could tell Vanderwood was analyzing her as he dropped such information on her, seeing if she would show any signs of weakness. She chewed the inside of her cheek as she wandered up the stairs.

Nari came first to a door that overlooked the living room. She opened the door to find a king size bed all made up nice, in the middle of a spacious room, with a door off to the left, clearly the bathroom. He eyes felt heavy just looking at the comfortable bed, clearly welcoming her. She smiled sleepily walking over to it. Jet lag was real, and it hit like a wall of bricks, as she kicked off her shoes sitting on the edge of the bed. She mummed laying back into the plush pillows and drifted off into a blissful sleep.

Seven looked at the familiar house, there was the soft glow of lights on behind the curtains on the first floor. He let out a sad sigh, knowing about his arrival had actually meant. Now Nari would start her training, and he would be working to make sure the three of them would be making it out of this thing alive.With a heavy heart, he took a deep breath and made his way toward the front door. He dropped one of his bags, and tested the door knock, and sighed in relief when it was locked. Not that he doubted Vanderwood, but he was glad to see they were taking precautions. He dug into his bag looking for his own key when he heard the door click and watched it open to reveal a very tired looking Vanderwood.

“It’s about damn time.” Vanderwood hissed looking the other agent up and down. Seven righted himself as he flashed a cheeky grin at the older male.

“Madam, did you miss me?” Seven teased, and the older male eyed him as he gathered his things walking to the house scanning the interior. He set his bags by the door, eyeing the place in search of her.

“Nari is upstairs asleep,” Vanderwood informed him stepping around the clutter of bags, eyeing them in slight disgust.

“Oh good. I imagine she is jet-lagged.” Seven mused turning toward the kitchen. “Aw, madam you even stocked us with Ph.D. pepper for me.” Seven sang as if it was the most touching gesture in the world. Vanderwood cringed looking at the redhead as he spread his arms wide walking toward the older agent.

“Touch me and I’ll tease you,” Vanderwood warned shooting a glare at the other man. Seven grinned lowering his arms.

“Any word from the boss?” Seven than asked grabbing on the sweet soda’s and cracked it open. Vanderwood watched as the hacker took a long drink from the can before speaking.

“They’ve been quiet… You are finishing your jobs one time, and the boss is pleased with the development.” Vanderwood explained walking toward his own room, as Seven nodded looking up the stairs. “Get some rest, Zero Seven.” Vanderwood order opening his bedroom door, and closed it behind himself. Seven stood there for a few more moments contemplating into his Ph.D. pepper.He finished his fizzy drink and set the can on the counter. With a heavy sigh, he made his way over to his bags, and gather them and made his way up the stairs.

Saeyoung quietly opened his bedroom door and smiled looking at the girl sprawled out on his bed. His love and his life looked so peaceful hopefully dreaming sweet dreams. She looked at her pile of bags and sighed, moving to places his beside hers. He then opened his book bag, grabbing a fresh pair of clothes and bathroom supplies before making his way into his now shared bathroom to quickly wash off before planting himself in front of his computer.

Nari woke and jolted upward, and a sigh left her lips as she looked around the unfamiliar room she was in. Daylight streamed in through the half-closed curtains of the window. Nari blinked letting her eyes adjust before she looked around the room. Nari eyed the new pile of bags accompanying her and she threw her legs over the side of the bed. She walked over to the trademark red carrier bags that belonged her boyfriend and smiled. He had finally arrived, and she felt a sense of ease wash over her. She looked to the book bag that was rooted through already and smiled noticing one of his t-shirts peaking out. Nari grabbed it along with some of her own pants, a bag of toiletries and made her way toward the en-suite bathroom.

Nari brushed out her hair and started the shower testing the temperature. When it felt ready she stripped out of her clothes and stepped under the spray of the water. She let out a sigh as the water soothed her strained muscles and she began to let it wash away all the stress of the last few days. They were here, together finally, and everything went according to plan. She didn’t have to worry any longer. She lathered her hair in her favorite sweet-scented shampoo, taking the time to thoroughly massage her scalp.

Once she rinsed off and stepped out of the shower she toweled herself off gently and proceeded to get dressed. She took a moment to inhale the scent of her boyfriends as she proceeded to put on his shirt. She smirked to herself looking at how baggy it was on her figure. She tugged on her jeans and exited the bathroom.

“Uh… Hey, …are you wearing my shirt?” Her boyfriend asked looking her up and down. Nari smiled running at him and wrapped her arm securely around his middle and burying her face in his chest. She felt the small quack in him as he wrapped his arms around her holding her close.

“I never want to be separated from you again,” Nari whispered rubbing her face on his chest taking in his comforting smell. Saeyoung chuckled lightly resting his head on hers while rubbing comforting circles on her back.

“I love you.” He whispered sounding broken and defeated. Nari pulled back from him to see him biting back tears. Her eyes watched his as she reached up to caress his face. She closed the distance between their lips, placing sweet lingering kisses. She didn’t know what was wrong, but she wanted to take his pain away, she always wanted to take his pain away.He hummed returning her affections.

“I love you too, Saeyoung,” Nari assured him lips still lightly brushing his. His hands moved from her waist and grabbed her hips pulling her closer to him as he licked at her bottom lip. Nari hummed tangling her hands in his hair gladly letting him deepen and lead the kiss. She arched herself into his enjoying the sweet taste of his favorite combination on his tongue.Saeyoung lightly rolled his hips into her as a knock at the door interrupted them.Still intertwined with one another they broke the kiss and both huffed an annoyed sigh.

“Who is it~” Saeyoung sang at the door, and the man on the sigh groaned at his stupidity

“You know who it is.” He grunted out and Nari buried her face into Saeyoung. “Look I know Nari is in there with you, I expect her downstairs in ten.” Was all he said before the listened to the man retreat down the stairs.

“Tsk.” Saeyoung released the woman currently latched onto him. “You’re probably still tired from the jet lag, look if you’re not up to begin your training-”

“Oh, we already started.” Nari cut him off releasing her own hold stepping away from him. “And I failed miserably.” She sighed offering a soft smile to her boyfriend.

“What do you mean you’ve already started?” Saeyoung asked with worry clear in his voice.

“Nothing big, just that he was testing my ability to take in my surroundings at the airport,” Nari assured her boyfriend hauling the shirt over her head, grabbing a sports bra from her bag.

“Excuse me.” Was all Saeyoung said before leaving their room and shut the door behind himself a little harder than necessary. Nari flinched slightly looking where her boyfriend stood just a moment ago. She sighed grabbing his shirt and reapplying it to her body, tying it tight around her middle, before she changed into some yoga pants. She had a sneaking supposition that Vanderwood wished to begin training her right away. She grabbed a pair of sneakers and made her way out of the room. She raised an eyebrow listening to the men down stair speak in harsh hushed tones.

“What do you mean you didn’t go right to her at the airport?” Saeyoung hissed.

“I was seeing how observant she was,” Vanderwood explained sounding bored with Saeyoung’s tantrum.

“What if something happened to her?” Saeyoung accused and the other man sighed loudly.

“I was watching her, nothing was going to happen,” Vanderwood assured him, looking up toward the top of the stairs as Nari was standing on the overlook.

“Nari, I mean it, if this gets to be too much for you…” Saeyoung started and Vanderwood snorted.

“She knows what she is getting herself into.” Vanderwood snapped tiredly of the conversion. Nari sighed making her way down the stairs and walked toward the two men in the kitchen.

“Let’s do this!” She smiled sitting on a bar stool to put on her sneakers. Saeyoung sighed moving toward her.

“Don’t overwork yourself.” Saeyoung pleaded and Nari shot him a warm smile.

“The reason we are here is so you both can train me, right?” Nari assured him and Vanderwood sighed again.

“You can’t baby her, if we want to get her to our level we’ll have to train her like an agent,” Vanderwood explained and Saeyoung nodded.

“Give me your worse boys!” Nari chimed pulling her hair up to secure it behind her head, as both men stopped to stare at her. She blinked a few times before blushing. “My god! BOYS HEAD OUT OF THE GUTTER!” She yelled standing up and making her way outside.

“Your ass looks great!” Luciel called after her, and she flipped him off opening the door and closing it behind her.

“Could you both not be gross.” Vanderwood sighed pinching the bridge of his nose following after the girl.

“Negative!” Seven called after him grabbing a soda from the fridge, before following his companions outside.

Nari has showered for a second time that day after the intense work out the agents had her undergo. She smiled to herself remember Vanderwood praising her stamina and the look of surprise when Saeyoung let it slip that she use to be a dancer whilst in med school. But now her body felt spent, and her joints ached. She was dressed in a loose pair of shorts, and one of her own t-shirts. She stretched slightly looking around the bedroom, and let out a sigh exiting the room.

Nari looked into the cluttered computer room, looking into the faint glow of the monitors. She sighed, making her way in toward her boyfriend was set up typing like mad. He hadn’t rested since they arrived and she was worried. She could hear the blasting music coming from his headphones, as he bobbed his head to beat. He was way too engrossed in whatever he was working on. She spied the growing pile of Ph. D pepper, and a huge box of honey buddha chips in the corner. She sighed picking up a few stray empty bags haphazardly tossed behind that redheaded man. With an arm full she left the room quickly to properly dispose of the garbage despite her worn out protesting muscles.

“You shouldn’t be cleaning up after him,” Vanderwood commented sitting on the couch reading something while the TV was on a random English news station.

“I don’t mind, really. I just want to be useful.” Nari assured the older agent as she tossed the trash, and started to make her way back up the stairs.

“I’ll never understand how he managed to land a catch like you.” Vanderwood mused offering her a small smile before returning to his book. Nari smiled at the agent for a moment more, before continuing her journey up the stairs.

Naru re-entered the room her boyfriend had himself cooped up too. She smiled fondly listening to him sing to himself softly as he typed on his computer. She closed her eyes taking in his voice, it was her favorite sound in the world. She sighed shutting the door before walking further into the room, and wrapping her arms around his shoulders, startling him. He reacted up removing his headphones and turning in his chair causing Nari to release her hold on him.

“Hey-” He said softly looking at the tired woman standing in front of him, wrapping his arms around her middle pulling her forward into him. She smiled humming running fingers through his messy locks.

“Hey-” She whispered back as he snuggled his head into her chest, taking a deep breath. “You should get some rest.”

“I can’t relax.” He told her looking up into her liquid honey eyes. She smiled down at him running her fingers along his cheekbone.

“Hmmm… Anything I can do to help?” She said and he chuckled shaking his head.

“Not really, I’ll sleep when my brain doesn’t have enough power to keep me awake anymore.” He explained pressing kisses along her collarbone before releasing his hold turning back to the computer as it dinged. Nari internally sighed as his fingers went back to work at his keyboard. She stepped forward wrapping her arms around his shoulders again and buried her face in his hair. He hummed softly as she placed loving kisses to his crown, and continued typing away at the keyboard.

“Are you doing a new job for the agency?” Nari than inquired and he grunted a positive shifting himself in his seat rubbing at his tired eyes under his glasses. Nari sighed moving her fingers from his shoulder to his temples and started rubbing slow circles, he sighed softly.

“That feels amazing.”He cooed kissing her wrist for a moment before turning his attention back to the screen before him.

Nari kept massaging his temples in hopes it would relax him enough to go to bed, but it seemed to be encouraging him to continue his work tenfold. Nari bit her lip giving her redheaded nerd an unamused look he couldn’t see deciding on a new approach. She leaned in and nibbled at his earlobe causing all the air in his lungs to hiss out, and his fingers stopped moving. Nari smirked licking up the shell of his ear before planting messy kisses down the side of his neck causing him to let out a throaty noise.

“Nari-” He started as she bit down lightly at his pulse. She swung the chair around and captured his lips under hers, clearly downplaying games. His breathing was already getting labored as she made her way into his lap.Saeyoung hummed running him down her figure thrusting his tongue impatiently into her mouth. Nari moaned softly wrapping her tongue around his as his hands found her ass, pulling her even closer. Nari messed his hair with her fingers as she devoured his mouth with her own. Eventually, they had to part for air, their chest meeting each other as they panting and stared at each other daze overwhelmed by the passion that had just overtaken them. Their breath mingled as they looked at each other with half-lidded eyes. Nari rubbed her nose on his in small loving circles before pressing a kiss to his cheek. And then another, followed by another as she worked herself down, sliding herself off his lap.

Nari made herself comfortable kneeling in front of him on the floor, glancing to side feeling flush as she did so. She took less than a moment to compose herself before raising her eyes to meet with his. She felt herself throb between her legs at the raw desire this man held for her. She moved her tiny finger toward his belt, but he grabbed her holding them back. His eyes were still dark with lust as her surprised eyes met his,

“You don’t have to do this.” He told her voice thick, and tone low.

“Let me make you feel good Saeyoung,” She whispered sitting up enough to allow his lips to find hers.”Be selfish with me.” She whispered on his lips.

Nari tailed her finger along his erection finding the buckle of his belt. He let out a nervous sigh allowing her to continue to undo it. She bit at his lower lips releasing a breathless sigh as one of his hand found her breast, toying with it within her bra trying to find- “Oooh-” She gasped and he smirked pinching at the peak. Nari kissed his neck as working at the button to his jeans, while his other hand tailed her shirt up. Nari released another coo as she makes it possible for him to remove the fabric from her body. He licked his lips taking in her body as he felt his jeans get looser. She cast him a seductive smirk sitting back from him looping her finger into the fabric giving a slight tug. Saeyoung lifted his hips allowing her to relieve his throbbing cock of the confines, and he released a sigh looking down at her.

Nari smiled up at him licking her hand, and his lips pulled back at the sight. She brought her now moisten hand to his cock and covered its base to tip with her spit. Saeyoung clutched his teeth as he waited his love’s beautifully trained hand work his member.Nari shifted to make herself more comfortable, and get at a better angle before pausing her motions for a moment to reach behind herself and release the clasp of her bra. She ran the straps down her arms and flung the restrictive fabric from her body. Luciel growled looking at her swollen nipples, as she took hold of his member once more.

Saeyoung forgot how to breathe as she licked her tongue at the base of his shaft and ran it up his length, and took a moment to place sweet little kisses at his tip. He felt the urge to bury his hands in her hand and plunge himself deeply into her mouth. Her eyes gazed up at him, glazed over in desire as she took the head between her lips swirling her tongue, and giving a testing suck. “Fuck.” He breathed out his head pulling slightly to the side, feeling his lover smile around him as she pushed him further into her mouth. “Ahh- Shit, Nari~” He whined looking down at what was possibly the most beautiful thing he has ever laid eyes on. She hummed in response to his erection pulling her mouth up it.

“Shit-” He hissed again as she bobbed her head back down taking nearly all of him in, gagging as he hit the back of her throat. All sense leaving him now, Saeyoung wrapped his fingers into her hair, guiding her along with his cock, groaning and panting as his pleasure built. Nari moaned against him as he tugged at her hair, sensed chills of pleasure throughout her, and his sounds made her throb with need.

Saeyoung just about lost it, when he watches Nari slip her hand into her own shorts, and he watched her fingers move under the fabric. He growled slowing the pace of head as he watched hand start to vigorously work herself and she moaned sweetly on his cock. It was in that moment he couldn’t control the urge to come anymore, he tugged harshly on her hair, trying to take her off his cock as he felt his balls tighten, but she resisted him as his seed shot into her mouth. He grunted as he felt her swallow around him, and then her eyes shot open and she released him crying out in pure bliss. The remainder of his ejaculation hit her face and ran down her breast. Saeyoung went limp in his chair panting, as she let her head clasp on his thigh.

“You okay?” He asked running his fingers along her sweaty brow lovingly.

“I’m more than okay.” She assured him turning her head to look up at him. He smiled down at her caressing her face.

“Let’s get some sleep.” He suggested.

“Let’s.” She agreed.

#Mystic Messenger #mysme 707 #707 x mc #707 X Custom MC #Spoilers #Smut #Another Story retelling

10 notes · View notes

group-4blog · 3 years

Text

Labandero, Jim Gelo M.

COMPILATION OF OUTPUTS

ASSIGNMENT #1: Essay Writing

The Captain of the Ship

Way back centuries ago, the world has not been exposed to the technology. From Pre-Industrial Era, most of the things have done manually making it finished longer than expected. The tools are not that accurate may be the reason why it is harder to accomplish things efficiently. Looking forward, there are so many changes as if those existing objects in the history hasn’t left a trace. Say typewriter as an example. Typewriter is a machine for writing in characters similar to those produced by printer's type by means of keyboard-operated types striking a ribbon to transfer ink or carbon impressions onto the paper. But then it is done manually; you cannot proofread a certain task you were writing on the spot. Now in the contemporary era, the famous “Microsoft Word” has been a trend for using essays, short stories, poetry and other forms of writing in which you could save works then print as you wish to. That’s far from the typewriter we used to know. Microsoft Word has known for its conveniency that’s why a lot of people used its advantage. Typewriter vanished into the 21st century, letting the new innovative “Microsoft Word” serves the world. Technology became powerful and handy servant for people’s tasks.

There’s this big question, “why technology is a useful servant but a dangerous master?” Technology has its own purpose. There’s a boundary as to where should the technology only takes place. If it has made to be a servant, it shouldn’t defy its master—the people who make them. It has created to be the servant of the world, to contribute for a big change in the Globality. But technology being a threat as it became a master of the game is alarming. Technology has no heart. It has no feelings. It is brutal, cruel and chaotic. If one has declared that humans are the cruelest thing in this world, he/she must not have glanced the technology, think again. One must realize that letting the technology dominate their life, they already given a chance for the technology to be higher than us, the people. If one depends too much in technology, they already given a chance for the technology to become powerful than us. We must, sometimes, acknowledge the traditional and manually-based tool that used to serve our life genuinely. Technology symbolizes the storm. We, humans, are the nature. If the storm planned to destroy the nature, we must plan ahead to takes its advantage. We gave life to technology. Nature gave life to storm. Storm is just a cycle of the nature’s manifestation. It is not yet too late to introduce who’s more powerful than the other. It’s just a matter of mindset. Like a bamboo, learn to be resilient. There are still things technology cannot do—it is to control your mindset and on how you perceive the world. If you let the technology control your life as if you couldn’t live without it, that’s when the technology invades you and already became the master of your life.

We couldn’t deny that technology is a handy servant in this generation. It makes the things smarter and easier than it used to be. Technology helps in a way that it could make things possibly accessible in all forms of communication and giving information. But then, there’s a thin line as to where should the technology put its place. It should never dominant the world. Yes, its conveniency is unbelievably useful, but people should control the technology, not the other way around. Letting the technology reign the world could undoubtably result to chaos and dystopia and this is where the idea emerges that people are now slave to technology. This is where you should spit your pride, build your ego, would you let the technology leads you? Would you let that mere thing decides your path? Are you willing to be the servant? We already knew the answer. Everyone has an answer in their mind. It’s just that we are afraid that something might change. Something bigger that might affect the future. I’ll only leave this statement, “you are the captain of your own ship“, say that you let someone or something drive your wheel, it’s the fact that you already have been lost to the middle of the merciless waves of life.

ASSIGNMENT #2: Filipino Culture I like and hate the most

There are countless cultures and values that exist here in the Philippines. Since Filipino is kind of creatively devoted to tradition, cultures and values became dynamics that they continue to arise and born as time passes by. Some examples of values and cultures will be mentioned in the foreword topics.

Variety of a Filipino's Cultures and Values

1. Pakikisama

According to the results of the survey, the Filipino trait most taken up was Pakikisama. This indicates that this is a typical Filipino trait. Pakikisama refers to an interpersonal relationship where people are friendly with each other. To be with someone and to get along with each other indicates basic human friendliness and affinity. The fact that this tendency was most taken up in Filipino trait studies means that Filipinos are friendly and feel strong affinity towards others. From my own personal experiences, and accounts from foreigners whom I’ve met, Filipinos are friendly. This can be considered as a result of very friendly and amicable tendencies.

2. Hiya (Shame)

The Tagalog word Hiya indicates shame, disgrace, embarrassment, sense of modesty and manners, and to lose face. The word involves inadequacy, anxiety, feelings of timidity and reservation (Andres 1989 & 1996; Jocano 1997). Carson-Arenas (2004) defines Hiya as a spreading sense of inferiority. The trait is characterized by the Filipinos low sense of value as an individual and independence, as well as deference to authority.

3. Amor Propio

Amor propio means self-esteem, with the meaning expanding to confidence, pride, strength, competence, and aptitude that one is a useful and necessary asset to the world. According to Carson-Arenas (2004), Amor propio represents the need of the Filipino to be treated as a person, not as an object. In other words, it is the desire to be not a gear of an organization, but a person who will move the organization. Andres (1996) defines this trait as a Spanish word which literally means self-love because of Amor propio Filipinos in organizations strongly wish to be recognized as a person who is valuable to the organization. They want to be someone the organization needs, even someone the organization cannot survive without.

4. . Hospitality

Filipino hospitality is a trait that refers to the warm welcome that the Filipino gives to visitors who come to his or her home, especially strangers and foreigners (Carson-Arenas 2004). As mentioned in the section for Pakikisama, Filipinos are friendly people by nature, especially to foreigners and they offer great hospitality to visitors. This kindness of the Filipinos is one reason they are loved by tourists. It is easy to imagine that this hospitality will be exhibited not only when foreigners come to the Philippines, but also when Filipinos go to foreign countries to work as social supporters and caregivers. This is another aspect which shows that Filipinos have a vocation for social support.

5. Ningas Cogon

Ningas Cogon indicates a tendency to be enthusiastic when beginning something, but eventually losing that enthusiasm after a time. At the beginning of a task, energy and enthusiasm will gain speed to reach a climax, but when there ceases to be more excitement or challenge in the task, one will lose interest and passion (Carson-Arenas 2004, Avelino & Sanchez 1996). To be easily warmed up, but just as easily cooled down explains the Filipino trait of Ningas cogon.

Cultures and Values I like

Despite numerous cultures and values found in the Philippines, there are certain things that caught my attention, the values and cultures I lived from the start and continue to thrive this world with the principle of Filipino I adopted. These are the following:

1. Bayanihan

This trait involves cooperation and bonding with people. According to Andres (1989), Bayanihan is the Filipino value that denotes camaraderie among the people in the community and helping one another in time of need. A Filipino proverb that depicts this value is kung sama-sama, kayangkaya (if we are together, we can do it). Etymologically speaking, Bayanihan comes from the Tagalog word “bayani” which means “hero”. Bayanihan, therefore, represents spontaneous activeness to heroically help others, and Bayanihan spirit indicates the bonding of team members feelings in order to achieve a particular goal.

The fact that the word hero does not link with authority, but with the results of cooperation shows that this is a Filipino trait of a mutual supporting nature. The reason why I chose this value is because I learned to realize as I reflected that in these trying and uncertain times, “Bayanihan” should grow in everyone’s hearts. If this value achieves to discern the common goal, then our ideal system would prevail

2. Utang na Loob

It means inner debt of gratitude (Carson-Arenas 2004). This is the tendency to feel grateful to a person who has extended a kindness to them. The term indicates deep gratitude towards the person who has extended kindness, and the heartfelt wish to repay for the kindness. Mendez & Jocano (1974) state that one will feel Utang na loob, that is, inner debt of gratitude in the following everyday life situations: borrowing money, receiving food, getting employed or being promoted, free diagnosis made by a doctor. Typical examples of this trait will also be seen when a family member is saved in times of disasters such as war, fire, typhoons. To the person who was saved, he/she cannot immediately or fully repay the person who saved him/her. This person will feel that he/she can never repay with mere material items. One will feel Utang na loob the strongest in these cases.

According to Feliciano (1990), Utang na loob is an interior law which dictates that the recipient of a good act or deed behave generously toward his benefactor as long as he or she lives. This is very close to the Japanese concept of moral indebtedness and debt of gratitude. This is one of the powerful values that Filipinos have as it depicts camaraderie despite hardships and the eagerness to help despite you don’t have anything to give but the sooner days pass by, you’ll exchange the kindness. You helped someone already then gain social interaction, or even friends, that happened to the strangers not just for the people who knew each other long due.

Cultures and Values I hate

1. Bahala Na

In situations that become problematic, are unable to be resolved, and one ends up in a tight corner, Filipinos will usually say, Bahala na (Avelino & Sanchez, 1996). Bahala na, or come what may indicates the tendency of Filipinos to resign oneself into the hands of destiny or fate. This come what may will lead to Que sera, sera (What will, will be), and no matter what happens, Filipinos believe that it is the work of fate. Palispis (1995) states, that Filipinos believe in fate, and that they have no control over their destiny. Their struggling life must be endured because it is the will of God. One must remember that we should not put the wheel of our fate to any deity or supreme beings beyond us. They are true but a very powerful thing for your dreams or challenges to overcome is to let Him be your guidance with actions you must do. Better the effort to be wasted than to regret that you failed to accomplish your problem without doing your best

2. Extreme Family Centeredness

According to Andres (1989, 1996) this trait is a strong and innate characteristic of a Filipino. Wherever he or she is, family ties remain. This is the cause of trouble in international marriages between Filipinos and Japanese, because of the financial aid the Filipino spouse will extend to family in the Philippines. It also leads to the extreme way of thinking that theft is justified if it is for the benefit of the family. I don’t see anything wrong with prioritizing your family but we should remember that everything in too much is detrimental. Extreme family centeredness or “close family ties” often leads to Nepotism—the practice among those with power or influence of favoring relatives or friends, especially by giving them jobs, and Political Dynasty—typically characterized as families that have established their political or economic dominance in a province and have coordinated efforts to move on to involvement in national government or other positions of national politics that treats people prominence. It is a very strong family protection whether it is in good or bad condition and situation (consentidor)

PERFORMANCE TASK #1: Poster Making

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