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jimlingss · 4 years

Text

Kitchen Romance

➜ Words: 11.1k

➜ Genres: 95% Fluff, 5% Angst, Chef!AU

➜ Summary: You come from a long line of matchmakers. Your ancestors' ancestors were matchmakers and it's all because of a special, inborn gift. A gift that allows you to see each person's fated ones above their heads. But it's not so much a gift when one day, your boss walks in with YOU above him.

cr.

The kitchen is in chaos.

The heat swelters in the still air, stifling with the summer warmth that’s forced most people indoors with air conditioning. But here, there’s no such privilege. Not when open fires on frying pans were at every stovetop and grease was splattering everyone like a water fountain show. You feel yourself being roasted alive, a layer of oil sitting on top of your skin, and there’s barely a moment to wipe away the sweat rolling from your hairline. Your hands are wrinkled as you scrub down the nth dish from the pile that’s stacked above your head, but before you can finish, Taehyung’s desperately calling out for you. You shout back at him that you’re coming and then you’re helping him peel the potatoes. There’s no room to complain. Especially not when— “What is this?!” For a moment, time itself stops. The pandemonium halts, fire flickering, knives held mid-air. Everyone’s head has swiveled over to the dark-haired man standing at the end of the island. Kim Seokjin holds up a plate of baked salmon with methi prawns. His plump lips are pulled downwards. That’s never a good sign. “The presentation is sloppy!” he yells and you flinch from the sheer volume of his booming voice. “Are you people blind?! We can’t serve this! It’s an embarrassment! Do it again!” “Yes, chef!” Everyone apologizes, including you, and Seokjin huffs, moving out of the kitchen. Namjoon, sous-chef, shakes his head. “Focus! Dinner service hasn't even begun yet!” Luckily, everyone’s on edge and meticulous enough with Seokjin walking around and scrutinizing every action that the rest of the night goes off without another hitch. By the end, you’re finishing up on cleaning and washing the dishes. “Good night, Y/N.” Jihyo waves, bag strap slung on her shoulder. “See you.” You muster a smile while you keep scrubbing. “Bye.” “Night,” Yoongi says while Taehyung fixes you a grin. You watch them leave and then focus on completing the rest of your tasks. It’s not long before you’re switching all the lights off and changing from your uniform. The walk back to your apartment proves to be excruciating. You’re beyond exhausted, lugging your legs along to carry the rest of your body while forcing your eyes to remain open, so you can at least see where you’re going. When the door opens, you immediately jump into the shower to wash off the grime, nearly falling asleep in the process. By the time you flop onto your bed, your hair is still dripping wet, but as your muscles ease into the mattress, you’re knocked out into a deep slumber. Rest is merely a blink of time. The alarm on your phone is blaring before you can dream or feel even remotely refreshed. It’s deafening to your ears and you reach over to shut it off. Finding the sun already up in the sky, you force yourself to sit up, get ready, grab breakfast and eat on your way to work. “If it’s too hard, you should come home,” the voice on the other side of the line coaxes. “Your dad and I are so worried about you sometimes.” “I’m fine, mom.” You’re chewing in your cheek, phone sandwiched between your ear and your shoulder as you parade down the block. “Trust me.” “Have you at least been eating well?” You glance at the granola bar in hand. “Yeah. Sort of.” “The city is scary. There’s no shame in coming home, dear. Your grandma misses you a lot. She always asks about you.” “I’m fine, mom,” you reassure her for the second time. “I really am. And tell grandma—” Accidentally, your shoulder collides with a businessman’s. Apologies spring from you, but rather than looking at the stranger like you should be, your eyes unintentionally wander above his head. To the cloud of fog. And a woman’s smiling face you see emerge from it. The man’s brows lift at how you’re staring into space and he moves out of the way. You’re forced out of your trance and you continue to apologize until he’s completely gone from sight. You damn yourself for not being more careful. You come from a long line of matchmakers. Your ancestors’ ancestors were matchmakers. Your mother once told you that back in the day, some peasants in your family couldn’t sew, sell or do any labour, so they begged heavens and out of pity, they were granted a small gift. A gift that’s been passed down to every generation since. While you’re not sure if the story is true or not, what’s certain is that from the moment you were born, you could see a cloud of fog above everyone’s head. It’s like speech bubbles or thought bubbles in comic strips. But instead of words, the fog comes with another person’s face. It’s the one who they’re meant to be with. Ironically enough, you’ve never seen one above your own head. Though you’ve come to accept that. Romance will never be a major aspect of your life, so you’ve switched gears into focusing on your career and finding fulfillment elsewhere. You also knew early on that you didn’t want to be a matchmaker like the rest of your family. You want to be a— “Good morning, chef.” “Good morning.” Namjoon nods with a smile. “Things weren’t too bad yesterday, but let’s try to be less sloppy for dinner service tonight. Hoseok, what time is the shipment of seafood coming in?” Namjoon continues going through the daily routine, updating each person on the schedule and the shipments. But it’s not long during the morning meeting in the kitchen that the back door creaking can be heard. Instantly, everything comes to a halt. Everyone turns themselves and greets the head chef simultaneously. Seokjin rounds the corner. “We have a lot to do today, people. Tonight’s special is going to be watermelon with smoked salmon mousse—” You gasp. Automatically, your hands lift to cover your mouth, yet too late to muffle the loud noise. Your eyes are as large as saucers. Your heart stutters in your chest, nearly giving out. Instead of the polished brunette woman above Seokjin’s head that was always there, you see someone else. Someone very familiar that you’ve seen in the mirror a thousand times. You. You’re frozen — palms clammy, knees weak. And everyone’s turned around to stare, even Kim Seokjin himself. His brow is cocked and he eyes you intensely for daring to interrupt him. “Are you okay?” Jihyo whispers, leaning in and nudging you with her elbow. You start to breathe again, frantically. Yet no matter how much you gasp for air, you can’t feel the oxygen entering your lungs. But you force yourself to bow your head anyway, retaining an exterior that’s not oozing of sheer panic. “S-S-Sor..ry. I…. have something in my throat.” You clear it and Seokjin sighs, continuing with what he was saying. The first task is to wash the salad and it’s easy enough, but your eyes continue to wander up to the dark-haired, doe-eyed man from across the kitchen. Black shirt with a white apron around his waist, he emanates intimidation from his god-like looks alone and constant frown. Your eyes connect and you instantaneously whip yourself around. You start to sweat when Seokjin beelines to you. “Do you have an issue with me?” You shake your head furiously. “Then focus!” the man spits. “You’re drowning the salad!” You wince as he slams the faucet down. This can’t be. This can’t be it. It doesn’t make sense whatsoever. On your break, you’re crouched over by the bathrooms and much to your dismay, your mom is hysterically laughing at you. “Just because you never saw your match, doesn’t mean you’re alone, Y/N! Poor soul, where did you ever get that idea from? No one can see their own. I didn’t and neither did your aunt or grandma.” “Why didn’t you tell me that?” The syllables hiss out of you and you spare a glance over your shoulder to make sure no one’s coming. You’ve come to accept that you would never be romantically involved with anyone. To find out that Seokjin, your boss, is your match out of everyone, it’s taking you for a hysteric spin. “I thought you already knew!” she exclaims on the other line. “Plus, nothing comes from knowing your own. But who is it? Are you going to bring them home? I would love to know what sort of person is going to end up with my dear daughter. Oh, your grandma will be so excited to hear the news!” “Now’s not the time, mom,” you grieve, palm pressed to your forehead. There’s an overwhelming urge to cry. “I’m never going to end up with him.” “You can’t change fate, Y/N.” “Fate changes all the time.” “Are you okay?” There’s a lower voice behind you and you flinch, turning around to see Hoseok’s alarmed expression. You stand up, apologizing internally as you hang up on your mom. “Sorry. It...was a family emergency. But everything’s fine.” “Okay. Well, Namjoon wants you to grab some more flour from the storage room.” “I’ll be right on it.” You swiftly return back to work before you risk losing your job any more than you have today. But all the while, you damn yourself. This is the worst thing that could’ve happened. You ending up with Kim Seokjin, the scary boss that notoriously fires people in your position, is the last thing you wanted to occur. It’s like you’re living in a nightmare where you’re the only one who’s aware of your own dire circumstances and inevitable doom. // “Would it be that bad if he fell in love with you?” Hyoyeon eyes you lazily from across the table as she stirs her drink with her straw. She’s one of your oldest friends who happen to live in the city and one of the few who knows about your gift. “Yes. It would be that bad!” You’re exasperated. You thought she would be up and arms about it like you are. “How could I ever look at my boss like that?!” “You never know,” Hyoyeon sing-songs much to your chagrin. “Don’t give me that. How would you like it if your boss fell in love with you?” “My boss is a Karen going into her sixties.” “Exactly.” Her lips pop off her straw, wearing a visage of distaste. “This and that aren’t the same, Y/N. I didn’t think Soobin would be with me and when you told me, I was mad. But look at us now! He’s not half bad.” “You’re married.” “Precisely.” She laughs, practically glowing from happiness. “And you know, Seokjin isn’t bad either. He’s like what? Only a few years older than you. Ambitious. Wealthy. Handsome. He did that one photoshoot for that magazine and he was so goddamn handsome. Like holy fuck, I almost got pregnant from just—” “Alright. I get it.” “—and he’s like one of the top chefs of the country. Imagine having that kind of food for the rest of your life.” “That’s not going to happen,” you mumble. If it changed once, it can change again. The more you think about it, the more assured you become. You’ll do everything in your power to change it. // The kitchen has fallen into a lull. Jihyo, the pantry chef, works on tossing salads while the butcher chef, Yoongi, is filleting fresh tuna. Sauté chef Hoseok is preparing his piccata sauce while you help Taehyung, the entremetier, with ingredients for the soup. Everyone has their designated roles here, most of which are fancier than yours. As a kitchen assistant, if you aren’t helping Taehyung then you’re washing dishes. But everyone needed to start from somewhere, so you aren’t going to complain. Working for Kim Seokjin is a privilege, albeit, he’s fearsome and hard to please. You clear your throat. “Has...anyone seen that woman lately?” Taehyung turns his head. “Who?” “That woman came to the restaurant a few times and was with Chef Kim....” A petite and dainty physique. Long, dark hair. Her eyes glimmered in the light and her pinked lips pulled softly when she greeted you all. She was poised, oozed of grace, sophistication, money. And she was the one who you saw above Seokjin’s head since you met him. Hell, you saw him above her head, and while you were surprised that in spite of his scariness, he actually had someone, they strangely suited each other well. They were supposed to be together. Until recently. You wonder what happened. What the change was. Why you’re suddenly his match now. Jihyo turns around, ears perked from the conversation. “Right! I haven’t seen her around lately either! I wondered if something happened.” “You mean Kim Jisoo?” Yoongi lolls his head to the side and when Taehyung gives a curious expression as to how he knows, he says, “Hoseok and I were sent to her flower shop to pick up an order once.” “Were they even dating?” Taehyung asks, looking up from where he’s chopping cucumbers. “They were,” Namjoon pipes up and you look towards him, having expected him to shut down the conversation around the head chef, but he merely smiles. “But I haven’t seen her recently either.” Jihyo hums. “I wonder if something happened.” “Maybe they broke up,” Yoongi offers absentmindedly. “Well, that wouldn’t be surprising.” Taehyung pauses and looks over to you, lifting a brow as if trying to find an ally. “He seems like he can be pretty hard to get along with.” But the opinion isn’t unpopular and there are several snickers throughout the kitchen. “Seokjin’s just serious about his work,” Hoseok says with a smile. “But they were pretty serious.” “Really?” You turn to Namjoon directly. It’s not often that you’d be so straightforward, but you want answers. You want explanations. “Did he ever say anything to you? On what could’ve happened?” He shakes his head and then there’s a loud boom of the backdoor. Your blood runs cold. Everyone’s eyes widen, but there’s no time to react or to take back what he could’ve heard. Seokjin walks in with his eyes narrowed in on you specifically. “If all of you have enough time to talk about my personal life, then you can work twice as hard and twice as fast tonight.” Everyone holds in their sighs. With your downcast head, your eyes search the floor. “I’m sorry, chef.” But the apology falls onto deaf ears. // It’s a busy shift. With your tail caught in between your legs, it’s either a cutting board in front of you with a knife in hand or plates and a rough sponge by the sink. Oil from the fryer nearby splashes onto you, the grease coating bowls staining your apron, the heat sticking your tied back hair to your scalp. Yet you wish you could do more. Not just chop bell peppers, finely mince garlic or prepare starches. Not just rinsing bowls to stack into the dishwasher and wash large pots and plates by hand. While you’ve become accustomed to knives, keeping a rapid and constant beat as you slice whatever is in front of you, you wish you could cook. Not just be an accessory to the kitchen. Or an extra member to assist the chefs. But for now, you count your blessings. Humming to yourself late at night while you finish. “What are you still doing here?” The crystal clear voice has you flinching, startled to death and you turn around to see Kim Seokjin in the flesh. White shirt rolled to his elbows, black trousers, expensive Rolex on his wrist that could pay the rest of your student loans with. You gawk at him. Speechless. Scared. He doesn’t wait for you to find your tongue, dismissing your silence. “Where are the others? They should be cleaning up too. Just because dinner service is over, doesn’t mean they can leave.” He clicks his tongue in annoyance, no longer speaking to you but himself. “I won’t have anyone slacking in my kitchen.” “I-It’s fine, chef.” Your voice is barely a squeak, but you muster the courage, not wanting them to get yelled at tomorrow. You turn around, quickening up your scrubbing until your nails start to hurt. “I’m supposed to be washing the dishes anyway.” “It shouldn’t be taking you this long.” You wonder if he’s scolding you. It goes silent. “Finish up and go change,” Seokjin says shortly and you nod. It takes another ten minutes for the task to be completed and then you’re wiping down the counters before heading to the lockers to change out of your apron and uniform. Usually, you’d come out, turn off all the lights and begin the final trek home. But today, your blood runs cold. Your mouth fills with cotton when you step out. Against your own assumption, the head chef has not in fact left. Instead, Seokjin is leaning against the counter with his coat on, furiously tapping on his phone with his thick brows furrowed like they usually are. You swallow hard and bow your head as you pass him. “Good night, chef.” “Wait.” Immediately, you halt. He pockets his device. “Are you walking?” The absence of an answer is enough of an indication for him. “I’ll drive you. It’s dangerous to walk home at this time of night.” It isn’t a suggestion. It isn’t an offer either. It’s a command. And soon, you discover yourself in his expensive Mercedes. The vehicle is black, sleek and you’re afraid of touching the leather seats more than you have to in case you stain it with poverty and have him sue you for damages. Or fire you. “Turn left,” his fancy navigation system deadpans and it startles you. Yet Seokjin is undeterred and with one hand on the wheel, he turns at the light, allowing the car to roll smoothly over the pavement. The passing lamp posts’ glow also illuminate his features, his plump lips and the slope of his nose. If Hyoyeon was here she would be salivating at the sight, how his chin is lifted, head slightly cocked. You would be too, if you weren’t so afraid. Kim Seokjin exudes confidence and intimidation, rightfully so too. He’s worlds out of your league. And as your eyes stray from his profile to focus on the cloud above his head, your smiling expression still emerges. You don’t understand how someone like you can be with someone like him. “Is there something on my face?” His question leaking with annoyance shakes you out of your trance and you tear your eyes away from him frantically to look out the window. “N-No.” The tense quietness that follows is enough that you want to bang your head against the dashboard and hope you get knocked out to spare you from this awkwardness. Then again, you might just end up with a bruise and his car repair bill which would be even wors— “You won’t be seeing Jisoo anymore,” Seokjin suddenly says and your head swivels to him. “She decided to cheat on me and that was a deal breaker, so I broke it off.” “Oh.” “I didn’t know you were one for gossip, but go ahead and tell the others if you’d like.” “I..I’m sorry.” Your downcast head faces your lap and you swallow hard. “It’s personal and I shouldn’t have intruded or asked. It was wrong and unprofessional of me for bringing it up.” “No.” There’s a moment of silence as he looks straight ahead. “It was wrong of me to act the way I did.” You blink wide-eyed and Seokjin parks at the curb. “My reaction was a bit uncalled for — it’s something I’m still working on.” You stare at him and finally, the man meets your gaze. “You can get out now.” “O-Oh.” You scramble out the car. “T-Thank you.” The moment the door shuts, he drives off. Fate can be changed. It’s rare, but choices influence futures and who someone ends up with can change depending on the actions they take. You just never expected Seokjin’s reason for the change to be so heartbreaking. Even if he stated it factually and his expression never wavered, you could sense it in his voice. The sadness you didn’t know he could possess. // “What made you think I would like him?” Jihyo is exasperated as she wipes down the counter and Taehyung grins as he sweeps the floor. “The guy literally kept on going about rock climbing, bungee jumping and skydiving. Do I look like an adrenaline junkie to you, Kim Taehyung?” “Hey, hey. Yeonjun is nice, okay? I just thought you would be into the rough look.” “Not at all. This is the last time I’m letting you set me up.” Yoongi smirks as he passes by. “I’ll take it that your blind date didn’t go well?” Jihyo glares at him. Hoseok turns around with an amused smile. “It was your fault with trusting Taehyung with this sort of thing. What kind of guy are you into? Maybe I could set you up with someone better.” She sighs wistfully. “I don’t even know anymore. I just want someone reliable and half decent.” In the meanwhile, your eyes flicker up to the cloud above her head. There’s a bright eyed young man there and you smile, unloading the dishwasher as you continue listening to their conversation. “See? It wasn’t my fault!” Taehyung pipes up to defend himself. “How am I supposed to know what kind of person you’d be into if you don’t know yourself?” “Oh, so you know?” “Of course I do!” He scoffs and becomes dreamy as he muses, “I want someone with long hair and dresses fashionably, someone who’s sweet and gentle, like a puppy.” But based on the person above him, they appear rougher around the edges with shorter hair and a frown. But you let Taehyung have it, not commenting a single word. You’ve learnt from experience that it doesn’t work well if you come out of nowhere and try to involve yourself. They continue talking about ideals, even Namjoon that pinches in he’s been seeing someone lately — an old friend who he went to school with that he never thought of romantically until recently. You’re having fun just listening in until the question is directed at you. “Me?” You laugh awkwardly. “I don’t know either. I haven’t really thought about it before.” “Oh, don’t give me that.” Taehyung nudges you. “Everyone has some idea.” But you’ve sincerely never considered it before. You always thought you would live in solitude without another companion and even came to terms with it. But things have changed. “I guess….someone kind and considerate. Thoughtful. I don’t care what they do, except that they have to be a good person.” It might be a generic answer, but as you think about Seokjin, you know you don’t want someone domineering and frightening. Yet from last night, Seokjin didn’t seem so daunting in the car. “Yeah, I can see that.” Jihyo nods. “What about Chef Kim?” you ask, eyes glistening in the light, curious beyond belief. “What do you think his ideal is?” The people around the kitchen hum, speculating over the boss’ preferences. They’re equally intrigued by the question. “Anyone who won’t shit their pants when he’s around,” Taehyung laughs as he finishes sweeping and pours the grime from the dustpan into the trash. As Yoongi wraps a bowl, he mindlessly offers, “He seems to like the serious type,” “What was Jisoo like?” Jihyo asks, tapping her chin with a frown. “Sophisticated,” Hoseok suggests and you look at him, breathing a sigh of relief. Out of all things, you were definitely not sophisticated. “Gentle.” “Sweet,” Namjoon says with confidence, having known the man the most after years of working together, “He likes the hard-working and earnest ones who prove themselves to be more than he expects.” As if summoning the devil himself, Kim Seokjin comes from the back area and walks straight through the kitchen. “Stop slacking,” he states in a monotone and everyone returns to their tasks with a simultaneous ‘yes, chef’. But as he passes by you, he pauses for a moment. “Everyone needs to leave on time today. If there’s anything that isn’t clean, you need to work together so that it is.” “Yes, chef,” sounds throughout the kitchen once more. You know being passive won’t solve anything. You need to actively do something that will repulse him, make it so he’ll vow never to get involved with you. If he makes the decision, fate itself will change and you won’t have to end up together. The only plausible strategy to repulse you have at the moment is to embody the reverse of what Seokjin’s ideals are. The opposite of what appeals to him — sophisticated, sweet and gentle. // It takes you a while to pinpoint what the exact opposite is. But you find it. Loud. Obnoxious. Aggressive. You need to be these things in a way that doesn’t get you fired, but just enough that it alters who his match is. Part of you isn't sure you have it in you to be this way, but it’s worth a shot. You’ll do anything to change fate. “What the hell are you still doing in my kitchen?” Seokjin is standing meters away, half shrouded in the darkness. Your eyes flicker up at him but you resume dicing the carrots into one inch lengths. Only half the blade is lifted off the wooden cutting board and it descends at a rapid rhythm, rather therapeutic to listen to. There’s an urge to cower down, but you channel your aggression, pretending it’s Taehyung and not Kim Seokjin — head chef with two Michelin stars — enough money to assassinate you and cover up the crime. “Everyone went out to have dinner together, but I came back to get a head start on prepping ingredients for tomorrow. I need the practice anyway. Why? Is it a problem?” The man’s brow is lifted at your upfront behaviour. “Get out. I’ll drive you back.” “I’m going to finish this first,” you retort without a breath to waste. Seokjin scoffs and puts down the keys he just grabbed. He sighs exhaustingly and you feel his stare burning into you. It’s hard to ignore it. You even start sweating until he moves towards the fridge, and that’s when you finally steal the chance to peek at him. “Are you going to eat? I can make you something.” “It’s fine.” He grabs two eggs, some shredded cabbage, a handful of spinach and a stick of butter. You don’t question it, solely focusing on your task until there’s sizzling on the pan and he leaves the stove to look over you. “Your technique is poor.” “What?!” Your voice is loud unintentionally, but you’re wholly shocked. If there was one thing you were proud of, it was your knife skills. You’ve spent countless time on refining it and getting it to meet standards. “You could go faster,” he deadpans. “Your grip is too tense and you’re holding the knife too high up. You want to hold it at that balance point, so you have the most control over it and the weight is properly distributed.” Seokjin smoothly grabs a knife off the rack and holds it in front of you. You copy him. “It's easier to push the blade through when you're holding it there.” “Like this?” You begin chopping again and he hums. Against your will, a smile finds your features. It’s the first time he praised you— well...it’s less of a praise and more of a half-hearted noise of approval, but it still counts. Seokjin takes the pan from the heat and switches it off. He grabs a fork from the drawer to start eating and you look over, finishing the job. It doesn’t take long for him to notice your blatant ogling. “Do you have an issue?” You smile at him, stepping forward. “Can I have a bite?” Seokjin scoffs. But you lean over and he steps aside, allowing you to nab a fork from the drawer to take some. It’s not like you’re particularly hungry, but you’re curious as to what he’s made. It’s been a long time since you’ve had food from the head chef himself and asking him for his dinner might just be off-putting enough that he’ll hate you forever. It wouldn’t be impossible considering he’s so picky. You swear, one mistake is all it takes for him to hold a grudge till the day he dies. Yet, what you don’t expect is for the scrambled eggs to melt on your tongue. He’s sautéd the spinach, left the cabbage undercooked to add a crunch, and the eggs are fluffy in your mouth, a vivid gold that adds to the haphazard presentation. “This...this is delicious!” He chews in his cheek. “It’s something I eat when there’s nothing in the fridge.” You’re amazed. The fact that Kim Seokjin can’t recognize his own ingenuity is painful. “You should add this to the menu.” He scoffs. “You think I would add scrambled eggs next to the caviar and truffle? I think you forgot this is a fine dining restaurant.” “It’s fine,” you mumble. “I mean if it tastes good, it tastes good, right, chef?” A tiny smile fixes at his visage, tugging his plump lip upwards. “You sure have a lot more opinions tonight.” “Well, I’ve decided to speak my thoughts more,” you hum, scooping up another spoonful of his meal. Your eyes flicker up as you chew with your mouth wide open. “Why? Is it unattractive?” “It’s interesting,” he says with a smile that’s more visible until he barks, “Hurry up eating so I can drive you home.” You scoff at him as he walks away and you finish his dinner off. // Everyone’s on edge. “It’s more akin to pretentious artwork without any real flavour than real food,” Hoseok reads from his phone to the entire kitchen. “Head chef, Kim Seokjin, is not far from what his cooking lacks too. A pretentious and egotistical nature, it’s no wonder his personal life is in shambles.” Your fist tightens. Not only did the published article criticize his dishes, claiming it lost its touch and that he’s lost his roots, but they attacked his personality. His personal life. Going into detail of how his relationship was broken off unexpectedly. “Oh shit,” Taehyung exhales. “Was that really posted online for everyone to see?” Jihyo asks in a pitched voice, equally horrified and panicked. Hoseok nods and before anyone can say anything, the backdoor is heard. Without prompting, everyone swiftly moves to their station, not uttering a single peep. Seokjin comes in, his expression unchanged and he deadpans the usual greeting as he moves past the kitchen. Your face above his head hasn’t changed. But you know it’s not the time to dwell on it. For the rest of the shift, Taehyung’s on his best behaviour and neither Jihyo nor Yoongi make snarky comments. It’s come at a cost — the morale is lower than usual. The atmosphere is tense and even Namjoon’s earnest encouragement can’t help. Out of the corner of your eye, you can’t help but watch Seokjin. He doesn’t make mention to the article, yet by the deep furrow of his brow, you can tell he’s in a grumpy mood. It’s understandable. But you wonder why it seems like he’s less angry and more hurt. If it were you, you’d be furious. The personal details of your life outed publicly and not only were your skills scrutinized, but your personality too. Seokjin was cheated on and now chastised. Even if he’s resilient, it’s too much for anyone to take. It doesn’t look like he has friends to rely on either. “Are you coming, Y/N?” Jihyo asks, turning around as you linger behind her. The restaurant’s lights are turned off, the kitchen long cleaned and your clothes changed into a fresh pair that doesn’t reek of dish soap and fish. But you feel unsettled. Like there’s still one more thing you haven’t finished doing. “No, it’s alright. I forgot something. You can go right ahead.” She nods, joining the others and you walk to the back, pushing the doors of the kitchen open. There’s still a light on and you find Seokjin sitting on a stool by a counter. He looks up at you, visage in a neutral state. Neither a frown nor a smile. “What are you still doing here?” Your hand tightens on your bag strap and you approach him. “Are you okay?” Seokjin smiles at you. For the first time, it isn’t mocking — it’s gentle and tinged with sadness. The corner of his plump lips quirk ever so subtly and his arm extends, hand plopping on top of your head before it slides off. “I’m fine. It’s still early enough that I don’t need to drive you. You should go home before the sun completely sets.” Wordlessly, you begin to walk away. But then a sharp inhale is stolen through your parted lips. Before you can second guess yourself, you grab Kim Seokjin. Your hand wraps around his wrist and he glares at you. “We should go out for a drink.” You don’t waver even with the incredulous look on his face. “What’s wrong? Never had a drink with an employee before? It looks like you need one and I’ll only offer once. I’m pretty busy myself, you know.” It’s aggressive, obnoxious, a bit loud. It’s all the things you suppose he dislikes in a person, yet somehow the two of you have never been closer. You end up in some hole in the wall, drinking shots of soju that burn its way down your throat. Seokjin sits across from you with an amused smile on his face that’s so irritating you want to slap it off, and you damn yourself for letting it slip your mind that you’re a lightweight. “Aren’t you hurt, Kim?” The words slightly slur on your tongue. “‘s ridiculous! To criticize your food is one thing, but to criticize your personality and talk about your personal life ‘s just crossing the line!” His lips pull, his eyes flicker down to the empty bottle beside you. “Yeah. It is.” “Then why aren’t you mad?!” Your fist pounds the wooden table. “Getting cheated on is sad enough! Why do they gotta rub it in, huh?” His brow lifts, but you continue, “should sue them!” Seokjin exhales on a sip. “It’s part of the business.” “No, ’s not!” “It was my ex who told them anyway. She’s upset that I kicked her out of the apartment.” “Then that’s more reason to be mad!” You press your face into your hands, angry at how he’s not angry. “How can you be so nice? How can you be so nice and no one knows it?!” Seokjin smiles to himself. “This freaking sucks,” you moan. He sighs at your drunken state and orders water for you. The old lady tottles by with a big smile and you get a chance to see the cloud of fog and the face above her head. “I brought the bean sprouts back,” her husband calls from the entrance at the same time with a grocery bag. “I’ll be right there.” She places the glass down in front of you. “Here you go.” Jealousy colours you pink inside. “You met your soulmate,” you exhale at her quietly. The woman’s eyes twinkle. “That old man? He gives me more headaches than anything. I’d rather this handsome man be my soulmate,” she quips, casting a glance at an embarrassed Seokjin who thanks her for her compliment. Her husband calls her again and she hurries back. Seokjin leans forward with a skeptical look. “Are you okay?” “I’m envious,” you sigh wistfully, looking on at the married couple at the back with your chin rested in your palm. After a moment, you shift towards the man across from you. Seokjin really is handsome. “I come from a long line of matchmakers, you know, and I have this ability.” He plays along. “What ability?” “I see the faces of who people are gonna end up with.” You drink the water, cooling your throat, but above the rim of the glass, you recognize his scoff and amusement. The glass slams down on the table in your protest. “It’s true! It’s been like that since I was a baby!” “Okay, okay. I believe you.” He clearly doesn’t believe you. Irritated, you straighten your spine. “A long, long time ago back in High School, I really, really, really liked this guy.” Seokjin’s brows raise, not sure where you’re going with this. “Alright…?” He nudges the glass of water back to you. “I knew he wasn’t gonna end up with me, but he asked me out. And like a total idiot, I-I went out with him anyway. Then guess what happened?” He has no idea. A thick lump forms in your throat and makes it hard to speak. “He met the girl he‘s supposed to end up with, so I broke it off. They got married a year after high school. So I was right. I was...right.” Tears flood your vision, clouding the dark-haired man in front of you. You forgo the water for the shot Seokjin poured himself and you down it. You were right. But it hurt. Seokjin’s voice is soft, though it does little to console you. “So….because of your ‘ability’, you haven’t gone out with anyone else?” You nod. “I’d be setting myself up for a failure anyway.” Your head lifts and your tired gaze connects with his. “My family wanted me to be a matchmaker like them. But I love, love, love cooking and I wanna be a chef. Like you.” The corner of his mouth quirks. You’re honest — in a way he wouldn’t have expected from sober you. But he doesn’t mind it whatsoever. “I know you don’t believe me. But look.” You reach over, tapping him relentlessly on the shoulder and your hand barely comes to cover your mouth as if you’re children exchanging secrets across the table. “See those two women over there? They’re gonna end up together.” Your whispers are all too loud and Seokjin glares, not sure if you’re hysterical or delusional. Or both. You turn to the window and he follows your line of sight. At the same time, a couple holding hands passes by and you shake your head. “They don’t end up together.” “How do you know?” “I already said! I see it. Above their heads.” Then you turn your head, looking at him. Seokjin’s startled, having not realized that you’ve leaned in so close, that your faces are mere inches away. But before he can shift back, your lip pulls and you murmur, “We’re supposed to end up together.” His brow raises. “It was gonna be someone else. Then one day, you came into work and poof! It was my face! Just like that. I almost got a heart attack, you know!” Giggles start to spill out of you. “It was a huge shock cause I always thought I was gonna be alone since I can’t see my own. Well, sometimes fate changes, so it might change again! Don’t worry!” He exhales, squeezing out the air from his lungs. He stands, grabbing his coat and then tugging your arm up. “You’ve had too much to drink. C’mon. Let’s go.” “Aye, aye, captain— I mean chef!” His smile is small, but all too evident. He should smile more, even if it ruins the cold and aloof exterior he’s got going on. It’s cute and makes him look younger. So you express the idea and he chops your head lightly with his hand and gives you a rather gentle ‘shut up’ that has you grinning more. // The sunlight burns your vision and there’s a pounding headache at your temples. There’s an overwhelming urge to pull the covers over your head, but as the slits of your eyes open and you realize there’s a strange floral scent to the sheets, you bolt upwards. It hurts all the senses in your body, but your eyes register the neat recipe books lined on the shelf, trophies and certificates on the walls, a poster of the planets, a telescope and Kim Seokjin’s family picture by his nightstand. And then you scream. “Christ. Relax!” He appears at the doorway, eyeing you with his arms crossed. “You were drunk, so I took you home.” Absentmindedly, you tug the covers up to your chest in spite of still wearing the same clothes from last night. Your dry voice croaks out. “We...we didn’t do anything scandalous did—” “No!” He shuts the thought down before it runs wild in your head and Seokjin pinches the bridge of his nose. “I didn’t do anything to you, jesus christ, woman! Just get up. There’s a spare toothbrush in the bathroom. I’ll make you some breakfast and a hangover drink.” You follow his instructions, cleaning yourself up to the best of your abilities with the limited supplies, but it’s surreal to be in Seokjin’s penthouse. It’s clean and organized, like you expected, though a lot more cozy and warm. You didn’t know he traveled so frequently and that he had an interest in astronomy — if there’s anything the telescope and posters tells you. “Stop snooping,” he calls out from the kitchen, looking up to where you’re investigating his movie collection. You come over with a half-hearted apology and he sets down a bowl of oatmeal and a mysterious concoction in a tall glass. Both taste heavenly, enough to work up your appetite ten folds. But then he says, “Eat fast. It’s a special day today.” You’re not sure what he means by it, but you simply nod and nurse your headache. You remember what you told him last night, how you revealed all your secrets in one long tangent and you cringe at yourself. Seokjin probably thinks you’re a complete nut. But strangely enough, when you look at the cloud above his head, your face hasn’t changed. “Why are you staring?” “I’m not,” you mutter and tear your eyes away, unsuspecting to his smile. But in spite of how close and upfront you might’ve gotten with Seokjin, he still tells you to walk to work yourself — that it’s close enough and too much of a hassle if he drives you. So you cuss him out as you’re striding down the block as he zooms past you in his expensive vehicle. You hope he notices your glare from across the kitchen, but if he does, he doesn’t comment. “Today, we have some special guests for dinner service. A few of my friends will be coming and one of them will be proposing, so let’s make sure we give them a good dinner and memory.” “Yes, chef.” The news is exciting and even puts a buzz in the kitchen. “Finally, we’re doing something cool,” Taehyung says to you with a swollen smile. “I love a good proposal story.” “Always the one watching the proposal, never the one getting proposed to,” Yoongi quips as he brushes past and Hoseok snickers. “Hey, I’m working on it!” “I’m surprised Seokjin actually has friends though,” Jihyo comments and right when Yoongi turns to add something, they both pale as Seokjin strides past. He glares at them and is even more frightening in his silence. They immediately apologize and he hums, moving out the kitchen. You, Hoseok, and Namjoon laugh. Evening eventually comes and Seokjin temporarily calls a halt to the kitchen in favour of his old friends meeting his staff. It’s unusual to see him in such a good mood, smiling and being sociable. It’s strange in general to see this side of him, but it’s not unwelcome whatsoever. There’s seven of them, a mix of females and males, and you follow Hoseok’s lead in greeting and shaking their hands. Quickly, you recognize who's going to be proposing to who tonight. It’s not hard to miss considering the man is visibly nervous and the close female by his side keeps glancing at him in worry. “Are you alright, Jimin?” “Huh? Yeah.” The blonde with full cheeks and soft features smiles timidly, scratching the back of his neck. He’s dressed too nicely for this to merely be a dinner. “I’m fine. Just not feeling well.” “Are you sure you don’t want to stop by the clinic?” The short-haired female asks, concern evident in the faint knot between her brows. “There’s one down the street. I can go with you.” “I’ll keep an eye on him, Yuri,” the man who introduced himself as Jungkook reassures her, “If anything I’ll take him.” “Jimin’s just excited to try out the food.” Seokjin grins, drawing attention away from his friend. “Rest assured, everyone will feel better after eating and if you get sick tonight, it’s not food poisoning, alright?” There’s laughter in the group and another says, “You’ve been bragging about your restaurant for so long, I thought you were never going to invite us to eat here.” “Well, we’re usually booked full house, but it’s a slower season so I thought why not.” Yet the conversations drown away from your ears as your eyes unintentionally flicker upwards. You don’t mean to — it’s still a habit you’re trying to break. But you feel blood drain from your face as you discern the image that emerges from the fog above Jimin’s head and above Yuri’s. “Y/N?” Taehyung waves his hand in front of your eyes and you snap out of your trance. “Why are you staring into space? We’re going back.” “O-Oh. Sorry. I was thinking about something.” You return to the kitchen, forcing yourself to focus and getting back to your task. It’s none of your business. You know better than to involve yourself and it’s not like anyone would believe you in the first place. People’s lives have nothing to do with you. You have to turn a blind eye. It’s none of your business, it’s none of your business— But as you leave to the back area to grab ingredients, you catch the man leaving the bathroom. “Oh, you’re one of Seokjin’s chefs right?” Jimin stops and smiles at you, inhibiting your escape. You shake your head. “I-I’m only a kitchen assistant.” “But you’re still part of his staff.” His eyes are rounded and bright. “Is he mean at all? We’ve been trying to squeeze it out of him, but he won’t give us any details. I heard a bit of shouting, so I was curious.” “Oh, he’s always shouting.” The corner of your mouth quirks and Jimin grins. “He’s a bit mean, but Chef Kim’s just serious about his work and we respect him for it.” “It seems like you understand him better than I do. Anyway, the soup was amazing. I already told Jin, but I thought I should let you know since you’re the one who brought it out to us.” “Thank you.” Your eyes travel above his head and then you notice the way he’s fiddling with a box inside his pants pocket. You swallow hard. “Are you proposing tonight?” Jimin’s head whips up. “How’d you know?” “Chef Kim let all of us know, so we can make sure it’s a memorable dinner service.” His expression softens and he bobs his head. Jimin takes out the ring box and studies it carefully. “I am. I hope it wasn’t too obvious. I know she’ll say yes, but I’m still nervous. She’s the love of my life and these things only happen once,.” “Well….” You give an awkward chuckle. “Sometimes it happens more than once for people.” “Not for us,” Jimin declares in such self-assurance that it’s uncomfortable. His smile filled with affection doesn’t help either. “She’s the one. I don’t think I’ll love anyone more than her.” Your pupils flicker up to the cloud above his head that says otherwise. It gnaws at you, mocking you, and you’re uncertain if you can sleep tonight if you don’t say at least something. So you take the leap. “Are….you...sure?” “What?” “Never mind.” You turn around, having regretted it the moment it spilled. “Please enjoy dinner!” “Wait!” The man unexpectedly grabs you out of sheer instinct, halting you in your spot. He searches your face while his own crumples into a frown. “Did Yuri say something to you?” “No!” you frantically spit before taking a deep breath to calm down. “I’m just….I just….” The philosophy you’ve forced yourself to take collapses at his earnest visage. You were never good at being unattached. “D-Do you think this is a good idea? Are you absolutely sure about this?” “What’s going on here?” There’s a lower voice, a husky timbre. Seokjin stands at the end of the dark corridor and all traces of his outgoing personality are gone. It’s replaced with the serious demeanour you’re used to. He beckons you. “Can I speak to you for a moment, Y/N?” Jimin returns back to the table, even more unnerved than before while you’re pulled outside. You feel small with your back against the brick and Seokjin looming over you. “What the hell are you doing?” You flinch from his tone. You’ve never seen him so angry. He isn’t shouting, screaming or imposing. But the irritation seethes out of him, simmering underneath his skin. You swallow hard, downcast eyes searching the gravel. You think about how dark it’s getting with the sun setting over the horizon. “I…” “Are you seriously trying to talk him out of it?! What gives you the right—” You snap. There’s no reason he should be upset, no reason you should be treated this way. So with your teeth gritted, you give him the truth that’s hard to hear. The truth that you alone must bear. “They’re not going to end up together!” “What?” Seokjin wears the same incredulous look from last night. It’s futile. Still, your mouth runs off into mumbles, “I can see it above their faces. That woman, Yuri, she’s…..paired with that other man. Jungkook.” You give up. Waving the white flag. In the silence that follows, you expect Seokjin to fire you, or call the nearest hospital. Either you’re a nut or unsuitable to work in his kitchen. Maybe both. What you don’t anticipate is his startled expression, horrified as if you just told him there’s a ghost behind him. “How….how’d you know that?” The syllables unusually stutter out of him. It’s not like Seokjin to be inarticulate. “Jungkook hasn’t told anyone he loves her except for me.” It’s your turn to be surprised. The quietness lingers. Then, he sighs. “Don’t get involved,” he scolds, gentler than before. At the same moment, there are cheers from inside that leak out — clapping and hollering — you know Jimin’s proposed. Seokjin turns away, returning to the restaurant floor and you resume your position in the kitchen. Jihyo asks if there’s anything wrong, but you brush her off. For the rest of the night, you concentrate on your job and Seokjin’s friends bid farewell after their stomachs are full from dessert and there’s a diamond on Yuri’s finger. “Job well done everyone.” Seokjin has a satisfied look when he returns and Namjoon shares a smile with everyone. Clean up finishes soon after, but before you can leave, he calls you specifically. “Y/N, come here.” Taehyung looks at you with widened eyes, but you don’t utter a word, staying behind. The kitchen filters out and even Yoongi sends a sympathetic look your way before departing. It’s never a good thing to be called back. You brace yourself. If Seokjin didn’t make a scene firing you earlier than certainly will now. There’s no reason not to — you tried to stop an engagement between his close friends and he probably thinks you’re psychotic. You stand there in silence for a good minute as he fills out some paperwork. It feels like you’re in the principal’s office. Then, the corner of his mouth moves as he casts a glance at you. “Sometimes you borrow the kitchen to practice, right? You can practice tonight.” Confusion renders you immobile, filling your mouth with cotton, but you manage a slight nod. You start to chop vegetables into bowls, dicing and mincing ingredients that will be needed for tomorrow. All the while, Seokjin sits meters away from you with a bunch of papers. Either doing his taxes or filing a report to admit you into the hospital. You’re not sure which one it is. But halfway through, he pipes up again. “You should make something for the two of us to eat.” “Yes, chef.” On any other night, you would be bursting with excitement, knowing it was a chance to impress him. But now you wonder if this will be your last chance to cook. Within minutes, you have a pot on the stove, boiling for ten minutes. “Sit down,” he commands, motioning to the other stool and you oblige. Seokjin makes drinks in the meanwhile, asking what you want. When you mumble anything’s fine, he pulls out a few bottles from the back cabinet and starts mixing. You didn’t know he can bartend, but it’s almost expected that Kim Seokjin can do anything at this point. The atmosphere is terribly awkward, so you exhale from your nose and speak up, “I’m sorry. I...I know I stepped out of line. I didn’t mean for it to come out the way it did. I’m really so—” “I believe you,” Seokjin interjects, gaze meeting yours across the counter. Your breath hitches. “I didn’t believe you at first. About the whole ability thing. But when you told me that Jimin and Yuri won’t make it, I knew there was no other possible way.” He pours the drink into two glasses. “Jungkook and Yuri grew up together. He told me a long time ago he was in love with her and I was sworn to secrecy. No one else knows. Not his brother, his mom, or Jimin.” He passes it to you and sighs, taking a sip. “But there’s nothing I can do to stop Jimin or to help Jungkook. It’s something they have to figure out on their own.” You nod, gripping the stem of the glass. “I know.” There’s a pregnant pause. You lift your eyes and it connects with Seokjin’s. Instantly, you feel yourself breaking into a sweat at how intense he looks at you. “Is it true then?” he asks in the quaintness of the kitchen, his voice thick and low. “Are we going to end up together?” “It might change!” The words come out all too frantically in fear he’ll freak out like you did. You know it’s a lot to take in. “Things change all the time. You were supposed to end up with Jisoo, but then, but then things happened so….nothing’s ever certain. It all depends on our actions and choices. I know you don’t like people like me. I don’t have anything to offer you anyway—” “You need to have more confidence in yourself.” Your voice dies on your tongue. Seokjin’s staring at you again in a way that makes your palms clammy, so intense that you wonder if he’s scrutinizing your pores. You swallow hard, tearing your own gawking away until you hear sizzling. The two of you turn to where the pot is almost over boiling and you run over, grabbing it off the stove. “I-It’s done.” He grabs bowls as you set it down and uncover the lid. “What do we have here?” You’re embarrassed. It’s nothing like his fine dining dishes, or even his comfort food that somehow tastes like heaven. “It’s just carrot and potato curry stew. It’s actually something my family cooks…..so it’s nothing fancy.” Seokjin’s spoon dips into the liquid and it’s your turn to watch intently. He smells it, sips and his expression is kept blank. You stand. “I can throw it out if you want—!” “Why are you so jumpy today?” The corner of his plump lips curls. “And why would I want to throw out something so delicious?” Your heart stutters in your chest and tears fill your vision. He might not fire you after all and on top of that, both your inborn ability and cooking skills have been validated. You feel overwhelmed. Especially when he finishes his first bowl and goes for seconds. “This is what I’ve been missing in my cooking,” Seokjin murmurs with a tiny smile. “When they said I was missing my roots, I think I know what they mean now. Thank you, Y/N.” You’re not sure who’s filled with more gratitude. He smiles and you nod at him earnestly, speechless on what to say. At the end of the night, Seokjin drives you home in his black Mercedes. A kind of lull fills that car and it isn’t frightening like it usually would be. Rather, it’s comfortable. A little too short lasting. He parks the car at the curb in front of your apartment and you get out. “Thank you.” Yet after you shut the door, he rolls down the window and stops you. “Y/N.” You look at him and he smiles again. A phenomenon that used to be so rare that seems to happen frequently now. “I hope it doesn’t change.” Kim Seokjin gazes at you, eyes connected across the distance that feels like it’s closing. He never wavers and a lump forms into your throat. “Are we going to end up together?” — Your own words echo in the recesses of your mind— “It might change! Things change all the time.” But here he is. Going against all your efforts of trying to change fate itself. “I hope it doesn’t change. And I hope you don’t want it to change either.” Seokjin drives off, leaving you absolutely stunned. You wonder if he knows what he’s saying. But as you watch his car fade into the distance, somehow you’re not appalled or scared at the idea of being with him anymore.

The kitchen is an organized pandemonium. A place where everyone knows exactly what they’re supposed to do and moves in fluid motions by one another, like a busy crosswalk in the downtown area. It’s a kind of silent teamwork and while you’re merely helping Taehyung chop vegetables or washing the accumulated dishes, you know your role is still an important one. You just wish you could a little more. The moment the back door creaking can be heard, everything comes to a halt. Seokjin rounds the corner as everyone simultaneously greets him. “Good afternoon, chef.” “Afternoon.” There’s a smile on his features, one that surprises a few and makes the others unsettled. “There’s going to be a special menu item today, so I want that prepared as soon as possible.” He hands the new recipe to Namjoon who frowns upon the sprawled notes. “Carrot...and potato soup with chickpea crumble?” “If you need details, ask Y/N,” Seokjin says with a tiny smile. “It’s her recipe.” At once, everyone turns to you with shocked expressions. It’s one thing for Seokjin to suddenly introduce something new, but to introduce yours, it’s both unprecedented and a privilege. You stare at him and his smile widens slightly. “I hope you don’t mind.” “N-Not at all.” The daily tasks commence, but not without a pat on the back from Yoongi, a congratulations from Jihyo and a smile sent your way by Taehyung. Namjoon and Hoseok ask for your help and it’s the first time you’re not just mincing garlic in the corner or washing a stack of dishes. Pride bursts through you and you look across the kitchen to Kim Seokjin. He scoffs at how big your smile is, feigns a glare and tells you to get back to work. The rest of the dinner service goes smoothly. Your appetizer gets compliments from several and you couldn’t be any happier, even when everyone’s left and you’re still scrubbing dishes. There’s a click of a tongue beside you. Seokjin stands with his arms crossed. “You always find ways to make me pay you overtime. Move over.” He rolls up his sleeves and helps you wash the last pots and pans. “Thank you for today. It was a good surprise.” He hums and the pair of you finish up before he tells you to unload the dishwasher tomorrow. “Go change and grab your coat. It’s getting late.” “Are you going to drive me home?” “No. We’re going to scope out some competition.” “Competition?” “We’re going to eat at a restaurant called Dog World,” Seokjin brushes off quickly, but when you continue to blink at him, he sighs and waves you off. “Don’t ask too many questions, alright? This is my excuse for asking you out on a date.” If you weren’t caught off guard before, you’re wholly stunned speechless now. A deer in headlights. And it makes the older bastard grin widely. “Don’t worry.” His voice knocks down into a gentler tone. “You can reject me if you want. I don’t want you to be pressured because I’m your boss, even though I don’t think that matters to you. But you should also know I’m not doing this because of what you see.” He gestures above his head, unknowingly batting the cloud of fog you can perceive. “I’m doing this because I want to.” It sinks into you and your head tilts to your shoulder. “You….want to go out on a date with me?” The corner of Seokjin’s lip pulls and he diverts his vision elsewhere. You notice how his ears are turning red. “Ever since you sat down with me and told me that getting cheated on was sad enough and that they shouldn’t rub it in.” There’s silence. The first stretch of it is because you genuinely don’t know what to say to him. But the second stretch that follows is when you realize just how nervous he is and there’s a ruthless urge to keep him on the edge. You make him simmer in fear, a similar kind to the countless ones he’s given you during stressful shifts in the kitchen. There’s something powerful yet endearing about how Kim Seokjin anticipates your answer. You never thought he could be this way. He just keeps surprising you. When you can’t contain it anymore, you burst out laughing. “I’ll accept on the condition that if you take my recipe permanently, you’ll need to pay me royalties appropriately. Don’t think I won’t take you out to court, Kim.” Seokjin grins and for the first time, certainty sews into you. You have a feeling fate isn’t going to change and you hope it doesn’t either.

[Epilogue] The kitchen is your home. You’re sure Jin would adamantly argue that the house was perfectly fine to be considered your home, but there’s still a charm to the busy kitchen that has drawn you in since childhood. Even if the heat swelters in the still air and is stifling, even when grease and oil splatter and stains your clothes, the effort in cooking makes the food that comes from it even more delicious. “What is this?” All heads turn at your voice and you motion to the plate about to be brought out. “The rice is on the wrong side of the plate! Re-do this, and watch the plating people! I know it’s easy to forget but it’s important to be consistent with the presentation!” “Yes, chef!” It’s strenuous and difficult to be here. It took years to get to where you are, but you wouldn’t trade it in for anything. The reward is worth it. You love your job — maybe even more than Jin, and while you’re sure he wouldn’t be surprised, he’d still playfully whine about being casted aside. The rest of the night goes off without a hitch and once the kitchen is all clean, you switch off the lights and lock the doors. And like magic, the person you’ve been thinking about all day is leaning against the car parked on the curb, arms crossed as he stares out into the starry sky. “About time. I’ve been waiting for the past twenty minutes.” You scoff with a smile and discern the cold cloud emitting from his lips each time he exhales. This is the exact opposite of what you intended to happen. Sometimes you wonder if it was a self-fulfilling prophecy — by knowing he was going to be with you and trying to avoid it, you inadvertently made him closer to you. But whatever the case may be, you’re glad for the outcome. You close the distance and slap your hands against his frozen cheeks, trying to warm them up. A smile tugs on your features. “Sorry. You’re cold, aren’t you? You should’ve just waited in the car.” “But I wanted to see you right away,” he mutters, putting his hands on top of yours to keep you there, then he adds, “and it gives me reason to do this.” Seokjin grins and leans in to press a soft kiss against your lips, one that you smile into. If any of his old kitchen staff or even the current group saw him now, they’d faint with how grossly affectionate he was being. Then again, they might just be used to it considering Jin hasn’t ever paid mind to other people. He’s never been one to opt out of public displays of affection either. “You know I’ve been thinking lately.” “About?” “How hard I tried to get rid of you and how I couldn’t. You’re kind of like a pest.” Your husband of two years straightens his spine, wholly offended. “Pest?” Laughter bubbles out of your chest and you press another chaste kiss to his lips before you’re pushing him aside to get into the car. Seokjin chuckles, rounding the vehicle to get into the driver’s seat. “Are you hungry?” “Not really.” “Namjoon and Taehyung want us to go to the opening of their restaurant.” “Their opening event lasts for three days right? We can always go tomorrow.” You turn to him as he pulls off, driving down the street. “I’m kind of craving your comfort food tonight.” Jin grins, easily obliging while your eyes flicker up to the cloud of fog above his head. You see yourself smiling as widely as you are now, and you’re thankful you have your ability.

#bts fanfic #bts scenario #seokjin fanfic #jin fanfic #jin fluff #jin scenario #jin reader insert #seokjin fluff #seokjin scenario #Jin as a scary chef :( who's just hardcore about his passion #yo this got Jungle Park Hoseok vibes lol ngl #actually it was inspired by the k-drama Oh My Ghost #I never finished watching it really but I based off the way their kitchen worked with this fic #so if it doesn't seem like a traditional kitchen that's why #I hope you guys enjoy this oneshot!#It's a more classic Jimlingss fluff #with a decent storyline

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emma-nation · 3 years

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The Devil In I - Bela x OC (Resident Evil Village AU)

“Step inside, see the Devil in I”

Summary: Aleena Novak is a 19 years old orphan who desired more than living in a village in the middle of nowhere. A talented artist with a big future ahead, she gets the scholarship of her dreams in United States. But everything changes when her twin brother, Auryk, steals an important artifact from Castle Dimitrescu.

In this adventure, Aleena will find way more than she expected.

“You’ll realize I’m not your Devil anymore”

Pairing: Bela Dimitrescu x OC

Genre: Between T and M (Trigger warning for violence, blood, abuse and eventual smut)

Tag List: @nydeiri

Notes: This is my first RES fic, so I'm sorry if I mess it up a bit. English is also not my main language, so a mistake or two may happen. I hope you enjoy it :)

Trigger Warning: Language, abuse, blood and violence.

Eastern Europe - July, 2009

"If he could learn to love another and earn her love in return by the time the last petal fell, then the spell would be broken. If not, he would be doomed to remain a beast for all time. As the years passed he fell into despair and lost all hope. For who could ever learn to love a beast?"

Mother closed the book, placing it on the bedside table between Auryk's bed and mine. Then, she lowered herself and kissed my forehead like she did every night. Her long, blonde hair tickled my face and left a trace of her sweet lavender fragrance in the air. I giggled.

"Good night, sweetheart," she spoke.

"Good night, momma."

"Cherish your last night as a six years old. Tomorrow you will become a..."

"Princess?!"

"A seven years old girl. The prettiest girl in the village."

"Pffft," Auryk let out a displeased grunt from his bed, covering his head with the pillow to avoid listening another word from the conversation.

"And you too," mother sat by his side on the bed and repeated her nightly ritual of kissing his forehead to wish him a good night too. "You'll become the most handsome and brave warrior in this village. Do you understand?"

"I hope so. Good night, mom."

"Good night, buddy."

Mother left the room, leaving us both in the dark. However, we couldn't sleep. Not because we were thrilled about our incoming birthday party as any regular child, but because we knew our lives were about to change. Seven years old was the age every child from our village was introduced to the truth and started being trained to fight the evil that haunted our lands. Auryk and I spent minutes, or maybe hours, in silence, staring at the ceiling.

"Leena?" He was the first one to speak. "Do you believe a spell can broken? I mean, like a curse?"

"I don't know, Ryk," I answered, feeling my thoughts starting to drift away. "Maybe we're doomed after all. Or... we could learn how to love the beasts."

The birthday parties always happened during the daytime, rules of the village. We could no longer be outside after 6 PM. Mother got help from the other women to prepare the treats and organize the decorations. Auryk was disguised as a pirate and I... I was Belle, from the Beauty and the Beast.

"So, what do you think you will be getting this year?" My best friend Elena asked while we were playing with our dolls. She was about two years older than us.

"I don't know," I shrugged. Being a merchant, my father always returned home with the most unusual gifts: a magical music box, a voodoo doll that had a life on its own or a fragrance that chased away the monsters - and everybody else too. "A new book. I'm hoping for a new book."

It was only by the end of the party Adrian Novak made his entrance. That was the mystery about him. Nobody knew when he would show up, or if he would show up at all. He still had that same annoying smirk on his face. The corner of his mouth holding a cigarette. The months away made his beard grow longer, as well as his dark hair. In the sunlight, the scar above his eye was even more visible.

"Auryk," he shouted, "come here, son. I've got something for ya."

My twin brother, who had been climbing trees with his friends stop frozen in spot for a second. I couldn't tell if he hated or feared that man. Maybe both. He slowly followed father's command, approaching him cautiously.

"Hi, dad."

"Happy birthday, son," father ruffled his dark straight hair with his strong and calloused hand. "It's about time you grow up."

He handed my brother a large package. From our experience, we knew exactly what it was, a shotgun.

"T-Thank you, dad."

"I'll be spending some time at home. Tomorrow we'll start practicing."

Auryk consented. He shot me a quick glance. From our twin bond I could tell my brother was far from happy. When he blew his candles that afternoon, he didn't wish for a weapon. We wished to be a normal child.

"What did you get, Leena?" He asked once we were locked in the safety of our bedroom.

"Pencils and a drawing book. Dad thinks I'm talented."

Not really. Adrian Novak would never allow his daughter to hold a shotgun. That was, according to him, 'a man thing'.

"Good, at least one of us got what they wanted. Happy birthday, sister."

"Happy birthday, brother."

4 Years Later - October, 2013

It wasn't easy to be the weakest of the twins. Although he was born first, Auryk was the tinniest. The one who was always getting sick or getting injured. The one who couldn't hit a single fucking target when he had the alcoholic breath of his father on his neck.

He aimed for a crow, sitting still on a fence. How hard could it be? Even the eldest man from the village could do any better than that.

BANG! He shot again. And missed.

"Again?!" Adrian angered, shoving him hard on the shoulder. "What the hell is your problem, kid?"

"I don't know, okay? This gun... it's heavy!"

"Heavy? And why do you think we've been exercising for all these years, huh?! We do not live in Disneyland, Auryk. We need to fight monsters, abominations. Someday I won't be home and you need to be prepared to protect our people. Do you understand?"

Tears started forming in the corners of the boy's blue eyes. He couldn't cry. Not in front of him. Crying was a sign of weakness and he couldn't be weak. Not right now. Auryk started to think about all the things he could be doing. He thought about the ocean, as he had seen on TV and books. He could feel the warmness of the sun on his skin. The sand between his toes. His mom and sister were also there, of course - they'd carry them with him everywhere. And he would study Math and Physics. There would be no guns, no monsters, no blood, only numbers, only formulas, only theories. He smiled. He no longer felt like crying.

"I'm sorry, dad," kindness was always the answer, his mother said. "But this isn't for me, you know? I don't like it. I... Remember that boarding school my teacher mentioned? I thought maybe I..."

His words were interrupted by a hard slap on his face. Auryk could taste a small amount of blood coming out from his lower lip.

"So that's what you want? To become one of those little fancy fags? Maybe you're not my son after all."

Adrian started walking away, leaving his son alone, sitting on the floor.

"I AM!" Auryk yelled, enraged. "I am your son."

"Then prove it."

"You shouldn't take so hard on him," Savannah poured her husband a cup of tea. "He's just a boy."

"He's eleven years old, for god's sake," the husband punched the table strong enough to make it shake. "He needs to man up a bit. You should stop spoiling him."

As I left my bedroom I found my brother sitting on the stairs. He didn't have to be so close to listen to the conversation between our parents, father's voice was loud enough to echo through every wall of our small and cozy home.

I sat down by his side, wrapping an arm around his shoulders.

"Maybe you should do it, Leena. You'd do it better, I know."

"I'm not so sure. Remember when I tried to shoot a scarecrow and almost shot that old witch?"

"Come on, you aimed on purpose! I know."

Auryk finally let out a small laugh at the memory.

"You're good at everything, Leena," he spoke fondly. "You're an extrovert, you're everybody's friend, you can cook, you can draw and paint... you're a true artist. I'm a mistake."

"You're not a mistake, Ryk," I pulled my brother closer, resting my cheek against the side of his face. "We're only at the wrong place and you know it."

Going back to our bedroom, we pulled from the drawers the postcards our grandma Louise sent us from San Diego. Mom had been born in California and lived there her entire life, until she met father during one of his trips. God knows what made her fall in love with that man. Adventure? Danger? I expected better from myself when I turned eighteen. Otherwise, I'd never want to fall in love. Love could be my ruin, just like my mom's.

"Leena..." Auryk held the postcard tightly, "do you think... if he died... do you think mom would take us to nana's home?"

"I don't know, Ryk," I didn't want to think of my father's possible death. But I also dreamed of a better life. "Maybe."

"What the hell?" Father's voice in the kitchen made me jump in fear. I knew that tone. I grew up used to that. Something was wrong in the village. We had to hide.

"To the basement, now!" He emerged at the bedroom, holding a rifle. "Lycans were seen surrounding the area."

We barely had any time to react, mom came and dragged us both to the basement. Father left, carrying his arsenal of weapons as usual. There were other hunters in the village but we always knew how badly it could end. Somebody could always get seriously hurt. Or worse.

The basement had been carefully prepared for that kind of situation years before. It had a big bed, two armchairs, a heating source, some stored food and a shelf. Mom sighed and forced a smile.

"So," she walked to the shelf, "what is it going to be today?"

"Frankenstein," Auryk suggested. My brother loved mystery and horror. As if his life hadn't enough of it.

"Romeo and Juliet," I spoke. There was something about forbidden romance that always caught my interest.

"Okay. I... I'm gonna say a prayer and you two can read the books you picked by yourselves. What do you think?"

"Great!"

Mom kneeled down by the bed's side, holding a crucifix. I could join her if I wanted to, but I'd rather watch in silence. I grabbed my book, sitting on one of the armchairs and pretending to pay attention, while I tried to distract myself from the fact my father could be the Lycans' next prey. Or all of us, if they managed to break into our house.

"Leena?" I woke up hours later with my mom shaking me. "Leena?! Where's Auryk? Where's your brother, Leena?"

I had no idea. I had fallen asleep and apparently, so did mom. She checked for the basement's door, it had been locked from outside.

"No..." she tried to force it open. "No! I can't be..."

All Auryk had to do was to successfully kill and take a Lycan's carcass as a trophy to his father, right? That was what that old douchebag wanted him to do, to prove his courage, his manhood. We had his shotgun, a binoculars and a knife, that should be enough, but first, he needed a good plan.

Looking down to his hands, he had the most perfect idea. Without thinking twice, he sliced a cut through his palm, letting some blood pour on the ground. Then, he found a tall tree. He climbed it and observed. The smell of blood his trail left behind should be enough to attract a creature.

"Come on... come on..."

From a distance, Auryk could hear the sound of destruction and death. There was a battle going on somewhere nearby. Once again Lycans should have found a family or a group of hunters.

And then, he could hear it. The heavy footsteps, the screeching sounds, the sniffing. The mutant creature was only a few meters away from the tree. He aimed, but it was still too distant. He needed to move to a closer branch.

It all happened in one second. He was almost there, reaching for the spot he had picked, but his weight was too much for the tree's branch. In a blink of an eye, he was lying on the ground. His vision was blurred. His head hurt intensely, as well as his arm. It was broken for sure. He possibly had a concussion too. He tried to stand up and run but his legs wouldn't follow his commands. The Lycan was coming straight at him.

"AURYK!" His mother screamed behind him. "NO!"

Time seemed to freeze in that fraction of second. How did she manage to escape the basement? How could she have found him?

But without hesitation, Savannah threw herself on top of her son, protecting him from the jaws and claws of the monster. Auryk couldn't see much, but he could smell it. He could feel it. Blood. There was blood everywhere. He couldn't tell who it belonged to, he or his mom's.

BANG! BANG! BANG!

A fast sequence of shots suggested the hunters had found them. The creature stopped moving, stopped howling. It was finally dead.

"M-Mom... it's dead. We... We're safe."

She didn't answer. Instead, he heard another familiar voice.

"WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT?!" It was from his father. "Savannah! Savannah!"

"D-Dad..." Auryk tried to speak, but the words got lost along the way. "I... I..."

Adrian lifted him by his jacket, holding him inches above the ground.

"YOU KILLED HER! YOU KILLED YOUR MOM, YOUR STUPID BASTARD!"

"I..." tears streamed down the boy's face, his injured brain trying to process what had just happened. "I'm sorry.'

After he was thrown back to the ground, he was hit with a hard kick on his stomach. He turned his head around to notice a small figure hiding behind a tree, watching the whole scene in pure horror.

"L-Leena..." he muttered.

"This is all your fault, Auryk. You're a disgrace to this family."

And then, he passed out. Rumors said he was unconscious for days or maybe weeks. When he woke up, he wished everything had been a nightmare.

Present Days - July, 2021

Nobody mourned Adrian Novak when he died. Not his children. Not his village mates. No human being would ever feel any sympathy for a man who abused and blamed his eleven years old son for his mother's death. It had been two years since Adrian left this world and I couldn't feel any more free.

"Hey," I left another message on my brother's voicemail, "in case you've forgotten it's our birthday today. I'd like to have my twin home, you know? Call me when you get this message."

It was useless, I knew. Auryk would only pick up his phone when he wanted to. Or when he was too drunk. God knew where that guy would be at that time, probably waking up at some girl's bed or getting some rest from... working.

After grabbing myself a cup of coffee, I checked the door's mat. Bills, bills, newspaper and... California Institute Of Arts? I remember having an argument with Auryk about this matter at some point. He wanted me to fill the application and send them my portfolio. I insisted we had no money, not even to pay for the tuition. I won - I always win every argument by the way.

"Your damn son of a..." I placed the envelope on the kitchen's table. I was a coward, I confess. However, I didn't know which pain was worse - to be sure I wasn't good enough or to be sure I was, indeed, but I'd never have money to leave that hellhole. Anyways, I decided to leave it alone. I had more important things to do.

My morning routine: to go to the middle of the woods and do some training. My father used to say fighting wasn't a girl thing, but I was no regular girl. And never in this life I'd allow someone to tell me what to do.

After running, climbing and doing a set of push-ups, it was time for combat training. Travelers from abroad taught me some different set of moves, I'd like to think I created my own fighting style. I was also very good with knifes, daggers or any kinds of short blades, they were useful during a close distance combat. My shooting was a work in progress, once or twice I'd miss the center of my handmade targets.

Then, like everyday, I'd go back home, shower and follow to my shift at the village's pub.

"Hiya, Leena," Gustav greeted me when I arrived. "I heard today is a special day... the day a little girl..."

"NO!" I stopped him. Gustav was my best friend. We had known each other since we were children and somehow, he liked to make my birthday a special - and embarrassing - event.

He placed a handmade fairytale-like book on the table. There were some edited pictures, mixed with some messed up drawings about my birth and childhood. He called it 'The Princess Who Carried The Light'.

"God, you're soooo stupid..." I rolled my eyes and moaned, before wrapping him into a very tight hug. "I love you, you know that?"

"I know. You'd probably marry me, if you weren't into girls."

We laughed together, as Olga, our boss emerged from the kitchen, bringing a cake with nineteen candles.

"Here's to another year," the older woman opened a wrinkled smile, "make a wish, my darling."

I fell pensive for a moment, besides having my twin brother back home, safe and sound, what else could I wish for? California, that scholarship, a new life... that's for sure.

"I wish for... a new life, a new adventure," I pronounced aloud while blowing the candles.

"Careful," a male voice spoke behind me, "words have power, little sister. You may get what you want."

"Ryk!"

I jumped straight to my brother's arms. I could swear that in only a few weeks he had gotten a little bit taller, and stronger too.

"I wouldn't miss my own birthday, right?" He smirked. "So, where's the cake? Please, chocolate... tell me it's chocolate."

"Your silly boy," Olga spread some icing on his nose. "Of course it's chocolate, as you love. And with cherries too."

Auryk responded with a satisfied smile. Olga and her husband, Kristoff, were those responsible for taking care of him after the Lycan attack, years ago. They sort of adopted him like one of their biological children.

"Oh!" The woman exclaimed taking a closer look at Ryk's forearm. He had gotten a tattoo. I hadn't been informed of those news either. Apparently, my brother had more secrets than I could even start to imagine. "This is... new. It seems like my kids are really growing up."

"And only now you noticed that, Olga?" Gustav joked.

Olga shook her head, grinning at herself and returned to the kitchen. The customers were starting to fill the pub. I stared at Ryk again, wondering what other secrets my brother could be keeping.

"So, what does that mean?" I pointed to his newly gotten tattoo, a strange and ancient symbol it seemed.

"Protection from the evil. This is what we need the most in our lives, especially in a place like this. What reminds me -" we turned around, taking a small box from the pocket of his jacket. "Your gift."

I took the black velvet box from his hands, it contained a golden necklace with a magenta gemstone as pendant. My blue eyes drowned themselves in the stone. It had a mysterious glow. Something hypnotizing. Something magical.

"Whoa..." was everything my mouth could pronounce. "And I bought you an Astronomy book."

Auryk stood up from his chair and went behind me, taking the necklace from my hands to wear it around my neck himself.

"This is supposed to protect you from any supernatural and inhumane beings. I won't lose you to them, Aleena. Not like I lost mom."

"Ryk, I... I can't even thank you enough."

"You don't have to. Just... stay alive."

First, I was overflowing with happiness. It either had to do with the fact my brother was home, alcohol, or both. Also, Olga should thank me. Most of the costumers of the day only stopped by the bar because of me. They absolutely loved me and knowing it was my birthday, they had to come and see me. A few of them even gave me some extra tips or a small gift, which was even greater.

"Okay, party girl..." Auryk helped me to get inside of the house as I tripped over the door mat. "Time to go to bed now. Don't you think?"

"Come on, Ryk! Have some spirit! You're home, Olga gave me the day off tomorrow, I earned some money..."

"You told Mrs. Hansen you secretly had a crush on her daughter during Middle School, you danced on top of a table, you're gonna get a hangover..."

"Party pooper!"

I threw myself at the couch. Auryk stood in front of me with arms crossed, looking like a father about to give his child a lecture.

"What?!" I yelled. "It's not like you've never been drunk before. Remember when you stole Adrian's..." I started to laugh, remembering the episode.

"When you were going to tell me about this, Leena?" He showed me the envelope. The Art Institute envelope. The one I had been struggling to open.

"Oh! I forgot. My bad, I didn't open it myself yet. I probably didn't get in anyways."

"You did."

I did?

"It's not like we have money to pay for my tuition. Also, how are we supposed to move to California, Ryk? I work at a pub and you..."

"I've gotten more than enough for that. You know that getting out of this place has always been the plan, since we were children. Leena, I've done some big jobs those last few months. I have the money to grant us a comfortable life in California."

"Smuggling, Ryk!" I raised my voice, saying aloud the information that was supposed to be a secret or not. "You've been stealing to grant us this life."

My brother stared at me in silence. I couldn't tell if he felt offended or embarrassed about my words.

"I'm getting out of here, whatever it takes," he ran a hand through his dark hair. "And you are coming with me. In two weeks, we move to United States for your enrollment."

"But..."

What I was trying to protest against? Leaving the village and starting a new life with my brother was everything I always dreamed.

"Look, I promise you," Auryk placed both of his firm hands on my shoulders, "once we settle down, no more smuggling."

"Okay," I sighed. "We leave in two weeks then."

There was a loud knock on the door. Being drunk as I was, I figured out I should have forgotten my purse at the pub. Or it could be a neighbor with some very stupid emergency.

Auryk opened the door and there was a strange looking man standing there. We wore sunglasses and a hat, behind his back he was carrying a giant hammer. According to the rumors and stories I heard from my parents, that was one of the Lords of The Four Houses, Karl Heisenberg.

"Auryk Novak?" He asked.

"Yes, sir."

"Come with me, kid. You've gotten yourself in big trouble."

#resident evil village #resident evil 8 #bela dimitrescu #lady dimitrescu #alcina dimitrescu #bela x oc #resident evil fanfiction #the devil in i

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palimpsessed · 3 years

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Writerly Ephemera

I was tagged by @amywaterwings @mostlymaudlin @tea-brigade @effing-numpties @captain-aralias @bloodiedpixie . This is so cool, so thanks for sharing yours! ❤️

Per Amy: We add little bits of ourselves to our writing, scattering memories and places and phrases and things into our stories. The game is to find five examples of this, of YOU, in your writing and show everyone.

I don’t really feel like I put much of my own experiences into my fic, probably because I don’t feel like I have a lot of experiences to pull from. (That’s not me being self-deprecating; that’s me never going anywhere or doing anything.) So, let’s see what we come up with!

Going to tag here. I feel like I’ve gotten to this late so I’m not sure who has been tagged. Anyway. No pressure, loves. Just saying hi. 🥰 @theflyingpeach @bazzybelle @otherworldsivelivedin @unseelieseelie @wetheformidables @caitybug @nightimedreamersworld @foolofabookwyrm @stillmadaboutpetra

1. I have put the most of myself into A Man of Letters. I have my degree in English Lit and when I was in college, I was at the height of my Jane Austen obsession. So I sort of built my degree around the development of the English novel. My senior thesis was on a book called Evelina by Frances Burney, who was one of Austen’s greatest literary influences. Evelina is an epistolary novel—told entirely in letters. I love the epistolary form, for the same reason I love dialogue and texting fics. It’s such a fun narrative technique and can reveal so much about individual characters. It’s actually a bit like the way Rainbow Rowell uses multi POV in her books. Anyway, my love of the epistle was on full display in this fic, which is ofc told in letters. —Do I share a passage? That’s like...the whole fic 😅 So, idk. Here’s Simon being a disaster as he meditates on letter writing:

Dear Penny,

As I start this letter, I already know I'm not going to post it. I know I won't be able to bring myself to do it, because of what I have to say to you. I do feel bad. It's not that I don't want to tell you. And you know I'm so much better at writing things down than saying them out loud. It's only that I feel like this would all sound better coming from me in person. I just don't think I'll be able to make you understand in a letter. I'm still trying to understand myself. And writing all of this down helps me with that. Even if I'm only pretending to write to you, it makes me feel better, to think of you on the other end. I promise I really will tell you everything as soon as we're together again.

2. Also for A Man of Letters, my fascination with Regency fashions, in particular the dandy, was a major factor. I did an art book about this, comparing how fashion has changed over time, especially in regard to gender. (I also did an art book based on Evelina, since I’m on the subject. I minored in book art. 😁) I always fancied the look of a Regency dandy, so that was my gift to Baz.

Whoever has been working their magic on Salisbury should in fact be the person to whom I offer my eternal devotion. Alas, I am left to flounder under the burden of lusting after a man who is incapable of dressing himself.

The utter and unmitigated shame.

Salisbury wore a forest green wool frock coat that set off the golden highlights in his brown locks. This was accented with a green and aubergine striped silk waistcoat that was trimmed in white piping and felt much too daring a pattern for the man. (I don't care if he was a soldier; it takes a hardier man than him by half to choose a stripe like that.) His charcoal trousers were enticingly snug, but not so much to prove lethal. His cravat and points left much to be desired, though that likely reflected poorly on his ability to keep himself in order, rather than the ability of his valet. (Good God, maybe the man doesn't even have a valet!)

3. When it came to my countdown fic, To the Manor Borne, I had Shep make a reference to Cluedo, because Pitch Manor would be perfect for a real life game. Behind that, is the fact that my family played a lot of Clue and I watched the movie a whole bunch growing up, to the point where my sister and I used to quote it to each other. This was a way to pay homage to that. He also talks about playing the game Murder in the Dark, which was one I played at Halloween as a kid. One of my cousins was dressed as a ghoul with glow in the dark face paint and we were in my grandma’s creepy upstairs. Perfect vibes.

I’ve seen the kitchen and the dining room and the library and the study and the parlor. Walking through this house is like playing Clue. (They call it Cluedo on this side of the pond, because they like to be difficult.) (That was a whole thing. Do not get me started.)

I keep thinking Colonel Mustard’s going to pop up out of nowhere and brain me with a lead pipe.

And:

What kind of games do you play with magickal friends who don't have magic? Twister? Not with the wings and tail. Cards? Baz and Penny would cheat. Or accuse everyone else of cheating if they didn't win. Murder in the dark? With these people, in this house, I knew it would turn literal fast, and also it was like ten in the morning. Hide and seek? Simon and I would hide and everyone else would ditch. Snowball fight? World War III.

4. I’ve referenced Mozart in my fics a couple of times because when I was first getting into classical music, I was listening to a lot of Mozart. My sister had a CD of some of his early symphonies, and my local classical station does “Mozart in the Mornings” which happened to fit in the exact time slot between two morning classes I had my first year in college. I’d go sit in my car with a cup of tea, and just vibe with Mozart as my soundtrack. I’ve name dropped him in both A Man of Letters and To the Manor Borne. Also, Mozart wrote 12 variations on the melody shared by Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star, which is a lovely tie in. (I also had the gang sing/cast The Holly and the Ivy, which is one of my favorite Christmas carols, and by strange coincidence was playing on the radio at the same time I wrote that scene. 🥰)

"It's a songbook," I tell him, like he can't figure that out for himself. "Did you know that Mozart wrote twelve different versions of the same song?"

He's laughing. "Mozart did not write Twinkle, twinkle, little star, Simon."

"You know what I mean."

"He composed twelve variations for solo piano on the French folk melody Ah! Vous dirai-je, maman."

"Sure. Anyway, this is for the violin. For you to play."

He's still laughing, and I'm trying to figure out what's so funny, but then he kisses me again, on the lips this time, so I figure maybe I'm still doing okay.

Only one more to go! What will it be? 👀

5. Therapy! Eheheh...😅 Look, it’s no secret the gang needs it. And tbh, so do I. Haven’t actually managed to get myself to go yet, and I think that’s where a lot of my “send them to therapy” happy endings come from. I did it in Use Your Words and To the Manor Borne. I started Chamber by Chamber with SnowBaz already in therapy, and then structured the whole thing around therapy that they give to each other and to themselves. It didn’t really fit in A Man of Letters, but if it had, I absolutely would have done it. I’ve only shared from two fics so far, and since it could kind of spoil the ending to Use Your Words (tho saying this may be spoiler anyway...), here are two snippets from It’s a Kind of Magic, Part I of Chamber by Chamber.

I've been working on articulating my needs. We both have. Ordinarily, I'd be afraid of pushing him away by making demands when he's on the verge of a spiral, but my therapist insists that I can't go on treating Simon with kid gloves. If I never ask him for anything, he'll think he doesn't have anything to give.

And

When I told that to my therapist, she said that I needed to talk it out of me and she'd help me find ways to work through it all. She said I needed to talk it out with Baz, too, so that he'd know how to help me when things got bad again—that was something else she said, that things would get bad again, and that I'd need to be prepared for that. That I couldn't expect things to be easy, and just go away.

6. BONUS! I think the biggest way I include bits of myself is in the AUs I’ve chosen to write. I have three I’m planning that say a lot about me, so I’m going to talk a bit about them here. There is ofc my Scooby Doo AU, inspired in large part by the fact that I watched it all the time growing up and also, my sister continues to be obsessed with it. When we were young, my parents were doing a lot of work on their house and we’d take family trips to the hardware store. My sister and I hated it, so we’d wait in the car with my mom and she would entertain us with “Scooby Doo stories”. Other AUs I’m planning? Troop Beverly Hills—please tell me someone else out there loved this movie the way I did when I was 5. It was very influential to baby me and I remember wishing for nothing more than being able to dress like Shelley Long. So, I’m going to let Baz do it, because I think he deserves it. 🥰 Lastly, tho it will probably be the first I write, is my Cupid and Psyche AU, from when I was heavy into mythology and religion. Since these are all forthcoming projects, I don’t really have a snippet. Instead, here’s Baz comparing Simon to Eros, which is what started my brain on that particular AU.

I am lost. I barely know anything about Salisbury, but I can't help being drawn in. At one time, I could have comforted myself that I was only so smitten with him because he looks like he was sculpted by Praxiteles. That excuse grows weaker with every encounter. He's the furthest thing from a lifeless tribute to beauty in marble as one can be. There is something deep and dark and feral inside of him and I want to claw it out. I want to see it, to let it free. To taste his wildness and his pain.

#tag game #writerly ephemera

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okay-victoria · 3 years

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Random Personal Rant

For anyone somehow here not from the original thread, this started off me getting asked what finishing school is and me getting shit off my chest that is only mildly relevant about how I could both be of the social class that gets sent to finishing school and grows up on welfare.

With an understanding that in many parts of the world it wouldn't qualify as so, as far as the US goes, my dad is from what counts as a very old money family from Baltimore & Philadelphia. Both his siblings went to college and one now owns a major hedge fund, and his sister is married to a C-level executive at a huge conglomerate. His parents went to college. His grandparents went to college. All eight of his great grandparents went to college. My dad...did not go to college. He was not about that life, and while I don't mean it as an insult, when I say his primary occupation until I was ~5 was a drummer in a mediocre band I mean that he opened for a lot of great acts, and if you lived in the Boston to Atlanta area in the 80s you may have heard him play, but he was never a huge national name. But he wasn't an amateur band playing for free at some random local gig either.

My mom grew up on a chicken farm in a Mennonite family in Pennsylvania but also completely rejected her heritage and became a model, sort of like my father, of mediocre status. Not Giselle Bundchen, but had national contracts and if you have a Graco ad/box from 1990-1993 you might see both me and her on it. They met because my mom's friends placed bets, one each, on who could sleep with a member of their favorite local band first and my mom picked my dad and...my mom was actually supposed to go be a model in Tokyo and found out she was pregnant with me and couldn't go 😂

So, after my parents had two kids back to back with a third on the way and determined they needed lifestyles more in line with having three children, they became much poorer than they originally were because my mom stopped working and my dad, with a barely-passed-high-school education but needing a true "day job" worked day labor in construction. My dad's father was too proud to give us money/help if my dad didn't beg for it; despite having eventually four young children my dad never did so we ended up on all the state assistance programs one could imagine. My grandma jokes that dinners at my parents house were BYOC - bring your own chair, because we didn't own any.

My mother and paternal grandmother had no such pride issues and I live in eternal gratitude that my welfare childhood was not as crappy as it should have been because my grandmother would have my mom accompany her on grocery runs and buy us food without my father or grandfather knowing, and every Christmas and birthday my grandparents/godparents could give us the one big ticket gift all the kids wanted that year. But, on the other side, I once got stung by a bee inside my mouth because my brother threw a hairbrush through a cracked window at me and broke it and we couldn't afford to fix it for about two years and a hornet got in one day and rested himself in my coke can (my parents were the very American type that fed me coca-cola in baby bottles at age 8 when I was jealous of my younger siblings lol).

It is hard not to believe in "toxic masculinity" when two men warring over dumbass pride issues would rather their children/grandchildren go without food than suck it up and decide 'help' isn't the worst word in the English language, and you know you've only been saved by two women who came from totally different backgrounds and entirely disapproved of each other but reached out the hand to shake when it came down to toddlers getting the short end of the don't-bend-the-knee stick. It wasn't that either of the men were bad people, I loved them both and got along great with both, but on a societal level I feel they were socialized in a very fucked up way if that was the end result, as both claimed "male pride" in these instances [my dad took multiple thousands of dollars I'd saved from working during college from me during the 2008-2010 financial crisis and didn't tell me and that was the reason I was given for why I hadn't been informed/asked, because it would be too emotionally difficult for an adult man to ask a young woman. My graduation present was them repaying me 1/3 of the money they'd taken from me without asking because I'd like, trusted them when it had been in a joint account that was a holdover from when I was <18 and couldn't have my own bank account].

While in some ways my parents on the surface achieved the American dream of going from nothing to a bunch of money, the real factor in play was that my dad's father was the bank. My parents had no credit and couldn't get real loans. My dad worked construction and during the two major periods that flipping houses was very lucrative, he never had to get an actual loan or pay actual interest, he just had to ask his father to pay out cash and then repay him at a flat 2% interest rate that didn't even accrue over time, just...whenever you are ready, repay the value of the loan + 2%. Because my father was doing something productive, in these instances, my grandfather was happy to pay, because it wasn't giving away money, it was loaning it. I had a very weird situation of mostly being poor but like also getting taken to the "big donors" events at the Kennedy Center and my grandparents regularly buying me a dress as a child worth more than my mom's wedding dress and also needing to pretend I fit in with these people.

And look. When I say "these people"...honestly, by and large, most wealthy people, whether inherited or not, are not the assholes you want to imagine. Most of them are extremely nice. Most of them are generous when it comes to the less fortunate who are in their personal sphere of being. Most of them are just really out of touch. The 100% kindest of all of them that I know once relayed to me that she thought people would be happier if once a year they did what she did...go to the airport with a purse packed full of absolute necessities, buy a one way ticket to the most appealing destination on the flight board, buy your clothes and book your accommodations after you'd arrived, and come back after you felt you'd 'centered' yourself. She didn't understand why there were so many unhappy people who weren't taking this very obvious route to being happier. I didn't quite know how to explain that saying "most" people couldn't afford to do that either financially or from a job/career angle didn't even cover it, as "most" sounds like 70% instead of 99.7%.

I was both my parents eldest son and eldest daughter in the worst combination possible. I was the eldest son because I was the most stereotypically male of all my siblings, in everything from desire to physically fight the battles I was given to dislike of shopping/fashion to lack of emotional connection to my relationships, so I can now fix your average household plumbing/drywall/electrical issue better than most "city" guys I interact with and remain less clingy to them in the process. I was also very much the oldest daughter from a responsibility perspective, I managed our household and from age 10 - 24 managed the finances of our family business, my mom almost died giving birth to my youngest brother after a ruptured uterus that should never have happened in the first place if we had adequate insurance to get her a non-emergency C-section (I was just past 9 years old at the time) and I was informally withdrawn from school for two years to take care of the family when she couldn't because there is no paid parental leave in the US and we got double-fucked by the medical industry because she got a bad "mesh" put in and then had to have a further surgery to repair that which we also had to pay for and didn't have the money to win a lawsuit over.

I don't know quite how to put this, but in the deepest fuck you of the universe, my rich-immigrant-ggggg grandfather's money led to him owning banks, insurance companies, etc, and the family cashed out in a big way when their ownership was bought by and merged with what is now Cigna, one of the biggest US healthcare insurers, and my nuclear family specifically got screwed by the American health insurance industry, but anyway, we were the people selected for that karmic comeuppance so if you want to feel schadenfreude at my expense, I'll allow it without begrudging the sentiment, my family might have fucked up your family’s life too, not just their own.

I got up twice a night to feed my brother because my dad had to sleep unmolested in my room to get to work and my mom was too weak to carry my brother or even hold him against her while she nursed so I had to hold him up to her. Adjusting to living in a city and hearing lots of random noises all the time was not easy when I'd had mom sound instincts from age 9.

I learned to drive the fall my youngest bro was born because my mom couldn't and I had to get my middle brother to preschool and go the grocery store on my own. While I hold absolutely no ill will towards my father or grandfather for this and given that about 1/3 of my paternal family either has an autism diagnosis or should, I fully feel the struggles they both went through to be communicated with, my father wouldn't ask for help, and my grandmother that lived 20 minutes away couldn't give enough help because my grandfather refused to do a single dish on his own as that was outside their "marriage contract" type agreement and she couldn't ever stay with us overnight when there wasn't a clearly-communicated need, so they let the burden fall on a 9 - 11 year old child and that really shaped a lot of my life in both good and bad ways. My youngest brother is 22, and we have only just climbed out of the medical debt his birth left us with between my dad's life insurance and my oldest brother and I paying for the extra cost of out-of-state college tuition.

The irony of all of this is that because my father died before his father, when my grandmother dies, my siblings and I will all inherit enough money (as a non-blood relative my mom, despite keeping her vows to part at death and not having remarried in eight years, is cut out entirely) to make this a non-issue, but my grandfather couldn't conscience spotting his unluckiest child some money in the end of days to pay for my youngest two brothers' education and take that worry off my father as he was dying. The day before he died I had to hold him down in bed to keep him from trying to climb in his truck to go to work because he was so anxious about trying to provide for us in spite of his father having fuck you money, because his father didn't think it was fair to the other siblings (who, at the time, still owned a major hedge fund and were married to a C-level executive of a huge conglomerate). A day and a half later I went back to my job because at the time I was then the sole provider for the family and didn't want to risk asking for the standard week's bereavement leave when I knew I was capable of showing up at work the next day and was fresh out of college so hadn't built up a reputation yet.

My father worked the day each of us was born, so I suppose it is only fair and he smiled at the choice. In spite of what it may seem, I gave a baller and very heartfelt speech at his funeral to all his rich friends that over and above everything, he'd taught us how to be happy with our own lives no matter what, and multiple of them emailed my mom in the aftermath to say they'd reassessed their relationship with their children in light of it, although...tbh I kind of doubt that lasted and they probably changed nothing 😅. The last good talk I had with him, two weeks before he died [his liver was going and it sent toxins to his brain that de-personed him after that and he no longer recognized me as his daughter, but as his sister], I reassured him that though we would all be sad he'd gone, we'd live on just fine without him because that's how he'd raised us, and according to my mom that was what gave him the final bit of peace he needed. Although honestly, I don't think I will ever see the strength in another human again that it took my grandmother to sit next to him and stroke his hand and tell him to close his eyes and imagine he was happy on a beach and die, for God's sake, because he was unaware and in pain and just prolonging it for our sake by then.

That type of obsession my grandfather had with assessing his children and grandchildren on the basis of economic productivity and a very black and white idea of "fair" is one you don't easily forget, I promise you. My hedge fund uncle is currently positioning himself to screw us out of our inheritance because of janky writing in the will and I'm doing my fuck all best to gain the wherewithal to go toe-to-toe with this cold motherfucker in court as the oldest and representative member of my happily much nicer and softer younger brothers who I want to remain that way not because I even care that much about the money, I know what bills affect your credit first and what you can put off paying and all of us have good enough career prospects to do our own thing, but just because I want to give the middle finger to a man that was a multi-millionaire and drew lines on his milk and orange juice bottles when I came over so he knew if I drank what my parents couldn't afford when I was approximately six. Anyway, ask me why I support major reforms in wealth taxation. I don't care who it goes to, just not that guy, you feel?

Having expendable income was very exciting for a bit after I started working but once I got to the hateable point of assessing my annual bonus and internally complaining that I'd spent the money I should have spent on a Sauternes cellar to drop five digits on bedset materials (to be fair they are drop dead gorgeous, very comfy and the factory pays a living wage for people to handmake the sheets/duvets/pillows to people in San Francisco, which is not cheap, so maybe I did more good than harm with that), I two seconds later nodded to myself and went "the government needs to confiscate more money from me". The narrative is always that the "undeserving" will use it for dumb things they don't need like iPhones or refrigerators...?...but like...I could also have gone to Bed Bath and Beyond and bought a very nice sheet/comforter set for at most a tenth of what I paid so am I really spending it responsibly either....?....who is going to get more joy out of this misspent money....?....not me, that is for sure, I probably would have had more fun going to BBB and laying on all the demo beds and buying something there.

My lifelong dream, which may become possible if/when I do have something of an inheritance, is to provide food security for one of the many towns in the US were most residents don't have it. It's the thing I remember the most distinctly over the years. I never could quite believe it when I got to the point that I could just...pay to eat at a restaurant. One of the most disappointed my mother has ever been in me is when I was twenty five and confessed I actually had no idea how much a gallon of milk cost in a city grocery store besides that it was probably between $1 and $5, because I didn't have to know. For now I make a weekly drop off of my excess produce to a mom group I met under somewhat weird circumstances but I was walking through the cut-through that went through the low-income housing back to my apartment at like 2 AM on a Saturday and these moms were out there partying and smoking weed with their kids all strapped in strollers around or the older ones watched by a rotating member of the group and I felt very safe and like these moms had a very good vibe of both living their own lives [seriously for mental health parents but in most cases specifically mothers need to be able to keep up relationships with people their age] but keeping their children safe and accounted for while doing so and trying their fuckin' best against all the odds to figure out how to make that happen when life had dealt them a shit hand.

...anyway, looping way back to the original question of what finishing school is, when I was almost done with middle school my dad had built a legit construction business that then very quickly took off because we lived in a commutable zip code to the now-rich-in-their-own-right people he went to high school with who trusted him to redo their homes. We eventually moved to that zip code but I stayed and commuted back to my old high school. But, i was a pretty wild kid which my father appreciated for a long while because I would follow him around on jobs and enjoy doing physical labor, but once I was mid-puberty and also he had to maybe show me to his high school friends that did not fly.

I snapped - not broke, snapped - my left thumb and my parents had to trap me like a wild animal to get me to go the hospital. Then I got a deep cut that partially injured a tendon in my leg and at eleven I tried to beat the shit out of my dad to prevent him from picking me up to strap me in the car and go to the hopsital. Next I got a deep splinter due to my eternal-barefoot tendencies and it wouldn't come out so got infected and I refused to go to the doctor [another weird back story but I was minorly sexually assaulted [[to be clear, not raped or anything big traumatic]] when I was eight and had to stay in hospital for a week and my parents couldn't be with me all the time so I have a permanent heebie-jeebie about going to the hospital, not true anxiety, I will go if I know I need to and I don't breathe heavy or anything, and I'm actually not permanently weirded out by sex or anything, just doctors in hospitals specifically I kind of unconsciously try to justify not needing to the extent I can rationalize it] and my dad was tired of my antics so he was like "fine if you don't go I will slice your foot in half with a Swiss Army knife to get it out" and I called his bluff and laid down on the floor, stuck my foot on his lap, and he didn't really know what to do when a barely fourteen year old girl called his bluff so my brothers watched in fascinated but horrified awe as I got my foot sliced open spectacularly so that the infection/splinter could come out and I didn't even make a sound out of spite despite it being quite painful to my recollection almost twenty years later.

They saw me cry from pain exactly one time when while trying to break up a fight between all three of them (it was over ice cream) I got pushed and my ankle got dislocated and what actually made me cry was snapping it back in place and they realized it was not a joke. These dumb assholes that I love have ragged on me for "skipping" chores the day after I was in the hospital because the day before that I had to spend 18 hours running Thanksgiving as a good sub-hostess like I didn't have a serious infection that needed treating and couldn't rest because none of them were up to any task beyond peeling potatoes.

After the Swiss Army knife incident, my dad's discussion of sending me to finishing school became real, which I knew when my mom made me take a walk with her and talked about it. Finishing school is like...etiquette school....? In ye olden day when finishing high school was not the norm for anyone, wealthy men finished high school and wealthy women often went to "finishing" school to have a combined education on being a proper lady but also being able to hold a decent conversation with your presumably-educated husband, so it wasn't entirely etiquette non-academic. It was more just like "what a rich man wants in a wife" school, which was sort of household management and knowing enough about cleaning/cooking to correct the staff if they fucked up, how to be a polite hostess, and how to not entirely bore him when you were alone together and had done your five minutes of sex or whatever so actually had to have a conversation. In modern times it has obviously expanded to be less bleak.

I said miss me with that, I can be a girl on my own, so I went full throttle into the girliest sport they offer in high school and ever since have gained the inestimable advantage of knowing how to also use femininity to my advantage, which I am very grateful to my parents for making me learn. It would be great if we lived in a world where that didn't count, but it did/still does, and they really set me up to operate in all the worlds.

It is weird for me to tell the story to Internet strangers because it's one of those things that makes your parents sound terrible and abusive in the general tone of the Internet nowadays, and while I support gender nonconforming children I don't remember my childhood or parents that way. But, I feel like the bits and pieces of my life I've given don't always make a ton of sense together without the context, so here it is, and in the end, I think a number of parts of it are areas where you can probably understand where it makes me have the opinions I do when I write.

Anyhoo, this makes my life sound far worse than it is, I actually have a great life and I am not unhappy with it at all and feel I was on the whole blessed with many more turns of luck than unluck, so, please, do not take this as a depressed artist rant, it is more like a rant of a very energetic person who rants about a lot of things all the time and didn’t need to come out but just did because the question was asked and the time was right with my life being in a bit of flux to think about how I got where I am and where I want to go and why.

Always remember no matter what problems it seems like I have, if I didn’t solve them on my 2 year round the world traveling hiatus I took from working, it’s my own fault, I definitely had the time and money to solve them and just chose not to.

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of-a-chaotic-mind · 3 years

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Finding Out

Summary: Reader visits The Empty to retrieve Cas and finds out who her parents were, one of which was right there with her all along.

TW/CW: Sam Winchester x Daughter!Reader. Angst (towards the end). “Orphaned” Reader taken in by the Winchesters. Mentions of Sam Winchester x Ruby.

Requested?: Yes, a lovely Anon said, “Could you do a Sam x daughter!reader where they found her as a baby but she was half demon so they took her in to try and be good and she grows up with them and stuff and then I’m season 15 instead of Cas going to the empty it’s her going (bc she’s half demon) where they find Ruby and Ruby admits to the reader that she’s her mother and Sams her father”

Word Count: 1,423

A/N: I feel like I should warn that I haven’t watched season 15 yet but I can still write her going to the empty bc I know what it is. I’ll try my best 😊 I hope it’s okay considering I didn’t really know what I was doing lol. I tried to make it somewhat fit into the timeline but it’s a little funky. Anyway, love to all!

Your POV

Hi, I’m (Y/n). I was adopted into a pretty cool family when I was just a kid. I don’t remember much about it because I was only about three years old. I have an older brother named Jack Kline. He’s what they call a Nephilim which is a half human, half angel. Biologically, he’s the son of Lucifer but he always insists that his real dad is Castiel. Castiel is an angel. Then there’s Sam and Dean Winchester. They’re brothers but they act a lot like I think a mom and dad would to me. Sam is like my mom, he’s always helping me out with my studying, training, and making sure that I remember to eat. When I get in trouble, he’s the one giving me the stern mom look that I’ve seen Grandma Jody give him and Dean. Dean on the other hand usually acts like he’s upset but as soon as Sam turns his back, Dean is high fiving me for being hilarious or smart or whatever but telling me not to do it again because Sam didn’t like it. He also taught me a lot about working on cars because I help him fix Baby all the time. If we ever decide to drop the hunting life, which I doubt we will, I’d love for me and him to open a garage together.

Anyway, enough about them. You probably would like to know a little more about me. Like I said, I was adopted when I was about three years old because someone left me on the doorstep of the motel that Sam and Dean were staying in then. I don’t remember who it was but I remember them telling me to wait there because the people inside would take care of me until my mommy came back to get me. I never knew where she went and because of it I grew up pretty quickly thinking that she just didn’t want a little child and would come back for a teenager, she didn’t. I became what most people would say is about sixteen or seventeen. I remember Jack doing the same thing after he was born. It surprised Sam, Dean, and Cas when I did it but they assumed it was because of who I am. You’re probably thinking, okay so you’re a Nephilim, who are your parents? That’s just it. I don’t know who my parents are but I do know that I’m not half angel. I’m half demon. Cas realized that almost immediately. For a while, there was some debate about whether they would keep me but they finally decided that they would, but the search for my parents didn’t stop there.

They called up an old friend who happens to be the King of Hell and asked him if he could tell who my parents were or at least the demon half of the pair but no such luck. So, as my powers started manifesting themselves, we started training. It took some time but I eventually became able to control them and sometimes I use them on hunts but not often as it attracts a lot of attention.

I’m dragged away from my walk down memory lane as I sense something shift around me. I open my eyes and look around but see nothing. Literally, it’s a giant void. I remember now. I came to The Empty to get Cas back. “You’re so much older than I expected. I bet you still have your dad’s eyes huh? Not exactly something you can get rid of,” I hear someone say behind me. Turning around, I am faced with a woman who looks almost exactly like me. She’s a small bit taller and has brown eyes instead of green like mine. She’s also wearing an outfit similar to mine. If it weren’t for the small subtle differences, I’d think that I’m looking in a mirror.

“Who are you? You’re not like me from the future, are you?” I inquire.

“That sense of humor sounds a lot like Dean’s,” she says laughing, “No, I’m not you from the future. How would you change your eye color to make that happen?”

I tilt my head and think for a moment, she has a point. Before I can say anything else, another voice joins the conversation, with a hint of bitterness in their tone, “She’s your mother.” I recognize that voice instantly as Cas appears at my side.

The woman in front of me smiles and looks at Cas, “Come on, Castiel. I was trying to break it to her gently,” she looks back at me, “I’m your mom. My name is Ruby.”

I’m quiet for a moment as I process this new information, “So, if you’re my mom then you should know who my dad is right?”

Ruby shares a certain look with Cas that I recognize as a, “Do you want to tell her or should I?” look. Cas nods so Ruby looks back at me, “Sam is your dad.”

Before I can ask any more questions, a loud noise erupts from somewhere in the darkness and Cas grabs my arm, “We need to go. That’s it.”

Ruby looks to me with a sad smile, “I love you, kiddo. Always remember that.” With that, she waves her arm and Cas and I are thrown aside. Suddenly, it's hard to tell if my eyes are open and I’m still somewhere in The Empty or my eyes are closed and I’m not. I hear someone calling my name and realize I need to open my eyes. As I do, the light is almost unbearable but squatting beside me are Sam, Dean, and Jack. I sit up and rub my eyes as I try to make sense of the information, I just learned moments before.

I look up as someone starts gently rubbing my back. Jack is now sitting cross legged beside me and Dean is squatting down to our level but Sam and Cas are nowhere to be found. “You okay?” Dean asks quietly. Before I can answer, Sam and Cas reenter the room. I stand, as do Dean and Jack, and watch Sam carefully, wondering if Cas told him. Sam takes a deep breath before racing forward and wrapping me in a hug. I quickly return it.

When we pull apart, Dean and Jack look very confused as Sam looks down at me with a smile and moves my hair out of my face, “I’ve had a hunch for a while that you were her daughter. There’s no denying that you look almost exactly like her but I had no idea that you’re mine too.”

“Hang on, did I just hear you right?” Dean questions.

Sam and I both turn to look at Dean as Cas answers, “(Y/n) is the daughter of Sam and Ruby.”

Dean’s shocked expression is almost cartoon like as he opens and closes his mouth looking for a response like a fish looking for water. We all sit down around one of the tables in the library as Cas explains everything that Ruby told him prior to my arrival in The Empty. Apparently, after she and Sam spent their time together, she found out that she was pregnant. When she died, Crowley found me and left me for Sam and Dean to take care of because if he couldn’t just get rid of me and he had his hands too full to take care of me himself. Everyone seemed kind of shocked but processed it rather quickly. I on the other hand felt like I now had a gaping hole in my chest, like something was missing. I just found out that she’s my mom but I can’t ever see her again. I silently get up from the table and make my way to my room. Behind me, I hear Sam tell the others, “She probably needs some time alone. One of us can check on her in a little bit.” As I close my door behind me and flop down onto my bed, the hole in my chest begins to ache and tears break through the dam. I snuggle up to one of my pillows and not for the first time in my life, I wish I had my mom there to comfort me but it hurts even worse now that I have a face to put to the title. Soon, I manage to cry myself to sleep and drift off into dreams that are sure to sting when I wake up.

Masterlist

Taglist: @emiijemii @castiels-majestic-wings

#sam winchester #sam winchester imagine #sam winchester imagines #sam winchester x daughter!reader #sam winchester oneshot #sam winchester oneshots #supernatural #supernatural imagine #supernatural imagines #supernatural oneshots #supernatural oneshot #spn ruby

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victoria-daydreams · 3 years

Text

Of Vices and Virtues

Chapter Ten: Old Wounds

AN: I really don’t know what to say here, other than enjoy!

Word Count: 4.3k

Trigger Warnings: unhealthy coping mechanisms?

Taglist: @azayamari

Chapter Eleven: Bottled Up

"Claudia," Erik called. "I'm bored,"

We were sitting in Central Park where I sat on a bench enjoying the fall season of New York. The sound of children playing freely with their parents was all around me, and I couldn't help but to wish that was the childhood I had. So carefree, so normal.

"And what does that have to do with me?" I asked, too immersed in my reading to look up.

"I'd figured that maybe you would entertain me," Erik suggested.

I rolled my eyes and chuckled before I continued my reading, switching from both hands holding the novel to my left hand holding it open as I bit the nail of my right thumb.

"If you wanted entertainment, you should have stayed with Moira and Charles to watch the musicians playing," I reminded dryly, finally looking up from my book and turning my head to follow the sound violins being played beautifully.

They played Bach and Handel, then they moved to Mozart, and then they played some pieces that I was unable to identify, possibly compositions of their own. Their fingers moved as if they were dancing over the necks of the violins, the notes filled the air. The sound of high pitched laughter broke the daze I had gone into and my eyes darted to the source of it. A smile graced my lips as I watched a group of children playing tag with each other.

Erik followed my gaze, "How you ever thought about it?" he asked, looking over at me.

"Thought about what?" I asked back, turning my head to him.

"Having children of your own?"

"Maybe," I answered, slightly shrugging my shoulders. "If the world wasn't so cruel," I continued, sighing heavily. "I wouldn't want to raise my child in an environment that hates them the moment they're born," I added, shaking my head. "What about you? Do you want children?" I questioned, closing my copy of The Great Gatsby.

"I do," Erik answered, and I raised my eyebrows in shock.

"Boy or girl?" I asked again, turning my body to face him.

"Girl,"

"Aww, who knew that someone like Erik Lehnsherr would want a little baby girl," I teased, a smile on my face and Erik just rolled his eyes at me. "She'll be in good hands and well taken care of, she'll have a better childhood than the both of us," I proposed, nodding my head with a grin.

We sat in silence for a moment, Erik, I could feel him watching me, but I was too preoccupied by staring off into space, chewing on my bottom lip. Thinking of what could have been with my own family.

"Bombing aside," Erik began pulling me back to reality. "Did you have a happy childhood?" he asked, draping his arm over the back of the park bench, his body now facing my own.

"Bombing aside," I repeated, cocking my head to the side. "I would say I had a decent childhood," I corrected. "Until I was seven," I remembered, my hand closing and forming a fist.

"What happened when you were seven?"

"I found out that I was different from most kids," I stated quietly, a tight-lipped smile appearing on my face.

A high pitched squeal escaped from my mouth as I kicked the ball back to my dad before I ran around our small backyard the grass tickling my feet. A wide smile on my face as my bare feet hit the cool green surface, my toes digging into the earth. A bright yellow spot caught my eye, surrounded by a sea of green grass. I forced myself to slow down and stopped at the yellow dot, bending down I realized it was a dandelion. My grin grew wider and I snatched it from the ground, raising up from the ground I turned to the back porch where my mom and grandma were residing.

"Mama, look!" I yelled, proudly displaying my dandelion.

Mama lifted her head up from the sleeping of bundle of my sister and smiled at me, "That's so pretty, Claudia!" Mama cheered, and I nodded my head vigorously in agreement.

"Claudia watch out!" Daddy shouted.

I turned my head immediately to the sound of his voice and the ball we had been kicking was on a straight path to my face. I let out a shriek and threw my hands out to protect myself. And just like that, it seemed like time froze. I peeked behind my raised arms and gasped, the ball hadn't hit me, instead the ball was suspended in midair surrounded in a pretty shade of violet. Confused, I lowered my arms and was shocked to see the ball slowly coming closer to the ground as I moved my arms down; I was controlling whatever force held it. I lowered the ball to the ground gently, before releasing the force around the ball.

"Mama, Daddy! Did you see what I did?" I asked excitedly.

No one answered me. It was dead quiet and I swallowed nervously, as I looked at my parents and Grandma. Mama had her hand covering her mouth and her eyes were wide open, filling up with tears. Seconds later Daddy was at my side. Grandma got to her knees, before clasping her hands together and began praying quietly.

"Claudia, what did you do?" Mama asked, in the most frightened tone I had ever heard her use.

"I knew my parents were horrified, even my father, although he never let it show. I mean why wouldn't he be. What I could do...it wasn't exactly normal behavior," I recalled, a mirthless laugh escaping my mouth.

"They didn't disown you, I hope?" Erik asked, a frown appearing on his face.

"Luckily, they didn't. Could you imagine throwing your seven year-old daughter out the house?" I speculated, knitting my eyebrows together. "That would be horrific!" I exclaimed.

"What did your parents do after witnessing your ability? How did they react?" Erik questioned.

"They told me they loved me regardless..." I trailed off.

Daddy knelt down in front of me and grasped my small shoulders, inspecting me closely, "Claudia…sweetheart…Mama and I want you to stay quiet about this. Alright?"

I frowned at what Daddy asked, "But why? It's amazing and so pretty!"

Mama knelt down beside Daddy and gave me a small, sad smile, "Yes, it is. But you have to understand something...sometimes...people get scared of things they don't understand," Mama explained gently.

I tilted my head to the side as I processed what Mama just said, "Why would people be scared?"

"That's hard to explain, honey. Personally...we don't know of anyone that has a...gift...like you do. If you showed others, they may react badly to it and they might hurt you," Mama tried to further explain to me.

I looked down at the ground. I had noticed Mama's hesitation about using the word gift. It made me wonder. "Are you scared of me now?"

At my question, both Mama and Daddy embraced me tightly. "No. No we're not," Daddy said with conviction.

"But you didn't believe them, did you?"

"You know what? I did actually. It was what my Grandma said that made questioned my parents true feelings about my mutation," I admitted.

"What did she say?"

"She told me that one day there will be a cure for me," I spat, recalling my Grandma's words. "I thought that would be the worst thing she would say to me, but oh how wrong I was," I went on, shaking my head.

"I take it you developed your empathic powers soon after," Erik guessed.

I nodded, "Two weeks had barely passed after my telekinetic incident, when I started to get these horrible headaches," I explained, my expression darkening. "That's when I began to pick up on emotions that weren't mine. I had told my parent's that I could feel their emotions as they passed through their minds. Of course, at first, they assumed I was playing around but after proving my talent to them both, they were shaken," I added.

I shook my head again, thinking back to how it had taken my family quite a while to get used to my empathy. To realize that a pain in your chest caused by the anguish that suddenly rose from no where was not your own, but someone else's. It was a violation in a way, and one that made my family hesitant to be near me.

"My grandma turned completely hostile toward me. In an attempt to get rid of me, my grandma suggested that they send me to psych ward because I was having a a mental breakdown," I stated, crinkling my noise in disgust while shaking my head. "God Erik, why did you ruin this beautiful day by making me recall my childhood," I groaned, running hand through my hair. "Now I actually need some entertainment," I mentioned, standing up from the wooden bench and walking away from him.

"Claudia, wait," Erik called, and I could hear his footsteps jogging behind me. "Come on, you know that was never my intention," he reasoned, falling in line with my stride.

Sighing, I looked over at him and nodded my head, "I know," I agreed. "You know I can be over dramatic," I breathed, my lips quirking up into a small smile.

A cool breeze blew through the trees of Central Park, bringing with it a flurry of freshly fallen leaves which stood a stark contrast to flocks of lively birds making their way steadily northward. My eyes scanned my surroundings, people were about the park as always, going about their business as only New Yorkers truly could.

"Erik," I began, sliding my book into my coat pocket. "Do you think I'm going crazy?" I asked randomly, facing him again

He cocked an eyebrow and laughed, "What? No," Erik answered, shaking his head with a smile. "I haven't seen one sign that you're losing your mind," he continued, his smile widening. "A strange question to ask Claudia, I have to say," Erik stated, with a chuckle.

I shrugged, "I have a feeling that Charles thinks I'm going crazy," I theorized, interlocking my fingers together behind my back.

"Don't be ridiculous Claudia," Erik grinned. "What would ever make you think that?" he inquired, letting out a hearty laugh.

"Why else do you think we took this impromptu trip here?" I pointed out, unlinking my fingers and sticking my hand in front of me. "He means wells, but all because I was distant two days ago, he's been like a mother hen," I complained, beginning to fiddle with the amber charm of my necklace. "Always watching me from over my shoulder and monitoring me. I haven't been able to really use my empathic powers because all Charles wants to do is focus on my telekinesis," I finished, a slight scowl appearing on my face.

"Here's a crazy thought, maybe he's just worried about you, Claudia," Erik replied sarcastically. "You have been a lot training these past two days, one would say too hard. You're not eating a lot, I noticed that you're up later than you usually are," he listed, ticking them off with his fingers. "Not to mention your temper has been shorter than usual," Erik remembered.

"I am not up late," I argued, knowing that the dark circles underneath my eyes I hid beneath my makeup showed all of the signs of restless night's sleep. "Nor have I been short of temper lately," I insisted, crossing my arms together.

"You cut your lights off at 11:00 pm on the dot every night. Recently, your lights have been on up until 1:00 am," Erik deadpanned, giving me a knowing look and my brow rose. "Yes, I've noticed that," he added, answering my silent question.

I really couldn't help myself from asking, "Oh, so you notice things about me?" I questioned grinning. "Because usually I have to tell you when you should look for something," I added, still grinning.

Erik rolled his eyes and laughed, "I notice things about everyone," he replied, and then looked at me slyly. "But I maybe paying some...extra attention to you,"

We proceeded down the walkway not sure where I wanted to go, but I wanted to be somewhere. I came across one of the many fountains in Central Park and lowered my hand into the water and ran the tips of my fingers over it. A thought crossed my mind and I lifted my hand, flicking water at Erik and drew back from the onslaught of the water droplets.

"You're such a child," Erik commented, his lips curving into a smile as he went to grab for my hand which I easily spun away from.

"I try to be," I smiled back.

I moved off the cement path and walked onto the seemingly endless lawn of the park. I made my way further onto the grass until we come near a thick grove of oak trees interspersed with some hearty pines. There were people spread out all over the field of all sorts, around the clearing's edges parents watched their children idly. Women read magazines or gossiped with one another while men ate their lunches or smoked amongst the trees, college students were laid on picnic blankets or throwing a football around.

Sticking my hand out I began to trace the rough bark of the tree next to me, beginning to walk in a circle. I closed my eyes and let my hand guide me around the tree, circling the tree twice in blissful content.

"May I ask what you're doing?" Erik asked, stopping me in my tracks and I opened my eyes, he was standing next to me, an amused expression painted on his face.

I glanced at him and smirked, "Whatever I want I suppose," I answered, continuing on my path around the tree.

Erik began to circle the tree as well only he went the opposite way, "And what is it that you want Miss Walker?" he inquired.

"I'm in need of some entertainment, just like you," I answered, turning around to meet Erik in front of the tree. He abruptly stopped once he saw me, our fingers brushed together momentarily before I leaned my back against the tree, looking at him with a mischievous grin.

"What are you about to do?"

"That man can't remember if it's his wife's birthday or their anniversary," I informed, still grinning.

I pointed to a bald middle-aged man who walked to the right of us with a confused, thoughtful look on his face.

Erik continued to look at me confused, "What?"

I slid my hands into my coat pockets jut as another gust of the autumn breeze swept past me, causing me to shiver and sigh contentedly as it ruffled my dark hair. I closed my eyes for a split second before opening them.

"That woman, over there? Found out that her boyfriend was cheating on her. Nice right hook, that one," I commented smirking, before shifting gaze away from the woman. "And that man..." I trailed off, as he happened to look back to where we were.

He was a tall, young man probably the same age I was, his blond hair was tousled most likely from the breeze which framed his blue eyes along with his square jaw. He shot me a wonky grin and I just smirked and wiggled my fingers giving him a small wave as I stared into his eyes, scrapping what I had originally planned to do and formulating a new way to have some fun.

"What are you doing?" Erik murmured from beside me.

"Just watch,"

Suddenly, the football he had been previously throwing came sailing back towards him and striking him on the back of the head. The man flinched and let out a groan of pain, rubbing the back of his head.

"Hey man, what the hell!" he exclaimed. His friend glanced over at me, seeing that I'm the reason why the blond-haired man didn't see the football coming. "Are you blind? Why didn't you hold the ball?" he asked angrily, storming over to his friend.

"Relax Aaron," the friend snickered. "Stop ogling at a girl and pay attention next time," he suggested, shrugging his shoulders.

"You've got a problem, Luke?" Aaron asked, getting up in his friend's face.

"No, I think you have a problem," Luke said, shoving Aaron away from him.

I turned my head to Erik, "Are you entertained?" I asked grinning proudly, and Erik let out a short laugh.

I suddenly became aware of another presence near me and my head turned and gazed up at Charles.

"There you two are, everyone was wondering where you had gone off to," Charles greeted, a relieved smile on his face. "What are you two doing?" he asked curiously, his eyes bouncing between Erik and I.

"Oh, we're just watching a bit of entertainment," I answered, a smirk on my face. "Right Erik?" I asked, glancing up at him.

"That would be correct," Erik confirmed.

Charles looked over at me and followed my gaze, watching the shoving match between the two men.

"Oh my God, Claudia please don't tell me this is your doing?" Charles questioned, his eyes back on me now.

I turned my head to Charles, his was mouth set in a firm grimace, "What can I say? We were bored," I explained nonchalantly, with a shrug.

"That's enough Claudia, you've had your fun now," Charles declared.

"Hold on Charles, I think she's onto something," Erik disagreed, raising his index finger up. "No one is even paying attention to them," Erik pointed out.

"I'll never not be amazed with my powers," I remarked, looking around at people going about their day not noticing the fight happening in front of their eyes. "A little inducement of calmness works wonders," I mused, folding my arms together.

Within a blink of the eye, Aaron swung his fist out and it connected with Luke's face, sending him to the ground.

"Hell of a right hook," I observed, as Aaron got on top of Luke to continue his pummeling.

"Claudia!"

"You know Erik, I once made a man punch himself," I informed, glancing over at him. "One night I had this drunk customer screaming in my face, and I grew angry enough that I imagined punching him, and he somehow punched himself," I recounted, thinking back to my diner job as a teenager.

"Impressive," Erik chuckled.

"You should see what happens when I sing, with my power," I boasted, walking ahead a little bit to get a closer look at the two men on the ground.

I went to take another step forward, but hand held me back, keeping a tight hold onto my wrist. I looked back to see who the culprit was just as the wind gently ruffled my hair as I met the stern stare of a dreamy blue-eyed familiar face.

"Claudia, stop it," Charles demanded, his voice dropping an octave.

Sighing, I finally gave in, "Fine," I agreed, turning my head back to the men and restored their peaceful state of mind.

Charles glanced at Erik and I for a moment, and we all share a look.

"Let's go," Charles ordered.

~~~x~~~

"Hey, do you know what's wrong with Charles?" Raven asked, as she pushed the barbell up and back onto the rack. "He's been upset ever since we came back from the park," she commented, maneuvering her way from under the bar and sitting up.

I paused mid crunch and relaxed, looking between my legs to look at Raven, "Yes," I answered, sitting up and hugging my knees. "I'm the reason he's upset," I confessed, and Raven's eyes widened. "I did something that made Charles quite upset," I explained, pushing away the fly-away hairs escaping my bun.

Raven crossed her arms and wandered over to me, "Claudia Walker making Charles Xavier mad, I never thought that I'd see the day," Raven quipped, before sticking her hand out to help me up.

"Neither did I," I stated, shaking my head.

"I wouldn't worry, Charles can't stay mad at you. He likes you too much," Raven reminded with a giggle, as I grabbed her hand and she pulled me up.

The sudden motion made me feel dizzy, I slowly walked over to the towel basket and plucked one out, "I don't know Raven, he seemed pretty upset," I doubted, dabbing the cloth against my face and closed my eyes trying to stabilize myself.

"What did you do?" she asked curiously.

Opening my eyes as my vision had stopped spinning, I removed the towel from my face, "I made these two men fight for entertainment," I explained, and Raven’s brows raised. "Erik and I wanted entertainment, we had gotten bored at the park," I continued, beginning to leave the room. "Do you know where I can Charles? I should probably go make things right," I added.

"In the library, most likely. Where else would he be?" Raven joked, and I nodded my head in agreement and laughed before exiting the gym.

I wrapped the towel around my neck and made way down the hall admiring the paintings on the wall as I headed to the library. The door to the library was cracked, slowly pushing it open revealed Charles standing in front of the window. I walked quietly into the room but he didn't turn around, he simply waited for whoever had entered to speak first. Out of the corner of Charles' eye he saw me move to stand beside him, still not saying a word.

At last, I broke the silence, "It's clear that you're upset with me," I began, searching his face for a reaction, but there wasn't one.

"How about disappointed?" he corrected, still looking out the window. I turned to look at him again and I was surprised to find his face free of anger, his face was calm. "You could have seriously injured those men Claudia. Worst, you could have killed them," Charles stated grimly, staring at me.

Backing away from where Charles stood, I sat down on top of the sofa, "Oh, come on, I wouldn't have let it get to that point," I answered, crossing my arms and returning Charles' stare.

He turned all the way around to face me, "It should have never happened in the first place!" Charles argued, slightly raising his voice. "Why on God's green earth would make those men fight?" he questioned, throwing his hands up.

"For fun, I suppose," I answered, with a slight shrug.

Charles scoffed, "That's your definition of fun? he asked incredulously.

"Fun is interpreted differently from person to person," I countered.

"No, I don't believe that's the whole story. I have never seen use your powers so irresponsibly. What is going on with you?" Charles asked again, walking towards me.

I pushed off the sofa, "You have been mother henning me for two days straight and I'm at my wits end here! I needed a release!" I snapped, spreading my arms out. "I'm not myself for one day, and for two days you have constantly been over my shoulder like I'm some fragile-" I continued pointing my finger, until another wave of dizziness me, this time stronger than before.

I felt myself falling as my vision slightly darkened, but a pair of arms caught me before I fell to the floor.

"Hey, I got you, I got you," Charles repeated softly, my head leaning against his chest. He lowered us to the ground slowly, "I'm going to pick you up, alright," he announced, before hooking his arms underneath my legs and slowly lifting me up. He walked over to the front of the sofa and placed me down onto the plush cushions. "Good thing I've been a mother hen, right?" Charles asked smiling, his hand brushing away a stray lock of hair from my face.

"I guess it paid off in the end," I conceded, smiling weakly as Charles sat on the edge of the sofa.

He placed the back of his hand against my forehead and frowned, "Claudia, you're burning up," he noted, removing his hand. "I knew you were pushing yourself too hard these past two days," he continued, placing each of his hands down on the cushions on either side of my waist. "Why didn't you tell me, love?" Charles asked quietly.

He was tense, his hands were clenched into fist by my side, I lifted my arm and soothingly rubbed his arm and felt the muscles in his arm slowly release some of their tension. His blue eyes met mine and he relaxed a little more.

"I thought I could push through it, I've done it before," I explained, giving him a small smile in an attempt to make him feel more at ease. "I really didn't want you to start smothering me anymore," I added, a short laugh erupting from me.

Charles shook his head gazing down at me with worried eyes, "Yes, and look where it's gotten you right now," he remarked, shaking his head once more. "You are so guarded at times Claudia, you've got to learn that not everyone wants to hurt you. I want to help you, I truly do. But I can't do anything unless you can accept that," Charles stated.

I was shocked by his bluntness and stared at him in shock, being quiet for several moments and looking away. When I didn't answer, Charles reached for my hand and held my hand in his.

"Do you trust me Claudia?" Charles asked softly.

It was such a simple question, yet I knew it meant a lot more to Charles...and myself. I stared up at him saw the genuine concern written across his features, and knew that what he told me was true.

"You're the first person I have trusted in years, Charles," I admitted softly.

The telepath gave me the most adorable, beautiful grin of relief, "I'm honored," Charles answered, and lifted my hand to his lips and kissed the palm of it. The simple gesture made my stomach flip. "Let's get you some rest, yeah?" he suggested, nodding his head toward the door.

Chapter Twelve: What Are These Feelings?

#x-men fanfiction #black fanfiction #x-men fanfic #charles xavier fanfiction #charles xavier x oc #black!oc #magneto x oc #charles xavier #erik lehnsherr #erik lehnsherr fanfiction #erik lehnsherr x oc #black!reader #x men fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #marvel fanfic #marvel imagine

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lukealvezhimboextraordinaire · 3 years

Note

Daphne+ simon

okay this took me way too long and i apologize! i could seem to find the right theme for them but must admit i had fun writing this one.

so here it goes, a little snippet into simon and daphne's life

As most things in Daphne’s life, it all started with a conversation with her siblings. While she didn’t exactly have many complaints regarding her life as a married woman, she had to admit that she missed the loud family at Bridgerton House. The multiple conversations going at once, the having to make sure Colin was the last one to get to the food or else no one after him would get to indulge in that dish, the ongoing antagonizing game between her youngest siblings, the yelling from across the table, the savage teasing paired with the sarcastic and always on point snarky comments coming from Francesca and Eloise’s witty remarks.

Speaking of Eloise, she was the sole culprit. Well, her and Hyacinth.

Ever since Amelia had been born she had been the centre of every conversation around the dinner table whenever the Bassets had enough energy to put on semi-decent clothes and drive all the way down to Violet’s house. Having a baby was exhausting. Daphne was slightly surprised she had never quite realized how much work babies were considering she had seen her parents go through the same four times. But Amelia was older enough for the hype to have died now and the Bridgerton brand of chaos was slowly returning to the table.

It had started innocently enough. A casual comment about how they barely saw Daphne anymore. Then someone had mentioned that she was probably too busy with the baby. And then it happened. Eloise had leaned back in her seat with a huff, shrugging one shoulder before very solemnly looking at her sister.

“Daphne is no longer fun.”

That seemed to catch everyone’s attention as all conversations died down and the room suddenly grew quiet. Eight pairs of heads turned to look at her. Daphne raised her eyes from her plate, stared at the eight pairs of wide, expectant eyes and pulled her shoulders up into a casual shrug. A dismissive wave of her hand before focusing back on her food sealed her half-decent performance at pretending to not be bothered by it.

“Hey leave Daff alone, she is busy!” Between mouthful and mouthful of food, Colin tried his best to defend his sister. He had a special bond with Daphne and had decided a long time ago that the only person allowed to tease her was, in fact, him.

“Busy being boring,” added one of the younger voices from across the table. Eloise chuckled, pleased, and high-fived the youngest of the clan.

Colin tsked his tongue. “At least she is doing something with her life!”

“I am eleven, Colin.” There was so much resignation in her voice that the room erupted in laughter.

“You are one to talk about wasting your life away,” Anthony mumbled pointedly, biting down a smile.

With an air of resignation to it, Colin let his fork fall against the wooden surface of the very old, very expensive family’s table. The action earned him a cautious look from his mother. “I have a career! I have fans!” At this point he was waving his hands in the air with indignation. “You just love to antagonize me!! Why are you not telling Benedict to go take a shower? He hasn’t showered in three days. He stinks!”

“Me and my body odor would very much like to be left out of this conversation, thank you.”

“Suspicious that you know that, Colin,” Francesca interjected, leaning on her elbows as she looked intently at him.

“Yeah, Colin. Do you keep track of our hygiene routines?” Unable to resist having a go at the easiest to rile up Bridgerton, Eloise joined in the fun.

“I bet that’s why he has so many journals....” Of course, Hyacinth had to get her revenge.

Colin’s ears turned red. He tossed his head to the side and then, in what could be described as the most immature move in men’s recent history, stuck his tongue out at his younger sisters while making funny faces.

The rest of the night went by without any other major conflicts. No one seemed to notice that Daphne had remained quiet for the rest of the evening. Or if they did, nobody dared point it out.

Simon, however, noticed.

He always paid attention to her. Even when seemingly he was entranced by some other activity, a part of him was always watching over her. Not in a creepy or possessive way, no. Just in a… in a need her around way. Daphne was his anchor. Her presence brought him a peace and calm he had never known were possible let alone imagine himself craving. She and Amelia were his whole world and it was only fair to take care of the two more important people in his life. He watched over her to make sure she was okay, to give back a bit of all she had given him.

Simon knew his wife. And knew that when she was silent for so long it could only mean a thing; something was bothering her.

“Princess.” His hand found her thigh and gave the softest of squeezes to it when she didn’t address him. Hopefully, it would make her turn to look at him. There was only so much he could do when his whole attention was supposed to be on the road.

“Huh?” Daphne seemed a little startled to hear his voice, as if she had just been shaken out of a reverie. On any other occasion, the look of bewilderment on her soft features would have made him chuckle. But the worry was starting to set at the bottom of his stomach.

“What is going on in that mind of yours?” His voice was cautious, soft, as if he was taking to a wounded animal.

Daphne pulled her shoulders up only to let them fall back into place. “Nothing.”

Simon opened his mouth to talk but Daphne beat him to it.

“Do you think we are boring?” The despair in her eyes made his stomach churn. He had to ponder it a second before giving her an answer.

“We are not boring,” he sent her a quick glance before returning to the road. “I know we have barely left the house since Amelia was born but that doesn’t make us boring.” It sounded bad even to his own ears. The groan his wife produced confirmed his suspicions. He chuckled. “Okay, maybe we are a bit boring.” She huffed and he laughed loud. Amelia protested in the back and he was reminded that his baby didn’t appreciate noise when she slept. “But we can change that, okay? Let’s go out this weekend. I’m sure your mom won’t mind keeping Lia for a couple hours.”

Daphne’s whole face lit up. “Really?”

He nodded. “Really.”

Violet was delighted to spend some quality alone time with her first grandbaby. But it turned out Daphne and Simon were a bit more hesitant about leaving their baby with her grandmother than either of them had anticipated. As excited as Simon had been all week about the prospect of going on a date with Daphne, as soon as he woke up that morning a strange pressure had settled in his chest. And as the time to leave came closer, it became more and more suffocating. His whole world had revolved around Amelia for months. She was his last thought before falling asleep and the first thought in the morning. He had taken paternity leave under the premise that Daphne needed help but the truth was that he could not fathom being away from his baby. And now that was exactly what he was about to do; willingly spend time away from his daughter.

“I don’t want to see you before midnight,” Violet warned, practically pushing them out of the door of their very own house, Amelia secluded to her hip, happily sucking on her thumb. “Amelia and I will be fine. I raised eight babies and most of them turned out fine.”

Simon sighed. His mother in law was right. They could do this. They had to do this. They needed time for themselves.

“Be good to your grandma, eh,” he placed a sweet kiss on the top of the baby’s head, taking in her scent before moving to kiss Violet on the cheek. “Thank you so much, Violet.” With his arm wrapped around his wife’s waist, Simon watched as she said her own goodbyes to their baby before gently dragging her away when it became evident they would miss their reservation if they didn’t get going soon.

Daphne’s eyes were clouded with tears by the time they got to their car.

“She is going to be just fine,” he tried to reassure her even if he himself wasn’t very convinced.

Daphne nodded, sniffing her nose loudly. “But will we?”

Simon didn’t have an answer for that but he really hoped it was a yes.

Ten minutes into their date and they had already called Violet twice. It was funny how they had become those parents. Especially Simon, who had never cared to picture himself as a dad. Prior to Daphne the life that waited ahead of him was pretty lonely. Hedonistic, yes, but lonely. Filled with parties and luxuries but always an empty house and cold bed awaiting him once his bacchanals were over. Ever since his wife had prompted him the question of if they were bored, Simon had not been able to stop thinking about it. A few months ago no one would have dared call Simon Basset any variant of the word boring and now all he wanted to do was spend his afternoons cuddling his wife and baby on their blue couch. The long nights out, getting drunk and taking strangers back home seemed like something a different man had enjoyed. The thrill he used to feel now turned to disbelief that he had convinced himself that life was enough for him. Now, he looked forward to bath time, to nap time, to any and all those special moments he planned on sharing with his baby. Because he was going to be present in every step. He refused to be half a dad. He refused to only be there for the good, easy parts of fatherhood and let Daphne bear with the weight of raising their children. And oddly enough, he was fine with that. He was content with his life, happy, enraptured. Even if that meant having to endure being called a bore by his new found family.

They called Violet one last time before being escorted to their table. She hung on them, threatening to turn her phone off if she received one more call before they were done with dessert. They looked at each other surprised and then laughed.

“This is weird,” Daphne commented, hiding her face behind the glass of wine for a brief moment. “We are here without Amelia and I miss her but I am also having fun.” As if suddenly a thought had struck her, she froze in place, furrowed her brows and frowned. “Are we terrible parents?”

Simon laughed, shaking his head. He reached for her hand across the table and laced their fingers. “We are great parents. Great parents also enjoy some adult fun.” That mischievous expression she had come to know so well framing his features.

Daphne sighed, feeling the thrill of the unknown starting to bubble up in her stomach. “Adult fun?”

Slowly, Simon nodded, eyes burning into hers.

“Wh-what are you thinking?”

He looked around them and then leaned forward, urging her to do the same. “Do you want to do something bold?”

Daphne nodded. Simon grinned.

“On the count of three, we run.”

Her eyes grew wide with shock but a devilish grin spread across her face. She nodded, eyes shining with excitement. The wine in her veins making her bold.

“One, two...three!!!”

Simon held his hand out to her grinning like an idiot, Daphne took it with a smile so big it rivaled the sun and together they stormed off the elegant restaurant, laughing and screaming, the manager hot on their heels. They ran and ran and ran until they were sure no one was chasing them. Breathless, they took refuge in a deserted alley.

“I can’t believe we just did that!”

Adrenaline rushing down their bodies, they looked at each other for a long second before their mouths crashed one against the other in a hungry kiss.

The next morning Simon dropped by the restaurant to pay for their food. He left a very generous tip.

Nine months later, they welcomed Belinda Basset into the world.

#bridgerton #mine #fics #simon x daphne #simon bassett #daphne bridgerton

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marginsofmarga · 3 years

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You are a Survivor: A Reminder to my Future Self

Dear Survivor,

On the 12th day of January 2000, a bouncing baby girl was born and was destined to meet the world. She was innocently ecstatic, bursting into tears as a newborn, and her parents couldn’t be more grateful to have her as their daughter. As she turned eighth months, her parents were in disbelief for she had to deal with a serious medical condition called intussusception — a form of bowel obstruction in which one segment of the intestine telescopes inside of another. She was in a 50-50 situation during that time and the doctors did not provide any assurance for her to live when she had to undergo a surgical operation.

The baby girl was you.

Yes, you. Luckily, here you are. You made it. Your life started after such a tragic incident. In an early age like that, you are already a survivor. What a precious privilege it is for you to be alive. You have a purpose and it is yet to be discovered.

But brace yourself because it’s going to be one heck of a roller coaster ride.

Anxiety and the ‘new normal’

Growing up, you are this girl who is full of fears. You are afraid of anything that might put you in danger and you are terrified of the uncertainty. Diving deeper, your big fear is not knowing what the future holds. And I‘m sure a lot of people can relate.

This fear was especially present when the COVID-19 pandemic began. The world seems to have ground to a halt because of the virus. As a fearful person, this is such a big deal. In retrospect, conditions created by the pandemic were taking a psychological toll. You were full of anxieties that you even experience panic attacks. Remember how difficult it was when you couldn’t sleep? And how overthinking consumed you for months? You were drowning in pain and fright and you never knew when it will be over. You were stressed about so many things: your health if ever you and your loved ones catch the virus, the mental agony it creates, your education when setbacks and transitions happened, the stress of what this year would be like, the postponed travels, and all the uncertainty. Anxiety bugged you for too long. It took all your strength.

Think about where you were earlier last year. You were in your second year in college. Just before the world slowed down, you were just a typical college student who tries her best to go through the day of university life. Back then, you were kilometers away from home which required you to rent a dormitory. On weekdays, you basically had a routine – waking up as the sun rises, getting ready for school, wearing your neatly ironed uniform and taking a short commute when going to school. Having meaningful lessons, small talks during the breaks with your friends, exchanging information with your professors, and learning day by day made the regular jiffs worth it. Later on, the pandemic took place. It felt as if the world stopped. Everything changed in a split second. Over the past few months, you’ve experienced an unprecedented shift in your way of life due to COVID-19. Coping up with the transition from face-to-face to online classes wasn’t easy.

The journey you’ve been through was on a rugged terrain and so full of ups and downs. You were stuck at home juggling chores, classes and your side hustle, content creation. It seemed so difficult to adjust; there was a change in the situation of class’ atmosphere, you struggled with time-management and self-motivation along the way, workload is way larger than regular classes, barriers occur such as bad internet service, power interruptions and so on. Not to mention creating content when you are not at your best. All these left you in a crucial spot.

Challenges as the virus came closer

It was in the month of March when you found out that your grandmother, 72 years old, tested positive for COVID-19. Much to your disbelief, you were scared to death. It felt as if a thorn got pricked in your heart. Your grandma means so much to you. She is such a remarkable woman. A heart like hers would give so unselfishly. She’s a combination of love and laughter. The thought of losing her is painful to handle.

Fortunately, she was asymptomatic. But we never knew what might happen in a snap.

The pandemic is impacting everyone. And your family wasn’t an exception. It meant making big changes in everyday routines and raised anxiety in every household member. The alarming numbers gave you a picture of how deadly the virus is. It’s killing people on a large scale. So much about the virus is out of your control. Not just the virus itself but all other aspects of life.

Time often makes you play the waiting game. It quickly passes by when you want it to stay still, but doesn’t seem to tick at all when you want it to hurry up. At this point, you are deeply hoping that the pandemic comes to an end.

Disastrous encounters

In the early morning of November 1, 2020, Super Typhoon Rolly (International name, Goni), made its first landfall in the Philippines in Bicol – with catastrophic winds of up to 280 kilometers per hour and torrential rainfall. Reading about the weather update, you began to ponder how tormenting it is to deal with such predicament: super typhoon in time of pandemic. That’s two disasters in a row.

Can you recall waking up to howling winds and heavy-pouring rains? Of course you could. It was almost seven o’clock in the morning. Windows were intensely rattling in the wind. Some were even shattering. You were in your room full of worries, wondering when the catastrophe will end as your door started to tremble caused by the blustery weather. You immediately got up and went to your parents’ room. Your little brothers were still asleep. Your mom was securing some of your belongings and your dad wasn’t there so you looked for him outside through peeking by the window. You spotted him taking his good ‘ole motorcycles out of the garage and transferring those in the front gate. As you saw that the flood started to rise, you ran into your room and packed all of your things in plastic bags. As you finish, you prepared for breakfast. There were drizzles from the kitchen windows due to the gushing rain. Picking up new door mats was your idea but just then, the flood water began to enter. You tried to mop it out at first until it became too much too handle. It was not just a wet floor anymore. You continued to put everything on high places of the house. You weren’t sure whether the flood is going to reach above the ankle as usual but as several minutes or so passed, the water started to reach the knees and outside the house, the water reached the thighs of an average person.

It was a great relief that you were living in a two-storey house, but the second floor was usually untouched and unoccupied, and at that exceptional moment, it was your only safe refuge. That isolated part of the house had to be cleaned first so you and your brothers had to wait sitting on the stairs for the meantime. Almost everything was a bit slippery and taking a few steps to the stairs, your mom accidentally slid and fell on her buttocks, leaving her semi-injured with a small wound on the heel. Aching in pain, there she was as your anxiety began to escalate with everything that was happening.

It was past 12 o’clock during noon as the rain lie low and the strong winds stopped. Meanwhile, flood water kept entering the house. It even reached your bed. The unprecedented intensity of the calamity made the water rise so high. Other appliances were soaked in flood water. You all tried to secure everything in the house, but the sight of flood-affected area was horrible.

It seemed such a cruel irony that while battling the pandemic, a disaster as strong as Rolly made repercussions to your family and other families. It was such a struggle to recover from the losses. Some appliances were broken and your dad’s piggery was devastated. The agricultural damage it also brought to the small rice field your dad was handling affected your finances. The calamity knocked out mobile phone services, uprooted trees and destroyed critical infrastructures. The neighboring towns, particularly those which are near Mayon Volcano were engulfed in floodwater and volcanic mudflows. How awful! It was a twofold challenge on your concern. You badly want to help but you’re still a jobless student.

Just days after the onslaught of Typhoon Rolly, Typhoon Ulysses roughly crossed the same track and made landfall on November 11. Disaster after disaster. Destruction after destruction – in the midst of a pandemic. It was unbelievable, it was beyond imagination, and all at the same time, dreadful.

Multiple factors contributed to this turnabout. Most of the time, caused by circumstances beyond anybody’s control.

The rise after the fall

When you were in despair, you prayed everyday and kept your faith intact hoping and believing that everything’s going to be all right. You stayed strong when you are at your weakest and you let God move in His mysterious ways. Tomorrow awaits. There is hope. The anxieties were no longer haunting you. You realized that you are doing the best you can, you are letting go of the things you cannot control and you start to focus on things that actually matter. You learned to embrace the uncertainty by accompanying it with faith. Your greatest fears especially the consequences of this pandemic took all your strength but there was redemption. It may be chaotic as it seems but you managed to make it through. The girl who was full of fears is now full of strength.

You survived your online classes, finished the whole semester alongside content creation with new projects coming in, and you adapted to a new reality. The monstrous and unimaginable situation brought by the virus was difficult to deal with but you still took control of what you can actually muster. You learned to manage your time wisely. You created a workspace and followed a study schedule. You made learning a joy. You made content creation a passion. You tried your best in keeping your spirits up for the sake of surpassing all of the hardships.

One afternoon, while you were running errands with your mom, a notification popped. You were informed by a block mate that you are a dean’s lister. Wow. It made your parents proud. You were bursting in bliss. It was totally fulfilling. Memories suddenly flashed back. You remember all the challenges you faced, the hardwork you made and the efforts you poured bore an academic achievement in the midst of the pandemic. It all paid off.

Look at your grandmother. She’s doing well, healthy and is now back to her normal routine. You also get to spend more time with her now. A new tradition for the family was made. Every month, there is a “family day” where joyful memories are created. Being with your family is a blessing, take note of that. Don’t be so busy watching out for what’s ahead of you but rather, enjoy where you are. Never miss any opportunity to spend time with your loved ones.

When two super typhoons as powerful as Rolly and Ulysses both left trails of destruction in your region, it terribly affected many families and your family wasn’t an exception. It struck as the Philippines continues to battle the pandemic. Despite it all, your family recovered. After the previous crops have been ravaged by the merciless storms, the succeeding harvest was a bounty.

Seeing how the super typhoons affected millions of people in eight regions, it made your heart shatter. There was something in you that wanted to lend a helping hand not only to your family but to the community as well. Good thing, an opportunity came. You were asked to be the chairperson in your town for a relief operation called Barya Ni Juan, a movement made by Discover MNL in collaboration with Bicol Bloggers and other Bicolano brands, which provided aid for 1,000 families in 10 Bicolano communities that were gravely affected by Typhoon Rolly and Ulysses. Of course, you accepted the offer without thinking twice. With the help of your friends, you managed to accomplish the mission by distributing 500 peso-worth each relief pack to 100 homes. It may be a small act of kindness but you saw smiles on many faces. It felt gratifying. The greater your storm, the brighter your rainbow.

What a life! You’ve learned that things don’t always turn out the way you planned or the way you think they should. You’ve learned that you can turn pain into power and you can overcome anything that was meant to destroy you. You’ve become patient with yourself and your growth, knowing that good things take time. You fell so many times but you were able to get back up.

Be proud of how far you’ve come – the silent battles you fought, the adversities you faced, the moments you had to wipe your own tears and pat yourself on the back. You’ve gone through the dark side of life but you have gained strength, courage and confidence like no other.

Always remind yourself these:

“I surpassed many challenges.” “I am capable of everything I set my mind into.” “I take every setback and use it to my advantage.”

One day, you’ll look back and you’ll tell yourself you are indeed a survivor.

With love and light, A stronger version of yourself

_______________________________________________________________________

This story is an entry to ComCo Southeast Asia’s “Write to Ignite Blogging Project Season 2: Dear Survivor”. The initiative continues to respond to the need of our times, as every story comes a long way during this period of crisis. The initiative aims to pull and collate powerful stories from the Philippine blogging communities to inspire the nation to rise and move forward amidst the difficult situation. The “Write to Ignite Blogging Project” Season 2 is made possible by ComCo Southeast Asia, with Eastern Communications and Jobstreet as co-presenters, with AirAsia and Xiaomi as major sponsors, and with Teleperformance as sponsor.

#survivor #pandemic #writing #inspire #tumblr #inspiration #letter

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hopetofantasy · 3 years

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‘HUMO’s big youth survey - Politics, society and religion’ - With Nora Dari (part 1)

- TW: corona pandemic, mental health, sickness, religion, islamophobia, racism, cancel culture -

Who better to test out the results of HUMO’s brand new ‘youth survey’ than a trio of three young gods? Bouba Kalala (23) made the switch between ‘Studio Brussel’ and the social media-team of the ‘SP.A’ - sorry, ‘Vooruit’. Céleste Cockmartin (21), daughter of sexologist and politician Goedele Liekens, just started her third year of neuropsychology in Maastricht. Nora Dari (19) portrays the beautiful Yasmina in the wildly popular ‘wtFOCK’. ‘If we don’t rise up to the streets, a lot of things will remain the same.’

- Note from hopetofantasy: ‘SP.A’, soon to be rebranded as ‘Vooruit’, is a social democratic political party -

For the past quarter of the century, HUMO surveyed every new batch of youngsters, but never before did we had to include a pandemic in our questionnaire. It’s a first! And even though the youth isn’t the most popular target of the virus, they’ll emerge from the corona crisis with scars on them too.

Half of young people thinks life will never return to what it was before. The girls are even more pessimistic than the boys. Nora Dari: “I wouldn’t call us pessimistic: we weren’t on the right track at all. This is one big wake-up call. I’ve never felt as alone yet together as during lockdown. On social media, we were already used to our own bubble. Then suddenly, all these bubbles began to look the same and everyone kept talking about the same thing.”

Bouba Kalala: “For one moment, the crisis showed us how good the world could be. I even started to cry at the drone images of VTM. I think we’ll bring that unity with us to the post-corona era.” Nora Dari: “When my mom stepped on the bus with her hijab before this, she would have gotten the side-eye. Now people scowl at those without mouth-masks. Weird how fast everything can change.” Bouba Kalala: “My grandpa experienced the war, we lived through a pandemic. Shit happens. When the Germans threw bombs on England, everyone re-emerged after the bombardments, re-opened their shops and even made jokes about it - ‘Everything at explosive prices!’. That’s what we should do now: we have to take corona seriously and follow the measures, but being scared won’t help us more forward.”

Do young people have to give up too much, because of the corona crisis? Almost one out of three think they do. Céleste Cockmartin: “I don’t have the feeling I’m giving up on a lot. But young people really do try and avoid infecting the elderly. When I’m in Maastricht and only see my peers for weeks at a time, then I’ll be less restrained. But when visiting my parents, I’m very careful. It’s just a matter of not being selfish. What’s so difficult about wearing a mask and disinfecting your hands?” Nora Dari: “Quite a lot of people don’t believe in masks.” Bouba Kalala: “Really? I don’t know anyone who dismisses the rules and says: ‘I’m going to go anywhere and do what I want.’ But those that do, get a story in the news. As if every young person doesn’t give a fuck.” You do? Bouba Kalala: “I have to: my grandpa who’s 84, is staying with us. I did sin once, though. Going to a friend’s house for some drinks, other friends come over and suddenly you’re with ten people.” Nora Dari: “I’ve had corona and I was scared to death that I’d infect my parents. So I locked myself up in my bedroom for two weeks.” Céleste Cockmartin: “Seriously? I wouldn't be able to handle it mentally if I couldn't go out.” Nora Dari: “But I was incredibly sick, so the solitary confinement didn’t bother me. I’ve binged all there was to binge on Netflix.” Bouba Kalala: “And your sense of smell and taste?” Nora Dari: “Still gone! I can’t taste anything. Us, Moroccans, drink mint tea every day. Now, a month later, it still tastes like water.” Did the virus change you? Nora Dari: “I’m pretty religious. Corona has given me even more the understanding that everything is in God’s hands.” Faith is on the rise again: the number of young people claiming they’re atheist or non-religious declined from 50 to 41 percent. Céleste Cockmartin: “Everyone is looking for meaning and answers. I search these answers in science.” Bouba Kalala: “For me, science and God have the same worth. Believers can’t prove there is something, but science can’t disprove it either.” You believe there’s something? Bouba Kalala: “Yes, but what? I believe in the universe, the force of attraction, the power of positive thinking... I don’t want to sound too much like a hippie, but I also believe in the paranormal and UFOs. (*Céleste and Nora laugh out loud*) What? UFOs are my hobby. Even the American army admits there is something, so there must be something (*laughs*).” Nora Dari: “I often hear it: young people believe in something, but they don’t know (yet) in what they believe.” It’s all clear to you. Nora Dari: “Yes. I’m lucky to be born in a muslim family, but even then, there’s a moment where you think: is this the religion that really defines me? I’ve done research and began reading books, but my heart truly connected with the Islam. It feels like true love.” Céleste Cockmartin: “I can be jealous about that. I think it’s a shame sometimes, that I don’t have that faith. It seems to be a good solace during the hard times. For a lot of people, faith isn’t much more than a form of meditation.” Bouba Kalala: “The grandma from a friend of mine passed away recently. I found it hard to comfort her. I don’t have that issue with my Moroccan or Turkish friends, because we know she’s with God. The idea that she isn’t gone, brings peace.” In 2015, when we were still discussing the imminent terror attacks, 9 percent called themselves muslim. Now it’s 17 percent. Nora Dari: “I think it’s related to the terrorists. Because of them, muslims and non-muslims started asking questions about Islam. People studied the religion and concluded that it’s actually really beautiful.” When you were 13, you wore a hijab for a while. Nora Dari: “As a young girl, I often visited the community center in Winterslag. It closed down by the time I went to high school. From a tiny school with only two Belgians without an immigration background, to a school with a handful of muslims. Suddenly the world seemed bigger. I needed something familiar, something I could join and where I felt included. That was the Islam. After two years, I realized that my choice to wear the hijab, was too hasty. I wore it so I wouldn’t feel alone, but when I got older, I understood: I’m not alone. With or without hijab, God’s always with me.” Will you wear it again some day? Nora Dari: “I hope so. If someone asks me why I don’t wear it, I don’t have an excuse. It’s something so beautiful. Yet, right now, it doesn’t feel as if it’s something I need to do.” Do you feel, as a muslim, that you’re less of a target than a few years ago? Nora Dari: “Yes. That’s connected with the trend of being woke, being aware of everything and refusing to think anything is bad. Due to this, a lot of youngsters are becoming less critical. Which is a shame.” And here I thought, young people were only positive about being woke? Nora Dari: “But what is the meaning of ‘being woke’?” I was hoping you could tell me. Nora Dari: “No one knows. Everyone pretends to know (*laughs*).” Bouba Kalala: “That’s being woke, I think: not knowing everything, stop pretending like you have all the answers.” Nora Dari: “You know what bothers me? That we live in such a cancel culture. One bad tweet and you’re cancelled for life. There’s nothing woke about that?” Bouba Kalala: “Without social media, we wouldn’t have cancel culture: every brain fart continues to exist on the internet. Years later, someone will dig up a wrong statement and use it to take you down.” Nora Dari: “Young people would do well, if they followed the people they don’t agree with on social media.” Bouba Kalala: “Yes!” Nora Dari: “If I'd follow Dries Van Langenhove (= extreme right politician / activist) tomorrow, my followers would throw a fit: ‘Do you agree with him?’ No, the exact opposite! But how can I understand how he thinks, if I don’t follow him? If I only followed people whom I agree with, I’ll get tangled up into my own truths. The world doesn’t stop with my own Insta page.” Céleste Cockmartin: “That’s being woke: talking with your opponents. I once started a conversation with Dries Van Langenhove. I ran into him in Ghent, at the time of the ‘Schild & Vrienden’ TV report. I had to know: what’s the deal with that group? Unfortunately the conversation wasn’t very clear - it was the nightlife neighborhood. But I’ll stick with my statement: start a conversation with dissendents.” And the youth of today doesn’t do that? Nora Dari: “Not at all. We rather cancel each other.” Bouba Kalala: “I already know that I’ll get racist bullshit hurled at me after this interview. I've learned not to care. Hate posts are good for my algorithm.” You don’t reply to them? Bouba Kalala: “I do, every time. One time, I argued for hours with someone who sent a racist tweet. I kept going: ‘Why do you say that, Arno? Do you realize this hurts?’. In the end, he even thanked me. I went to my mom, showed her the conversation and we’ve high-fived each other. I know that Arno will vote for Vlaams Belang (= extreme right political party) again, but he did say ‘thank you’, while he started with that sick tweet.”

#wtfock #wtfam #part 1 of ...#because my Tumblr keeps glitching #I'm dropping part one already #nora dari

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sxveme-2 · 3 years

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blueberry pancakes // bucky barnes

MASTERLIST

Description: A single mother. Juggling being a mom, a full time pediatrician, and a difficult ex who believed now would be the best time to finally be a father. A soldier ripped out of time. Ex-assassin turned superhero. Learning how to balance a new domestic life with handling demons of his past, while facing the trials of the future. a love story began over something as simple as chocolate chip pancakes with hidden blueberries.

Disclaimer: I do not own any original Marvel characters! All canon plots and canon characters belong to Marvel Comics and Marvel Studios. This is an original work. You may not publish it anywhere else

Status: Edited

Note: Takes place after endgame. I have elected to ignore Tony's death and Steve's leaving. Did not happen. Quick Reminder! My works are only published here, AO3 and on Wattpad, thank you.

Chapter Two: The One With the Fanboy

Warnings: N/A

Word Count: 1854

Now lets do a quick background explanation of a pretty key player in this love story. Hunter Osborne-Harvey. The child of Scott and Lily. He was created out of what was believed to have been love. That's what Lily had believed at least. When Lily had found out she was pregnant, while juggling a relationship as well as working through medical school, she did not believe it at first. She had taken around eight pregnancy tests before she eventually ended up at the doctor's office...confirming her biggest fear.

She was expecting.

Scott proposed to Lily shortly after she had broken the news to him. Lily, who had been caught off guard, had accepted with no hesitation. The two had only been together for around a year and a half, and that really was not enough time for two people to decide whether or not they would settle down for the rest of their lives together. Not to mention, the two together had no money. Well...that was what she thought. Turns out, Scott's family had a rainy day fund for him, and the two seemed to be well taken care of.

Where the money came from? Lily was never sure. She supposed his family was most likely saving up for him to go to an ivy league school, but only had to pay for a simple engineering course instead. Leading their son into a successful career. So when Scott began to work full time, he seemed to be home even less. It was shortly after Hunter was born, when things began to really go sour between the two.

After work, Scott would typically go out with his buddies and come home piss drunk to struggling med student, Lily, rocking a fussy Hunter in her arms while studying for a large test the next day. Instead of offering help, he would stumble off to bed and pass out instantly. Leaving Lily to rely on her advanced mind to get her through med school. And somehow, she did it, with hard work, tears, and many nights sleeping at Genevieve's away from Scott.

As Hunter grew up, he seemed to face a few...development issues. He rarely spoke, and could be found sitting alone in his room staring out the window, a lost look in his deep brown eyes. Scott and Lily fought night after night over this particular issue, and a few dozen others. This carried on for seven years of Hunter's life. He would lay awake at night and listen to the insults that were hurled back and forth. His father would end up storming out of their small one story home, which cued a string of sobs from his mothers lips. On these nights, Hunter would crawl into bed with Lily and hold his broken mom close as she slept.

It was later uncovered that Hunter's IQ was off the charts, just like his mothers. Doctors suggested advanced work and study methods. This led into some of the most aggressive fights. Lily wanted her son to be taught as a regular kid, instead of being held at a higher level like she was. Constantly being singled out and then ridiculed if she got anything wrong. Scott, however, believed Hunter should be taught at an advanced rate, so in the future he can be worth billions.

That night got particularly heated, and Aunt Gen had to come and pick him up to stay at her apartment above her cafe. They stayed up all night and watched movies before falling asleep on the couch. The following day, his Grandpa and Grandma picked him up and said he'd be staying with them for a bit.

A week later, he was informed of his parents' separation.

And now, he lived happily with his mother 90% of the time, dreading the weekends he'd have to be at his fathers with his dad's new wife and baby girl. He was ignored most of the time, being left to fend for himself as Mary, his step-mom, and his father would go out to friends' homes. He had to care for Leila, his half-sister, with a useless babysitter.

Anytime he brought up a change of custody, Lily would shut the conversation down. Though she suffered all those years with scott, the blonde knew that he loved hunter. Even if he did not have a very good way of showing it. She knew Hunter would rather be home with her, grabbing breakfast at Aunt Gen's, ordering pizza for dinner while watching movies and shows. Playing in the backyard with joey.

Sleeping in Lily's bed when he heard her crying at night.

-----

"Who's here?" Lily wondered aloud as she walked to her and Hunter's usual spot near the kitchen at a booth.

"Okay, Hunter, if I tell you, you have to swear not to go all superhero nerd on me okay?" Genevieve grinned while sliding into the booth next to the young boy, "I know your whole obsession with these righteous men and women." With a reassuring nod from the quiet boy, Lily watched as Gen began, "The one and only Captain America is here. With his two best confidants, Falcon and Winter Soldier."

Lily's eyes immediately turned towards her son. She couldn't help but grin widely at the bright and beaming smile that lit up his face after Gen broke the news. His chocolate brown eyes sparkled as the fanboy in him boiled to the brim. But, he had promised to keep his composure. Instead, Lily watched as he pursed his lips and his grin grew bigger.

"Where are they sitting?" he managed out, attempting to take deep breaths to relax an overwhelming amount of adrenaline and nerves dancing through his body.

Gen nodded her head gently towards her left side, causing both mother and son to glance slyly to where the few people in the cafe seemed to be also sneaking glances of. And sure as shit, there the three sat. Chatting lowly over coffee and pastries. Glancing back towards her son, Lily could see the excitement growing more and more the longer he looked at his heroes. All over his room, posters of Captain America, Iron Man, Black Panther, etc, littered the walls. Action figures and collectibles stacked up on his shelves. Hardcore fanboy. It was endearing to see.

"Mom! Could I go ask for an autograph?" Hunter pleaded as he looked over at his mom and aunt, who exchanged weary looks. The two shared that telepathic conversation that all best friends can do, before turning towards the boy sat opposite of them.

"Go ahead kiddo. But do not make a scene." Lily started with a gentle smile, leaning forward with her pointer finger extended. The blonde boy wrapped his pointer finger around his mothers before sliding out of the booth and towards the men he idolized, "We just made a huge mistake, didn't we?"

"Nope. You did. He will never shut up ever again," Gen chuckled while sliding out of the booth, "usual order I'm guessing? Secret blueberry pancakes for Hunter and croissant with icing sugar for you?"

"You know me so well, and I hope he doesn't shut up. It'd be nice to hear him talk from time to time." Lily chuckled as a waitress poured her coffee into a mug.

Bringing the hot liquid to her lips, Lily’s eyes turned to glance at the group her son just went to talk to. They all had sideways smiles on as they laughed at something said. Whether it be from her son or one of them. The heartwarming smile that Lily seemed to be known for stretched across her lips as she sipped the dark liquid in the white mug she held. All of the sudden, Hunter turned and pointed back towards their table, the three men's eyes following his arm. They all raised a hand and gave a gentle wave.

This in turn, caused Lily to basically spit out her coffee. Or more so...actually spit out her coffee.

One of the men, the one she recognized as the Falcon, noticed the spillage and stood from his seat, making his way over and sliding into the booth across from the young girl. Lily's eyes blew wide as her cheeks flushed a bright red against her fair skin.

"Steve has a tendency of making women spit out their drinks, something to do with his charm or something," the dark skinned man chuckled as he cleaned the coffee off the table, "Sam Wilson. And I'm guessing you know the blonde. and the rugged robocop would be Bucky Barnes."

Bucky Barnes. Lily's eyes slid from the coffee in front of her to the other two men still putting up with her obsessed son. She seemed to catch the gaze of the long haired one, the superhero mentioned prior. Right as they locked eyes, both turned away. Lily's cheeks only heated up more as she cleared her throat.

Like said before, she wasn’t much of a talker.

"Sorry about my son, he loves you all a lot," Lily said, her voice a mere murmur as held the mug up to her lips, "Oh and uh...I'm Lily. Lily Osborne."

Sam seemed almost...shocked? by the words that left the blondes lips. As though he didn't believe a part of what she had said. Was she known among the superheroes or something? Maybe her fathers botanist studies? Or the fact a young boy was in love with superheroes? But they all seemed pretty unlikely. Most young kids liked superheroes. Especially those who fit the same archetype as Hunter.

"There is no way in hell you're that young kid's mom. You're way too young." Sam laughed softly, shaking his head.

So that was why he didn't believe her. Most people have that assumption. That they were brother and sister rather than mother and son. Lily was only thirty three, and had a youthful glow to her it seemed. Though whenever she looked in the mirror, all she saw was all of those years of hard work and sadness. The weight of being a single mother weighing down the under eye skin that was now seemingly bruised. The dull aura of her busy work schedule and stress with handling a fairly difficult ex-husband.

"Yeah, he's my son. Look's more like me than his father, luckily." Lily laughed softly, nibbling at her lips. A nervous habit. Her mother used to scold her on the daily for it, saying that the precious skin on her lips was for the kiss of someone she loved, not to be pulled open by anxiety.

"Well he's a sweet kid-” Sam stated before being interrupted by Steve and Bucky calling him, as they headed towards the door, "It was nice meeting you Lily. You've got a good kid on your hands," he continued, writing down an address and number on a napkin, "Swing him by the compound one day. I'll give him a tour."

Lily gave a simple nod goodbye as she slid the napkin into her purse, grinning as her beaming son returned to their booth, looking more vibrant than ever. He began to rave about how awesome Captain America was and how quiet the other guy was. Bucky, right. Gen slid their food down in front of them before sending lily a quick wink.

"Aunt Gen these are blueberry!"

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x female oc #female oc #oc tag #original character #marvel #marvel fanfiction #the winter solider fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #james buchanan barnes #the avengers #tfatws #single mom #sebastian stan #fluffy #romance #comedy

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gra-sonas · 4 years

Text

I didn’t mean to be “silent”, this just took me much longer to write than I had planned.

First of all, I’d like to point you in the direction of a very good post @adiwriting posted a couple of days ago, that sums things up in a very articulate way, you can find it HERE.

~*~

In short: in his most recent interview with the Pretty Little Wine Moms Podcast, Tyler - who’s playing a character who’s half Native American - revealed, that he did a DNA test with a company called 23AndMe during the filming of season 1 of Roswell, New Mexico, and he test didn’t detect Native American ancestry, even though his grandmother had told him in 2010, that his paternal grandfather Harold's great grandmother was Cherokee Indian.

Below the cut is a transcript of that part of the interview, my opinion on this whole thing, and I answered a couple of asks I got about it. This is a VERY long post.

I’ve already watched the video of the interview, and it shows, that they edited the interview quite heavily. There are several cuts throughout the episode, and some things that can be heard in the audio version, didn’t make it into the video either.

TRANSCRIPT [I didn’t transcribe every laugh or random words, but I’ve tried my best to make it as accurate as possible]

LESLEY: Did you audition for any of the other roles on PLL?

TYLER: No, Caleb came in halfway through season one. I remember, it was supposed to be a 4-episode stint, a guest starring role. What’s funny though, I lived right by Warner Brothers [studios], so I would drive […] past Warner Brothers and there was a bill board of Pretty Little Liars before it came out and I was like “I could probably be on a show like that.” So, anyway, I auditioned for Caleb, yeah. I never read for… […] No, I didn’t get the role at first because they were like “we really think he needs to be like really ethnic. We need some ethnic diversity. And I was like—

LESLEY: What are you? You’re like “hello”! Part Native American, i mean.

TYLER: Well, no, I’m actually not. I’m actually not, I found out.

HOLLY: Whaaaat? Yes, you are. We did talk about this.

NIA: I thought you were.

HOLLY: We talked about this on set.

TYLER: Do you know when I found out that I wasn’t is when I got Roswell, my character was also supposed to be Native American, half Native American. And I was like “great”, because the pool was like so small. You know, so this is great, you know. I’m shooting season one of the show and do a 23AndMe [DNA test] and I have literally not even 0.1 % Native American.

HOLLY: That can’t be possible.

NIA: No, no, no, no, let me explain how that works. That’s not right.

HOLLY: Nia has some things to tell you.

NIA: The information - I know these things, every nationality in me—

TYLER: Okay, tell me.

NIA: 23AndMe is pulling from— if you do 23AndMe and then you do… what’s the other one—

LESLEY: AncestryCOM

HOLLY: AncestryCOM

NIA: —they’ll come up different. And the reason they’ll come up different from each other is, they’re pulling from the people they already have in their database. So, if there’s not very many Native American people doing 23AndM—

HOLLY: Which there isn’t.

NIA: —it’s not gonna show up.

TYLER: Oh god.

NIA: Yeah.

[INFO: There’s a clear CUT at this point before the interview continues, they even cut Tyler’s “Oh god” you can hear in the audio from the video. So they must’ve talked about this some more before the official version of the interview continues.]

TYLER: Okay, so this is what happened, going back [to being cast as Caleb]. They said “thank you so much for the read” and I really thought I was gonna get it. Because Gayle Pillsbury [PLL casting director] - I’d never even read for her before - and I went in and auditioned, and her response was literally everything you want in an audition. She like lost her fucking mind and was like “where did you come from?”, you know, that sort of thing. I mean, I’m a TERRIBLE auditioner and I get so unbelievably nervous, so for that to be the response—

LESLEY: Wow.

TYLER: So that response… I was like “oh my gosh”. And you even audition and you’re like “I booked it. I booked it!”, you know what I mean? Even though it’s not up to her, you know, but anyway. Then they told me “thank you so much for the read, it was so good, but we want more ethnic diversity”. They came back to me, I don’t know, three weeks later? And they were like “What is your background?” And I was like “I don’t even know.” I called my dad, he tells me “I don’t even know.” He’s like “Call grandma.”. I call my grandma, she tells me her side and then… My dad’s dad passed away before I was born, I don’t know his side of the family at all. So my grandmother talks about his side of the family and says “You know—“ - it was Harold, Harold was my grandfather’s name - —“Harold’s great grandmother was Cherokee Indian. And I was like “Really?” I was like “This is good!”

WINE MOMS, LAUGHING: “This is good!”

TYLER: So, then I told casting “I’m Native American.” And so they thought it was enough to cast me as, you know, ‘ethnically ambiguous’ or whatever.

[END TRANSCRIPT]

~*~

I’m not an expert on DNA tests. Nia’s comment that tests from different companies come back with different results bc they pull their data from different gene pools makes sense, but I can’t verify whether that's actually the case. Neither do I know whether her claim that 23AndMe pool lacks Native samples for reference is correct.

If it is, it would mean that 23AndMe DNA tests in general wouldn’t be able to detect Native ancestry in any sample. Maybe a test with a different company would come up with a different result, in any case, it would be a very small percentage, given how many generations are between Tyler and his Native ancestor.

The result of the test is only one piece of the puzzle tho, and not the relevant one.

The question isn’t whether the result indicates that what Tyler’s grandma told him is false. The question is, if one Native ancestor 5 generations back and no tribal affiliation of any kind entitle Tyler to play POC characters.

The answer is a clear no, and yet he’s been cast as non-white characters (and in one case as an explicitly Native character) twice in his life.

That’s unfortunate at best, and ignorant at worst.

~*~

Tyler auditioned for PLL in 2010 when he was 23, turning 24 that year. Initially he didn’t get the role bc they wanted someone “ethnic”. They called him 3 weeks (!) after the initial rejection and asked about his background, and by talking to his grandma, he found out about this Native ancestor.

2010 was a mere decade ago, but it was also a different time. Discussions about diversity and representation on screen, the question whether it’s okay for male actors to play trans women or if shows should pass the Bechdel test were all topics that weren’t discussed as “aggressively (and I mean that in a very positive way, hammer it home that all these things matter!) as they are discussed today, and structures in the TV and movie industry ignored most of it anyway (still do way too often, lbr).

Looking back, it’s easy to condemn what happened as vigorously as we would condemn it if it happened today, but applying today’s standards to 2010 is still a bit unfair. (I’m not saying that what happened is okay, just that back then the level of awareness for it to be wrong wasn’t the same as it is today).

Sure enough ABC execs were all too happy to accept that minimal partial Native ancestry as “enough” to cast him, probably also because Tyler looked “ethnically ambiguous” to them, whatever that means. (Holly also mentioned that they talked about Tyler’s Native ancestry on the set of PLL, and apparently not a single person pointed out that maybe it was a questionable decision...).

Tyler was trying to get his career started back then, and an opportunity like PLL would be any young actor’s dream. When they told him “you’re ethnic enough, you’ve got the job”, he lacked the tools and the awareness to question their decision, neither did anyone ever question Tyler’s decision to accept the role. It was considered to be “okay” by all sides. Which is a systemic problem.

As far as I know, Caleb’s supposed “ethnically diverse” background was never explored on PLL, so they were just happy he looked “ethnic" but never gave a fuck about actual representation. Welcome to the club of most TV shows ever made. Even in 2020, too many shows and movies still try to pull that shit. The difference is, that nowadays they are called out, and people speak up.

~*~

Fast forward to 2017 when Tyler got the script for Roswell. 7 years of him believing that this partial Native ancestry made him part Native, not half like Alex Manes, but it probably felt like it was “enough” - it had been enough for PLL after all.

He got cast because he’s a great actor, but also because he supposedly had the required ethnic background. This is also on the studio tbh. I assume he was asked about his background and he must’ve told them the same story (since he didn’t have a DNA test he could’ve shown them), and for The CW “one Cherokee Indian ancestor 5 generations back” was also “Native enough”...

~*~

It’s quite a bit of a mess tbh. Fans have been hit rather hard by this revelation, some are angry, some are disappointed, some feel uncomfortable, some probably don’t know whether how they feel is how they should feel after applying all our new-found 2020 ~wisdom and awareness to the situation.

Opinions on the matter differ. Vastly in some cases. Some people feel betrayed, some have “cancelled” Tyler, for others it’s not ideal but also not that big of a deal. It’s a mixed bag, really.

As for me: 2010 Tyler gets a pass from me. It was a “different time” with different industry rules in place, and ABC’s higher ups, who should’ve known and done better, didn’t. Neither did anyone in casting, nor his management, colleagues, or anyone in his personal life. And he clearly lacked the experience and awareness to question the decision, or himself for accepting it because it never was questioned! Not even in the years following.

2017 Tyler only gets a partial pass. 2017 wasn’t 2020 and too many things were still not all that different from 2010. He’d been on a show for 7 years where this partial Native ancestry was “enough”. Hence he probably felt like auditioning for the role of Alex was okay, and everyone involved in the casting process thought so, too.

He never pretended to be Native American to get the role, he never pulled a Scarlett Johansson. However... he probably should’ve questioned a bit harder whether a Native ancestor 5 generations back makes him “Native enough” to play a (half) Native character, or any kind of POC character for that matter.

So yeah, definitely putting some blame on him for the lack of awareness, but I’m also side-eying The CW and whoever was involved in the decision making.

~*~

What I hope for and expect fromTyler now and in the future is, that he won’t ever allow to be cast as any kind of “ethnic” character ever again.

He’s worked hard and has very much earned the career he’s made. He’s an amazing actor, but the circumstances that gave him the opportunity to have that career are based on racist structures in the TV and movie industry, and he directly profited from a system, that cast him - for all we know a white man - as a man of color. Twice.

Imo Tyler’s well aware of these things now. 2020 in particular should’ve been a pretty good eye-opener. It’s good that he has someone like Jeanine to look up to and learn from (not her job to teach him or take him by the hand or anything, but I think she’s a great example of someone who’s already made a name of herself, and uses her influence to help others, and the way she talks about diversity and elevating marginalized voices is very powerful), and I hope that in the future he’ll use is voice and “weight” as an established actor, to elevate minority voices and push for their stories to be included.

Answered your question in part above already.

It’s important to note that there’s a difference between criticizing someone’s actions, and openly hating and/or dissing them. This is a messy situation, and while Tyler can’t change the past, he has to do better in the future. Saying that doesn’t make me (or anyone else) a hater. Tyler’s amazing, but he’s also not perfect. And he doesn’t have to be. No one’s perfect.

When I look back at my life, dear god, I grew up in a very liberal family, we travelled places, I had access to all the books and education, and still. At 23? I was somewhat anti-feminist and a slightly conservative leaning liberal. Not a bad person per se, but also quite ignorant (compared to today’s standards anyway). Thankfully that’s changed over the years. And it keeps changing. Because getting complacent and thinking “I know it all” is BS. I’m working on myself every day, and I’m still prone to fuck up occasionally bc the system is rigged in my favor, and I might not even be aware of it in that moment.

I’m not cross with Tyler, because I can’t say for certain I hadn’t done the same if the circumstances had been similar. I’m actually quite sure I had done the same, bc society and the industry made it okay. AND NO ONE EVER QUESTIONED IT! He never claimed more for himself than a Native ancestor 5 generations back, and society at large and the TV/movie industry in particular said “that’s fine, you have that ancestry, you can go for diverse roles”. So in part, he fell victim to a system that pretended it was okay.

With MeToo and the Black Lives Matter movement, that “it’s okay” mentality is finally questioned and challenged, and more and more people speak up whenever someone tries to pull this shit. But it still keeps happening and there’s a lot more work to do.

No one can claim ignorance anymore, though. And he has to do better in the future.

I feel you, nonnie. It’s a messy situation. Imo it’s most unfortunate that this information came out the way it did. In a heavily edited podcast episode with inexperienced (and dare I say “industry-biased”) moderators. We don’t know what else he said or for how long they talked about this.

The podcast hosts were clearly not the most qualified to handle that kind of revelation. There were no follow-up questions, there was no criticism, and the way the interview was edited, the whole thing was treated as a non-issue and “fun” anecdote. Which doesn’t do Tyler any favors tbh.

But imo it’s also unfair to condemn him solely on what they decided to release. We don’t know what else he said, whether he expressed remorse or whatnot. I don’t know whether his publicist okayed the interview prior to its release. If they did, he should get a new publicist...

(I’m not implying he should’ve kept it a “secret”, but as a publicist I would’ve made sure this revelation had been handled differently, and Tyler hadn’t been made to look like he was just laughing it off).

I don’t know Tyler personally, but going by everything I’ve seen from him and know about him, I’m certain he won’t take on another POC role. And even if another DNA test should come up with a different result one day, and a certain percentage of Native ancestry would be found, I’d expect him to handle things differently. And imo that’s something he expects from himself, too. He’s a good man. <3

I don’t think he should, but I’m white, so my opinion on this isn’t really relevant. If Native groups would call for him to step down (which I don’t think they would), I’d support it because THEIR opinion on this actually matters.

One option could be that they do a storyline where it’s revealed that the woman Alex believes to be his mother isn’t his biological mom and it turns out he’s not Native - but that’s probably a far stretch, idk.

If he’d give up the role (which he clearly isn’t doing, considering he’s found out during S1 and is about to begin filming S3), I doubt The CW would recast the role with a native actor btw. Alex’d just be written off the show.

What I hope for is, that he’ll join Jeanine in her efforts to push for more Native and Latinx representation and stories on the show (Jeanine talked about that in her recent IG live with congressman Castro, @lambourngb made a post about it), and you can watch the entire IG live here.

Fandom’s a large group of many individual people. There are several people who have addressed this and talk about it. And while not every single person in fandom’s talking about it, it’s not swept under the rug either.

And how does this whole thing make Malex fans (another large group of many individual people) look toxic? Malex fans are not a hive mind. I have seen several Malex fans talk about this, and talk about it critically.

I’m sorry that you’re disappointed, nonnie, I’m just not sure what you expected?

#this got very long #i wrote and rewrote this several times #and reading through it again after i publish it will likely make me feel like i should edit it some more #there's not one 'right' answer here #it's a messy situation #nonnie asks #tjb discourse

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