sorry about the lack of links on some of the television shows

Bambam Imagine - Cheat

A/N - Thanks to the anon who requested a Bambam angst scenario, I hope you like it! (Sorry it’s up a little later than usual - I was at a party last night and didn’t have any time to write something for today) Also this is my first angst scenario so sorry if it’s not good.

You were just sat at home in your living room watching your favourite tv show while your boyfriend, Bambam was cooking some dinner for the both of you. Everything seemed like a normal day until you received a text from your best friend with a link to a famous kpop news site. They had said ‘You might want to give this a look, sorry’. Curious, you clicked the link to see an article about Bambam. The headline was accusing him of being seen with a girl…who wasn’t you.

As you read it, you saw multiple pictures of him in a bar with a girl and dismissed it as purely friendship. That was until you saw images of them holding hands and kissing in the backseat of her car. Hurt and angry, you stormed into the kitchen.
“Bambam, what the hell is this?!” You shouted, holding the screen in front of him.
“It’s nothing, I swear! She was the one who came onto me and I couldn’t get her off.”
“Don’t even try that line with me! If she came onto you then how come you’re on top of her in this photo? That looks very intentional if you ask me!”
“Well…uh…I…” Bambam stuttered, clearly at a loss for words since all the evidence was against him.
“Bambam, do you not care about me?” Tears had begun to form in your eyes but you blinked them away, not wanting him to know how hurt and betrayed you felt.
“Of course I do, (Y/N)!”
“Then why did you kiss another girl?”
“Because I was drunk and I didn’t think. I’m sorry okay?” He took a step closer to you and moved his hand to caress your cheek.
“Don’t touch me.” Your voice was cold and Bambam was startled by the lack of emotion present.
“Please, (Y/N). I love you.”
“No, you don’t. If you loved me then you wouldn’t have held her hand like that. You wouldn’t have kissed her. You probably wouldn’t have even carried on speaking to her if you really loved me. You cannot blame the alcohol for your mistake. Now get out of my house. We’re over.”

The sadness on his face broke your heart even more but you wouldn’t give in no matter what. He deserved to feel hurt after what he had done to you. Admitting defeat, he walked out of the house and left you alone. As soon as he had gone, you broke down into tears on the kitchen floor.

Just a little something no one asked for: Human!SugarPie...

Ok ok, before you shoot me for how stupid this may sound let me explain my though process for this…

I absolutely love how sometimes in movies and tv shows they show inventor/creation relationships depicted as parent child relationships, I just think its so cute! So I thought to myself, ‘You know, Robbie would totally have that kind of relationships with one of his inventions…’  And that reminded me of how in the episode, “LazyTown’s New Superhero” Robbie just loved his little Robo-pupper so much, and so I was thinking, ‘Robbie could have a relationship like that with SugarPie,  but it wouldn’t really work because he’s a dog…’ Then it hit me!

‘What if SugarPie was a human?!?!’ …Well..robot human…?

Let me explain….

What if after that episode Robbie discarded SugarPie then like, one or two years later found him in an old broom closet or something and thought to himself, ‘I bet I could make him better…’ and after drawing up blue print upon blueprint of different (dog) designs for him and finding he didn’t like any of them, then thinking, ‘What if I make him bigger, stronger, smarter! That’s it! I’ll make him Human!!’ Then using both SugarPie’s old parts and some new ones builds a 6 foot tall human robot-dog man!!<3

This is kinda how i imagined him to look like:

Full body.

From the waist up.

(Art done by me. Sorry the colors are a little off and the designs are slightly different but the top drawing is the official design. I also just realized that the paw patch is missing from the top drawing and I’m too lazy to go back and fix it Haha sorry I don’t draw so good. Just remember its supposed to be there.)

So yeah I liked this idea so much I just had to draw it! I would keep writing more about this idea but that would be too long so here have this:

HEADCANONS:

  • Robbie is Half elf and his magic is linked to his emotions
  • Somehow, wheather accidental or intentional, some of Robbie’s magic (for lack of a better word) “gets into” SugarPie making him capable of human thought and emotion. 
  • He is just as, if not stronger than Sportacus
  • He looks like he’s about 20 years old.
  • Since he used to be a dog not he’s a dog catcher! Only his job is to catch the kids not stray dogs. (Robbie’s just clever that way.)
  • SugarPie loved his creator and calls him “Dad”, “Father”, “Pops”, and “Sir”
  • Robbie also loves his robotic son very much and thinks rebuilding him is one of the best decisions he’s ever made! 
  • Robbie calls him “Sugar” for short and you can too! :D
  • “Good boy~” 
  • “Look at this net that I just found!” (He always carries around a giant child-sized butterfly net for catching children)
  • Robbie reprogrammed him so instead of attacking when he hears the word “trouble”, he protects Robbie when ever he says “I’m in trouble!”
  • Because of this he’s less dangerous and is a happy smiley puppo. 
  • He likes the kids now and calls them “the pups” or “the puppies” 
  • He LOVES Sportacus!! 

AND FOR ALL YOU SPORTAROBBIE SHIPPERS OUT THERE!:

  • Robbie designed him to have some of Sportacus’ features. (His nose, jaw shape, eyebrows, and body type.)
  • Sugar’s body type is a combination of both Robbie’s lean (and slightly feminine) physique and Sportacus’ muscular upper body.
  • “If I’m designed in his image, doesn’t that make him like my dad too?…”
  • “Hmm………….I guess it does….”
  • YES SPORT IS HIS OTHER DAD!! (He just doesn’t know that…)
  • Sugar doesn’t understand Robbie and sportacus’ hero/villain relationship.
  • “Pop?…Aren’t parents supposed to live together?…Why does Pabi live all alone in that airship?”
  • “Because we aren’t married.”
  • “why not?… You love him don’t you?”
  • “But he doesn’t love me back…”
  • SugarPie “accidentally” calling Sportacus “Dad” or “Pabi” to his face and Sportacus slowly catching on to what’s going on.
  • “Hello honey! How are my husband and my son doing today?~ ;}3”
  • “!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!!?!?!?!!??”
  • Sportacus and Robbie ending up together and raising their robotic son together.
  • The End  
Why Gregory House is an INTJ

I’ll start by saying that House, as all fictional charaters, is harder to type than real people. Many type him as ENTP because of laziness and “p-vibe” he seems to have.

Let’s start to say that hating procedures and his always showing up late are not innate in him. In one episode of the 5th season he clearly says that he does that because of his bad relationship with is father – who, on the other hand, is always rigid and punctual – and because he didn’t want to become like him. I therefore think that, as it is something developed consciously, it should’t be taken into account.

Secondly, many INTJs are lazy when bored, and they are almost always bored. It’s not that House doesn’t want to work – when there are interesting cases he is really engaged and focused – he just is bored easily by routine work that doesn’t stimulate him enough.

Let’s then analyze the functions, which I believe fit best in those of an INTJ.

Ni

House certainly uses Intuition to solve cases. But does he use Ne or Ni?

Ne is the ultimate link maker, doing excellent job connecting ideas. However, Ne doesn’t think in metaphors, like House does.

His metaphors are so famous that if you claim he doesn’t use them, you were clearly not paying attention when watching the series.

Saying there appears to be some clotting is like saying there’s a traffic jam ahead. Is it a ten-car pile up, or just a really slow bus in the center lane? And if it is a bus, is that bus thrombotic or embolic? I think I pushed the metaphor too far.

(“Euphoria, Part 1”)

Ni is the one which makes metaphores your second language. This is the only true explenation of why House is not a Ne user.

Also, his “intuitions” are sudden and triggered by his Te or Se. But we’ll get to that.

Te

House is quick witted and has an ready response for almost everything. He prefers logic over every everything else. Te + Ni make him always look for a bigger picture that includes all the symptoms, and he doesn’t believe in coincidences. The cause has to be logical, and to him he doen’t matter that it a usually unlikely cause. (Sherlock Holmes quote he quoted himself: “When you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth.”)

He generates ideas when talking, not when thinking on its own (although he likes to think on his own - see down to the Se point). That is why he likes to debate the differentials with his team, or talk about his cases with Wilson or everyone really (in some episodes he does the differentials with random people) – because Te helps him trigger the intuitions.

 Fi

Everyone knows that House has troubles expressing his feelings, but that would also fit a tertiary Fe user, not only a Fi user. He is a Fi user because of his total lack of empathy.

I’ve talked to an ENTP and he told me that even if he has difficulties to express is feelings he feels empathetic if in front of his eyes is a person experiencing strong emotions. House doesn’t.

When he sees other people showing emotions he hides more and more inside his shell, becoming also unusually quiet. (Unless he says something really harsh using is Te).

 Se

House is such an inferior Se user. Let’s think of his addictions: Vicodin, prostitutes, sweet food (oh yes, he is always eating something sweet – haven’t you noticed?). All signs of inferior Se. He is also a pianist, and appreciates the aestetics of things – like when he bought a motorcicle because it looked awesome. He also dislike change, like many fellows INTJs.

House: “It’s one of the great tragedies of life… something always – something always changes.”

He complained for weeks when Cuddy replaced his office carpet.

He has a thing for risky experiences – for example the many times he consciously risked his life and that of the patients, or just the fact that he rides a motorcicle. He also enjoys sports, as we saw when he could temporarily use his leg again.

Moreover, he use Se to help him with his thought process - when he thinks by himself, he usually plays with a ball or his cane, which means that using his Se helps him think and consequently help his intuition.

He is also very visual when doing differentials: just thinking about or hearing the symptoms is not enough, he has to write them down on his whiteboard.

Lastly, his character was inspired by Sherlock Holmes (the author of the series himself admitted that), who is an INTJ too. They have the same deduction pattern: they see clues, elaborate theories, and act on them. So, people who think he is an ENTP, I’m sorry.

Learning How to Love Chapter Five, Day Eight Part Four: Unworthy

Hello everyone, Happy Saturday! I’m so sorry I’m late, it’s been a bit of a rough week for me, but I have returned with a long new chapter! It’s more than 7000 words, so you might want to spare some time smh the thirst is real. I’d like to thank you all so much for being patient with me, and for those of you who were concerned about my health, I truly appreciate it! 

In addition, thank you all for your responses to a potential little drabble about vampire Jumin, your responses were all so considerate and humorous! Since there was plenty of interest shown, one of my next updates will be about that, as I have already begun the process of writing it and I’m having so much fun. :)

As usual, thank you so much to all who have read/liked/reblogged/replied to my original posts. I am beyond grateful for all the wonderful reactions and excitement that followed my previous chapters. I hope you all enjoy this latest chapter!

Please don’t hesitate to let me know if you’d like me to tag you in future chapter posts, as I am more than happy to do so!

To those of you who haven’t read the first chapters and would like to, here are links to each:

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Note: As always, MC will be referred to as MC in this story in the third person instead of blanks or Y/N. In addition, this story contains minor spoilers for Jumin’s route.

Our poor baby Juju is so hard on himself…


Chapter Five, Day Eight Part Four: Unworthy

“I have an idea,” MC said as she walked over to the bed, picking up her things and setting them aside to make room. She patted the spot beside her as she sat at the end, facing the television. “Why don’t we watch a movie?”

Jumin could only watch her unhurried movements with equal measures of confusion and apprehension. He had been almost certain that she would have been packing her things to leave as soon as physically possible, appalled and unsettled by his irrational behavior minutes prior.

“…A movie?” He asked, wondering if he had heard her right.

“Sure!” She chirped, sapphire eyes sparkling. “It sounds like it might be a little while until the chef comes, you said that Lydia was out of town for the night, right?”

He nodded, still shocked by her bright disposition. There was no revulsion or fear in her cheerful gaze, only affection and acceptance. She looked as if there was no place in this world she would be happier, that being here with him was an exceedingly natural arrangement despite everything. MC watched with joy as his tight expression eased a bit, his stiff shoulders relaxing.

“Then we have plenty of time! Unless you have work to do, of course.” She amended, unsure if he already had a task to complete when he arrived home. She knew last minute deviations from his mentally predetermined schedules would only unsettle him further, so it had to be his own voluntary decision to do otherwise.

She watched as he visibly deliberated, his eyes roaming about the room as if he was afraid to meet her patient gaze, afraid of what he’d find following the admission of his ineptitude.. “…No. I’m not certain I would be all that productive in this state anyway.” Sorry Jaehee, MC couldn’t help the immediate remorse she felt for placing more work on the poor woman, but he needs to heal if he’s going to start treating people better and be happier. I’ll make it up to you somehow.

“Jumin,” He still wouldn’t look up. “Please look at me.” She entreated, her voice low and soothing. After a moment, his head rose in her direction and his eyes widened at the gentle look that met him. “It’s okay. There’s nothing wrong with taking a break when you need it.”

She patted the spot beside her again. “It doesn’t have to be a movie or a show, we can just sit and play music if you want, or read. Whatever makes you feel at ease.”

After a moment’s hesitation, he began to walk to her slowly, like a frightened deer approaching a stranger’s outstretched hand. When he reached the bed, he sat a foot away as she faced the television, giving her the appropriate space a gentleman would.

“A movie sounds fine.” He muttered, fiddling with his cuff links as she picked up the remote.

“Hm…” She said as she flipped through the options before turning to him, curious. “What do you usually like to watch?”

Jumin shrugged. “I rarely ever watch anything. You can go ahead and pick something that you would enjoy.”

MC wracked her brain for a moment, trying to think of the few things she had liked to watch in the past that might prove interesting to him. Until a match struck her so hard she had to withhold a sly smile.

“I’ve got just the thing!” She enthused, moving to the on demand BBC channel. Jumin jumped lightly at her outburst, his head snapping to hers with a brow raised as he took in her sudden excited swaying. Perhaps something like this could hearten his overwhelmed mind, distracting him with its intricacy, wit, and relatable protagonist. Despite the fact that she had already watched every episode, the show was engaging and well-structured enough to be seen over and over and glean new insights. So she settled in, hugging her legs to her chest and laying her head on her knees as she listened to the familiar introductory tune of crashing drums, underlying piano rhythms, and crescendoing violins.

“Sherlock…?” He asked as the letters made themselves visible across the screen.

As the show went on, showcasing its ironic humor and exceedingly clever execution, she stole glances at his face as it progressed. Her gaze slid to his form and watched as he went from a brow raised in uninterested skepticism as he leaned back, to a huffed chuckle as soon as Watson entered, and then to eyes widened in suspense, his gaze laser-focused on the screen as he watched the final minutes with increasing anticipation. About an hour into the episode Jaehee had appeared in the messenger, MC’s phone blinking gold. She turned down the screen brightness so that she wouldn’t distract Jumin, but he was so engrossed he hadn’t even noticed her texting.

Despite Jaehee’s generous consideration of Jumin’s situation and her surprise that MC was still at his home, there was clear frustration in her messages as she explained his refusal to pick up his phone. MC reasoned that it would probably be wisest for her to remain with him due to his lingering anxiety, and expressed her own shock that he hadn’t picked up his calls. Though MC hadn’t seen him use or take out his phone since he returned, she had no idea he was blatantly ignoring both Jaehee and Director Han’s efforts to reach him.

She couldn’t say it was altogether unexpected, however. He was having a hard enough time trying to keep his fear of abandonment at bay; discussing two women who were threatening to coerce him into marriage was more than he could handle right now. And even if he didn’t know Director Han’s or Jaehee’s intentions she knew that the weight of their silent expectations, looming over him and waiting to inflict outraged disapproval, was enough for him to recoil at the sight of his own phone. Jaehee also expressed concern, like every other member of the RFA, regarding whether or not Jumin had been treating MC with the proper respect during her elongated stay; likely due to his general lack of social experience and interaction. Touched as she was, MC repeated like the broken record she was becoming that he just needed more time, that he was indeed treating her right, and that it was her own decision to stay. Unwilling to be interrogated about it further, MC asked about more pressing matters like how work was going without Jumin. She was relieved to hear that things weren’t falling apart as a result of his recent incapacitation, and that Jaehee was mostly trying to contact him about a recent discovery she had made regarding Sarah and Glam Choi.

Knowing that Jumin may not be receptive to the idea of calling anyone right now, MC asked Jaehee if she could simply relay the information to him. To which Jaehee hesitated, stating apologetically that it was confidential company business. She asked if MC could ask Jumin to call her instead, and MC agreed with some measure of reluctance. She didn’t want to disappoint Jaehee, but she also didn’t want to pressure Jumin into anything he didn’t want to do, especially as of now.

It then occurred to Jaehee that MC needed to complete the preparations for the party in three days before it was too late. But MC assured her that Jumin had promised to send her back to Rika’s apartment to finish her tasks, unperturbed enough to satisfy her. When Jaehee returned to work, MC made sure to remind the woman to eat well and take care of her health regardless of how busy she was, worried that the stress was getting to her. The sentiment was reciprocated before Jaehee left the messenger with lingering dismay.

Not long after, Yoosung appeared as well, detailing his stay in Seven’s strange home to assist him with some unknown plan. Though Yoosung didn’t know enough about Seven’s designs to explain to MC, he did ask if Jumin was treating her right. MC admitted he was somewhat unstable, but asserted that he was making a genuine effort to reign in his overwhelming thoughts and feelings. Yoosung also expressed concern regarding Jumin’s sudden detachment to Elizabeth the Third, but was quickly assuaged when MC elaborated that it was a result of Jumin’s realization that his love for the cat went beyond what was reasonable. His newfound ability to understand that resulted in him having a more normal level of affection for Elizabeth as his pet; along with an acute unease that he had mistreated the creature and would continue to do so.

When she impetuously looked over at Jumin’s still, enthralled countenance for a moment she couldn’t help but find his sincere concern for all of the planet’s creatures adorable. Sure there was a level of practicality to that thought process, but there was also compassion in it too: the belief that every sentient being had the right to basic decency and heartfelt care. Regardless of how little of the latter he had received in his lifetime, it seemed.

Yoosung did make a valid point in stating that Jumin might have difficulty dissociating love from ownership; what with his father’s inability to set a healthy example of a relationship and all the women in his life intimating with their behavior that love meant control and ownership. She agreed to communicate with Jumin about that as much as possible, confident it could be accomplished with gentle coaxing in the right direction and level-headed reminders whenever he became too forceful or insistent.

It was then that Seven called Yoosung back into his room though Yoosung claimed that it was likely a false alarm, as Seven did so several times only to send him back to playing LOLOL and eating Honey Buddha Chips in the other room indefinitely. MC sympathized and wished him luck, appreciating his optimism and kind, well-meaning insight before they shared farewells.

MC then left her phone face down with no intention of opening it again, focusing her attention on Jumin. When MC’s eyes returned to the screen she saw that the episode was minutes away from the end, waiting as the final scene played and the credits started rolling before turning to him. He appeared fascinated despite the blank look on his face; leaning towards the screen, expectant.

“Want to watch the next episode, too?”

He blinked, “I don’t know…” he said as he noticed the duration of each episode.

She settled on a compromise, knowing that he would probably be more receptive to a logical arrangement. “How about we watch one more and then start getting ready for dinner? How much longer before the chef is here?”

Jumin reached into his pocket and opened his phone, bleak fatigue transforming his eyes into the dull silver of a beloved pendant, one that was lost and left to languish in perpetual obscurity. The neutral line of his mouth became a severe frown, swiping apathetically at the sight of his missed calls as if they were meaningless notifications. Instead she watched as he texted the chef, looking back up to her when he received a reply.

“The rain is making traffic abysmal. He will not be here for another two, perhaps three, hours.” He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose with a forefinger and thumb as if to ward away an impending headache. “I left you alone all day, and can’t even schedule dinner at a reasonable time. I’m so sorry about all this, it seems I can’t do much of anything right.” She knew this was about more than just his late arrival and inability to provide a meal at the advised time of consumption. It was about his father’s unfair disappointment in him for deciding his own path to happiness and Elizabeth’s decision to run away. It was about the fact that no matter how hard he tried, at the end of the day he felt like a failure. And nobody bothered to tell him otherwise.

“Don’t say that,” She entreated as she scooched over to where he sat, pulling away the hand that was now covering his face. Downcast eyes met hers, desolate and hopeless. “You can’t control the fact that it’s raining outside or that there’s always ridiculous traffic in this city.” She gestured to the enormous windows, the distant specks of countless car headlights drowning in the smearing raindrops visible from afar. “You’re not a failure.”

She gained momentum as she went on, unable to stop herself now that she had begun.

“And there’s no way you could have anticipated Elizabeth the Third’s disappearance, and I say disappearance because I’m not convinced she ran away.” She clarified before he could correct her. “Or the fact that your father imposes what he thinks is best on you, just like any frightened parent does sometimes.” His gaze strayed to his phone, unable to deny what she had said but also unconvinced of his lack of accountability.

She stood from the bed and walked to where he was sitting upright, cupping his face in her hands since she was only tall enough from this vantage point. She tilted his head up to look at her with a slow, cautious pull so as not to startle him. Her smile was soft as she brushed back the ebony hair that fringed his left eye with a careful, fond movement. Smooth fingers stroked his cheeks, with rhythmic sweeps of her thumbs as she watched the creased element of his expression ease, his entire body leaning into her gentle touch without thinking. He’d never been handled with such deliberate care, as if he were one of those windblown glass figurines his mother had safeguarded in her enormous antique cabinet.

“Don’t be so hard on yourself. You know how hard you’re trying to make amends in the way you believe is right, and so do I. What they think they know about you doesn’t matter. You know yourself and what you need, and nobody has any right to dictate that for you.” She said with the utmost conviction, hoping her firm solidarity would bolster his resolve before she returned to her silvery appeal.

“It’s okay to ask for help sometimes. It doesn’t make you weak, it makes you human. And you’re allowed to make mistakes along the way; you’re allowed to be imperfect.”

He stared back at her with a mixture of dazed wonder and disbelief, his eyes searching her features, wondering when she would tell him that she couldn’t stand him anymore, or that she just wanted something from him; that this was all a game. But she didn’t. Instead she leaned forward to press a kiss to his forehead, the feather-light touch infusing him with more warmth than he had ever known all his life before she hugged him to her.

“Please, don’t hate the person I’ve come to befriend and like so much. Especially when he’s taken such good care of me when he had no reason to invite me into his home or look after me, even when he’s had countless things on his mind and lost so much since he met me.” She murmured as his arms lifted to encircle her waist tightly, holding her close and hiding himself in the breadth of her clothed stomach as she continued to embrace his shoulders. She caressed his hair, running her fingers through the silky strands as she granted him as much time as he needed to take everything in.

She wasn’t sure how long they stayed that way, her hands eventually moving down to smooth over the broad expanse of his back and him holding her close with little intention of letting her go. Part of her had to wonder how long it had been since somebody simply hugged him before she entered his life, how long he had needed somebody to tell him the world wouldn’t end if he wasn’t perfect.

It was the jarring vibration of his phone, another message from the chef, that made him sigh and let go. He offered a small, apologetic curve of his lips as he reached for the device.

“Good news,” Jumin explained, his shoulders lowering as he let out a long exhale. “Traffic is moving quicker than he thought. We have about an hour before he arrives. Would you like to use the lavatory first?” He asked, gesturing to the door across the way.

“Yes, thank you.” MC said with a nod, moving to the closet to gather the spare change of clothes Jumin had bought for her before moving to the bathroom.

As soon as she closed the door, she put her bundle down on the countertop and let her head fall into her hands. You idiot, you need to take things slow or he’ll get the wrong idea. She chastised herself, conflicted. But he just looked so distraught…

She shook her head forcefully at the thought, reminding herself that there were greater things at stake here; like a man’s lifelong emotional well-being.

After taking a quick but thorough shower, she donned the crimson dress lined with elegant black lace and smoothed the fabric over her legs, feeling nervous. She didn’t even want to know how much he spent on the ensemble as she slipped on the black heels, certain it was a ludicrous amount that would just make her want to put everything back in the closet before she ruined them. A princess deserves nothing less, she could hear him coo now. Sometimes she wondered, with no shortage of fond amusement, whether he had been raised in this century or one long past.

She also noticed with a measure of relief that the only extraneous additions to the little pile were a modest tube of lipstick and coco chanel perfume, subtle yet classy. She personally wasn’t one for an overwhelming number of cosmetics herself, just a touch of rouge to make her lips stand out and a pleasant fragrance.

She was double-checking her appearance in the mirror when Zen had a small ultimatum in the messenger before she exited the bathroom, outraged that MC was still comforting Jumin and ready to barge into the penthouse to demand her freedom. MC immediately protested and was grateful to Jaehee for joining in, advising him against the idea as well when she entered the messenger after a long day’s work. Instead, Jaehee volunteered to check on MC to ascertain her safety and touch base with Jumin, if not to avoid a potential disaster. Both MC and Zen agreed and advised Jaehee to be safe before they all exited the chat, even though it was clear Zen had persistent misgivings no matter their reassurances.

Not a second later, Jumin sent MC a text asking her to put her hair up in a princess braid; two separate braids starting at the edges of her forehead and pulled back over the rest of her hair to mimic a crown. With a shrug, she used the hair ties that he indicated were in the drawer specifically for her use and engaged in the simple task, using the mirror to line everything up and make sure her hair remained smooth and even.

When she was satisfied that she looked decent and the apocalypse would not come early, she stepped out into the hallway and made her way to the dining room. Jumin was already waiting for her when she peeked around the corner, standing behind the chair he had pulled out at the far end of the table. His usual striped ensemble of black and white was substituted tonight for a navy vest and azure dress shirt, complementing and brightening his pallor. The shades of blue were masterfully coupled with a lustrous silver tie and neatly tucked handkerchief, accentuating his captivating eyes as they landed on her, equally luminous. He was a sight to behold.

He must have grown impatient and utilized the bathroom in his own room to prepare, that or the chef had arrived prematurely. With measured steps she walked over hoping she wouldn’t embarrass herself, a little shy due to her unfamiliarity with such luxury. He watched her with an intense, steady gaze; taking each part of her in with enthralled satisfaction. Though he did note her hesitance with growing dismay, hoping he hadn’t upset her by asking her to wear the things he bought and wear her hair up as he had indicated. It wasn’t that she wasn’t breathtaking otherwise, he simply liked giving her things to adorn her already alluring features.

He was relieved when MC granted him a tentative smile as she approached his position about a foot away. Returning it with a small one of his own, he gestured for her to sit and pushed in the chair before moving to the other side. As MC took in the display she noticed it was laid out with accommodations more suitable for royalty than a common girl like her: two glasses filled with French wine hundreds of years old and a name she was incapable of pronouncing, a diamond encrusted vase filled with a modest number of roses, a white tablecloth with silver embellishments, and the low beckoning of a violin concerto filled with poignant tension and enchantment creating a charming ambiance.

This man never did anything by halves, did he?

MC took in the bouquet of fresh crimson roses with immediate fascination, resisting the urge to reach out and press a velvet petal between her fingertips, relishing in the sensation. She had never seen such pristine roses, as the flowers tended to be sensitive and prone to disease; she wondered where they came from. She admired the intricacy of the twisting petals, the scarlet hue growing darker and darker the closer it approached the center until the color resembled blood. It reminded her of the days her father bought roses for her and her mother on Valentine’s Day every year, always claiming that there were two important women in his life, not one. The memory made her grin before her face fell, remembering that she couldn’t contact her family for a few more days. At least, according to V, until the party was over and she was no longer a liability. They must have been worried sick about her…

Jumin misconstrued her momentary melancholy as he noticed her lack of response to the food placed in front of her minutes ago, unaware that she was simply distracted. “This is a late meal. I’m sorry.”

She blinked, returning to the moment at hand at the sound of his voice. What was she doing? She wasn’t alone. Jumin was here now, and it wasn’t as though she would never see her family ever again. The was no point in lamenting time lost with them, because it was time she had otherwise gained with Jumin despite the infinitesimal odds that they would ever meet.

“No, not at all. It’s all right.” She reassured, eating if only to placate him as she had eaten well that afternoon. Her meal was, admittedly, cooked and seasoned to perfection just like everything else she had consumed during her stay. But she had to wonder where the entire RFA got the strange habit of demanding whether or not their loved ones had eaten. It was incredibly sweet, but also a little bizarre and off-putting at times.

“How is the food? It’s veal. I hope it suits your palate.” She nodded, unperturbed either way as she couldn’t really tell the difference while he took a sip of his wine. To savor it or steady himself, even he couldn’t be sure. As he placed the glass down in a practiced motion, he noticed her head turning in the direction of the gorgeous melody as soon as it swelled, curious eyes seeking out the veritable euphony.

“This violin piece….Did you know? It’s a waltz called ‘I want you’ written in 1903 France.” Ah, her old friend Jumin No Chill Han was surfacing. She stifled an amused grin at his attempt at subtle flirting. He was about as subtle as a stampede of elephants, and it was adorable.

Regardless, she had to concede that the tune was captivating and his execution did nothing to lessen the heat that rose to her cheeks at his intensity. It would be inappropriate to fan herself, right? Right. Focus, MC.  “It’s beautiful,” MC murmured as an avid lover of music, especially the violin.

His answering smile was pleased, delighted to find something in common. “If you like it, why don’t we go to an orchestra concert that plays this piece next time?”

MC nodded enthusiastically, expression alight. The prospect was exciting, as she had never been able to afford the luxury of live performances in her life. Every rare opportunity she had been able to seize in school that involved professional instrumentalists left her enraptured, responding to the moving elements within each composition with either tears, awe, or laughter. Exquisite joy saturated each of those experiences; the memories lingering in vivid color and clarity in her mind.

At the sight of her ardor, he sighed blissfully. “…It’s perfect. This music, these fresh flowers, this perfectly paired wine, and you in front of my eyes.” Contentment softened his features as he gazed at her, insatiable as he took in her animated mien. “The dress I chose, the perfect lip color for your skin, the hairstyle that reveals your ears… I love your ears. They are very cute. And your eyebrows, your nails. You are beautiful throughout, but it’s the details that get to me.” She flushed as he admired her, every word heavy with sincerity and adoration. Unlike the other men in her life who had observed her with romantic intent, his sharp eyes were not an invasion so much as a light, appreciative caress. Instead of focusing on the features that appealed to him, he took in every part of her with equal desire, accepting her as she was. She lowered her head to try and hide behind her hair, nervous and timid when it came to her physical appearance. She knew she was only average in beauty and stature, regardless of the fact that Jumin didn’t seem to care. He could have any woman he wanted, someone with a figure like Sarah’s for instance.

He misinterpreted her shy disposition as discomfort and immediately returned to his urbane demeanor, his gaze falling. “Oh, I’m sorry if I’ve made you uncomfortable. I’m just so happy. I got a bit too excited.” He admitted, his remorse tinged with good-natured euphoria.

As much as she appreciated his earnest compliments, his sudden fervor was sobering. It made her remember that she needed to keep this as platonic as possible. She couldn’t just let him forget his responsibilities or let him set aside the complicated nature of sorting out his feelings for the sake of initiating a romantic relationship while he was still emotionally compromised. “…Thank you for this nice meal. But I can’t help but worry about Elizabeth.”

“Worried? That’s why you didn’t look too happy.” His brows furrowed and he sighed through his nose, frowning. It was clear he was trying not to think about the cat in the hopes of warding away his fear and avoiding his previous loss of control. “Elizabeth the Third…We’ll find her. I plan to increase the recompense by ten times if things get too delayed.”

He looked away as he went on, his eyes roaming around the room. It was clear he was distraught by the following possibility but knew by his infallible, systematic logic that it was a feasible result of Elizabeth the Third’s disappearance. “If we can’t find her until tomorrow…it might be that someone else has taken her in. It’s my fault that she left this house. But…” He shook his head, looking back to her with a rueful half-smile. “MC. If you keep thinking about the cat that’s run off, you’ll only feel more sad.” He murmured, as if he couldn’t bear to say Elizabeth’s name again or the thought of MC being upset. “What’s important right now is us. The cat won’t come back just because we’re sad…” His serious disposition morphed into that rare boyish smile, a bit of bashfulness creeping into his eager expression. “Is there any way I can make you smile?” He asked, as if there was nothing else he wanted more in the world.

When she made no move to reply, shocked and only able to blink at him, he continued. “Oh, right. I have some good news.” He was grave once again while she was still rendered speechless by the spontaneous request, her innards turning to mush at how sweet he could be. “I called my father today and we’re going to meet tomorrow. I plan to end all discussions of marriage.” He said firmly, the line of his mouth severe. “I plan to tell him about how that woman barged in here this morning and tried to play me. I’ll also show him the personal credit reports Assistant Kang found.” If she hadn’t known the way his eyes hardened to granite when he was agitated, she would have assumed by his cool, apathetic breakdown of evidence that he was nothing more than bored. “If the discussion goes well, my father and I will be good again.” He sighed, as if it was too much to hope after his previous attempts to reason with the man. “If my father is back on my side just like before…those women won’t be able to bother me any further. And they’ll never be able to touch you.” His expression darkened at the very notion of Sarah or Glam Choi approaching MC, grim and implacable.


For a moment, MC had to wonder why anyone other than Zen thought it a trifling matter to make an enemy of Jumin Han.

She watched him take another slow pull of his wine, as if to wash away the thought as his belligerence eased. “Everything will go back to the way it was once we find Elizabeth the Third, the hacker threat is gone, and those women are no longer around us.” He concluded. The thought likely gave him some measure of peace in such trying times, despite the low probability that things would be resolved so easily.

He was only forgetting one thing. There was still the matter of the RFA party. “But first, I think I might have to go home to prepare for the party…What do you think?” MC queried, actively including him in the decision this time to diminish the explosive fear that had surfaced hours ago.

His face puckered at the reminder. “Oh…right. I have to send you back for the party. The place you’re returning to is a secret location, so I won’t be able to send my bodyguards…” Unease flashed across his face. The inability to ascertain her safety, especially while he was apart from her, was beyond troubling. “But I’ll call V and figure something out.” He promised, acknowledging that some compromise had to be made as the party’s execution was essential.

“How about…” He proposed, looking hopeful as he looked at her from beneath his lashes, forlorn. “you return home the day after tomorrow and not tomorrow?”

But MC held her ground. He needed to grow comfortable with the idea of basic separation if they were ever going to be able to foster a healthy relationship one day. He needed to become confident in her ability to return to him safe and sound as she went about her daily life, and her desire to return to him of her own volition. “I still think I should return as soon as possible…” She hedged, fiddling with a thread sticking out of the lace additions of her dress.

“I want to spend more time with you…” He murmured, crestfallen. The words were a flowing supplication as he stared at her, an undiluted reflection of his thoughts as he was gripped by the perpetual fear that she would vanish right before his eyes if he so much as looked away. “But that’s not what’s important now.” He eventually conceded, knowing her protection mattered more than anything he might like. Even if he couldn’t see her, even if she never wanted to see him again after she inevitably left this place, he wanted her smile to be safe. “We might need more time to ensure that you’re properly safeguarded. Please believe me on this. A day will be enough to prepare for the party. I will have my people help if necessary.” He assured, already making a mental list of coworkers at the office that would be able to lend a hand.

“Instead, let’s talk about how far along the preparations are once we finish eating. We’ll manage to find a solution. I’ve already held the party twice, so I’ll be able to help you. I promise I’ll send you back to Rika’s apartment before the party.” Despite the pragmatic nature of his explanation, it wasn’t like when he had spoken to Sarah. The logic was infused with sincerity and care, looking to her with every intention of keeping his word and lending a hand.

“But… until you return,” He added, his eyes falling to the table as he started fiddling with his cufflinks. “Please remain in this building and be safe. I told you before… but I’m scared that you will disappear forever if you leave my sight.” His voice was quiet, as if he knew he was being unreasonable and hated himself for it, but didn’t know any other way to retain his sanity right now.

He looked so conflicted, sitting there with his brows furrowed and his lips pursed, before he suddenly dropped his hands and looked up. “Can you…understand how I feel?” He struggled to ask, hope and torment swirling in his stormy eyes. They spoke of a desperation to be understood in a world that had simply put him in a neat box titled rich control freak and set him aside.

“I do understand…” She murmured as she peered right back, her sympathetic gaze patient and gentle at the sight of his genuine anguish. He looked into the oceanic depths of her eyes and never thought he could enjoy drowning so much, engulfed by a wealth of understanding and tenderness. It made him want to believe that he wouldn’t be betrayed or left alone again, that maybe he could try if she remained by his side.

He granted her a repentant smile, fully aware that he was being irrational and unable to help it, but grateful for her compassion nonetheless. “Thank you for trying to understand. To return your kindness…I’ll try to ensure your safety so that you can return as soon as possible.” His gaze fell as he fiddled with his cufflinks again. “I’m sorry about earlier…I couldn’t control my emotions. I shouldn’t have blocked you and talked to you so forcefully. I don’t want to restrain you…that’s not very democratic.” Disapproval laced his words, ashamed of himself as he continued to apologize for the hundredth time that evening. “But I hope you don’t consider everything to be a restraint. I want to believe you’re here…because you understand how much I worry.” He tried to sound hopeful, but the attempt was brittle, falling apart even as he spoke. As if even he knew the prospect was preposterous, that nobody could ever feel that way after what he’d done.

MC wasn’t as distressed as he might have feared what with the knowledge of his intentions and hardships. Not to mention the fact that he always explained himself and worked to ascertain her happiness above all else. Considering the circumstances, he had been more than fair and benevolent during her stay.

And he was forgetting the most important element of their situation. She had decided to stay in the penthouse of her own free will, enjoying the time she spent with him and supporting him just as she would anybody that was important to her. If she was truly so uncomfortable or bent on leaving, she could have easily asked Zen to help her or call the police. Even simpler, she could have walked right out the door when Jumin left on his errands, losing the guards on the path to her escape. She had simply chosen not to.

MC nodded without hesitation. “Of course. I’m also here because I’m worried about you losing Elizabeth.”

His fingers froze, his eyes wide. “Thank you,” was all he managed to say as he blinked at her.

After a moment he seemed to find his voice again, suffused with a relief so great that it rivaled a desert explorer discovering an uncharted oasis. “Although you may not understand the worries and fears I have to some extent…it’s enough that you’re thinking of me.” She agreed that she might not fully understand everything, but she was more than willing to try. Anything to be able to see that radiant look on his face, moved by her efforts and mollified beyond measure.

But the enchantment soon ebbed, swallowed by festering guilt. He let the tip of his forefinger trace the rim of his wineglass as he spoke. “I don’t feel so good about this either. It’s as if I’ve locked you in here.” He pursed his lips, staring into the depths of its contents before he returned his gaze to her, mildly assuaged by whatever answer he had detected in the violet ripples.

“But I at least want you to be happy while you’re here. There are more places you can visit inside this building than you think. There’s a gym on the seventh floor, and there’s a mini garden on the rooftop. It’s a nice place to go for a walk under the sun. On the first floor is the lounge cafe and restaurant, and in the basement, there’s a shop with imported goods. I think there’s also an antique shop.” His eyes rose the ceiling as he deliberated, trying to remember all the places he had seen and gone to within the building.

“There are a lot of people there so I rarely go. If you want to be around more people, then that’s a good place. Of course, my bodyguards will be with you.” Though she considered the requirement a little unnecessary, she acknowledged that she was in an unfamiliar building while plenty of people were potentially after her right now. Better to be safe than sorry, especially if it would put Jumin at ease when she was out of his sight and make him more willing to grant her freedom. “I rarely leave the building when I don’t have work scheduled… so you’ll be able to do everything here.” He reassured, still listing logical benefits of staying. She had a feeling she knew exactly where he was going with this, but she didn’t want to interrupt him, knowing that this was just as much for him as it was for her.

And as much as she appreciated the silent peace of his home, he needed to get out and see the world a little more. If they ever started dating, she would make sure to take him to engaging places outside of the penthouse now and then for some wholesome fun.

“When you’re hungry you can call the chefs as I just did now. They’ll make anything you want. If you want to work out, you can go to the seventh floor and call for a trainer. If you want to listen to music, I can invite a famous ensemble member. I can also call for a mini-orchestra to come here right way. The big orchestras require that you book at least a week in advance. There’s a music hall on the second floor, so they will be playing there. The best wine that suits your palate, the most luxurious items of your taste…” His descriptions petered out to reveal his primary motive for telling her all this, though it was nice to know about the available facilities for future reference. “Anything is possible in this place where we are together…”

His wandering gaze suddenly zeroed on hers. “So please don’t think it’s boring to stay here. Please, stay with me here at my home.” He implored, as if he was sure he wasn’t reason enough for her to choose to stay. Oh silly Jumin, she wanted to murmur, you didn’t have to tell me about the penthouse’s impressive facilities to persuade me to stay. After all, it isn’t hard to guess at your wealth or resources. Being with you is more than enough, you could live in a damn paper box for all I care.

But before she could offer reassurance, there was a knock on the door.

“Just a moment.” Jumin paused at the sound, his reticence returning as he regarded his employee’s cautious entrance.

“Mr. Han, sir…” Though the guard did his best to remain professional and unfazed, there was an underlying discomfort to the way he addressed Jumin.

Jumin looked up with a neutral expression, his tone flat. “What is it?”

“Chief Assistant Kang is here to see you, sir.”

“I can’t see her right now. Tell her to send me an email if she needs anything.” He replied without a moment’s indecision, turning away from the guard to refocus on MC. Sorry Jaehee, but I had a feeling this would happen. I’m not sure we can nudge him out of what’s left of his comfort zone right now…

“Yes, sir.” The guard showed himself out and MC tried not to be embarrassed by how awkward this must have been for the poor man. She couldn’t imagine the number of strange situations Jumin had put his guards through over the years with that constant nonplussed demeanor; she would have to ask them about it if she ever had an opportunity in the future.

MC tried to make another appeal on behalf of the poor assistant, wishing she could do more to help. “Jaehee said in the messenger that she’s coming here…Can’t we see her?”

But he shook his head, unwilling to think about work or whatever Jaehee had on Sarah and Glam Choi. All he wanted was to enjoy MC’s company and the absolute calm she managed to coax from his jumbled mind, to revel in the soothing balm that was her unobtrusive presence. “I don’t want anyone to interfere with this perfect moment, I want to focus on you. We will continue our dinner…”

Upon saying so he noticed that they were both more or less finished, rising from his chair to address the chef in the kitchen. “I’ll have to check the dessert menu.”


Tagged: @protectjuminhan @likeaquietfantasy @ofmeldingdays @bunnycatalina @jetblckcrow @blakerose-blog @talesofbiro @catchthespade @catm3imi @directorjumin @velvetcovered-brick @lowenchickapow @goldenkaori-13 @dreams-of-a-immortal @pikachupnk @the-sloth-woman

Bawson AU - Oneshot

Beach vacation AU: Ginny Baker, the rising star of a small screen TV show, has had enough of work. She is in desperate need of some alone time, away from people and spotlight so she heads to a small remote seaside town where she hopes no one will recognise her.

Collage - made by me, pictures found via google

Hope you enjoy :D

AO3 link: http://archiveofourown.org/works/9425306

A Heavenly Vision, oneshot

Her bungalow is cosy and overlooks a semi-private beach so there aren’t many people there which is very much to her liking. She’s had enough of paparazzi to last her a lifetime. All she wants is some time to herself, with no bodyguards, no cell phones, no social media or fans wanting to take her picture. Don’t get her wrong – she adores her fans, but sometimes, it’s just too much for her.

She knew what she was getting herself into when she decided to pursue acting, but she could never have dreamt the fame she would achieve. Thousands of fans flocking to conventions just to see her and her castmates, take a picture with her, reporters asking her the same questions over and over again, paparazzi following her every move and everyone she’s involved in, reporting fake stories and relationships, harassing her… Her anxiety levels have reached a new high and she was afraid it was a matter of days before she broke down… again.

An escape from reality is what she needed.

Ginny wasn’t even aware just how exhausted and sleep deprived she is until she came here. Luckily, there’s no one here to bother her so she basks in her newfound freedom, at least for a little while. She enjoys walking the sandy beach, swimming in crystal blue water, sleeping all day if she wants to and basically doing nothing but relaxing.

Until one day, her peaceful vacation is interrupted by a sight of a handsome surfer.

The first time she sees him, she’s climbing up the stairs to her bungalow, freshly out of water, having taken the opportunity to take an early morning swim before anyone comes. From the corner of her eye, she catches a glimpse something bright blue. Turning to her right, she sees a man carrying a surfboard, his wetsuit pulled way low on his abdomen. His chest glistens in the morning sun and Ginny unconsciously swallows, licking her lips as her gaze travels down from his pecs across his six pack to the very visible bulge in the wetsuit.

Before she could inspect him some more, Ginny flees into the house because she’s here to have some alone time and not ogle at men, hot as they may be.

The next time she sees him, she’s just woken up, pulling open the dark drapes on her terrace door. He’s in the wetsuit again, gracing Ginny with the sight of his fine toned ass leaning over the surfboard as he stretches on the beach. Her eyes linger on it, take not on the way he flexes and before she knows it, she’s clenching her thighs together as her finger on the glass follows the outline of those curves.

A knock on the door startles her and Ginny almost feels ashamed for indulging in such actions. She chastises herself and hurries to open the door, painstakingly aware of her damp panties.

The next couple of times the man appears on the beach and in Ginny’s line of sight happen to be a pure coincidence. She definitely tried to avoid him as much as possible but it seems like fate just didn’t want to oblige. And she has to admit - there’s just something about those waves and the way his body moves with them so gracefully.

The following week, Ginny makes sure to lounge on her terrace around the same time the surfer comes down to the beach. She puts on her shades and her wide brimmed sun hat, and pretends to read a book while drinking her ice-tea though her eyes wander to the water more times than she would like to admit. Whatever, she’s just appreciating the view.

In the following month, it becomes a sort of routine for her, so much so Ginny is surprised he’s not aware of her creepy, borderline stalkerish behaviour. It’s not like she’s hiding behind a tree or anything. She always lies on the beach chair, her shades and sun hat on. She even wears her favourite brightly coloured swimsuits, so there’s no fucking way he can’t at least catch a glimpse of her, taking in account how close to the beach her bungalow is.

She is getting frustrated because damn it, she wants him to notice her. Ginny is tired of ‘casually’ posing every single morning, hoping the guy would at least acknowledge her with a wave.

Nothing. Zero fucks given by him.

Fine. Who cares about some surfer dude? Wasn’t this suppose to be a ‘her time’?

She stops her surfer-watching sport and decides to dedicate time to herself, going on mani-pedis, massages, eating as much as she wants without anyone scolding her, watches old movies and cheesy rom-coms until the wee hours, and almost completely pushes the thoughts of the surfer guy aside. She goes to the beach when she’s sure he won’t be there because it’s better than clinging onto somebody she doesn’t even know.

She’s still sleeping, having drifted off to dreamland only three hours ago when a knock on the terrace door wakes her up. Still groggy from lack of sleep, barely able to open her eyes, Ginny pulls a yellow dress with white polka dots on them that’s hanging over the bathroom door     over her lithe frame and sleepily saunters to the door, fighting a yawn.

Her eyes pop open the second her brain registers the man in front of her, nervously biting his lip, his hands on his hips.

“Hey. So… I’ve been watching you on this terrace for the past month and a half and fuck, I’m sorry it took me this long to come up here, but I was wondering if you’d like to go out for a drink sometime. ”

Her mouth doesn’t work, like, at all. Ginny’s blinking at him, eyes wide, but no words are coming out.

The surfer dude is here! He’s right in front of her, sporting a five o’clock shadow and a grey Henley which does nothing but draw her attention to his huge biceps.

“Sorry, did I wake you? I know you’re usually up by now, that’s why I came…” he sounds unsure and starts to retreat starting Ginny into action.

“Hi, hi. Um, yeah. I was sleeping.”

He stops in his track and gives her s shy smile before pushing his hands in his pockets. “Sorry about waking you. I’m Mike, by the way.”

“Ginny,” she sways lightly on her toes, biting back a grin, because damn, he’s even better in person.

“So… about that drink… ”

“Umm, sure. Tonight?”

“Tonight. I’ll come pick you up,” he starts walking backwards smiling widely at her and Ginny can’t contain her own smile.

“Cool.”

“Cool.”

She closes the door, making sure Mike’s gone before she starts jumping on her bed like a love struck teenager.

The end :D

We're Getting Deeper in This Mess

word count: 2.2k

genre: more 2012 angst (there’s a happy ending dw)

warnings: swearing? sexual references??

summary: songfic based on the quiet by troye sivan. things end and so they remain quiet. it’s deafening, but they’re too scared to say anything, so they remain distant. 

a/n: I hate this fic so much but i haven’t published anything in a while so here’s a songfic :)

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Because there's too much (unwarranted, IMO) hatred against Moffat in recent years, I wanted to ask you what your favourite things he's done is. Such as structure, themes, characters, stories, whatever. One of mine is how he's embraced the more irrational aspects of storytelling. It's not about how it would play in real life, but about the characters. If we can believe them, we can believe the story. I'd elaborate more, but tumblr asks only allow so many characters haha.

ANON YOU FOUND MY KINK AND ITS POSITIVITY

seriously this is the kind of ask I was born to answer I’m so ready and by that I mean I’m going to actually get changed out of my work clothes and make a hot chocolate cos I have So Many Thoughts

*34 minutes later bc I started dancing to Hayley Kiyoko’s new EP in the kitchen*

I’m back and ready, and I’m even bringing proper punctuation to the table. Buckle in, kiddos.

Disclaimer: these are my (well informed) opinions, not blanket statements. Doctor Who is an incredibly subjective show, and in the face of the opposite, I try to avoid making objective comments because almost nothing about this show is inarguably anything.

I’m going to start with saying that my favourite thing he’s done is actually his own personal growth as a writer and person over the last decade. He’s actually taken on what people have said to him, and gone from someone who did maybe have some sexism issues in the past to someone pushing the blatant feminist agenda on Doctor Who that has so many whiny nerdboys complaining. He’s actively worked to increase diversity in the show since he realised that he was wrong in his naive assumption that open casting would do the trick. Like Peter, he’s just a nerd living his dream job except he likes being in the background and actually gives himself a lot less credit than is due. 

If more showrunners could actively listen and grow and work to better themselves the way Moffat has, we would see so much improvement in television and the industry itself. 

Now. Onto his actual work. In this particular case only talking about Doctor Who, a show that it doesn’t take itself too seriously, and the fact that Moffat doesn’t take himself too seriously is why it works. 

I can’t just pick one thing he’s done when it comes to this show, but I think I’ll focus on plot, themes, and characters. 

(Small note, as I nip back up here from further down: you’ll notice how this post has a kind of defensive undertone? That’s subconscious and automatic as I’m writing. Thank you, negativity spreaders, for ingraining the need to have to justify my love for the thing that got me through high school and is probably the only reason I’m mentally healthy.) 

Moffat’s themes:

To start with, I just want to mention the whole “fairytale” thing. I’m not really sure I’d call it a theme (actually, it is, for Amy’s character, but I’m talking more for his era in general), but his whole era has this kind of fairytale quality to it. Which is strangely uncommon for sci-fi, I think, given that wondrous new things is such a staple part of most works within the genre. But it just…fits Doctor Who so well. Because DW is a bit fanciful, and wondrous, and I love the awesome combination of fairytale/sci-fi that we think shouldn’t work but does. 

I’ve picked my three favourite themes of Moffat’s to talk about. (I would also like to say that I personally think he does the best thematic writing in DW so far.) 

Stories: This theme works so well because of the links to the three main ladies of his era, with Amy’s fairytale narrative, River’s diary in which she writes down her life with the Doctor, and Clara’s love for books and being an English teacher. Plus it’s always cool for the show to be able to comment on itself, especially with the main character being being a figure who comes with a story, the two most common being the unsung hero or the infamous renegade.

Names: The way the name theme in the Moffat era of Who (and actually Sherlock as well) is done would be fantastic in any show, but has so much more depth for a show whose main character is famous for going only by a singular title he chose himself. 

Hybrid: In addition to spawning a great meme, when viewed more seriously this theme is just so clever. It’s so relevant because of the duality in the Doctor’s life, especially in Series 9. Missy is enemy and friend. Clara was the Doctor’s salvation after losing the Ponds and River, but by the end of Series 9 has become a kind of destruction. The Doctor was also Gallifrey’s greatest embarrassment, destroyer, and saviour all at once.  

Moffat’s plots:  

Although I won’t go so far as to say that he does it the best (there’s probably a BF story that would prove me wrong even if I weren’t against the idea of “best” anything in a show this subjective), Moffat is one of the only writers who truly has the capacity to play with this show’s huge scope and pull it off as well as he does. He really has the “timey-wimey” knack that a lot of writers could only dream of possessing.

He plays a long game, and I think some of the reason that people take issue with his plot is that they don’t realise it’s not a plot hole if it just hasn’t been explained yet? 

Example: the fact that Eleven’s era never actually completely made sense until his very last episode. It made enough sense as it went for us to enjoy and move through it, but things like why the TARDIS exploded in the first place were big ??? until Time of the Doctor. 

His parallels are on a level of fantastic I don’t know I’ve seen anywhere else. See this post and the tags for a great example of this. 

And to anyone who tries to say that his plots are overcomplicated, I’m sorry but…they’re not, really? They’re as complicated as time travel should be, but not actually massively difficult to understand if you stop and think about it. I personally don’t need plots that join up every single dot for me, part of the fun is working out some of it for yourself and that’s always been something DW expects of us. Moffat’s adamant about not simplifying things for children because he knows that children are more onto it than a lot of adults. (I can’t stand people who act like children don’t understand shit, they understand almost everything and Moff knows this and writes accordingly.)

Another great Moffat thing is all the Classic Who references etc that he uses. Bringing back the Lethbridge-Stewart run UNIT and the Zygons and the Time Lords, it just makes it so enjoyable. 

A lot of hatred for him comes from a viewpoint where what RTD did is what DW is at a fundamental level. Which is just simply not true. For example, Torchwood’s cool and all, but UNIT is the crucial alien fighting force in this universe and it’s nice to see that very much the case again. 

(Pause to say that I am not in any way criticising RTD’s work or trying to make this a RTD vs Moffat thing. RTD did a lot of great stuff and I love his era. Like every other DW writer, he’s not perfect, but I’m a big fan. My issue is with people taking some of the things he did as law when it wasn’t and then having issue with Moffat deviating, when it was often a deviation back to something in the classic series.) 

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anonymous asked:

What is happening with junwoo and seunghoon at YG?

Jinwoo and Seunghoon have a long history of being pushed aside and ignored since before their debut. Jinwoo was the longest standing YG trainee (4 or so years) during the time of Who Is Next (WIN), a survival show where Winner (Team A) and iKON (Team B) competed to debut. Jinwoo had to endure 4 years of watching other trainees being dropped YG and was most probably under the immense fear of being dropped himself. He was mostly portrayed as one of the weaker links of Team A during WIN because of his lack of confidence. It could be said that YG treated him with some disdain, especially after an episode where YG trainees and JYP trainees competed in dancing, singing, rapping etc., Jinwoo forgot his lyrics to one of their songs. One thing that could be agreed upon though, to the consensus of both teams, is that Jinwoo was one of the hardest workers, sleeping the least out of all the trainees and training for the longest hours.

Seunghoon was a previous contestant on a variety show called KPOPSTAR, which has YGE representatives such as Psy, Se7en, and YG himself. While he did not ultimately win, he was accepted as a YG trainee. During WIN, he lived near the YG building just to “receive it’s energy.” He’s a great rapper and most importantly, a great choreographer. Seunghoon choreographed all of Team A’s dances and all of them were extremely different and creative - but he was rarely received due credit and admiration for his work. Seunghoon was and is the mood-maker of WINNER - he is fearless and direct. In the last episode of WIN, he raps about the cruelty and corruption behind forcing Team A and Team B, who are like brothers, to compete for their dreams. 

During WINNER’s hiatus (which was REALLY long for a group that had just debuted), Mino, Taehyun, and Seungyoon all did some solo-activities on various shows and dramas. However, Jinwoo had very little solo-activities (he did Flame with YGstage and filmed a drama for which there is no information on its release) while Seunghoon had none at all.

In a recent interview with W Korea, Seunghoon is quoted to say that every night he goes to bed wishing he was happy. He also was very blunt about his displeasure with WINNER’s hiatus. During Naver countdown for Pricked, each member was asked about what they did during their hiatus. Seungyoon said he was working on music and practising hard and improving as well as filming his drama. When Jinwoo was asked, he simply said “the same [as Seungyoon].” Hoon immediately interjected that Jinwoo actually just stayed in the dorm and watched television, just like he did. 

Seunghoon, and the rest of WINNER for that matter, looks very nervous and frustrated about their comeback. Seunghoon and Jinwoo have consistently been pushed to the side, not been given opportunities to show their skills, and not being given due credit for the skills they have shown. They are definitely the two most under-appreciated members of WINNER and it makes me very sad because they play such important roles and they deserve the world.

baloneyinterrogator  asked:

DJWifi (because there is a lack of this pairing), butterflies (the nervous kind, not akuma), level 2 Hope this is okay! Sorry if the prompt isn't that great, I had a hard time picking something.

Whoops! So, here goes my over-enthusiasticness in full gear XO The second I got this prompt, I immediately wrote up a quick breakdown of how I wanted it to go only to have that “quick breakdown” turn into something that is gonna be roughly 5,000 words once finished, so here’s Part 1. I’ll try and get Part 2(final part) posted tomorrow. Let me know what you think. Sorry, this part is pretty Adrienette heavy.

EDIT: Including link to Part 2.


“Alright, dude, I’m totally gonna do it.” Nino whispered, leaning closer to his best friend and deskmate.

“You got this, man!” Adrien quietly said back, pumping his fist to show his encouragement. Nino nodded and smiled in acknowledgement as the two boys bumped fists behind their raised books.

Suddenly, the bell rang, signaling the end of class, and just like that all of Nino’s previous courage was wiped away, replaced with what he could only describe as a serious case of the butterflies. His stomach felt like it was doing parkour tricks off his ribcage, his heart racing like he had just been running a marathon, his palms beginning to sweat profusely. This was a stupid idea, who thought of this stupid idea, this was never going to work.

“Dude? Helloooo?” Adrien waved a hand in front of Nino’s face, noticing the complete 180 in his friends demeanor. As he waited for his friend to return to this planet, Adrien saw the objective of the boys earlier ramblings already on her way out the door. “Nino, look! Alya’s leaving! It’s now or never!”

Snapping back to reality, Nino saw exactly that. The girl he’d been secretly pining for, the object of all his day dreams, walking out of their last class of the day, completely engrossed in a conversation with her best friend by her side. Quickly, he jumped out of his seat, jogging the few steps between his desk and the front door to the classroom and hoping, praying, that he had enough nerve to open his mouth when he got there.

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Honestly, Anon? I have no words. I… I can’t even begin to describe the beauty and genius of this new episode, so it took me a while to get around to answering your ask (I’m so sorry). But I guess it’s time for me to enumerate the things I liked about this ep:

1) Yuuri still hasn’t gotten over his previous screw-up in last year’s Nationals. And that’s only to be expected. Nobody gets over trauma like that easily. He’s a top skater, certified by the JSF (as he always likes to remind us and himself ).

His screw-ups also get worse in magnitude as he ages, because he has less and less time to make up for them in competition. Hence his extreme nervousness. Which is absolutely sound and realistic.

2) The way Yuuri deals with his anxiety and nerves is to block everyone out. That’s how he’s always done it before, and he does it again now, out of habit.

Victor notices, and is incredibly disappointed in how poorly Yuuri is dealing with his nerves, because he’s pretty sure that after months of training and boatloads of encouragement from Victor himself, Yuuri should know better than to shut people out by now.

But he hasn’t. Not yet, and not really, at least. It’s difficult to shed something that’s been a part of you ever since you can remember. Especially if it’s something that keeps rearing its ugly head every time the past is dredged up.

Again, this is totally grounded. So is the way Victor reacts.

I also want to point out how Yuuri is still pretty self-absorbed here, in how he reacts to Victor’s disappointment.
He doesn’t ask, “What made Victor say that?” or “What did I do exactly to make him say that?” He asks, “What about my own motivation that he just destroyed?” Obviously, Yuuri still isn’t used to thinking outside of himself just yet.
3) Yuuri may not be completely changed, but of course he isn’t. It’s only been what, five months since Victor came into his life and totally revamped his perspective? People can change, but they don’t change in a day. And that’s why I think the way Yuuri supports Minami is amazing in more ways than one.

Clumsy, without a lot of words doled out. Very Yuuri-like.

4) Minami Kenjiro was an absolute delight as a new character. He was refreshing, in that he was a fan of Yuuri, but wasn’t a blind one. The way he admires Yuuri is totally different from the way Yuuri admires Victor.

While Yuuri places Victor on a pedestal much higher up than himself, Minami believes that he can reach Yuuri, and doesn’t want Yuuri to look down on him, but rather at him. As an equal. As a rival.

5) Minami’s little cabaret-like program. I loved it. It was fantastic, and adorable, and fresh, and wonderful. It was just like him. And I appreciate how the show allotted him the time he deserved to perform it.

(also I’m a sucker for hyperactive smols with killer canines)
6) The Victuri moments and Yuuri’s confession on live TV. Obviously, we can’t overlook the beautiful moments these two skater dorks shared. From the chapped lips scene to the hug-from-behind, to the casual returned hug, to the “VICTOR!” hug, to the confession of the century, this episode really threw the fandom some fast and hard balls here. And we loved every bit of it.

Because the hugs are real.

Because Yuuri’s love is real.

I’ll be the 1000th person to say this but, Yuuri, you’ve gone a long way since your “holy shit pls don’t come so close to me” days.

And then we have the almighty confession.

He might have gone the roundabout way of saying it, but he did. He said that whatever bond he wanted to have or already had with Victor, was love. Finally, finally, he’s realising the kind of love and support that his family and friends have been giving him all these years. 

Finally, he’s having fun while he’s skating. Finally, he’s found someone who lets him see and feel all that love that he hasn’t been trying to see or feel all this time.

But most of all, underlining how “love” is a recurring theme in the series, Yuuri doesn’t take away the fact that it’s now a driving force of his career.

And even though he does, it’s not at all as cheesy as you might think. It’s believable. It’s organic. It’s real.

The series doesn’t simply present Yuuri and Victor on a silver platter. It shows us how far they’ve gotten, both of them. 

Victor, from being absorbed in his own lack of inspiration, to becoming a coach that strives to encourage and shape Yuuri into a “prince,” a man more deeply connected with someone instead of being that faraway “hottest bachelor on earth,” and an ex-pupil who finally knows what his own coach had to go through whenever he was rebellious.

Yuuri, from being stuck in his past and loneliness, unable to move forward because of his own insecurity and shame, to a skater more confident in himself and his skills, a man more confident in himself and his sexuality, and, simply, to a Yuuri that has fun when he’s doing something he loves.

They’ve changed so much since the first episode that I’m only looking forward to how much more they’ll change up until the season finale and, hopefully, beyond, too.


ALSO: a link to an awesome answer to the “did Yuuri mean ‘romantic’ love?” argument 

What’s this rolling down my face? Tears of disappointment? No, it’s -why it’s urine from where I’ve just dunked my whole head in the nearest toilet in an angry rage.
This is my message, and it’s for you, Supernatural writers.
I started being interested in Supernatural in May 2014, when I stumbled across a picture of Dean Winchester on a mainly Sherlock Instagram account I was following. Shortly afterwards, I watched a few episodes on E4, where they show episodes a season or so behind the ones coming out in the States. That’s the curse of being an English person watching American tv shows. At the time, they were showing season 9. I seem to remember the first one I saw was the one with those strange fat-sucking monsters, and Donna, ie. one of the two best sheriffs ever. Soon after that, I followed a number of Supernatural Instagram’s and Twitter’s, and I discovered this amazing thing, something I’d already half thought myself. Destiel.
The greatest love story never told.
Wanting to keep up with Season 10, I found a (not entirely legal) way of watching the new episodes as they aired. I developed a hatred for monster of the week episodes (good god, aren’t they awful?) and discovered more about these three amazing characters.
Sam, Dean, and Castiel. I don’t have a favourite out of Dean and Cas (sorry Sam, you’re in third-ish place, pal) and the dynamic between them fascinated me. At that point I was watching the show from an ‘outsider’ position; I followed a few fan accounts but not more than 3 or 4, I didn’t read or write fanfiction, I had no idea who played any of the characters (in the UK, if you say 'Misha Collins’ people just look at you blankly). I realised several things.
One: the eight seasons I’d missed clearly contained a LOT of either queer baiting or intentional romantic (sexual?) build up for the angel in the trenchcoat and the tough, domineering hunter.
Two: the whole show was like nothing I’d ever seen before. It had a truly 'American’ feel that I liked, despite being told as a child that McDonalds came from the States and therefore they were all EVIL.
Three: there were some very talented actors.
Four: there were some very talented writers. Certain episodes are gold, take, for example, the only episode not from in season 9, 10, or 11 that I’ve watched; The French Mistake.
After a while, I got more into the Supernatural fan base. Being a new fan in the black hole that is the Supernatural 'fandom’ is a bit like buying a horse; they hide all the bad bits, like bog spavins and partial blindness, until you get it vetted and you realise that the 'sound, good to box, show, and hack’ horse that you were going to buy is actually a 25 year old ex-riding school pony with cushings disease. What I mean, for those of you with no knowledge of horses, is that I didn’t see the bad bits at first. In an attempt to integrate, I made an anonymous fan account, not linked to my personal.
On the inside, I could see it all; the vicious fights about ships, the insults towards fans and cast that frankly bordered on abuse and harassment, and the way in which some people were just so rude and appallingly ignorant of how far their words could travel in the great expanse of the Internet. #SPNfamily. Yeah, right.
But I also discovered the other side of it; the brilliant weirdness that is Misha Collins, the kindness and incredible acting of Jensen Ackles, the caring and sharing nature of Jared Padalecki, and the rest of the cast, leads, regulars and all, from Kathryn Newton to Kim Rhodes to Mark Pellegrino. Also the creativity of the fans, I saw, was novel.
Season 11 took too long to arrive. One long summer of sweating (I dislike the heat) and then, it finally arrived with a couple of episodes which I enjoyed, not because of any good writing, but simply because I was so pleased to see the cast back on the screen. The Darkness (not the band) was an idea I didn’t like. The first episode saw Cas under Rowena’s spell, and Dean meeting the overtly sexualised Amara. It was then we all felt that this wasn’t going to go well. The next few episodes were all right; the zombie things and all that stuff at the hospital was great, and I actually thought it was going somewhere. Silly me. Then Sam cured himself with a burning marshmallow and it all seemed to get forgotten. The best episode came next, my favourite episode I ever watched; 11x4, The Bad Seed. Directed by Jensen, with Dean and Sam working together to save Cas, I thought it was all fixed and they’d spend the rest of the season together. It was a Destiel heaven, that ep, and directed by Jensen himself. I was insanely excited.
The reaction from some 'Wincest’ (If there’s one thing I can’t stomach it’s incest.) fans was to abuse Jensen’s Twitter, and complain they wanted 'more bros’. The only way you could get more bros in that show would be to have 49 minutes of them sitting in the Bunker doing case research. What show have they been watching? I felt hopeful though, as that scene where Cas was cured was brilliant (that face touch. Give me a shoulder to cry gently onto). Baby was another episode that I really liked. It was funny and inclusive. Whoever wrote that deserves a medal. The comments from certain people about that episode made me want to ban anyone from using the words 'brothers’ and 'supernatural that we know and love’ in the same sentence, though.
Then we get to Plush. Despite it being a monster of the week episode, I really enjoyed the idea that was 'toyed’ with there. I love clowns. I’m not going to lie; the creepier the better. It was a filler episode that wasn’t a pointless one to fill up the season.
Just My Imagination was good too. Funny, cute, and interesting for Sam’s storyline, which has been one of the only things worth watching this season.
Now though we have this train-wreak, this atrocity, this disgusting piece of badly written and created television.
I have several issues with it. Firstly, the title. Oh Brother Where Are Thou? Are you kidding me? Make it You, to start with, if you’re not going to use Art instead of Are. It sounds wrong. Also, which brother are they referring to? No time was spent where one was looking for the other, except about 20 seconds of Sam ringing Dean and him not answering because he was too busy off snogging Gods bloody sister, the Darkness who’s probably killed roughly 100 people by now.
That’s the bit that made me really angry. We saw Amara grow from a tiny baby, become steadily more sexualised, and now, when she’s fully grown, she makes out with Dean. It’s disgusting. I’ve got nothing against Emily Swallow, in fact I think she’s a good actor, but this? It shows a lack of consent and, worse, proves what I’ve been trying to ignore ever since I started watching Supernatural; Dean is a shallow character, driven by a need for both control and acceptance, and governed only by his massive sexual appetite.
You can forget about it in his tender moments, like when he saves innocent people, sacrifices his life for his brother and the world, when he says “Cas!”, his voice cracking slightly with fear and a submerged need. But I can see it painfully clearly now. The writers have written him to destruction.
It ties back to the 200th episode. It seemed good at first, a shoutout to the large and passionate fan base, but then, when you look into it you realise it’s almost mocking. “You can have your version of things, but we won’t listen or put it in the show. Hell no. We’ll humour you with this episode, and then we’ll be back to ignoring you.” Now, we see that, although they all know what a majority of the 'online’ fan base wants, and must be aware of how they’ve written and acted the last 8 seasons, they continue to write Cas-less episodes and do nothing with the build up they’ve spent years either intentionally or accidentally creating. And this with Amara. It’s like they’re trying to cover their ears, sing lalalalala very loudly and feast their eyes on that hetero kiss they’ve shoved down our throats. Because Destiel will never be canon, and this is something I know almost for certain. The truth is sad, and yet it exists. I wish it didn’t, but it does. It’s not because of homophobia. I don’t think any of the the writers are homophobic, but it’s just something they’ll never do, because they’ll risk upsetting their 'floating viewers’, the ones that make all the difference to the ratings and viewings. Also, they’ll upset the minority. Remember the way in which the photographs of Jensen and Misha play fighting and the paragraphs about them on the convention website were taken down when some fans complained? They were replaced by a photo of Jensen and Jared, with a separate one of Misha.

I’d just like to credit the outstanding acting of Mark Pellegrino for Lucifer. He really saved the ep, and I think he may have been channeling the 'spirit’ of a certain joker. (Obviously you can’t channel spirits. They don’t exist. I know that.) Also I’d like to commend the excellent acting of Mark Sheppard and Ruthie Connell. And, although they are in very few eps, Kim Rhodes and Briana Buckmaster (is that spelt right?) on their great characters.

It’s time, writers. Do something, something big, something new. Surprise me. It’s a challenge, you know. You’ve spat on my last remaining hope for the show. Now you need to hand me the sanitiser to wipe it off.
And now, as this took me over two hours and a lot of neck clicking to write, I’d appreciate a read and a reblog. Cheers.

Supernatural writers: Make Destiel canon. I dare 'ya.