Honestly, If Donald Had To Die For The Sake Of The Plot, The Truck Was Not The Way To Go. He Could've

HC about

Enemies to lovers with the union guys 😭🙏

(You can do other characters in Weak hero, up to ya)

hiii! I'm so sorry I'm answering so late and, well, so little. but i felt like writing something and had a bit of time to do it for the first time in a while, so... yknow, i thought a little something is better than nothing, lol. ahhh and i kind of thought these asks fit really well together, so here we are i guess :) also I'm not sure if it can be described as enemies to lovers, cuz it's a very slowburn trope, so it's more like enemies to... something? I'd love to do more characters sometime, but i cannot imagine when lol. ah and thank you so much for sending an ask with one of my favourite tropes! wishing all of you a nice day 💙💙💙

Enemies to lovers

(Dongha Baek, Wolf Keum)

Dongha Baek

it doesn't start with outright enemies, not really. dongha hears of you first and cannot help but imagine how fun it would be to put you in your place, to see that calm and collected look vanish from your face, changing to anguish, humiliation, fear.

you're a rich kid. you don't need to flaunt it around for him to notice your clothes, casually expensive, either famous brands or handmade eco stuff, to notice your calm demeanor, the nicest perfume he ever got to inhale, the easy way you pay for shit - not looking at the price tag, never haggling, never getting off your high horse.

he hates people like you. what the fuck are you even doing in that got forsaken gang of losers? that's what he'd asked, if he didn't know for sure. you're simply enjoying playing with other people, flaunting your money around, looking down on shitheads ready to do anything to acquire the kind of power you were blessed with from birth.

how he'd love to remind you of your place. sure, you're rich, but he knows from experience how weak rich people truly are. how easily they break, how easily they start trying to buy you, to buy their dignity back with their money. perhaps he should let himself be bought this time, after he gets his fun. then he can play with you again later.

your gang was at the unions throat for a while now, and the fact that you still weren't destroyed was telling. it was telling one thing to most people, but the thing it was telling to dongha baek was: you sorely need to be reminded of your place.

it started like many gang fights do. a bit of shit talking, hands in their pockets, eyes gleaming with malice and mischief. you were in this business for enough time to know where it was going, and while dongha was talking you were silently getting ready.

his first swing was expected, so was the second. he wasn't entirely easy to read, but there was something else - some recklessness, wildness to his moves that set you on edge. he also laughed - all the time. startled laughter when you almost got him, raspy chuckle when you did get him, high pitched ringing laughter when it was you groaning in pain and not him. he was constantly mocking at first, the neverending shit talk, but as the fight continued, there were less and less words.

you were weird. there was something about your eyes, something about your bloody smile that didn't add up with everything he's seen of you till now. there was some hunger in you, some spite buried deep behind your polite smile. some genuine, impossible to fake strength. power.

there wasn't a clear winner that day, and you remember talking shit to each other lying on cold concrete with no strength to get up. you think it was fun and then you think you must've hit your head.

you sure start to see each other more often after that. in the streets, when you're going around for business and when you're resting. he's always trying to get you angry, to start some shit, and sometimes you deflect with polite phrases hiding a biting insult under the surface, sometimes you end up fighting it out.

it's stupid. you feel stupid every time you meet him, like some part of your brain - the reasonable, calm, smart part - shuts off when you see his shit eating grin. you're letting yourself get angry. you're letting yourself get reckless.

you should stop.

you seek him out yourself, ready to put an end to this nonsense. you start it this time, for the first time in forever. he's laughing and talking shit again, and you let it get under your skin despite yourself.

you scream for the first time in forever. it's an ungodly, impolite, weird, embarrassing sound. it's loud and wild. you're screaming and kicking and biting like an animal, because you're furious at that bastard, that pathetic fiend, and you are - you'd let him get under your skin - and you are - in love.

you think it, and it's ringing so terribly final in your head you start laughing.

dongha finally understands, and he laughs with you.

Wolf Keum

you're everything wolf has ever hated. a weak loser acting tough until it's time to get behind your words, to prove yourself. a small time criminal, freelancer on the dark side, kissing Donald's ass right after sweet-talking the union's enemies into a nice deal. two-faced liar and a coward.

wolf cannot help himself when he sees you. how can you act so confident, how can you run your fucking mouth so smoothly when you know - by experience - how it feels to be completely broken down?

by him, nonetheless.

you were (supposed to be) just another one of wolf's many victims. just another one lying before him, all bloody and broken, bloody mouth, broken breath, broken bones for sure, red and beneath the red - yellow and rose blooming into majestic purple. swollen face, swollen hands.

you were - all broken. but you were not - just another one.

you never stopped. you never let what was done to you stop you, you never even truly changed your tactics. you knew no shame. it was so disgusting, so infuriating to wolf that at some point it started to be fun.

every time he needed to do business with you he couldn't pass the chance to play. to remind you: you are weak. worthless. he could tear you up right then and there, and there'd be nothing you could do to stop him.

sometimes it was mild humiliation. some talking down, "remember what fun we had together?", "wanna repeat?", spit on your shoulder, sometimes on your face. other times he's more hands on: grabbing you by the collar of your shirt, snarling in your face, "perhaps i should bite your lips off. would be hard lying without them". and then there are times when he makes you hold his glasses and - "come on. stare at me like you did just now. don't you dare looking away from me, you dipshit" - puts his hand on your throat and squeezes.

you deal with a lot of assholes. it's basically the job description. but none of those other assholes are wolf keum. you've learned to be cold and hard and perfectly smooth like a pebble in the river. do not give a reaction. do not stop smiling. do not take sides. do not go down. do not - the list goes on. you have to be perfect. you have to survive.

wolf never fails to remind you how far from perfect you actually are.

you do not give him any reaction you are able to mask or subdue. it's never anything more than the slightest shiver, the smallest tick - but that's enough. wolf looks intently, and he sees. he grins like a mad dog that needs to be put down.

you do not go after him yourself. you're not that stupid, or brave, or self-assured. no, you do what you do best - you talk to people, you make deals, you exchange one favour for another, until it all falls into place.

you make other people go after him. the strongest guys you were able to talk into it from all over Seoul. all of it, except for the yeongdeungpo. they go, and you wait anxious and excited for the results. when there's finally a phonecall, you take it immediately.

then you hear his voice. it's gruff and low. it says "stay where you are. we'll meet soon enough".

he sends you the photos before coming, before you're able to decide what to do. the photos are shaky and bloody and your stomach turns when you look at them.

and then comes wolf. he's bloody and beaten too, perhaps even more than the guys on the photos, but you know him and he knows you know him: he's a fucking zombie, and he won't let his current condition stop him.

he also knows you. he knows that slightest shiver, that smallest tick. he knows what to expect, he readies himself for your blabbering, for your fucking lies - but you don't open your mouth. not this time.

you ready your fists, and wolf chokes on his laughter. he seems excited, indignant, startled. tired. he's beaten down - but you know that if he grabs you it will be the end. if the punch goes through - it will hurt. so you don't let him grab you or hit you for as long as you can. you find a wire and wrap it around his throat, ready to kill. he grabs you then. he punches you, and it seems you forgot how much it could hurt. it's terrible. you do not let go of the wire though, and the punches become rarer and weaker and then they stop.

wolf doesn't talk to you after that. he lets his minions do his business, and you don't see him for weeks. until suddenly you do.

you prepare for the worst, but he doesn't make a move aside from dragging a cig to and from his lips, inhaling and exhaling the smoke. watching you watching him. there's something new in his eyes - something different from the familiar sick amusement and rage and boredom. something softer, gentler - not like plush or clouds, but like a green sprout only starting to grow, easy to destroy, to kill.

you take a step in his direction, then another one, and another, until you're standing side by side. close. too close. when wolf offers you a cigarette, you take it before you think better. the cigarette is way too strong and bitter, and yet somehow you do not mind.

The images that Israel claims are of fighters arrested and stripped in Gaza include a journalist and his family, two teenage boys, one United Nations employee, and the director of an UNRWA school.

Chain of Command Chapter 6

The elevator ride down was dead quiet. Forrest and Robin walked silently, faces turned towards the ground. She suspected that the two were embarrassed by the ordeal on the rooftop.

Standing at the doorway of the building was Grape, the pile of cigarette butts at his feet having doubled since she last saw him. She’d bumped into him on her way up to the rooftop, and she didn’t need to look at the ground to tell that he’d been stress smoking. The boy reeked of smoke. 

She’d regarded him with a click of her tongue and a small look of sympathy before rushing upstairs– she supposed hearing the words ‘Wolf Keum’ alone were already enough to give him a panic attack. Poor baby. 

“What did that fucker say?” Grape cut through the thick silence, returning to his position behind Forrest as he shoved his hands into his pockets, the expression on his face making it obvious that he only expected the worst. Not that she blamed him.

“The money and files got stolen.” Forrest informed him, and Grape nodded soundlessly. Had it been someone else he might’ve made a derisive joke, but he seemed to be worried that if he even opened his mouth, Wolf Keum would swoop down like an eagle and swallow him whole. Maybe he just didn’t want to take the risk.

The four of them continued to walk quietly, before Forrest Lee spoke again. Perhaps he’d wanted to break the silence, or perhaps he’d just been waiting till they were a safe distance away from Ganghak to talk. 

“So you’ll be working with that bastard from now on, huh Bambi?” Forrest glanced to the side to look at her, and she studied his face. He looked grim, though she thought she could spot a hint of relief too. He was probably just glad he didn’t have to face the Big Bad Wolf alone anymore.

“Yeah.” She slowed down as the quartet reached a bus stop, and the three boys stopped with her. Her bus was already there, slowing down as it reached the stop. “I’m gonna go now. Bye.” 

She barely heard the perfect sync of goodbyes from the boys as she turned around, long brown hair swishing behind her, and stepped onto the vehicle.

~

It’d been about an hour since this meeting had started, and Bambi was starting to get restless. The last sixty minutes, she’d been standing behind Donald’s armchair,  watching as he talked to the new client sitting across from them. 

The new business partner was another wrinkly man in his sixties with a failing business, desperate for Donald’s help. The news of KHG’s big break had spread through the grapevine, and now businessmen were swarming around Donald like he was the second coming of Christ. Because of that, they’d seen a pretty large increase in their commissions. What a blessed new year.

The old man seemed to be wrapping the meeting up now, sticking his hand out to Donald, both anxiety and excitement displayed on his face at the idea of all the money he was about to make. 

She didn’t pay further attention to any of the other words exchanged between the two, turning her focus instead to the clock on the wall (9pm) and both her mental and physical exhaustion. Thank God it’s finally over. Kingsley, who had stood by her side until now, followed the man on his way out to guide him downstairs, leaving Donald and Bambi alone behind him.

The room fell silent after the door snapped shut.

Bambi tapped her foot nervously.

Usually she preferred silence, but with Donald the quiet always felt suffocating. Like even breathing would make an avalanche of noise. Like there were a thousand thoughts running through his head at once, and she was missing out on every single one of them.

Donald didn’t seem to be bothered by the lack of noise though, standing up and making his way to the other side of the office wordlessly. Bambi leaned back to rest her body weight on the chair, watching as he stood in front of the large window, his hands clasped behind his back. 

Perhaps to a bystander, it may have seemed like he was admiring the view. But she didn’t need to look to know that he was watching her in the reflection, his red eyes trained on her like a hawk. Staying as still as possible under Donald’s gaze proved to be a challenge, and she found herself fiddling with her fingers anxiously as she forced herself to meet his gaze in the glass.

She felt like he knew that he was torturing her with his silence– like he enjoyed her attention, enjoyed watching her hang on to his every movement, waiting for more.

After all, all she wanted was to know him better.

Ever since she first joined the Union, she’d felt an unexplainable magnetic pull towards Donald Na. It was as if he were the sun, and she was just a small insignificant dwarf planet rotating around him. 

He had charisma, and what seemed like infinite confidence capable of making even her nervous. From the moment she’d first set eyes on him, she’d made it her lifelong goal to unravel the mystery of who Donald Na really was.

Plus, Donald was nice, which made it easier. Not nice in the way where he’d hold open doors for you or smile at you in the street, but where he’d make small talk and pretend to care about your personal life. Not that she was stupid enough to actually mistake this for friendship– he did this with everybody, even the executives he beat up. Just another thing that came built in with his alluring personality– but it opened up a door for her to actually know him. The person past the intimidating stare and massive displays of wealth that she now realised looked a lot like a form of protection.

She relished in the attention that he gave her, though admitting it made her feel somewhat embarrassed. It was like she’d deciphered a puzzle no one else could solve, except she was really only halfway to the answer– even after all the time they’d spent together, it still felt like she’d barely scraped the surface of who Donald Na really was. Well, she wasn’t gonna stop now.

No matter how much it went against her better judgement.

“It’s late. You should go home.” Donald had finally looked away from her, his attention turned to the streets below, and she felt a pang of jealousy. The tone he’d used was casual enough, but she knew the statement was more than a simple formality.

So, instead of saying her goodbyes, she walked towards his desk slowly, almost defiantly, fighting the urge to smile as his eyes finally left the window and followed her across the room till she was right behind him. 

Dragging out the silence, she spoke slowly. “What about you?”

Donald turned slightly at her question, and his red eyes glinted, as if he was amused by her deliberate slowed pace. Often, she went so quick everybody around her found it hard to keep up. But when it came to Donald, it felt like she had to go slow, or she’d miss out something essential and never catch up. She knew he knew it too.

She stopped herself from huffing. Not her fault being around him felt like walking in a minefield. He let out a small breath of air, deadpan expression melting into a smirk. She wanted to ask him what he thought was so funny.

“I have work to do.” 

Both pairs of eyes flicked down to the stack of files on his desk, and Bambi nodded in understanding. It wasn’t rare to see Donald working late into the night, a small frown on his face as he read through reports and legal documents, and who knows what else. Sometimes he fell asleep at his desk, head resting on his arms, a rare moment of vulnerability for someone as vicious as Donald Na.

“Would you like tea? Or coffee?” Bambi was already turning towards the door, though her eyes stayed fixed on him.

Donald smiled, tapping on his desk.

“Coffee will do.”

My dad and I once had a disagreement over him using the adage "What doesn't kill you makes you stronger."

I said, "That's just not true. Sometimes what doesn't kill you leaves you brittle and injured or traumatized."

He stopped and thought about that for a while. He came back later, and said, "It's like wood glue."

He pointed to my bookshelf, which he helped me salvage a while ago. He said, "Do you remember how I explained that, once we used the wood glue on them, the shelves would actually be stronger than they were before they broke?"

I did.

"But before we used the wood glue, those shelves were broken. They couldn't hold up shit. If you had put books on them, they would have collapsed. And that wood glue had to set awhile. If we put anything on them too early, they would have collapsed just the same as if we'd never fixed them at all. You've got to give these things time to set."

It sounded like a pretty good metaphor to me, but one thing I did pick up on was that whatever broke those shelves, that's not the thing that made them stronger. That just broke them. It was being fixed that made them stronger. It was the glue.

So my dad and I agreed, what doesn't kill you doesn't actually make you stronger, but healing does. And if you feel like healing hasn't made you stronger than you were before, you're probably not done healing. You've got to give these things time to set.

liar i am a liar

i'm eleven chapters into a weak hero fanfic but i'm not posting it until i can think of a name

Incredibly specific moments in atla i think about ALL the time (i am Not normal)

Zuko's eyes slightly widening when witnessing Katara's bloodbending for the first time

Aang and Katara just missing each other looking back at the other after their argument in The Warriors of Kyoshi

Toph holding onto Sokka's arm once on Appa when he didn't have a saddle and once on the boat bringing them to the lake town

The moon being in full view as Suki tries to kiss Sokka in the Serpent's Pass, and the shadow returning as Sokka leaves

The "four seasons for love" motif coming back throughout the episodes of the Northern Watertribe and specifically as Sokka gives himself up to serve in the battle against Zhao's seige and Yue turns away and quietly cries as she watches him walk off

Longshot talking for the first time ever as Jet lay dying

In that same breath, the way Toph says "he's lying" as they walk away from Jet knowing that he's going to die

Aang looking back at the Southern Airtemple ruins along with Momo as they fly away from it, seeing it disappear behind the clouds (this one specifically makes me cry so much)

The chants as Aang gets summoned by the Lion Turtle in book 3 being the SAME as the chants when Aang fuses with the ocean spirit in book 1 (there's other moments with these chants i think but i can't remember them off the top of my head)

Aang taking down Ozai's airship in the finale as his first attack and Sokka cheering him on like a proud older brother

Katara immediately without a shadow of a doubt responding "Aang won't lose" when Zuko questions if he'll be able to take on Ozai

Aang knowing Zuko was gonna fire at him in the crystal catacombs as soon as Zuko laid eyes on him (he gasped before Zuko even made a move) when even Azula wasn't sure what Zuko was gonna do in that scenario

i love finding poetry in the mundane, and yesterday i stumbled upon something that just hits that spot

So, my partner has an old phone- It served them for many years now, but it has one issue: Charging it is hard. Their current charger is hanging on by a thread (literally), and can barely do its job. The phone and the charger came together: They've never used another charger for said phone.

Now, they've tried to replace the charging cord several times. But it doesn't matter how much they've searched what damned specific charger the phone uses, none of them work. They finally decided to bring it to a phone shop and ask what should they use.

The guy at the shop looked at the phone for a bit, and explained: "The port itself is broken. The charger you have works with this phone because they've mutually broken each other into the same shape, in a way that no other charger is shaped. The port itself has corroded in a way that only accepts the charger that shaped it like that in the first place."

And while this is of course a frustrating situation for my partner, I feel like there's a metaphor here. I could write a goddamn story about this. These two half-broken old things have been together for so long they've destroyed each other in a way that keeps them from working with anything else. They've hurt each other in a way that barely keeps them functioning together, and have been rendered useless with literally anything else.

This too is toxic yuri to me-

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ristay

The horribly awkward, unique and embarrassing stories of ristay.

are you fucking kidding me