#(the culprit had one of their blogs follow this one for a while too and that got me like this: 😬)

[expvrgction]

(that was a MASSIVE Bullet (Train) Dodge™ if I ever did one)

[missmonsters2]

—AMBEDO | NINE

Pairing: Wednesday Addams x OFC/Fem!Reader

Summary: You've been taken from right under Wednesday's nose. Finding you is a given, but it's really a question of who is saving whom. Wednesday shouldn't be surprised that she's complete entranced by the sight of a fallen faerie.

Warnings: canon level violence. long villain monologues. Enid & gang doing their best.

Series Masterlist | Library Blog | AO3

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Note: just two killer gfs 🫶 also i can't believe the next chapter is the last one 😳

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Part Eight

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Ambedo: Noun. a kind of melancholic trance in which you become completely absorbed in vivid sensory details—raindrops skittering down a window, tall trees leaning in the wind, clouds of cream swirling in your coffee—which leads to a dawning awareness of the haunting fragility of life, a mood whose only known cure is the vuvuzela.

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Wednesday touches item after item in your studio. She holds whatever Thing passes her and tosses it when nothing happens. Wednesday knows she can't force a vision, but that doesn't stop her from trying. Her hands run along the ground, trees, and furniture. 

Something—anything in this forsaken room should give her a clue as to what happened to you or where she could find you. 

"Wednesday?"

The voice was quiet, timid even. 

Wednesday doesn't need to turn to know who it is. She grabs one of your books, gripping it with force, willing a vision to happen. When it doesn't, Wednesday tosses it aside. "What is it, Enid?" She asks, her voice flat but frustration laced around her tone. 

"I've got everyone spread out and looking around," Enid updates. "I texted Ajax, and he's got some of his friends out searching too."

Wednesday merely nods tersely. 

"I'm going with Yoko to search, but I just wanted to tell you something before I left," Enid bit her lip. 

Wednesday turns, her eyes boring into Enid's with a dark intensity that her roommate is both used to and still finds unsettling. "Go on."

"I—" Enid sighs lightly. "I didn't want to say this in front of everyone else in case I was wrong, but I'm pretty sure now. I can smell someone else in here. The scent is stale like yours and Fae's, but it's a little stronger, more recent."

"Who else was in here, Enid?" Wednesday demands immediately. While certain people knew you had a studio, no one except Wednesday knew where it was. 

"Um," Enid murmurs, her brows furrowing. "That guy—the one who's always around Fae. Yoko said his father is an alumnus here. Harry?"

"Henry," Wednesday seethes, her eyes flashing and jaw clenched.

"Yes, him!" Enid exclaims. "Yoko and I are going to see if we can find him, but if we can't..." The words drag, but Wednesday already knows the truth of it. 

If they couldn't find Henry, then they'd found their culprit. 

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Enid: can't find him.

Enid: roommate says he hasn't seen him at all today and said he's been barely in his room. He usually apparently only returns around 1 to 2am lately.

Enid: I'm gonna search around in my wolf form with yoko. She'll text u with my phone with any updates.

Enid: also the black fuzzy blanket you had earlier in our room is gone. Did you take it?

Wednesday doesn't reply and clicks her phone to turn off the screen before putting it back into her pocket. 

1 to 2AM was when the two of you finished your nightly meet-up.

Wednesday definitely didn't move the blanket. Her eyes look back to the blanket in question. She recalls you telling her that Henry was a psychic who could create things. And based on what she's deduced so far, he could materialize his mindscapes into reality, but it seems that anything taken out of his mindscape couldn't last for prolonged hours if he wasn't focusing on it. 

Wednesday has touched everything inside this studio, and nothing has conjured a vision. It leads her to believe that you weren't taken in your studio. She exits and begins to look around. 

The first thing she noticed now that she was not blinded with rage and panic when she first searched for you was one of the tree trunks partially rotten. It was hard to tell with it being so dark, but Wednesday could spot the strange shape of the rot. She walks over to it and finds a single black feather resting on the ground directly underneath. 

Wednesday bends down to grab the quill of the feather, and the live wire shredding at her skin comes forth.

Wednesday sees you walking out of your studio. The day has rewound, and the sun is only starting to set. 

You look happy, with a serene smile and a single feather in your hand. But only after a few steps out do you tilt your head and refuse to take a step further.

Wednesday can hear it from your perspective. The way the wind oddly ruffles the leaves. There's a certain discomfort in her spine. 

"Who's out there?" Wednesday watches you call out and place the hand on the tree trunk. "You can't hide from me in the forest and whatever trap you've set, I can sense it."

There's a moment of tense silence, but you refuse to budge. 

A twig snaps as someone moves behind a tree. 

Henry steps out, and you relax slightly but keep her hand on the trunk.

"Henry," you look confused. "Why are you following me?"

"Well, this is annoying," Henry sighs. "You didn't notice the mindscape of your studio, but now you won't step into the new one I made? I wonder if it's because Wednesday's energy is so intertwined with the studio one I made. You lower your guard down so much when she's around," he hums. 

You look wary. "What do you want?"

"I want you to follow me," Henry smiles, but his eyes are hidden, and you can't determine his full expression. "Quietly."

"What are you talking about?" You frown at him. 

"Your wings," Henry says in a cavalier tone. "I need your wings. So, I need you to come with me to Crackstone's crypt so I can perform the ritual there. I still have some things to prep, but if you go to meet with Wednesday for your date, I'll miss my chance and the sap wont be potent anymore."

As you step back, you narrow your eyes at him, full-on in defensive mode. You're opening your mouth to say something, but Henry pulls out a small blowgun and shoots a needle that lands right into your neck. 

You stagger, hand at your neck to pull out the needle, and you instantly know it's made out of draeconium. You slump to your knees first before falling onto your front completely, groaning. 

Henry approaches with a syringe filled with a cobalt teal liquid. He steals you away, and all that's left is your feather and the rot you placed in the trunk.

Wednesday returns to reality, her hand on the trunk and the grip of your feather in her other hand. She pulls out her phone, typing a quick message to Enid before she takes off.

Wednesday: Meet me at Crackstone's crypt. 

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The room was dimly lit by candles. Where Crackstone's crypt used to be now stood a giant rectangle stone table. There were inscriptions carved into the table, and Wednesday knew immediately that it was a ritual for your wings.

Wednesday's eyes lay upon your limp form lying in the middle of the table. There was a chained collar around your neck bolted to the table. It was only long enough to likely let you sit up, but no further than that. She can see your body rising and falling with each breath, and there's a sense of relief. She's about to walk to you and wake you up when someone steps out of the shadows.

"I didn't think you'd actually find us."

That lanky, stuttering boy. Except he wasn't stuttering now. Wednesday's uncontrollable rage simmers inside her, but she tempers it. She needs to be rational if she wants to save you. 

Henry's long fringe normally covers his eyes, but tonight, they're pushed out of his face, combed stylishly over his head. It was no wonder that he covered his eyes, Wednesday thought. They would draw too much attention with their pale silvery glassy look. His eyes lacked pupils, but Wednesday was sure they were why he had such powers. 

"Of course, I'd find you," Wednesday sneers at him. "Only a moron would come back to Crackstone's crypt. How unoriginal."

Henry smiles at her, and it's utterly disgusting. "I suppose after your glory stories of last year, I expected you would and that you'd come here stupidly alone."

"I don't need a group to make you wish you were never born," Wednesday's face was stoic. "What exactly can you do? Your little tricks won't work on me now that I know what you can create. It's not real."

Wednesday takes a step closer, but Henry pulls out a knife. The blade was a pale pearl white with ridges, and the handle was made from wood. There was no doubt it was made from draeconium.

"Move any closer, and I'll plunge this right into her," Henry threatens. "I only need her alive, she doesn't need to be unharmed."

There's a moment that Wednesday hesitates, thinking about her chances. She has a knife in her own boot that she could use to cut his throat. But Wednesday eventually decides against it as she doesn't know where he might stab you and if it'll accidentally be fatal. He looks like an idiot.

Wednesday's eyes trail to you. Even though you're unconscious, your wings are slowly appearing from your back, unfurling slowly, and you haven't moved one bit. She eyes the chain in detest and wills you to wake up to no avail.

"I know her wings are injured, but I'm pretty cautious," Henry sighs but doesn't relax his form as he turns to point the knife at her. "I can't risk her potentially flying."

"What did you do to her?" Wednesday demands, her stance tense as she keeps a distance from the boy. "Why isn't she waking up?"

"She won't," Henry shakes her head. "I know she's told you about how draeconium sap can cut her wings out, but they can do so, so much more."

"Makes me wonder why she didn't tell you. Maybe she doesn't trust you as much as you think." Henry smirks at her. "Draeconium petals can be crushed into a powder and mixed into a liquid that will put faeries to deep sleep. It's poisonous and makes their body numb and unable to control their movements."

That would explain why your wings were coming out.

"How did you find out where we were?" Henry narrows his eyes at her. "I hear you're a witch, but I have yet to see you do anything amazing. If anything, you're insufferable."

"Thank you."

"You're always hanging around her, hovering like a goddamn vulture," Henry huffs. 

"Flattery won't get you anywhere," Wednesday raises her brow. 

Henry rolls his eyes. "I thought for sure her fae abilities would catch me following her around. At first, I couldn't get too close without her constantly turning around and nearly catching me. Before you started to get closer to her, I was trying to figure out for weeks where she was going every single day and night."

Henry smiles lightly at her. "The night you followed her after the siren's party, she heard both you and I were following her. But for some reason, she dismissed it and kept going. Your presence has always masked mine perfectly."

Then he smiles haughtily at her, his eyes filled with malice. "Thank you, Wednesday. Because of you, I was able to get closer to Fae without her noticing. And since then, the two of you haven't even noticed you've been in and out of my mindscapes for months."

Wednesday thinks back to the night she first followed you to your studio. You had turned around, and Wednesday thought it was her, but it was probably Henry you'd sensed. But her presence distracted you, and you kept going. 

She thinks back to Parents' Day and how she couldn't find you anywhere. She had gone to her room first to change before looking. Yet, you told her you'd been in her room waiting for half an hour.

Wednesday recalls the time you came to meet her, saying you just came from seeing Henry, but he couldn't conjure anything. But he had, and you just couldn't tell you were already experiencing it.

Wednesday thinks back to the day before the Poe Cup Race and how the three of you had been standing in the hallway. She had heard footsteps, but when she turned around, it was just Henry sitting at one of the arches. Those footsteps were probably from the outside of the mindscape. 

Wednesday grinds her teeth, keeping her mouth shut as she looks around the room for anything she can use. Her phone is in her pocket, and she can tell Enid has likely been sending her messages incessantly by the sporadic vibrations. Wednesday hopes that Enid will call her so she can try to pick it up, keeping it open in her pocket before she starts spouting things that will tell Enid where she is. 

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"This is weird," Enid mutters. "This is the crypt, isn't it?"

"It should be," Xavier looks around. "Something feels off, though."

Yoko is walking around, her glasses are off, and she looks up to see the moon. "This isn't right. Something feels wrong," Yoko says as she turns to the group. "This moonlight feels synthetic. It's making my eyes hurt."

Bianca looks around. "Henry was a psychic, right? What classes was he taking?"

"Um," Enid thinks of some of the classes they shared, but it was generic. Then she snaps her fingers. "Oh! He was taking psychitech! You know, the class where you can use your psychic powers to build things."

"What if this is one of them?" Bianca suggests as she looks back to the group. "What if this is what he could build? Fake rooms?"

"How the hell are we supposed to get out of this? It looks way too real," Xavier sighs, rubbings his face. 

"Let me try calling Wednesday," Enid pulls out her phone and dials. It picks up after the 4th ring, and Enid almost shouts into the phone when voices are already coming through.

"—couple relents, and an agreement is formed."

"Hold on," Enid says quietly, putting the phone on speakerphone. "I think Wednesday picked up, but she's with Henry right now."

The group listens to him speak, gauging the story with tense interest. 

"That's weird," Enid whispers. "It's quiet, but I can kind of hear an echo now."

"Hey Enid," Eugene whispers as he looks at her. "You put flowers in the Crypt when we came back to school, didn't you?"

Enid screws her brows in thought but nods when she remembers. "I did in the corner...to remember Rowan."

"What flower did you put?"

"I put a potted tristeria in there because they don't require any care. I didn't want to come back to look after it."

Eugene smiles. "I think I know how we can find our way in." He summons a single bee. 

"As long as there's pollen in there, this bee will find it." 

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"So?" Wednesday raises her brow at Henry. "Aren't you going to reveal your grand master plan? What your wish will be?"

"And why would I do that?"

"Because cliche villains like you can't help it," Wednesday drawls. "It's why you're all so embarrassing. You think you're so clever and the need to show your cleverness to someone overrides any smart brain cell in your head to be efficient."

Henry looks at her contemptuously, but he looks up through the open sunroof and realizes the full moon isn't in position yet, and he has time. 

"I'm an only child," Henry begins to talk.

"Here we go," Wednesday mutters under her breath, rolling her eyes.

"My father was an alumnus here. We come from a long history of psychics and old money, so coming to this school is really the only choice. My father eventually graduated and married another socialite. You know, the type that's well-bred and genetically compatible to produce another strong psychic to pass on the legacy," Henry continues to point the knife at Wednesday but waves his other hand whimsically to emphasize his point.

"Except," Henry sighs, like the next part will be tragic. "The well-bred socialite turned out to be barren in the womb. Oh, whatever will they do? How will they pass down this enriched legacy? They need another psychic to pass it down to!"

Henry smiles like a bright idea comes to his head. It looks unhinged, which Wednesday would normally find charming, but Henry's face disgusts her to her stomach.

"Of course, the only answer is to find a surrogate. Secretly, of course. It's too shameful to let anyone know. And that means our lovely little couple finds an outcast struggling to make ends meet three states over. She's barely got any psychic abilities, but she's better than nothing, right?"

Wednesday's listening, but her eyes are taking in his stance. He doesn't stand like he has extensive combat abilities like she does, and she's confident in her odds there. 

"The couple promised riches. They promised a better house and food that wasn't stale and enough money to let her live her days out comfortably. But our soft-spoken, poor outcast says she can't agree. She loves children, and if she were to have a child, she'd want to be able to see her visit that child. The couple relents, and an agreement is formed."

Wednesday stares at the room around her without moving her eyes. This was real, wasn't it? There were limitations to Henry's powers. How many rooms could be kept active, how long he could keep them engaged, and the objects inside the mindscape can't stay outside for prolonged periods.

Henry must've brought you here because he couldn't mimic the magic residue that surrounded this crypt. 

That meant the surrounding area of his crypt would be made up of mindscapes so no one could find them.

Wednesday wonders if Enid and the rest of the group were currently lost in one of his mindscapes, and they were closer than she thought.

"Everything seems fine at first," Henry's voice interrupts her thoughts. "The pregnancy goes without a hitch, but on the day of her birth, there were complications, and she passed away soon after. Still, she gives birth to a lovely, healthy son. All should be well, right?" The way Henry says it is filled with sarcasm.

"But what should be filled with fulfilling days is just scorn. The well-bred socialite can't love a son who isn't really hers. His eyes are a constant reminder that he's someone else's child. She doesn't want to hold him, touch him, or even look at him if she doesn't have to. The father has great expectations, but when his son can't achieve them, he's distant. They don't tell him the origins of his birth, so the child is left to believe his parents just can't love a disappointment like him."

Great, Wednesday thinks, another idiot with mommy issues. "That was entirely uninteresting and cliche," Wednesday stifles a yawn, annoying Henry.

"Yes, but I'm not quite done."

"Hurry on then. I'm considering dying might be better than listening to the rest of this."

Henry sneers at her but continues on. "The child thinks he's just unloveable. That it's just the way he is, and that's why his parents cannot love him. Until one day, he's rummaging through his father's study in hopes that there's something there that could help him strengthen his psychic abilities."

"Let me guess," Wednesday drones. "You found a letter from either the doctor or the coroner about the day your birth mother had you but your father had her killed right after."

Henry looks surprised.

"Amateurs," Wednesday huffs. 

"Yes," Henry looks miffed that his plot twist was ruined. "The doctor injected nightshade into her IV, and because she was poor, her death was never looked into after the report the doctor gave."

"So?" Wednesday raises her brow. "What are you going to wish for? Your birth mother to come back so someone might love you as pathetic as you are?"

"I'm going to rewind time," Henry reveals, scowling at her. "I'm going to go back in time and kill Tyler before he can awaken as a hyde."

"Why?" Wednesday demands. "That mongrel is already behind bars and rotting. Even if you rewind back time, he's not going to awaken his hyde for you. He has severe mommy issues just like you do, and you don't seem like the motherly type."

"Not to kill my parents," Henry snaps. "For me, for my life at Nevermore. Everything was perfect before Tyler came along."

Wednesday furrows her brows. "What the hell do you—"

"If Tyler didn't come along, Miss Thornhill would still be here and she'd be focusing on me!" Henry shouts, gripping his knife tightly until veins become visible on his arms. 

Wednesday's eyes scrunch up in disgust, her head bobbing back with disbelief. "You're doing all this for Thornhill?" Her tone hides none of the contempt she feels. "Are you an absolute imbecile? Thornhill was using Tyler because she hates outcasts. She hates you too, you stupid—"

"That's not true!" Henry thunderously shouts at her. "Tyler and I were different. She cared about us but she chose Tyler because he was stronger! I'm different now! I can help her achieve her goals and we will be happy after."

"No," Wednesday curls her lip at Henry. "You were her puppet until she decided you were useless and Tyler could help her kill everyone. You do realize that was her goal, right? You'd only be kept alive until she decides she doesn't need you in her normie world."

"Shut up!" Henry's red in the face as he roars at her, stomping toward her. 

Wednesday hardens her stance, bending her knees slightly to keep her grounded. She blocks Henry's attempt to stab her before using her other elbow to dig into his sternum. It makes Henry stagger back, coughing, and grip his chest, but he hangs onto the knife. He recovers quickly before he moves back towards her, swinging the knife back and forth.

Wednesday dodges, but Henry extends his arm, and it nicks her cheek. The cut stings, and Henry grunts as he tackles her to the ground. He meant to stab her in the neck, but Wednesday moved her arm just in time and stabbed the outside of her bicep. Wednesday grunts in pain when he rips it out. 

His height difference gives him the advantage, and they're rolling on the ground. The force of the tackle made the back of Wednesday's head slam into the ground. She can feel a warm liquid dripping down the back of her head, but she doesn't let it stop her. 

Wednesday knees him in his groin, which makes him drop the knife, roll onto his back, and hold the tender area with a groan. Wednesday quickly kicks the knife away and gets on top of him, punching him in the face before she wraps her fingers around his neck and squeezes.

Henry is struggling and wheezing, his hand wrapped around his wrist, attempting to rip them away, but Wednesday's grip is firm. She can feel his Adam's apple giving, and she squeezes tighter. 

Henry flails around, winding the back of his hand, and punches Wednesday in her temple. He wore a ring that dug into Wednesday's skin and ripped it open. 

The force and cut of it make Wednesday dizzy, and she's forced to let go as she staggers to the side. Henry is gasping for air but immediately scrambles for the knife. He has a cut on his brow from where Wednesday punched him, and his neck was wrung red. 

"I'm going to fucking kill you!" Henry shouts, enraged as he grabs the knife. 

Wednesday is still lying on the floor, holding herself up on her elbow as she is holding her temple while her own blood coats her hand. 

The noise is deafening, and it makes you breathe deeply. 

You begin to stir, your fingers twitching. The sound of your leg moving grates against the stone table.

Henry and Wednesday snap their heads in your direction. 

"How did you..." Henry starts to say.

"Don't...touch her..." your voice is raspy and lethargic as you slowly sit up.

"Don't move," Henry threatens, grabbing the collar of Wednesday's shirt and pressing the knife against her throat. "Don't move, or I'll slice her neck open!"

Wednesday is staring at you. It's hard to see your eyes with your head tilted down and your palm pressed against your eye.

"How the hell did you wake up?' Henry seethes. "The draeconium should've kept you unconscious even when I started to cut your wings. You shouldn't have fought against it. This would've made all of it less painful."

The chain rattles as you move your palm away and look up at them. Wednesday could feel Henry tense, and she could understand why. 

Your eyes have transformed, and they were completely pitch black—even your sclera. You looked more like a demon than a faerie, and Wednesday felt her heart skip. She's entranced, eyes unable to look away. 

"I'm a high lord's daughter," your voice rumbles quietly, your eyes narrowing on them. "I'm a night faerie. You think I wouldn't be trained to have resistance against draeconium poison?"

Henry's jaw clenches, and Wednesday can't tell for certain, but she's pretty sure your eyes drop to look at the knife against her neck. 

"Let her go," you demand. "Let us both go, and the worst that will happen to you is an expulsion."

Your voice isn't threatening in any way. It's almost calm, and Wednesday almost scoffs that you'd think this psychopath would listen to you. 

"Expulsion?" Henry laughs. "The second Weems learns what I did, there's no way I won't be going to jail. My parents might just execute me out of shame."

"You could probably use your last meal to request to see your beloved Thornhill first, if she even agrees to see you," Wednesday mutters. The knife presses further into her neck threateningly. A thin slit of blood drips down from Wednesday's neck.

"There's only one way I'll let her go," Henry looks at you warily, trying to bargain. "Your wings for her life. I'll tie Wednesday up as leverage but the second I have your wings, I'll let her go."

"Only a moron would believe that," Wednesday drones, her face impassive. 

"She can't wait that long," you argue back, ignoring Wednesday. "She's losing blood in her arm."

"It's not fatal," Henry shakes his head. "I'll let you seal the wound up, but if I don't have your wings before the moon moves from the highest point in the sky, I will kill her."

"Don't bargain with me," you warn him, but your delicate tone doesn't scare Henry at all. 

Henry glares at you. He's losing his patience as he presses the knife further into Wednesday's neck, and she can feel it cut into her skin more. "There's nothing you can do but accept my bargain. You're lucky I'm even offering to let Wednesday go. I could kill her right now and still take your wings—"

Your eyes, filled with nothing but darkness, flash dangerously at him.

"Shit!" Henry suddenly curses, tenses up, and Wednesday sees his eyes cloud over. She knows that he can no longer see the way he's frantically looking around. She moves her head back, so the knife is no longer pressed against her neck. 

You suddenly spread your wings to their full span. Your wounds rip open, and blood rapidly rushes down, soaking your fingers and staining the stone table. They fill in the carved inscriptions but pour over onto the ground. 

You flap your wings, rising. The chain initially resists, but with another flap, it breaks like a measly string. 

You're hovering in the air, held up by your wings. Blood coats your shirt and cheek when your wings flap, splattering blood everywhere. 

It's terrifying how much blood you're losing, but Wednesday can't help the hitch of breath in the back of her throat. 

You look like a fallen angel. Like you fought tooth and nail before heaven cast you out.

You force your wings to their full wingspan and flap them with a reckoning force. The wind you create is so powerful that it forces Henry to fly back. He collides with a pillar, his body arches from the impact, and he gasps painfully. He drops the knife and falls onto his knees, coughing. 

You swoop down towards him, standing in front of him as you grab the collar of his shirt with both your hands, pressing him against the pillar to hold him up as he can't even stand. Henry is sure you've broken his ribs. 

"Lucky?" You snarled before seething at him. "Did you think because I smiled at you that I was kind? That I wasn't capable of hurting you?"

Wednesday looks down at her hand, covered in blood and soaked feathers that fell when you flew over her. The air is hard to breathe after your wings disrupt the air, almost like she's choking. 

This was what her vision meant. 

How utterly useless to figure it out now. 

All Wednesday can smell is blood, all she can hear is your breathing and the sound of your wings. Your voice—raspy and rumbling—is all she can hear. Even when she closes her eyes, the image of you in the air with your bloodied wings is imprinted—burned into the back of her eyes. 

Everything about you has taken Wednesday's senses hostage.

"Say, Henry," you say, and Wednesday feels a chill down her spine in the calm and light way you say it. "What do you think would happen to you if I dropped you from 1500ft? Do you think you'd die, or do you think you'd survive and just become paralyzed?"

"Please—" Henry whimpers, begging. He screws his eyes shut despite the fact that even if they're open, he can't see anything but pitch black. It's just instinct at this point.

"Let's see who's really lucky," you tell him, pulling him from the pillar, your wings fluttering. "You or me."

You're about to take off when you feel your shirt being tugged at. 

You look over to find Wednesday standing, parts of her temple crusted with dry blood while fresh blood pouring down a line. 

Wednesday is looking at you sternly, her brows furrowed deeply while hiding something else she is feeling—desperation. 

"Don't fly," she demands you, her voice serious. "If you fly, you'll lose too much blood and you won't make it."

You merely stare at her, and Wednesday wonders if you can even hear her.

"I'm okay," Wednesday tells you quietly instead. "We both are." She turns her head to look at Henry, who looks like he has passed out from the pain in his ribs. "He's done. He can't do anything anymore."

The words seem to reach you as you loosen your grip, dropping Henry, and he falls to the floor on his side. 

You turn to Wednesday, blood dripping drop after drop from the end of your wings. 

"You've ruined your wings again," Wednesday scowls at you, and your lip twitches. "You fool, they will never heal at this rate."

"They will," your voice was raspy. "I just need intensive care for the rest of the year."

Wednesday keeps her scowl at you, and you smile weakly at her.

"Thank you for coming to find me," you tell her, your voice lulls Wednesday.

"Of course, you were late," Wednesday relaxes her face as she looks over your wings. As much as she hated to admit it, this was out of her hands, and they needed the nurse.

You smile sadly, and it looks strange with someone whose eyes are completely black. "I missed our date."

"Stop with the look," Wednesday orders. "It's unnecessary. I can always plan it again."

You look happy, then. But you also look extremely tired. The black from your eyes fades and after a couple long blinks, they become normal again. 

"Thank you for saving me," Wednesday eventually says, her features looking soft as they gaze at you. "Even if you were stupid enough to ruin your wings."

You chuckle, but it's weak. You lift your hand, almost hesitating to touch Wednesday's face since your hands are coated in blood. But Wednesday leans into it, letting it smear her cheek.

You're so warm, and it's comforting to Wednesday. It was a sign you were alive. 

Making sure you paid for making her feel wretched over you would have to wait because all Wednesday can do right now is be thankful you're alive.

You lean towards her face, your lips hovering over hers. 

"Don't die," Wednesday quietly commands. "Ever. Especially without me."

You smile, and it brushes against Wednesday's lip. 

"Are you threatening me with a good time again?" you murmur. "But okay, only because you have such a way with words."

You're about to close the distance, but you slump against her instead, passing out.

Wednesday holds you securely, her eyes widening. 

Suddenly, Enid burst through the room. Well, first, it was a bee, and then Enid.

"We're here! I'm going to wolf out and beat that motherfuc—oh, you guys already won."

The group follows quickly behind Enid, taking in the gory scene.

"Jesus Christ, Addams," Bianca scowls at her. "Did you make Fae do all the work? What happened to the Addams that held someone hostage to torture them?"

Wednesday doesn't respond to the comment, merely passing you to Enid and Yoko to carry. "Take her to the nurse quickly."

"It'll be faster if I carry her in my wolf form," Enid says. "Let's take her outside first."

"I can do some first aid to hold her over," Bianca follows. "Let's get her near the river; I can use the river water."

They all take a moment to stare at you. 

"I didn't know she had wings," Yoko comments. "They're beautiful."

"If rumors of her wings go around, I will—"

"Obviously, we're not going to talk about them, Addams," Bianca rolls her eyes. "You don't need to threaten our lives."

Wednesday shrugs. 

"Let's just get going," Enid starts to move. Everyone begins to follow except Xavier. He stays and lingers around Wednesday.

"You need medical attention too," Xavier glosses over her, specifically the wound in her arm. 

"I'm fine," Wednesday brushes him off, turning around to stare at Henry on the ground. "You should go help them."

Xavier follows Wednesday's gaze. "I can help you carry him back."

"I'm not bringing him back," Wednesday monotones.

Xavier sighs. "Wednesday, I know what he did was horrible and he should die for it, but you can't kill him. Weems might—"

"I'm not going to kill him either," Wednesday interrupts. "You should leave."

"Wednesday—"

"Now, Xavier," she snaps.

Xavier hesitates for a moment before letting out a frustrated sigh and turning to leave the room.

Something scuddles into the room, and Wednesday turns to see Thing.

"There you are, Thing," Wednesday says. "Let's see if your scalpel skills improved."

PART 10

[yume-x-hanabi]

Life update

Posted on DW, but I figured I could update this blog as well now that I'm semi-getting back into social media...

I've sorta fallen off from the fandom and social media space, because life has been a lot these past few years. To sum up briefly:

- I made a couple of posts about it last year, but I bought an apartment in a new building (construction wasn't finished at the time). Running left and right to choose stuff such as flooring etc, getting things organized on the paperwork side (banks, notaries...), plus the move itself, took me a lot of time and energy. I've been living here full time for 10 months now though, and it's been great. Love the building (even tho it's not entirely finished orz), love the neighbourhood, and it's so great to have your own place. Missy seems at ease here, too, which is important. The balconies' guardrails are huge glass panes that go all the way to the floor with no gap, so that means I can let her out without supervision without fear of her falling/jumping off.

- Work, the main culprit for my withdrawal from fandom. I think I mentioned before that I took on more admin tasks a couple years ago, and while I enjoy the actual work when I get to it, it's a huge huge drain to my mental energy, esp when combined with everything else (class prep, exams, meetings etc). So it's pretty much killed my drive, and my already bad work-life balance just became worse and worse. Like, it's not that I don't have free time (perks of teaching = lots of holidays), but when I do I'm so mentally exhausted that I was pretty much only able to play mindless games like Solitaire or Civilization VI (which became like an addiction lol) or doomscroll on twitter or reddit. I pretty much lost my ability to engage with hobbies, except for the ones below, and I'm trying really really hard to come back and make it stick this time around.

- Speaking of hobbies though, I've gotten really into classical music and started attending concerts regularly. By perfect coincidence, my new place is at a 2-minute walk from my city's philharmonic hall, and I've been enjoying the heck out of that perk. My city's orchestra is really good, and their program so varied. When it was time to choose my subscription for next season, it was harder to choose which concerts not to attend (but a choice had to be made ;v;). Also I'm super stoked because they're playing my favorite symphony next year, I didn't expect to be able to hear it live so soon!

I think this really saved my mental health this year. Like, it's a bit hard to explain, but there's something really unique and relaxing about the atmosphere there. It's a bit intimidating at first, and I was really self-conscious about not making noise at the beginning, but I've gotten used to it now. Mostly, I think it helped me rediscover what it is to just sit down and enjoy the moment, without constantly looking for stimulation to my already overstimulated mind (silly aside, but before that I'd sorta lost the ability to binge a series without mindlessly checking my phone in the middle of episodes. Being "forced" to keep my phone away for the duration of a concert has really helped me recover my attention span). I think it helps my mind rest, if that makes sense? Also there's nothing comparable to listening to the music live in a hall with great acoustics x3

I followed the Queen Elisabeth Competition closely this year, live for a few finals performances when possible, the rest on TV, and it was really awesome. I think in four years I'll get the subscription for the whole finals week :p

- Relatedly, I've also started taking violin lessons. I'd always wanted to learn an instrument since I was a child (loved those mandatory recorder classes we had at school lol), but it never happened (partly because I was too passive as a child to actively ask for it, partly because my parents probably didn't want to have their eardrums massacred, so didn't offer it (wouldn't have said no if I'd asked, but as I said I wasn't good at asking back then)). It took me a while to actually make the jump, because I thought I'm too old now and there's no point, but I finally did with some encouragements from friends and colleagues and I'm really glad I did. Violin is... hard lol. I sound absolutely terrible. But it's also really fun? Like I feel like I'll never be good, but also I've made so much progress since I started. I don't have much time to practice (I aim at at least 10min a day these days, which isn't a lot, but it's better than nothing and it's more important to do it a little regularly than a lot once in a while). I'm really looking forward to the day I'll be able to attempt to play Xillia songs 😄 Also I really love my teacher<3

- Lastly, niece is 3 now and so fun to interact with. It's not always easy, she's very stubborn and willful, but she's also really sweet and funny. Love her ❤️ And she's just got a little sister! who's a very chill newborn, so different from niece#1 lol. I can't wait to see them play together when they're a little bit older.

Anyway, that's pretty much the main things that have been going on the past couple of years. Like I said I'm not sure I can be totally back, I think it's gonna take a lot of adjustment, but this time I really don't want to let another year pass by like that. I'm really gonna try hard to have better balance this time!

[resurrection-of-soul]

Flashback | PSYCHOBREAK 5

Writer: Akira (日日日)

Characters: Adonis, Koga, Rei, Kaoru

Koga: Just remember. If ya try n' pull any funny business, I'll crush ya mercilessly. This feels like somethin' Adonis would say, but… I'll protect UNDEAD.

[ For the best viewing experience, please read directly on my blog! ♪ ]

Adonis: Through the "subsidiary" HELLSING, we've been able to expand the scope of our activities. Thanks to that, I believe we will be able to provide adequate service to all our fans, satisfying everyone. Though it does feel a bit lonely to be separated from our real senpai.

Koga: Not like that's anythin' new. After all, we were separated for a bit right after those two graduated from Yumenosaki, too. Things've just gone back to bein' the way they were.

Adonis: That does not make it less lonely. But it can't be helped, this seems to be the best solution at the moment. We will maintain the status quo and continue with our idol activities while investigating the mastermind behind the "AIIE" experiment. By uncovering the truth, we can find a fundamental solution to the problem. As for what comes afterwards, we will have to cross that bridge when we come to it.

Koga: It ain't our job to think too hard. All we can do is to keep tirelessly dealin' with each problem as it comes, like children pilin' stones on the banks of the Sanzu River.¹ Just hopin' that maybe this time, it won't all fall apart.

Adonis: It's a precarious tightrope to walk. All we can do is try our best not to fall.

Koga: Yeah. So somehow or other, we'll find out who's behind this incident n' destroy 'em before anythin' goes wrong.

Adonis: …But what if I really am the culprit?

Koga: The hell? How the fuck could it be you? I'd believe it was almost a~anyone else over you! Ya can't even bring yerself to kill bugs, can ya?

Adonis: Do you remember the dream we saw during the experiment? In that dream, we witnessed memories of the past which seemed to differ slightly from the actual events which occurred in reality, and there was one particular incident which stood out. Delinquents calling themselves "vampires" ran around causing trouble, weakening the town's security. The leader of those "vampires" was said to be me, Otogari Adonis.

Koga: The only one claimin' that was the past Sakuma-senpai. Even in that shitty dream, there wasn't any real proof, n' you were released in the end due to inconclusive evidence.

Adonis: Yes. But because of that, the atrocities being committed by the "vampires" did not stop. In real life, Hasumi-senpai — wielding the student council's authority — lead DEADMANZ to suppress the delinquents. But in the dream, the "vampires" continued to run wild. Even the past Sakuma-senpai could not convince them to stop. Though they were originally supposed to be his devotees, they had become completely dedicated to their new boss, only listening to his orders.

Koga: And that new boss was you? So what, you tryin' to say yer on the same level as Sakuma-senpai?

Adonis: Of course not, I don't have that kind of charisma. But there are no other suspects, and even though those memories were distorted, I cannot help but to feel that Sakuma-senpai would never make a mistake. If he says I'm the culprit, I'm sure it must be true.

Koga: God is always just, huh? C'mon, just what do you take that guy for? Curious as I am about that, though, it's not really relevant. All that stuff was just a dream. The problem is this absolute chaotic mess we're dealin' with in reality.

Adonis: …Is this truly reality? Or is it just another dream? Strangely, it doesn't feel real. Everything's kind of floaty.

Koga: Well, it is a seriously unrealistic turn of events. But no matter what, this is the world we live in, and this is where our souls reside... So we have no choice but to keep doing our best to survive.

Rei II: […Done talkin' yet?]

Koga: ……

Rei II: [Cause we're good to go over here~ Don't worry, we followed yer instructions properly when dealin' with Hasumi-bou.] [It's seriously tough recreatin' that old man talk though, so he might be a bit suspicious.] [Buuut, even someone like him'll have a hard time guessin' this kinda science fiction-y turn a' events.]

Adonis: We thought so too. Dealing with Hasumi-senpai's interrogation must've been tough. Thank you for your hard work Sakuma-senpai, Hakaze-senpai.

Kaoru II: [……]

Koga: Hey, Adonis, ya don't gotta bother showin' any respect to these assholes. But, weeell, you're the kinda guy who even speaks kindly ta yer harmonica, so I guess it can't be helped, huh? The fake Sakuma-senpai's at least tolerable, but the fake Hakaze-senpai's especially bad. He won't even talk to us, let alone make eye contact. There ain't any need t' be polite ta someone who's so rude.

Kaoru II: [Hey, so like~?] [Could you please stop trying to get me involved and stuff? I'm like, so not into the idea of investing time and effort into guys, y'know~? ♪] [That's why I haven't been talking. I'm doing my job properly, so it's not a problem, right?]

Koga: O, oh, 'kay… Man, there's somethin' kinda nostalgic about this Hakaze-senpai... Right, these guys're copies of us from a while ago. Guess that means the fake Hakaze-senpai's still actin' like a dumb playboy. Well then, since people might get suspicious if I go around callin' ya fakes in public, from here on out I'll call ya Playboy and Vampire Bastard ².

Rei II: [Do as ya like.] [By the way, Hasumi didn't come by just to interrogate us. He was apparently actin' as a messenger for someone in the upper echelons a' RhythLin.] [Seems like our recent achievements have been acknowledged, n' we're gettin' a tour soon.] [We'll be travelin' nationwide, singin' for the sake a' the fans who love our "radical n' immoral" selves.] [Rock, Rock, Rock n' Roll ♪] [Ain't it great? It's like a dream come true, right, Puppy?]

Koga: …The ones I wanted to sing with weren't you two, though~ Well, whatever, it can't be helped. Until the mastermind's been defeated, I'll just obediently follow the path fate's laid out for me.

Koga: Just remember. If ya try n' pull any funny business, I'll crush ya mercilessly. This feels like somethin' Adonis would say, but… I'll protect UNDEAD.

[ ☆ ]

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tl;dr: A saying meaning to repeatedly perform a difficult task for no recognition/reward. The Sanzu River is the river said to be at the border to the underworld, which the dead must pass over to reach the afterlife. The weight of a person's accumulated sins, offset by their merits, is said to determine how difficult the crossing will be, as well as whether the person will go to heaven or hell. Children who die before their parents are said to be too young to have accumulated any merit, while also being weighed down by the sin of being unfilial to their parents. Due to their young age, instead of being condemned to hell, these children are instead told to demonstrate filial piety by piling up stones to build a pagoda honoring their parents, which will allow them to accumulate enough merit to safely cross the river. However, whenever a child gets close to finishing their work, a demon will come by and topple the stones, forcing the child to start over again.

For those unfamiliar with UNDEAD's ! era stories, these were Koga's old nicknames for Kaoru and Rei. He switched to using their names after Repayment Fes, with the implication that it was because he wholeheartedly felt them worthy of his respect from that point on.

[catboybiologist]

Alright, this is going to be a ramble that's been pent up for a very, VERY long time. And fuckit, its gonna have some specific details, but I have so much rage about this that I don't even care anymore.

I'm gonna take a moment to brag, because I promise it'll be relevant.

Most people following one of my blogs probably consider me physically fit. And hell, I am proud of my physical accomplishments. I'm a very strong swimmer. I'm extremely "naturally" good at ocean swimming and freediving- during my introductory freediving course, I exceeded the requirements for two certification levels above me, and I've tried to maintain that skill. I'm not as "naturally" good at through hiking and climbing, but I was able to dedicate myself to it for a bit and easily did routes such as the HST, Rae Lakes loop, and "self-made" routes through other parks this summer. I'm looking to the JMT and others in the near future. I'm no boulderer, but I scramble over rocks and logs with ease. I'm far better at all of these things than an average human being.

But here's some other fun facts:

I've never had a mile run time below 10 minutes. I only have one below 12 minutes, and that was when I was actively training and pushing myself to it. This is below the average mile time of a man in his 50s.

I have to tap out after doing a pitiful number of jumping jacks.

I've never participated in an organized sport.

During PE and team sport activities I was forced to participate in growing up, I was always the person picked last, and was clearly the worst of the bunch.

So let's talk about this. CW, medical stuff ahead.

Take a look at these:

These are two surgical scars on either side of my left ankle.

When I was a preteen, I had a nasty twist in my ankle that fractured my ankle's growth plate. I was on crutches for a while. Even with physical therapy, still walked with a limp afterwards.

My doctor was confused at my recovery, and also thought that my fall was too minor of an incident to cause the damage it did. Eventually, follow up X-rays and even an MRI of my foot were done.

Every. Single. One. Of the bones in my ankle, and some in my feet, were covered in hairline, spiderweb looking fractures. I had abnormal growths and bone spurs (cue the Trump jokes). The MRI revealed the culprit: a bridge of cartilage in my heel, partially fusing my ankle joint. The end result was a reduced "springiness" and impact resistance in my ankle, as well as reduced flexibility both left/right and up/down. So when my foot tried to flex too much, or encountered an impact that it couldn't properly accommodate for… all of that extra force and flexing was going through my foot and ankle bones instead.

Now under normal circumstances, this probably would've been totally fine. If excess, repeated impact weren't applied, or I didn't flex it improperly on a regular basis, and in general, I just quit whatever I was doing when my ankle started to get sore, it would just be one more quirk of my body that I had to watch out for for the rest of my life.

Jogging was exactly the kind of repeated impact that stressed it out. It hurt. A lot. I knew something was wrong. I pleaded PE teachers and coaches for something, anything else to do.

But after a while, something else started to happen- since I was limited by my ankle, and not my cardiovascular health, I never got my heart rate up in PE. I never worked on any kind of physical health. And it started to slip.

So in addition to pain, I was starting to huff and be overexerted to the same level as everyone else for those pitiful 12 minute mile times. And so, of course, the PE teachers thought I was just being lazy, and just needed to work harder to improve those times. I just needed to push myself harder. Clearly it was just how much and how effectively I was training that was the problem.

I had extensive orthopedic surgery when I was 15. My ankle was opened on both sides, the bones pried open, cartilage cut out, and a titanium plug inserted to ensure that the gap between joints stayed open.

I spent pretty much the rest of my teens recovering from that. Physical therapy, pain meds, the works. It impacted my mental health a lot as well, of course.

It all started to work, however, and ~1-2 years out from the surgery, I was fully ambulatory and mostly pain free. By undergrad, it was a quirky fun fact- I could joke about being a cyborg because of that little scrap of titanium. It still bothers me from time to time, even today, but I know my limits and basic home PT techniques well.

I was still attending PE the entire time. I had some accommodations, but they were essentially just the teacher saying "alright, you're still running the mile, but I'll be lenient on grading you". I had the doctor's notes. I had the meetings with administrators. I had the paperwork to back me up.

But a lot of mental damage had been done. I had already internalized being the "physically unfit" and "lazy" kid. I took no care for my physical health. I thought I was a lost cause.

I always like hiking and swimming, but once I had the ability to explore my options, I started leaning more and more into them. And hell, I found out I was quite good at them. Nowadays, I can't do them daily, but I do them as often as I can, and try to do semi-frequent exercises adjacent to them- weighted stairs and the like.

I'll never be champions at them. When I swim directly downwards in freediving, I "spiral" down because of the asymmetry in my ankle flex. My ankle was also the first thing to give out nearly every day on the trail, not in a dramatic way, but in a "hey, probably time to make camp for the night" kinda way.

High school and middle school PE actively prevented me from doing that. I was too exhausted and in too much pain to explore any exercise options that weren't something I was specifically forced to do by the class.

Discovering my form of exercise was part of my mental recovery. But let's extend this a bit further.

What if I didn't? Or couldn't? I cannot fucking imagine going through the mental beatdown of having a disability during PE during as a teenager, internalizing that in your ego, and having a piece of your self worth tied to it. Hell, even when no disability is involved. What if your value is so intrinsically tied to your weight, and the fucked up, wildly inaccurate idea of "health" that this system puts on kids? It's fucked up. I know I'm privileged to be ambulatory now, and to actually have forms of exercise that work extremely well for me.

The true mental healing wasn't getting physically good at the things I do, or exercising well. It was trying to free myself from arbitrary metrics of physical fitness as a measure of self worth.

Maybe I'm being dramatic. Maybe my situation is too rare, or too specific, or too tied into other confounding factors in my life to matter. Maybe it became a bigger problem in my head because I was going through other stuff at the time as well.

But I don't know. Even considering all of that, even trying to remove that all from me, even trying to look at all this neutrally, I just can't see the value in PE- at least, not the way its conducted in most US schools. It doesn't contribute to student health. It doesn't give students a physically active break during their day. And in some cases, it actively hurts people.

Fuck PE.

For research (and due to my own grievances):

Reblog for bigger sample size (or don't, but I will be yelling at you from the sidelines)

[fiiirsthero]

About

This is a blog for the First Hero Link. This blog will not be spoiler free for any Zelda game. I have played most Zelda games, with the exceptions being some of the handhelds.

This version of Link does not strictly follow the First Hero manga.

In general, he is written as physically appearing 28, though often he is much, much older. He is 5'6" with golden blond hair that is kept longish and slightly shaggy. His frame is more slender than muscular, but he is strong and possesses a wide arrange of knowledge.

A brief summary: After being framed for a murder he did not commit, Link spent ten years in prison until he was finally exonerated and released. Being exonerated wasn't just because evidence was found proving he could not have committed the murder; that had been found at the initial time of the incident and had been discarded as 'someone had to have been the culprit'. Instead the driving need to free him was the rise of the Demon King Demise. Link, being a capable knight and swordsman, was needed to fight against him.

Link refused.

The village that now begged for his help was the same village that kept him imprisoned for 10 years. Why should he do anything to help them? If their doom was coming for them then so be it; they had dug their own grave and now needed to lie in it.

Link was not so heartless as to not care about a young priestess who had been chosen to go on this journey, however. The young priestess who went by the name of Zelda, though she was actually the Goddess Hylia in disguise. Link did not know this but agreed to travel with her as her sellsword and mercenary; she was a capable fighter, much more capable than he would have imagined a simple priestess ever could be, but even she alone would not have been able to stand against the hordes of Demise.

Their travels took them across Hyrule and, with her guidance, Link reforged a weapon she called the Master Sword. Zelda refused to ever try to wield it, and the pieces began to fall into place for him that she was not just an ordinary priestess. This, along with several close calls where a more vicious and bird-like form was shown in silhouette, had him realizing that she was truly the Goddess.

Having met and grown to care for her as just a simple woman, Link found he didn't care. This 'deceit' was not meant to harm him but to keep him safe; if he knew about the identity of the Goddess then Demise would try to kill him with even more fervor than he currently possessed.

The Blade of Evil's Bane would seal away Demise. Zelda's plan was for her to use her magic to bind him in place while Link killed him with the weapon. A fine plan that failed upon facing Demise and realizing his power had grown beyond their imagining with the infusion of Malice.

There would be no hope of killing him, but trapping and binding him was still possible. Instead of Zelda's magicks holding him in place, Link fought the Demon King to give her time to prepare a spell that would seal him away temporarily. The battle was long and while he ultimately succeeded in his goal, Link was mortally wounded by the time the Demon King had been trapped in his temporary prison.

As he laid dying, Zelda confessed to her true nature - which Link admitted he already knew and didn't care. He was happy with his death, feeling like he had been able to find one other person he could truly trust and care about.

Only death... did not quite come.

It was hard to say if it was a fragment of Demise's magic that cursed Link, or perhaps a misguided 'gift' being given to him from the Goddess - in truth, probably both blended together with a beautifully horrible result. Link... did not die. Could not die. Could not age.

Link is forever trapped in the moments before his death. His body can be damaged, can fall ill, but cannot die. His wounds from the battle with Demise have healed, but there is a scar over his heart that causes him pain if he exerts himself too much.

Instead of being bitter over this cursed eternal life, Link has devoted himself to watching over all future incarnations of himself to help guide them to help the Princess save Hyrule, all in the hopes of being reunited with Hylia again when Demise and the Malice have both been fully destroyed.

[safethaw]

Dealing With Oil Stains On Your Driveway: Effective Solutions

Ever had your heart sink at the sight of a nasty oil stain on your otherwise spotless driveway? If so, you're not alone. The good news is that the annoyance of oil stains doesn't have to be permanent. Despite their stubborn nature, they can be ousted, restoring your driveway's former glory. Whether you're a homeowner or a business owner, swiftly addressing oil stains on your driveway is crucial for maintaining its aesthetic appeal and durability. From absorbent materials and common dish soap to commercial oil stain removers and power washers, there's a whole toolkit available to combat oil stain on driveways. In this blog, we're about to take a deep dive into these practical and reliable methods to regain your driveway's pristine condition. What's Behind Those Unsightly Oil Stain On Your Driveway? Before we charge ahead into solutions, let's take a moment to understand the culprits behind these frustrating oil stains on your driveway. - Vehicle Leaks: These are often the primary villains causing oil stains. It could be your car, motorcycle, or any machinery using oil-based fuels that have developed leaks over time, leading to oil stains. These leaks could be traced back to the engine, transmission, or other mechanical components. - Accidental Spills During Refueling: Ever experienced an accidental fuel spill while refueling your vehicle? These accidental spills, an overflowing fuel tank, sloppy handling of the pump nozzle, or faulty fuel caps can result in oil stains that sully your driveway's surface. - Routine Fluid Changes and Maintenance: Routine tasks like changing your vehicle's oil, replacing coolant, or flushing brake fluid could sometimes lead to oil stains, especially if fluids are mishandled or inadequate containment measures are in place. - Machinery and Equipment: Apart from vehicles, machinery like lawnmowers, generators, or construction equipment that use oil-based lubricants or hydraulic fluids can contribute to those oil stains on driveway. - Harsh Weather Conditions: Mother Nature, too, plays her part in making oil spills and leaks more challenging to handle. Rainwater can spread the oil and push the oil stain on driveway it deeper into the driveway surface, while extreme heat or cold can cause oil to penetrate the driveway material, leading to persistent stains. Making Those Oil Stains On Driveway Disappear: Simple And Effective Tricks Oil stains might look stubborn, but with the right approach and a dash of effort, you can bid them goodbye. Here's how you can turn your stained driveway into a clean and inviting one. - Absorbent Materials: Grab a handful of cat litter or baking soda and cover the stain. Let it sit and soak up the oil for a few hours, then sweep or vacuum the residue. This method is particularly effective for fresh or recent oil stains. - Dish Soap or Detergent: This everyday household item works wonders on both fresh and old oil stains. Just wet the stained area, apply dish soap or laundry detergent, and scrub vigorously. Rinse thoroughly with water, and voila! - Commercial Oil Stain Removers: For more stubborn stains, commercial oil stain removers come to the rescue. Follow the instructions, rinse thoroughly, and reapply if necessary. - Pressure Washing: A pressure washer can be your knight in shining armor for removing oil stains from driveways. Apply a degreaser or detergent to the stain, let it sit, and then go to town with the pressure washer, being careful not to damage the driveway. Final Thoughts Maintaining a clean, stain-free driveway is essential for enhancing curb appeal and prolonging its lifespan. Oil stain on driveways can be unsightly and challenging to remove.  However, you can effectively tackle these stubborn stains with the right solutions and prompt action. Regular maintenance also plays a crucial role in preventing oil spills and ensuring a pristine driveway Read the full article

[madanpadhan123]

11 Amazing Teeth Whitening Tips

Assuming that you’re expecting to brighten your teeth, you’re in good company. A concentrate by the American Relationship of Orthodontists saw that as practically 90% of dental patients mentioned tooth brightening.

👉 You Fine Your Teeth In 14 Days Follow This Steps

If you have any desire to know how to get more white teeth, you have numerous choices — some are basic and modest (or free); some demand greater investment and cash.

In any case, whether you’re hoping to give your best or simply need to forestall further staining or staining, look at our 11 most supportive teeth brightening tips for a more brilliant grin.

1. Quit Smoking

Smoking is just as bad for your teeth as it is for the rest of your body. The nicotine and tar in cigarettes stain your teeth over time, and the longer you smoke, the darker and deeper those stains become.

Although smokers can benefit from teeth whitening options, smoking will always put your teeth at a great disadvantage if you’re trying to achieve a dazzling smile.

2. Limit Certain Beverages

Coffee, tea, fruit juice, soda, and wine are beverages that contain varying ingredients, like tannin, dyes, and phosphoric acid, which can yellow your teeth over time. If you’re not willing to give up your favorite beverages (here’s to all you coffee drinkers out there), consider these tips to limit their negative effects:

Drink your beverage in one sitting instead of over a prolonged period to reduce its contact with your teeth.

Drink water or brush your teeth after drinking to flush away/remove any harmful ingredients.

Drink through a straw. Although not ideal for drinking beverages like coffee or wine, using a straw helps limit these beverages’ contact with your teeth.

3. Avoid Sugary Snacks

Your mom had good reasons for wanting to keep you away from too much sugar when you were a kid. Sugary snacks, like candy and chocolate, increase the bacteria in your mouth that destroys your enamel over time.

Some goodies, like caramels, toffee, and peanut brittle, are even worse culprits because they love to stick to your teeth. If you can’t resist sugary snacks, try keeping them at a minimum and brush your teeth immediately after eating them.

👉 You Fine Your Teeth In 14 Days Follow This Steps

4. Include Certain Foods and Beverages Into Your Diet

Although no extensive studies exist to show how effective certain foods and beverages are in whitening teeth, there’s an indication they can help to a degree.

Some foods, such as strawberries and watermelon, contain malic acid, which may help whiten teeth. Others, like pineapple, can dissolve pellicle, which is a layer of salivary protein that bacteria can adhere to and discolor your teeth.

Another benefit of some “teeth whitening” foods, like apples and cauliflower, is that they encourage saliva production when eaten. Saliva helps wash away food debris and damaging acids. As for beverages, milk may lighten your enamel because it contains lactic acid, and, unlike most teas, clear or green tea also increases saliva production.

5. The Least demanding Teeth Brightening Tip:

Brush and Floss Day to day Many individuals ignore this variable while considering teeth brightening tips, yet truly brushing and flossing consistently goes far in assisting with keeping your teeth white by disposing of buildup from the food sources and beverages you devour.

In any event, flossing keeps a more splendid grin by eliminating food particles that could prompt plaque and tartar. To capitalize on brushing you’ll need to peruse our blog entries on the most proficient method to clean teeth accurately as well as our main 13 hints on cleaning your teeth.

6. Clean with Teeth Brightening Toothpaste

Most toothpaste brands convey their own teeth brightening choices. The absolute most normal fixings found in these toothpastes are peroxide, baking pop, actuated charcoal, and gentle abrasives that brighten and clean your teeth.

In spite of the fact that they assist with diminishing staining from guilty parties like espresso, tea, wine, and smoking, they miss the mark on ability to ease up or eliminate stains further than the surface lacquer.

7. Try not to burn through cash on Over-the-Counter Brightening Plate

We don’t suggest the over-the-counter brightening units accessible in corner shops and on the web. In contrast to uniquely crafted brightening plate from your dental specialist, these have low convergences of hydrogen peroxide in light of the fact that their non-custom-fitted design implies the gel will experience your gums.

8. Utilize Custom-Fitted Teeth Brightening Plate

Accessible at your dental specialist, custom-fitted teeth brightening plate have higher convergences of hydrogen peroxide than what is tracked down in brightening toothpastes and non-custom (over-the-counter) plate.

They additionally fit better compared to non-custom plate, making them more successful in brightening your teeth while diminishing how much peroxide that contacts your gums.

Custom-fitted plate require two outings to your dental specialist. The first is so your dental specialist can play out a 3D sweep of your teeth to make your plate; the second is to guarantee your plate fit accurately.

9. Settle on In-Office Teeth Brightening

We accept that in-office brightening is the best teeth brightening technique. Accessible at your dental specialist’s office, in-office brightening is equivalent to custom plate — remembering for cost — however offers a quicker method for lighting up your teeth.

Furthermore, dissimilar to custom plate which require two dental arrangements, in-office brightening requires only one. In minimal over an hour and a half, your dental specialist will apply a hydrogen peroxide gel to your teeth, trailed by a unique light that guides in the brightening system.

One more advantage of in-office brightening is that the restricted gel application implies you’re less inclined to encounter tooth or gum responsiveness.

10. Visit Your Dental specialist for a Cleaning

Albeit everyday brushing and flossing will assist with brightening your teeth, remember to visit your dental specialist for your normal cleanings. A dental cleaning is more exhaustive than at-home brushing and it eliminates plaque, which normal brushing can’t do.

The vast majority ought to see a dental specialist at regular intervals, however certain individuals ought to go more regularly. In the event that you don’t know how frequently you ought to get your teeth cleaned, we have a blog entry on how frequently to see the dental specialist that answers a ton of normal inquiries.

11. Last Teeth Brightening Tip:

Don’t Utilize Hydrogen Peroxide at Home Utilizing hydrogen peroxide at home is a new pattern that began on Tik Tok. Because of security concerns, a hydrogen peroxide comes up short on sufficiently high focus to successfully brighten your teeth.

On the off chance that you really do figure out how to find hydrogen peroxide with a higher fixation, know it can cause serious tooth harm. Along these lines, we don’t prescribe utilizing hydrogen peroxide at home to brighten teeth.

👉 You Fine Your Teeth In 14 Days Follow This Steps

[ffsg0jo]

- o u t d o o r d a t e s -

haikyuu x gn reader [daichi,, iwaizumi,, tsukishima]

WARNINGS: none :)) -- masterlist

a/n: this was a request from my old blog and i decided to repost it because why not

DAICHI :

it was a peaceful day outside, the water in the lake remained unmoving, except for the smallest of ripples that eventually fizzled out. the sun was shining, blessing everyone with its warmth and comfort and the sky was blue, littered with uniform crisp, white clouds. the day was perfect. perfect for you and daichi to take your kayaks out and have a calm and serene swim out in the lake with. you sighed in content and took a deep breath, the fresh air filling your lungs and clearing your mind of all toxicities. you felt at ease and calm. 

a hand comes up to your shoulder and you turn to look at the culprit. daichi smiles at you, a wide grin on his face. ‘it’s a beautiful day today, isn’t it’. you hum and nod in reply, too drunk on the tranquillity to say anything. daichi places a kiss on your cheeks and forehead and leads you to the edge of the water, where both your kayaks lay, bobbing in the waters. he helps you into your kayak making sure you're comfortable and secure and hands you your paddle. a soft thank you escapes your lips and you both set off. you gracefully paddled in the water with daichi right beside you, both of you appreciating the beautiful lake, glittering in the sunlight. you could do this for hours, you think to yourself. just you and daichi, kayaking in the brilliantly blue lake.   

IWAIZUMI :

you stared at iwa, his taught thighs spilling out of his shorts, his bare back strained, rippling with muscles, his wide shoulders barely covered by the rucksack, as he walked uphill . he looked as though he was sculpted by god himself. how you prayed in thanks of being blessed with such an ethereal, mouth-watering sight. you could feel the heat and blood rushing to your cheeks as you stared at iwa, deepening. ‘we’re nearly there babe,’ iwa turns around and you look at him confused, finally snapping back into reality. did someone say something you thought to yourself? iwaizumi sees the confused look on your face and walks back to where you had stopped, smiling, he grabs your hand. ‘come on,’ he said, pressing a kiss to the back of your hand. you internally squealed at iwa’s actions, questioning how on earth you managed to pull someone like iwa. 

finally you both reach the clear opening, and iwa places the bag down. you get the blanket out and lay it on the floor as well as the range of different food items you both had bought. hearing water splashing you turn to see iwa pouring water all over himself to try and cool down. mouth opening in an awed gasp, you tried to contain yourself, but your eyes couldn't help but follow the droplets of water dripping down his beautiful face, the plump curve of his lips, plopping onto his well defined, chiselled chest, making its way down the ridges of his abdominals and then disappearing, down into his- ‘oi, eyes up here,’ you broke out of your daze and see iwa pointing at his eyes with his index and middle finger. laughing sheepishly you apologise and continue laying everything out.

once you’re done, iwa sits down on the blanket and spreads his legs out, pulling you down onto his lap and in between his legs. his arms wrap around your waist and his face cuddles into your neck as he sways side to side. iwa’s muffled declarations of love are kissed onto your neck and your face erupts into a smile. how lucky you both were to have each other. 

TSUKISHIMA : 

biking with tsukishima is one of your most favourite past times. it’s the one time you both can enjoy and bask in each other’s peace. and it’s also one of the only times you get to see tsukishima thriving in his childlike happiness. a beautiful sight really. seeing a 6ft 2, fully grown man speeding ahead of you, pedalling as fast as his long legs can, laughing and telling you to keep up with him while he finds liberty in the scenery zooming past and the winds flowing through his hair. you do nothing but smile, teeth bared to the world going past, and speed up, trying to catch up with him. it's amazing how comfortable tsukki feels with you, he feels as though he can finally relax and release the breath that he’s been holding in front of people for so long.

you scream at the unfairness of tsukki having such long legs and how he was already wayyyy ahead of you. in response he turns around, laughs in your face and speeds up even more. shaking your head and giggling; it's moments like these where you're grateful to be with tsukishima and that you're blessed and trusted with seeing such sights.

eventually, tsukki decides to slow down and let you catch up with him. he was starting to get lonely all by himself and he found that he couldn't enjoy his bike sprint to the fullest without you there, pedalling right beside him. you both stop at a bench and sit down next to each other, your bikes on the floor, smiling and softly giggling with the occasional snort from tsukki. you look in his eyes, so full of love and warmth and you swear you can see an entire galaxy's worth of stars twinkling in them.

* this is a repost from my old blog with minor edits !! *

© ffsg0jo 2022 — do not plagiarise, repost, modify, or translate any of my work, in any way shape or form; i will piss in your cereal if you do. all work belongs to me and me only.

[crowfootwrites]

Los Guardianes | Part I [Nestor Oceteva x Fem!Reader]

I've been sitting on this for a while because I really like the story and want to make sure I do it justice. This is going to be a multi-part series. I hope y'all like it!

Warnings: references to playground injury | Words: 1,527

Also, oops, totally forgot to include my taglist 🤦🏼‍♀️: @chibsytelford @megapeacelovemusic-blog @broiderie

In the chaos that accompanied the start of the first day of school, you missed the shiny black Escalade that was pulling up out front of New River Preschool Academy. Your pre-K classroom was already noisy, the sounds of children chattering and laughing intermingled with the sounds of tearful farewells as parents prepared to leave for the day. A few children sobbed hysterically at their parents’ departures and you motioned for your classroom aide to attend to them while you answered questions from a couple of helicopter parents about naptime and the quality of the provided snacks.

You didn’t miss when a very severe looking man with long black braids and yellow aviator sunglasses appeared at the classroom door with a young boy in tow. It was almost comical, the juxtaposition of such an intimidating looking man, dressed in all black and sporting a neck tattoo, standing on your gaudy counting carpet. Your eyes flickered towards him as he tried to assess which of the adults in the classroom was in charge. You watched as the young boy tugged on his hand and pointed eagerly towards the bins of toy cars along your bright blue bookshelf. You politely extricated yourself from the claws of the two mothers demanding their children only receive brand name juice and made your way towards the door, navigating easily around crawling children and spilled blocks.

The man looked up at your approach and you swore there was a flash of relief in his eyes. But it was quickly replaced by the serious, acute gaze you had witnessed at his arrival.

“Good morning,” you addressed the duo cheerfully. “I’m Ms. (Y/L/N). Who do we have here?” you asked, crouching down to greet the boy. He stared at his shoes shyly, shuffling closer to his guardian’s leg. You noticed the tightening of his little fingers around the man’s hand, and you stood with a smile.

“Cristóbal. Galindo,” the man offered quietly. “He’s a little nervous.”

“I see,” you replied with a grin. “Well, hopefully we can pull him out of his shell a little today. I promise, he’ll be used to us in no time, Mr. Galindo.”

The man’s stern expression lifted for a moment as he smirked, shaking his head. “Oh, I’m – I’m not Mr. Galindo,” he clarified. “I’m Nestor. I’m the Galindos’ head of security.”

“Oh, I'm sorry! Little man gets his own security detail?” You hoped your teasing was well-received; Nestor didn’t look like the kind of person you wanted to upset.

But Nestor smiled at you. It was small, but it was there, and the tension in your chest relaxed just a bit. “Something like that,” he replied. He studied you for a moment before you felt a tugging on the hem of your shirt and tore your gaze away from Nestor’s to glance down at the tiny culprit: a little boy with cornrows was motioning to Cristóbal and holding up a toy Batmobile.

You chuckled. “Use your words, Marco,” you said gently. “You can ask him if he wants to play with you.”

Marco turned to Cristóbal, who was staring at him in bewilderment. But the moment Marco offered the Batmobile, Cristóbal was smiling, and the two boys scampered over to an empty spot on the carpet. You looked back up to see Nestor still staring at you, a strange look on his face. He seemed to snap out of it after a moment, and he fumbled to pull his wallet out of his back pocket. He handed you a business card.

“I think Mr. Galindo’s information is on the school paperwork, but if you have any issues and you can’t get a hold of him, I always answer,” he supplied.

You nodded and gave him a wry smile. “Thank you, I’ll remember that.”

With a quick nod, he was gone.

Your mornings went something like that for the next few weeks. As the kids settled into a routine and became more familiar with your classroom, drop-offs started going more smoothly. Every morning, Nestor dropped Cristóbal off, and picked him up every afternoon. Sometimes, you had the opportunity to chat with him, other times, he greeted you with a nod and then was on his way.

Cristóbal seemed to be thriving. He played well with others and followed directions. He was very inquisitive, which you found endearing. You knew, generally speaking, who the Galindos were, and you would have expected, coming from such a wealthy family, for Cristóbal to be very spoiled. But you were pleasantly surprised by his gentle and respectful demeanor.

On one otherwise uneventful Tuesday, Cristóbal fell on the playground and split his upper lip. When you attempted to call Mr. Galindo, per his information in Cristóbal’s file, he didn’t pick up. You remembered Nestor’s card in the top drawer of your desk and dug around to find it while you pulled Cristóbal onto your hip and he clung to your shirt, his little body shuddering as he sobbed.

You quickly dialed the number and put it on speaker, setting your cell on your desk while you dug out your antiseptic wipes for the boy’s lip.

“Nestor.” His voice was clipped and edgy.

“Hi, Nestor,” you rushed, not wanting to take up too much of his time, “this is Ms. (Y/L/N) from Cristóbal’s school. I’m so sorry to bother you, but Cris had a little accident on the playground today. I don’t think it’s anything too serious, but he split his lip and he’s pretty upset. I tried to call Mr. Galindo, but he didn’t answer.” You knew he could hear Cristóbal wailing from your hip.

The second you stopped speaking he was telling you he’d be there in twenty minutes. He sounded gentler by then, and you breathed a sigh of relief. In that moment, handling a cartel kid seemed way over your pay grade.

Nestor arrived exactly twenty minutes later. It was nap time in your classroom, so you had Cristóbal sitting next to you on a bench in the hallway leading to your room. The bleeding had stopped, and he held an ice pack to his face to help with the swelling. His feet were kicking gently, not reaching the ground, and you realized one of his shoes was untied. As you knelt in front of him to re-lace his red sneaker, you talked to him quietly, telling him about the last time you hurt yourself: tripping over your best friend’s dog at the park and scraping your knee. You told the story so animatedly that he was giggling behind his ice pack. Facing Cristóbal, you didn’t see or hear Nestor approach and when you happened to glance over your shoulder, you jumped to find him standing behind you. He grinned down at you, obviously trying not to laugh alongside his ward.

You rose quickly to your feet as Cristóbal cried, “Nes!” and hopped off the bench.

You could have melted into a giant puddle on the floor witnessing the tenderness with which Nestor interacted with Cristóbal. He knelt down on one knee, gently pulling the ice pack away from the boy’s face to assess the damage. His eyes were puffy from crying, his lip was swollen, and there was a robot bandage over the cut, but he looked ok otherwise.

“How does your lip feel, bud?” Nestor asked him quietly, his voice low and calm.

“It hurts a little,” Cristóbal replied, “but Ms. (Y/L/N) made it stop bleeding and said I was brave.”

You watched as Nestor tried to hide his smile.

“You are brave, chaparrito (shorty),” Nestor responded with a nod, ruffling his hair. “Is it ok if I take him home for the day?” he asked you.

“Yeah, of course, I – ”

“Hey, now I look tough like you do when you get hurt, Nes!” Cristóbal interjected as Nestor stood up, a grimace passing over his expression. You raised an eyebrow as he glanced at you.

He offered a rueful smile and shrugged. “Hazards of the job.”

“Thank you,” he offered appreciatively. “For taking care of him.”

“Of course. Happy to.” You took in his dark eyes and the set of his jaw. He looked more drained than he had that morning and you wondered fleetingly what he had been up to when you called.

Cristóbal grabbed Nestor’s hand and began towing him down the hall when Nestor paused. He glanced back over his shoulder at you. “Maybe the next time I need fixing up, I could come see you for robot bandaid?” he asked, his gaze sober and almost apprehensive.

Your mind raced, trying to come up with a suitably clever reply as your lips curled into a grin. “Yeah,” you managed, “I’ll make sure to stock enough for all your work hazards. I also have dinosaurs, if you’re interested.”

A small smile crept onto his face and he gave you a firm nod. “Very interested.”

Cristóbal tugged his arm and he let the boy lead the way out. Your breath caught in your chest, the stillness a distinct contrast to the thunderous beating of your heart behind your ribcage. Very interested.

Part II of Los Guardianes

[inkofyoonkoo]

At first, I wrote a long post to explain the main reason behind my difficulty to keep going with writing because I was tired to seek refuge behind the usual excuses, but I’ve deleted it because I sort of gave up? The more time I spend here, the more I feel it's useless to express my thoughts -especially after posting a couple of Yoongi stories and realizing that nothing changed from the previous blog: the numbers of followers keep increasing (hello anyway!), likes keep raining like the great flood... but silence rules. To overcome the “sadness” I finally found my balance, but it also means that updates will be more sporadic (the perks of being a slow writer who also lost every ounce of motivation and passion in sharing but still enjoys to write).

Anyway, since it's been three months, here's a snippet (full of mistakes and absolutely not-edited) of the new chapter of "I'm on the run" for the people who are patiently waiting for it, who have always been kind toward me and my works, and have always found a couple of minutes to let me know their opinions. I’ll never get tired to repeat that it’s for you that I still try to provide some decent stories -because I’m in a period of my life in which I’ve to neglect some leisure things and if you weren’t here, I’d choose writing/sharing right away.

I can't grant it'll be out soon, but I've already reached 26k words, it's almost all outlined -I just need to translate it and expand descriptions and thoughts, which means that I'm halfway to finish it 💔

And he tells you that he likes you, at every thrust. He'll whisper on your neck that he likes you so fucking much and he wants to date you seriously. That he isn't pretending. That this whole thing isn't so different from the thousands of dreams he had about you two. He'll tell you that, from the very moment he saw you again, he felt like a light exploded in his chest, swiping away the turmoil that was clouding his heart since Kyoko and him broke up. 

Jungkook is going to tell you that he's deeply sorry for cutting you out of his life. That if he could turn back time, he--!

A sudden noise to his right catches his attention, scattering all his blazing thoughts around. Ears perked like a dog that just heard a danger, Jungkook turns to search for the culprit who interrupted his wonderful reverie just when you were on the cusp of forgiving him (and coming, too). However, his annoyance liquefies into surprise when he takes notice of a pair of squirrels at the base of a tree, probably searching for some food. 

Jungkook's brain shuts off instantly, all his attention now fully attracted to the two small animals minding their business, uncaring about the intruder. Without advising, he separates himself from the group, oblivious about the fact that he doesn't know the trail to reach the campsite -and that this isn't one of his usual solitary sally. 

Slowly, he puts a foot ahead of the other, paying attention to not make too much noise. Once reached a good position that could permit him to take a nice shot, he puts down the cooler and a rolled tent, grabbing the camera hanging around the neck. Scared by a sudden movement in the distance, one of the squirrel dash away -a flash with brownish coat that disappears through the thick bushes; the other one, though, doesn't seem particularly scared about his presence: he stays still, looking at him, as if it he was studying his next move. 

"Hey, little one…" words rolling out in a childish tone, Jungkook waves a hand to greet him, crouching down on his calves. 

Reassured by the meters of distance between them, the squirrel goes back to ignoring him, rummaging through the leaves laying at the feet of a tall pine. Jungkook exhales a small sound of victory, grabbing the camera with both hands. With a little frown of concentration between his knitted brows, he makes sure that all the settings on the screen are positioned on the right mode; the, he grips the right side of it while the other hand runs beneath the lens to support the weight, keeping it closer to hold it better.

He takes a couple of shoots before the sudden crunch of footsteps and twigs behind him makes the squirrel run away to hide himself. 

Jungkook snaps his brows, gazing over his shoulder to dart a caustic glance to whoever decided to disturb this moment -a small pout hanging on his lips to emphasize his disappointment. However, his mask of annoyance flips off his face the moment he takes in the sight of you, standing still at a few steps from him.

A glint of concern crosses your face when your eyes meet. "Jungkook, here you are! I was worried, I turned and you weren't with us anymore and--" your flood of words falter and die in a squelched whining when you notice the small squirrel sliding up along the bark of a pine, before trailing your stare to the camera in his hands. "Ah, I didn't want to bother you! I made your muse run away, apparently." You deliver him an apologetic smile, setting then your eyes on the fronds growing bigger at every blow of wind.

Jungkook grins, shaking his head. "I took a nice shot, actually." He turns the camera in your direction, silently inviting you to come closer and take a look at it.

You near him and bend on your knees, eyes now fixed on the screen that portrays the squirrel tightening a leaf. "Oh my--it's so cute!" You sit down on your knees, eyes glistening when he hands you the camera for you to observe the picture better. You emit screeching sounds of appreciation that has him giggling, spaced out with small compliments directed to the adorable animal. "You improved a lot, you know?" You say, giving him a quick glance full of proudness. 

Jungkook feels a piping hot warmth expand in his chest, despite the banality of your compliment -because he lost count of how many people positively commented on his works; but the fact that it's you displaying some sort of appreciation, well, it makes everything more special. 

"I've always liked photography, but it became a passion only when I went to Tokyo. Kyoko was a good muse, I truly loved taking pictures of her…" his eyes grow bigger the moment he registers his own words, feeling utterly stupid for praising his ex in front of you; however, when he turns to study which expression might be dawned on your face, there's no trace of annoyance across your features -only a small muscle twitches in your jaw, but that's it. "Anyway, we used to travel a lot, back in Japan. I remember I used to spend entire weeks mapping out our trips only to visit places good for a shoot or two." He lets a small chuckle, lips now shaped in a curve brimmed with nostalgia. "Once, we went to Hokkaido. There's a place full of Siberian flying squirrels and, God, they were so adorable, (Y/N). They - they stay in small groups on the same bark and they sometimes hide in their lairs and then pop out all - all together." He flashes you a 1.000 watt smile, hands flickering in the air for his incapacity to hold back his enthusiasm. "A couple of them started flying from a tree to another to grab seeds, like this!" He opens his arms, imitating them just like a child would do. "Others, instead, were fighting over the same food. I think I filled up my memory card because of them."

It was a small trip for their fourth anniversary, entirely organized by him to surprise Kyoko. She was at the utmost of her happiness, he was too. It was a blissful period of their lives in which adulthood didn't seep through the folds of their relationship yet, and being together seemed the only solution to every little problem they met along their path. Jungkook doesn't nurture any sort of romantic feelings toward his ex anymore; and yet, a small part of him can't help but wonder how far they could've gone if they continued to be so well-knit. 

"It must be nice," you merely say, without delving further in his tale. Then, you snort a chuckle. "When you told me you were going to Japan, I was pretty disappointed," you start, out of the blue, in a bitter way that has him staring back at you with round eyes. "We spent years mapping out our trip, you promised me we'd go there together, but then you moved there on your own. I was so stupid, back then…" you tuck some hair behind your ear, your eyes shake for the briefest seconds they meet his own. 

Swallowing, Jungkook pins his eyes on the ground, feeling his sense of guilt brew inside his stomach. "You… you could've come to visit me," he replies, trying to calibrate the annoyance in his voice -a type of annoyance that always emerges whenever he feels like he was the only one committing a mistake in your friendship. "I would've hosted you, I - I would've taken you whenever you wanted." He nods, to emphasize his affirmation.

You turn to him in a rush, lips parted and wide-eyed. Jungkook blinks a couple of times, confused by the expression of astonishment dancing across your features. Why are you so… baffled by his words? 

"You--" you swallow, shaking your head. It feels like you're hiding something from him, but before he could question you about your sudden reaction, you say, "It's ok, though. I used to say that I'd travel all around the world once having a job and money, but in the end I've never moved outside of Seoul."

"Didn't you organize anything with your exes? Or your friends?" 

You shrug. "Namjoon preferred visiting museums, Seokjin loved fishing. We didn't travel much." You gaze up to a pine, attention caught by the fronds caressed by the wind. "Tae and Jimin often invite me to join them, whenever they organize something with their girlfriends, but… I don't know, I refuse. It feels like intruding in their romantic gateway. I know I could do everything on my own, but it's… boring." You ruffle your hair, a sign that an uncomfortable weight is now settling itself in your chest.

Jungkook grabs a stick, pokes the tip on the ground, drawing random doodles amidst the leaves. "I'm sure they'd never treat you like a third wheel." He munches the corner of his mouth. "And we're still on time to go to Japan, together…" he turns to you, sinking in your liquid eyes. "I - I'd take you wherever you want, (Y/N)." Your name tumbles off his mouth sweetly, with a certainty in his words that you welcome with a dim smile.

Jungkook waits for a follow-up that doesn't come -a laughter to acknowledge his good intentions; a simple: "why not?" to make him understand that you truly believe in him, that you're ready to share some of your time with him. But you go back to study the picture on the screen, before grabbing the camera between your hands, pointing the zoom up to the branches stretching above your heads. 

You're… weird. Miles away from here -from him.

And Jungkook can't grasp what is notching your mood. Because he knows he fucked up, at a certain point of the trip, but he can't wrap his head around the reason…

"What happened at the gas station, earlier?" He asks, noticing the stiffening in your shoulders. "Did - did I do something wrong? You're weird…" a small pout tugs at his lips, he buries the stick in the ground with a nervous gesture. "You're regretting this whole thing, aren't you?"

"I've never been sure about it, but I've to accept it," you reply, calm. "You didn't do anything, anyway. It's just, you know, you…" you chew on your bottom lip, as if you were gathering the right words to express your thoughts in the right way. "When we were at the gas station, you were talking with a girl and--"

"I wasn't hitting on her!" He interrupts, mind echoing back in a rush to the moment you're describing. "We were talking about the long queue and the menu and--"

"Jungkook, you don't have to justify yourself," you cut his flood of words gently, smiling softly at the vibrant blush now coloring his cheekbones. "I'm not mad. You can talk with whoever you want, I'd never forbid you. But… well, it made me think about us." You don't seem particularly affected by that "us" monotonically flown out of your mouth -but for him, it's just like you've pierced through his chest to caress his heart in turmoil. "We should probably add a rider to our contract," you explain, playfully. 

Furrows of confusion appear on his forehead. "A rider…"

"Yeah, like… if you meet a woman you like, you shouldn't hold back because of me." You let out a sigh before his skeptical expression. "We aren't really together, you've all the rights to do what you please. No strings attached, mh?" 

No strings attached…

Now… Jungkook knows that your proposal comes from good intentions, considering you're prioritizing his well-being for him to be totally comfortable in this mess; and yet, a crack cuts through the surface of his heart -the wound starts bleeding copiously, pumping up liquid sadness in his eyes. Because the fact that you're inviting him to wrap his arms around whoever he wants means that you don't give a damn about him.

You aren't jealous. You don't like him. This is just a game to you. A farce… and he's playing along, too, because this is his only way to show you his true feelings. 

A cloud of rage suddenly fogs his mind. "No." He spits, harsh. "I don't want to, I--" he swallows, the stick warped for the force he's applying. "I already fuck with you, why should I care about other women?" 

Jungkook curses under his breath when he processes his statement, sinking in your wide eyes. He's an asshole, the worst! Of course you won't ever take him seriously if he acts like a man who's only interested in your body. Actually, it's no stretch to believe that your self-esteem is reduced to a pulpy mess if you encounter dickheads like him…

"(Y/N), I didn't mean to--"

"Well, think about it." There's a wobble in your voice, his heart squeals when he notices the light tremble in your smile. "Maybe this trip will be your chance to meet the right woman." 

He already met her. It's right here, in front of him. He'd like to scream at the top of his lungs that it's you, it's you for fuck's sake. It's you. But words clogs his throat, impeding him to exhale even the tiniest sound. 

It's only when you're on the cusp of standing up that he seems to regain his capacity to talk. "Then I've a request, too."

[lunaastoir]

I recently discovered your blog, and I have an idea for a request! So, say that both Mondstadt and Liyue both hold a festival together or an event. Both Xinyan and Barbara are going to perform and the reader is going to help them. By like providing vocals or just helping them perform in general. A couple of days before the big day happens there's a note from the treasure hoarders (you can change it to something else like the Abyss Mages or something if that's easier for you) claiming they're going to take Barbara. Everyone just shoves it off to the side and then behind the scenes crew doesn't tell anyone so they don't cause panic for people. Especially since it's going to be a large crowd since both people from Liyue and Mondstadt. During the performance, while on stage the reader sees an arrow heading towards Barbara, and to prevent it from hitting her they casually push Barbara but it looks like a hug so people don't notice it. The reader is soon leaves the performance so they can catch the person who tried shooting Barbara. Their S/O (your character of choice) chases after them since they don't know where they're going and since they left the performance very early. Could you perhaps write their reactions to what the reader did? Like leaving the performance early and trying to catch up with them as they see them running somewhere? Feel free to change any of the details if you need to! This might not make that much sense so sorry about that. You could also choose any character since I'm not picky. Thanks in advance, and can I become 🌊 Anon? ^^

so sorry this is so late 🌊 anon!! things have been super busy - hope you still like it tho <3 

THIS SCENARIO IS SO SPECIFIC I LOVE IT

reqs: open!

gn! reader

characters included: diluc, kaeya, xiao, and ningguang

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you loaded up the last batch of qingxin flowers in your basket. god, you hoped this was enough for barbara to finish her performance with. the idea to conduct a festival with xinyan and barbara as the main performers was one coined by jean. she believed that it might help boost peoples spirits - especially after the havoc dvalin left behind. the suggestion to include liyue in the celebrations however, was all venti’s doing. after hearing the state liyue was in with the supposed death of their archon, the bard decided that liyue could partake in the fun as well, a win for both nations. the first combined liyustadt festival and hopefully, not the last. to others, perhaps the stiffness in your posture, the sheen of sweat on your hands, or the crease between your brow could be attributed to the stress of planning such an event. after all, this had never been done before. however, your stress was on something else entirely. the note the treasure hoarders had threatened barbara with weighed heavily on your mind. the threat detailed that they would attack if the show went on, yet nothing had happened and while precautions were made, you still couldn’t shake the pit in your stomach. you were taken out of your reverie as xinyan beckoned you on stage with the opening of the curtains in the back. putting on a sweet smile you waved to the crowd as they roared, the hero of mondtadt and liyue was in front of them after all. handing the delicate basket to barbara, you turned to make your way off the stage, before you felt chills up your spine. 

there.

the whizzing sound of bark slipped crisply through the air as you quickly made to gently push barbara away from the arrow’s path. the quizzical look on the young idol’s face was immediately conformed into fear as she heard the dull thud of the arrow hitting the back wall. flashing the crowd a smile, you gave her a reassuring look before rushing off the stage in your best, nothing-is-wrong walk. gathering your travel sack and weaponry, you quickly darted off into the woods, determined to catch the culprit. unbeknownst to you however, a pair of eyes had already followed your movements and was making their way towards you. 

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diluc

“love, where are you going?”

long legs quickened their pace as diluc found his words met with silence. your figure was rapidly disappearing among the trees as he raced after you with questions blowing through his mind. you had your weapons and travel sack, all things you didn’t have on you during the performance, he noted. he was aware something must have been detrimentally wrong if you were to take off in the middle of a performance where you were an honored guest. you would have informed someone beforehand if something was terribly urgent so why were you running like your life depended on it? 

it was only a matter of time before diluc caught up to you, however he didn’t stop you. he kept up with your strides as he inquired as to what was wrong. 

with your response, it would only strengthen his resolve to help you, not that he was ever planning on doing anything other than that. he slipped the weight of your travel sack on his shoulders before moving ahead. 

“treasure hoarders you say? follow me darling, there’s only one place with enough tree coverage to launch an arrow straight into the performance”

kaeya

“woah, in a hurry now aren't we?” 

a lazy smirk dripped over his lips as mischief burned in his eyes. now where were you going so fast?

kaeya didn’t have to run, he knew how to track. it also helped that he knew these woods like the back of his hand from the amount of dealings he’s made here. at first, he had assumed you were just running an errand, considering he had only briefly caught sight of your figure rushing through the trees. as he gets closer however, the mischief burns away into confusion, and then seriousness. why...were you wearing your gloves? wasn’t this just a trip to get more flowers? he’ll start to speed up after realizing the weight of the situation. as his feet catch up to yours he’ll place an arm on your bicep, slowing you down slightly. 

“something’s wrong, i assume? give me the ten second version”

as soon as he hears your recap, he’ll shoot off in a side path. you stared at him with widened eyes as he took you further into the thick of leaves. his fingers tangled in yours before he offered a quiet, “do you trust me?”

you did. 

xiao

“i’ve told you, if you ever require my service, speak my name”

xiao had immediately rushed to where you were in a blink of an eye. he had known something was wrong from the moment he could sense a change in your energy, the connection between you was too strong after all. without sparing another second, he flew to where you were, mindful as to not startle you. tangling his pinky with yours, he stopped you completely. 

“i know who did it. there is no need for you to go.”

the confusion on your face must have betrayed you as he quickly explained that he had seen the arrow make it’s way towards barbara before you pushed her out of the way. he had already tracked where the culprit was and planned to take them out himself. so as a result, there was no need for you to put yourself in harm’s way. 

the way your eyes softened when you lightly put your hands on his cheeks confused him. why weren’t you going back?

“xiao we talked about this. i can take care of myself, you don’t need to protect me”

your affectionate voice made his hands come up to his cheeks to clasp your own. 

“i know, but humans are just so fragile...”

his voice trailed off and you brought your hands down to link your pinkies with his again. 

“i’ll always be here, don’t worry”

he knew that one day you wouldn’t be, it was the tragedy of mortal life after all. but as he let you take him through the forest, weapons in hand, he thought maybe it wasn’t so bad to let you take the lead for once. 

ningguang

“you can stop, i’ve already sent the millelith to deal with them”

your pace slowed to a halt as her words hit your ears. keqing had already let her know of the threat when the millelith had reported suspicious individuals. the tianquan had made a mental note before telling a handful of her guards to stay alert in case she needed to send them in. when she saw the arrow hit the backboard, a silent flick of her wrist sent the guards dispersing through the crowd, ready to apprehend the foes. 

you sighed, sometimes you wished she would tell you these things beforehand. 

your urge to talk back died as soon as you met her eyes. the affection in them as she raised her hand out to you was a rare sight for others, but a common one behind closed doors for you. a small smile appeared on your lips as she pulled you close to her, slipping a qingxin flower in your hair. 

“why don’t we watch the rest of the performance hmm?”

[bunnirs]

Yandere! Gon and Killua with a S/O who tries to leave

Requested by: Anon!

“I don’t know if you do any yandere stuff but if you do I was wondering how would yandere killua and gon react to thier s/o trying to leave them for Accidentally Cheating. Thx love your blog”

First Gon and Killua request!! I’m so excited! For the sake of all things holy, ALL CHARACTERS WILL BE AGED UP A BIT. especially with the cheating thing 👉👈 UMM ALSO THIS IS MY FIRST EVER YANDERE TYPE THING SO IM SORRY 😭

Gon:

Alright this dude doesn’t see anything wrong with the fact that he cheated

HE THINKS ITS NORMAL??

And to think you’d get so upset over him ‘cheating’ on you??

He would never! He was just being ‘nice’ to one of tourists of Whale Island

A little to nice.

He’s the type of Yandere that thinks what he does is completely fine! He thinks he’s doing the right thing!

So that’s where you had enough.

Gon was a lunatic and you had to get away

Maybe you’d call Leorio or Kurapika, they’d help you

That’s all you had to do

Get to a pay phone and dial Leorio or Kurapika

So while Gon had left to do God knows what..

You packed your shit and walked out the door

Surprisingly.. you got to the pay phone rather easily

Your paranoia had shot up with the risk of getting caught

Like 📈📈📈📈📈

You made the decision to call Kurapika. He was more serious with this stuff.

You waited for Kurapika until it was dark out

But he came all the same

But you hadn’t expected to see Gon right behind him

That’s right. Gon had said something about visiting Kurapika. Shit.

You were an idiot not to pay closer attention

Fuck fuck fuck he looks mad

His eyes were avoid of anything,,,

His soulless hues stared into your own, and you felt like you could throw up

Kurapika seemed rather worried, asking what happened while Gon was gone

You couldn’t tell him about Gon being a psycho

He wouldn’t believe you.. right?

You made the choice in saying that someone had tried to hurt you, and with Gon away, you didn’t know what to do

Kurapika sighed and said he’d get a hotel and would scout the island for any suspicious behavior,,,

But he didn’t know that Gon WAS the culprit.

Soon after that, you went home with Gon.

“....You lied to him, Y/N.” There was a pregnant pause before your name, almost like it was hard for him to pronounce. “You never lie.”

“...Gon....” You said quietly, not prepared for whatever the hell he was going to say.

“Is this about the woman?” Gon narrowed his eyes at his feet, which moved as the both of you took the road to his house.

“No I just-“ you went quiet, not knowing what to say. Make something up. Fast. “I just wanted to.. get away from the island a bit.”

“Get away?” Gon’s dark expression changed into one of confusion. “Do you not like it here?”

“No! I like it here!” You said abruptly, your eyes widening. “It’s just, I was thinking of visiting my parents! See what they’re up too!” You nervously laughed, praying he didn’t notice your smile faulter.

“...Oh well...that’s easy.” Gon smiled at you, and for a second, you thought you did something good. “They’re up to nothing.” His eyes darkened, his smile widening a bit.

“Nothing?” You questioned, confused.

“They’re dead.” Gon hummed. “They kept trying to get in my way.. so I put them out of their misery. They missed you a lot.. and kept saying I kidnapped you! Which isn’t true right?”

You didn’t say anything. Nothing at all. The only thing that escaped your mouth were the harsh sobs, which seemed to shake your whole body. You fell to the ground, the rough asphalt slicing your knees, the stinging couldn’t compare to the state your heart was in.

“...Oh..” His voice lowered, the slight evidence of worry laced his tone. “.....Can you not speak..?” He grabbed your hand, kneeling before you.

You smacked his hand away, falling onto your back. “G-get the hell away from me!” You screamed, your hands slipping on the bloodied gravel below you. You kept trying to stand up, but it seemed that gravity pushed against you even harder than before. “Go away! For gods sake just leave me alone!”

He stared at his hand for about a minute, his mouth wide and agape. “Leave.. you alone? While your upset?” He seemed hurt, his eyes swelling up, tears appearing. “What kind of boyfriend would I be if I left you like this! You’re hurting!”

“Because of you! I’m HURTING BECAUSE OF YOU!” You screamed in his face, somehow gaining the strength to sit up.

“.......I didn’t hurt you! I would never hurt you!” His voice gained in volume, almost like he was panicking. “I just did what was best for both of us!”

“You did what was best for you!” You shoved your finger into his chest, your nail almost bending due to the pressure. “You never think about me! You force me to stay with you! I never wanted something like this! I-“

“Shut up.” Gon said suddenly, shadow overcasting his facial features. “Everything I do is for you... don’t you dare say it isn’t!” His hand quickly grabbed your wrist, the sickening sound of bone being crushed seemed to echo in your ears.

“Y-you’re hurting me... right now... you’re hurting me..” you whispered, trying your best not to cry even more. Your head already hurt from the screaming, the pain adding to your desire to pass out.

“You don’t know real pain.” He said coldly. “But you’ll find out soon.”

That’s all you heard before you eyes seemed to close, your body falling forward into someone’s warm embrace, the air being knocked out of you.

“But everything I do... is for you.. Y/N.”

Killua:

Thing is I don’t see him cheating :(

He’s so closed off as is, so it’s surprising he’s in love with you anyway!!

He’s definetly the Yandere who thinks that you need him

Like you’d be in danger without him

He’s definitely convinced himself that you’d die if you weren’t with him

And that makes him so friggin sad

He wants you to be happy

But he wants you to be safe first.

So, if you try to escape, that’ll make him even more broken inside

He’s a tragic yandere tbh

Wants to give you happiness and love, but he can’t let you out of his sight 😭

So you probably try to leave when he kills someone that was close to you

Probably a guy friend of yours

He felt like he was dangerous, and couldn’t have him taking you away

So he murdered him on the spot with a quick hand through the heart, his nails bloodied.

That was the last straw. You were living with a murderer.

How you would get out? You had no idea

You were in the Zoldyck Mansion. Locked away.

If anything, you could try talking to Canary. She liked you. A lot.

So that’s what you did. You told Canary everything.

She believed you almost immediately. She knew the Zoldycks were cruel... Killua included, no matter how much she liked him.

She’d try to smuggle you outside the gate

Hopefully the security guard would understand

That’s what got you here, standing from right inside the testing gate, Killua before you.

Canary was long gone. She had to stop the butlers from following you.. so you were alone.

“....What are you doing so far from home...?” He questioned, his eyes widened at the sight of you with bags in your hands. “It’s dangerous out here.”

“Killua, we’re inside the gate. You know it’s plenty safe out here.” You narrowed your eyes, nails digging into the leather holsters of your bag. You couldn’t back down now. “Besides, I can protect myself if need be.”

“.....Of course you can. I don’t doubt your abilities.” Killua rolled his eyes, his attitude returning to normal. “I wouldn’t date someone who can’t protect themselves.”

“....Then why don’t you act like that?” You felt a pang in your chest. He made it seems like you were weak.... He made it seem like you were helpless. Why would he do that?

“Act like what? Protective? I can’t do that?” He questioned, his defensive tone making itself clear.

“That is not what this is.” You countered, stepping back a bit. “You know this isn’t you being protective! You act like I’m fragile! Some glass vase that’ll break if someone pushes me to hard! I’m not! I’m a professional hunter just like you!”

“...You don’t act like it.” He pouted, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“How can you be so childish right now!? This is why I need to leave!” You stepped forward, your voice gaining in volume.

“...Leaving is a need? Are you sure you just don’t want it?” He stepped towards you, his voice getting low. He was definitely getting pissed off now.

“I haven’t been outside the gate in years Killua! You know how ridiculous that sounds?! Last time I interacted with someone from outside this gate, you fucking murdered them! He was my friend!”

“He was trying to hurt you!” Killua responded, his eyes darkening. “He was inviting you outside the gate! And by yourself no less! He could’ve hurt you!”

“Going out the gate isn’t a death sentence! I need fresh air Killua! I need to see people!” You continued to yell, throwing your hands up in the air dramatically, the bag in your hand almost being flung off to the side.

“You see my family everyday! They’re people!” Killua scoffed. “barely...” he muttered to himself, getting lost in thought.

“What if I don’t want to see your family anymore?! What if I don’t want to see you?!” You gasped right after the words left your mouth, hands covered your lips, almost in disbelief of what you had just said.

As your thoughts consumed you, you felt a slight pain in your abdomen, your body falling to the ground. Your bags cluttered around you, creating what ironically looked like a crime scene. He had just pushed you. That’s never happened before.

Killua stood above you, his eyes pulsating with dark intent, his aura covering for what seemed like miles. “....Don’t you ever say that!” He yelled out, tears almost appearing in his empty voids. “I might believe it one day! That you don’t need me anymore!” He grabbed the collar of your shirt, so his eyes could look into yours. “I can’t lose you like everyone else! Don’t leave me behind! I used to think you needed me but now I think it’s the other way around!” He cried out, tears threatening to spill. “I have to protect you with everything I have! I’ll continue to kill the people who try to take you away! So please don’t make this hard! I know you want to leave! I understand! But that can’t happen!”

You were quiet, your body feeling limp as he had hit a sensitive point on your body. “O-okay...” you muttered out, tears brimming the corners of your eyes. “I’ll stay.... I-“

Before you can finish, Killua hugged you tighter than ever before, knocking the air out of you. You felt like you could pass out, that feeling soon coming to reality as black dots filled your vision. He had somehow managed to manipulated you again. His worry getting the best of you.

Curse you for being so damn sympathetic.

[betweentheracks]

Hello and yay for this blog!!! I have a question :D. If a certain Chinese star were to wear jeans that say "my cock is gluten free" and "pull me down and fuck me," do you think his stylist would have chosen this knowingly, or do you think it's possible they just were like "hmm english words looks good" and didn't bother to look up the meaning? If they did know the meaning, would they have likely informed the star? Very desperate for the thought process behind this Choice hehehe. Thank you!

Ah, I was wondering hoping if I would get asked about those infamous jeans and here you are!

First and foremost; the following is all speculation from my experiences in the business and is wholly subjective. 

It isn’t impossible that they weren’t aware of what was written on the jeans, but it also isn’t all that likely either. When you pull up these jeans on the Dsquared2 site there’s a listing of what is doodled and written on the jeans and it’s not something that would be overlooked by neither stylist nor client. 

That said, Yibo does know some English and while he may not have known these words exactly, there’s more than enough ways of discerning their meaning. I would also bet half a year of my salary that his stylist would have known what was written here, or any number of personnel that works with them for that matter. I would also take into consideration that even if the jeans had slipped by all these people that may or may not have had the ability to see what was all over them, some of Yibo’s fellow idols should have (looking at you specifically, Seungyoun).

Setting this aside for a moment, I’ll go into who I think is responsible for the jeans being worn to begin with - Wang Yibo himself is the likely culprit. 

Why do I think this? There’s many reasons but most are inconsequential while two points frame the scene as I see it. 

This is markedly not a choice a stylist would make. Stylists, at the end of it all, are employees and therefore it shouldn’t be too surprising to know we have rules in place we must abide no matter if we are working outside the purview of the company we are housed under. Even when we work exclusively with a client, we are still taking the name of our company as well as our own with us and are operating as an extension of the brand the company promotes and promises. I don’t know of any company here (and I live in rather free faring place which welcomes eccentricities, mind) that would allow these jeans to be submitted as part of a pitch to either buy or borrow unless they were very specifically in line with a client’s public image and style. Technically these jeans would classify as offensive and profane which means they would invite trouble and cause a stir. While stylists are not associated much with the PR side of things we are still essentially a team playing for the same client - this selection, if gone badly, would be like asking for lightning to strike twice in one place at the same time. If a scandal amounted from them PR would have to handle it and that means the stylist would come under fire for making such a bold and risky choice, most especially with a younger client that thus far didn’t have the sort of image one would think to associate with jeans such as these. 

The second reason is that, from what I can tell, this is in line with Yibo’s personality. He’s very serious about style and engages with it as he does most things; by overtaking it completely and rebranding it to suit him to the point that it makes one wonder if the style wasn’t designed with him in mind. He makes full use of what fashion is all about at it’s core; expression. These jeans in particular would have suited the Yibo of the time he wore them (2018, if I remember right?) as he was trying to break away from the image he held as a pretty boy with demure and soft looks which held the shock value of being in such contrast with his dancing and rapping. He’s mentioned before that he doesn’t really like being “cute/sy” and having to do things in the way of that since it’s not true to who he feels he is. Which, honestly, a lot of idols and stars go through this experience where they no longer wish to be constrained by the persona they play for the public and one of the most impactful means of going about it is to address the styling since it is the focal point of public image. 

The Dsquared2 jeans don’t only say “my cock is gluten free,” there’s actually quite a lot to them and I think it would help if more were aware of it so here’s the description of them on the website: 

D Squared Limited Edition Jeans. Sexy Twist Printed Low Rise. Fun, Evil Boy, Love Sucks, Pull Me Down, Open Me, Unzip, Buttons, Wine Is My Water, Tic Tac Toe, Dean & Dan, Sex, Gluten Free Cock, Hot Patches

The jeans actually say “pull me down and fuck me” right there on the ass, but naturally they can’t list the expletives in the marketing. Not strictly important to this post, but still worth mentioning given the hushed treatment of what the placement of such words could easily imply and the effect that could have had. 

Anyway, the bit that is very telling in my opinion is that “evil boy” tag. I’m not terribly certain due to having never been fortunate enough to work with these jeans myself and the internet only has so many pictures from so many angles, but “evil boy” is either written somewhere (which I think is the case since there’s devil horns present as well) or they’re being promoted as such for aesthetic value. Regardless, I am fairly certain this would be the feature which caught Yibo’s eye. It’s on brand for someone seeking to shatter the conceptual ideal of being naive, innocent, youthful, or soft.

The jeans as a whole fit with Yibo’s sense of humor, as I’ve seen it at least. He lost his mind and fell into full laughter and hysterics over a dick joke, not even minding that he was being filmed or anything. He was still laughing about it even after the other hosts had moved beyond it, making them circle back around to it and in turn making it all the more hilarious for him to enjoy. You can see it clearly in the bts footage from the CQL set that he enjoys being mischievous and stirring things up and having a good time. 

This is who he is, I believe, and it makes a lot of sense for him to have made this stylistic choice and then either convince his stylist to let him run with it or change out at the last second. Both of these are possible, though one of them is less probable than the other given how tricky it actually would be to sneak a wardrobe alteration past the many people that make up the staffing roster for any events, and then to be able to change in the limited time frame available between exiting the dressing room to being in the public sphere would be one in a thousand. Much simpler to goad your stylist into being lenient enough to give you free reign over your own styling - we can only hold out and say no when the grounds for it are met, which this wouldn’t have done in all likelihood - and most of the time we build up a good enough relationship and rapport with clients that we end up doting on them a bit and heed their requests when we can.

That’s all from me on this token moment in Yibo’s very stacked fashion history. Thanks for asking!

Furthermore, there’s the third possibility that this wasn’t a styling choice whatsoever. Or at least not one that involved the stylist in any real regard. It is very plausible that this was just Yibo in his own clothes, having dressed down after the main events wound down. I’ve never actually watched to see what that night looked like overall, but from the videos I have seen it looked to me like the actual do had passed and they were all just goofing around and having their own dance competitions and such when he was wearing them. I can’t say for sure that he did or did not have them on for the whole thing or if they were his own self packed casual wear. In which case it would fall back to his studio to tend to since stylists generally don’t hold authority over personal clothing choices and only ever have a hand in it when it is expressly stated in contracts or temporary clauses, and it just isn’t too common anymore. 

Worth a quick mention for means of distinction, here in the US this choice wouldn't have raised many eyebrows no matter if it was chosen by an artist or a stylist. The only reason I feel it necessary to say this is simply because this is not so in China and that alone lends context to the controversy of these jeans. In the scope of conservatism these jeans are outrageous and I think that a stylist would steer clear of utilizing them at all if they value their job. This is why I don't consider it likely at all that Yibo and his stylist collaborated to make use of these jeans as a way to shake away the remnants of his pretty boy aesthetic.

[jeonqqin]

man up. [m] | pt. 6

h. jisung x reader | netflix rom-com au

— ❝Even with classes, annoying brothers, and an unrequited crush, you still figured your first year of college was going pretty well. Until you managed to get your first boyfriend, and suddenly your brother and his stupidly attractive best friend were attached to your hip for the whole damn ride.

or alternatively;

Why did Jisung care about you so much, and had his eyes always been that pretty?❞

WORD COUNT: 4.8k

CONTAINS: brothers best friend au, teen rom-com au, sorta crack fic, love triangle au, college au

WARNING: language, eventual smut, heated kissing, minor groping, a wee bit of angst 

A/N: sorry this one was late... like all the others. but hey you can’t blame me for trying lmao

▸ request

CHAPTERS:  01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07 | 08 | 09 +

blog masterlist | ⟲ fic song

© jeonqqin 2020

—UNEDITED

Your head began to spin as your eyes dropped to the text sent to you, the number attached to a name that you least expected. You would never admit to how fast your heart pulsed in your chest as you skimmed the words over and over. Had Jisung said anything to her about what happened?

Was she upset with you for sending her precious boyfriend into a panic attack?

Maybe you were walking straight into a bear trap but you couldn’t bring yourself to decline or ignore her message. The guilt of hurting Jisung was too fresh, so you had a hard time doing anything against him—and in a way, ignoring Hyunae’s messages was just that. You just hoped it wasn’t an elaborate set up where she jumped you and scratched your throat out with her excessively polished fingernails. But even if she did, it was pretty fair to say that you deserved it. 

So after your first class, you were able to hop on the bus for a quick trip to Haven, the thought of your next class lodged in the back of your mind. After the incident in Minho’s apartment, you hadn’t stepped a foot back inside. Granted it had only been twelve hours at the most, but it felt like days when it seemed like everyone was mad at you. Word of what happened traveled fast, and despite no one in your group of friends asking you about it specifically, you knew that they knew. You suspected that Changbin was the culprit, but you really couldn’t blame him. He didn’t exactly know the extent of the situation. 

But it was hard when even Felix seemed hesitant to talk to you. 

Chan was still there to text you every hour, even after you explained most of the situation to him. But he remained understanding and sweet. 

As he was all the time.

When you walked into the diner, a burst of warmth enveloped you and your nose turned up at the scent of comfort food and coffee. It was nice, and eased some of the tension in your muscles. 

Hyunae sat along the inside booths where most of the diners traffic was, close enough to the door that you could run if you needed to. She had her eyes cast down on her phone and your arrival hadn’t been noticed—you could’ve turned around and left then and there, ending all of your messy doubts and fears for the day. But you couldn’t. Your feet continued forward without your consent, dragging you those last final inches to her table. 

With the new presence, she looked up.

Hyunae’s eyes widened for a second, darting over your form as if to double check that you were really there. 

“I kind of didn’t think you were going to come.” She exhaled a small laugh, motioning towards the other side of the table where a still hot cup of coffee sat. 

You took the cup in your cold hands, “Thanks…”

You didn’t know what to say—the ball was in her park and she was in control of where things headed. 

She sighed, leaning back against the booth, her pretty skin flushed with the nip of the air. “I’ll just cut to the chase… I wanted to apologize for what I did—for everything that I did. I’ve been a bitch for a while, and I only realized it now.”

With her avoiding eye contact, you could openly gape at her confession, because—what?

The Hyunae was apologizing to you?

“I don’t—I don’t really understand why you’re suddenly apologizing.” You said, voice hoarse. 

Hyunae tugged her sweater closer to her form, arms curling around her waist as someone else walked through the door, sending a blast of cold air through the diner. 

“You know, for being a complete bitch to you while Ji and I were dating. It was all a jealousy thing to be completely honest. I didn’t actually—”

You blinked, waving your hand out to stop her rambling. You weren’t sure that you could process the first half of her words, let alone the endless ramble that she was capable of spewing. 

“Are…” you swallowed. “Are you guys not together?”

She frowned, brows furrowed.

“Jisung broke up with me, Y/n. Did he not tell you?”

The scratch of a broken record echoed through your head as you nearly dropped the ceramic cup of coffee all over yourself. 

“What?”

She nodded slowly, “I thought you would be the first person he told, considering…”

“Considering what?”

Her briefness and dodging was only making you frustrated, your hand waving in front of her face to finally gain her eyes. You had no idea that Jisung broke up with her, and you had no idea why. Some part of you hoped that the reason had something to do with you, but you just pushed that load of feelings away. It wasn’t fair to think of such things while the girl who had recently been broken up with sat directly in front of you. 

You really were a god awful person. 

She laughed a little, her eyes taking in your complete disbelief. 

“Well I’ll be damned. You two really are perfect for each other, huh?”

Before you could ask exactly what that was supposed to mean, you watched as her cheeks flushed a bright red—this time not at the fault of the air. Again she laughed, all humor aside, and her hands lifted to her face as tears leaked from her eyes. 

“God,” she sniffed, frantically moving to wipe her face with her sleeve. “You both really suck.”

You leaned forward awkwardly, passing her a napkin from the holder with a small tilt of your head. “I’ve come to realize that recently.”

She gave you a look that read, “don’t agree with me” and it managed to pull a laugh from your own throat. Hyunae might’ve been a little bit of a bitch, but it wasn’t without reason. She was insecure and jealous and those two things are away at someone like a virus. It was almost impossible to not feel such things at your age.

You always forgot that you were barely out of high school, the years of petty emotions and fake relationships hadn’t quite yet been erased from your minds. You were all in the same boat.

Just trying to learn along the way. 

“You know what’s funny…” Hyunae smiled, her eyes wet. “I always kind of routed for you two. I didn’t really know it, but it was always in the back of my head.”

You felt your lip wobble, but you bit it down, clenching your jaw. There was no way in hell that you were going to cry. You weren’t going to do that—you had no reason to. Hyunae was the one who just lost her boyfriend, and she was the only one who was supposed to be sad. 

“Every time you and him were together it just looked so right. I don’t know…” She swiped her hair over her shoulder with a sigh. “I honestly couldn’t believe it when he asked me to be his girlfriend, I thought you two had been a thing for a while—” right, you nearly forgot about the time when Hyunae was simply a friend. “—but then he came bounding up with a goofy smile on his face and that was it. It was over.”

Hyunae and Jisung had some math class together back in high school, he didn’t tell you much about her, but you knew enough to think she was a decent person. Back in those days, Hyunae was much different; sporting a thick pair of glasses and dark hair. But still just as gorgeous, as everyone with two eyes could see. 

She followed Jisung around like a lost puppy, and even had to be shooed away by Minho a few times. You were just glad that she listened, since Minho’s temper had been much worse then. You didn’t remember the details but you did remember the day that Jisung jumped back to your house with a big smile and flushed cheeks. It was a time when you were still an angsty teenager and listened to terrible love songs when you were in emotional distress. So that news was a real punch in the face. 

“I’m sorry.”

You didn’t know what else to say, she wasn’t exactly your friend, so you didn’t know how to take in and process the information that she just threw at you. 

Hyunae shook her head.

“Don’t be sorry. I had a feeling before that it was going to happen sooner or later. Who knew it was going to be so much later?”

You sent her a small smile. She wasn’t half bad when she wasn’t completely ignoring your existence and sending murderous glances your way. 

The waiter rounded up to your table—unfortunately, not Jeongin—and proceeded to ask you what you wanted to order. After Hyunae promised to pay for your meal as well, the two of you talked for what seemed to be hours. You didn’t talk about anything at all—going on about classes and professors that you couldn’t stand. Your mind was clear for the first time in weeks and it was beyond refreshing to talk to her about things that only another girl would understand. Being around boys every day of your life had taken a toll on you and you hadn’t realized it until you were laughing as Hyunae ranted about how obviously sexist your communications professor was. 

You could be yourself around the boys, of course. But with her, you could be someone you hadn’t been in a long time. 

With a fry between her fingers, she hummed, leaning her chin on her hand. 

It was only a matter of time before she reverted to what she came to talk to you about, and you tried your hardest to redirect the conversation each time it looked like it was going to be lead down that spiral of absolute hell—

“I think you guys would be cute together.”

You deadpanned, flicking your empty straw wrapper in her direction. 

“Are we really talking about He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named right now?” You quirked a brow, not at all happy with the way she snickered at your question.

“If it makes you feel better, Y/n… I think I’ve had feelings for Hyunjin for a long time as well.”

“Oh yeah, my guilt is cured.”

She nearly snorted her water, sputtering a little bit around her mouthful. You took a bit of pride in that. 

“I actually missed your sarcasm, believe it or not.”

Sighing, you threw all of your remaining trash onto one plate, your belly finally full and happy. “Wow, you actually remember when we didn’t hate each other?”

“You really hated me?”

“A little bit. Your whole lovey-dovey act was a bit sickening.” You shrugged. 

“Because you’re in love with Ji?”

You froze immediately. 

Hyunae couldn’t just drop it? Her constant mention of Jisung was really putting a damper on your mood, and the itch of fight or flight was really beginning to kick in once again. 

And to think things were going so well. 

“No,” you said, shaking your head quickly. “No no, I have a boyfriend. Sort of... I’m not in love with anyone—”

“Y/n, look at me. Please,” she reached over the table to tap your chin with her pretty manicured finger, her face pulling into a soft smile. “Darling, it’s been almost two years since we graduated high school, and nothing has changed between the two of you since then. Even while you were dating other people. He still looks at you like you hung the damn stars and you still blush whenever he calls you those stupid little pet names he has for you. You’re both whipped.”

Your face softened under her stare. Her words hit a cord inside of your chest, but it was just something that made your head hurt when you thought about it. You didn’t want to think about it, let alone talk about it. 

“Jisung and I have only ever been friends. Yes, we’ve been good friends for a long time, but he has never told me anything about liking me. If he can’t tell me something as simple as this then I don’t think I can—”

Suddenly her eyes were hard set, piecing fiercely into yours. It stopped you in your tracks immediately. 

“Don’t make me get any more upset with you, okay?” 

Hyunae was definitely a force to be reckoned with. 

“Listen,” She sighed, her eyes fluttering shut. “Jisung is the best guy I’ve ever dated and that probably won’t ever change. I want him to be happy, and I want you to be happy too. So please just think about things. I’m here telling you that this boy is head over heels in love with you—that he has been for years. His fault here is the fact that he’s so oblivious to his own feelings that he can’t see yours. He just—” her hands flailed in front of her, searching for her next words. “—doesn’t know how.”

You sighed. “I always liked Jisung when I was a kid. Hell, even earlier this year I could turn to you and say—yes, I am in love with Han Jisung.” 

Hyunae blinked. 

“But who the hell am I to say that I’m in love with someone? I’m not—I’m definitely not.” You sighed, mind wandering back to when things barely crossed your mind for longer than a minute. Things had been tossed around so lightly. “It was frustrating because it was so easy to like him when I was young. There wasn’t this huge word hanging over my head like there is now.”

Hyunae pushes her empty plate to join yours, speaking without a care. “You know that you don’t have to love him, right? You could simply like him.”

You felt the weight behind what she was saying in your chest, you didn’t have to label what you felt for him if you still weren’t sure. The only problem with that was that you knew what you felt for Jisung, and it was stupid. Because how could you look at someone and know how you felt when you hadn’t even seen every side of them? 

You couldn’t remember when he had last been serious with you. Never once had he looked at you with the eyes of an adult and told you about his inner thoughts. That wasn’t who Jisung was, he avoided those thoughts. 

He was only ever happy around you, and whether that was a good or a bad thing, you had no idea. 

“Was Jisung ever serious with you?”

Hyunae was momentarily stunned by your out of place question but she recovered with a small hum. “Well, a little bit. Whenever he was upset or tired he’d get a little snippy, but serious? I’m not really sure.”

That was just how Jisung was.

“Huh…”

“Oh,” she chirped suddenly, her lead raising as if she remembered something. “There was a moment when he was always serious.” 

Your head quirked to the side in question, eyes wide with curiosity. Despite knowing him for years, there was still plenty of unknowns to Han Jisung, and you were curious to know more.

“What is it?”

Hyunae’s mouth opened for a moment, then closed. Many things flashed over her face at once, but it was safe to assume that she was rethinking her words. Your chest fell. 

Her eyes darted away from yours, guilt flashing over her features. “I don’t think I can tell you that.”

“Not fair,” frowning, you pouted. “That’s the worst cliffhanger ever.”

She tisked, small smile pulling to her lips. “Well,” she shrugged. “You could always move forward to find out.”

She was right, you could. 

There were many things you had to move forward with, many people you had to have a conversation with; Jisung definitely being one of them. With a mental list of all the people that you had questions and answers for, everything only just began to clear themselves up. It was small, but it was something. Your head was always busy anyway, having things clearing out was like a breath of fresh air that you could barely reach. 

But it was still something. 

“You’re right. I think I just have to start with someone else.”

Hyunae smiled, “Get on with it then. Hurry your ass out of here.”

“Well, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t expecting this,”

Maybe you shouldn’t have listened to Hyunae. 

Your heart was pounding radically in your chest as you sat straight as a board on the spinning office chair of the notorious recording room. You hadn’t seen it since that day it all began—honestly it had seemed so long ago. The room was cleaned up and organized, all the wires neatly tucked into the back instead of sprawled all over the floor, and you found yourself focusing more on that than the person in front of you. 

You almost had to force yourself to your chair, everything feeling way too heavy for your liking. 

“What do you mean?”

Chan ran a hand through his messy curls. It was only a few days ago that you had wanted to run your own fingers through his dark hair. 

“You and Jisung aren’t very subtle, but uh, I was just hoping you could like me—” he paused for a moment, filing through his mind for the right words. “—as well, I guess.”

“Oh…”

“Hey, it’s fine. Jisung’s a good guy, you guys will be good together.”

Had you stepped into a parallel universe where every ex was supportive instead of filled with rage?

“But—well, I don’t even know if we are going to end up together or anything like that. My head has just been all over the place lately and I definitely never intended to drag you into this mess. I feel awful, god I’m a terrible person, aren’t I—?”

“Y/n.” Chan said, voice firm. 

Your cheeks heated at the realization of your otherwise embarrassing ramble. 

“Sorry…” You squeaked. 

Chan sighed, leaning more weight against his desk. “Don’t be sorry. I just don’t want you freaking out here. You need to know that I’m an adult too, none of this is all your fault.”

You froze for a moment—one stupid moment just looking into Chan’s pretty brown eyes and realizing how weak they made you feel. 

Chan’s mouth curled into a sympathetic smile as a tear rolled down the apple of your cheek. His hand reached forward to swipe the intact droplet with his pointer finger, and a small giggle rippled through his chest. 

“God—Don’t cry, stupid,” he suddenly brushed his hand over your face, an attempt to raise your spirits to the very end. “You’re making me feel bad.”

“I hate you…” You sniffed, swatting his hand away with a quiet sob. 

As his finger ran over your wet cheek to collect the little drops that leaked down, you weren’t sure whether to laugh or cry so you did both, once again crumbling under his touch.

“Hey,” he smiled. “You can’t hate me. I should be the one hating you.”

Your lip jutted out into a pout, one that he wanted so badly to kiss from your lips. 

“Then we can hate each other.”

Chan hummed, watching as your jaw clenched in an attempt to keep your emotions from falling down your cheeks. You didn’t want him to see just how conflicted you were, he knew that much. 

“Okay. We can do that.” 

And he leaned down to place a soft kiss to the top of your head, careful of the affection he gave you. 

But it only made your stupid heart hiccup in your chest, opposed to the way it would’ve raced had it only been days prior. 

With Jisung it was warmth that spread over your body, but with Chan it was like floating in a pool of water with all your clothes on; encasing and safe and just a little sticky. 

You were sure if you wanted to chase after the brief relief that Chan brought to you, it was difficult to tell with the way you were trying to find your answers. Was one more chance unfair to Chan? Even after explaining your inner (and slightly unknown) thoughts and feelings to him about Jisung, could you still salvage anything if you tried one more time?

“Can I… kiss you please?” You asked, neither looking in his eyes or at his plump lips. You really liked his lips. 

Chan smiled, eyes darting down to your little pout. He liked your lips too. 

“You want to?”

You hummed, a small nod to tell him that you were too embarrassed to confirm his words with those of your own. But Chan was understanding and patient. He didn’t push you to do anything as Jisung did—Chan was so perfect, why the hell did you think about Han Jisung?

What was wrong with you?

You didn’t want to answer that question. You wanted it all to go away—the fear, the confusion, everything. And the way Chan was looking at you made you feel it all simmer down to nothing. His eyes were so soft. 

You were backpedaling, you knew that. But it was hard not to when Chan felt so safe.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” His lips quirked up. 

You felt bad for not liking Chan the way you liked Jisung. He was better to love and he showed you everything you had missed before. He held you when you were sad, cooed into your ear that everything was going to be alright when it was him who was taking the loss. Why did he do that?

Leaning forward, you all but collapsed into his embrace, finally feeling his soft lips again. 

One thing you loved about Chan was his arms. You loved how they felt around you, and how strong they were. A lot of people liked his arms for those reasons too, you supposed. He may have been your first, but you certainly weren’t his. 

How long were you going to go back and forth?

Reassurance was what you had with Chan, but with Jisung there was time. You took your time with him unknowingly, watching him with your brother as they played video games in Minho’s room. You were yelled at, pushed, and locked out, but you still got back up and pushed back. As uncool of a sister you were back then, you persisted. 

Minho and Jisung would tease you and pick on you all they wanted, but you were still there at the end of the day. Tear stained cheeks and dirty clothes, and you were still there carrying your silly crush on your big brother’s best friend. 

There was time spent building something to stand on, years of pining and banter lead to a feeling that you couldn’t just replace with a kind heart and a kiss. 

No matter how nice the lips you kissed were. 

Chan knew this too. He knew you were thinking of so many different factors at once, and he was still pulling you tight to him, aware that your kiss would be his last from you. What he felt with you was terrifying. 

You both meant to forget. 

His arms held you tight, hands respectfully placed on your waist as you pushed and pushed into the embrace. The kiss was all new and too intense, but there was something screaming at you to just keep going. 

It grew more heated and your emotions mingled as a small voice began chipping away at the back of your mind; telling you that you didn’t deserve it, that you didn’t deserve him. Even as you found yourself lifting to your knees and straddling his waist, the voice persisted, not even silenced by the soft words that Chan spoke. 

“I feel like you’re going to break if I touch you.” He admitted, voice unstable. 

You shook your head in a daze, “I won’t, I promise.”

You wanted the thought of Jisung out—the thought of him touching another girl the same way Chan was touching you. Did he hold Hyunae like this? Did he kiss her like she was the most precious thing to him? Was there a chance that he would with you? Did he even want to? 

You wanted no part of that thought so you pushed further. 

“I’ll be okay, Chan. If it’s you, I’ll be okay.” You murmured.

Chan’s heart thudded in his chest. 

And in that moment, he almost forgot that you were in love with someone else. 

“Okay, I’ll take care of you.”

You smiled, a small burst of heat running over your cheeks. 

“Sap…”

Chan nearly responded with, “but I’m your sap” but he managed to bite his tongue, distracting himself by slipping one hand under the hem of your shirt. His hand was cold but not unwelcome as it felt along your stomach, and for the first time being with Chan your thoughts slipped—his hand was too strong, too rough. It wasn’t soft and pretty like Jisung’s, it wasn’t warm and comfortable like Jisung’s had been around your waist that morning. Chan’s hands were veiny and cold to the touch. Of course ther was nothing wrong with that. But they weren’t Jisung’s.

All it took was one hug from Jisung to stir up your head, huh?

But he had felt so nice against your back, his with but muscular build feeling like it was meant to be there all along. He had hugged you from behind back in high school many times, his chin resting on your shoulder and his breath fanning over your neck. It was hard to focus then, and it had been hard to focus that morning as well. How did you not know it was Jisung?

Sure, he and Chan were similar in height but Jisung just fit differently. 

And when his eyes landed on your neck, it had been the feeling of panic that crossed you. You didn’t want Jisung to see you like that—with another man’s markings over your throat. 

A sudden thought crossed your mind as Chan slowed his lips journey on your neck…

Was it really Minho that was preventing you from dating? 

The look in your brother’s eyes had been one of disappointment, but he hadn’t done anything, and deep down you knew there was no way he would really hurt the person you were in a relationship with. Of course he would scare them away and make it clear that he wasn’t a fan of you dating, but there you were, watching him do it, barely giving your big brother a slap on the wrist—

“Y/n,” Chan called, and you hadn’t even realized that he had taken his mouth off of your shoulder. “Babygirl…”

He tested the name on his tongue.

But his doubts were confirmed as you frowned. The nickname would’ve once sounded like heaven leaving his lips, but now...

He sent you a small smile after studying your features for a moment. 

“Do you miss him, right now?”

Your eyes widened at his words—you did. 

“No. Of course not,” you said, shaking your head with shaky inhales. “Why are you asking me that?”

There was an internal battle behind Chan’s eyes as he watched your face morph into discomfort. He was a little frustrated. 

Chan removed his hand from underneath your shirt. 

“If we’re going to be friends, Y/n… I don’t want you to lie to me anymore, okay?”

The shock that his words gave you made your eyes well up. It was like a punch to the gut to hear Chan scold you. He had never done such a thing before and you knew—you knew for sure that you couldn’t keep lying. 

When you cried, Chan didn’t wipe away your tears, he simply kept his eyes on yours as his hand rubbed small circles on your back. You needed to cry, and of course Chan knew that. 

He was Chan after all. 

“I’m so sorry—” you hiccuped, swallowing air as your palms lifted to cover your eyes. “—this sucks. This really really sucks.”

Chan sighed, feeling the sleepless nights catch up to him as he watched you break down. It was the worst feeling. It wasn’t that you were very obviously in love with someone else despite how his own chest aches for you to sink back into him and kiss the tiredness away, no—it was the fact that it was tearing you apart.  That was what hurt him the most. 

“Go see Ji.” 

Chan topped your head up with his finger, leaving one last peck to your tear covered lips. 

“He’s probably still upset.”

You nodded, laying your head down on his chest with a shaky sigh. “You’re a good guy, Chan…”

“Yeah, I know.”

[dannyreviews]

Give My Regards To Broad Street (1984)

My late aunt, like many baby boomers that came of age in the 1960s, was a die-hard Beatles fan. One thing she certainly was not a fan of was Paul McCartney’s solo career, to which she said that McCartney should apologize for some of his music from that era. While I find that opinion over the top, there is one thing that McCartney should apologize for and that’s the subject of this blog post. “Give My Regards to Broad Street” is a turgid ego trip the size of Liverpool, not worthy of the ex-Beatle and those who were involved in its production.

The plot is the most mundane and uninteresting set of circumstances. McCartney plays a fictional version of himself doing what he does best, working on a new record. What should be an ordinary task turns into a nightmare when word gets to him that master tapes have gone missing, presumably stolen by an ex-con assistant named Harry (Ian Hastings). If the tapes are not recovered by midnight, the sinister looking Mr. Rath (John Bennett) will take over the record company. But McCartney doesn’t seem too concerned. He goes from session to session, video shoot to video shoot, and then the plot even meanders into a poorly filmed dream sequence that lasts an unbearable ten minutes. 

“Give My Regards...” isn’t a total loss, there are some nice musical sequences such as beautiful renditions of Beatles classics like “Yesterday”, “Here There and Everywhere”, “Eleanor Rigby” and “For No One”, with fellow Beatle Ringo Starr at the helm. I only wish there were more of these nostalgic moments that show the immense talent of this musical legend. Instead, what follows are scenes of cheesy dialogue that belong in a MST3K hunk of junk, and more musical segments consisting of newer, albeit forgettable songs that seem to be stuck in the work-in-progress state. The sequence for one of those new songs, “Ballroom Dancing” is poorly edited and has disjointed choreography. Then there’s a re-recorded version of the 1976 Wings classic “Silly Love Songs” set against a sci-fi themed music video shoot that has all the musical flair of the original removed. It’s a shame because so many great musicians like Dave Edmunds, David Gilmour, Steve Lukather and Jeff Porcaro act as hired guns and they don’t look like they’re into the music, which one would expect if you’re jamming with a Beatle or two. 

Normally, when a film’s supporting cast has talents like Tracey Ullman, Bryan Brown, Philip Jackson and Sir Ralph Richardson, it’s usually a guarantee that you have a good film ahead of you. Unfortunately, that doesn’t seem to be the case here. Ullman is the biggest culprit here, completely overacting in her brief moment on screen with the most fake crying I’ve ever heard. Brown and Jackson, as McCartney’s managers, have an awkward banter that is more of a ripoff of Norman Rossington and John Justin from “A Hard Day’s Night”. And what about Ralph Richardson? What’s an acting legend doing chewing up the scenery, and especially when it was one of his final roles? Finally, you have Ringo Starr, Linda McCartney and Barbara Bach contributing nothing of note and standing around like film extras. I’m glad that George Harrison stayed away.

The sad thing about “Give My Regards...” is that Paul McCartney had nothing left to prove when it came to his talent, even in 1984. So why did he have to create a film so devoid of both cinematic and musical excellence? I think that’s the biggest letdown of all, that he had the ability to create something special and failed. Apart from only a few good scenes that do not even add up to 15 minutes, “Give My Regards...” is McCartney at his lowest point, a status that he would linger on for the next 4-5 years, until his 1989 comeback album “Flowers In The Dust”, and its subsequent world tour. Thankfully, McCartney has done so much better in the 35+ years since this disappointment.  

4.5/10