#I haven't been sick in at least seven years

[rhadinesthes]

It's not a bad idea to proceed with my plans to make tonkotsu ramen from scratch after waking up sick on only three hours of sleep, right?

What could possibly go wrong?

[melminli]

Cold Coffee

pairing: young coriolanus snow x fem. reader

summery - you liked working, and someone else liked you working for them.

word count: 2k+

contains: young president coryo, crack, fluff, secretary reader, coryo being lovesick and shy

You had a routine. A routine that you strictly followed every day and it started with your alarm clock waking you up at 5 o'clock in the morning. The first thing you did was get up and go to the bathroom to wash the sleep off your face, otherwise you couldn't get anything done. After you had finished everything else concerning your hygiene, you continued with your outfit of the day.

You liked to play around a bit when it came to your fashion choices. After all, you were living in the Capitol. Your job still demanded a certain formality and professionalism, which is why you were perhaps not as free in your choice as others, but that wasn't a problem for you. You always managed to find something elegant to wear since you had all kinds of clothing in different colors and fabrics that were perfect for combining with various other items. Whether vests, suit jackets, skirts, trousers or everything all together, it was entirely up to your mood. (Even though combining everything together was something you hadn't done since your school days at the academy.).

Then the last thing left missing was your hair and maybe some make-up, before you could step out of the house with your pre-packed bag. After a 15-minute drive in your car, you would arrive a few minutes early and were able to go about your duties as planned until it was time to leave at around 4 pm (if you were lucky).

You've been doing this every day for three years. Every day. That may sound exhausting (because it is), but you were also kind of happy about it since missing work would just mean that you had more to do on the following one. You rarely got sick, but when you did it was usually nothing serious so you came to work anyway. On the two rare occasions when you were really seriously ill, you were once off work and once you were lucky (or unlucky) that it was at the time of several public holidays. So yes, you haven't missed a single day of work - until today.

Your alarm clock died in the middle of the night.

"...huh - what's happening?" You asked, slightly drowsy, and it felt like you'd been asleep for far too long, a suspicious amount of long. Your eyes glanced at the clock on your wall, and you had to concentrate to keep the image from blurring. "...It's a quarter past seven." You finally realized, before widening your eyes and jumping out of bed. "It's a quarter past seven! I'm going to be late!"

In your stress to get ready quickly, you decided to get dressed first and quickly picked something out before scurrying to the bathroom to get ready. That was your mistake because while being a bit too hectic when brushing your teeth, you were clumsy enough to get toothpaste on your shirt. "No, no, no - ugh. I can't believe this." You whined and hurried so you could change again.

Hair? fine, make-up? Fuck it - okay, just go out and get in the car. At this point, you were already a whole hour late. When you arrived at the place where your car was supposed to be and couldn't see it, you started to panic and it didn't stop when you realized why. It's in the repair shop! Why, does this have to happen to me?!

"Okay, let's calm down for a minute." You said to yourself and took a deep breath of the cold morning air. It was quiet, only the chirping of the birds could be heard, it was still early in the morning. "That's just the way it is now. I'll just let someone know I'll be late and - " You said and took out your phone, only to realize that it was dead. This all was probably due to a power cut in the night, which also explained why your alarm clock wasn't working this morning. " - alright, I won't do that then. It's cool. Everything's cool."

Your day was off to a pretty bad start already. It would take you at least half an hour to get to work with the train, and you'd have to wait another half an hour since the last one left five minutes ago according to your watch. Yes, the morning commute wasn't exactly popular in the Capitol - the people here usually preferred to sleep in.

"You know what? I'm just going to treat myself to my favorite drink in my favorite café. I really can't do this right now." You finally decide and set off a little more relaxed. "I would argue that I don't get paid enough for this, but I actually get paid pretty well." You admitted but didn't care any more than to laugh about it.

Of course, no one would assume that the secretary to the president of Panem would get a bad wage.

Hm. Coriolanus looked at his watch again. His eyes had been darting there strangely often since this morning. Well, he didn't see you at all today, and normally you would greet him on the way to his office, and he would greet you back. After a while, you would come through the door and ask if he wanted coffee while you were already carrying it to him in your hand. This was followed by a little summary from you about what appointments he had today, who he was meeting and so on - it's not that important, the point is that he hasn't seen you yet and he didn't know why.

He got up from his seat and opened the door of his office to look out, but like before, you weren't sitting in your seat at the reception desk.

He then decided to look for his nearest employee. "Excuse me, Mr. Pox. I hope I'm not interrupting anything. " He announced his presence as he knocked lightly on the open door with his knuckles.

The man immediately stood up slightly nervously in order to appear respectful. He was older than Coriolanus, but he also wasn't the president. "You're not interrupting anything, sir! How can I help you?" He asked, a little confused. Oh no, he never asks me anything personally, I hope it's nothing serious. I'm not in trouble, am I?

Coriolanus reassured him as he subtly asked his question. "Well, I was just wondering where my secretary was. You wouldn't happen to know anything about her whereabouts?" He said, thinking it was a little stupid of him for not wanting to appear conspicuous. She works for me. I have the right to know where she is. This is not in any way inappropriate.

Pox was relieved when it turned out that this wasn't about him, but immediately felt a little guilty because you seemed to be in trouble. You were his nicest colleague, he liked you a lot. But I can't just lie to the president either. He's literally the president! He'll certainly find out if I do. "No, sir. Unfortunately not, she didn't tell me anything." He replied and just watched as the man in front of him hummed absently, which is why he quickly added. "Maybe she's just late?"

If that were the case, you'd already be three hours late. That was not like you, and Coriolanus began to subconsciously worry a little. She would let me know if she was going to be late. He thought to himself until he realized that you had never been late before, so he couldn't be too sure of his theory. Because that was what it was - just a theory. "Hm. All right, thanks for your time, see you then." He said goodbye to Pox and decided to go back to his office.

There wasn't really anything else he could do - well, except maybe call you. He stopped his steps for a moment at the thought. That feels wrong. Usually, you were the one who called him regularly or barged into his office so he didn't really have to. Well, sometimes he wanted to, but he doubted you would appreciate it if he contacted you after your working hours. He sometimes wished that his thoughts of you would end with your departure, but he hadn't really been successful yet, and for god's sake, he didn't know why. Well, I do - but it's complicated. She's my secretary and this isn't a stupid rom com.

He saw you all day. That is enough. It should be enough. It wasn't like he was looking forward to monday or anything since you started working for him - well, he was, but that was because of other things, for sure. It could be because of other things, he could find joy in other things.

"Oh, Mr. Snow. There you are." Your voice surprised him as he opened the door to his own office and was greated with your face in front of his. "I wanted to talk to you, but then you weren't here. I'm sorry I got in without your permission." You apologized sincerely and took a step to the side so he could enter.

"It's all good. You don't need to apologize." Coriolanus said calmly and sat down in his seat, subtly watching you move in front of his desk. "What is it?" He asked, appearing unaffected - as if he hadn't been thinking about you and what you were doing since this morning.

You looked slightly confused. "Well, I'm three hours late for work." You announced, sure that he would have noticed. "I know this can't be excused, and I'll get straight to work to make up for it, I promise. It's just that my car has a few issues and, well..." You assured him and placed a paper cup on his table. "I know I usually bring you coffee, and this is not the expensive one from here, but from my favorite café around the corner, but well..." You started rambling a bit and were a little more talkative than usual, which didn't go unnoticed. "...It also got cold on the way, and I spilled half of it because someone ran into me on the train." You added when you noticed how his gaze shifted to the stain at your side.

"Sounds like you had a pretty exciting morning. It's all right, don't worry, I'll turn a blind eye since it's the first time." Coriolanus replied with his slightly charming smile. You usually told him so little about your personal life that he unconsciously began to appreciate the little things he got to hear from you.

Like no, he didn't want to hear another stupid story about Mr. Aliose and his fucking hamsters. He almost felt sorry for the guys patheticness, maybe he could live a happier life if he put more effort into finding a wife than getting his pet to do a roll. Or from his other employees who tried to entertain him with uninteresting personal stories he didn't care about - because he didn't care about them.

And the one person he did actually want to hear from, kept their personal and work life very separate. He hated that it wasn't the other way around.

You nodded. "You don't even know. I don't expect you to drink this, by the way. As a matter of fact, I'll make you another one right now. It's just that - I worked really hard to get this to you, and it felt wrong to just throw it in the trash in the end." You let that bit out before returning to your professional self. "I just wanted that at least one thing would go right today."

Stay cool, Coriolanus. Don't freak out, and also, stop romanticizing this. "It's all good. I'm honored that you thought of me." He said, hoping he sounded natural.

A smile graced your face. "Of course, Mr. Snow. I'll be right back." You promised him as you stepped out of his office and made your way to the coffee machine.

As soon as the door closed behind you, Coriolanus let out the breath he had been holding. His hand reached for the coffee cup and turned it in his hand only to discover a small note on it. "For my boss and the boss of Panem :)" He read out loud and smiled as his thumb ran over the drawing of the snowflake. He couldn't help but take the little gesture to heart. "That's so sweet."

I should send out a car to pick her up tomorrow - for business reasons, of course.

[astonmartinii]

loving on a sunday | lando norris social media au

pairing: lando norris x reader

y/n and lando, the grid and an honest attempt at a sunday roast

masterlist if you want to leave a tip x

yourusername

liked by landonorris, maxverstappen1 and 601,239 others

yourusername: warning !! do not own a nice country house and farm because you will get lumped with the annual post season grid dinner, SEB PLEASE COME BACK I CAN"T TAKE THIS RESPONSIBILITY @landonorris what are you going to do when they find out you can't cook?

view all comments

user1: learning that lando can't cook is the least surprising thing in the entire world

user2: i'm sorry post season grid dinner? brb just going to cry my eyes out why haven't we heard of this before

user3: for my mental health i need photographic evidence asap

landonorris: way to bait me out in front of the whole world, thanks babe

yourusername: i'm sorry but if this crashes and burns i need people to know that it was your fault (because it defo would be)

landonorris: where is the faith? you back me to win every race but won't back me to make some roast potatoes :(

yourusername: babe when i was sick you burnt the soup so bad we had to throw the pan out

landonorris: I TRIED I WAS STRESSED YOU WERE SICK

yourusername: awwww babe, but it was le crueset and literally cost more than my life

sebastianvettel: it's been an honour to host it but i know you and lando will do great, send me all the photos !

yourusername: thank you seb, please come visit the farm at some point xx

landonorris: see i knew seb would have faith in me thanks mate

user4: lando's gf being a farm girl makes so much sense but also no sense what so ever

yourusername: tis the south west babe it's either banksy or farmers and nothing in between

landonorris

liked by maxfewtrell, yourusername and 1,023,677 others

tagged: yourusername

landonorris: should be peeling potatoes right now she's too pretty

view all comments

user10: oh to be a kitty cat being cuddled by y/n

yourusername: you're such a smooth talker babe but those potatoes won't peel themselves

landonorris: my years of being teammates with carlos has come in clutch

yourusername: you still suck at flirting i just love you so i still swoon, any other person would probably laugh in your face

landonorris: gonna ignore the insult and focus on the fact that you love me

user11: i swear every time i see y/n she's with another animal i've never seen before

yourusername: my farm is a safe haven for any animal, if they find themselves there they'll leave with a full tummy and a good load of cuddles

maxverstappen1: if lando is on potato duty does this mean we won't get them? they're my favourite part of a roast y/n PLEASE STEP IN

landonorris: oh wow i see how it is

maxverstappen1: i'm dutch i'm so serious about my potatoes

landonorris: i also don't fuck around about roast potatoes HAVE FAITH

user12: can we start a petition for lando to stream this? like at least the cooking portion

yourusername: watching my nervous breakdown live would not be ethical

landonorris: it's true she threw a carrot at my head the first time she cooked for my family

oscarpiastri

liked by landonorris, estebanocon and 590,455 others

tagged: yourusername, landonorris

oscarpiastri: officially a farm boy for the week (also known as third wheeling for seven days)

view all comments

user15: omg oscar went early? my mclaren heart is so full

yourusername: so so happy to have you here osc!! though you're not any more trustworthy in the kitchen

oscarpiastri: i'd defend myself but we've all seen me fail to boil an egg

yourusername: you tried your best !! but you've mastered the english tea which is a massive asset

oscarpiastri: i think i'd lose my seat if i couldn't make a cup of tea

user16: obsessed with y/n dragging everyone for being menaces in the kitchen

user17: love how oscar was like: post lando? no. post ducks? yes.

landonorris: mate you asked to come early don't complain about third wheeling now

oscarpiastri: i know i asked to come early but if y'all could lay off the soft porn for two seconds would be appreciated

landonorris: don't pretend you don't enjoy it mate ;)

yourusername: lando don't be mean :(

landonorris: i'm sorry oscar, i'm sure you don't enjoy watching us be happy

oscarpiastri: thanks i guess?

charles_leclerc

liked by yourusername, landonorris and 1,034,560 others

charles_leclerc: sad to announce i've been banned from the kitchen:( even banned from making drinks as well

view all comments

user18: this is defo the banning i agree with, we all saw the vlog with the pesto pasta

user19: tbf i've come to the conclusion the one person y/n would let into the kitchen is seb

yourusername: you're not wrong

user20: i need a chick in my dungarees right now

yourusername: why are you complaining about a free pass to sit on the couch and have someone else cook for you?

charles_leclerc: well when you put it like that ....

landonorris: let me revoke all of my previous complaints

yourusername: you know i like to treat you baby

charles_leclerc: why thank you y/n but that's an inappropriate thing to say while in a relationship

yourusername: it was in reply to lando's comment charles 😭

landonorris: guy forgot he could read for a second

charles_leclerc: MY BAD

user21: i know charles didn't come to a farm in all white

yourusername: i regret to inform you he did (it's all designer as well)

yourusername

liked by oscarpiastri, landonorris and 702,340 others

tagged: landonorris

yourusername: sunday roasts are my love language, so happy to host the grid dinner with the love of my life

view all comments

user23: at first i thought she was being a bit too serious about this but that roast looks like it BANGS

user24: legit i need one asap

georgerussell63: carmen wants the recipe please and thank you

yourusername: bring her to the farm next time we're free and i'll teach her in person

carmenmundt: thank you darling

yourusername: anything for you

landonorris: ummm what about the guy you called the love of your life in the caption?

yourusername: i love you but i've tried to teach you to cook way too many times

user25: i'm sorry lando is so sexy

user26: forget lando, every pic i've seen of this house is the sexiest thing in the world

carlossainz55: thank you for hosting y/n and lando!! i had a great time see you on new years

yourusername: no worries chilli

maxverstappen1: the roast was the best thing i've ever eaten, i'll only dock points because i had to top and tail with daniel

yourusername: i didn't see you complain when i walked in on you guys cuddling

danielricciardo: you told me you loved it :(

maxverstappen1: i did !!! i enjoyed all of it, especially the roast though

landonorris: second to a roast @danielricciardo that's tough

landonorris

liked by alexalbon, yourusername and 1,208,943 others

tagged: yourusername

landonorris: so honoured to host the grid dinner and take over from such an inspiration in seb!! but mostly thanks to y/n for hosting at her farm and putting together an amazing dinner and weekend - also thanks for not killing the grid, i defo would have

view all comments

user27: i would've given a kidney to be there for real

lewishamilton: thank you for having us and for the sick nut roast

yourusername: we love you and roscoe !! and vegans are always welcome on my farm

user28: ROSCOE WENT?

yukitsunoda0511: thank you y/n i no longer think that english food is an abomination

yourusername: wow thank you yuki, i knew it would be hard when your only exposure was ... milton keynes

landonorris: wow my girlfriend is a miracle worker, and you're welcome yuki san we loved having you

user29: watching lando go from rookie to hosting the grid dinner, i'm soft

oscarpiastri: i love it here i'm sorry you're not getting rid of me

yourusername: no worries osc, you can stay as long as you want

landonorris: no complaining about third wheeling though, you're basically our child now

user30: experienced racer and rookie teammate friendships are so special to ME

danielricciardo: glad i managed to get my seat back just for this roast tbf

landonorris: not cause you missed me?

danielricciardo: eh i guess so

yourusername: just let me know when you're in england and you can come over for another

[sil-writes-fiction-too]

The Fragility Of Human Life

Lucifer x GN!Reader

Genre: sickfic, angst, lots of hurt and very little comfort

CW: sickness, illness

A/N: this is a very short one and at first I really wanted it to be a fluffy, hurt/comfort sickfic but... well... it turned into full angst instead. I'm sorry ç_ç. I haven't written for Obey Me in a hot minute and this is what I came up with?? Poor Lucifer! This is my entry for Day 29 of June of Doom ( @juneofdoom ). I used the prompt "fever", more or less.

Very few things can scare a man like Lucifer. What could possibly pose a threat to the Morning Star himself? A snap of his fingers could be enough to burn anyone and anything down to ashes. He doesn't fear for his life, no. He didn't when he fought in the Celestial War and fell and he doesn't now. However... he fears for the people closest to him. His brothers, first and foremost. Any moment spent in fear has always been dedicated to them. He feels responsible to them, he must keep them safe. Even if sometimes that means being disliked. Up until now that was all he cared about, keeping his brothers safe... but then they came along.

He disliked them at first, not trusting them even for a single second and treating them like a potential threat to his family. I mean, what kind of human would just start collecting pacts with the Seven Rulers of Hell? Not an innocent one, if Solomon was of any indication. He could understand Mammon doing something so moronic as to forge a pact with the new human student... but his other brothers? Clearly this human was more cunning than they seemed. At least that's what he used to think back then. He still remembers the fear and the anger he felt when MC had meddled into his family's affairs, going up to the attic and getting involved with Belphie despite the fact he had made it very clear they were to stay out of his business. He remembers wanting to eliminate them right then and there as his family threatened to fall apart in front of his eyes.

He is very glad he didn't.

Because there are few things that scare a man like Lucifer... and there are few things that make him as happy as MC does. This one human came into his life, completely flipped it upside down, helped his family find happiness and harmony again... and stole his heart in the process. Never in a million years did he think he would ever fall in love with a mortal. If what Lilith felt was even remotely close to what he feels for them, then Lucifer is even prouder of being in the Devildom rather than the Celestial Realm. He'd do it all again if it meant being with them.

But one thing Lucifer wasn't ready for was being faced with the fragility of human life as a demon who is completely and hopelessly in love with a mortal. It is a harsh awakening every single time, whenever MC gets hurt or makes an absent-minded comment about how short life is. Such comments are now banned from the House of Lamentation. He wasn't prepared for the icy cold fear that grips at his chest every time he is faced with MC's mortality.. the same fear that squeezes his heart right now as he looks down at the trembling human curled up in his bed.

According to Solomon, MC caught a very bad case of the flu. He was quick to add that it generally is a non-threatening sickness, but the concern was more than evident on his face nonetheless and it worried Lucifer and his brothers half to death. He has to be calm and logical about this, but he can't help but still be afraid even though it is more than clear that his human is not going to die from this. It's just that... this is MC we are talking about. They are a force to be reckoned with. They faced countless threats bravely and always came out on top and with a smile on their face! They even came back from the dead once, for Hell's sake! But now they look so fragile and defenseless as their body is wracked by violent shivers.

“Lu...” comes their weak voice, immediately yanking him out of his anxiety-fueled ruminations. “My love...” he is quick to respond, sitting down beside them and gently clasping their hand in his to bring it up to his lips and press a gentle kiss to the warm skin. Their grip is so feeble... it fills him with dread despite Solomon's words.

“I'm so cold...” they chirp in a frail voice that makes it sound like they are about to cry. It absolutely breaks his heart. He doesn't waste another second and pulls the blankets all the way up until they come up under MC's chin, then he removes his heavy coat and gets into bed with them, curling up around them and wrapping them tightly in his strong arms. The way they sigh and further sink into his embrace makes relief wash over him. Even more so when their shivers seem to simmer down a little. This is fine, he will protect them no matter what, be it from other demons or from this god forsaken flu.

He knows they will be fine and back to normal in a few days, but until then he won't be able to ignore the truth of the matter. And the truth of the matter is that MC is a human, a creature much more frail than a demon. They are not blessed with immortality and, one day, he might have to finally face the fact that no matter how much he loves them... he will have to let them go. He wonders if, when that happens, he won't suddenly cease to exist as well. Because no matter the perspective he tries to take while thinking about it, he simply cannot fathom being able to live without them by his side. The beating of his heart doesn't exist without them. They are the breath that fills his lungs and the vitality that courses through his veins. With them gone... what could ever remain of him if not an empty husk?

[rachetmath]

Yang Priorities

Yang: Hey Jaune. 

Jaune: Yes?

Yang: Remember that question me and Winter asked you?

Jaune: Yes. 

Yang: Be honest with me then am I a good sister?

Jaune I mean you are better than me but not better than Winter or Sapphron.

Yang: How so?

Jaune: Yang you have been doing Ruby dirty for a while.

Yang: Not true.

Jaune: Yang on her first day you abandoned her. How do you think we met?

Yang: um.

Jaune: Our initiation, you never once tried to save her. Weiss did that. 

Yang: Okay but that was because she needed to toughen up. Especially if she is going for the big leagues.

Jaune: Okay. First mission.

Yang: Oh come on, I was asleep. I found her and hugged her.

Jaune: Okay. After the fall of Beacon. 

Yang: Okay you can not fault me for that. I was going through it. 

Jaune: You were crying over a girl. At least she was alive. 

Yang: I lost my arm.

Jaune: Protecting Blake who you were crying over. And you got a new one. I stepped up and went with Ruby to Mistral.

Yang: I eventually came back.

Jaune: You did. But not before going after Raven. The deadbeat.

Yang: She was my- 

Jaune: Bitch, you could've just called once you were close to the city.

Yang: It would have taken me hours. 

Jaune: You had a bike.

Yang: Still.

Jaune: Okay then back Blake. You talk shit about how your mom did you dirty. But suddenly when Blake did the same shit and came back you forgave her.

Yang: She's different. She did it to protect us. 

Jaune: That's great. But here's the thing, um, we were in danger anyways. What the fuck do you mean?!

Yang: … … I-

Jaune: And the crazy part is, you prioritize Blake a lot more than your own sister.

Yang: Not-

Jaune: Yang, Beacon you gave her a lecture because she was obsessed with the White Fang. 

Weiss: Then in the house, you got Blake out first before Ruby.

Jaune: Yang you were against telling Ironwood a lie and called Ruby out on it. 

Weiss: Not once but twice.

Yang: Weiss!

Weiss: You're right. He is going to do the same thing to me. But still.

Jaune: But all of a sudden when Blake wanted to talk with Robyn you agreed to that shit! With no debate!

Yang: Okay that-

Jaune: Then when that old lady talked bad about Faunuses, you were ready to talk shit considering your girl is a Faunus. 

Yang: Okay, I-

Jaune: Nah, bitch, I am not FUCKING done. The Ever After you were crying over your sister, but before, what were you doing that you didn't notice her having a mental breakdown?

Yang: Umm… well-

Jaune:  See bitch I should- Ooh. Ooh.  

Yang: Okay but-

Jaune: And then when she finally broke down. Start yelling at Blake, you jump in front, protecting her, from your own sister. 

Yang: Okay but I am still there for her.

Jaune: You're right. You do. But still, you need to start balancing Blake and Ruby because if you don't, then your relationship will be just as bad as Qrow’s.

Yang: Yeah you're right. But hold on what makes you worse?

Jaune: Yang, I have seven sisters. The one sister you met, I allowed all of you into her house. Eat her food. Cracked her walls. Risked her wife’s job and in danger her whole family to get us to Atlas. And guess what, I never told her about Salem or the mission we're on. She's probably worried sick especially because I barely write to her. 

Yang: Damn. 

Jaune: In fact I haven't talked to my family in years. I haven't spoken to anyone in my family since Beacon.

Yang: What? 

Jaune: You heard me.

Yang: Oh my God, Jaune, you need to go home. 

Jaune: *stressed out* I know!

[gyuswhore]

Pure Math 171

choi seungcheol x reader

wc: 2.5k

genre: fluff, humour

warnings: math. (1) dirty joke. thats it i think (lmk if there's more)

synopsis: Walking into the first class of the semester shouldn't have been as eventful as it was (not that you can complain for long)

masterlist

(A/N): I haven't posted a fic in a while so i hope i redeem myself with this one hehe. a million thank yous to @toruro for beta-ing for me (even at the dentists lol) you can thank her for this too shes the reason i finished so quickly kjvkdfjg

It takes a lot to surprise you. 

It’s not that you enjoy it, but your friends simply make it easy to read them. It took Soonyoung seven human years to learn the art of surprise birthday parties. You know, the ones where you aren’t supposed to know he’s throwing a party just for you. Or Minghao, before he learned the art of deceit, and held his disdain like a badge on his face. 

You seem to have honed the skill of psychics better than most, confident in your ability as a higher-risk party trick. 

Skipping into the new semester at uni, you enter your lecture hall at the reasonable hour of 8 in the morning, expecting nothing but the usual. No surprises were to come your way today, just another first day back, fueling for the coming months.

You push the doors of your lecture hall open, ready to greet your professor for Pure Mathematics 171, pushing your spirits high to commence your per semester buttering. What you find though, is the front desk crowded with students wanting to do the exact same, all for the professor that would be teaching the most dreaded unit of the course. Of course. 

You spot Soonyoung among the crowd as he spots you at the door as well. You note how gleeful he looks at this hour. This can’t be good. Hao too presses his mouth together in an attempt to conceal his budding smile, hand to mouth when he miserably fails.

What on Earth was so funny? 

Attempting to crane your neck, over and under, to catch a glimpse of the ever popular professor, you find yourself blocked by the sea of math nerds and ass-kissers just like yourself. Curiosity was becoming a little too much for you to bear, not that your friends sniggering and whispering while looking directly at you was helping at all. You were just about to march up to the two and demand to be put on their shoulders to see what the fuss was about. Until—

“Alright! It’s almost 8, let’s save the chatter for after class, how about?” you hear a voice boom in the centre of the anthill. 

You knew that voice.

You watch in slow motion as the hoard of bodies disperse, not missing the pointed glances of both your friends directed at the teacher’s table. 

And then you see it. Standing there, looking down at his folder sheets, dry-erase marker in hand. 

Choi Seungcheol.

Choi Seungcheol was your professor.

Your boyfriend was your professor.

How did this happen? Did he know about this? Was he keeping it from you? Were you blind when you read the clear ‘Dr. Kim’ next to your unit code? 

Seungcheol doesn’t notice you standing there slack mouthed and frozen in his classroom. Until he does. 

Instead of mimicking your shocked expression, you watch as his mouth goes to pull what you recognise as a smirk. 

Oh, he thinks this is hilarious. 

His eyebrows are raised as he questions you, “Will you be taking a seat, miss?” 

It’s then that you realise you're in the middle of a lecture hall with about a hundred eyes watching you as you gape at your collective professor. Could they be mistaking your imminent horror as you checking him out? 

If this was another situation maybe you would have, but this was starting to sound like a sick joke. 

But alas, you could not confront your professor like that, at least not in front of an audience. So you find it within yourself to slowly slug towards the staircase to plant yourself next to your friends. Both of whom were having the absolute time of their lives watching your dazed expression. 

You might have committed murder that day. 

You’re forced to snap out of it as you hear Seungcheol - professor Choi - begin to speak at the front of the class.

“Good morning everybody,” he starts, hands on his desk, a pleasant expression on his face as he awaits a response from his borderline comatose students. A chorus of good mornings greet him back, excluding your own.

“Hope you guys had a good break, welcome to Pure Math 171, my name is Professor Choi” he moves to scribble his name on the whiteboard, “And I would like to be referred as such.” 

His gaze finds you in your seat as he utters those words. He is quick to shift.

“We’re gonna be starting light today, I’ll be going through our unit guide and grading system…” 

Seungcheol talks. And talks. And talks. And you don’t listen. You watch instead.

You’re mad at him. Really mad at him. But you can’t help but wonder as he walks around looking like that. He’s in the simplest dress shirt and slacks of a neutral colour, but he wears it oh so well. 

You’ve watched him every morning as he gets dressed for work, knowing his attire has always suited him. Your friends who have been in his classes have expressed their disappointment when told he wasn’t single, and promptly draw open in shock when they realize it's you that’s snagged him before the world could. 

Seungcheol, for lack of a better word, hits different when he’s in his element. His hair is pushed back and out of his face, noting how his glasses look so much sexier when he’s pacing the room with hands dipped in his pockets. He’s speaking tongues of numbers and symbols, and it’s suddenly the hottest thing you’ve ever seen.

But you're mad at him. It shouldn’t be that hard to remind yourself. 

“You know, you’re being real ungrateful for a person who just got a free pass on the hardest class this fucking insitution can cook up,” Soonyoung whisper-shouts next to you.

Minghao quips beside him, “Look alive, sister, you’ve hit the jackpot.”

“Were you two in on it?” you finally snap, irritated at their apparent glee. 

Soonyoung snorts, “Fuck, no, we saw him when we walked in this morning”

“So did he know?” 

“Oh, I think Professor Choi would be glad to tell you himself after hours,” Minghao sleazes while Soonyoung throws you the greasiest wink known to man. 

Disgusted and disturbed, you turn your attention back to the front of the room. You’re still disgusted and disturbed. Seungcheol is still there, looking like he does, scribbling some example equation on the board. 

“Hmm. I think professor Choi ought to know his favourite student’s having trouble paying attention? We can’t have that, you should move up front.”

You do move. Away from your friends to the seats higher up. 

It’s a mind-numbing two hours in which you think you experience every emotion possible. 

You think of your friends who have sat in his classes all semester, that have ogled him and admitted his apparent attractiveness. There were people in this room that were thinking the very same thing in this very moment, and it was making your skin crawl. You wanted to get up and scream: This is your boyfriend.

But alas, you are but a tired, tired college student. He wouldn’t fail you, would he? Then again, he has a ruthless streak of keeping you from the lights of life when you’re slacking in dire times. You might be the love of his life, but he remains a man of discipline. 

It’s an annoying trait, but only ever in the moment. He might be the sole reason you haven’t completely lost yourself in the sea of academics. 

“I think we can wrap up with that, it’s basic stuff but it won’t hurt to revise on your own before next week when we really get into it,” Seungcheol’s voice booms.

There’s a churn in your stomach for some reason, and you have to neutralize your breathing as you watch the lecture hall slowly empty out. A few students remain lingering at the front desk for yet another round of buttering. Seungcheol entertains them, pleasant smile on his face, nodding along to something. You remain seated, arms and legs crossed as you stare daggers into the top of Seungcheol’s head as he speaks with his students. 

The remaining students file out as well, and you notice how Soonyoung and Minghao are long gone, leaving just you and Seungcheol alone in this big, big room. 

It’s only then that he looks up searching, to check if you had left yet.

He remembered quick. 

His eyes finally land on your, disgruntled, tight form, refusing to make eye contact for more than three seconds before huffing audibly, moving to put away your things. Seungcheol moves around his front desk, hands in pockets, hiking his way up the lecture steps to where you were at the top row. 

You’re shoving your laptop in your bag by the time he’s done with his trek, planting himself on the chair next to you loudly. You ignore him.

“Do you think we’d get in trouble if they caught us like this?” he muses after a few silent moments.

“Caught us like what?” You snap. There goes your pledge to remain silent.

“You can’t possibly think a teacher and his student caught in a classroom by themselves is necessarily a point in our favor” 

“I’ll do the honors then” with that you’re swinging your bag over your shoulder to trudge behind him to the steps leading down, wanting to be out of his presence for the time being. 

You’re barely past him when there’s a grip on your wrist, firm and purposeful, that tugs you backwards in a harsh manner. The bag on your shoulder is sent to the floor while you, in your entirety, are sent straight into Seungcheol’s lap. 

Bastard. 

The smirk on his face is enough to send you into a pot of livid fumes, right after you’re done balancing yourself on his shoulders. You try not to grip on too tight. 

“What makes you think you can leave without being dismissed?”  

“What the fuck.” 

“Language, miss. I don’t tolerate obscenities in my classroom.” It might’ve been a menacing threat, but with what lay behind the glint in his eyes you knew he was being a little shit. 

It takes you every fibre in your body to refrain from thinking too much about him. Him and his hands that rest on your thighs, him and his hands that are placed near your waist, stroking and pressing into your shirt. 

No, you're mad at him.

“Did you know?” you ask finally, tired of the back and forth.

“Nope,” he replies, “Found out when you walked in.” 

“Do you not read your attendance sheet? Isn’t that your job? You had the entirety of summer to give me a heads up, this is your fault!” 

“Dr. Kim got into an accident last night, she’s out of service for the rest of the semester. I didn’t know until I came in for my other class I was being switched over—” 

“How does that happen?!” you almost yell.

He’s silent for a moment before beginning again, “Do you want me to ask for another class?” 

Wait, what. 

“I didn’t say that—” You can’t finish because your being pushed off your seat on his lap to stand while he gets up as well.

“I’ll go talk to the co-ordinator then, class isn’t working out for me.” With that he’s trudging back down the steps, making a beeline for the door.

You’re left stunned at the top of the stairs, not knowing if he was being serious or not. Were you about to let his presence bother you that bad? To the point he had to switch classes? What were you even that upset about? 

Twirling around in place trying to look for the bag that was strewn about earlier, you grab the straps and race down the steps. If Seungcheol can hear your bounding footsetps, he doesn’t show it. Instead you crash into his back just as he’s about to leave the room, to which he turns around. 

The smirk seems glued to his face and you realize right then you may have been lured. With the 180° that had become of your perception, you couldn’t be mad at him anymore, cooling off the simmer that had been brewing for the past couple hours. 

“Maybe…Maybe I can live with seeing your face for a couple hours a week,” you mumble, suddenly unable to maintain eye contact.

He lets out an incredulous laugh, “Couple hours a week?! Do you realise we sleep in the same bed at night, pretty sure that’s more than a couple hours.”

“You know what I meant!” you huff, arms crossed and turning your head away. You cringe slightly at how you voice echoes across the large lecture hall. 

Feeling his hands enclose yours, pulling your body slowly towards him, you bring yourself to look back up at him. His hands come up behind you when you’re close enough, snaking up your back and waist. You try not to shudder, but it’s hard when you know he’s doing it on purpose. There’s warmth that radiates off of him, a stark contrast from the chill classroom, your fingers finding purchase around his own waist.

There’s more of that same warmth when he kisses you, short pecks, yet ones that have you smiling against his lips. The curve remaining as he rests his forehead on yours.

“Let’s go home, just need to grab my stuff,” he says, but makes no effort to move from his position.

“Are you already done for the day?” you frown.

“No,” he muses, “But it’s only the first day. Besides, I wanna sit in bed with my girl while I map her out for the first assignment of the semester.” 

“Does your girl get premium access?” 

“Hm, maybe.” 

Before you can refute, the door of the room bursts open with a bang that reaches straight into your soul. With the way Seungcheol’s eyes widen, you don’t doubt the same was happening in his own chest. 

There isn’t enough time for you to pull away before hearing gasps alluding from the threshold. 

Soonyoung and Minghao stand at the door, scandalized looks complete with hands over their faces. Hao shakes his head in mock disappointment, eyes pointed. Soonyoung pulls out his hands, framing them like he was taking a picture of the both of you gripping each other.

“Now what would the bulletin look like with these two on the front cover? You’re friends with Seok, right? D’you think you could put a word in?” Soonyoung yaps, the most insufferable look on his face.

Seungcheol laughs, to your surprise, and looks over to you, “What d’you think the bulletin would look like with his F on the front cover?” 

“D’you think you could put a word in?” you raise your eyebrows. 

His smile widens but he’s being pulled away as both your friends move forward to surround him. You vaguely register Soonyoung cupping your boyfriend’s face delicately, singsonging about their years of friendship, or how Hao has his arms wrapped around him in a back hug, head on his shoulder. 

You vaguely register any of it, because you’re smiling too hard at the scene. Smiling too hard when Seungcheol catches your eye, before bursting out laughing, attempting to wrestle the two off of him. 

You bring your phone up to the chaos instead of your hands, wanting to frame the scene for real this time. 

[littleplantfreak]

Wait for the tone, you know what to do~

Pairing: Umemiya Hajime x reader

Tags: SFW and no cws I think!

Word count: About 1.0k

So it's a songfic! I listened to Austin by Blake Shelton and knew if anyone would wait for you even after a year, it'd be him. I followed the song pretty much to a T

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵

It had been a year since you left him. The feelings from back then still haunt you, but you thought they would've been long gone by now. You were an idiot, to be clear. You got so scared of how hard you fell for him and how good he was for you that you ran a few towns away without so much as an apology.

Since you'd left, though, the bed feels cold and hollow, or maybe that's just you and you're not sure if it's a good idea, but you decided to call him. If he changed his number, you wouldn't blame him in the least. This was your fault after all. He was so in love with you back then, he looked at you as if you'd brought the sun out every day, and put it to sleep every night. You fiddle with the necklace he gave you on your first anniversary, the one you still haven't brought yourself to take off, even on the few dates you've tried to go on. If he answers, great; if he doesn't...you're not sure what to say.

The phone rings three times, and you hold your breath as you hear the sound of his voice mail.

"Hey! If it's Hiragi, I'm teaching the kids to swim over at the gym down the street," and you can't help but puff out a laugh. Of course, he is. "It was a last minute thing since the regular teacher got sick, so meet me there if you wanna grab a drink tonight! Oh, but if it's Sakura, I'm still having that barbecue tomorrow night, and yes, you and your girlfriend are invited and then some. Bring as many plus ones as you want! It's gonna be an amazing night. If it's anyone else, just leave me a message." You hear a slight pause before you almost press the button to hang up. "...If it's ___, I still love you." and your breathing stops at the way he sounds. His voice is still so full of affection; it sounds the same as the day you left, and you drop your phone by accident. The screen is shattered, but you can tell it hung up. The spidery cracks of the glass in your heart stabbing and slicing at the wound you'd tried so desperately to close, reopen it from only seven words. Seriously, this guy...who even says that?! Who knows how long and how many times he'd changed his recording and still kept that in there.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

It takes three days for you to get a new phone and get it activated and synced up. You can't just text him. That is in no way a text conversation, you tell yourself. Let's try this again. Three rings, just like before. Okay, here we go; you brace yourself, wondering if it'll be the same one from a few days ago.

"If it's about the fundraiser at the library, donations go to Kusumi or you can drop them off at the cafe. If it's Saturday, we're going to the beach for the weekend! I'm trying to 'unplug' a bit, so unless it's an emergency, I'll get back to you Monday! Have a great weekend. P.s., if this is ___, I do still love you!" The tone is different this time. A little more chipper, and it may be due to the beach trip. He always did love dragging you there for the day. He'd wake you up at 6 AM, lifting you out of the bed, blankets and all, to hold you to him and whisper that he's kidnapping you for the day if that's alright, and he'd never fail to mumble the last part since he knew you'd have to call off work for it. It didn't matter; you'd call off work a thousand times if it meant you'd get to hold his hand on the train again.

You leave your number. That's it. He should know your voice, right? You feel the cowardly part of yourself that you hate so much rear up only for you to shove it back down. No more running. If he's waited for you this long, he deserves the best version of you that you can give right now, not the same one that turned tail at the first sign you'd wanted to spend your whole life with him. So you'll wait for Monday.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

Umemiya knows that voice anywhere. You didn't leave your name, but it has to be you, right? His hands shake a bit as he hits redial, and he curses himself for going to the beach now. He needed it given how stressed he's been lately, but of all times to miss your call. What would you have said? What would he have said? Are you going to answer? The phone is ringing, and for the first time in a while, he's speechless.

"If you're calling about my heart, it's still yours. I should've listened to it a little more. Then it wouldn't have taken me so long to know where I belong." Oh, it is you. He should've known immediately; he was just afraid to get his hopes up. Your old number called the first time, and he nearly had a heart attack rereading the numbers over and over to make sure, but you didn't leave a message, so it could've been accidental. He didn't want to push you further away than you already were. The last time, the number you gave was new. He wondered what that was about, but he has the chance to ask you now that he's sure you reached out first. "Not sure if you're still there..." your voice trails off in a nervous chuckle, while he's silently panicking that he hadn't given any response, "...but if you are, I still love you too."

"No I do! I am...You too- I mean I still love you too- also-," He's never been so unable to articulate the thousands of things he's wanted to tell you and say to you, and he might just get choked up if he's not careful.

"Thank you, Hajime," You say, and this time you're going to run straight for him, no looking back.

[dreamyvill]

On purpose -2

Roman reigns x oc

Lauren is handling her ex-boyfriend from colleges divorce, he and Lori embark on a journey that proves how things happen for reasons. Either hers or his will it work out this time.

Her thoughts are slanted and this is somewhat proofread.

Previous part

This was my last case as a divorce settlement lawyer before I returned to being a prosecuting attorney. When I first went to law school it was to be a criminal attorney but when I graduated I was desperate to get out of debt and get a job so I settled into a smaller firm that paid well and was able to pay off my debt a few years ago but over time every last case became my last until the next one came along. I meant it this time Joe Is my last case and hopefully it's open and shut.

Making my way into the next conference and meeting I had with Joe walking down the long white minimalist halfway, with bright white lighting and pieces of furniture here and there and a mixture between abstract and a kind of Picasso. Opening the big gray painted white oak door laying eyes on the tall, brown eyes that I hadn’t seen in damn near twenty years, his hair was wrapped in a military style bun with his salt and pepper beard and he smelt more than heavenly when he reached in for a hug before we broke apart. I watched him drink in my grown woman's body. I hadn’t always had the curvy of curves but after college my grown woman body really settled in and I was more than in love with myself.

“Hello Joe, can you give me a bit of background or insight into your marriage over the last few years?” I said sitting down getting right into it sitting himself across from me and the polished oak table that matched the door. Looking back and forth between Joe and my pen and notepad as I waited for him to answer the question.

“Hi Lori, I'm doing great thank you for asking, haven't seen you in a while but that's okay.” he said sarcastically, having a conversation with himself using a bland tone before seeing my face and sitting up clearing his throat. “It was amazing the last few years but i've been working a lot between the traveling and long distance she couldn’t handle it and wanted to divorce about three years ago but I wanted to save us and suggested counseling and that i'd cut back on working and for about seven or so months it worked and everything was blissful but then I got an amazing storyline and it projected my career up and i started making more money but then i was way for way longer and we barely got to see each other and a few months ago she served me and said it was over and she didn’t want to try again.” he listed I wouldn’t dare and say I knew him because he’d changed so much since since id last seen him but i could see sadness in his eyes when he listed off the last few years with his wife Juile.

“Okay so what do you do for work?” I asked, jotting everything he’d just told me.

“I'm a wrestler, including endorsements of at least five million more if I book a lot.” he told me

“Okay and your wife wasn’t able to travel with you?” I asked him looking up.

“No, she gets sick in a car long distance and she works as a trauma surgeon so it’s hard for her to take time.” he explained watching me write it down, before asking my next question i made sure to make direct eye contact with him. “Did you at one point or another cheat on your wife with anyone whether that be emotionally or physically? I need you to be very honest with me.” I asked, waiting for something to change to tell if he was lying. At this point Joe had spoken with firmness in his tone and kept his answers short but detailed.

“No, because i was working so much i was too tired for sex at the end of most days.” he said staying firm with his tone and maintaining eye contact not seeming nervous at all.

“Okay and I don’t expect you to know this but did she at some point cheat on you in any way?” I asked keeping the same vibe, not one of tension but honest and open.

“No, she didn’t” continuing to answer firmly.

“Okay, and during the counsouling what was the conversation like?” i said counting to ask my normal oeping questions.

“Same things i just said working long and late and she felt like we weren’t married anymore and she felt neglected.” he reiterated

“And finally do you have any children?” I asked him

“Five, two set of twins four and six and a older daughter who just made fifteen.” he said making my eyes slightly bulge out of their sockets.

Damn

Hearing his deep chest laugh

“Sorry its just damn anyhow is there anything else i should know?” I asked him.

“No” he quickly gave

“Okay we’ll be intouch and figure out numbers and settlement later it seems like you both are ready to move on, this should be finialized by nexty month.” I said walking him out the door wanting to get the day over with.

Finally getting home just after ten o’clock I was beyond worn out and itching for a bubble bath, unlocking my front door hearing the automated voice announcing my arrival, my mother was standing in my kitchen over the stove.

“Momma, whatcha doing here?” I asked her sitting my briefcase down and stepping out of my heels my height dropping as I took them off one by one. Standing over with her hands in her hips looking at me some kind of way.

“Is that how you speak to someone let alone your momma?” She said with her ‘fix yourself tone’.

“Where Joe?” She asked looking behind where I was sitting and into the walk way.

“At home probably” I said standing and looking through the pot seeing chicken that hasn’t been fried yet as well as red beans with sausage and rice on the stove.

“I told you mama we’re not just going to fall out of the sky into a relationship, I’m just his divorce attorney.” I told her leaving the kitchen to go into my room and take my bath for bed.

Turning the faucet on and filling the tub floor with bubble solution slipping out of my clothes and into the water feeling the water warm and the bubble form on and around my wet body. Taking in a deep breath peacefully before my momma busted into the bathroom.

“Momma!” I said frantically gathering the bubbles to cover me before she smacked her teeth at me and with a wave of her hand said.

“Girl I’ve seen every crevice of your body you ain’t special.” She said sending a small ping to my heart but nonetheless shaking it off.

“That doesn’t matter, momma I’m grown you can’t do that.” I pouted at her. “God why does she always make me feel like a child”

“You worried about the wrong things you need to worry about how you gonna get Joe back, he’s doing more than well for himself with his play fighting.” She pointed

“What happened to this all being immature and besides that was a long time ago.” I said sinking I to the bath wanting her and this conversation to stop.

“Girl money is forever don’t be dumb now I’m going to finish the food and be on my way since you wanna act like you don’t care about nobody.” She said with an attitude walking off. Which made me sigh and just lay there and enjoy the warmth.

Getting out of the tub sometime later I dried my body off and did my nightly routine, slipping into a big tee-shirt before dipping into the kitchen for some food seeing a plate made and everything else cleaned up. Eating my food I thought about yet another guilting conversation with my momma.

I didn’t understand why she flipped from mommy dearest to getting like that. Finishing up and putting away my dish I slipped into bed and allowed sleep to take me.

-

[curio-queries]

I saw Jungkook's documentary this weekend and have just a few thoughts. If you're avoiding spoilers, don't click the cut!

The Hybe Documentary Format

So...as a reminder to you all, I do not have professional expertise in the film industry. I'm just a very discerning consumer. I also haven't seen Hobi's documentary and I watched Road to D-Day while I was quite ill last year so I only vaguely remember some bits. (I'll definitely be getting back to those sooner rather than later though as research for a series of posts I'm developing.) That being said, I think we have enough data points to state that Hybe has absolutely no interest in filmmaking techniques outside of music videos.

I did mostly enjoy my experience seeing this film yesterday and I'm always grateful for any amount of footage the members are willing to share with us but this 'documentary ' was worse than Jimin's Production Diary. Any of you that managed to make it through my rambling review will know how dissatisfied I was with that.

I Am Still is not a documentary, it's a mixture of showcase footage and behind-the-scenes clips, most of which has already been divulged in the various episodes and shooting sketches on YouTube. Honestly, if you're not able to see the film, just go rewatch all of the bangtantv content for JKs solo period and the showcase and you'll be up to speed with 85% of what was in the documentary.

There are definitely some expansions to the storylines featured in the bangtantv content; mostly being anything that wasn't overtly optimistic. For example, we learn a little bit more about just how sick JK was during the Seven/3D promotions. That content likely was pulled from the bangtantv edit because it would have put a damper on the promotions and given certain 'fans' a focus to fixate their vitriol. But overall, it feels more like an extended version of existing content rather than a new work. At least JPD didn't continually feed us footage we'd seen before.

I'm someone who gets completely bothered by previews spoiling content so I didn't watch any of the promos until after I saw it and I am so glad I skipped them because most of the 'original' scenes of the film were featured in least one of them. Alas, that's a separate issue of which I'm definitely in the minority.

Was There No Structure?

Kinda. Like JPD, there is a semblance of a structure: Attempting to follow the chronology of release activities for JKs GOLDEN album through the lens of JKs staement trying to prove that he is still worthy of everything he was being hailed as during the BTS group activities but I don't feel this was successfully executed. It jumps round enough and isn't very successful in explaining the events if you didn't already know about them. The film starts with the SEVEN performance at GMA and footage that we've already seen of JK recording SEVEN, not mentioning anything about the music video or really how JK got involved with the song in the first place. The rest of the story beats have similar missing points.

They have a vague narrative with the 'I Am Still' points but that's mostly carried by subs and a couple of moments that JK mentions himself. I'm not saying it's not true or wasn't top-of-mind for JK during this process but it's not the main point of many of the moment/messages he shared with us during this time period so it feels a little disingenuous since everything else jn this film really only makes sense if you've already seen quite a lot of behind-the-scenes content.

Honestly, it makes me question the intended audience. Obviously, they know that ARMY will shell out whatever we need to when there's new content from our members but most of us will have already seen all of the bangtantv content so we are already familiar with the most of the footage in this film. I genuinely don't think this was produced in such a way to be palatable for audiences not familiar with BTS so who does that leave? Our friends and family that are peripherally aware of the content but haven't learned the basics of JKs album? ARMY with short term memories only?

But again, it seems this film was compiled by an editing team and not lead by a director with experience in crafting a documentary. The only new footage that Ican guarantee was captured with the express purpose of being included in this film was the few clips of JK talking in the practice room with the albums displayed by him. But we all know that's where all of the promo clips were gathered as well. I have issues with that approach as well but I'll leave this point alone for now unless anyone is interested.

Suffice it to say, all of these suppositions over the past year about how JKs documentary was getting special treatment or even questioning about investment in a project up front are dead. This was a product assembled with bits of what they already had completely in-house which was sold for distribution.

So, Did We Learn NOTHING?

No, there are a few Golden nuggets (see what I did there?). I can't recall everything having only seen it once (and having a rather disruptive audience - I swear there were only dozen or so ppl in my theater but I forget how obnoxious teenagers can be. I'm glad they're enjoying and supporting but we really didn't need light sticks flashing during a film and how many times does one person need to get up to answer their phone during this runtime? Three according to the row in front of mine.)

Anyway, something I thought was interesting to learn was that Standing Next To You was initially recorded the day after JK heard it for the first time. And hearing a little more about how JK yearned to perform that song definitelygot me thinking a little more about it. We can't reach any conclusions just with this little nugget but it does open the door to some theories. Like perhaps they were initially planning to have JK record two separate albums? SEVEN and 3D would be the singles of the first and JK would perform them as we saw but perhaps STNY was originally planned to be the single of the 2nd album that would release while he was in the military and thus be unable to perform it? Maybe JK loved STNY so much that everything was grouped into one album and Never Let Go was the only track held back for ms? Definitely some theorizing space to be had now.

Final thoughts?

Similar to my thoughts on the GCF: Budapest (which I feel would have had a much better reception if it had been labeled as a bangtan episode rather than a GCF), I AM Still should not have purported to be a documentary. It was much more similar to the annual Memories compilations. But the general public would not have shelled out the $25 to go to a theater to watch a Memories DVD so alas, we have our content packaged as a ~documentary~...

Did my view on the music change at all? Not because of the documentary. We're coming up on the year anniversary of GOLDEN and it's still definitely not my favorite. I completely understand why some people like it but it's just not to my taste. The overall impact falls a little flat for me. Too much breadth and not enough depth. I came into my musical soul during the 00s emo phase and will always be a sucker for music that absolutely drips in an emotional way rather than catchy songs vaguely referencing heartache and love. Again, just a matter of viewpoint.

I do think most of these songs stand much better being shuffled amongst other artists in a Playlist and several of them are significantly better when JK sang them live but I still won't be listening to them regularly. I wholeheartedly believe JK completed his task of proving himself as an extremely dedicated and versatile singer and performer. He's definitely got some solid points added to his resume after this project.

[hypequeenves]

NEW TO THE BLOG? READ ME!

Enchantée, my loves! Welcome to the blog! <3

Just to let you know that this is a story based blog, with an alternative style of story telling. The plot is revealed mostly through the lens of different types of technology. From Sinstagram posts to security camera footage, this Hellaverse AU centres around my OC Vesper:

Vesper is a popular popstar and sinner operating within the Pride Ring. She is soul contracted to Vox, and was designed around the idea of a 'hypeman' for the Vees. Her outfit is loosely based around a cheerleader, and her abilities are based off a Siren.

The story is told through a bunch of different mediums - mostly images, but I do have some audio files on here along with some music! I did not expect to be writing music for this, but here we are! So if you'd like to stick around, I'd scroll right to the bottom of the blog and explore the story!  SPOILERS BELOW - If you haven't looked through the posts thus far and don't want to be spoiled, come back after!

THE PLOT THUS FAR:

(I didn't just wanna write the plot point blank, so I wrote it like POV: Your at a movie night and your best friend is telling you the plot to the prequel movie so you have *context*)

We're diving into the wild world of Vanessa LaBlanc, this mega-popstar who goes by the stage name Vesper in the Pride Ring. But here's the kicker: her climb to stardom? It's only been about seven years! Insane, right?

So, her smash hit 'The Devil You Know' rockets to the top of 'Hell's Hottest Hits'. It's like her big breakout moment, and suddenly, everyone's got their eyes on her.

But here's where it gets interesting: turns out, she's been hanging out at the Hazbin Hotel, but not just for kicks. Nope, she's on this super-secret spy mission, keeping tabs on things. And her deal with Vox? Let's just say their whole working relationship is one big question mark.

Then there's this whole issue about her being under some soul contract with Vox, so it's not all rainbows and sunshine. But Charlie, being the sweetheart she is, rallies everyone to support Vesper at this major award ceremony, and guess what? She totally wins and takes home the prize!

But after that, Vesper goes MIA, ghosting everyone's texts and calls. Finally, when she resurfaces, it's because she's been tied up shooting some ad campaign. Turns out, her and Vox had this major fallout over the ad's ethics.

And get this: the product of the ad? Love Potions! Vesper's kinda backed into a corner she doesn't think its right - but Vox makes her do it anyway! You can see the strain it puts on her and Vox's relationship. It's messy, to say the least.

Then there's this whole backstory between Vesper and Angel Dust, like they used to hate each other and Valentino admits to being the reason behind it. But now that she's staying at the Hotel, they seem to have made up! Val's flipping out, convinced Vesper's up to something, but Vox is tells Val to calm down, because 'it's not like before' that she's 'under contract now'.

Things really hit the fan when Vesper and Vox have this big blow up over some news article about her going public with staying at the Hazbin Hotel. But in the middle of all the drama, you can see there's this genuine care between them, buried beneath all the chaos.

And then there's the bombshell about Vesper's new album, 'Absolution', which Vox drops on her out of nowhere. She's not thrilled, especially when she finds out the album cover's shot in Val's flooded studio, and she has a deep-rooted fear of water.

Things get tense between Vesper and Angel, too. He's worried sick about her, but she's not having any of it. And then after the album shoot, her relationship with Vox starts unravelling big time.

And that's pretty much it thus far!

[saltsicklover]

Part Seven

This one is on the shorter side, but there is so much angst and imagery stuffed into this baby. Once again, hurt my heart to write and I hope you enjoy it!

Title: Once an Asshole, Always an Asshole

Pairing: Robert "Bob" Floyd x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2700+

Rating: R

Warnings: Swearing, illusions to nausea/being sick, mentions of blood and loose teeth, pocket knife/blade, so much angst. Mentions of the Bradshaw's. Dumbass Bob Floyd.

Second Chance Romance!

Disclaimer: I do not own Bob Floyd, or anything related to Top Gun Maverick within this piece. Not Proof Read or BETA'd. All mistakes are my own.

I do not consent for my work to be edited, reposted, or translated.

You are responsible for your own media consumption. This is a work of fiction that may contain mature themes. If you are sensitive to those subjects, please do not read.

---

Sunny disappears into the crowd, leaving the Daggers standing there, open mouthed and confused, too stunned to do anything but stand there. Natasha takes that moment to bend down to pick up the object that was thrown at Bob's chest; one of those gift shop pocket knives, the name "Robert" engraved on the side. The paint is chipped, the letters once a beautiful turquoise now flaking and faded. 

The swell in Bob's chest leaves him feeling flaky and faded too, chipped around the edges from the confrontation. Palms are sticky with sweat, his fingers sticking together. He doesn't meet anyone's eyes- she walked out the door with his gaze still stuck to her shoulder blades. 

Natasha is angry now, all the hurt that was directed at Bob has seared pain into her skin. Phoenix holds it out to Bob but he doesn't notice, his eyes unfocused, the colors of the crowd swirling around his vision. 

Bob is drawn back to the Daggers with a swift push to his shoulder. He's met with Natasha's burning eyes melting their way into his own. She slams the blade onto the table, her palm doing little to muffle the sound. Bob jumps, gooseflesh breaking out over his skin. The sick feeling swarming in his stomach doesn't let up, and neither do the eyes of his teammates. 

"What is this, Bob?" Her tone is sharp, so sharp he can almost feel the way is slices across his skin. Maybe bleeding would have been easier to digest. When he finally flicks his eyes over the object, his peripheral catches Natasha's hand tensing and releasing. The turquoise is older now, worn with age and use, but he would recognize it anywhere. His luck knife. He hasn't seen that knife in ten years. He lost it on Prom night, he lost it after his fight with her. All of his luck must have gone with it. 

"Oh my god, I haven't seen that in..." Bob's words trail off, the puzzle pieces finally falling into place. His eyes go wide at the realization, heart beating erratically. 

Sunny had seemed familiar to him the moment her hair dropped from the delicate twists she had it pulled back in. From the way it dropped in front of her eyes, the little hints of color peaking out from behind them. He swore he recognized the gentle slope of her jaw, the undisturbed flesh from the tip of her chin all the way up to the lobe of her ear. 

Her jewelry glittered in the light, yet his eyes were transfixed to her skin- the familiarity of it. The flesh of a long lost love that he couldn't quite place. 

Frankly, he should have recognized her the moment her brows lowered in frustration, after all, he spent the later portion of his teen years looking at that same expression. Suddenly he wishes she was still standing in front of him, giving him that awful look; at least then she would still be standing there with him. 

He had only seen her in a dress once, but it was shrouded by the darkness of the sky, then. He remembers it perfectly, the delicate beading and the cool feeling of the fabric. He remembers the tennis shoes she wore and how the sight of them made his heart flutter, laughter falling from his lips. It was the most authentic he had ever seen her. 

Bob knows that he could pick Duchenne out of a crowd, blindfolded and unannounced. He could figure her out by touch alone- from the way her breathing would catch as he let his fingers trace over the plane of her torso, feeling her bottom rib with a gentle brush of his knuckles.

That's not to say he wouldn't recognize the way he smelt, the vanilla perfume layered over a musky cologne. Or the way her lips tasted like cherry flavored Chapstick, (something she only wore because it reminded her of how his tobacco smelt, not that he was privy to that information), or how her lips were still chapped beneath the viscus, sticky layer of product. 

He would have recognized her touch, the feeling of her knuckles pressed firmly to his own chest. From the way her rings dug into his skin, wrinkling his clothes, and the way his heart tried to beat out of his chest to get even closer to her- if his heart could've touched her hands he would have let her hold it.

After all, Bob walked into love with her with his eyes open; it wasn't until he was already in love that he closed his eyes and let the self preserving hate take him over. His heart was Dr. Jekyll, his brain Mr. Hyde, a story told a thousand times before, yet it's still unclear to himself as to which one happened to be evil. That's how it goes right? The inability to see the evil in oneself only to have it be their downfall, their demise? 

Bob would cut the evil out of himself with that old pocket knife, use up the rest of the luck left beneath the still-there chips of paint , and it wouldn't be enough. He would still be back to the same old story, Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, this time with more blood and just as much heartache. 

So, Bob lies to himself- he lies that he didn't recognize her because she had changed so much, but in reality, he was the one who had changed. It didn't matter that he did it for her; he still lost sight of what it was all for. He lost sight of her. But, he thinks, if he could have just touched her with his eyes closed, he would have known it was her. His heart would have known with it's relative location to her hands. His heart calls to them like the moon calls to the waves; he only wishes it was strong enough to pull them closer. 

Bob thinks he might be sick, the feeling of pulling G's nothing compared to the punch to the gut the last few minutes had been. The center of his chest aches, source unclear. 

"You better tell me what the hell is going on right this second Floyd, or I am going to kick your ass so hard you won't be able to sit in the jet next week," Phoenix's voice pulls him from his spiral. She slams her fist onto the table beside her. Bob flinches, eyes squeezing shut, tight. He has heard her angry before, scared before, pissed off before, but nothing compared to the way she was striking the fear of God into him now. 

"Duchenne," Bob begins, not quite trusting his voice, "That's her, that's Duchenne... Oh my God,"

Bob feels unsteady, the ground is swaying beneath him. His body flushes hot then cold then back again, sweat slick and hot to the touch. His stomach twists, threatening to take his heart in with it. He manages to lean against the table, a hand on the sticky wooden top. 

Natasha is steadily putting the pieces together, one by one. It was slow work, like winding red string from clue to clue, not being able to see the whole thing from this close. It's all inky fingerprints and unfocused photographs. Her fingertips might as well have been dyed red from all the the theories she has created in her head, only to unwind them herself to construct another. Her brain aches with the pain of papercuts. 

Rooster is still in the dark, the expression on his face giving light to that fact. His emotion is hidden behind the thickness of his mustache and eyebrows, the facial hair hiding the confused displeasure written into his features. He had been too busy keeping Jake from jumping into the middle of the whole thing to pay enough attention to the details, the entire situation like trying to solve a puzzle without the picture on the box, a couple of the crutial pieces lost. 

Hangman on the other hand? He is just far enough away to see the whole picture clearly. The whole mother fucking thing, the outline of the string from clue to clue; from the way Sunny reacted, her knuckles white, voice pained, all the way to the way Bob sways on his feet, green around the gills, eyes bleary with unshed tears. He sees it all perfectly, and it makes him see red. 

"What the fuck did you do to her?" Seresin speaks up this time, his voice levels above that of Natasha's. Bob flounders, going a shade greener. Hangman is not surprised at Bob's lack of explanation, the man has always been quiet and unassuming, but he doesn't have the patience for this, for waiting. 

Bob manages to stammer out a couple of useless sounds, none of which come even close to an answer that Hangman would deem acceptable. Bob's brain is playing catch up, the whole evening on rewind. Hell, everything Phoenix ever told him plays through his head on fast forward, the stories jumbling together in his brain, lacking detail. 

Bob was so sure he was going to like Sunny, that she would be his absolute definition of perfect. And fuck, she was, she is, she has always been. And he fucked it up so many years ago and now it looks like there is no chance of any sort of redemption, not with the way Sunny looked at him. 

Again, he thinks, maybe the blood would be easier. At least wounds on the outside can be tended with gentle touches and medical care. It's the beyond pained expression Sunny wore and the venom in her words that are forever circulating through Bob's bloodstream that can't be treated. There is no cure for heartbreak, not like this. 

"Bob, you will not get a second warning, I will not be asking you again," Hangman begins to move towards Bob, moving step by step, inch by inch, each micromovement a warning to the WSO, speak now or forever wish he had, likely with a mouth full of blood and loose teeth. Bob shudders. 

He might be sick. He swallows bile and mucus that have begun to mingle in the back of his throat. The mixture doesn't go down easy, a lump stuck in his throat. 

"We went to school together," Bob speaks up finally, the words coming out scratchy, maybe a little detatched, "And I- I was horrible to her. The whole time- I-" 

"Robert Floyd, you better be fucking joking. Duchenne?!" Natasha yells, the lightbulb moment finally hitting her. She angles her body towards Bob, now boxing him, right along Hangman's side. "My best friend, Sunny, is your Duchenne? The girl you tormented for years, the girl who you told wasn't worth it, breaking her fucking heart right before graduation?! That Duchenne?" 

"Yes," The word fell from Bob's lips so sheepishly he barely hears himself utter it.  He lets his vision swim with the colors of the Hard Deck patrons again. He wants to shrink away, fade from existence. 

He has never seen his squad so mad, the anger dripping off of them, puddling around his feet. If he's not careful, he might just drown in it, face down on dry land. 

That began the yelling. Somewhere between the lack of eye contact that the barely heard words, Natasha's heart broke all over again for her best friend, just like it had the night Bob confessed everything to her in the safety of his truck cab. 

Hangman has surpassed pissed. To have seen a woman upset at the hands of a man, was one thing that ignited rage within the man, but when it was Bob who had caused such pain, and when the woman just so happened to be Sunny, Hangman could have torched a whole town.

 They were both ripping into Bob, and he just stood there and took everything they gave him. He deserved every piece of it.

Nothing would change his mind from the fact that he fucked up. He could still hear the sound of her strangled cry, the same one that has been playing on repeat since he walked away from her all of those years ago. That would've been bad enough, the strangled cry a broken record in his psyche, but the look of her tear filled eyes is now burned into the forefront of his mind. 

He fucked up, worse this time than he has ever before. Far worse. 

Rooster used the commotion to slip out of the bar and after Sunny. He found her down in the sand, leaning against a life guard tower. She was sobbing, harsh cries wracking through her body as she shook. He didn't know if it was from anger or if her body was just trying to release all of the tension. It didn't matter either way. 

"Hey, Sunshine," Bradley begins, his voice soft "Do you wa-" Before Bradley can finish his sentence, Sunny has thrown herself into his arms, grasping onto the only bit of loose fabric she can find at the small of his back. She tries to speak, the words coming out jagged and hoarse. They aren't anything Bradley can make out. He doesn't bother to try, he knows that listening to her comes later. What she needs, right there in that moment is something to ground her back to reality. She needs to keep from slipping further and further into the atmosphere, her brain running haywire in the clouds. 

Bradley brings his arms up around her shoulders, one hand coming up to the back of her head. He cradles her head against his chest, his fingers moving gently over her scalp. He repeats the same movements he learned from his mother, the comforting touches he would receive after nightmares and when he had episodes of grief over his father. 

He missed his mother in that moment, as he hums out a melody just loud enough to be heard over her ragged breathes. His brain flashes with images of his father, few and far between and a little blurry. The song was his first. Then it was his mother's. Now it's his to share. 

Slowly he sways her back and fourth, the motion small but deliberate. She lets out a deep breath, one that she didn't realize she was holding. The fingertips against her skull seems to bring her crying to a lull, her body no longer shaking. Her hands tremble a bit, still tangled in the top of his uniform. He can feel that it's no longer tucked in the way it should be, and the tears on the front side have turned the once crisp tan fabric into a dark, patchy mess. 

"Let's take a seat, Sunshine, so you can catch your breathe, then, if you want to, you can tell me all about what just happened, okay?" Bradley's voice is so quiet as he whispers into the hair at the top of her head. All Sunny can do is shake her head yes before she untangles herself from around Rooster, attempting to dry her tears with the backs of her hands. He takes her by the elbow, guiding her down to the sand below. 

Bradley leans his body back against the guard tower, legs spread out in front of him with her body sat between them. He pulls her back into his chest, hands running from her shoulders down to her elbows and back up again, yet another thing he learned from his mother. He had sat just this way with her more times than he'd care to admit. She would say that it helped to regulate breathing, but in reality, it was to help keep her from bursting into tears right along with him. 

He keeps his head back against the tower, eyes looking out at the lapping waves. Sunny looks out at them too, slowly finding the courage to tell Bradley everything.  He hums the tune again, the silence filled by the lapping of the waves. Sunny can still hear her heart beating in her ears, blood rushing. Somehow, she knows, that this is exactly how seeing Bobby again should sound- crashing, rushing, and a gentle lullaby. It's everything they have ever been, and maybe everything they will continue to be, even if Bradley has to sub in the tune right now, in this moment, under the amber glow of the full moon. 

Sunny's hands still shake, pins and needles vibrating from within, like they are being called a million miles away from her; or maybe sixty or so yards away, up the staircase and through the crowd of the Hard Deck, right to where Bob Floyd's heart sits beating erratically in his chest. 

[yeliuxi]

In Bloom

In which Jing Beiyuan, Helian Yi, and Bai Wuchang all deal with their unrequited feelings, and the flower-spitting sickness that comes with them, throughout the seven lifetimes. For @eghfeithrean! Thank you for your prompt for @danmei-action <3 There are many free prompts gifted for other fans to request their ideas. Check them out here!

Words: 1.4k Rating: Gen Additional Tags: Implied Canon Major Character Death, Set During Jing Beiyuan's First Lifetime (partly), Angst, Hurt No Comfort, Hanahaki Disease

Read on Ao3 (also under the cut)

In the first lifetime, Jing Beiyuan stares down at the white silk in his hands, unable to find it within himself to be surprised.

The rope of silk is strangely luminescent in the hour's low light, soft and mournful. It's almost soothing. The strangely melancholic peace is only disturbed by the sudden, violent cough that wracks his body. Petals fall from his mouth and into his half-open palm, fall against the three zhang of silk that he holds, red stark against white.

Yes. He suspected something like this would happen.

He had to assume something had changed, after all, in the weeks leading up to this evening.

Jing Beiyuan has been suffering from the flower-spitting sickness for some years, almost as soon as his hair started to prematurely turn white. He had known he loved Helian Yi quite a bit before that, always admiring him as children and teens. He had some assurance, then, that his feelings were returned, however privately; or, at least, that they would be.

Jing Beiyuan would be lying to himself to claim to not know the reasons for the sickness's development. The flower-spitting sickness first started as a few small petals, an unexpected surprise when trying to clear his throat after being sent away from the eastern palace, the servant claiming Helian Yi was resting, and had requested not to be disturbed. It was no coincidence Helian Yi started to create space—but not too much, never too much—between them after Jing Beiyuan and Zhou Zishu first proposed their scheme to oust the Second Prince.

It only grew worse from there. Their major falling out had only exacerbated the sickness. From a few petals, easily hidden, to long fits and bouts, a constant ache beneath his ribs and a scratching in his throat. But everything—everything—was all for him. Only for him. 

Jing Beiyuan still can't seem to make himself regret it.

"Master!" a voice calls, breaking him out of his thoughts. He looks up to the doorway, unsurprised to find the one member of his staff who might be up at such an hour already rushing over to him. "Master," Ping'an says again, hurriedly grabbing onto his arm to steady him. "Master, your medicine—"

Jing Beiyuan cuts him off, shaking his head. He draws in a firm breath, choking back the rest of his coughing fit.

"Master..." Ping'an trails off, his face growing as white as a ghost's.

Jing Beiyuan follows his gaze down to the white silk in his hands. He shakes Ping'an off with a huff, even as some guilt pangs in his heart. I'm sorry. I haven't been a very good master, and I'm unable to continue being yours. "Leave me," he says, voice rasping.

Ping'an hesitates, staring back at him with a tightly knit brow, his mouth hanging open in shock. "Master..."

"Leave,"  Jing Beiyuan says, sharper this time.

Though he hadn't raised his voice, Ping'an flinches away as if slapped. 

Ping'an ducks his head, tears already gathering at the corners of his eyes, and steps out without another word. He does not miss that Ping'an has taken the bowl of medicine with him.

And like that, it's just Jing Beiyuan. Jing Beiyuan and the dark emptiness of his own residence.

His chest aches, his ribs tender from coughing. He moves toward the low table, but is wracked with another fit halfway over, and drops the white silk onto the ground.

Beiyuan, why even bother being this way?

He pounds his chest with his fist, letting out a painful wheeze as he shakily lowers himself to the floor.

In the dimly lit Prince Estate, Jing Beiyuan sits on the floor amongst a small pile of red petals, and already knows what he will do. What he must do.

Zhou Zishu will arrive later, and Jing Beiyuan will tell him as much, too.

(What he doesn't know, in fact, is that deep within the palace, the emperor, too, is spitting up flowers.)

---

It happens sometime after the first lifetime, the year Bai Wuchang is punished to stand in the corner. His form is stiff and stifling, and does not allow him to become more than mildly agitated when reflecting on his mistake.This is why it comes as a surprise when, after months of ruminating on that person's fated love that he had ruined, he first feels the itch in the back of his throat.

Such a thing has never happened in the many years he's served as Soulhook Envoy in the underworld. He has not gotten sick, in large part because his current form won’t allow himself to stress enough. Standing still in place, he coughs, trying to clear whatever was stuck in his throat. Two small white petals flutter to the ground, right out of his lips.

He blinks, staring mutely at the two petals beside his feet.

It only happens twice more during the ten years that he stands in that corner.

When the human whose life he ruined returns to the underworld, over and over, Bai Wuchang occasionally feels the stirrings in his chest, one of the only things he's able to feel in this form. As always, the human sits beside the Three Life Rock, and waits.

Every day, Bai Wuchang crosses the Naihe Bridge, and watches the person at the rock. And almost every time, seeing that person never once turn their head toward him, that feeling in his chest returns. It crawls up his throat when he's talking with Hu Jia while watching that person, persistent and almost painful. He coughs into his sleeve, and watches the small flowers fall. He clears his throat as Hu Jia stands by, concerned, spitting out the last of the petals.

"Soulhook Envoy, are you alright?" Hu Jia asks, staring down at the petals in alarm and disbelief.

Bai Wuchang knows what humans call this: the flower-spitting sickness. "This is..." he trails off. An infection, formed by unrequited feelings. There really is no explanation that he can come up with. And yet, as Soulhook Envoy...

Bai Wuchang shakes his head. The Netherjudge, standing some distance away from the Naihe Bridge, is watching them. He looks over at Bai Wuchang, but does not approach. He simply watches, then sighs, and turns away.

Somehow, Bai Wuchang is left feeling like a child who does not know what they've done wrong.

---

In the seventh lifetime, Helian Yi already knows his case is helpless the minute he hears of this Ming Hua from brothel grounds. The shards of his teacup remain sharp and stinging in his hands, which drip with red.

He's already alarmed the servants enough with his outburst, draining the color out of the maids' faces. What seems to alarm them more is the sudden cough that follows, the sudden rain of small pink blossoms.

The jealousy that grips his heart is indeed a new thing, but he swallows this, along with the rest of the iron-tasting petals, down just enough to contain himself. His hands are still shaking with the effort.

He takes a carriage straight to the Prince Estate, after yelling at the maids and refusing to see the imperial physician. It can wait, this all can wait, until he can confront the person in part responsible for--for everything. All of this. All of the bitterness and flowers that well up in his throat until he's choking on them.

Helian Yi is let immediately inside, and storms the entire way to Jing Beiyuan. The worst part about it is that he seems unconcerned, unbothered by it all. He's lazing around, as usual, books haphazardly left about the room. Jing Beiyuan just tells him to sit, as simply as that, and has the audacity to scold him.

Jing Beiyuan's hands are warm when he bandages the wounds. He doesn't know why that surprises him. Jing Beiyuan is warm.

(Something in the back of his mind tells him that seems wrong.)

His touch is gentle, light, almost like he doesn't dare to linger long on Helian Yi. Of course not. It sends a pain through his chest, in his gut, and that iron-like taste rises in the back of his throat again. It surges violently through him, his body shaking with his contained coughs. He feels the flowers, the petals already in his mouth. He presses his lips shut, refusing to let anything out. He swallows it back. (He thinks about chocking that neck of Jing Beiyuan's.)

When he looks up again, Jing Beiyuan's hand is still raised to him. He stares at Helian Yi, some unnamable, dark expression crossing his face.

(In the future, Helian Yi will become even more familiar with this unnamed expression. And each time, he will not like it any more than he does now.)

"Your Highness," Jing Beiyuan says, seeming to snap himself out of it. "You need to take care of yourself..."

Neither of them dare to mention the cough that will plague him for a lifetime.

[etirabys]

me: after the wedding I want to bleach & dye my hair entirely white. as a treat. It'll ruin my hair but I've always wanted to try it at least once

me: then when I'm sick of it / far along in pregnancy that all normal life tasks including showering suck, I'll cut it really short. I haven't been in butch mode in seven years, I'm looking forward to that part too

81k: until then you'll be in Inuyasha mpreg cosplay

me: [takes immense psychic damage but in a lovestruck way]

[final-girl96]

Broken World: Chapter Four

One Month Later 

It's been a month since everything went to shit. The military came in setting up FEMA shelters and camps for the people. Everyone was told to stay in their homes at first and not to approach anyone who was sick. Then they told them to go to the city; that they could be protected there. It didn't last long, though. At least it didn't here in Atlanta. It only took a few sick people to be overlooked for things to get out of hand. People were dying and coming back to life. But they weren't people anymore. They were flesh hungry monsters. 

The city got overrun, more people died, and the military was overrun, then orders to bomb the city were given. I was hiding in the building the precinct was in. I hadn't left since the day me and Peterson went out to the crime scene of the woman whose husband killed her and ate part of her. I now knew that the man was never alive to begin with when he attacked her. 

Luckily for me, none of the bombs hit too close to the building. A lot of my coworkers left to go home to their families. I stayed; I didn't have anyone I wanted to go home to. Well, there was one person that I thought about when the Lieutenant told us we should be with the ones we loved and to get out of the city while we could. But I haven't talked to that person in a very long time and I doubt they thought about me at all. 

I was sitting at my desk slowly eating a can of peaches when I heard a noise outside the doors in the hall. I had boarded up the big glass windows that looked into the front office. I didn't know if it was a living person or one of the dead. But they were making a lot of fucking noise. I grabbed the baton off my desk. I had ziptied a knife to the end of it then wrapped black duct tape around that to make it more secure. 

I had my gun on my hip like I always did and had a few extra magazines in pouches on my belt. It was only ever used if I absolutely needed it. I learned that loud abounds attract the dead like flies on shit. That's why I needed to take care of who or whatever was outside the office doors. I slowly made my way to where the door was. It had a large piece of board in front of it with a desk pushed against it. 

I left a small space where I could look out into the hall and check to make sure it was clear before I moved the desk to leave if I needed to go look for supplies. That didn't happen very often, though. When the bombs were set off and things settled down, I went out and cleared the whole floor and blocked the doors to the stairwells. I don't know how anyone or anything could get up here, but it wasn't impossible if they really wanted to. 

While I was out clearing this floor, I checked all rooms in the building and grabbed anything useful, brought it back, and then went to some of the building close by. I had an apartment maybe seven blocks away, but I didn't feel like that would be a safe place to hold up at. I did, however, go there and grab clothes and blankets, stuff that was essential. All the food I had in my cabinets, which wasn't much, and I grabbed all the water I had in my fridge. 

I looked out through the gap in the boards and saw a man walking slowly down the hall. He had a red baseball cap on, a backpack hung over his shoulders, and he carried a crowbar. He looked maybe around my age or a few years younger than me. I set the baton down on the desk and moved it just enough that I could push the plywood out of my way and open the door. As soon as I stepped into the hallway, I pulled my gun and pointed it at him. 

"Don't shoot!" He said, putting his hand in the air. "Put the crowbar on the floor and kick it over to me!" I told him. He nodded and slowly bent over to set it on the floor, and then he kicked it across the hall towards me. "I'm sorry. I didn't think anyone would be in this building. The downstairs…" I stopped him, "I know what's downstairs!"

Downstairs was a fucking horror show. Blood coated the floor and walls. Dead bodies lay where they fell a month ago, rotting away, some half eaten. The dead roamed around down there too, the windows were broken out on the ground floor, first, and second floors in the front of the building. I was on the fourth floor, the last floor of the building. "How did you get up here? The stairwells are blocked." 

"I climbed the elevator shaft," he said. I raised an eyebrow, "So you're telling me that you got past all those dead assholes pried the elevator doors open, then climbed up the shaft all by yourself? Or are there others with you?" He shook his head, "I'm alone, I swear! The one elevator was open enough for me to slip through the doors. I closed the doors, which wasn't easy, but I closed them and then climbed up through the hatch. I'm just trying to look for supplies for the group I'm with. We're at the old quarry a few miles outside of the city. Walkers don't come up there." 

"My name is Glenn. What about you?" He asked. I thought about what he said and picked up the crowbar, putting my gun back into its holster. "Detective Stone…sorry, my name is y/n. Come on, Glenn, let's get inside before…what did you call them? Walkers? Come up here and trust me they find ways." I turned and slipped back in through the door. Shortly after Glenn slipped through and helped me move the plywood and desk back into place. 

"So you're a detective?" Glenn asked. I led him into the main area and went straight to the break room. "Was…I was a detective before this whole shit show happened." I grabbed a bottle of water and handed it to him. "What about you? What did you do before all this Mr…" I opened a bottle of water for myself and took a swig of it before putting the cap back on. "Rhee. I was a pizza delivery guy. I know this city like the back of my hand. I think I've delivered here several times before." 

I nodded my head, pulled out a chair, and sat down. "Probably have. We usually ordered out for lunch when we're stuck at our desks all day. We would all pitch in for the order. So, this camp of yours, you said it was at the old quarry? How many of you are there?" I asked. He walked to the door and looked out into the office area. "It's just me here. Has been since before they bombed the city. I only live about seven blocks away, and I don't have any family…well, I don't have family that would have cared if I was dead or alive." 

Glenn sat down at the table with me, putting his bag on top of the table and looking at me. "There's a group of us. Maybe fifteen… A lot of them met on the highway trying to get into the city. There are kids; four of them. All young, I think the youngest is maybe seven or eight. The other three are eleven or twelve. One of the guys used to be a cop, Shane. He's kind of the leader, I guess. You can come back with me if you want. We could always use more people like you. People who know how to fight. How to lead. How to survive. Plus, survival in numbers and all that." 

I thought about it while he continued to talk about this camp and the people there. He didn't seem like the kind of person to lie. Hell, he looked like the kind of person who couldn't lie without getting all bent out of shape. "Yeah. Okay, I'd like to go back with you. There are a few guns in the weapons locker, along with a few boxes of ammo I can bring along. And I had food and water. Do you have a car?" I asked. He nodded, and we started packing up as much stuff as we could carry.

[notsocheezy]

V-Day - Diminishing Returns

(Or: Two In of Three Ain't Good)

Eight weeks. I'm a stone's throw from eight weeks.

Eight weeks ago, to the day, it was my final night at home before departing. I didn't sleep much - or at least, I don't remember sleeping. I had just prepared a flash drive to leave behind for the (nearly zero) chance that I didn't make it. I wanted at least one thing important to me to escape the prison that was my head, even if it wasn't finished. It was a love song. A bittersweet one which had been kicking around in my brain for the better part of a decade. I felt - accepted, perhaps - that even if it was a remote possibility, this could be the final recording of my voice.

There have been plenty more since then, but in a way, I did die that Monday morning. I wasn't the same after that day, or that week, or that month. I am regrowing the parts that form my capital-S Self.

I had my first gynecologist appointment, kind of, last Thursday. It didn't occur to me until my friend pointed it out, but it was specifically a women's clinic. I'm "included" now. For all the good that'll do me. My UTI was declared cured and I was instructed to start using dilator #3 - undeniably an intimidating proposal.

I went home and tried it the next day. I got it in - kind of. But no more than a third of the way - I hit a wall. Could go no further no matter how hard I tried. By Monday, I was still making no progress, despite being told to get it halfway in by then. I felt like I was just wasting expensive lubricant and hurting myself. When I told my surgical team, they said to stop and come back to it in a week or two.

I also asked, while my legs were up on the table, if I was cleared to masturbate. Mostly only because it was on my list of questions to ask - I had no interest. Everything down there was pain and suffering.

Something changed, though. The lingering UTI symptoms faded. Dilating got easier (with dilator #2, anyway). My pain was under control.

And it had been seven fuckless weeks.

I did as I was told - a finger or two above the labia, rubbing to stimulate the clitoris. It was... Something. But it wasn't what I was looking for. The need was becoming too much to bear. I could think of little else. Everything - everything - became dull and boring, I needed release, I NEEDED RELEASE.

No good. An hour of trying - including an extra dilation session as a cheat - didn't work. But today I was determined, today I pulled out all the stops, I got all my favorite toys and did what used to work in the ol' "basement." With the old equipment, I could have pulled a good shot. Two hours and a cup of lube later, I had a sort of good time, but still. No release. There's no steam in my fucking milk.

I can't help but think of December 2019 - my orchiectomy. By the new year, I already knew I'd made the right choice. I laid in bed, on my side, with my legs together, and I saw my whole world light up. The following months were rough for that world, but I'd never felt so comfortable in my skin.

I haven't had a moment like that yet. I worry I never will. The closest I've gotten was a dilation session or two that felt kind of nice when mixed with the right fantasy. But everything is only ever "kind of" so far. And "kind of" feels like a sick joke after the most painful month of my life.

I got so much out of my orchiectomy. Why doesn't this feel like it was worth it?

[wolfofansbach]

Personal thoughts and meditations upon the occasion of the Riverdale series finale. 

Probably like four people are going to read this but I feel compelled to write it out anyway. This show has genuinely been a massive part of my life. I watched the first episode because some high school friends encouraged me to (IRONICALLY, BRO). I was in high school when I started this show. Those friends of course long ago fell away, unable to continue, unable to wacth anymore, but I have kept the faith. All seven seasons. Every. Single. Episode.

I’m not even entirely sure what captivated me so much about the show. I loved the atmosphere of season 1. I genuinely wanted to find out who killed Jason Blossom. Was genuinely fucked up by episode 1 x 12 and the first season finale.

I have such fond memories of watching the first season. I distinctly remember a road-trip I Tok with my friends the summer of 2017, and joking about  maple syrup drug empires and the “weirdo” line back when that was the wildest scene on the show. Joking about how sick of the song ‘Believer’ by Imagine Dragons (2017) we were. 

And then I decided to get involved in a fandom for the first time in a couple of years, and so I revived my old Tumblr, and I began Posting. And reading posts.  

That was my last summer after high school and I was so nervous about college but this show and this fandom helped me get through it. My freshman year I lived in a dorm, and if you wanted to watch TV you had to go down to this common room, so every Thursday I would go down there like an hour ahead of time and occupy the place to make sure the remote was in my hands by 7 PM. A few times I failed, and I missed an episode because of it. But rarely! 

I remember that slowly dawning feeling as season 2 progressed. Scrolling my Tumblr feed and slowly seeing people come to the realization: “wait…is it just me or does this show actually suck.” Was kind of frustrating at the time, realizing that the writers just like…were bad, but in retrospect? Beautiful. Incredible. Legendary. 

And you could even say that’s where the fun really began. Yes, there’s plenty to hate, but also Riverdale is brilliant. The show of all time. For real. No other show has done it like Riverdale. They just haven't, and they never will. The age of the cable television teen drama is ending, and what a hell of a last hurrah Riverdale has been.

The Red Circle. Jingle Jangle. The Gargoyle King. Edgar Evernever and his fantastic rocket. Bret Weston Wallis and Donna Sweett (genuinely cannot say their names without giggling). Jughead getting hit in the head with a rock and faking his death for like…some reason? I genuinely can’t remember, something to do with the Hardy Brothers idk. Tabitha sprinkling the devil with the tears of the Virgin Mary. The normies can laugh all they want about “epic highs and lows” but do they remember the even funnier lines like “if there’s no wedding, that means the gargoyle king has won” or “word of my exploits serving Nick his comeuppance…” THEY NEVER WILL. ONLY THE TRUE FAITHFUL UNDERSTAND. 

And is silly as it all was, I have genuine affection for these characters. Like Betty, Veronica, Jughead, Archie, Cheryl, Toni, actually mean a lot to me. YES they’re fake but I want the best for them (and for Beronica to be canon but you know we can’t win them all). I’m genuinely grateful that this show has existed and been a part of my life for the past six years. 

Moreover, I credit this show for seriously getting into writing. I’ve actually written almost a million words of Riverdale fanfiction. Much of it will never see the light of day, but it exists. Maybe I even have one or two left in me, I don’t know. At the very least I’d like to finish a few uncompleted fics. But I’ve also branched out. Since I started seriously writing in 2017, I’ve also finished several original manuscripts, and who knows, maybe one day I’ll get one published. Stranger things have happened. 

So, thanks Roberto.

And thanks to all of the very cool people I’ve run into in this fandom. I honestly wish I’d gotten to know most of you better, but them’s the breaks. Hopefully this isn’t weird but I’m going to tag a few people in particular. 

@village-skeptic. I know you’re not in the fandom anymore (lucky you), but thank you for, once upon a time, reading every one of the 200,000+ words of a 17-year-old kid’s turgid, indulgent, Riverdale Spanish Civil War fan fiction. I never, ever would have finished that story without you, and I credit it with giving me the confidence to keep writing, and in fact to write everything I’ve written since then. You’re brilliant and awesome. 

@satelliteinasupernova. Thank you for also reading Interbellum (are we noticing a pattern), and more importantly for all of your wonderful drawings. INCLUDING fanart of some of my fics. You have no idea how happy that Strange Death of Elizabeth Cooper piece made me. You rule. 

@sullypants. You were a perennial presence on my feed. Always wonderful to see. I love your taste in art, and I love those ‘penguin classics’ covers you made for a few of my fics. Thank you also for beta reading a few fics for me back in the glory days. And thank you for chatting with me a couple times over the years, including a few times when I was in quite unhappy places. 

@stillhidden. I’m not sure if we’ve ever actually talked, but you like or reblog everything I post and it makes me feel like I’m not just shouting into the void. Same goes for @frauleinfunf Thank God for dutiful mutuals. 

@sonyascomet. I can’t remember when I started following you but you have a really good sense of humor. And I’ll always remember when you kept posting about “Greg” for Succession and I, not knowing anything about Succession, kept imagining Greg Heffley. 

@stillhidden thank you for your world-weary Riverdale posts. You truly understand fandom like few others.

@halcooper. Your devotion to the neglected parents of Riverdale is truly admirable. Every time I see Lochlyn Munro in some weird low budget horror movie I’ll think of you.

I hope I didn’t forget anyone who would be offended by my forgetting, but I doubt it. 

All this to say this show has been a genuinely huge part of my life for six years. SIX YEARS. I graduated college, my God. I wish I could say I became a millionaire or a successful author in that time, but nah. Maybe one day, but for now I’m just kind of vibing. And unfortunately, I’ll have to vibe without Riverdale from now on. 

But as I sit myself down to watch the very last episode of this show, I remind myself that we’ll always have the memories. And I’ll always be an unapologetic Riverdale enjoyer. As a great man once said, snakes don’t shed their skins so easily.