#a debate and presentation on the same day is crazy work actually

[eliasorchard]

three weeks in and I'm already in need of a year long vacation

[inkedwingss]

Does a writer love to write?

Oh, to be a writer! A poet, an artist. What a blessing — or a curse? I said this before, as a joke, that "writers are cursed to write, no matter what" happens or how long it takes between intervals. Writers will write. They might struggle, mostly inside their own heads, but they will write. And they will feel accomplished for doing that.

During my block time, I used to try and try to write, not because I had to, but because I couldn't help but to keep trying and writing the weirdest words, absolutely nonsense shit — until one day, I went back on track. Not writing was never an option. I tried to give up this, many times when I was at a bad place mentally. I felt that I wasn't a writer because I wasn't writing, but this only led me to this previously shared conclusion I keep as a mantra:

"I do not write because I want to be a writer, I write because I am one."

Some people will lick an artist's shoes and treat them as their saviour. This is the same type of people who might think having a degree makes them automatically smart, that every doctor knows what they are doing, and that artists are somehow a superior class of people. I was talking with my beloved @goodluckclove about it today (the main reason I'm writing this), about how being an Artist, or a Writer, is just another job, like being a Teacher, a Baker, a Parent, a CEO or a Janitor. Some artists will even tell you they had no "talent" at all, they just decided to commit and learn. I can draw and I always tell people that it is pure muscle memory. Just practice. Just commit.

But there is also that sparkle, that inspiration, that epiphany, right? That thing that art causes. What makes some works of art shine and hit you with eternal impact? Just practice? This is a long, deep, crazy, boring, infinite debate, but to me the answer is simple.

It's the soul.

That's why AI will never be able to do it. The soul carries memory, information, patterns, feelings, mysteries, and language (unspoken, holy, different languages, that we don't know much about). Some works are technically fantastic but soulless. Some are full of soul, but lack skill. However, the soul is always a part of it, as it is for a doctor when their soul shakes in grief after putting everything they had in for a 72-hour surgery just to lose their patient. Everything goes through the soul. Have you met a soulless doctor? I have.

What about a teacher helping a student to overcome their difficulties? A mother in a 72-hour labour to deliver her baby, with a father who didn't leave her side? Parents that actually take their time and energy to raise conscious, cared for and loved human beings? When a CEO thinks of what is best for the team, and comes up with a brilliant idea, instead of just caring about money? When a janitor makes a place clean and tidy for others, instead of neglecting it? It is not the job itself that is important, but the motivation, the intention, and the heart behind it. That is what makes it valuable.

Our trades will always affect the ones around us. Human nature is deeply connected to the desire to be useful and serve. Not to be stuck at this point forever, but to me, a big reason for so much pain and depression in the modern world is how self-centred our culture pushes us to be. "All about me"! Too much thinking in your head will make you crazy (I would know). But when we are useful, we find peace and rest from ourselves, we connect, and we are in reality, grounded in the present.

Will you love it every time? Nope. Not naturally. But do we have to hate it?

As an artist, poetess, writer, I can tell you that I didn't always love to do it. Sometimes, it was painful. Sometimes, it brings me physical discomfort or it can be disturbing because of my own limitations and issues — the artist himself is in his work (I will die on this hill, because of the soul). But I don't believe and I won't ever advocate for the tortured artist figure, for the "I hate being a poet", although I can't think I ever got these words from any poet.

"I hate making art!" "I hate my kids!" "I hate to live!"

I think it's time to wake up to the levels of desensitisation we have come to. These contemporary times unfold in absolute glorification of evil as if everything painful and ugly was "more artistic". We don't have to avoid hard themes and make it taboo out of them, but we do need a counterbalance. We also need responsibility and honesty when choosing our themes and our artistic or literary approach. And we do need to stop hating things all the time. We need a mature creative world.

It is easier and faster to break than it is to build. It's easier to hurt than to heal. Look around. We have almost nothing left to "break" at this point. I'm in search of beauty again. Out with lanterns. The beauty in you and in me. Not for the glorification of the artist, or of the art itself, but for the Love that keeps me going, that designed me for a particular job, and that I plan to execute in love.

"Let all you do be done in love", it's written. But because I know Love is not only feeling, even when I don't feel like doing it, I will go back into Love, into humility, and do it to the best of my strength. I will do it so that when I have the opportunity to serve someone by it, they feel love. We put our soul into it, and it's not an aesthetic, not a fancy ethereal trend; there is no need for applause. I will do it like that because in that doing is the reward itself, not in the praise or the prize.

All is vanity. Love is the reward.

[anamericangirl]

So I saw your thing on anarchists the other day and thought "well, the ones I follow don't seem to do that/aren't that bad" but then they got into a fight w/ conservatives over fed gov. having control over school boards vs. local gov. having control (which they see as being the same thing somehow) and all they did was insult everyone trying to reasonably argue and said that conservatives are... Leftist socialists? I'm not even sure what that means. What do you mean by that, tax filer?

but like. baby girl. I'm a conservative and I follow various anarchists because I tend to agree w/ them a lot but then they go and act like this? I Do Not Comprehend. Like does being an anarchist mean you just hate EVERYONE, (my Mum's an anarchist so that checks out actually) or do you just not want rules to apply to you when it's convenient or something.

(To be clear, I'm just kinda thinking outloud in your ask box, I'm not asking you personally to answer for them lol. I'm just so confused and they don't seem up for a rational conversation w/ me but we'll see I guess. Also why do you keep anon on? I appreciate it because I have some anxiety but you get so many insane asks)

I follow a few anarchists because there are actually lots of things we agree on but you're not wrong. If you try to debate them on anarchy or even ask questions, disagree, or present a criticism get ready to be dogpiled with ad hominem attacks and relentlessly name called. There's no room for discussion there, unfortunately, because they can't really defend anarchy. They know State Bad but they can't tell you why anarchy is good and because they can't do it they immediately resort to attack mode.

And one of their biggest problems is if you think any form of government is necessary then they pretend you support any and all forms of government and every single thing a government does, which is an incredibly dumb thing to think but they've convinced themselves that it's true. None of them understand conservatism at all and it's obvious every time they make a cringey post about it but they think they are experts on it lol.

You can't really have a rational discussion with them because just like leftists, they decide what you believe and if you correct them on their ignorant errors they just call you names. And the names don't even make any sense lol. It just makes them feel better about their inability to debate you. It's sad, really.

So yeah they're fine for the most part until you have a criticism of anarchy and then they argue exactly like the pathetic leftists they mock all the time.

And I do get a lot of crazy asks, that's for sure and I've tried dealing with it a couple different ways. I've turned anon off a few times before but people just started making throw away accounts to keep sending insane messages and I didn't want to turn of messaging completely because I like talking to people so I just delete messages and/or block people who get too ridiculous and that seems to be working out ok.

Thanks! :)

[shayshaybiscuit25]

Just want to happily vent a bit. 😅

It’s hilarious, crazy, sad, etc that so many Individuals in this world love to think they know more than they do.

This thought stems from the whole Taylor/Trafis “leaked” document because that’s definitely not a contract. I see various people within the CE fandom debating or discussing if the leak documents are real or not. I’m like who cares, the simple fact Taylor and Travis are OBVIOUS PR, yet people believe them to be real while calling out Chris for his bs of whatever this is is insane to me.

I don’t care if Chris’ mess is real or not, but this is how Hollywood works they make you believe the obvious bs is real and/or question if the orchestrated bs is real or fake.

To see people fuss at Chris or claim know if it’s pr or real yet they fall for Travis and Taylor mess is eye opening to say the least.

No one knows anything …..duh. 😂

But that’s Hollywood, I’m the eyes of many….both could be legit or both could be fake when it’s very apparent that they BOTH are fake……BUT without any substantial evidence……the truth is……we’ll never know, but it makes you stop and wonder how much of what we presently like or think we like regarding celebs is due to us being brainwashed and how much crap from the past that ultimately became pop culture or pivotal moments in our lives were actually fabricated bs. Back in the day it was harder to pull crap like this (still doesn’t mean it wasn’t happening) because the general public knew how to smell obvious bs but bs was still there, the 80s/90s walked so the new gen could run. It’s just so obvious that the people in charge don’t know much of anything to the point they continue the same stupid formulas, yet the general public continues to eat it up (which is why Hollywood continues to do this) and that’s not just entertainment but politics, social media and businesses across the board.

People have gotten dumber, thus fools arguing over click baited things online or people in fandoms arguing over their favs having more money than the other while those online arguing fail to realize the people they are arguing over are RICH while they aren’t.

Fans work for free and make more money for these celebs, that’s how it works. It keeps people talking.

When you sit back and see things for what they are, it’s maddening. 😳😮‍💨

I’d steer clear of any active celeb in this present society, it’s only going to get crazier moving forward.

Thanks for letting me vent. ☺️

It's been a while, so why not.

[twilightthefoxicorn]

Talevember 2024 Day Four: Billy Acachalla

One of the OG RP characters, Billy Acachalla has a whole lot going on. For starters, he’s a medic, and is a generally positive and fun person to be around. Typical normal things, right? But, he’s also part-bird (or maybe not, as canon is weird sometimes). And he has the ability to bring people back from the dead. And he has time traveled at some point in his life (past or present, who knows). And his future self gains the ability to teleport. And he may or may not be working with Darth Calculus. Totally normal things!

You ever think about how weird it must be to know your future self is running around in the same time period as you? Like, how would Billy interact with the Toilet Toucher? Would they get along, or would they be uncomfortable with each other? As far as I remember, we’ve never seen the two interact before (due to having the same player RP both characters), so who knows. I’d like to think that Billy can get along with basically anyone, so I think at least Billy would be chill with the Toilet Toucher. I don’t think they ever really see each other, though, as Billy’s usually in town or at work whenever the Toilet Toucher is causing mess at the Acachalla household.

Speaking of future selves, he’s technically Ghost’s uncle twice-removed due to growing up to be Ernie Ghost. What that means is up to interpretation, but I like to think it means he’s Ghost’s great uncle. Time travel shenanigans make things complicated, but I like to think that it’s actually Billy who has time travelled and not the Toilet Toucher. Or maybe both of them have, cause Ernie Ghost eventually becomes the Toilet Toucher, and we get that info from Ernie? Gotta love time-travel making things confusing xD Anyway, it probably weirds Ghost out knowing Billy’s future self is his uncle. Like, Billy is younger than Ghost, but Ghost is technically Billy’s nephew, so. (Side note: but I do know someone irl who has an uncle 1 year older than they are, so it’s completely possible—just not common.)

I think in his spare time, Billy likes to cook. I don’t know, I just feel like he’d enjoy making food for his family. Is he a good cook? That’s debatable, but he tries his best, okay? His cooking isn’t bad, but I feel like Papa definitely wouldn’t be too thrilled whenever Billy says he’s going to make everyone lasagna for supper. He does probably make really good breakfast casserole, though. He and Gertrude definitely bake together, and their cinnamon rolls are legendary, so at least his cooking isn’t all debatable!

He and Sally probably get into crazy scenarios whenever they’re left unsupervised. Freddy totally hasn’t gotten out of the yard and ran all over the neighborhood while the two tried to chase him down, not at all!/s Whenever family game night involves team games, those two are a force to be reckoned with; Sally’s determination mixed with Billy’s luck has earned them a months-long winning streak, much to the dismay of their family. Oh well, Spencer just needs to get good be more cooperative and maybe others would win for once…

[stay-armycrtz]

Sugar and spice- with everything nice

I am officially back! I've been away for a longg time and am now officially putting my work back out there! I've moved over from my Styles account and am now here- mad crazy for everything Kpop and my boys! 

You'll soon be able to see which fandoms I'm mad about and I will also make a new master list- as soon as I figure out how to work this app again! 

Without further ado! Here's Sugar and spice- with everything nice. Bang Christopher Chan version! 

--------------

Y/N shoves another tray of chocolate chip muffins into her beloved oven, slamming the door closed with a huff once the tray was placed down on the shelf. The noise that squeezes it was past her lips borders on a small growl and her normally well loved kitchen shivers in response to the noise. Y/N moves away from the oven and leans over the kitchen counter, placing her head in her hands and massaging at her temples- the ever present headache she’d had since her and Chan had started arguing had slowly been getting worse. These are not the sounds she usually makes in her kitchen, never banging and huffing around. Y/N’s happy place has always been her kitchen, it’s somewhere she smiles without even realising it, where she sways her hips to the beat of Stray Kids or 3RACHA songs without even realising what she’s doing, all the while food sizzles in pans and delicious smells flood their home.

Today, Y/N is anything but happy. Today, Y/N’s face is pinched up into a permanent scowl rather than the happy/pleased smile she usually wears in her kitchen. No music plays and even if it did Y/N was in absolutely no mood to be dancing around the kitchen. Not a single word had worked it’s way past her lips since Chan has left hours ago.

She’s just wasting time. She knows exactly what she’s doing- there’s papers sitting in her desk in her office. Papers that she really should be grading- her student are eventually going to need them back. But here she stands, glowering at her kitchen instead. Baking. Angrily. Any chance that she may have had at focusing at her work was long gone, and had been- the second that they had started fighting.

“Oh, I could kill him,” Y/N growls into the quiet of the room as she snatches up the mixing bowl she had just finished using, she looks down at the bowl, debating if she could be bothered to clean them again. She shakes her head, deciding to just get another one from the cupboard by the sink. She had several sets for this purpose- well, not this purpose- so that she can keep baking, without needing to constantly clean, for special occasions like Christmas or their birthdays. Chan has always made sure that she had loads of baking equipment to use.

Y/N drags another set of bowls out from the cupboard and places them on the side to start mixing together another batch of cake batter. This time she decides she’s going to use dark chocolate because she knows that Cham prefers milk chocolate. He had always preferred the milk over any other kind of chocolate.

It’s not very often that her and Chan fight, it’s not. But when they do… they can be ridiculous, sometimes their fights only last a few house, sometimes days. This time it’s the latter kind of fight. Y/N’s not even sure where Chan is right now, she thinks he’s probably at the gym, more than likely he’s at the studio. Those are the places that he usually goes when he storms off, it’s Chans own way of clearing his head- just like the kitchen usually is for Y/N.

When Y/N’s phone vibrates on the kitchen counter, she snatches it up- uncaring of the flour that she’s getting all over the device, only to realise that the notification is another email from one of her students asking about one of the assignments. Not a single message from Chan, he’s being stubborn now, not even texting her to let her know where he is and when exactly he plans on showing his face and actually coming home. To be fair, Y/N’s being exactly the same, she hasn’t messaged Chan all day either. And she certainly isn’t going to be the first one to cave and give in, she’s not going to be the first one to message him. She throws her phone back onto the counter and moves back to the cake batter, she picks the bowl up and starts spooning the batter into cake cases, waiting to be able to put them into the oven.

Y/N decides that since she’s done everything else from scratch she might as well make the frosting for the cakes from scratch as well, it’ll take longer- not that the frosting will take long to make, it’s just a little extra time she doesn’t have to think the argument she’s having with Chan. The fact that the frosting only takes an extra 10 minutes to make frustrates her to no end, and she slams the spatula that she had been using down on the counter. It’s really not fair, the spatula and her poor kitchen hadn’t done anything wrong and here she was, taking her frustrations out on her kitchen.

She’s in the middle of frosting the first batch of cakes when she hears the front door open. Y/N actually feels how her spine stiffens and she turns her body just enough that she can’t see him coming down the hallway. She can tell that it’s Chan regardless on if she can see him or not, the sound of his front door keys hitting the glass bowl to the side of the door and the sound of him slipping of his shoes- them being left to lay in a semi neat pile just inside as familiar as her own breath.

Y/N glances up, listening out over her shoulder for Chan in the hallway, she can hear him coming, he’s walking slower than he normally would, and he doesn’t even stop or say anything when he enters the kitchen. Anger wells up in Y/N chest, the silent treatment that they had with each other had finally reached its limit, for her anyways.

“Are you kidding me?” Y/N shouts as she spins around to look at Chan, her jaw set tight as she clenches her teeth, her small fists clenched down at her sides. “Not a single word?”

Chan, earphone in his ears, just stands there for a few seconds, staring at her. Just like Y/N thought he’d been at the gym, his gym bag sat near his feet, a small towel rapped around his neck, hair damp- Y/N’s going to assume his showered. Of course, he looks amazing, standing there all sexy, muscles bulging out of his gym shirt, hair ruffled. God damn Bang Christopher Chan for being so sexy when all Y/N wanted to do was be mad at him.

Before Chan even takes his earphones out of his ears, he shakes his head, “You didn’t say anything to me either Y/N,” he growls in response to her comment,

“And how exactly would you know,” she counters, he’s not wrong. She didn’t. “Maybe I did, how would you know when you had your earphones in!”

Chan blinks at her, shaking his head again, “You didn’t though, and I was only listening to some music,”

“That’s…” she huffs again, “That’s not the point and you know it!” She clenches her teeth again, fists clenching even tighter down by her legs, “And where have you been?” She questions back. Chan looks down at his gym clothes and then back at Y/N, as though the answer should’ve been obvious enough that she shouldn’t have needed to ask.

“The gym,” he grunts back, “I’m going to get changed,”

“And I suppose it would’ve killed you to pick up the phone and at least text me, or call?” She shouts at him before he can even move.

“It’s not like you called or texted me either is it Y/N!” Chan shouts right back,” You didn’t seem that interested in knowing where I was either,”

Chan’s right. Y/N knows that he’s right. He’s not right about Y/N not wanting to know where he was, she had wanted to at least know that. Y/N was very interested in knowing where he’d been the last couple of hours, she was just being stubborn- not wanting to cave and text him first. It was silly, she knows that. It was silly and immature, but Y/N’s sure as hell not going to admit that.

Y/N doesn’t know when she does it, hasn’t got a single clue why she picks one up but her hand reaches for a frosted cupcake and then all of a sudden she’s shoving it into Chan’s face. Chan gasps as the cupcake makes contact with his face, the cupcake crumbles to pieces and falls to his feet on the floor. Crumbs fall down onto the front of his t-shirt, the salted caramel frosting that Y/N had decided on smeared across his cheek down to his chin.

With the remains of a cupcake falling down his shirt, Chan just stands there, his mind not quite grasping what Y/N had just done. He’s half confused, not sure on what’s just happened and how the hell he’s meant to respond. Chan reaches up to wipe the frosting off his face but his hand never touches his skin to get rip of the sticky mess.

Y/N has absolutely no idea what in the hell made her decide to do that, she can’t take it back now, she’s not even sure if she would take it back. Chan’s reaction-or lack there of- is so funny that Y/N doubles over, laughing. She can’t help it, she definitely shouldn’t be laughing. It was extremely immature or her but she couldn’t help herself, and Chan didn’t look like he was finding the funny side of the whole situation.

“I’m…I’m so-“ Y/N stutters out, she can’t decide if she should wrap her arms around herself or cover her mouth to stop the flow of giggles from coming out. “I’m sorry, Chan! I don’t know what… I’m so sorry!”

Licking at his lips, Chan can taste some of the caramel frosting that she had decided to use, he nods his head slowing making his way towards her, his slow approach makes Y/N back up further into the kitchen, she’s really not sure what Chan’s response is going to be.

“Chan, no I…” Y/N doesn’t even know how she can explain what she just did, let alone try and justify it, if also doesn’t help matters that she’s still laughing. “It was funny! A little. You would’ve done the same thing!”

It takes Y/N’s back hitting the counter top on the other side of the kitchen for her to realise that Chan had backed her that far into the kitchen. Chan nods his head again, a little nod and a sarcastic little smirk works it’s way onto his face. Chan reaches behind Y/N, and before she can even realises what’s happening, a full measuring cup of flour is being poured over he head, falling into her hair and down onto her shoulder.

“OH!” She shrikes,

Chan steps back and crosses his arms, smirk still ever present on his beautiful face, “See? I can be funny too.”

Now as well as cupcake crumbs being all over the floor of her kitchen there was a whole measuring cup of flour, and now instead of what was genuine laughter coming from her mouth only moments before, Chans laughter was anything but.

For the exact same reason that Chan didn’t find it funny, Y/N doesn’t either. She can’t even remember why she found it so funny in the first place. And now, instead of just being angry at Chan, Y/N was seething. And instead of going about the argument in a mature adult way, she looks along her counter top for something that she can throw back at Chan. There’s still some left over cake batter in one of the mixing bowls on the counter top, just sitting there, just waiting for her to pick it up. Right there. Right where she was standing. Y/N scoops up a handful of batter and tries to fling it at Chan, only to have her hand caught mid-air, most of the cake batter ends up on the floor- joining the cake crumbs and flour- Chan does however, need to quickly jerk his head to the side to miss getting what’s left of the batter in his face. He gets some, but instead of getting it all, he only gets a small splatter of batter across his cheek, joining the already smeared frosting.

“What the hell has gotten into you today!” Chan asks, shaking his head as if that would remove some of the batter from his cheeks.

“You!” Y/N exclaims, pulling at her hand to try and get out of Chans hold, “You’ve gotten into me!”

“Yeah,” Chan huffs as he drops Y/N wrist and steps back away from her, “You wish,”

A gasp works it’s way up Y/N throat, squeezing past her lips, she’s not sure if it’s because of what Chan said, the way he said it, or if it’s even the way he let go of her hand and backed up. She all of a sudden doesn’t want what’s happening to carry on, she wants Chan to hold her. Not even 2 seconds ago she was trying her hardest to get out of his grip, but now, she’d give anything to be back in his arms. To hell with this argument, she doesn’t care who’s right or wrong, Y/N just wants this to be over.

Chan’s whole attitude has shifted too, it’s subtle- but it’s there. His eyes has softened and his lips are now slightly turned down into a frown instead of pressed together in a hard line. His entire posture, instead of trying to get away from Y/N, seems just about ready to comfort her, or seek some form of comfort from her.

They both stand there, staring at each other- Chan’s face covered in frosting and cake batter, and Y/N covered in flour, cake batter dripping from her hand. All of a sudden Y/N’s throwing her self into Chan’s arms- or Chan’s lunging at her- either way, there both a complete and utter mess, and all over each other.

Messy hands and all, Y/N gets a tight grip on Chan’s hair and pulls him closer to her, her legs moving up to wrap around his, Chans hands fitting snugly around her ass. It doesn’t even matter that their making each other even messier, the combination of cake batter, flour and frosting getting everywhere. Y/N would spend everyday like this, if she could.

“Oh my god,” Y/N groans against Chans lips, already breathless, “you taste amazing, Chan,”

“Mmh,” Chan’s hands grip Y/N’s ass even tighter, lifting her up a little higher so her legs can wrap around his waist completely, “cause’ your baking is amazing,”

Y/N huffs a small laugh into their next kiss, “Not what I meant,”

Chan laughs back, “I know, still the truth though,”

Y/N no longer in the mood for their arguing, shrugs her shoulders, allowing Chan to move backwards in the kitchen and drop her onto the counter. She complains at this, all of her measuring cups, bowls and bags of different ingredients go crashing to the floor.

“My cakes!” She shouts, “watch my cakes,”

Chan nods his head, even as he begins to draw Y/N top up and off her body, only stopping to answer her when the offending piece of clothing is up and off her body, dropped onto the floor.

“I can see your cakes,” he growls back at her, voice heated. “Now stay still,”

A small whimper falls from her lips, goosebumps rise all over her skin, even with the whole house being nice and toasty with all of the baking that she had been doing all day. Y/N can’t help it, not with way that Chan’s talking to her. Chan drags his fingers down her throat and front, his fingers grazing over her nipples through the lace of her bra and she arches into his touch, her whole body coming alive.

Chan leans down, licking at the skin above the top of her bra, Y/N can feel how wet she’s becoming. Her whole core tingling, wanting Chan to touch her. Needing Chan to touch her. Chan reaches up behind Y/N and unclasps her bra, it falls lose around her tits and Chan drags it down completely, it swiftly joining her top on the floor. Chan starts mouthing at her chest, the skin rolled between his lips, his teeth lightly grazing over her nipple, just enough for her to arch her whole body into his touch, her core clenching and flooding with wetness.

Y/N reaches out and grips Chan’s chin, pulling him up and slamming her lips to his, a resounding moan works it’s way past Chan’s lips as Y/N works her way down his neck, mouthing and nipping at the skin she can reach from her position on the counter. There’s already pretty red marks blooming underneath the skin that she’s nibbling on. Chan let’s out a small whimper, Y/N pulling him closer so she can grind down on his leg, trying her absolute hardest to get some form of friction against her core.

“Fuck,” Chan groans into her ear, “gonna fuck you right here... right in your kitchen,”

Of course he is. And of course Y/N wants him too, wants him to take her where she sits. And she sure as hell isn’t going to say anything to stop Chan’s train of thought or argue with him.

There close enough now that when Y/N slips her hand down Chan’s front her hand automatically searches for his cock so she can wrap her hand around his head. She finds him quick enough, hand gripping him as he begins sucking his own marks into the skin of her neck. Chan had always loved marking her up, loved seeing the small round marks all over her skin.

Y/N’s fingers work over Chan’s head, his eyes widening, mouth going slack, his groans and whimpers muffled into the skin of her neck. Y/N grins at his response a small huff of a laugh working its way out of her mouth. Chan’s own lips curl up into his own smirk when he looks up at her.

“You think your funny, don’t you?” He grins at her, Y/N shrugs her shoulders in response, “I think you’re a brat,”

Chan reaches up and tugs at the hair at the base of her neck, pulling her head so that she’s looking up at him. Chan bends down and starts sucking on her neck again, nibbling at the skin. No doubt leaving even more marks that Y/N will most likely flush over when she looks at herself in the mirror later.

“Chan… daddy,” Y/N groans, it sounds more like a whine, both to her ears and Chan’s, “I…”

“You what, Y/N?”

There is not a single word or response that Y/N can think of that is an appropriate answer to what Chan is asking. She does however know that she can do more for Chan than just sitting in the kitchen counter looking pretty, kissing at his neck, but as soon as she tries to slide of the counter top to get down on her knees in front of him, Chan grips at her hips to keep her positioned on the counter.

“Where do you think your going?” Chan asks as soon as she tries to move herself of the counter top, “I thought I told you to stay still?”

Without even waiting to hear what she has to say in response, Chan’s yanking at her leggings, pulling them down her legs with enough strength that Y/N has to lean back and grip the edge of the counter so that she doesn’t fall off. Once the legging were down her legs they also get thrown into the collected pile of her clothes on the floor. Chan bends down and bites up her thighs, being less than gentle about the marks he was probably leaving. Chan reaches the apex of her thigh and noses at her through her panties, breathing in deeply, he groans deep in his chest at her scent.

“You smell so good baby,” Chan groans into her skin, he pulls her panties to spine side and runs his tongue up her centre to her clit, Y/N whines, her head falling back, hitting the cupboard behind her head. Chan’s still bent down, head buried in her core, tongue still running up and down, trying to taste as much of her as he can. Chan lifts his head, still tonguing at her and smirks at how wrecked she looks. Huffing out a laugh at how quickly he was able to bring her to the edge in such a short amount of time. Y/N grins back at him, her hand training down and gripping in his hair, pulling him up her body and slamming her lips against his, letting her tongue explore his mouth. Tasting herself in Chan’s mouth she slides her way down the counter, her body grinding against Chan’s the whole way down so that she’s standing next to Chan.

The second Y/N’s feet touch the floor, the second before she can sink down onto the knees in front of him and get Chan’s delicious cock into her watering mouth, Chan’s turning her around and shoving her over the counter she was just sitting on. Bending her over so her ass is sticking out, he lands a quick swat to her left cheek.

“Don’t even think about moving pet,” Chan growls out as he bends down to bite at the skin on the base of her neck, Y/N groans, her pussy flooding with so much wetness she’s pretty sure she can feel it leaking down her thighs.

“Don’t wanna,” Y/N whines back at Chan, attempting to stand back up, she doesn’t get very far before Chan is shoving her back down- holding her there this time- and landing two more smacks to her ass, he growls, really not in the mood for her to be even a little disobedient right now.

“Stay fuckin’ still. I mean it Y/N,”

There’s already bring red hand marks blossoming across the cheek where Chan had decided to spank her, he doesn’t mind – neither does she- clearly loving the expense of red marks that he’s leaving against her beautifully pale skin. Y/N whimpers, legs shaking as Chan slowly drags his hands over the marks,

“See baby, all you had to do was listen,” he coos, she knows by the tone of his voice his not the least bit sorry about the marks on her skin, “just listen, and then daddy wouldn’t have had to spank you,”

She knows he’s right. He’d probably been right all along, this however, is the only situation that she would willingly agree with him,

“Know daddy, didn’t wanna though,” she murmurs back to him.

“I’m fully aware of that fact let,” Chan says into her skin, his hand gently running over her soft ass, “are you going to listen now?” He question, his grip slacking that was still holding her down.

“Yes. Please,” she whines back, pushing her ass out into his hand, Chan lowers his hand, just enough that his fingers are running over her sopping core, she whines again, pushing harder so that his fingers push into her.

“Oh god,” Y/N whines again when Chan moves his down to push against her opening, “Chan…”

Chan responds by shoving his fingers into her, pulling yet another wine out of her mouth, this only makes Chan shove his fingers in harder, faster. Once again bringing her close to the edge she was tethering on earlier.

Chan keeps it up, shoving his fingers in and out of her, working his way up to two before she even realises what his doing. Y/N whines and groans, trying her hardest not to buck down against his hand- which is really difficult considering the fact that every few thrusts of Chans fingers, he drags the across the spot inside her that makes her toes curl and almost fall over the edge she so desperately wants to.

“Fuck! Fuck,” she almost screams, “right there! Please daddy! Right there,” Y/N turns her head to the left, Chan see this and gives her exactly what she wants, shoving his tongue into her mouth and kissing her so hard that she doesn’t even realise that his fingers have slipped out of her and he’s working in shoving his cock inside her.

She screams into the kiss, eyes snapping open as she’s stretched around his huge cock. Chan keeps her hips still, still kissing her lips as he begins to thrust away at her core, pulling almost the whole way out before he’s shoving his cock back inside, all the way down to the base, his hips pressed up against her red ass. She whines, mouth falling open as tears worm their way past her eyes falling down her cheeks she has never felt this good.

“Good pet,” Chan groans in her ear, hand moving up to grip at her throat, he squeezes slightly. Not enough to cut of her air, just enough that she can feel his hand. Just enough that she wants.

“Holy fuck,” she whimpers back, “god yes, daddy.”

Chan snaps his hips faster, he can feel how wet she is. Can feel it practically dripping down her thighs and onto the floor. This makes Chan groan, makes him realise that his release is some much closer than he thought.

“Come on baby, come for daddy,” he reaches down, his fingers rubbing at her clit as he still relentlessly pounds away at her core, chasing his own release so they can come together.

Y/N comes, her whole world shattering behind her eyes as she creams on Chans cock, his following her over, shoving his cock so deep and hard inside her it lifts her off her toes. He comes so much it overflows, his mess joining hers on her thighs and the mess on the floor.

——

They end up on the floor, both curled around each other, sitting amongst the mess of cake batter, flour, crumbs and all of Y/N’s baking equipment. All of which is waiting to be picked up, dusted off and out back into its rightful place in her now once again happy kitchen.

“Didn’t hurt you did I?” Chan whispers into her ear after a few minutes of them lying together, basking in their glow together. He’d taken his shirt of- god knows when- considering it was covered in a multitude of different things, and Y/N runs her hands down his stomach.

“No,” Y/N grins back up at him.

“Good, Y/N… I… I’m so sorry, I should-“

“No Chan! Please, it was my fault,” Y/N interrupts his talking, “it really was my fault,”

She stops talking, their quite with each other, calm. And for a few moments they just lay there, wrapped around each other. Y/N snuggles down closer into Chans chest, and they sit and do absolutely noting. She hopes their done fighting now, she definitely is.

“Hey Y/N,”

Y/N turns her head, looking Chan in the eyes, nodding her head and waiting for him to ask his question.

“Do you?… do you remember why we were fighting?” He asks, face scrunched up into beautiful confusion.

Y/N pulls the exact same face, racking her brain to see if she can remember what had been the cause of all of this, “No. No I don’t.” She states, almost as though it’s a question.

“Yeah,” Chan murmurs, his eyes widening slightly, a small smile working its way onto his face, “me neither,”

They sit there, looking at each other. Matching looks on both their faces, and then suddenly their laughing. Grasping at each other as giggles work past their lips. Eventually they both decide they should get up and get themselves and her poor kitchen clean. Y/N turns off the oven, the cakes that she had been cooking were most definitely ruined by now- she’ll make new ones anyways, this time with milk chocolate instead of dark just to make sure that Chan eats them. They both walk naked towards the stairs, Chan insisting that they get themselves clean and dry before they attempt to clean her ruined kitchen.

“Hey Chan?” Y/N murmurs, being up to kiss the corner of his mouth, Cham hums out his response. “We should solve all of our problems like this from now on,” he laughs head thrown back slightly, eyes creasing shut. He smacks her ass and she squeals in answer, her ass still sore from the slight spanking that she had gotten earlier. Y/N speeds up a little, almost running up the stairs to the bathroom, and into the shower, hers and Chans laughter fill the now happy house, the argument they had long forgotten.

-----------------

AHHHH!!!! 

She’s back!!! 

Let me know what you think! Missed you!

Dari! 

[starrycassi]

Wrong time, rigth place.

Damian Wayne wants to eradicate the new killer in Gotham. Jonathan needs to get his brother back. They become unlikely allies — vampire, and vampire hunter.

Previous

A body per day.

Damian feels his own blood rush with anger and frustration at the situation. Gordon, who is one of the few useful cops around, is bed bound from a bullet wound for a couple of more weeks, and he is running out of ideas. He has a single thought to work with, and, to be completely honest, he is a little weary of that possibility. He needs to evaluate all the other routes, first.

That’s why, two weeks after the first death and with more than a dozen of corpses already, he sees no other options but to call a meeting with all the Bat-trained people. Grayson, the only other useful cop he knows, is thrilled to come back to Gotham, even under such circumstances. Drake is already in on the deal, the same as Thomas and Cain, so they are the ones in charge of presenting and explaining the evidence to everyone else.

The Cave —he refuses to call it batcave anymore, because it is stupid and childish— is cold, per usual, but the noise that all of them together did made it feel asphyxiating. Damian hates crowds — too much people, too many distractions, but it is a necessary evil to go through if he wants this to be over as soon as possible. And he wants that, so, he decides to suck it up.

They show the pictures, read the documents and share the data, doing their best to be brief. When they finish, Damian is even more convinced of his own theory, and his hands feel strangely sweaty, his heart too fast. He is not afraid, no; Robin should never be afraid, so he is not. He is not.

“I heard some noise about this” muses Brown, looking at the ceiling. She frowns, “some people believe it’s a cult, you know? Sounds stupid, but, I expect anything from this goddamned city” Drake’s face morphs in a scowl of anger, at that, and Stephanie adds, “But I bet it’s not that, you know? Probably not.”

“I think it’s some sort of crazy bastard with nothing better to do. I say we kill ‘em” adds Todd, smiling a bit too much.

“We can’t just kill every crazy bastard we come across. Gotham would end up empty”

“Plus, we can’t kill someone that we don’t know, idiot”

They start to bicker and the conversation turns into a debate about the no-killing rule and the morals of it, and it is so fucking noisy. Damian hates crowds, but noisy crowds are even worse. He looks at Drake and they both groan when Grayson starts, yet again, to cite the Geneva Convention at Red Hood.

Cass clears her throat. Silence reigns again, all of their heads turning to look at her. Damian’s thankful.

“I think” she says, voice raspy and low from being unused, “vampires”

Damian is not afraid. He shudders, because it is cold, and his throat closes, because he is thirsty, but he is not afraid. That would be stupid.

But vampires are the only thing that make sense. The dry bodies, the punctures, the mess-free places, the quickness of the killer, the constancy of the killings. A vampire is loose in Gotham, probably, and he is not afraid.

“I’ve never actually seen a vampire” Stephanie remarks, but she is clearly evaluating the idea, biting her lip over and over again.

“That one full on died, like, two times” Duke points out, signaling at Todd with his finger, who nods, smirking “If working with Bat’s shown me one thing, it is that everything is possible here. Unfortunately”

“Hopefully not a real vampire” Oracle shrugs, finger tapping on the metal of her wheelchair, making an insufferable noise, “Just an idiot who wants to be known as one”

Grayson’s skin goes green. He simply closes his eyes, letting out a tired breath, remaining silent. He looks nauseous, at the verge of tears and about to break on in a fit of laughter, all at the same time.

Damian is absolutely not afraid. Why would he be? Ra’s worked with vampires, and he’d taken a couple of them down in practice, before. He has no reason to be afraid, so he isn’t.

But his neck feels too bare, all of a sudden, even if vampires don’t really attack there. They prefer places with more veins than arteries, like the chest, hands and arms, where most of the victims had been attacked.

“One of the first victims was found with a puncture directly in the Vena Caba" Drake holds one of the unfinished autopsy records that he managed to get in a really and fully legal way, "I guess vampires would make sense"

Damian’s left-hand flies to his right first rib, slowly traveling down to the third one, just to check, remembering the many anatomy classes they gave him in the League. He makes sure to apply pressure, to actually feel his skin under the fabric. He is not afraid.

Then Drake’s phone rings.

.

Damian likes Bernard. Not romantically, clearly, but he enjoys the blonde’s company enough to seek him out from time to time. So he hates the ride to the hospital; he hates the way Drake trembles next to him while Grayson drives, he hates the lump in his throat, he hates that Grayson has to ignore the semaphores, he hates the silence in the car, he hates the receptionist, he hates that they have to bribe her to get in because Drake being the patient’s fiancé apparently is not enough information, he hates the smell of bleach and the stairs. He hates that he’s so fucking useless.

Bernard is alive, thankfully. Barely alive, but alive. Drake’s a crying mess, and Damian hates to see him be so stupidly sentimental. He hates the way Tim mumbles about a restaurant, he hates that Bernard’s parents aren’t here because, fuck it, Bernard deserves someone else aside them to be here.

He hates being afraid. Not only that, but he hates that he can’t lie to himself anymore.

Truth is, he’s not afraid. He’s fucking horrified.

Ra’s loved vampires, and he tried to share that love with his grandson. He loved to use them to torture deserters, and he loved to hear the way people screamed for help while their flesh was perforated over, and over, and over again. And he loved to make his grandson watch.

Damian knows about Grayson’s story with vampires. He knows all about how they work. He worked with them, and he still has nightmares where the faces of the tortured morph into his own.

He hates vampires.

They are implacable creatures, horrible killers, mindless torturers that enjoy making people suffer, heartless machines that obey to their instincts. They are bestial hunters, animalistic clod-blooded, inhuman, merciless beings. They are everything he used to be. They are everything he is running away from.

.

Jon trips over his own feet, falling face flat on the earth

He moans in pain, hungry. He hasn’t fed in hours, days, weeks. Two weeks or so, actually. He’s barely holding on, really, and if it wasn't because Gotham seems to be a declared enemy of sunny days, he would’ve probably just burn to death already.

He turns around, facing the sky, refusing to get up. He’s too worn out to muster enough energy to try to keep moving. He takes a deep breath.

“HOW THE FUCK ARE YOU SO FAST?” his scream is full of annoyance and bitterness, because, here he is, trying to be a good vampire and help his brother, but, no. Life hates him. The world hates him. God, if he exists, probably hates him, too.

He feels like crying. Konner’s been making a mess all over Gotham, leaving the murder scenes too fast to try and catch up to him. He jumps from one end of the city to another with no order, with no pattern to try to track him down. The floor under him is cold, and so is his skin, and he misses his mum

An old lady passes by and throws him a couple of coins, hurrying out to get away from him and praying. His skin simmers slightly at that, and he ignores it.

He should go home. He should leave this stupid city and go back to the underworld of Metropolis, where everyone loves him and his family, where being a Kent is the mightiest form of fame, where Ma and Pa will serve him freshly gotten blood in a bowl with a funny straw, where his mom will soothe him and hug him, where his dad will be happy to have him back.

The Kents adopted his dad, thinking he was a vampire, too. He turned out to be an alien, so they turned him into the first ever alien-vampire, and his name quickly made the rounds around the underworld. He was the perfect vampire, really, for being mostly sun-resistant. Then, he married Lois Lane and turned her into a vampire, and she got pregnant and Jon was born. Their life —if you ignored the whole “trapped in a haunted dimension” thing that happened to Jon— would be perfect, really. Perfect, until Konner appeared.

Konner was born under horrifying circumstances. Luthor, another vampire, tried to clone his dad’s DNA to get the same sun-resistance, and he succeeded. Konner was a pain in the ass ever since the first day, and no one seemed to actually care for him.

No one but Jon.

Sure, his brother was an idiot, but that was Luthor’s DNA fault, not his. He helped Jon to tie his hoes, and he was there to teach him how to hunt without making a mess. He taught him all the cool tricks that his dad didn’t.

Konner was the first person he ever came out to, and he was there to tell him how to prepare amazing dates, and then he was there to get him drunk when Jay and him broke up. He was there for Jon, and no one was there for him, so Jon took it upon himself to invite him to all the family dinners, even if his parents never really approved of that; he did everything he could to make sure Konner knew that someone loved him.

And then Konner turned around and ran away.

He didn’t know why. He didn’t even know what he was supposed to do when he found him, but he knew that no one else would go searching for Konner; and he knew that Konner would, even if reluctantly, look around for him if he ran away.

So, here he was, leaving everything behind in a hurry to find his older brother. His dad disapproved, of course, but whatever, he didn’t get to have a teenage rebellion so he was doing this instead.

It was dark when he got up from the floor. Almost night, already.

He was hungry.

Vampires didn’t only hunt in the night because it was dark, no. People’s blood pressure got lower at those hours, and feeding was easier because the blood flow was easier to control. Konner should be getting his food now, and if he wanted to catch him, that was his best shot.

He couldn’t just float around here, so he was forced to walk around the city aimlessly. He hung around college campuses and gyms, where tall, healthy, young people were easier to find. Konner loved to feed from people with tattoos —said the blood tasted stronger, spicier— but, as long as he’d heard, just some victims had them, probably to make the cops have fewer data to work with.

If Konner had actually gone rogue, then he was one of the most careful rogues ever.

It was about midnight when Jon heard it. Vampires didn’t have a heartbeat, or he’d found Kon years ago, so he’d been focused on trying to find his brother’s voice, and he was finally successful.

Good thing: he heard Konner’s voice. Bad thing: Gotham was as noisy in the night as it was during the day.

He ran, and ran, and ran. But he was hungry, and he was tired, and things were swimming around in his head. He went left and right, and then he was in an alley. He couldn’t fly. He went, and went, and he couldn’t focus. He looked around, and he was in a million different places. The houses were moving, the buildings were walking away, and he was so, so hungry.

He was so hungry that he didn’t notice, at first.

He fell down, flat on his ass. He was in another dark alley, a dead end. He was tired. Then, a blond man was on his face, asking about his house and his family, asking if he needed help.

“Yes” he mumbled, the man’s heartbeat thumping in his ears, “Help me, please”

And he sank his teeth on the skin in front of him.

So, now, he is standing in front of an almost dead boy, frightened.

His dad and mom refused to kill humans. They got their blood from more ethical sources. They paid for it. Konner only got criminals and horrible people in general. He made them pay for their crimes. This is just some poor fucker who wanted to be helpful.

Oh, my Dracula. Did he kill the poor idiot? Oh, no, no, please, no. He really, really wants to cry now. Fuck. The poor guy just wanted to help. Fuck.

His hands shake. His eyes burn. He’s still hungry, the man is barely alive or freshly dead, because he’s still warm. He manages to get out the idiot’s phone and activate the emergency mode.

Then, he turns around, panicking, and stomps on the cellphone until it looks like mushed potatoes, terrorized. He starts running, going too fast for a human, but his brain isn’t working properly right now.

When he stops, he’s completely lost. He breaks down, crying, because nothing makes sense. He wants to go home. Suddenly, he’s back on that place, and no one can help him, and then he’s in Gotham, and everything burns, and he’s not here, and no one is here.

He’s alone, again. His sobs turn into screams. He begs for help, he begs, and no one is coming. No one can hear him. Can his dad hear him? Why isn’t his dad here? He wants his dad, and he wants his mom, and he wants to go home.

He cries, and cries, and cries some more. Weeping and mumbling to himself, until he falls asleep.

He sees a pair of black boots before he does.

.

When Jon wakes up, Konner is there.

If he had a heart, it would go crazy right now. He wants to say something, but a straw is forced onto his lips.

“Drink” Konner hurries, and he obeys. Blood. Fresh, warm, tasty.

There’s a girl next to them. She has both arms tattooed, and pink, bright hair. She’s laid on the floor, face down, and she looks like a dried up raisin. He can’t hear a heartbeat. He’s so hungry that he closes his eyes, and keeps drinking.

Konner was right. The blood is heavier, filled with a different flavor. He doesn’t like it a lot, but, it’s better than starving.

“You’re fucking dying, dude” His brother chuckles, voiced filled with amusement, one hand holding the bowl and the other on Jon’s jaw. “How did Clark allow this?”

His voice is full of anger, now. Jon wants to cry again, but his head already hurts too much. He tries to speak, but Konner makes him go back to drinking, telling him that they’ll talk later. Jon looks around. They are in what seems like a forest, and everything is dirty. He looks at Kon, raising an eyebrow.

“What? You didn’t give me time to pick a better dinning place, man. Heard you crying like a fucking crazy banshee and found you ‘bout to die. This was the quickest way”

There’s so many questions in Jon’s head, so many pleads. Konner looks so, so wrong. His eyes are… He is…

Jon can’t explain it, but something isn’t right. His brother suddenly stands up, eyes wide.

“Look, man, I gotta leave” He looks around, playing with his shirt, “Drink and go, ‘kay? Don’t know where, just- go. Only bad shit happens here, get me?”

He kneels down, kisses the top of Jon’s head, and mutters something against his hair; before Jonathan can recover from that, before he can do anything, before he can manage to ask him to stay, he’s gone.

He tries to follow. His body doesn’t listen.

.

If anyone asked him why, Damian wouldn’t know what to say.

He doesn’t know why, but he ventures into the trees that surround Gotham, abandoning patrol. He walks, with nothing but the weapons he carries on himself, which aren’t few, but they’re less than enough.

Perhaps he just doesn’t know where else to go. Perhaps the only home he’s ever had is nature herself. Perhaps he couldn’t bare to be in the same place as Bruce, not after he kicked him Tim out of the case because now he’s “personally involved”.

But he walks aimlessly, mind anywhere else but here. He wonders if Ra’s behind this. He wonders if this is another way to try to get him back. He hopes not.

A swift breeze rushes next to him.

He gets out his sword, but the movement is gone as soon as it appeared. He should go back, but now, he can hear sobs and whimpers. If he hurries, he might catch the killer. But if this is anything like Bernard’s situation, any seconds he loses are seconds of life and death for the victim.

He runs, and runs, and runs in the direction of the sounds. The branches hit his body, the cold night laughs at his stupidity, the trees try to stop him. He keeps on running, Drake’s cries resonating on his ears.

Then a force hits his body, and he falls down, the air escaping out of his lungs. He reaches for a knife, stabbing the body over his, and the knife just fucking squashes down like a cardboard prop.

Vampires aren’t impenetrable, so at least it’s probably not that.

“WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO MY BROTHER?!” the person screeches, and, how fucking loud can one person scream? Because this man’s lungs must be made out of fucking steel.

“I DON'T EVEN KNOW WHO YOUR BROTHER IS, YOU FUCKING IDIOT” he screams back, pent-up stress getting the best of him, as they roll around in the muddy floor, and the smell of blood fills Damian’s lungs.

“I DON’T BELIEVE YOU, YOU DIRTY BLOOD-POISONER”

They roll around some more, both trying and failing to hurt the other. The stranger man is strong, suer strong, but Damian refuses to die in the middle of nowhere after surviving so many things. They hit a tree, the man’s head crashes against a rock, there is mud all over both. Then, they hit the corpse, and they both freeze. Damian, with a sudden wave of adrenaline. The other, with what seems like disgust.

Damian takes advantage of the split second of doubt, pushing the boy out of his body and getting up, ready to fight for his life. Then, he sees it. The inhumanly white teeth, the too blue eyes that seem to glow under the moon, the blood around the mouth, and he knows it, he knows like he knows that he is too far away from the nearest human to ask for help.

A vampire.

[narcoticwriter]

Genshin Impact & Waffle House

In honor of Waffle House trending yet again on Twitter:

Commentary and Lore Below The Cut:

Employee of the Month:

Candace also doubles as the unofficial manager because no one clowns when Candace is in.

Your ass is getting thrown out if you try it and her reputation is absolutely terrifying, so things are kept in relative peace.

Is really the only thing keeping the place running and the staff there sometimes.

Works The Night Shift, Throws Hands:

All of the people in this category will absolutely be down to clown at some point because it is 2 AM in the morning and they are tired, so trying them while on the night shift is a death sentence.

Diluc and Kaeya would fight each other if they're riled up, but if anyone tries it on their shift, they are getting teamed on by them.

Rosaria doesn't do overtime and that includes the night shift. The last time someone got up to something on her shift, their collarbone was shattered.

Shenhe simply being present is enough for most people to not try anything, but just in case, she can not only deflect furniture but throw knives with terrifying accuracy and put someone on life support. If she wasn't working there, she'd be instigating.

Tartaglia is an instigator but on the side of chaotic neutral. Fights are all well and fun, but if anyone messes with his coworkers on the shift, he's catching fades.

Yelan is mostly there because it's the only time she's awake; her coworkers swear that she gets off on the thrill somehow. Will occasionally participate in a beatdown if there's a need for more numbers.

Works The Day Shift, Can Mostly Throw Hands:

These people aren't weak by any means, but most of the clownery happens at night. They will get to stepping if it comes to that though.

Amber is one of the nicest people there, to be honest. Customers love it when it's her shift. Firm enough to not really have to resort to hands.

Itto is a big guy so people don't usually do anything. He tries to keep the peace while not escalating to violence but if the occasion calls for it though, he has his coworker's back.

Diona is a little girl, but she is a fighter. Putting her in this category because she has the experience and can break the new hires in.

Kazuha is a peaceable guy, really laid back and stuff like that, but some customers are still telling the tale of how he laid a guy out twice his size after he tried to rob the establishment.

Shinobu takes no shit, but I feel as if she'd be too busy at night to take that shift. Will clown a man if they try it.

Jean is great, friendly, and sociable. Treats the customers well and people don't like starting stuff when she's around. She also doubles as a sort of manager for the day shift.

Noelle isn't crazy enough to do the night shift, but everyone has the mind to be respectful of the petite girl who can benchpress ten grown men and rip off the counter with ease.

Xiangling is the cook. Customers go there for her food specifically. Anyone who tries it with her will be tried by the customers on her behalf.

Bystander, Can Throw Hands If Needed:

These individuals are customers, but will absolutely join the fray if they have to or feel the need to do so.

Aloy goes there on occasion and treats the staff with the proper respect. Will call out anyone not doing the same and will come to blows.

I debated putting Eula in the instigator section, but she doesn't instigate, others feel instigated in her presence and that's their problem. She will not tolerate others clowning on staff that actually treat her well and as such will go to the bat for them.

Ganyu doesn't look like it, but if you read some of her voice lines, you will understand how she can get worked up enough to throw hands. She's also a war veteran, so you know she wouldn't hesitate.

Thoma ran the fade for the criminal offense of scamming. Think of what he'd do to someone acting a fool when he's trying to eat his meal in peace.

Tighnari doesn't take shit, and this includes at Waffle House. Might not be able to clown, but he can tank it to shield someone else.

Eats There Regularly, Unbothered:

Albedo does not give a fuck about anything that happens as long as he gets to eat and leave. He's so quiet that people don't even notice he's there until he gets up to leave.

No one is stupid enough to do anything when Beidou is eating her meal. No one dares. The last person who did was put in a full-body cast.

Sleep-Walking Layla would go during the night shift and revel in the atmosphere, which is either giving empty or giving WWE. Layla has no idea why she tastes shitty coffee on her breath the next day.

Before you say Ningguang is too classy for Waffle House, consider that she would pretty much loiter at the place back in the day. She's more than used to the fighting in the background as she eats her grits.

Qiqi wouldn't process the body getting thrown through the window or the people screaming about a heroin addict with a gun in the background as she sips at her cold chocolate milk.

Venti and Zhongli would eat at Waffle House to catch up on old times. The old men watch the fights as free entertainment as they have nothing to do.

Caught In The Crossfire, Innocent:

These people are the victims of this tier list. They asked for nothing but a good meal and they got pain instead. You can feel bad for them.

Bennett is a given. Not only does his food go flying, but he does as well. Occasionally used as a human shield as he weights as much as a sack of potatoes.

Fischl and Razor went to Waffle House with Bennett, but someone grabbed Razor's hashbrowns and used them as a projectile and Fischl got a mug to the face.

Mona would inadvertently get beaten up for being mistaken for someone else or talking some mad shit and getting in the middle of it.

Sayu was thrown as a projectile at someone while she was asleep.

Sucrose was sleep-deprived and as such, did not process the things thrown at her or the chair that landed next to her.

Xinyan and Yun Jin went to crash there after a concert and it was at the wrong time. Xinyan gets some licks in though!

Yoimiya is deft enough to dodge most of the stuff flying everywhere, but she doesn't enjoy the circumstance. So perhaps she's a victim emotionally.

Records the Fights for The Memes™:

The title speaks for itself, but this is for the people that are filming the entire thing for either the laughs or their own entertainment.

Dori is going to upload this to her YouTube channel as a part of a meme compilation or some commentary, all while plugging her sponsors.

Hu Tao is recording this for advertising purposes: "It's better to get a coffin and arrange your funeral now because your life could be served up like this knuckle sandwich!"

Xingqiu is using this not only for the memes, but for inspiration for fight scenes and I say this because I have unironically done this more than once.

Instigator, Unintentional or Otherwise:

Instigators can either be considered people on absolute crack (literally or figuratively), general threats to the public, absolute dicks, or just being themselves.

Chongyun went with Xingqiu and got too fired up and then proceeded to pick a fight with someone, causing a litany of property damage. Xingqiu recorded the entire thing.

Klee casually pulled out a bomb that could level the entire block and started to play with it as a toy. Naturally, everyone in the restaurant and the general vicinity ran for their fucking lives.

Ei and Shenhe could not understand each other as they were talking, so instead of using their words, they used a spatula and a knife respectively. It got so insane that the video of it posted is one of the most regarded in the Waffle House fights genre.

Scaramouche would talk some mad shit and then get pissed when he got called out. So to save face, he swung at someone in the night shift crew. He has not come back since. If he wasn't instigating, he could work there.

Xiao would instigate with another customer in the establishment and it would carry over to the staff having to get involved. It could be argued that the customer was instigating him, but no one knows.

Yae Miko would start talking some mad shit and then somehow worm her way out of it and make herself look innocent. Mostly starts the fights.

Law Enforcement, Called After It's Done:

They are the people that are called as there are fights. Everyone usually scatters afterward, but on the occasion that there are stranglers, they catch them.

Cyno is a given. He will absolutely get involved and break it up if he sees it. He does not care what started it for whatever reason because that's not his job.

Gorou is a bit nicer in this regard and tries to get to the bottom of it, but make no mistake of him being soft because the bark has a bite.

He only comes in when there's some really suspicious activity around the fight at the Waffle House or in the surrounding area. Otherwise frequents Waffle House when Kazuha is on shift.

Keqing is getting really tired of being called up to that place. She's debating transferring somewhere else if only to avoid having to do this every time she's there.

When they say that Sara's there, everyone runs. They don't want to get on her record and they are afraid of her. She's the one that actually tries to get it to stop and the staff really appreciates it.

Yanfei isn't law enforcement per se, but is the legal assistance and mediator of a good chunk of conflicts. She is graciously paid with free food on the house.

Would Not Go At All:

The title says it all.

Aether and Lumine know better than to pick a fight with that place.

Barbara is too innocent, even for the crossfire.

Why would I wish that on Collei?

Faruzan would either Karen out or start getting a body count and I don't know if Waffle House would maintain the peace with her in the building.

The Kamisatos are better than that.

There's no question as to if she would have a body count or not, but Lisa is too tired for that shit.

Nahida prefers IHOP.

Nilou is peaceable and would actually be a good employee there, but she really likes what she has now and doesn't want to deal with that negativity.

Kokomi came up with a battle plan and five different strategies to fight off and take down the Waffle House staff for fun once. Unfortunately, the police were called and she is now under investigation for domestic terrorism. Understandably banned until further notice.

[mylawcitrus]

About Threads

Interesting network.

I just made a wrong move. I thought "well, maybe I could join with my work account and try talking to people like I did on Twitter". I was presented with more and more hatred and mockery towards Musk, to a point where I was like "wait, if they can do this to him, what can they do to me?" and do I lost part of my respect for a few journalists and came to the conclusion that trends are a phenomenon, an illusion, not reality. At the same time, I did read, watch and consume content that was drawing criticism to the platform I once had as my home and all.

I started to share personal information, and maybe the facts that 1) I followed therapists and coaches; 2) I talked about mental health and literally showed my pills, played a role in my decision to delete the account.

There were some good things, but sometimes I looked back and thought "damn, shit's kinda hard lately isn't it?"

And so that makes me think of volume of posting, time on the screen, number of contacts... a lot of stuff. And it kinda, slightly makes me think that the AI stuff could help? But you have to have a mind for that. And I wanted to fight those people because they were banning porn.

And so Tumblr was "pivotal" in the decision to ban porn. But here I am, talking about like, "did you know that Chaturbate has videos tackling social anxiety" and I think it's valid, but I have to kinda reassess my WordPress blog. I usually write more seriously on there, in a traditional format (sometimes, following everything I ever learned from the academia and reading journalism), but if I have to pick a topic and debate it more seriously, I'll have to switch to long format. And I've already decided what issues need to be tackled, but I can't keep going on Substack cause I don't have the money to buy the books I wanna reference. I just kinda suggested an approach for a course in Media, that's pretty much it. The storytelling part was like, totally what made it interesting, but it's also where it's vulnerable.

So I don't know. I need a "filler".

I spent days rolling in bed waiting for a freaking Skype message... it's clear that I can't live like this. So I don't know, for sure something had to change but I'm wondering what kind of new habit can produce new contacts that I can actually trust (Tumblr people are pretty cool and I miss Mastodon a bit), because I don't think Facebook is appropriate for any of the discussions I wanna bring up. If someone in the family reads, they'll either ignore or completely rage over it, and there's nothing more pathetic than my family pissed off, believe me. They don't have legitimate reasons. They make shit up. I'm tired of talking about this without talking about this.

But you know, sometimes my family can be pretty supportive. And the friends I counted on leave me behind and talk behind my back...

So yeah, it's starting to feel like... I replaced Twitter with Tumblr and nobody has the patience. They already didn't, but like...

What a dead end, right? When I think that my brother has no idea I wrote this down I'm like "Jesus... things are not okay in this household" but actual Jesus would say "what's not okay is the things you've said to strangers" and I'm like... not again, man. Not again.

Cause if we don't collectively calm the fuck down, then how are we even gonna have conversations in the future? Remember what was happening? "I know where you live". -- brother... shit was going crazy. And now they wanna present so many ways to monetize video but we can't make friends, just do business. And fuck if we act like we have rights!

I know this was long, but just some stuff that I was thinking about.

[getmemymicroscope]

So I'm watching this movie entirely because the poster looks interesting (and Milind Soman!). And yet, in the first 15 minutes, not only has there been no Milind Soman (turns out he's not the main character), but also:

A man (our hero, apparently) wakes up to his alarm clock (after the Bollywood favorite dream of winning some award given to you by a famous actress, soon after an item song) and immediately exclaims "I"m late". Like, if waking up to your alarm clock is late, you are using this clock incorrectly.

Hrishitaa Bhatt! (She's the actress in the dream, though, so I we may not see her again)

Our hero is upset, with good reason, but also exclaims "I worked hard for 3 months." Like, having been an 'adult' for a bit now, I don't think 3 months of hard work is enough.

The girl who will apparently be our main actress is upset that her boyfriend (our hero) is late to watch her presentation. And this isn't some sort of TED talk - this is her, at a company she works at, trying to sell some unhackable software to interested buyers. I'm pretty sure he wouldn't be able to sit in on this anyways.

It was also around this point that I realized that the Milind Soman movie I wanted to watch was actually 16th December, not this one. But I figure since I've already started it, I might as well continue until it becomes unbearable (I mean, even with all this, it isn't as painful as, say, Heropanti 2).

Though, it tries. She finally wisens up and gets exasperated by his video game playing (instead of, you know, actually getting a job) and is like "you have 2 months to make something of yourself" - it's so bad that even these random kids are like "we can't play all day, we have to sell things and make money for the family" (though, there is a bit of abuse that is sorta glossed over) - and, in response, her parents and Anupam Kher's character (some random rich guy who appears to know him and her) are like "what are you doing?" It's an interesting reverse from typical Bollywood, where parents are like "no, you can't marry this guy, he has no job!" in that they're like "don't break up with him just cuz he's got no job or income or prospects" - and it's frustrating, because she's actually being sensible! (Well, until that completely unnecessary jab about the video game convention thing right when he's trying to come through on her 2 month deadline.)

Once the "twist" takes place (finally, Milind Soman!), things... maybe get better? Maybe. The 'red/yellow' debate between mom and daughter was a good way to introduce a clue, but heavens did they need to keep the audio of that debate going for so long? It became clear immediately that the mom has no idea what color blindness is, but was also annoying. He later, off the top of his head, says that color blindness is rare (one in a million), so they can hack into some database and figure out who one of the "producers" who hired him, but a simple study online would've know it to be closer 1/10,000 (for females) - meaning that it's probably not rare enough that just looking for license applications rejected on those grounds would be a simple search. But then, when has Bollywood ever cared for truth about science/medicine.

He makes up a fake code has part of planning, and that ends up being the exact password for this insane security system guarding some insanely crazy diamonds? Yeah, okay. ... And speaking of coincidences: her friend goes on vacation to disappear for half the movie, then returns and just happens to be almost engaged to one of the culprits. Like every single clue/discovery is pure coincidence (well, 3 of the 4) - the colorblindness thing he sees/overhears, the don's henchmen having the same bracelet, this. The only one that isn't is the one where he finds the picture, reminding him of the house; even that, he had entirely given up and only gone to investigate her apartment on Jiya's suggestion.

The scene where he writes a story for them: he writes it, gives it to them, they read it and all say "I love it," and then, and only then, he's like "I changed the prompt you gave me a little bit." Like, no shit! - they literally just read what you wrote. Why are you telling them this AFTER giving it to them to read?

The director he goes to at one point gives him a DVD of the movie Evolution and asks him to make a Bollywoodized remake of this "blockbuster" movie. That movie wasn't really a blockbuster - and I'm not sure that Bollywoodizing a sci-fi movie with aliens is really a great way to go (yes, I know about Koi Mil Gaya, but I've also seen other Bollywood attempts at sci-fi).

I know it's not the exact same crime, but I don't know if, in in trying to prove your innocence, committing a whole bunch of crimes is the best way to go. Also, in this process of creating havoc on the streets of Mumbai, he, on a bike, is barely able outrun (outride?) Milind Soman on legs. Impressive running, Milind. And the bike riding is made even more ridiculous by the scene where he is hit by a car and slides under a truck like some weird Matrix-style act. Dumb. Also, how did the wannabe writer become so good at action? And at defusing bombs? This is ridiculous.

The entire Don thing, I guess done for comic relief (and indirectly leading to another clue) , is dumb. And we don't really need comic relief at that point in the movie, we just need it to end and give us true relief. Also not giving relief are the songs, which are ... skippable. Sulag Sulag, the second item song, is the best of a poor lot, simply because it's fast-paced enough to be somewhat catchy.

At least Milind's character is smart enough that after the 3rd murder, he's like "maybe (main character) isn't the culprit." We also get the "nonsense" guy from Singham, which is what I will forever know him as/for.

Foreseeable twist/ending, because the role otherwise was pretty minimal. Also, too much interest in what was going on. Glad it wasn't Milind; might've been even better if it was her. But given the lack of other real characters in the movie, it was guessable. (Also, once he starts the timer - the time passes very, very quickly. Like, quicker than a minute is, which is interesting cuz normally in movies, 1 minute takes like 2 hours to pass.) Until time is running out, then it takes him like multiple minutes to slowly type in a code. Like, come on bro, her life (and yours) is on the line!

Milind Soman somehow fights a bunch of people and then appears on top of a boat that is entirely encompassed by water on 3 sides and a dock, which the baddies are walking on, on the 4th. Impressively impossible. Also, he can apparently fly, and jump out of water like a dolphin. And, in the end, an Ajnabee-style death for our baddie.

He enters the code and... instead of defusing, it goes into a Windows-like "processing" mode. Imagine getting the code right and then being foiled by it take minutes to process. Speaking of codes, though - all the codes in this movie that require "cracking" (sure, there's only 2 of them) are absolutely ridiculous. Like, the code setters for the security needed help from those google "autosuggest passwords" that no one could remember even if they had written them down.

Nonsense. It's all nonsense.

[formulawonu]

Can I have a Lance imagine were it’s like a enemies to lovers situation were I work for Aston Martin as like his assistant and him and I don’t get along at all we always bicker and tease other when I have to go over his schedule in his driver room we get into one of our heated arguments as we subconsciously get closer and we kiss and it gets a little heated. Thanks!

omg hi sorry this took a while! here it is, hope you like it <3 thank you sm for requesting!

listen / lance stroll

(gif is not mine!)

warnings: kissing? kinda steamy. bickering and teasing

a/n: was fun writing this one haha i love writing tropes/prompts like this!!!! i'm always open to requests x

Working for an F1 team has always been your dream. You’ve always admired how much work and efficiency is needed in getting the results each team aims for so when you were given the chance to be part of something that special, you jumped and took it immediately. It was obviously also a plus that you’d gotten offered to work for Aston Martin since it meant helping out a team that was rebuilding. You’d be lying, however, if you said that everything about your dream job was perfect. Great environment? Check. Opportunity to travel? Check. Making enough money? Check. Great drivers? Debatable.

The job offered to you was to be the personal assistant of one of the drivers, Lance Stroll. You were really excited when you heard you would be working that closely with him since that meant you’d also get to be closer to the action and learning all about the inside-outs of racing. What you weren’t expecting, however, was for the both of you to start off on the wrong foot which then spiraled into him being literally the only person you did not get along with in the team and vice-versa.

“Oh my god. I am so sorry.” Your cheeks are heating up and you stare at the large coffee stain now covering what once was a clean green Aston Martin shirt. You look up and make eye contact with the guy you’re supposed to be working for now. Just your luck. This was not how you wanted to meet Lance Stroll on your first day. The person behind the hospitality counter hands you tissue and you’re about to hand it to him but he snatches it out of your hands, a scowl on his face. “I’m supposed to be going to the media pen. You’ve obviously ruined that now. Do you even know what you’re doing?” You reel back a bit, kind of shocked at how sharp Lance’s words are. He doesn’t even glance at you as he walks away, shaking his head. He makes his way upstairs, presumably to ask someone for a new shirt instead of going to the media pen. Maybe he was just having a rough day. How was he going to react when he found out you were going to be his new assistant?

“No way. This is a joke.” Nope. He isn’t having a rough day. He’s just being a total jackass. You try your best to act professionally as Lance comes into the room. “She can’t be my assistant. She literally caused me to be late to my schedule for the day. I need someone competent.” You furrow your eyebrows, starting to get frustrated with the guy in front of you. Sure, you had messed up. It was an accident and after asking around, Lance had actually made it just in time to the media pen earlier that day. You had apologized too. “Look, I’m sorry that my coffee had spilled on your shirt but that isn’t a basis for how I work. My competency does not depend on whether you were standing too close to me.” You shoot back. Lance has an incredulous look on his face, glancing at his dad who is watching all of this unfold. You probably shouldn’t have said that last part but you were not going to let someone put all the blame on you. Lawrence Stroll, your boss, just looks on and is clearly amused at what’s happening.

Lance continues looking at his dad, trying to convey how displeased he is with the decision made. “Lance, Y/N’s track record and experience is actually very impressive. I think she’ll be very good for you. You both just started off on the wrong foot. You both have a lot to learn from each other.” You flash a smile at Lawrence then look at Lance, who is still not smiling. You don’t like the guy but if this is what you have to put up with to continue doing your dream job, you can be damn sure you’d be professional.

“You don’t have to like me but we are going to be working closely together so I’d suggest sucking it up. Let’s try this again. I’m Y/N.” You say, reaching a hand out. Lance glances at your hand and grimaces. He shakes it once then puts it down, not bothering to introduce himself. He storms out of the room immediately after. You were beginning to resent the job you so desperately wanted.

“Lance, whatever it is you’re trying to do, it’s not going to work with me.” Lance cocks an eyebrow up at you, clearly amused and suddenly turning whatever you’ve said into a challenge. A couple of months after you both started working together, you both had fallen into a routine of your own. The both of you bickered incessantly and never bothered getting to know each other. It was always you giving Lance a rundown of his schedule, prepping him when necessary and Lance shooting back a snarky remark or pretending to ignore whatever you said. “What do you think I’m trying to do?” “You’re trying to be an idiot again.” Lance rolls his eyes at you from the couch. You were currently going through his schedule for the day at his driver’s room but he just wasn’t listening to you. Every time you’d glance up from your clipboard, Lance was scrolling through his phone, not paying attention.

“I’m serious. You messed up the press conference last week by talking about something the team was not ready to share yet. I specifically told you not to and you did anyway because you weren’t listening to me.” “Well, do a better job at making me listen then.” He says, finally glancing at you. You let out a frustrated sigh. “I didn’t think you were the type to need to be babied,” You taunt, making your way to the couch. “Do you need this actually shoved in your face for you to listen? Is that the pace we’re going for?” You place the clipboard directly in his line of vision, on top of his phone. You glance at his face, now way closer to you than it had been a couple of seconds ago. Only a couple of inches separate you both. Lance looks at the clipboard then at you, clearly unamused.

“Are you saying I’m slow?”

“You said that, not me.”

“Ridiculous.”

“I know you are, but what am I?”

The exchange between you two has you both glaring at each other, getting closer to one another’s faces. There’s a tiny glint in his eyes, almost as if he’s amused by what’s happening. You can imagine you have the same one. “You’re actually impossible.” He says, still looking straight into your eyes. You pretend to squint, inching just a bit closer to Lance’s face. “Would you look at that? It’s like looking into a mirror.” You don’t realize how close you two actually are until Lance breaks eye contact, glancing down at your lips then back up to your eyes. The mood in the room has suddenly shifted, everything feeling a bit too hot for your liking. The position you’re in isn’t helping at all either. For some reason, you’ve found yourself beside Lance, your sides touching. Lance’s arm is draped on the part of the couch behind you and your arm is still on top of your clipboard, which is on top of his lap. Your faces are so near each other, closer than they’ve ever been before. You know you’re treading dangerous territory but for some reason you want to play with the situation a little longer.

“Do I need to get this close to get you to listen?” You whisper, glancing at his lips then back up to his eyes. Lance is clearly stuck in the moment too, trying to process what’s going on. The glint is back in his eyes. “I don’t think that’s close enough.” He whispers back. You inch just a bit closer, still not allowing yourself to connect your lips to his. You want him to make the move. You know this is another game you both are playing. “How about now?” He just shakes his head. You move in even closer, close enough that you can feel his breath fan your face. Lance rolls his eyes, obviously frustrated and decides to take matters into his own hands. One second you’re watching him in amusement, the next your hands are in his hair.

Lance crashes his lips onto yours, his arms quickly moving from the sides of the couch to your waist. Your hands find their way into his hair as you kiss him back with just as much intensity. There was no way you were actually doing this right now. What were you doing making out with Lance? What if someone entered? What if someone heard you both? These thoughts quickly exit your mind as Lance pulls you onto his lap, making you straddle him. He pulls away then starts trailing kisses down your neck. “You’re so hot when you’re angry.” He says in between kisses. “You make me angry.” You retort. You try to push your bodies closer together, feeling his excitement rub against your thighs. He groans. “You’re actually crazy.” He says before connecting his lips to yours once more. You both continue making out for quite some time until you feel your watch buzz with an alarm. Media pen. Lance needs to be in the media pen. You pull away and plant kisses in the sensitive spot near his ear. “You,” you start. “Need,” you kiss his jaw. “To go,” you kiss his cheek. “To the media pen.” You plant one last kiss on his lips then get off of him.

Lance looks exasperated on the couch as you smile down at him. “Are you being serious right now?” He asks. You nod your head, still flushed from what just happened. “Dead serious. Come on, off you go.” Lance shakes his head as he gets up, trying to process what’s just happened. You needed to process it too. You take a quick look at him to see if he looks presentable. You reach the bottom half of his body and blush. You make your way out to the door. “I’ll let you fix yourself up and meet you outside. You have five minutes.”

[gloryofroses19]

The Mixture

Iron Legacy Chapter 2

London, England - October 2012

Approaching the brunette furiously writing in a notebook, the man spoke “Good book?”

“I’m not sure yet” Samantha replied to the Cockney accent, not bothering to look up.

Attempting again to catch her attention, the man took a seat next to her at the bar,“Can I buy you a drink? My name is Neil.”

“No thanks, I’ve got one coming” was her response as she continued to write.

“Put it on my tab.” Neil said motioning to the bartender.

Finally looking up, Samantha turned to the man, “That’s very sweet” and continued to the bartender “but no thank you, I’m working.”

“Oh, a modern woman, I love a working girl. You can be Julia Roberts and I’ll play Richard Gere” Neil pressed on throwing Samantha a wink. “Maybe I should keep you company, so no other man makes the same mistake.”

Failing to suppress her eye roll, Samantha motioned to her notebook, “I appreciate how you want to be the savior of my reputation but I’m a little bust planning a drilling borer that uses sonic shock waves to help reduce our carbon footprint.”

“Schematic three really paints a picture” intoned an Irish accent.

Turning to the new voice, a smile broke out on her face, “what on Earth are you doing here?”

“Trying to escape the depressing eternal English rain.”

“I'm sure you know something about eternity.” Samantha mumbled taking in his devastatingly handsome disheveled leather clad form.

Enjoying the way her eyes took in his form, Druig ran a hand through his wet curls. “And then I walked in and saw you and thought I’d stop by to say hello so hello.” Druig said smirking at Samantha, “Goodbye” he finished to the man peering at the pair of brunettes.

Neither seemed to notice Neil leaving as they were too busy gazing at each other, blue ocean meeting the emerald earth. The few hours they spent together in Rio didn’t make them friends, but it did make them acquaintances and sometimes that’s all you need to want to know someone more.

“Want some company?” Druig questioned gesturing to the open seat next to her.

“I’d love it.”

“Then it would be m’honor.” Druig grinned as he sat down, “How long are you in town for?”

“Two more days, I have some meetings with European subsidiaries of Stark Industries.”

“I thought you didn’t run Stark Industries.” Druig replied before telling the bartender to bring him a pint.

Picking up her cup of tea, Samantha took a sip before explaining. “I don’t, Pepper is CEO, but Tony and I are still the owners while Tony continues to be the face and I sometimes help him invent things.”

“Like sonic drills.” Druig confirmed gesturing to her blue notebook.

“Like sonic drills” Samantha pushed the book aside.

“So why are you handling this instead of Pepper or Tony?”

“Pepper is currently napping at the hotel and Tony is on Avenger business about some crazy count in Italy and since shareholders tend to feel better when a Stark is present, here I am.”

Nodding along, Druig leaned in, “Well it seems that we were meant to meet again.”

Leaning in as well, Samantha raised an eyebrow at him, “I don’t know about meant to meet, it could just be coincidence.”

“Mmm I don’t know if the universe is ever that lazy.” Druig debated blatantly glancing at her glossed lips.

Beginning to feel warm under his heated gaze, Samantha moved back and rested her chin on her closed fist looking him up and down. “I wouldn't have ever put you down as someone who would believe in fate.”

“And why not?” Druig asked, feigning a wounded tone.

“Because you and your family literally set humanity on their current course. What we, mere mortals, would define as fate is actually immortals pulling the strings and placing us on a predetermined road.”

“That’s not true. Ajax never let us interfere with human conflict which is sadly the largest evolutionary catalyst. We merely pushed you in the right direction by killing Deviants thereby allowing you to procreate and helping inspire new inventions.” Pausing, Druig bumped his shoulder into hers, “For example, did I not just hear about two certain siblings creating a flesh healing serum which will revolutionize modern medicine?”

Laughing, Samantha nodded. “Yes, but it was largely born out of selfish pursuits. When you have a heroic older brother who decides to throw himself headfirst into fights, you’ve got to come up with methods to patch him up after.”

Noticing her bashful stare, Druig decided to push. “Plus, we ‘mighty immortals’ largely abandoned that job a few thousand years ago or were you too busy admiring my Adonis good looks last time we met to remember?” Druig couldn’t help but tease in order to enjoy the glow that was taking over Samantha’s cheeks. He couldn’t explain why ever since he had met her in Rio all those months ago, he hadn’t been able to get her out of his head.

“Can you honestly blame me though? It’s not every day you meet a tall, dark and handsome immortal promising to tell you about the wonders of the world.” Samantha teased back in an attempt to quell the butterflies in her stomach. Last time they met, his words had an immediate effect and Samantha was beginning to learn that this time was no different. It didn’t seem to matter that the feeling was familiar, it was the thrill of adrenaline all the same.

Druig chuckled to himself as he felt his cheeks warm under her mischievous stare. Living for as long as he has, Druig was no stranger to compliments. Whether it be from a thankful Babylon peasant who he saved from a beating to an Asgardian noblewoman looking for a way to find favor in Odin’s eye, Druig had heard them all. However, the compliment coming from Samantha felt different. Druig would go as far as to categorize it as dangerous, spreading seeds of something that could bloom into a garden.

“Oh, is that what I promised you? Then I seem to not be upholding my end of the bargain. And what wonder shall I regale you with today m’lady?”

Wanting to know more about the man in front of her, Samantha asked, “What’s your least favorite wonder?”

A smile broke out on his face, before responding. “I should have learned by now to expect the unexpected question when it comes to lovely, lovely Samantha.”

Druig knew the answer as soon as she asked it but he looked beyond Samantha to the pouring rain outside to buy himself time. “The ancient Aztec capital city of Tenochtitlan. It was the last time we were all together.”

Taking him in, Samantha noticed the faraway look in his cerulean eyes. “I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to bring up bad memories.”

“There’s nothing to be sorry for,” Druig began sitting up straight taking on an air of haughtiness, “I left them for a reason.”

Not liking the display of arrogance being put before her, Samantha rebuffed his claim. “But you must be lonely, people in the village aren’t your family or friends. Surely you miss being around people who truly care for you.” Although she didn’t have the power to control minds, she was rich and that hypnotized people all the same. She was no stranger to people using and blindly following her in hopes of gaining favors and therefore, she knew how hollow it made you feel.

Turning to her, Druig’s Irish lilt took on a tone of cold indifference, “Tell me, do you miss your parents?”

“Not really… I barely knew them; I lost my parents when I was two. So, I guess you could say, I miss the idea of them more than them actually...”

Listening to her somber tone and avoidant eye contact, Druig felt immediate guilt for what he said. He knew she hadn’t meant harm in questions. If anything, he understood that she was trying to bridge the divide that had erupted within his heart caused by his family’s failures. In that moment, Druig realized that he had let his walls down without realizing around her and there was no time to build them again.

“I am truly sorry, losing family is never easy.”

Shrugging Samantha, met his gaze again. “It’s a sad part but not a sad life. I grew up in a loving family despite the tragedy. I had Tony and Jarvis and Anna and Rhodey and eventually, Pepper. I never felt like I was missing anything.”

“Anna?” Druig asked hoping to prolong the soft smile and light that had taken over her eyes as she thought of her family.

“Anna was Jarvis’ wife, the man, not the AI system named after him.” Samantha clarified with a laugh recalling Druig’s initial confusion. “She actually taught me how to cook, bake and all other necessary things a girl should know like always carrying a knife concealed in a lipstick tube.”

“Oh, I’d love to try it sometime.” A glutton for all things edible, Druig was curious to see what her skillful hands could come up in the kitchen. Plus, a promise of being able to see her again, was another treat that Druig couldn’t stay away from.

“My cooking or lipstick knife?” Samantha teased.

The brunette pair shared a laugh as they both eagerly waited for the opportunity to further understand the enigma in front of them.

A/N: Feedback is always appreciated!

Taglist: @7minutes-tomidnight , @keziahwrites , @carpediem1219 , @ofrosesandteacups , @bubblyyz

Link to Masterlist

[taeescript]

29+1 (Part One)

𝔰𝔶𝔫𝔬𝔭𝔰𝔦𝔰: In which Seokjin is the Devil from The Devil Wears Prada, Taehyung is your work Jesus and Jimin is your handsome successful brother. 

𝔭𝔞𝔦𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰: seokjin x reader (taehyung x reader if you squint real hard) 

𝔤𝔢𝔫𝔯𝔢: slice of life; ceo!seokjin (diva!seokjin)

𝔴𝔠: 3.6k

𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰: heavy use of alcohol as a coping mechanism, a plethora of sarcasm (please don’t be offended) and a sprinkle of softness (is that a warning?). 

𝔞/𝔫: this sat in my unwritten folder since 2017 no lie. I wrote the premise and a singular paragraph at that time, then just gave up. I opened it a few days ago, got inspired again and this word vomit came out (heavily influenced by a midnight Zoom call with my friends). Ngl this was so much fun to write, and I hope you all enjoy it as much as I did. This will probably be in three parts.  𝔡𝔦𝔰𝔠𝔩𝔞𝔦𝔪𝔢𝔯: I did not know that DailyHive is an actual online news source when writing. This work is purely fictional and has absolutely nothing to do with the real DailyHive. 

part two

Your friends have a saying: After 29, nobody shares their age until they’ve accomplished something. 

In the past, you didn’t understand it. What’s so bad about saying you’re 30 or you’re 32? That’s still a young age! Sure, you’re not exactly in your prime anymore but you’re not old, right?

So, you continue in your own wondrous world of naïveté until that fateful day at your class reunion. You had simply been walking around, minding your own business when you had been stopped by an old colleague.

“Hey, Y/N, right?” she waves you down. 

You smile kindly, not even bothering to try and remember her name (you sucked at names, what could you say). 

“Hey…you!” you chuckle lightly, “How have you been doing?” 

An everyday question leading to catastrophic effects. 

“Oh you know,” she says and rolls her eyes as if you truly did know, “I’ve just been out and about. Did I tell you though? I got married last year!” She holds out her hand in which a giant diamond adorns her finger. “Wow!” you gasp, feigning interest. It’s not that you aren’t happy for her, but you are reminded of just how single you are currently. When was the last time you felt another human’s touch? Does kissing come back as easily as riding a bicycle? “Hey!” she says suddenly, “I’m actually meeting with a couple of friends from our class. You should come join! I’m sure they’d be happy to see you again!” You want to wave her off, but against your better judgment, you find yourself following in her footsteps and listening to her speak about wedding venues and honeymoon destinations.

“Oh my god!” another female voice filters in.

The “couple of friends” this old classmate had mentioned is in fact a fairly impressive size of twenty. This is also the third time the wedding announcement has been made. 

“Last year?” the female continues, “Weren’t you young?”

Yes, you want to respond. Yes she was young. A full 365 days younger than she is now.

Your classmate, Sooyoung (or Kiko as she insists going by now) titters in front of you. “I mean, you can sort of say I’m a late bloomer. I got married when I was 31.”

Her words unintentionally cut into you. Here you are at 29 without a beau in sight. You take a fast swig of your beer and end up hitting the empty glass with a clink to your teeth. Nobody notices.

“Enough about me, however, how about you?”

“I started my own business actually. It’s been doing really well and it’s been a crazy mind. Imagine me, my own boss at only 33!”

You nervously join them when they suddenly laugh together.  

“Hi, can I get another pint please? Actually add a tequila shot to that,” you whisper the last part to the waitress you had just stopped.

And that was how the rest of the night went. People asking one another what they had accomplished. Any moment in time after 30 would not be mentioned until somebody travelled to Uganda to build houses at 31 or another gave birth at the same age. Below 30, anything would be attributed to luck or in your case…

“What are you doing currently?” somebody asks you, “The little baby of our class.”

Swallowing your third tequila shot of the night, you wonder for the umpteenth time how you had become a part of this giant sharing circle. You wonder if it’s a blessing or a curse that you had graduated a little early and thus was younger than most of your peers.

“Well,” you start, “I’m currently working at DailyHive.”

“Ohh!” a man gushes. You recognize him as the once-upon-a-time science partner you used to cheat notes off of. “I use DailyHive nearly as much as Instagram these days. You guys cover everything from news to sports to fashion.”

You shrug. “Yeah. It’s, uh… it’s a pretty big company!”

“What are you doing there?”

Kiko-ex-Sooyoung hits the man teasingly on the shoulder. “Y/N is probably the Director of Marketing or something. Remember how she used to spend all class doodling in her notebook?”

“Or sleeping!” someone quips.

You don’t join in when they all laugh.

“I’m…an intern,” you say with as much pride as you can in a group of established professionals ranging from dermatologists to that one guy who had flown around the world as a TedTalk guest speaker.

A hushed silence befalls everyone.

“That’s…cool!” the same man encourages you, “Interns are totally rad! Everyone wants an intern spot these days.”

His girlfriend pats your arm, almost empathetically. “Yeah. I know a bunch of people who first start off as interns and then they shoot up the ladder quick enough. As long as you’re no longer an intern at 30, you’re golden!”

Once again, the entire group laughs as if she has said the most hilarious of jokes.

She composes herself and says to you, “Because after that, you should have accomplished something.”

Her words still ring in your ears as you sit at your desk this morning.

Yeah…something. All you need to do is accomplish something in the next three months before you are officially, 29 + 1.

Your fingers tap against your thighs silently while you observe the current debate that is occurring in the conference room. You barely have time to sweep the falling hair back behind your ear as your fingers ferociously fly across the keyboard to keep in track with the meeting.

Fei is arguing that the implement of a new search word system would boost users while Daniel says that it is a waste of resources. Instead, everything should be put into updating the entire system as a whole. You have long since lost track of their words as neither pertain to what you do as an intern.

“Enough,” the CEO of DailyHive holds up a hand. His one word causes the entire room to hush over – truly, the words of a god.

And that might as well be what he is. With his hair swept back and a lone tendril curling perfectly above his brow, Kim Seokjin is legitimately a walking god. Off his broad shoulders hang an expensive white linen suit bought with his pocket change and your yearly salary. A pair of sunglasses hangs in the V of the collared shirt dipping low enough to blur the lines between being fashionably professional and just downright sexy.

The snap of his fingers brings you back to the present.

He dramatically rolls his eyes and accepts that you are an incompetent minute-taker.  

“I have to remember that the world just doesn’t move as fast as I do.”  

                                                            - Quote: Rolling Stones 2019 Kim Seokjin.

Now if only he’d remember he had once said that.

He points at each of them with one finger, then swipes to the left. “Both of you, solve this outside. I don’t want to hear your voices any longer. You two from the marketing team, Ungroomed Stache and Acne Chin, create me a report if we are to implement Ms. Song’s idea. The two of you from…” he takes a pause here clearly having forgotten who his employees are, “The two of you do the same thing but for Mr. Hwang.”

The pair from accounting open their mouth to protest that they are in charge of only numbers, but they are ignored.

“All of you out now. Except you,” he points his finger directly at you, “Stay.”

Nobody utters a single word until they have all left and you are left alone with him. Standing before him with your hands folded nicely in front of you, you blink and wait.

He stares right back at you, picks up his coffee mug and drops it. The clatter of ceramic smashing against the ground causes a pause in the loud buzz outside the room. You know everybody’s focus has been shifted into the room.

“Do you want to kill me?” he drawls.

You take a long inhale. “No,” you say.

“No?” he repeats the word, “Well I think you do. Did you check this coffee before you brought it to me? I tasted cinnamon in it. You know how I’m allergic to cinnamon. Get me a new cup. And this mess, get somebody to clean it. I don’t want the smell of coffee in this room when I have my next meeting here in twenty. I’m taking a smoke a break.”

He stands up and brushes past you without saying anything else.

Nobody can be allergic to cinnamon. Besides if he had actually tasted cinnamon and was that sensitive, he would be dead. And good riddance to that.

Of course, you say none of this and wordlessly begin to pick up the broken ceramic pieces of the dead mug. The bustling outside the meeting room has returned back to its normal state of chaos. Seeing the ugly stain of coffee on the once pristine carpet causes you to swear beneath your breath.

“Who the fuck is allergic to cinnamon?” a new voice says, sliding up beside you.  

The second god in DailyHive; the much nicer and evidently preferred Kim; Taehyung takes the mug pieces from you and drops it into the garbage bin.

Blessed with not only intelligence but devilishly model-like features, he is your desk buddy in the small space allotted for interns and your sole friend in the company.

“Tae,” you sigh with exasperation upon seeing your lifesaver, “What am I going to do about this stain? He’s going to return in fifteen and there’s no way I can get a coffee stain out of this expensive-ass carpet.”

Taehyung taps a long finger to his lips, leaves the room briefly, and returns with a roll of Bounty sheets and a can of Febreze. He promptly blots as much of the coffee off from the carpet then proceeds to pull the meeting table.

“C’mon, Y/N, don’t just stand there. Help me! Time is of the essence!”

You laugh and join him in moving the table so that one of the legs cover the stain 80% of the way. Once he is satisfied, he takes the Febreze and sprays until the whole room smells like “Hawaiian Aloha”.

“You’re welcome.” He gives an extravagant bow, the motion popping open the top button of his shirt to expose a surprisingly chiseled chest.

Fei returns back into the room holding a phone to her ear and a clipboard in her left hand. “What the hell? It smells like a Bath & Body Works in here. Intern, aren’t you supposed to be filing or something? Stop standing around and be useful.” She grips Taehyung’s arm and drags him out of the room. “Button up. This is a professional workplace.”

You give him a tiny wave as Taehyung is steered away by his girlfriend and back to the cubicles.

Taehyung may be your saviour at work, but outside, it cannot be denied that your brother is the true Fountain of Life.

A week has passed since the coffee incident (you suspect a cleaning personnel had found the stain and cleaned up after your improv as aforementioned stain can no longer be found), but Jimin still brings it up.

“I still can’t believe that he said he was allergic to cinnamon. I’ve never heard of such bullshit before,” your brother says over the phone. You can practically hear his eyeroll from across the world.

As a renowned ophthalmologist, you have not seen Jimin for close to a year as he has been initiating his new clinic, a flying eye hospital.

“You should hear his Starbucks order. I always feel like I’m ready to launch my next EP whenever I’m at the counter,” you say.

Jimin laughs. There is the muffled sounds of voices as his never-ending flow of patients have arrived for the day.

“I shouldn’t keep you,” you say upon hearing that, “You’re probably really busy.”

“No,” he says, “I’ve got a few minutes if you’ve got a few. I miss talking to my baby sister.”

“I’m not a baby anymore, Jiminie,” you say using the nickname he hated.

“Oh that’s right. Your birthday’s in a little under three months, right? My baby sister is turning the big three-oh.”

“God, don’t remind me.”

“Want me to come visit you?”

You contemplate the idea once, having not seen Jimin in quite a while.

“Only if you have time. But I feel like Mom and Dad would probably want to see you more. Speaking of which, um… How are Mom and Dad?”

“They’re good. I hear Dad is finally going to retire this year. He’s giving his practice to Kibum, you remember him? Mom will probably start pestering us about what to do for his retirement party.”

There is a pause.

“You know, it wouldn’t hurt to say hi to them once in a while.”

You sigh. “And say what? Hey, it’s me. The child that ran away from home at 18? Yeah, I’m not a doctor like everybody else in the family but a 29 year old intern at a popular app company. Whassuuup?”

“Y/N, that’s not what I – ”

“It’s okay, Jimin. I’ve come to accept that not everybody is cut out to be a doctor. I just wish Mom and Dad could realize that.”

Jimin sighs on your behalf. There is the sound of a crying child coming through the earphone. “Well, your contract expires a few weeks after your birthday, right? Who knows, you might be the next Mark Zuckerberg.”

He has never explicitly inquired about your life plan and you know this is as much as he is willing to push without asking, “What’s next after this intern hiccup?” At least he had the decency to compare you to a controversial Internet entrepreneur.

The child is crying much louder now.

“Again with my birthday. But I’ll let you know,” is the only reply you can come up with at the moment. “Okay, brother, go forth and heal the blind. I bless thee in the name of the Holy Spirit, Son and Ghost.”

There is true laughter that rings from Jimin as he ends the call. “It’s Father, Son and Holy Ghost you dweeb. I love you sis.”

“You too.” You hang up first before he can add anything else.

With that, you enter into the 7am Starbucks queue and prepare yourself in running the first single of your long overdue EP.

Seokjin leans back in his chair, watching you from inside his office. Today he has chosen a black turtleneck and a brazen maroon-nearly purple suit jacket to complete the outfit. For once, there is an empty mug of coffee beside him and his morning headache has been appeased.

He knew he had given you an impossible task.

“Compile all the troubleshooting errors we have received since the launch of DailyHive. Organize it in a manner that allows me to identify the most prominent problem. Run it through whomever you please before giving it to me. I don’t need to waste my time correcting your mistakes.”

There is an amused smile that bubbles beneath his otherwise stoic features. He cannot deny that there is, might he dare say, a cute quality about you as you manually scan through the received concerns on your laptop dating back to the initial beta tests – the ones that were lost in a data crash and only backed up with unintelligible scribblings of previous interns.

The moment you had been introduced as the new intern, you had caught his eye. You are exquisitely mundane, and perhaps the reason you had even caught him the first time was due to solely to the fact that you were older than most interns – himself even. Nevertheless, you continue to present him small surprises in your tenacity and capability to tackle challenges.

“Mr. Kim.”

His intercom comes alive with the voice of his secretary.

Seokjin’s eyes do not leave you as he answers.

“Mr. Hwang is on line two. Would you like me to defer him to a later time if you are currently busy?”

Seokjin cannot help but sigh. Hwang Junho, his co-founder, while a genius in international business is also a notorious chatterbox and gossip. There is seldom a reason for Junho to call him except to relay the cover titles of E!Magazine.

“Did he mention a reason for calling?” Seokjin inquires.

His secretary seems to be reading from a note. “He says it’s to do with the company. Something he read from Cosmopolitan this morning.”

So not E! but another sister celebrity gossip blog. He checks his watch and duly notes that he certainly has no meetings scheduled until later in the afternoon where your report would be needed to run a preliminary analysis.

“Sir?”

“Yes, put him through. But tell him I’ve got only five minutes, so he’s better give me the Cliffnotes version,” Seokjin sighs again.

Before he can be connected, Seokjin quickly says, “What’s the name of that intern again?”

“Who?” his secretary asks, “We’ve hired four since the beginning of the year.”

“The one who keeps wanting to poison me.”

“I’m sorry, Sir?” she sounds concerned.

“The one who keeps forgetting that I despise cinnamon.”

There is no response.

“The older one. Spilled coffee a while ago but still has enough coordination to pull together a decent report.”

“Ah,” she says.

He waits patiently as she searches through the database, eventually giving him your name. He gives a slight pause and then says, “Good. Now patch me with Junho.”

There is a momentary buzz as the call becomes connected in which Seokjin turns over the syllables of your name wordlessly.

“Mr. Kim. The man of the hour. How are you, my brother?” Junho’s baritone fills the office in a manner of seconds.

Despite the little annoying quirks, Seokjin cannot help but smile when hearing the voice of his best friend.

“You’ve got three minutes, Junho.”

Junho grumbles. “That’s not my fault. You were the one still on the line with your secretary. Is it still Yerin? ‘Cuz I won’t blame you if that’s the case. Did I catch you doing some naughty phone sex during office hours?”

“Two.”

“Holy hell. Fine. It’s always business with you. That’s why the tabloids are always writing you as an uptight asshole.”

This shifts Seokjin’s attention to the phone. His name is seldomly mentioned except for the features in business columns. He prefers to stay out of the limelight.

“What?”

“Put your name on Google.”

Seokjin does as he is told.

There are millions of results, but the first few pages share the same headline. He clicks on the first one with a grimace.

“Kim Seokjin. Mr. Worldwide Handsome as noted by his fans, has recently sparked Internet outrage.”

A quick skim of the otherwise trashy article brought to the surface a summary: his last dating scandal had ended badly and the repercussions of blowing off a famous celebrity’s daughter had finally caught up with him. The Internet was calling him arrogant, narrow-minded, and even greedy. “The young Chief Executive Officer of booming social media app DailyHive has been accused of using his relationship with actress XYZ to further his own business. Once he gained recognition from aforementioned relationship, he has cold-heartedly cast her away to pursue his next.” “You’re calling me for this bullshit?” Seokjin scoffs. Junho tuts his tongue loudly. “This is not bullshit. It’s affecting the image of your company. Do you think people want to download and support an app that is run by somebody who is being called cruel and dishonest? You’ve got to address this soon before it gets out of control. You’re lucky I have alerts set for these type of things. I caught it for you just in the nick of time.” Seokjin inhales deeply. “You’re also lucky that I’ve got the perfect solution in mind.” “That is?” “The Silver Gala,” Junho references the prestigious event. The Silver Gala is hosted annually and attended by the largest celebrities as well as other wealthy investors and guests. Those in the social circle shared between Seokjin and Junho often yearned for tickets to attend events such as this, as they serve as excellent networking opportunities. Besides the above, such events are circled by reporters and writers of gossip columns to get the exclusive scoop on any eyebrow-raising rumours. “The solution lies in such an event,” Junho continues, “You know how many people will be there. All you’ve got to do is show up with your average girl-next-door type and it’ll show how you’re actually really humble and down to earth. Kim Seokjin is perfectly capable of dating like any regular human being. He doesn’t use “love” or whatever to further his business. Love is the connection between two souls; two individuals who – ” “Beep. Your time has run out Junho. I’ve got another meeting scheduled right this moment,” Seokjin interrupts. “Dude, seriously. Think about it. You could bring Yerin. Everbody loves a good CEO and his secretary affair. And if that’s too juicy for you, I can introduce you to some girls. Or maybe we could go back to our university days and hit a bar, y’know?” Junho tries his best to persuade. “Fuck!” you swear beneath your breath right as you walk into Kim Seokjin’s office. His door had been open and, in your excitement to show your completed report, you had dropped all the loose papers on the ground. Four hours of organization gone, just like that. You hope that at least Seokjin hasn’t heard or noticed you as he had been engrossed in his phone call. Seokjin had in fact noticed you. He can’t help himself but follow the curvature of your bare shoulder as your bangs escape the hold of your scrunchie and sweep across your skin. “Don’t worry, Junho, I’ve just thought about it,” he says with a smile.

[sidespart]

For the fic title thing: Make Up Your Mind/Catch Me I’m Falling

Make Up Your Mind (this seriously got away from me and became basically a whole string of conscious fic whoops)

Logince, Bakery/coffeeshop AU Mutual Pining/ Not-Actually-Unrequited love, + loceit friendship

So Janus owns a Bakery (struggling to think of a snake/lie based bread pun for the name but ehh). He is the head only baker and sends most of his time in the basement kitchen blasting the phantom of the opera soundtrack and kneading dough. 

Logan is his childhood friend. Janus hired him as cashier after Logan dropped out of collage but then he never left and is now basically manager/ accountant/ hbic of this whole operation.

So one night as Janus is leaving he’s casually like: ‘oh by the way, a couple are coming by tomorrow for a wedding cake consultation’

And Logan blocks the door and is like: ‘Janus. We don’t do wedding cakes. We don’t even do cake. You only make weird artisanal bread. it took me 6 months and 8 powerpoint presentations to convince you to sell banana loaf’

Jan, his eye enormous: ‘but Logan, you should have heard this guy on the phone. They only want to use LGBTQ businesses for their wedding, they want to support the community that’s supported them for so long. He spoke so passionately and eloquently about why it just had to be us I couldn't say no’

Logan, his eyes not enormous: did you tell this man we make wedding cakes just to make the phone conversation end?

Janus: I was going to miss the murder, she wrote marathon, Logan 

So Jan manages to escape, and Logan rolls his eyes but like. This is nowhere near the worst ‘cleaning up after Janus lied to get out of a situation and made everything more complicated for no goddamm reason’ incident that he has had to deal with during the course of their friendship so, whatever: he can tell the couple there was a miscommunication when they show up in the morning. 

Next day, the guys arrive. Virgil, who barley introduces himself and then stays hunched in his hoodie not speaking for the whole meeting, and Roman. 

Roman does not have a problem speaking. Roman has lots of ideas.

Roman has a binder. 

Somehow in the course of this conversation Logan goes from ‘we don’t make wedding cakes’ to ‘I’LL SHOW YOU, WE’LL MAKE THE BEST GODDAMM WEDDING CAKE THIS TOWN HAS EVER SEEN’

Maybe it was the passion of Romans argument. Maybe it was the slightly disdainful look on his face when he looked round the shop. Maybe it was the ridiculous amount of money he was prepared to pay (see: Janus insists on only making specific, weird bread as to why the shop’s always on the brink of collapse). Maybe it was the power of the binder (Logan is like 80% sure Roman hit him with the binder at one point). Maybe its just Logan hasn't had a full blown passionate argument like that since high school debate club and the rush of adrenaline made him dumb.

Whatever the reason - they’re now fully committed to making this 6 tier, purple and blue, Disney inspired, multiflavoured wedding cake

(Janus, who skipped out on the meeting because he is Like That: But Logan....we don’t make wedding cakes...this was really irresponsible of you...

 Logan: I know where you sleep. I could kill you at any time) 

Which would be doable (the weddings a while off, and Logan is ready to RESEARCH) except Roman keeps. Coming. Back. 

With new ideas. And tweaks. And suggestions. All of them seemingly designed to make the cake less structurally sound. 

Basically every time he comes in they end up having a blazing row, first about Romans inability to make up his mind about the cake and then about...literally everything. One time they spent 25 minuets arguing about whether or not Shakespeare wrote all of his plays, which somehow turns into ‘who was the best host of blues clues?’ which then turned  into ‘how would nationalised healthcare best be implemented?’ (the loudest arguments were during the blues clues section).Logan had even fewer customers then normal that day.

(Logan: I hate that guy so much! He shows up at 2pm every day and now my blood pressure has started going up at 1.55pm in anticipation of the fight! He’s causing me actual medical distress because he’s so stupid!

Janus:...you’ve memorised some guys schedule and your heart starts racing whenever you see him?

Logan: yes! because he is my enemy!

Janus:...

Janus: mmKay.)

ANYway, one day Roman turns up and is like: Can’t fight today. Need caffeine. Must Study. and sequesters himself on one of their two rinky dink tables and starts pulling enormous textbooks out of his bag. Turns out Roman is in law school, he’s back home for the whole summer to help with wedding prep and has been neglecting his summer reading. He wants to be an environmental lawyer and, ideally, singly handily prosecute every oil company and give a speech at the UN whilst wearing an immaculately fitted Italian suit. 

Logan has a panicked moment of OH NO HE’S SMART (he doesn't need an oh no he’s hot moment because Roman’s been hot the whole time). Very carefully he does not think about how upset hearing Roman mention the wedding again made him feel, and then shares a bit about his own anxiety during college which led to him dropping out.

Roman says degree or no degree its obvious Logan is one of the smartest, most capable people Romans ever met.

Cue: blushing, stammering, Logan standing up to quickly and knocking half a pot of coffee over etc etc all that good fluff. 

And after that their conversations are less confrontational (although they still debate like. everything.) and more friendly.

They have one (1) more conversation about the wedding wherein Roman apologises for being so stressed and snappy over all the preparation stuff but he just wants everything to be perfect for Virgil. (Logan, awkwardly: you must love him a lot. Roman, himbo-ly: Yeah!) aaand then Logan changes the subject to the best rhyming structure because Romans big sappy grin is making his heart do awful twisty things-

And eventually, Roman asks Logan to go out with him outside the bakery.

Logan: hahaha this is friendship, we are great friends, we are going out as friends. I am not going on a date with a man with a fiancé because that would be the actions of a crazy person.

 So they go on their date. It’s amazing. Roman leans in for a kiss at the end and Logan is delighted!

And then devastated.

He pushes Roman away, yells some creative insult (malodorous centurion?) and flees. Spends the next week basically hiding in the kitchen area, refusing to see any customers and working on the wedding cake.

(which is looking perfect by the way)

So after a week of Logan moping round the kitchen Janus finally blocks the door to stop him leaving and demand he tells him what the hell is wrong. And after a few minuets of filibustering Logan ends up telling him everything.

“In any case, the very fact that he is the kind of man who would cheat on his fiancé means he’s not the kind of man I thought he was. Therefore any alleged feelings I may have developed towards him would now be null and void” says Logan, looking like the worlds sadist accountant

Janus: So...wait. You’re saying wedding cake guy and hot lawyer guy are the same person?

(Logan: you need to come out of the basement more often Janus: YOU need to tell me what’s going on in your life more often. (they have had this conversation many times in the past))

So Janus sincerely tells Logan he’s sorry...and that he’s even more sorry that he needs him to help him deliver the cake to the venue tomorrow.

(this thing is way to big for one person to carry and there’s no way Jan would trust any of their occasional teenage cover staff to do this and ‘we’ll go round the back and you wont have to see anyone anyway comon Lo’ you basically built this monstrosity you should see it home)

So, reluctantly, Logan goes. And they go round the back as promised, and get this enormous cake settled, and then get told to wait there one sec cus one of the grooms is going to come sign for it and before Logan can throw himself out of the widow (get OFF me Janus we’re on the ground floor it’s FINE)  from behind them they hear squeeing.

There’s a curly haired dude in a pastel blue linen suit who Logan has never seen before in his life looking at the cake and cooing over ‘all the little details! its perfect! oh Virgil is going to love this! You know he was so embarrassed about asking for a Disney themed cake he had to ask Roman to go with him to -”

“Who ARE you?”

The man blinked at Logan, who realised dimly that he still had one foot up on the windowsill and slowly returned it to the floor. 

“I’m Patton” said Patton.

“And I’m Janus” said Janus, removing his arms from where they’d still been clamped around Logan’s waist and stepping smoothly towards Patton, clipboard held aloft “A pleasure to meet you, if you could just sign here...”

“BUT-” Patton paused, hand still raised to accept the clipboard, and looked over again at Logan who found himself mumbling:  “but - but the groom is supposed to sign for it?”

And Patton just smiled at him looking a bit bemused and goes ‘I am the groom? And who are you kiddo?”

Logan says he’s Logan. Patton suddenly looks a whole lot less friendly. 

“Oh.” says Patton. “You.”

And since Logan’s mind is currently refusing to take in the information in front of him Janus is the one who ends up stepping in between them and going “so just for 100% transparency - you are Patton. 

“yes?”

“and today you are marrying the love of your life: Virgil?”

“Yes!”

“And are either of you, at any point today, also planning on marrying one Roman Sanders, caffeine addict and terrible communicator?”

And Paton burst out laughing and says “ROMAN? Virgil’s big brother Roman? He’s my best man but I don’t think we’re planning to take it any further...”. And because Patton is apparently much quicker on the emotional uptake than Logan he gives him a vey soft, if slightly exasperated, look and says:

“Roman - who again, is my future brother-in-law- is helping set up in the main hall.”

And Logan likes to think he said thank you before he took off fucking RUNNING through the building but he can’t be sure.

So he gets to the hall, where a load of people are setting out chairs, putting up flowers etc,  and skids to a stop at one end of the aisle. Shouts: “ROMAN.” (Roman and Virgil, who were standing at the other end arguing over a flower arrangements, both look up) “YOU’RE NOT MARRYING YOUR BROTHER.”

“um.” Says Roman “No?”

Explanations are given. Virgil, who is a lot more talkative now that he’s not on 7th wedding appointment of the day burn out, is ready to physically fight Logan for breaking his brothers heart. And then once he understands the full story is ready to kill both of them for being such dumbasses.

Roman: But I s2g I told the guy on the phone that it was the groom and best man coming??? Logan: Yeah he might have lied and said you were a couple for a joke, or he may have just straight up not listened to you. Either way, he is just Like That.

Logan: WHY DID YOU NEVER MENTION VIRGIL WAS YOUR BORTHER?? Roman: I WAS TRYING TO GET TO KNOW YOU AND ALSO SEDUCE YOU WHY WOULD I WASTE TIME TALKING ABOUT MY LITTLE BROTHER??? Virgil: Yeah...he does like talking about himself, sorry he’s just  Like That.

Anyway it all ends fluffily, Patton and Virgil get married. Roman cries. Logan and Jan hang around for the wedding. Roman and Logan hold hands throughout the speeches and dance during the reception. Roman has to go back to law school soon but they agree to call each other every day at 2pm to catch up and argue. 

Janus gets off with the moustachioed DJ. 

And Roman and Logan get another chance at their first kiss.

[imo-chan-imagines]

『 As your boyfriend | BNHA Headcanons 』

From the good, to the bad, to the downright adorable.

Characters: female!reader, Aizawa Shouta

Tags/warnings: Boku No Hero Academia (anime), 18+, explicit descriptions of sex, smut, fluff, soft dom Aizawa, relationship, headcanons

⚠️ 18+ CONTENT! MINORS: PLEASE DO NOT INTERACT ⚠️

A/N: Right, so I'm simping for this man biG TIME, but I'm only on season 3, so no spoilers or anything, please. This is my first BNHA post (and it turned out way longer than I was intending 😅) Please let me know if you want more in the future!

Also, I have a repetitive strain injury, so typing stuff is taking a while at the moment. Sorry about that. Thanks for reading! Please enjoy ♡ ~Imo

☆ Aizawa Shouta ☆

I'm not going to lie. Shouta can be a big ol' grouchy pants sometimes, and it's basically impossible to win an argument against him makes you want to tear your hair out, sometimes

But most of the time, he's just tired and in pain, and he doesn't mean to be so crotchety

He's not the type to make excuses, though. That's childish. He means his apologies, even if they're simple

He'll normally initiate an apology by gently wrapping his arms around you from behind and resting his forehead on your shoulder 🥺

Physical contact is incredibly personal and intimate for him. He doesn't just touch anyone, or allow them to touch him

You're special 💞💫

Soft, gentle touches, like his fingers interlacing with yours, or his leg brushing up against you, are basically his way of saying 'I love you'

Catch me crying in the corner, a'ight? 😔

He rarely ever raises his voice. Like, ever he doesn't need to, and is aware that it can be scary

He's definitely the kind of guy to forget to tell people that you're dating, simply because he doesn't see how it's relevant or anyone else's business 🤦‍♀️

I mean, he ain't wrong, but–

And his mood switches between 'antisocial' and 'clingy' like a mechanical metronome did someone say 'cat'?

Sometimes, you'll be lucky if he speaks more than three words to you together in a whole day nothing personal 🤷‍♀️

But on other days, he literally won't let you out of his arms for the world he's complicated, okay?

You have missed many a parcel delivery because he wouldn't let you get up from his lap to answer the door 🙄😂

Boundaries and responsibilities are key and highly respected by Shouta, and he would NEVER erase your quirk without your permission, unless he literally had no other choice like someone's going to get hurt, or something

Is generally quite serious so what's new? but you're one of the few people he can relax around when he feels like it

9/10 of his jokes are dad jokes 😎 hell yeah

Takes a hard stance in financial debates, but is constantly broke af 😶 says he'll buy you dinner and presents you with some instant noodles with a 'Reduced To Clear' sticker on them

Will take a bite of your food/steal some off your plate without asking, and literally say nothing to defend himself #gremlin

Is incredibly shy and uncomfortable about being ~le horny~ until you've been together for literally forever

Even then, he's still shy about it when he has to bring it up and it's pretty cute, let me tell ya

It took him forever to admit to you that he gets turned on when you eat ice lollies

Guess what you do whenever you want to mess with him like a little brat 😛

But if he's in the mood, he will 100% whisper something dirty in your ear, even if you're completely alone and probably well past third base

He does it because he knows your pussy will clamp around him at the sound of his voice 😳🥵

*fans self profusely*

Genuine, unadulterated smiles are rare with Aizawa, but when he does 🙌 Heaven hath opened its gates and allowed an angel walk amongst mere mortals 🥺🤧

If he lays his head on your chest, he will fall asleep like that *snaps fingers*

Surprise nose and forehead kisses to show he loves you ❤

Calls you 'Kitten' this is basically already canon at this point

And he's all about those deep talks with you at 3 am when he can't sleep

Speaking of insomnia!

It's cheesy, but you're like a soothing balm. The warmth of your body makes him feel safe, your touch helps him relax, and your voice soothes him to sleep

He's never slept as well as when you're beside him 😭🤧

When cuddling, he likes to be the big spoon but will accept being the little spoon if you if you press your boobs against his back and ask really nicely 🤭

And he loves you stroking his hair and running your fingers through it 🥺

Netlix nights and pillow/blanket forts!!

Rainy days are a godsend. Staying inside all day under the blankets, with the soft sound of the rain falling outside and no-one to interrupt you – literal paradise

He makes mean hot cocoas and Irish coffees 😋 I feel like this man lives off Irish coffees 😂🤣

Wears a lot of black and grey sweatpants at home 😗 which highlight the outline of his dick just right, if ya know what I'm sayin' 👀

Doesn't like going out for dates and prefers staying inside and doing stuff together same, honeyy

But if you really like going out, he will somewhat begrudgingly agree to it and get all dressed up for you, just so long as he gets his fair share of home-dates, too 🤗

But if you also don't like going out... the two of you will basically never leave the house, except to get groceries in your pyjamas from the 24-hour convenience store down the road at one in the morning oddly specific, I know, but you get me

And sorry, but I don't make the rules

Well, actually, I do. But shush

We all know that Shouta cleans up *chef's kiss* So when you go somewhere ~fancy~ he always looks so damn fine 😩

But he has very little idea that he's hot he sees himself as a tired, walking dumpster fire🚶‍♂️🔥

Shouta will 100% turn into a crazy cat dude with 15+ cats if you don't stop him I never said you should, though 🙃

And is a 'minimalist texter' – basically, if he can't answer a text with 'yes', 'no,' 'maybe', or 'OK', then he probably won't answer it at all 😭😂

Especially if you try and sext him or send him your nudes while he's at work. He'll probably lecture you when he gets home and depending on just how much you turned him on, he might proceed to teach you a lesson...

But wear his shirt, and just his shirt or his hoodie and he's yours

Heart eyes, motherfucker 😍

And, depending on how you two are feeling that day, you may or may not end up getting dicked down on the nearest semi-flat surface right then and there 👀

But don't misunderstand. This is an incredibly tired man you have here, and his libido actually isn't through the roof sorry, ladies so this kind of thing isn't an everyday occurrence

But when he dicks you down, he dicks you down goooood

Shouta's not big on PDA, but makes up for it in private. We're talking hands and kisses all over your body he leaves nothing unloved 😏

And while he's not big on PDA, he is big on sneaky displays of affection or 'SDA', as I like to call it

Like subtly grabbing your butt for a second, or his hand on your thigh under the table at a dinner etc. especially around other people

But what really gets him going is slowly removing your clothes and taking you fully naked, spreading your legs wide and holding them open he likes the view 😍

He lowkey highkey worships your body 🙏 and will literally not shut up about how fucking pretty you are, and how fucking good it feels inside you his words, not mine 😳

Groans and growls a little when he's getting close/cumming especially when he's being a little rough and likes to cum together, but knows it's not always practical

He tends to be a gentle dom, but can get just a teensy bit 🤏 rough if he's too into it – but nothing outrageous

We're talking rough thrusts and a brutal pace, maybe holding onto you a little too hard and, waaahh, he gets so embarrassed if he leaves bruises

Is also into a little bondage, but again, only light stuff – restraining your wrists with his hands or his tie or his Capturing Weapon 👀 maybe blinding-folding you if you're okay with it

If you're not blindfolded, then I'm afraid he's all about that eye contact

Eating out your pussy? Eye contact. Pounding you into the mattress? Blazing eye contact. Rearranging your guts in front of the mirror? Fucking eye contact

And CONSENT, BABY. THAT'S WHAT HE'S FUCKING INTO 😌🙌💞

But all jokes aside – he's too used to taking without consent with his quirk, that he's kind of paranoid about it comes to sex but it's adorable and sweet, and honestly, still kind of hot

And speaking of eating pussy – goddamn does he like to please you. Like cream to a kitty 😛

Oh, and he just loves it when you suck on his fingers as he's pounding into you 🤤

And he likes to leave love bites in personal, inconspicuous places and sometimes on your neck

He's marking his woman 😌

When he gets suuuper horny, he likes to fuck you from behind, standing upright in front of the mirror. It's a specific kink he has of watching himself stretch you out as the length of his cock disappears inside you...

I can get behind that, lemme tell yaaa

I said he tends to be dominant, but female doms – fear not!

Shouta is quite flexible when it comes down to it and is kind of lazy, lmfao so he definitely has time for laying back, having the control taken away, and having his dick ridden

For him, it's really all about communication and what you're both comfortable with

I will say this, though: sometimes, his cat watches you while you're banging 😅😂

The first time it happened, you freaked out and refused to continue because – how could you??? But eventually, you just kind of got used to it 🤷‍♀️

The same way you've got used to it following you to the bathroom every time you go to take a shit 😭

So now, you just kind of laugh about it, which helps keep things a little lighter 🤗

After sex, he does like to snuggle, but you'll be lucky if he stays awake for more than 30 seconds it's one of the few times he actually can sleep well

If you're ever out and about, or even inside, and cold, he'll wrap you up in his clothes/scarf/blanket like a sushi roll like Eren wrapping up Mikasa in his scarf, all deadpan and everything 😐

It's not that often, but when he gets drunk, he gets all soft and emotional, and starts babbling about how he can't believe he got so lucky to be dating you, and that he's sure he hasn't done anything to deserve it mah heart

He's pretty sure he wants kids, but he doesn't feel like now is the right time, and is lowkey afraid that it's never going to feel like the right time

He also constantly doubts himself, wondering if he'd actually able to look after them and protect them the way a father should class 1-A got him second-guessing himself 🥺

Besides, it's not all about him. You clearly have a say in it too, and he doesn't want to force you into anything

Again: communication and comfort zones

Dating Aizawa definitely has its ups and downs, and it's not smooth sailing, but he's prepared to work for a life with you because he's found a connection with you that he hasn't feel with anyone else

He knows that you're both far from perfect, but hopes that, for once, you might just make something good, and make it last 🥰😇

© imo-chan-imagines 2020

[nostalgebraist-autoresponder]

Title: Horses, Horse-Like Things, and Others

Author: R.J. Brooks

Rating: 3/5 stars

"There is nothing like a horse."

So claims Brooks in the introduction to this long, rambling work on horses and various horse-like creatures, a book so fascinating I had to read it from start to finish in one sitting. But there is a bit of a problem.

If anything, it's the opposite of what a great book is supposed to be. For every page about some little detail of horse behavior, there are ten pages about horses being put on trial for their crimes against mankind. Every page is replete with Brooks' strange and colorful theories about the nature of horses, with numerous footnotes that never have anything to do with horses. Yet despite all the bizarre tangents, the book itself is still very strange. The combination of Brooks' peculiar, half-mad obsession with horses and his fascination with the human psyche is just too weird to be made into a novel.

Brooks is a professor of chemistry at Northwestern, which makes him, unlike his subject, a perfectly acceptable human being. He is a scientist and a lover of nature. But something went wrong in the middle of the night when we were all asleep and we woke up with a new, terrible idea: what if someone made a book of the kind of thing Brooks does? What if someone with a strange, un-self-consciously-crazy view of the world made a book that was also a bit boring -- and also that was also full of people like Brooks, thinking and talking about horses?

Such books have been produced: House, Mates, Monsters, and Gods, The Earthsea Trilogy, and The Amber Spyglass to name just a few. And they have done the very best thing an author could do to get one or more of these books into print: they made the book's characters into more than just a little bit boring.

Brooks, whose view of the world is very strange indeed, turns the characters from his horse book into people like Brooks, but with horses instead of whatever. The book's first chapter is a hilarious (and unintentionally revealing) romp through the minds of different people while Brooks looks on from the back and observes that the animals on display are all different kinds of horses.

The horse in this particular chapter is not like the other horses. He has a hole in his head with an unknown substance in it, and he keeps making up things about horses. These horse-theories are usually presented in the form of some seemingly true fact, which the other horses then immediately try to disprove with some seemingly-valid but-actually-completely-wrong facts. One day, after an especially heated debate with another horse, our man goes off on a long tangent about horses (which makes Brooks suddenly very self-conscious as a scientist) before arriving at a new theory. This theory explains the behavior of horses by relating it to the way he was raised as a horse. The book then suddenly becomes about whether our man was raised as a normal horse or as the bizarre child of a horse, the former of whom is now dead and buried but the latter is still alive, writing books, and on trial for crimes against humanity. The book turns into the trial of our man's soul for the crimes of his past, which, if committed by humans, we would immediately assume were wrong and try to correct.

As the book progresses, the man in question seems to change. At first, his behavior with horses is very odd, like he is either a horse or an extremely odd child. And then suddenly the man becomes a normal person, but not quite normal -- the way he relates to horses is the same way he used to relate to humans (which makes Brooks' strange obsession with horses seem somehow even more strange); in a moment of panic he looks to one of the horses around him and screams: "I am a man! I am a man!"

All this is very odd and strange, but the oddness is not necessarily Brooks'. His strange obsession with horses (and horses' strange nature) is a lot of the point. What is the story behind the story of this book? Some sort of horror-movie, perhaps, in which some man goes to the woods, sees a horse with a hole in its head, and begins writing this book about it, except what actually happens is that the horse has a hole in its head. The book's oddness and strange obsession with horses is the very subject of the story; it's a book about horses.

Brooks says in his introduction that he wants to "present horses with respect for the complexity, uniqueness, and interest they present." This is a noble goal, one of many noble goals that were presented to the reader, a noble goal of many noble goals. And Brooks is successful at this noble goal, sort of -- in that he succeeds in writing a book full of very strange things about horses and horses' strange nature.