#but it is whatever. this is life apparently.

[radical-rigatoni1]

honestly i was too scared to think because some point in my life early on i made up that when people die they can hear and see EVERYTHING so when i thought something related to a dead person i would immediately make it positive. Like i never watched too much marvel but the years after stan lee died i thought he'd be calling me a fake fan or whatever. Don't ask me i don't know, she doesn't know, get an 8 ball or something. Finally got into it, love u daredevil. also that apparently some guy's put their really sick turtles ocs into ur universe. (tmnt ref nudge nudge)

anyone else get embarrassed when their self indulgent daydreams are like too self-indulgent? like oh jeez the telepaths are going to judge me

[burreauxoxo]

make some noise - joe burrow

husband!joe x fem!reader

summary: you had beat childhood cancer but just as you began to live your adult life worry-free, you get the news that a different type of cancer was found. all of the memories you had of the hundreds of hospital visits as a kid came flooding back. you knew what you wanted and even if it scared joe, there was no going the other direction.

warnings: mentions of cancer, nausea/vomiting, hospitalization, swearing, blood

word count: 7.7k

note: this was kind of hard to write and just continued to make me sad but i still managed to finish it. hope you like it!

it all started during the last game of the regular season. the cincinnati bengals were looking at a promising playoff stretch and you knew you wanted to be next to joe throughout it all.

though lately, you haven’t been feeling the best. bouts of nausea, persistent fatigue, the urge to run to the bathroom to empty the contents in your stomach. your friend had suggested that maybe you were pregnant but you knew this was something different.

the sickness that wasn’t just in the morning and the blood that came up last night told you otherwise. you wished this was a pregnancy, but it was a lot more complicated than that.

you made it through the game without too much to worry about. some heartburn but nothing to complain about. eventually, you met joe who was quick to engulf you into a hug.

“i’m so proud of you.” you say into his chest and shoulder area. “thank you.” he replies and kisses the top of your head.

the two of you hung around for a bit, chatting with a few others before you called it a night. the drive home was pretty quiet, your nauseous feeling keeping you from sparking conversation. on multiple occasions, you wanted to ask joe to pull over but you managed to keep it down until you got home.

hurrying into the house, joe grew worried at your sudden fast actions. you flew up the stairs and into the bathroom, where you planted yourself in front of the toilet. no more than a few second pass before joe is right behind you, holding your hair back and rubbing gentle circles to ease your tense feeling.

he takes a peek at your face to make sure you still had your color. but that’s when he notices something alarming.

“baby, there’s blood in there.” he says. worry fills his voice as he begins to pull his phone out. “i’m calling nine-one-one.”

“no! no, i’m fine.” you push before he makes anymore moves.

“no, you’re puking blood! that’s not fine.” joe says and reaches into one of the bathroom organizers for a wash cloth. running it under cold water, wringing it out, then handing it to you was all he could do.

he wanted to contact someone. an advice nurse, your primary doctor, maybe even the team doctor; just to see what he should do. while running downstairs to get you some cold water, he thought about it.

the persistent nausea. the vomiting. the loss of appetite. all of the naps you take. your comment that you were having a hard time swallowing.

it made him dizzy.

he recalls all of the times you reflected on being cancer-free from the battle you faced as a little girl. but could it happen again? could it really be happening now?

“baby, i think you should meet with your doctor as soon as possible.” joe says and hands you the glass of water. he strokes the top of your head, causing a wave of relaxation to flood your body.

“i already have an appointment. tomorrow at noon.” you say and his eyes widen.

“what do you think is going on?” joe asks curiously.

“i don’t really want to talk about it.” was all you could say and all he needed to hear.

the emotions soon became apparent and strong. his wife might have cancer? it took everything inside of joe not to fall back onto someone and start panicking. he knew that was the last thing you wanted and he would do whatever it took to make sure you were taken care of.

~

“well mrs. burrow, your results weren’t completely clear. after i first seen you a week or so back, i took all of your symptoms into consideration and after confirming through many tests and scans, i regret to inform you that we found that cancer is present.”

your head hung low as the specialist spoke. joe was zoned in on every word she spoke and was ready to jump right into any treatments or trials that they offered if it meant he would get you back to feeling yourself.

“with the type of cancer that she has, is there a good possibility of her coming out of it? or is this something we need to take one day at a time?” joe asks.

“in her situation, with the type of cancer, the numbers can vary. if a patient is diagnosed right off the bat with cancer just in the stomach, there is a seventy-five percent survival rate. in her case, it has already made it to her surrounding lymph nodes.”

“and that would bring the percentage up or down? and by how much?” joe continues to ask.

“unfortunately, it brings it down to thirty-five. now, we have a fairly new trial and it calls for newly diagnosed patients which is your first step for qualifications. if you are open to giving it a go, i can transfer you to their care to assist in giving you the care you need.”

“um, what would happen if i were to just… let it take its course?” you ask and joe turns in your direction.

“it all depends on your own experience with how you handle things. some patients decide that their body isn’t going to last long on all of the medications and would rather try at-home remedies instead to start. some even take it to the last second and they pass at home. both options are individually painful… choose what is best for you.” the doctor smiles lightly.

“what is the expectancy between the two?” you ask.

“patients left untreated can go roughly a year, with treatments such as chemo or radiation, they may just come out with the thirty-five percent or in other cases, roughly ten months would result in other outcomes.”

“can i have some time to think?” you ask.

“absolutely. shoot me a message through the online portal to make your follow up appointment. please take care and know that no matter what happens, everything will be just fine.” she says and pulls you in for a hug.

you felt drained. you wanted to go home, lay in yours and joe’s shared bed, and take a nice long nap in his arms.

“tell me you’re going to give the trials a shot?” joe asks as soon as you get into the car.

“joey, chemo and radiation gave me so much trauma as a child, i can’t do it again.” you admit.

“but you have to choose to live, you are going to make it, i know you will.” joe says, growing emotional.

“i would rather have almost a year lived as free as possible with you, than miserable treatments fulfilling our free time and taking all the life out of me.” you say, taking joe’s hand into yours.

you could tell joe was trying to process your words. his eyes wandered around your facial features. from the eyes he fell in love with, to the nose he runs his finger down when you are having a hard time sleeping, to the lips he loves to kiss.

“it just wouldn’t be worth it.” you add.

“okay. if that’s what you want then… i’ll be right by your side.” joe agrees and gives you a sad smile.

it wasn’t what you wanted though. you really wanted to live worry-free. you wanted to be by your husbands side until the two of you got old. you wanted to enjoy your marriage, let alone enjoy the honeymoon phase you guys were barely able to get through.

you wanted to have kids with joe, watch him sprout his first permanent grey hair, watch your children graduate from school, watch wrinkles appear on each others face, enter retirement and travel the world.

but your time was cut short. every touch of your hands, every kiss, every word spoken… was to be treasured.

you didn’t want this whole situation tearing joe down at all, though you knew telling him not to worry was easier said than done.

he hated having to leave you during his first away game after the news. it was a couple months after deciding home remedies and no hospital stays was your treatment plan.

with a plain diet and no colored liquids such as sodas and unnatural juices, your trips to the bathroom slowed down and you were able to sit on the couch and enjoy a snack as you watched your husband play the game; even though it was just through the tv.

when it came to joe coming home, he took the quickest flight out of the city he was in and made no extra stops until he seen you. once he knew you didn’t need anything from the outside world, he was planted by your side.

you didn’t let him slow down practice wise though. as time went by, he dreaded his alarm in the morning but you graced him with some words of encouragement when you also were awoken by the blaring sound. you woke him right up and put him in a good mood.

he would gather his equipment and make it to the facility, not paying attention to the time because doing that always makes time go slower.

when the training staff would announce that it was time to wrap it up, joe got that spurt of energy. the same spurt of energy kids feel when they realize the school day is almost over.

joe would share some meaningful conversations on the way back to change and grab his stuff. ja’marr was always telling him to make sure you’re resting and doing the right things to prolong your time. he would often come visit to tell you the same thing anyways.

other guys on the team felt for you and joe, but ja’marr was at a different level. he was the mutual friend that got you two together in college. he knows you both as individuals just as much as he knows you two as a couple.

it hurt him just as much when he heard the news. this was like losing a family member with the length and level of connection you two had built over the years. he wanted to visit with you more often but he knew that during the season, there wasn’t a lot of time anyways. so he left whatever time the team got, to joe.

~

it was now december and you had gotten your news in february. time was ticking faster than ever and your body was trying to tell you the same.

there was no more leaving the house unless it’s to a hospital; which was fairly often because your doctor was keeping track of your current state. there was no more over-exerting movements during the day. your pride and dignity was slowly slipping away.

you couldn’t stand to do the dishes anymore, you called for help in the shower, you can barely cook simple meals, and your emotions were higher than normal.

the media always labeled you as “the housewife every woman dreams to be.” at a point, it seemed a bit offensive to joe because he seen the comment as he only married you to have a woman at home. but in reality, that’s what you were.

you weren’t working at the time you guys got married. so you were the one to have the meals prepped and plated at the time of each meal, you did laundry most of the time, you cleaned, and you took care of your husband.

the difference was the fact that joe never got upset when he came home and it didn't smell like something was cooking or the sound of something clinking in the dryer wasn't occupying the silence. he wanted you to have nights off more often; more than you liked at least. he always said that a night off meant more time for the two of you but you didn't surrender yourself to the couch before the dishes from the day before were clean and joe had all the laundry he needed done was complete.

but you didn’t see it as a bad thing if joe didn’t see it as one. you were happy and proud to take care of joe. if he got a cold from playing in the cold weather, you’d nurse him back to good health by the time he needed to be at practice next. you made sure the stains were out of his clothes and his dietary guidelines were met.

but the illness was coming between you and your duties. you knew it as soon as joe offered to hire a personal chef for the two of you.

“it’s not a bad thing, baby! you need to eat substantial food too!”

when he came home from playing that night and you had dinner made and plated but you were passed out on the couch, he regretted that comment. because now you were going to push yourself too hard. that was the last thing he wanted you to do.

except, you don’t even have the energy to push yourself now.

every morning, joe takes your blankets and pillows and helps you down to the couch in the living room. due to your lack of hospital treatment, you weren't given the option to have a hospital bed to set up in the living room. the couch was just as comfortable though, if not better.

joe offered to buy a bed frame and to get you any type of mattress you wanted, but you declared that it would be a waste as you weren’t going to be here much longer to use it. joe shook his head at your statement.

“even if you get a weeks use out of it, it’s worth it. not even a week, a day! as long as you’re comfortable.”

you protested but when you came downstairs after a nap to see a bed frame with wheels under it and a mattress that looked like a cloud on top, you knew he meant every word.

he seen you were in pain going up and down the stairs so he knew this was going to help more than you thought.

the mattress had the ability to move up and down so you could sit up without having to over-exert yourself. the occasional adjust felt great on your back or even your neck.

~

it’s january. the bengals and chiefs have come to a match-up, yet again, to see who will make it to the super bowl. joe was on edge for the duration of the game and he didn’t want any messing around until they secured their spot.

right now, the bengals are up by thirteen and there is four minutes left of the game. it’s now or never that their defense holds their spot on the field to prevent any other plays going through.

you were currently at home, your best friend sitting by your side. joe tucked you into your bed out in the living room this morning before he left for the game. they were the number one seed so throughout the playoffs, they scored home field advantage.

your best friend sat next to you on one of the kitchen stools, with a notebook and pen in her hand. you asked if she’d be able to write whatever you had said down for some letters. you were too weak to write a full sentence and this was such a big help.

tears were shed, breaks were taken. but you had gotten letters for your family, ja’marr, and joe done. you were able to tell your best friend every word you wanted to tell her in person. again, tears were shed and she even climbed into bed with you until you fell asleep and she wanted to give you more room.

while you napped, she folded each letter and put them in individually labeled envelopes for each person. you instructed her to put them in your nightstand; which was exactly what she did.

to have more time pass, she watched the game that was playing on the tv. there was one minute left and the bengals had the ball. the chiefs were out of timeouts and since there was less than a minute and a half left, this called for the victory formation.

both teams take their place and joe lines up with the center. give or take a few seconds, the center snaps the ball back, giving it to joe, who drops to his knee and the team floods him with excitement.

due to his extreme accuracy and only four incomplete passes throughout this game, he was to be celebrated. joe stayed on his knee for some time. his teammates stood over him, some even kneeling down around him. joe had the ball in his hands as he tilted his head down to rest his forehead on it. only he knows what was said in that moment.

after getting up, he shares a brief moment with patrick mahomes, something you encouraged him to do.

“hey honey… your husband is going to the super bowl.” your best friend whispers to you as you start to stir.

“hmm?” you manage to say.

“joe… they just won the game. the bengals are going to the super bowl.” she whispers again.

“you’re kidding.” you wake up and tilt your head enough to see the tv screen.

lo and behold, the team is gathered together and confetti is falling.

“the cincinnati bengals are headed to the super bowl! they will take on the san francisco forty-niners, which hasn't been seen in a super bowl since nineteen eighty-nine!” the announcer says.

you look away with a tear in your eye. this was the game you wanted to see and joe has been waiting for. you began to hope you had enough strength to make it. but with it being multiple weeks away, you weren’t sure.

~

joe quietly made his way into the house, seeing your best friend sitting on the couch watching highlights from the game as you sat up and drank a smoothie.

“hi, my love. it’s so good to see you awake.” joe quietly says as he leans over to give you a kiss.

“why aren’t you out celebrating?” you ask.

“i am. i’m celebrating with you guys. ja’marr will be over later to come check on you.” joe says and runs his hand over your head in a soothing manor.

“i’m so proud of you.” you say as you reach to grab joe’s hand. he gives your hand a light squeeze as he brings it to his lips.

the night was spent quietly recapping joe’s thoughts throughout the game. ja’marr did make it over and he came bearing frozen yogurt for everyone that was there. they decided that staying up an hour or two later than normal to watch a movie and eat frozen yogurt with you was a form of celebration.

the celebration turned into a sleep over. joe climbed into your bed with you as ja’marr and your best friend took the couch. it was big enough for the both of them to lay out completely so they had no problem.

there was one time you had to get up and do your thing in the bathroom. the rush of sugar probably didn’t do you any good.

you being out of your spot woke joe up. he stirred for a second before hearing your slow footsteps coming closer.

“am i being a bed-hog?” he jokes.

“always.” you joke and you both quietly laugh.

you crawl back into the bed, curling up as close as possible to joe. you tucked your arms close to your chest, scooting even closer to him. he drapes his arm over you as he turns to his side.

he runs his fingers up and down your back after lifting your t-shirt some. he felt you shiver, a small smile creeping up on his face.

“feelin’ okay?” he asks.

“yeah… okay as okay gets.” you whisper.

“everything is going to be just fine. i promise.” he whispers into your forehead before leaving a kiss on it.

“joe… i’m scared.” you quietly admit and he stops what he’s doing.

he tilts his head down so he can look at your face.

“why are you scared, baby?” he asks.

he knew why but he wanted to hear your reasoning. he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t scared out of his mind. aside from silly flings with other girls, he’s never known anyone else but you. it’s always been you.

“i don’t want to leave this life behind.” you say and he starts to mess with your hair.

“i don’t want to say goodbye to you guys. i want to live every day with you and all of our friends. i want to wake up to you every day, i want to make more memories with you.” you continue on.

“you are going to live every day doing just that. we are going to be right by your side every chance we get and we are going to make many more memories, i promise.”

“yeah but… it’s creeping up on a year. i might not even see next week. i want to see you win the super bowl. i want to see everything.”

“you’re going to. we are going to go out there and win that game. we won’t be too far away, new york is right there.”

“i wanted to be there with you.” you admit.

“sometimes life happens my love. i already told myself that this game is for you.” he admits.

“i don’t want anything to be for me. i don’t want to die, i shouldn’t be dying right now.” you say and start to cry.

“shh, everything is going to be okay.” joe whispers.

he was able to calm you down until you fell asleep.

it was early in the morning when ja’marr shook joe awake to signal you needing help in the bathroom. without a question, joe flies out of bed.

before he turned down the hallway and into the bathroom, he had gotten you a glass of ice water.

“joey… it’s all blood.” you cry.

“oh, baby.” he says and leans down to pull your hair back. he rubs soothing circles into your back as you cried.

ja’marr comes to the doorway to make sure everything was okay.

“shit man, i think she should go in. that’s not a good sign to be throwing up all that blood.” ja’marr says and you stay quiet.

“you want to go in?” joe asks, still rubbing your back.

“i guess.” you say, defeated.

in your head, you knew this was probably the last time you’d be home while you’re coherent enough. you gave the living room one more look before sitting down.

while joe grabbed a few things, you slowly made your way up the stairs with some help from ja'marr. you stood in the door way to your bedroom and gave it all one more look. you walked over and felt your original bed sheets. you looked in the closet and seen all the clothes you had made so many memories in, including your wedding dress. you ran your hand down the white fabric and sighed. you looked out the sliding door to the balcony and took in the view; just one more time.

eventually, ja'marr helps you back downstairs.

“should we stay here or head out? we can do some work around here.” ja’marr asks.

“you guys can go. i’ll keep in touch with what’s going on.” joe suggests. deep down, ja’marr knew what he was going to do.

joe took the quickest route to the hospital but still drove at a safe speed. when it came to checking you in, he wheeled you inside in a wheelchair and explained your situation so you didn’t have to waste your energy talking to the nurse.

they brought you back immediately for not only comfort but privacy reasons.

“due to how busy we are, we might need a minute to gather things and keep the other patients rolling. we just wanted to get you comfortable in the meantime in case the wait is longer than you can handle out there.”

both of you appreciated the nurses kindness and made sure to express it verbally.

while you two got settled into the room, ja’marr and your friend stayed behind at the house, getting some work done.

there were some stacks of dishes that needed to be done, as well as laundry. your best friend changed the sheets on your bed in the living room. ja’marr vacuumed and wiped some items down for bacteria clearance.

time went by slowly but it was still keeping you here. any second you were gifted, the people around you thanked any lord above for it.

~

you were declining at a fast rate. joe has expressed that he wasn’t sure if he was able to go through this alone. the blood never stopped as the pain was only worsening. the nurses distributed some strong pain medication that had you knocked out. you had been transferred to the normal side of the hospital rather than staying in the emergency department.

in the mean time, joe had called your family and his both. he was a mess but he knew what needed to be done. the box of tissues that sat next to his wildly uncomfortable hospital chair, slowly but surely dwindling. the thought of the chair being uncomfortable was a quick and useless thought. he knew you were in more discomfort than he was and you were in the bed. soon enough, the chair was comfortable; just right as long as he was next to you.

one of the nurses came in and wanted to check on you. she called for some assistance when she realized that the pain medicine was only knocking you down more.

“we are going to slow down on the morphine as her heart isn’t tolerating it the way we wanted it to.” the nurse says.

“she won’t be in more pain, will she?” joe asks.

“at this point, i don’t think so. if she is, i don’t think she will be able to express it.”

“is… is she going to die? like… soon?” joe manages to ask.

“based on her current state of health, i wouldn’t say soon as in within the hour but maybe a day or two. i am so sorry, mr. burrow.” the nurse says, empathetic smile rising to her face.

it was time to crack down. joe never left your side, he called the people he knew you loved to come say their goodbyes. the bags under joe’s eyes only grew bigger as time went by.

it had been three days in the hospital and you had only woken up twice; once during the first night to roll over some and again when joe had told you that it was okay to let go.

he was running his fingers over your head and whispering beautiful words to your peaceful face. he had one of your hands in his other hand and he knew when your grip loosened with each squeeze, it was time to reassure you that everything was going to be okay.

“i’m going to win that game for you. ja’marr is going to give his speech you wanted him to do at your funeral. your family will be back as soon as they can be, they told you to hang on.” he whispered.

“you are the most beautiful woman i’ve ever laid my eyes on and i will never forget your illustrious and eternal soul.” he says,

the more words he spoke, the more the pain was evident. he was scared to do life alone. like he’s expressed, all he’s ever known was you. how could he do anything without you.

but reality really hit him when he was sitting out in the waiting room, trying to catch his breath with ja’marr by his side. his face was red and he had a few crumpled up tissues in his hand. ja'marr had been crying as well, dreading what the future was about to throw at them.

“she’s not going to make it to see us play… we just got married a year ago, how is that long enough? she deserves more time.” joe says, head in his hands.

he’s gotten maybe a couple hours of sleep in the last two days. the picture of the blood that made its appearance in any way it could, glued to the back of his eyelids in a way that won’t escape him. you were suffering and he couldn’t help you.

“mr. burrow, we did all we could.” a nurse says, turning the corner with a mask and gloves on.

joe shoots up to stand on his feet.

“what? i was just in there! not even five minutes ago.” joe says as he shoves his way through to your room.

there you were, still as still could be.

ja’marr stood next to joe as they both took in the heartbreaking sight. the blood pressure cuff was erroring out and the heart monitor was at a steady beep. your oxygen level was dropping to nothing and they both knew this was the last bit of life they would ever see in you.

“oh god.” joe says and turns around, huffing out a breath of air that he felt was trapped in his lungs.

this was it. this was the end of beginning.

~

the service and celebration of life were done. the cremation process had begun. ja’marr spoke in front of everyone at your service and joe hasn’t touched a single thing that belonged to you in the house. everything was going to stay the same unless a move was planned. all of your clothes, your decorations, your bedding; it was all staying in its given place.

he had your wedding ring planted in its box on his nightstand. but it was soon shoved in his bag that he was taking with him to new york for the super bowl. he searched in various places for a specific necklace you considered lucky but soon took off as soon as you received the cancer diagnosis. he looked in your jewelry box, he looked in the bathroom, the only place left to check was your nightstand.

in a hurry, he tugs the drawer open, moving a couple pieces of paper over to see what was under them. he found the necklace but what else he found, shocked him.

on top of the necklace, sat a few envelopes that were all addressed to different people. one to him, one to ja’marr, one to your family and a couple more for the other members of it that you had mentioned, one to the team as a whole. he knew he’d have to actually find their address and mail them or send them out to be delivered by your family members.

joe immediately sits on the edge of the bed and rips open his envelope.

“dear joe,

when life gives people twists and turns, they are usually the most unexpected events that they never thought would happen to them. no matter how bad my twists and turns were, i am so grateful to have had you waiting for me once the path straightened out.

though my last twist never came to an end, you held my hand when i felt like i was all alone to remind me that i never was.

i want to thank you for gifting me the most beautiful, peaceful yet eventful, exciting, and blissful years of my life. i wouldn’t have wanted to do these last few years with anyone else.

i am so sorry that i had to leave you behind so early. in a way, i am grateful i went first because there is no way i’d be able to do life without you. you were my rock and i look forward to being yours in spirit form.

just remember, i am no longer in pain. i am no longer wondering when it will all end.

the other day, you had just left for a game and the house was quiet. i thought of you as i climbed out of bed. i thought of how quiet it was as it rained and it was just me and my thoughts. it made me realize how you were going to be once my time comes and it made my heart hurt.

i don’t want you drowning in the silence to a point of no return. i want you to get out there and make some noise. find the noise if you need to. if it is silent in a moment where silence shouldn’t fill the atmosphere, i will come turn the tv on. i don’t want you in silence if it shouldn’t be silent. so don't be scared if you hear music start playing or the sudden sound of spongebob laughing... it is just me.

i could spend forever talking while this is being written but at the moment, you are playing for a spot in the super bowl. if you made it to the super bowl, i want you to play your heart out for not just me, but for everyone. i want you to win that game like it was your last and everything you’ve ever done comes down to it.

you’re a winner in my heart no matter the outcome. just know that i will always be proud of you for getting up and trying again. you’ve always been great at it.

i know our dreams were endless. i know our love would always be tested. i know our expectations for the future were bright. don’t let anything change it.

i want you to know that you need to live life to the fullest. do not let this or the past slow you down. i want you to sit back and realize that being here is a gift and as much as i know you do appreciate how your life has changed for the better… make it even better.

your worth is everything in my eyes and my heart… let that sink in. run with that thought and never look back. make mistakes. realize things aren’t going how they should. find something new you like. watch movies you thought you hated. talk to people you think look cool or redeem yourself to someone you messed up with. these things make you who you are but your mistakes do not define your worth. you are worth everything.

i want to say that i love you, i loved you, and i will never stop loving you.

thank you for being everything to me. you are the person that i was made to meet and i thank you for listening to ja’marr when he said you needed to meet me. you’ve always been a great listener.

i love you, joe. go out and live that special life of yours. go win that game! and never forget me, i will always be your biggest guardian angel.”

~

day of the super bowl

there was a time and a place to be nervous. to joe, this was the last place he should be nervous.

he carried every single word you spoke and every word of yours that he read and reminded himself that being nervous or stressed out was unacceptable.

joe carried a game face all day. ja’marr knew this was the last place he wanted to mess around in. they were playing a solid team in the super bowl who in the end, had a batter record against them.

joe spoke a very minimal amount of words and everyone took their sign to let it be just like that. if they wanted him at his peak performance ability, then they need to let it slide.

coach taylor got his two words in and that was all joe needed.

he ran out onto that field like he was the main character of a film that all of america was anticipating. the crowd cheered, people had signs, then there was the occasional ‘boooo’ from the other side. joe took all of it in, ready to play this game like it was his last.

each play, each drive, each complete pass, they all came from joe like it was nothing. with the halftime performance being a mere two minutes away, the forty-niners have only snagged three points while the bengals have seventeen.

they weren’t in the clear, the niners were known to come back in the second half. everyone seen what they did to the lions in the nfc championship that one year.

taking the field once more, joe has yet to release the tension in his body that kept him in his form. the release was far ahead of him as he was just as ready for the second half as he was the first.

he spoke words to you in his head. he held back the flood of emotions that threatened to spill at any given moment. ja’marr has said his share of support with very minimal response from joe, but he took no offense.

“burrow is at his peak with this game being played at an absolute high. his performance numbers for a post-season game have never been this high and we might be able to thank someone for this.

just a matter of weeks ago, burrow lost his wife. though they weren’t married for long, their relationship was lengthy and their time spent together, was spent with care.

since being in new york for this game, he opened a donation location for cancer research.

‘i won’t let my wife be defined by the battle she put up against cancer, she was much more than that. many others around me feel the same towards the evil illness and that is why it is one of my missions to assist in finding a cure. all donations made will be matched by me and will be given to the cancer research foundation as well as my personal donation to the grief center which helps families cope with loss. nobody’s pain deserves to be ignored, no matter the source.’

if anyone is interested in donating, the link will be available here on your very screen.”

the viewers heard just a portion of his mission and the story behind it from the announcers.

there was a commercial dedicated to donating and everything. joe was serious, just as serious as cancer was. he was done seeing it appear stronger than the innocent people who are suffering under its power and succumbing to their pain. though his wife wasn’t the only one to fight, he wanted it to end. the pain he felt did not deserve to be shared.

these very thoughts and the plans he represented kept him standing until the end of the game. until he sunk to his knees in an emotional release when it is declared that the bengals have won their first super bowl in nfl history.

ja’marr is the first one to land next to joe. they both release their emotions in an emotional hug with each other as they sat on the field.

“this was all she wanted for us.. and you both made it happen.” ja’marr says, hands gripping his shoulder pads.

“holy shit man, i can’t even imagine how you’re feeling right now.” tee says as he squats down to his teammates level.

“you don’t even want to know.” joe says with a laugh.

soon enough, they stand up and watch coach taylor get absolutely demolished by a wave of blue gatorade. super bowl champion shirts were being thrown around the team as they were gradually replacing the view of their jerseys. it was a surprise when joe looks over at trey to see he was holding one specifically for joe.

joe unravels his shirt to see that the sleeve has a periwinkle ribbon woven into it. this made his heart hurt and long for a hug just like all the other guys were receiving.

“had this specially made for you. i know i’ve been pretty distant in this whole process of you grieving but know that you don’t go unnoticed.” trey says, pulling joe in for a hug.

joe sniffles yet again, waiting for the sadness to end and for the adrenaline to take over. he knew you wouldn’t want him to be this sad on a day like this. he toughens up, slips the shirt on, and smiles.

“there it is! there’s that smile!” trey says and the two of them laugh.

eventually, joe is pulled over by someone who is wanting to interview him. he didn’t feel like he was too full of words but he knew he needed to try.

“joe burrow… what a game you had today! i want to start with saying i am personally so sorry for your loss, she was a phenomenal person and you are just as phenomenal for honoring her the way that you do.”

“trust me, i am nothing compared to how great she was.” joe squeezes out.

“you officially broke tom brady’s record that he made in oh-five. you finished with a passer rating of one hundred and one point five. you threw for four hundred and twenty-seven yards with four touchdowns and only one interception. nobody has seen anyone play that well since the previous record made by brady. how does that feel?”

“well, it’s feels surreal. i never would have guessed that would be the outcome coming into this season or this game alone. i can thank my teammates for setting me up for such success.” joe jokes.

“we see this personalized shirt you have gifted to you by trey hendrickson. we want to give you your time to speak on the matter, are there any words?”

“of course. i want to thank trey personally for this, this will be treasured. the ribbon here holds as a symbol for stomach cancer awareness. if anyone is unaware, i recently lost my wife to stomach cancer and without her, i wouldn’t be here today.”

joe continues to explain his reasoning behind opening up a location for donations. but it was time to find out the super bowl mvp.

joe relished in the moment for a little while longer. he stood there all alone with confetti still falling, watching each piece claim its own path in the air and landing in its own place.

with the team starting to load onto the stage that was quickly built for the occasion, joe snapped out of it.

it was a given who would receive super bowl mvp but the moment was more special than someone would imagine.

“i would love to accept this award but i would also love to share it with everyone on the team. everyone who has a number on their jersey, everyone who coached us and coordinated us here, down to the ones who supply our water… this is all for you. my hard work couldn’t be done without you.” joe says as he looks around and the crowd cheers for his every word.

as coach taylor takes the microphone, joe looks around. he reads a few signs, pointing to a few. one read, “when you have nobody else to look through in a crowd, look up to see the crowd has been extended!”

the rest of the celebration on the field felt silent. everything around joe seemed quiet as he was in his own little world, talking to you in his head.

“i did it. all for you.”

“everything i do is for you.”

“we won, we finally won.”

the words shared with you never came to an end.

even on the ride home.

he held onto the idea of coming home to see you. he held onto the dream he had the other night of going on a victory vacation with you. he held onto a lot.

but what he didn’t hold onto was the crowd at the after party. his after party was waiting at home.

ja’marr said not to get too sad and that he’d be over after a bit. joe was never one for crowds and especially when he’s full of emotions, the only thing to cure him was his home.

“honey, i’m home.” joe announces.

when he said nothing was going to change, he meant it. he switched the lights on, he dropped his bag at the end of the stairs, and he made it up to the bedroom.

when he is met with an empty room, he realized just how sad this was. that was when it hit him.

“find the noise if you need to.”

he pulls out his phone and asks ja’marr what his set plans were for the night. he texted back that he was stopping in at a party one of their teammates were throwing at a club and that he’d be over after.

“i actually want to go out tonight.” joe texts ja’marr.

“serious? i’ll send you my location and i’ll wait for when you get here.”

and that was it.

joe knew what he was previously going to do. he was going to drown in the silence and fall into a depressed slump. but once again, you wouldn’t want that. so, he found the noise. now he’s going to make some of his own.

just as you wanted him to.

fyi… i cried a time or two while writing this because battling cancer is real and i truly wish it wasn’t. any medical condition has its pain and all of them are valid but truly… f*ck cancer.

[suzukiblu]

Day seventeen of “Kon meets pink kryptonite and decides to fuck Tim and his boyfriend about it” behind the cut. (( chrono || non-chrono ))

“Fuck yeah,” Kon says with a grin as he accepts the source of all delicious chocolatey-sugary caramel smells in the room. “Thanks, man.” 

“My bad for not paying enough attention to your specs, just picked myself a whole bouquet of whoopsy-daisies there,” Bernard says, and Tim laughs again, and Kon buries a snigger of his own in the hot chocolate and narrowly avoids getting caramel on his nose. He still feels a little–disconnected, maybe, like his TTK’s maybe a little off-center or something. Like his equilibrium or his sense of balance or whatever isn’t exactly fitting right, maybe. 

Bernard is still just fucking funny, though. 

Kon takes a swallow of the hot chocolate, since again he does not need to worry about burning his tastebuds off or even a light scalding, and–oh Jesus, the caramel is actually in the hot chocolate, isn’t it. Jesus. 

Ma is never gonna forgive him for the amount of recipes he is apparently gonna be asking Tim’s boyfriend for, yeah. 

“Actually maybe I am the marrying kind,” he mutters under his breath, then takes a long sip of hot chocolate. Jesus. Just–Jeeeeesus. “What the fuck does Gotham put in the hot chocolate?” 

“Well, this time I did cocoa powder, milk, powdered sugar, and caramel sauce,” Bernard says. Kon stops mid-sip just to stare blankly at him. “But like, Batburger for example has a recipe that’s a bit more questionable and has occasionally been compromised by Condiment King, so that’s a whole other thing.” 

“Tim,” Kon says, turning his head just enough to eye Tim instead, because he really just needs a minute here. Like, just for his stupid weird brain’s sake, if nothing else. “Where the fuck did you find this dude and what the fuck did you do to earn him? Like, karmically-speaking or whatever. I just need to know what’s better than literally fucking dying to save the world, because I am not pulling chicks who make hot chocolate from fucking scratch. I didn’t know you fucking could make hot chocolate from scratch.” 

“I mean, it’s just better that way, y’know?” Bernard says with a shrug. “Though in retrospect I could’ve just made hot caramel milk, I dunno if that’d be your thing though.” 

Kon is possibly eyeing Tim accusingly now. Tim grins slyly at him in return and picks up his latte to blow gently on it. Bernard literally drew a heart in the foam, because Tim’s a terrible person who stole all the good karma in the world, apparently. Though seriously, Kon doesn’t even know how the dude made a latte, Tim doesn’t even have an espresso machine or whatever. Like, the limited counter space thing was not an exaggeration in any way, shape, or form. 

Tim is literally terrible, yeah, Kon decides. Absolute worst best friend a guy could have. 

Like, aside from the part where he’s saved his life a few thousand times and also just fucked him so good that he low-key had a nervous breakdown about it, anyway. The dick really is just that good, apparently. 

Kon might actually sulk a little when Clark locks up the pink K. Like hello, no one else is using it for anything; why can’t he just keep it? 

“So like do you have a sister? Maybe a super-close cousin or something?” he asks Bernard, giving him a speculative look. 

“Only child, and all my cousins are like fifteen years older than us and either in jail or married with kids,” Bernard replies with a laugh. 

“So what I’m hearing is conjugal visits and MILFs,” Kon says reasonably, flashing him a sharp grin before taking another sip of really fucking good hot chocolate, and Bernard laughs again. “More importantly, do any of them come in ‘cute blonde who knows how to cook’ too?” 

“I’ll tell you when you’re straight again and can properly appreciate them,” Bernard says, still snickering. “No offense to the Dowd family line or anything, just none of us are Starfire-level here. Eh, well, maybe Cousin Nina is bridging the gap a little, but that’s about it.” 

“Fair,” Kon allows, then takes another drink. He feels like there's something he should be thinking of, but he can’t quite–

“‘Nina’?” Tim repeats, tilting his head slowly to one side. “Uh . . . maternal or paternal cousin, Bernard?” 

“Paternal,” Bernard says. “Why?” 

“Bernard,” Tim says. “Did we get your cousin arrested?”

[dollzites]

— far from the right time

( bf!jiyong x reader ) cw ; angst, grief, pain, foul language, violence, unsure thoughts and feelings

ꨄ︎ myeong’s note: hi guys! good to be back & I promise I’m getting to requests but I thought I could stop that for that a few and surprise everyone with something new and fresh! hope you can enjoy x

your heart pounds like a drum in your chest, fast and hot in anticipation of.. the words of the man who stood in front of you—calm, collected, and still. what the hell? how could he be so calm in a situation like this? when you were completely falling apart for him to witness.

past tense jiyong was the perfect boyfriend. he had been your first crush, love, and boyfriend. the world seemed like the best place with him by your side as if nothing could ever go wrong. jiyong was a kind and gentle man that never meant harm and he was there to give you everything you’ve ever dreamed of. was this real? it felt real. it was real. for just a few years until.. things started to slowly crumble around you. this perfect world that had been created was slowly crumbling and when you lunged forward to grasp it with all of your might—you weren’t able to do so. watching as the seconds, minutes, hours, days, weeks, months, and years with jiyong slowly turned into nostalgic memories.

jiyong became distant and at first it was brushed off but when it started happening frequently to the point of rarely hearing from him.. something was wrong. a quick text would be ignored or he would send such a short reply back just letting you know he was still alive basically and calls weren’t answered. if they were? short and to the point nothing more but nothing less. what was happening? was he.. cheating? no way he would do such a thing, not jiyong. when your poor heart grew tired of this nonsense you packed a few of your belongings that were at his home and stayed with your best friend for a while. he wouldn’t reach out to you nor your friend to see where you disappeared too.

“why would you let this happen?”

how could your only best friend make it seem like your fault? what did you ever do to deserve such treatment? after a few bitter words said to each other you went to the spare room slamming the door shut. back hitting the wall and sliding down while letting out a few sobs that had been desperate to escape. how did your perfect world crumble this way and why did it happen?

jiyong had finally agreed to meet with you at the park that he always brought you too on dates. maybe being there—such a special and intimate place would help the both of you out. wrong. you stared at him in disbelief unable to comprehend what he was saying to you. he wore his usual outfits that made him pop out in the crowd, blue? minty? whatever color hair that was.. made him look even more handsome. how was that possible? his eyes never met yours and he picked at the chipping paint on his nails. you didn’t dare to step any closer to him not at such a time like this.

“I’m not in love with you anymore.”

that sentence made you feel faint. why did it sound so cruel? so dramatic? after he promised to be with you for the rest of your life. the promise ring on your finger felt more taboo than anything at this point and once you reached for it he made eye contact with you, seeing the hurt, the pain, the.. complete loss of life you once had in you. the ring hit the ground with a very faint thud and you finally looked up at him. his eyes weren’t anything like yours filled with tears. he had a blank unreadable expression and it took everything in you not to lunge at him and fight. fight the broken heart you were filling in this moment.

“this is unfair!” the park was empty. most kept to themselves anyway so who would butt into the apparent fight that was happening. your hands pushed his chest as hard as you could and he allowed you to do so. he didn’t say a word and kept his head low.

“how could you do such a thing to me! after everything I’ve done for you and—and I’ve done for your family you turn around and fuck me over?! you told me lie after lie! it’s so unfair jiyong so unfair..”

screaming, pushing, and even punching his chest wasn’t doing anything to him. he wouldn’t say a word to you and it broke your heart even more. how could you love a man so much and not even know he was falling out of love with you? how could this happen! how could.. you let this happen? the words of your best friend stung worse than a bee.

“fuck you kwon jiyong.”

is all you could say to him before you watched him slowly back away from you and the spot he was standing in. how could he leave you in such a terrible situation? falling to your knees—you gripped a handful of grass and pulled it from the ground throwing it towards the spot he once stood in. what you didn’t know is that was the last time you’d ever see him again.

[andtheirmoonlight]

I'm sorry you had to see this ^ OP.

And this ⤵ too lol

A bit of an unhinged rant. Which I'll probably regret as it's 6:40 and I am angry and barely coherent and if I could hug my SO to calm down and stfu, I would, but the poor sod is asleep and is a light sleeper and has a shitty day ahead. well, no one reads this tucked-away secondary blog so I'll just allow myself to rant away.......

I can’t express just how much I hate this ‘no longer belongs to you once you share/show it to the world’ crap. Ever since I had learned English to a sufficient level and heard and understood this phrase for the first time, I started hating it with red-hot rage.

The second worst part about this particular iteration of the statement is ‘everyone knows’. Do they? (no) They just parrot this dumbassery without giving the meaning any actual weighed thought. Well, there are plenty of books written on how propaganda functions...

The number one worst part about this statement in general IMO: it being yet another reminder of how capitalism deforms and alienates art and its purpose, and how and WHY capitalism always aims to separate the art from the artist. As if there weren't enough reminders lately.

Any variation of the statement ‘once the creator shares a thing (read: is done assembling a thing and watches it slide away on the conveyor of a factory owned by someone else), the thing no longer belongs to the person who created it’ is a MIND-BOGGLING and terrifying — once you actually think about it — falsehood that has sprouted from an evil and destructive intent. Because capitalism IS evil and destructive to everything it touches. Duh doy.

Yes, this falsehood has acquired an (idiotic) life of its own with many (mis)interpretations, one of which now apparently is ‘if the creator is a bAD pErSon, I have the rights to their stuff, regardless of what kind of a person I am, because the creator’s real crime is that they got caught’, and the unsurprising aspect is that the other (mis)interpretations, although sometimes sounding and presented as metaphorically poetic, are also informed by capitalism, but I don't wanna go there rn or I'll start screaming out loud. Like, in this case, you can't make a candy bar out of crap no matter how you shape this crap.

At its core the meaning is quite simple and exists for only one purpose. This statement has been intentionally enforced by capitalist moneybags for decades in order to further commodify and dehumanize the creators and craftsmen and workers producing anything via physical or intellectual labor. In order to enable the do-nothing contribute-nothing consumer more efficiently. In order to widen the divide between humans, both in class and on an elementary emotional and societal level. Just to then line their own pockets.

After all, it’s much easier to forget about a living breathing feeling human behind a ‘Product’ if you are told, again and again and again, that the human no longer matters nor holds any ownership nor feels any emotions, pain included. ‘Relax and say and do whatever, and gorge until you burst (while we exploit you)!’ There, the link is broken. Dehumanize away.

‘Workers don't have feelings or rights! Do with this ready-assembled and detached product what you will! Do not think of where it came from! You paid money! You are within your rights! Paying money is the ultimate power! Or your attention, which is now also money [as we have conquered and plundered every shred of colored-people land and now need to colonize other places in order to continue the expansion, and those places are Online and also Your Brain]! The consumer is the only one who matters! It’s all been taken care of! We have devalued the creatives so hard that they will continue catering to you even if you behave like an abuser who threatens to withhold affection when not pleased properly! By the way, do behave like an abuser and be rewarded!’

... 🤦🏻‍♀️

Incidentally, so many people applying this mindset/behavior in communal creative spaces is why fandoms will never be the same. Why, ultimately, fandoms are fucked. But that doesn't matter, right? Fandoms and fanfiction are silly, right? And cannot be used as a good localized example of how capitalism takes over communal spaces, right...? And besi-ides, everything else is also fucked. /s

Consumer cUltURe must die in a fire. Because if it doesn't, Earth will die in a fire.

On a related note, I always like to ask of a person who vomits out this vile falsehood without thought: do you like Spirited Away?

It is such a lovely movie, and I have yet to meet anyone who did not enjoy Spirited Away. Although I’m not sure if many are aware of what its auteur was critiquing. 

I always ask: do you remember the catalyst for the plot i.e. what happened at the start of the movie to the people who consumed something that didn’t belong to them and was not put out for them, as they believed they’re within their rights to consume, that the food did in fact belong to them specifically because it was ready to eat and out in the open, and because they had money at hand, and they, having all but forgotten their ancestry and high-context culture, mindlessly believed money to be the ultimate protection and the ultimate power…? 

🐷🐷

"bro chill, everyone knows that once you put art out into the world it no longer belongs to you"

^ actual comment left to me because I said making fun of a fanfiction in front of the whole ass internet is a shitty thing to do

if you exhibit or defend behavior like that, I pray to the gods of fanfiction both old and new that you toil uselessly in the filters of AO3 and yet never see fruitage for your labors

may your beloved trope fields be barren and your OTP thirst never again quenched, may the creeping vines of squicks and NOTPs overtake that land which you call your own, because this is what you deserve

[beforetimes]

found a fic idea i planned a few months ago in my gdrive, so i figured i'd share it here!

everything starts with fire. a fire that rages and takes all of cang qiong down with it. flames that lick at every peak, irrespective of whatever martial prowess their lords might have. liu qingge coughs through the smoke, unwillingly pulled away from the worst of it. he catches sight of his sister—just a brief glance, but enough for him to fight against getting pulled away. then; everything goes black.

liu qingge wakes up much later, the concept of cang qiong mountain not even a breath in his mind. gone from his memory, all he remembers quite clearly is his name and the fact that he's missing someone. he's not quite sure who. he has a sword he remembers to weild with the help of muscle memory, and sets out on a journey, wandering to find... something. someone. he's not sure. all liu qingge knows is that he needs to keep moving. it's important that he does.

after a few days, he stumbles into a valley. large, beautiful, rolling green hills filled with flora and fauna, trees lining the edges, a mountain in the backdrop that frames it like a painting. swirling clouds of white that make up most of the sky, picture-perfect blue peeking out where they don't.

in the middle of it all, a small home.

liu qingge makes it down, slowly but surely. and knocks on the door much later, leaning back and awaiting a response.

he's greeted with two people who he doesn't recognize, but who clearly recognize him, if not made clear by the very confused "shidi?" he gets from the man in green and what feels like it should be a familiar glare from the person in black next to him.

of course, liu qingge doesn't want to bother with the melodrama. he tells them what he knows; he woke up alone. nothing but his sword and the clothes on his back. he hasn't seen anyone who's recognized him. he doesn't remember anything. not even you two, he adds, when the man in green opens his mouth to say something.

from there, after an examination from a healer the two apparently know, they get this news: they cannot tell liu qingge every single thing that has transpired in his life because the source of his memory loss is magical and doing so may trigger a worse fit that could become permanent—instead, they need to (and this is where liu qingge cringes a tad) create a space where he can push through the blockage, slowly but surely, and remember himself again. which is possible, he's told, but only if he doesn't rush this.

liu qingge is reluctant, but doesn't really know what else he could have to rush to do, so he asks if he can stay in the pair's home for a while. just while he recovers. the one in black is ready to say no before the one in green is speaking over him to say yes, please, don't mind my husband, he's just a little possessive hahaha! and liu qingge really doesn't mind, he thinks he can understand why the man might be when he stares at the space where the green one's neck ducks behind his robes.

anyway, he gets his introductions, given two names — shen yuan and luo binghe. they spark something in his head, some familiarity, and he realizes that they haven't been lying about knowing him. which more or less seals the deal about him staying with the pair of them.

over the next few weeks, liu qingge relaxes. he doesn't notice how tense he was until his shoulders loosen and he can feel weight lifted off his shoulders, almost as if it was physical. shen yuan and luo binghe are gracious guests, but—

well, there's just one problem. liu qingge is. falling. for them.

which!!! he didn't mean to!!!! he will swear it up and down everywhere he goes he didn't mean to!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! but shen yuan is so unflinchingly chilly in a way that makes him seem warmer when he thaws. he draws and paints and writes poetry that he lets liu qingge read now and then, liu qingge growing enamoured with the ways he twists all these words into images he could hardly imagine. he's obsessed with the quietness of shen yuan, all things unsaid and barely there touches that feel like fire on his skin.

luo binghe, in comparison, is overwhelming, like a fire raging (hah!) in a hearth. seemingly brash and unbending, liu qingge watches him cry crocodile tears to get his? shizun's? favour, listens to him joke and watches him clean the way only servants do. gets caught up staring at his curls and imagining running his fingers through them, images of braids and days spent dozing under the summer sun with all three of them curled up against each other like kittens in a shoebox.

he just. everything about this place is so warm and kind. it feels like something he's never experienced, even if liu qingge knows that he has no way to know if he's ever been at a place that feels so wholly comfortable. (and almost like home). the atmosphere is domestic. they squabble over chores, eat dinner together, even go out for night hunts, sometimes. luo binghe's attitude towards him starts chilly before thawing and soon he's getting prodded and teased as much as shen yuan is.

then, somehow. liu qingge goes to bed and dreams. and all he can see is smoke and fire. his sister's face. the peak lords and their disciples. his responsibilities become anchors tied to his shoulders.

he wakes up, nearly throws himself out of luo binghe and shen yuan's bed, waking the both of them in the process. liu qingge is on the verge of qi deviating, and luo binghe must notice. because one moment liu qingge is on his way out, one hand on the sword, and shen yuan calling after him, and the next moment he takes a hyperventilating breath, luo binghe is across him weidling his own sword.

its a messy fight. not because of blood or injury but because of everything shouted between them. ruthlessly tearing at insecurities, made up taunts that liu qingge only says because he knows it will upset luo binghe. as their swords clash, liu qingge can feel himself grow weaker, even as his qi still goes out of control.

and then he feels a hand on his back, ice cold qi circling through his meridians, and turns back to look at shen yuan in shock.

i remember you, he says. you did this for me, once, a long time ago.

shen yuan nods, and luo binghe finally sheaths his sword, and liu qingge feels out of his depth, wedged between two people trying to slow him down while his sister, his home, somewhere far off, burn.

he turns to the two of them, feels reluctant to ask for fear of rejection, but liu qingge tells them he needs to go. his sister could be dead and he needs to know her fate. he needs to salvage what he can of his peak, find his disciples, his martial brothers. and he needs to leave them behind, unless they were? willing to come along? and the last part is said so quickly he hopes that it could fly under the radar.

but they both hear. the miraculous part of it all is that they both agree.

liu qingge is taken aback. luo binghe laughs at the expression on his face and shen yuan thwacks him lightly on the arm with a fan before telling liu qingge that they'll spend the night preparing before leaving tomorrow.

liu qingge just agrees, nearly in shock, following after them. vaguely numb. he watches the two of them lean into each other as they enter the home and feels his heart try to beat out of his chest.

he's soooo fucked. liu qingge thinks he's never been in love before but if he has, it's never felt quite like this.

and that's all i have so far! lmk if you'd want to see this written out in full as a fic, too ^_^

i just think like. the fallout of liu qingge remembering everything — luo binghe's actions and shen yuan almost? snubbing him? would complicate so much. on top of luo binghe and shen yuan's realization that they might love liu qingge when they get to see him without his biases making him more hostile to luo binghe/the idea of them as a couple. trying to tackle the way they'd eventually end up together would be sooo hefty but sooo fun.

[puppireg]

little ! nat scatorccio headcanons .ᐟ with caregiver ! misty quigley .ᐟ requested by 🌸 anon𓈒 cws — cursing , vent regression , talk of nat 's home life𓈒

nat tends to hide his regression , preferring to keep it a private matter𓈒 it may be partially due to shame , partially due to the non - conventional way he prefers to regress with weed , partially due to his home life or even simply preferring to keep this vulnerable part of himself away from prying eyes but whatever the case he was initially quite peeved when misty quigley of all people discovered his secret𓈒

nat is laid back , while misty is𓈒𓈒𓈒 well𓈒𓈒𓈒 quite the opposite𓈒 so he wasn 't too pleased when she walked in on him in the locker room after hours , thumb jammed in his mouth , cheeks tearstained after another night his dad had apparently forgotten to pick him up𓈒 maybe he was being punished for the way he 'd slammed the door of his car that morning , the stupid chickenshit car he seemed to like more than nat𓈒 whatever the reason , nat was still at school𓈒 he wouldn 't have dared to let his thumb slip into his mouth if he 'd have known anyone was there but it was coming up on 8:00 and the doors were meant to lock at 7:30𓈒 count on misty fucking quigley to be creeping around after hours𓈒

"shit !" his gravelly cracking voice𓈒 misty with a comically shocked expression on her face , standing stock still by the door she 'd just come through𓈒 "natalie𓈒𓈒"

he 'd scoffed𓈒 "it 's nat𓈒" a hand flew to misty 's mouth𓈒 "sorry !" an awkward silence had passed , nat wishing he could just disappear𓈒 he 'd braced himself for the worst , misty jumping to infantilize him or attempting to blackmail him but to his surprise she 'd awkwardly moved to sit down next to him looking about as shy as he 'd felt𓈒

he 'd cringed at this and yet𓈒𓈒𓈒 "i won 't say anything , nat ," she 'd said emphasizing his proper name𓈒 more silence𓈒 "y'know𓈒𓈒𓈒" she started , shifting to pull her knees to her chest𓈒 "i do it too𓈒" she 'd giggled nervously , blushing at nat 's incredulous look despite his clear embarrassment𓈒

nat had refused to speak , too embarrassed , too exposed𓈒 but misty was content to continue , rambling on about her own regression , and𓈒𓈒𓈒 "oh oh oh ! i always wanted to be a caregiver𓈒" well shit𓈒

despite nat really not even wanting a caregiver , misty had been persistent , giving him her best puppy eyes and everything𓈒 nat had been frustrated but it was clear misty 's intentions were pure and maybe it wouldn 't completely suck getting to know her𓈒𓈒𓈒 "fine ," he huffed , not wanting to argue or have misty turn on him𓈒 "but if i want it to stop it stops , 'kay ?" misty nodded profusely , clearly excited𓈒

things start off tentatively𓈒 misty continuously checks on nat to see if he 's feeling little , speaking to him in a babyish tone that embarrasses nat who is not regressed in the slightest𓈒 it frustrates him to be spoken down to𓈒 he 'll whine at her to "stoooop" huffing in frustration𓈒 "this isn't working , okay ?" he 'll grumble𓈒 "just lay off ," he 'll mutter , stalking off ashamed𓈒

still later when his dad is berating his mom about some goddamn thing out of her control and he begins to drop , it 's misty he calls on their shitty landline , apologizing profusely for the yelling in the background𓈒

as soon as he gets the go ahead to come over , nat 's sneaking out his window with eyes full of tears𓈒 he 's hardly even aware this is the first time he 'll really be regressed around misty𓈒 misty 's waiting for him on the front stoop , a concerned look on her face as she drapes an arm around the weepy boy , ushering him upstairs to her room𓈒

it 's the first time he 's been to misty 's house , yet he 's too worked up to really take it in𓈒 he 's embarrassed and ashamed , and a small part of him is kicking himself for crying in front of misty but more than anything he just needs comfort and misty is more than happy to provide it , doing a surprisingly good job at soothing the regressor , sitting him on her bed and kneeling down below to look at him , a firm hand planted on his shoulder𓈒

misty who cautiously envelops him in a hug , letting him sob into her shoulder , softly shushing him and rubbing a tentative circle into his back𓈒

that night nat runs , apologizing profusely to her the next day at practice , a shy blush on his cheeks𓈒

over time nat grows more comfortable around misty𓈒 he still gets easily embarrassed when she babies him or fawns over him , not used to his more childish whims being encouraged or used to such gentle easy praise𓈒 he 's a very blushy kiddo𓈒

nat has a wide age range , ranging from baby to teen depending on his mental headspace and mood𓈒 around misty he 's typically toddler or kiddo range , tending to feel safe but still quite embarrassed about his regression𓈒 sometimes he 'll involuntarily slip into babyspace which he 's really ashamed of , spending most of his regressed time weeping𓈒 misty is quite delighted to have a baby on her hands , used to playing with her babydolls and having taken many babysitting classes𓈒 it 's so exciting for her to get some real experience𓈒 she 's oh so attentive getting him to calm down , and doesn 't shy away from the idea of padding although at that prospect nat flushes a bright red , protesting vehemently and refusing to look at her𓈒

nat is an outdoorsy little one , something that delights misty𓈒 though he 's shy about going out regressed at first , misty will often take him on backyard picnics and jumping in puddles with him𓈒 nat loves to hike although misty struggles to keep up with him𓈒

sometimes a small nat can get insecure about his height with the way he towers over misty𓈒 although as a tboy , nat will often lament his height in the opposite direction while not regressed yet small nat 's height is a cause for insecurity as well𓈒 how can he be little if he 's taller than misty ? sometimes it causes dysphoria , and may lead to tears of frustration and humiliation𓈒 misty is very understanding of this , however , letting him know it 's okay for him to regress regardless of how tall he is𓈒

misty who has a huge collection of toys and stuffed animals notices that nat doesn 't have any𓈒 he has his one bear but that doesn 't leave his room and she 's actually never been to his trailer𓈒 he 's quite honestly scared to bring her there , worried of what his dad might say or how he might treat misty even were nat to be in his regular headspace𓈒 she doesn't push him about it though , instead offering him one of her old ones , a golden retriever puppy that nat latches onto immediately𓈒

although nat denies wanting any gear (he secretly does but doesn 't want to bother misty , worrying about the cost and where he 'd keep it) , misty is insistent on getting him a few items𓈒 he cries when she surprises him with a brand new dinosaur figurine and a glass bottle decorated with a green dinosaur𓈒 she also gets him a pacifier , apologizing that it 's of the baby variety and therefore not being big enough for his mouth𓈒 still he can 't stop thanking her tearfully , treasuring the items with his entire being𓈒 misty even offers to keep them at her house so his dad can 't find them𓈒

nat can be quite stubborn which misty picks up on shortly after she begins caring for him𓈒 he 's a big thumb sucker , no matter how many times misty scolds him or offers him her pacifier his grubby thumb will end up back in his mouth𓈒 although he 's typically quite obedient this he refuses to give in on much to misty 's chagrin𓈒

[thebeesareback]

Severance theory - who is the secret Eagan baby?

Spoiler/speculation warning.

Following last week's Severance episode, The After Hours, I've seen a fair amount of speculation that there's a secret Eagan hidden among the cast. When Mark, Devon and Cobel approach the birthing suite Cobel gets the guard to let them in by indicating a (fake) pregnant Devon and saying, conspiratorially, that she's "one of Jame's", thus suggesting that there are plenty of women who come to the birthing cabins secretly pregnant with Jame's babies. Ew.

As Severance loves its twists and is designed to make its audience try to figure out puzzles, it seems likely that we're supposed to assume that there are some other Eagan babies around. The only character whose father we know is Helena, so we can rule her out. Also, she is an acknowledged Eagan baby. Some people have suggested that Rickon, Miss Huang, or even Cobel herself could have been fathered by Jame. I have a different theory. I think it's Mr Drummond.

Drummond is a big old weirdo who turns up in season two and has a very creepy air. He could be mysterious for the fun of it, but I think there's a specific reason. It takes two to tango, and I think that he's the child of Jame Eagan... and Ms Cobel.

Here are my reasons.

In "Trojan's Horse", Drummond, Natalie and Helena have a meeting. Helena refers to Jame as "father", and Drummond also refers to Jame as "father". I mean, that's the biggest part of my theory. If you're looking for the person who might be Jame's child, start with the person who calls him daddy.

In "Goodbye, Mrs Selvig" there's a scene where Helena and Cobel are supposed to get into a car together. Then Drummond comes into view and suddenly, Cobel is terrified. She can't get away fast enough. Certainly, it could be because Drummond is super creepy, but I don't think Cobel scares easily and I don't think that she would be intimidated by one of the regular Lumon goons (big love to Irving). I think there's a personal history, and perhaps confronting your angry, estranged child would be enough.

Cobel seems to know what to say when speaking to the guard in "After Hours". It seems as though she's been in this situation before. But we know that the driver for the Eagan's unpleasant missions isn't Cobel: it's Burt! Perhaps, though, she was taken to the birthing suites because she, personally, was pregnant. We, the audience, also know that Cobel has some experience with motherhood, hence her (apparently successful) job as a lactation consultant. Hope Devon and Rickon's baby is okay... she seems to have vanished.

In the massively underrated "Sweet Vitriol", we see Cobel's backstory. She was brought up and groomed by Lumon, working in one of their ether factories. When Cobel hit adolescence (ish), she was shipped off to a special school for girls - the one Miss Huang now attends. So you have young women who have been taught to worship and obey the Eagan family, all in one place, all adjusting to life outside of their poverty-stricken hometowns. It sounds like St Trinian's. It also sounds like the kind of place absolutely rife with sexual exploitation. Sissy speaks about the Eagans as if they're gods -- would a young woman like Cobel say "no" to whatever an Eagan wanted?

Drummond himself seems to have absolutely gulped the Lumon Kool Aid. He doesn't have a huge amount of screen-time, but we know that he's involved in management - typical nepo baby - and has a "frolic" tattoo, presumably because he's so devoted to Lumon.

Let's triangulate. There's a cult leader who has access to young, vulnerable women. We have a woman who has experience of birth and "early years" care, and was one of the aforementioned vulnerable young women. We have a younger man who refers to the cult leader as "father" and can scare the woman. I think that Jame + Cobel = Drummond.

Let me know what you all think, and check out my page for more discussion of media and literature!

[dani-the-human]

More ramblings, I can't be stopped!

Yknow when Cale saves Raon and is happy when he finds Raon is still ready to fight? Let me quote it:

Cale liked the dragon because it was so different from him. Growing up an abused orphan, Cale- well, Kim Roksu- had given up. After his childhood, he didn't want to be the main character of a story, like Choi Han was. And, after giving up in the place he called home, he felt too weak to fight against the world.

Being difficult is also a factor in why Cale doesn't want to be a hero, but maybe he doesn't think he can be a hero because he couldn't even protect himself. What he always fails to realize is that he was a child. The fact that he got out of that house ALIVE, without much physical trauma from what I can remember, is a testament to Roksoo's ability to survive.

I also think he wrongly equates giving up to surviving. Again, he was a child. He didn't have money, a job, a way to get a roof over his head, hell he probably didn't even know where his birth certificate was if his uncle even kept that. A child is a dependent, the only thing he could do was live while biding his time to get out of his uncles house and then the orphanage.

But that isn't what a hero does.

Heros are strong, directly confronting whatever stands in their way even in the face of hardship.

But surviving isn't pretty. A lot of the time you just have to take it because, as a child, you don't have supernatural abilities or absurd physical capabilities, and you're dependent on the adults around you for everything. For Cale, this was probably super apparent. With his love for fiction, I wonder just how many books he's read or shows he's watched about some powerful young adult or child fighting off monsters and the like and decided that he wasn't that.

Heros fight, he didn't, he "gave up".

I think he still believes he is in a way. All his plans hindge on living a peaceful life, something he's been working towards ever since he was a kid. It's not until he becomes Cale and gets the shield that he even does anything physically. A lot of his actions are under the table, he's a strategist and more so delegates tasks rather than fighting. Heros also don't do that so another tally to why Cale doesn't think he's a hero, but I digress.

Surviving and being the brains behind something is still fighting. Being alive is still fighting.

What I'm getting at is that Cale believes he's doing the bare minimum, and has been doing the bare minimum since childhood when he had to take his uncle's abuse. He goes on the battlefield because he wants to survive, not out of heroic reasons (or so he believes anyway). He NEEDED to.

If he didn't take his uncles abuse then he'd die on the street. If he didn't fight the monsters then he'd die if they got in. If he didn't change the plot, he'd die in the war coming over the horizon.

He doesn't deserve praise, to be called a hero, because he's simply trying to survive.

[talonabraxas]

Sri Ganesha! Jai Ganesha!

Ganesha ॐ Talon Abraxas

Ganesha, God Of Wisdom

"The great and peaceful ones live regenerating the world like the coming of the spring; having crossed the ocean of embodied existence themselves, they freely aid all others who seek to cross it. The very essence and inherent will of Mahatmas is to remove the suffering of others, just as the ambrosia-rayed moon of itself cools the earth heated by the intense rays of the sun." ~Shankaracharya

He who performs the maximum work with minimum labour.

It is said in Hindu tradition that Parvati, wife of Shiva and mother of Ganesha, saw the syllable AUM. Her powerful glance transformed the Sacred Word into coupling elephants which gave birth to Ganesha and then resumed the form of the AUM. Thus Ganesha, with elephant head and human body, possessed the AUM as his syllable, and at the dictate of the sage Vyasa, he set down the Word in symbolic and categorical form in the richly allegorical epic called the Mahabharata. In the process of performing this holy task, Ganesha became Ekadantin, the Single-Tusked One. When he entered into the alliance, it was stipulated that the sage would pour forth the stupendous epic into a lakh of stanzas, and that he must go on recording them at the same speed. The terms they entered into were equally marvellous. If the sage staggered in his inspired dictation, the writing faculty in the scribe would become permanently defunct. If the scribe were to halt or delay his composition, the articulate sage would become dumb. Both scribe and sage were fulfilling awesome tasks as if by divine dispensation. As customary in ancient India, Ganesha was writing on palm leaves with an iron stylus. Just when three-fourths of the work was over, the stylus snapped. Ganesha then and there broke his right tusk and used it as his pen without a moment's break in his work. The immortal undertaking was accomplished with solemn success and stands as an archetypal example of the teaching that no sacrifice is too great for a noble cause and that the resourceful know no impediments.

Ganesha is thus the Remover of Obstacles. Even devotees of Buddhism and Jainism propitiate him first, seeking his sanction in their invocation of their chosen deities. He is that aspect of Cosmic Intelligence which aids the awakening and growth of those who are divinely disposed. He apparently helps the wicked also, but ultimately arrests their untoward undertakings. In this sense Ganesha is called Vigneswara, the Lord of Obstructions. He is capable of creating hindrances as well as clearing off hindrances. Through either mode he brings good to all concerned. Sometimes what is sought after by the devotee is not sanctioned. The disappointment brought about thereby is no doubt poignant. But in due time it is realized that the seeming obstruction is a blessing in disguise. Vigneswara wields the affairs of the world in such a way that the greater evils of life are warded off through the intervention of lesser evils.

The ceremonial sanction and support of Vigneswara is sought after in all new undertakings. Whatever is undertaken ignoring the Lord of Wisdom is bound to meet with impediments, and therefore devotees circumambulate his image or perform such actions as knocking thrice on the head, holding the left ear with the right hand, right ear with the left hand, and sitting or standing as a mark of submission and obedience. In a child, such sanctification arouses the imagination and creates a living contact between the visible human and the invisible superhuman. It induces devotion in little children. It gives a practical shape to the urge in every child for a healthy and loving relationship with its comrades. Such acts as the giving of edibles dedicated to the deity and the sharing of their distribution amongst themselves become the means for the removal of obstruction through inherent selfishness.

The Enlightened Man invokes Ganesha through intense mental invocation. His inward prayer consists of the intention to act with the fervent wish that his undertaking be in tune with cosmic harmony and the Divine Will, and that if it should be counter to it, it might as well meet with the fate it deserves. Such a true devotee is deeply aware of the potent force that streams through Ganesha and recognizes that through success and failure alike he can learn progressively how to set his feet more firmly and squarely on the Path. He is also keenly appreciative of the symbolic attributes of the elephant-headed god. He realizes that the trunk of Ganesha is curved around his single tusk in the form of the Sacred Word as though to protect the essential potency of the remaining tusk. The power within the trunk is the sense of smell which in the elephant is the channel of experience par excellence. The symbolic significance of this is suggested in the yoga system wherein Muladhara, the root-centre of the mortal body, is related to the elephant, or Ganesha, as well as to the bottom of the spine and the elimination centre. The root-centre represents the earth and the sense of smell as well as cohesion, obstruction and bone. Thus Ganesha stands at the beginning of the pilgrimage through the chakra centres, and it is he who must be propitiated to remove all obstacles. In The Secret Doctrine the earth is spoken of in relation to the rudimentary sense of smell. The other senses are related to water, fire, air and ether and are said to be fused in the sense of smell, the last of the series to evolve. Related to this powerful sense is that form of memory associated with the psychic realm and also pertaining significantly to the libido. Ganesha, being a symbol for all such characteristics, embodies the powers of the Akashic and lower astral realm brought down to earth whereupon he stands at the entrance to the Path. He represents Divine Wisdom as well as worldly wisdom, the crucial link - or antaskarana - between them, and the timely manifestation of Brahma Vach in daily life. ~Hermes

The degree of success or failure are the landmarks the Masters have to follow, as they will constitute the barriers placed with your own hands between yourselves and those whom you have asked to be your teachers. The nearer you approach to the goal contemplated - the shorter the distance between the student and the Master. ~Mahatma K. H.

[invalidstories]

Hello hello! If your requests are still open, would you be willing to write about an injured Hero who keeps trying to fight whatever threat is at hand so Villain kidnaps them for their own wellbeing??

The Rescue You Didn’t Ask For

Thank you for the request, hope you like it!

Warning: Mention of broken bones, injuries, blood, destruction, kidnapping and violence

The hero stumbled through the alley, their breath coming in ragged gasps. Blood dripped from a gash on their forehead, staining the pavement beneath their boots. Their ribs screamed with every step, and their left arm hung uselessly at their side. But they couldn’t stop. Not yet. Not while the city was still in danger.

Behind them, the sounds of chaos echoed—screams, explosions, the distant wail of sirens. The villain’s latest scheme was in full swing, and the hero was the only one standing in their way. Or at least, they were supposed to be. Right now, they could barely stand at all.

“You’re in no condition to fight,” a voice said, smooth and familiar. The hero froze, their head snapping up to see the villain leaning casually against the alley wall, their arms crossed. “Honestly, it’s embarrassing to watch.”

The hero glared, though the effect was somewhat ruined by the way they swayed on their feet. “Get out of my way. I don’t have time for this.”

The villain pushed off the wall, their expression unreadable. “You’re bleeding. Badly. And unless I’m mistaken, you’ve got at least two broken ribs. Maybe three. Do you really think you can take me on like this?”

The hero didn’t answer. Instead, they lunged forward, their fist swinging in a clumsy arc. The villain sidestepped easily, catching the hero by the wrist and pulling them close.

“Stop,” the villain said, their voice low and firm. “You’re going to get yourself killed.”

The hero struggled weakly, their strength fading fast. “I have to… stop them…”

“Them?” The villain’s brow furrowed. “You’re not even fighting me right now, are you? Who’s out there?”

The hero didn’t answer, their knees buckling as the adrenaline finally gave out. The villain caught them before they could hit the ground, their arms surprisingly gentle.

“You’re impossible,” the villain muttered, though there was no real anger in their voice. “Stubborn, reckless, and utterly impossible.”

The hero’s vision blurred, their words slurring as they tried to speak. “Have to… save them…”

The villain sighed, adjusting their grip on the hero. “You’re not saving anyone like this. And I can’t have my favorite hero dying on me. So, for once in your life, just… stop.”

Before the hero could protest, the villain pressed a small device to their neck. A sharp sting, and then darkness.

When the hero woke, they were lying on a soft couch, a blanket draped over them. The room was dimly lit, the air warm and quiet. For a moment, they thought they were dreaming. Then they saw the villain sitting in a chair nearby, flipping through a book.

“Where…?” the hero croaked, their throat dry.

“My safehouse,” the villain said, not looking up. “You’re welcome, by the way.”

The hero tried to sit up, but a sharp pain in their side made them gasp. The villain was at their side in an instant, a hand on their shoulder.

“Don’t,” they said firmly. “You’re still healing.”

The hero blinked up at them, confused. “Why… why are you doing this?”

The villain hesitated, their expression softening just slightly. “Because someone has to keep you alive. And apparently, that someone is me.”

The hero stared at them, their mind struggling to process the words. The villain, their enemy, the one they’d fought countless times, was… helping them?

“You kidnapped me,” the hero said finally.

The villain smirked. “I prefer to think of it as a strategic relocation for your own wellbeing.”

The hero couldn’t help it—they laughed, though it quickly turned into a wince. “You’re unbelievable.”

“So I’ve been told,” the villain said, sitting back in their chair. “Now, rest. The city can survive without you for one night. And if it can’t… well, maybe it doesn’t deserve you.”

The hero wanted to argue, to insist they were fine, but the warmth of the blanket and the steady rhythm of their breathing made it hard to stay awake. As their eyes drifted shut, they thought they felt the villain’s hand brush against their forehead, their voice a soft murmur.

“You’re going to be the death of me, hero.”

Masterlist

Taglist (click to be added): @neon-kazoo - @sausages-things - @trash-queen-af

[hoshis-wave]

7. voices in my head

🎬 CUT TO: A JUMP SCARE (wc: ~600)

you didn’t know jeonghan was being serious when he told you that he’d make this last-minute meeting a bit more…professional. his reinforcements? well first there’s joshua, who you haven’t seen since university (which is basically a few days in memory but has been YEARS for future-you); he seems to now be committed to living the corporate nepo baby dream by doing anything he wants (something past/current-you spends a second lamenting on, joshua always seemed to want more than just that for himself).

“…shua!” you say, a bit delayed—after processing he’s actually here. “you’re acting like you’ve seen a ghost, yn,” joshua smirks. naturally you reply, “i mean i haven’t seen you since uni,” “did you seriously forget me being at you’re going away party when you moved overseas. i gave you the LA recs,” joshua gapes.

which catches you off guard. within this whole time travel debacle, you have been able to have a general consciousness of what future-you has experienced [in some inexplicable way]. this was not in your memory. joshua ended in the same part of the timeline where jeonghan had likewise ended.

“i was just testing you,” you try and recover, which joshua laughs at but earns a side eye from jeonghan.

luckily you’re saved by hansol, who is apparently jeonghan’s intern.

“oh yeah, you’re here, nice to finally meet you,” he simply says.

you laugh at that. “finally?”

“i mean, jeonghan hyung has mentioned you before all this,” hansol casually replies as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world—which makes your heart clench. it’s supposed to have been many, many years (and with that) lives lived since your breakup. for some reason, the way vernon brings this up makes you feel finally sane for knowing what it’s like to be dating jeonghan just the other day.

the next thing hansol says, however, sends alarms to your head.

“and weren’t you at that film festival this past year?”

which seems normal enough, aside from the fact that’s never happened. no film festival exists in that memory, and that’s certainly something you wouldn’t forget.

so all you can do is ask, posing as a joke, “and how exactly do you know this?” innocent enough to hopefully gain some answers.

this intern seems to be really straightforward, not really taking it as a joke but rather as something sincere. “oh i mean it’s on your SNS.”

a post you don’t remember suddenly exists on your instagram. after the constant stalking you’ve done on your future self, you know this did post never existed—the past few days you’ve been in this timeline. you so desperately want to freak the fuck out because genuinely what was going on, but you don’t want to risk anymore oddities????

so all you can do is laugh it off in the most convincing way possible. which was virtually impossible, you’ve never been good at acting. hansol is looking terribly confused right now (you could only imagine how far off you are from whatever concoction of you jeonghan has put in his mind).

“you’re acting funny,” jeonghan says with no real emotion at all, something just matter-of-fact. which you dramatically frown at in annoyance and also a bit of fear he’s sensing something is actually off…even though it is a fact.

you could’ve sworn it was there for a second, but the look on his face was like he saw something…saw the real you. the young you. simply just how you were with him. a simple look of fondness, the look you were used to seeing before all this…you saw it for a fleeting minute.

𝟏𝟑 𝐠𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐧 𝟑𝟎 ᯓ★

୨ৎ synopsis: one day you're 19, and the next you wake up as your 29 y/o self. the older version of yourself seems to have it all: the best friends ever, a well-traveled life, and a dream job (@ pledis magazine) with an upcoming interview with a hot-shot director that's set to break the internet. the catch? the interview is with your ex yoon jeonghan (or...your younger self's current boyfriend. this time travel stuff is confusing)! a second life/chance/etc. that's different from your original timeline has now come to you, what will you decide?

୨ৎ a/n: SORRY I'VE BEEN MIA!!!! posted this as my mac got those lines on the display im PRESSED i think i have no storage -_- still grinding out recruiting szn UGH but things are improving a bit :') i hope...anyways pace is picking up like lots of things revealed????!!!! yay! also I APOLOGIZE IF ANY TYPOS THIS WAS RUSHED if i forgot u, pls remind me if ure on the taglist!!!! it's been a min </3 as always pls share ur thoughts. thanks for ur patience loveliessss

previous | masterlist | next ୨ৎ taglist: @ilovejungwonandhaechan, @fragmentof-indifference, @onlyjungchan, @ateez-atiny380, @wonwoos-wineparty, @k1eev, @vnstennis, @tacosandbitch, @hipsdofangirl, @kamfaye, @bambispostsblog, @woncheecks, @jjeongddol, @lunaryoongie, @hipsdofangirl, @kamfaye, @giverosespls

[cumplane-forever]

Half-Demon Child (SY) Anatgonizes Da-Shixiong For No Apparent Reason

part of the aeroplane as sqq extended au- might delete later

(Context if you don't want to read allat: sy has been reincarnated as the half-demon son of mobei-jun and og shang qinghua.

In this au shen yuan is a rare plant baby that is made from mixing blood and was an accidental baby acquisition, immediately handed over by og shang qinghua to shen qingqiu. in this specific verse, sqq is aeroplane transmigrated (and also indirectly responsible for sy's birth by directing moshang towards the plant) although it works perfectly with og sqq as well.

sy grew up on qing jing peak with ming fan and ning yingying as his primary caretakeers as he was born in the same year the immortal alliance conference takes place(and sqq is too busy with trying to prevent canon to directly take care of him) in the following he's kind of regaining his memories and realizing he's in pidw. consequently ming fan suffers. ((side note: in this one sy grows at normal rates rather than the renesmee accelerated growing i said he'd have in part 3))

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

Ming Fan had survived many things in his life. Grueling night hunts. Endless paperwork. Senior martial brothers who thought "delegating" meant shoving every task onto his shoulders.

But nothing- not even the worst administrative nightmare An Ding Peak could conjure- had prepared him for Shen Yuan. At first, things had been fine. Sure, babysitting Shen Yuan had never been part of his plans, but he’d taken to the duty like any responsible disciple would.

Years of wrangling junior disciples had- surprisingly- not translated well into taking care of a literal newborn. Even Ning Yingying with her sunny disposition had struggled at first, but a few hours had revealed her a natural with a knack for subduing cranky babies. When it was his turn, Ming Fan had somehow managed- how he didn't remember, because four years later it was a forgotten blur.

Shen Yuan at the moment, was a tolerable (if slightly spoiled) child. The kind of kid who'd demand to be carried and fed at the same time, but also the kind who would cling to his robes and fall asleep drooling on his shoulder. Annoying, but manageable.

Then, suddenly, something changed. One day, Shen Yuan was sweet and pliant; the next, he glared at Ming Fan like he’d burnt his favourite toy in front of him. Ming Fan had no idea what he’d done to offend the little demon, but the five-year-old was on a mission.

“Shidi,” he said cautiously, watching Shen Yuan kneel in the courtyard, tiny hands cupped together.

“What… are you doing?”

“Ice lotus,” Shen Yuan declared.

“What.”

“I’m making an ice lotus.”

Ming Fan stared. Shen Yuan had been impressed upon, repeatedly, to keep his ice demon heritage under wraps. Sure, all of Qing Jing Peak knew, but the rest of the sect remained oblivious, and it was ideal that it stayed that way. Which meant no using no powers, icy or otherwise outside of the bamboo house and its surrounding gardens.

And yet, here was Shen Yuan, with a crude, half-melted lump of frost that he had manged to conjure in his palms. He stared at it with deep concentration, brow furrowed, lips pursed in an expression that would make any of the shijiemei coo at him and forget the mischief he was partaking in.

Ming Fan pinched the bridge of his nose. “You- Shen Yuan, stop that.”

“No.”

“You can’t just-”

“I’m practicing.”

“You’re five!”

Shen Yuan sniffed imperiously. “I’m cultivating.”

Ming Fan was going to lose his mind. He stalked forward, prepared to confiscate whatever disastrous creation was forming, but before he could, Shen Yuan threw it at him.

Ming Fan yelped as freezing cold slush splattered across his robes.

“Shen Yuan!”

The half-demon grinned insincerely. He then tried to hide his expression behind his hand. “Oh no, my hands slipped,” came the muffled excuse.

Ming Fan clenched and unclenched his jaw. He had an entire day of paperwork to finish, an errand to run for Shang Qinghua, and now he was standing in the courtyard, covered in melting ice, glaring down at a smug little brat.

He inhaled sharply. Patience. Restraint. Think of Ning-shimei. Think of how much worse this could be.

As if sensing his thoughts, Shen Yuan went in for the kill. “Shijie should come back soon. You like her more than me, don’t you, Fan-ge?”

Ming Fan narrowed his eyes. “What? Don’t start.”

“You’re always extra nice to her.”

“That’s because she actually listens when I tell her not to do something!”

Shen Yuan pouted, clearly unconvinced. “You like her.”

Ming Fan, who had been completely over whatever childhood crush he once had, exhaled forcefully. “No.”

Shen Yuan gave him a contemplative expression.

“Oh, don’t even-”

“You like her.”

“A-Yuan, I swear-”

“I’ll tell her you want to marry her.”

“I will have you grounded.”

Before Shen Yuan could escalate further, the subject of their conversation arrived.

“Ming Fan, what are you two yelling about?” Ning Yingying asked, stepping into the courtyard with a basket of sweets.

She stopped short at the sight of Ming Fan, dripping wet and seething. “Eh? What happened to you?”

Shen Yuan, the traitor, turned his wide, innocent eyes on her. “Fan-ge was playing with me, but he got too excited and tripped.”

Ming Fan nearly ascended from frustration. Ning Yingying snickered, but abruptly stifled it.

“Poor Fan-ge.” She fished out a pastry and handed it to Shen Yuan. “Did you behave?”

“He threw ice at me,” Ming Fan snapped.

“He's been having a bad day,” Ning Yingying reasoned, patting Shen Yuan’s head. "You should be glad he was playing at all." The little menace leaned into her hand smugly.

Ming Fan wiped a hand down his face. “I- you know what? You deal with him. I’m done for now.”

"Two shichen?"

"Three."

Ning-shimei looked as if she would argue, but then took a look at him and nodded "..By dinnertime then."

Demon-wrangling hours decided, he nodded and went to change his slush-stained uniform. As he stomped away, he heard Shen Yuan whisper to Ning Yingying, “Fan-ge is so clumsy.”

Vengence, Ming Fan decided, would be best served in the form of letting Ning-shimei cook dinner at the bamboo house that night.

[tacticalsp]

So apparently my school wanted to RANDOMLY bring up every conflict I've had and compile it in a file, just to present it to me like I'm being questioned for heinous criminal activity. I think its because I've always been able to weasel my way out of the situations but they have "evidence" or whatever.

Anyway, Id like to share some of my favorite things they brought up, and why I did it. It's just so funny to me.

What I did: Skipping class to play Beyblades in the empty study hall my freshman year. (i was 13 dont judge my interests)

Why I did it: Class was too easy and boring and they wouldn't let me go to a higher level for some reason. SO i skipped

What I did: Bringing a tin of crickets to school and putting them in this guys bag.

Why I did it: He's racist, sexist, annoying, and stupid as fuck. I was doing a public service. (he walked up to me in class and pulled my hoodie down and called me bitch for no reason, I literally have done nothing to him, so I just waited till the next day and did the cricket thing. I wont start fights, I just silently ruin your life.)

What I did: Planted P0rn on this guys phone

Why I did it: He was being pervy, and was annoying my friend, shoving a camera in her face and she punched him and started a fight. So I took the phone, deleted the fight video and looked up tentacle shit. Man that was fun. They didn't actually bring this up in the meeting, they didn't know i did that but still funny.

What I did: "ALLEGEDY" Getting paid to write essays and teaching people cheating tactics for money. (they didnt have proof but they said "we highly suspect") okay buddy.

Why I did it: I'm broke, and I'm really fast at writing good essays for some reason.

What I did: "Climb into the ceiling and break the ceiling tiles"

Why I did it: That actually wasn't me, it was my little brother, but I guess they assumed me bc of last name. Im actually a little insulted that they would think Id do something like that. I may not be a rule follower, but I have class. ANyway I WAS there and it was stupid but funny as fuck.

What i did: bring a lighter to school

WHy i did it: I always carry one and i forgot it was in my pocket. I dont smoke or anything i just like to burn things sometimes. Tottally my fault myb guysss

[theslumberinggod]

The Songbird, Part 1: Song of the Soul

Summary: A series of events in which Adeptus Xiao discovers the sweeter things in life and somethings unexpected---that Outlanders tend to turn his life upside down, that singing is his new favorite sound, and that you have captured his attention in an unprecedented way…

Pairing: Xiao X Reader

•~°~•

The first Outlander to come into Xiao’s life thoroughly changed him. How could she have not, sweeping through like a hurricane of good will, stepping into many strange things and into the lives of all around her? Lumine was simply the sort of person to change the world by intervention alone.

Xiao did not think his change in self would go further than what had already transpired, it was settled and done, the Chasm left him feeling a little lighter and new in a way he had not anticipated.

And so Xiao thinks he is content, so many years of doing the same thing in the name of devotion, debt paying and the good of the fleeting lives around him---he was content. He told himself he was, and thinks if any more change happened he would not know what to do with it.

Then came you.

Where Lumine changed the world by becoming a chess piece in the world's grand events and stories of lives---whether pawn or Queen or something else entirely---Xiao was almost certain you were going to change the world by changing the people around you.

He had little interest in mortals, (or so the Yaksha told himself) though he was indulging his curiosity more and more as years since the first Outlander’s appearance and she butted his way into his life. It made him curious, and perhaps believe that maybe he could be allowed, just maybe. The second Outlander (being you) was interesting because you were not like Lumine at all.

You were perfectly human at least so far, with needs of a mortal body. You did not at first speak a lick of Teyvat tongue, confused and bewildered, Verr Goldet gently took you in. Thankfully you picked up on basics of language fast and to everyone’s happy surprise, more than eager to help out around the Inn, and unlike Lumine, perfectly content with staying in Wangshu Inn, staying in Teyvat.

The Inn changed with you in it. You were a strange foreigner and that both made you stand out and fit in. Your care for those around you in whatever form you chose to show it made harder and darker days better, and moods lightened. You were a good influence in many ways, you added something delightful. You would be a face remembered when people left the Inn, for your kind words and unforgettable countenance.

You were curious indeed. Especially where most would shrink under Xiao’s gaze or in his presence, you looked at him with….something. emotions were harder for him to label and snme and pinpoint meaning, but he was observant at the very least.

You even apparently could make good tofu.

You were threatening to incite change in him too, because you looked at him with that something, because you were not afraid of him and to his utter horror he could tell the difference when you made the almond Tofu and when Yanxiao made the tofu. He had yet to gage why he could tell the difference or if one or the other was good, but it alarmed him.

However all good things in life to Xiao were momentary (Were you a good thing? Did he like the way you looked at him? Did it matter if he did, or should he even care? He shouldn't, he shouldn't, you were just…) and the bad things cropped up quickly and swiftly.

His Karmic Debt flared up more often, in the form of physical agony. Xiao had been through what Lumine called “hell and back” and so he could take whatever was dished to him, and proudly and loyally he would. He knew the stakes. The cost. The burden.

But it didn't make it any less awful.

The Yaksha sometimes wondered if it was a dream, perhaps in the battles that night he had pushed himself a little too hard . He lay in the grass, bleeding and desperately fighting the curse that soaked his being, the awful ugly thing that made him ugly, deservingly so he thinks in his despair. There is no hate within him, but anyone from the outside who knew of the deepest troubles of his soul (which few to none did) would see that perhaps Xiao simply loathed himself.

It all felt like waves of aching in his body, pinning him to the soft ground and forcing labored breaths and he thinks for a slight moment that it might not pass, and it would get worse, and he'd lose himself.

And then it happened.

A voice. A song on the wind, carried over miles and miles over the plain, distant and echoing and beautiful. It was a llullaby. The voice wasn't the most eloquent thing, a voice of a singer learning the tune and the lyrics, but it soothed all the horrible malevolence, the things still left in the plains already sulking away then fled from the melody. Relief washed over Xiao as the ache dissipated almost entirely, and he could see past black dots and visions into the star-lit sky, the world coming back into focus.

The only other thing that did that was the flute he so cherished, so had the Archon himself picked up the art of song, but if he did, then why did something so experienced sound so endearingly clumsy?

The song ended before Xiao could search for it’s esteemed source. It left the air empty and losing something, but it had healed and perhaps maybe saved Xiao that night. He wish he could hear it again, and his wish was granted.

For weeks on end the song repeated during Xiao’s patrols, the voice becoming clearer and smoother. Every time the song started the dark things of the night would shrink, the ache inside be soothed. But the song ended to quick for Xiao to go seek out, and no matter in what direction his keen ears pinpointed it, he found no one and nothing. Just mortals, doing mortal things. No Archon to thank.

“Are you alright?” Xiao knew you were approaching before you announced yourself. He leaned on the railing, the sun making it's graceful and colorful descent towards the horizon over the marsh. His arms were folded and he did not look at you when you approached, still unsure why he had not simply stayed away as he often did.

“I am fine,” Some confusion laced his gaze and he finally looked at you, standing there somewhat timidly with a plate of tofu in your hands. Something about the sight elicited a entirely unfamiliar emotion within him, so he squashed it like a bug. “Why do you ask, Outlander?”

“You were…what's the word?” You ask unabashedly, not intimidated by him---at least not in the way Xiao was used to observing within humans. He doesn't necessarily mean to intimidate humans, but it was good for them to understand who and what he was, and perhaps either you didn’t or you hid it well or you were just…funny, as Outlander’s apparently were. “When you look mad?”

He looked mad? “I look angry?”

“No,” You shook your head, pursing your lips. He traced the features of your face, how expressive you were. Verr Goldet had mused it made communicating with you easier when you couldn't really speak the native language at all, she could always tell what you were thinking. Xiao knew you were thinking, he was yet to figure out what or why he wanted to know so badly. “Just…like when you look at something really hard.”

“...glaring?”

“Yes, that!” You lit up, nodding vigorously. There was that emotion again, uneasiness in his stomach, tightness in his chest and breath caught in his throat, and he squashed it again. What was it and why do you spark it?!

“So,” Xiao looked away from you, but it did not effectively remove whatever you were doing to him as you had the audacity to approach him, closer than anyone would dare, setting down the tofu thoughtfully next to him. The wind blew in the right way. You smelled of fruit. “You are asking after my wellbeing because I was glaring?”

“Mhm,” You confirm, and take a step back to give him space. You clasped your hands together. “I am sorry if it is not okay to ask.”

Oh now why were you apologizing? Yes you were a little bewildering but you asking was at least showing you cared for the wellbeing of others, even it was terribly misplaced. You should not care for his wellbeing.

“It is fine,” He said carefully, looking at you again, golden gaze intense as ever but you did not waver under the sight, I ly meeting his gaze politely, “But do not trouble yourself. It's pointless to.”

To his further confusion, you looked like you wanted to argue, but instead you shrugged and smiled.

“If you say so. Enjoy your tofu!” And with that, you left perhaps a little hurriedly. No matter, he did not care if his answer displeased you, so why as he ate up his favorite meal, did he wish to know the cause of your fleeing as if you were retreating from a battle lost?

.

.

.

The dutiful Yaksha had begun to look forward to the elusive song every night. But tonight, the chilled, deceptively peaceful atmosphere of the marsh was disturbed by a scream.

Xiao followed it immediately. He was not far from the Inn and it had originated somewhere near-ish there, close enough to be where people were but far enough if something went awry it would be found out a little too late.

Now, contrary to popular belief, Xiao liked humans. Perhaps liked wasn't the right word, but it was one that best communicated how he felt about them. What kind of protector would be if he did not feel some measure of affection for those he so diligently looked out for?

But sometimes humans really did piss him off.

This was one of those occasions. Common thieves, they were, scoundrels who lived off dishonesty and were traversing the slippery slope close to the line between thief and something uglier.

They had all but assaulted you, taking the herbs you had been collecting for Yanxiao and were now currently demanding you give up your mora. Blood trickled from your nose from where you were so rudely and unjustifiably hit.

Before this absolute affront to all that is good and honest and you, you who did not deserve such treatment in any shape or form, Xiao appeared in a wisp of black-and-blue flames behind them.

Horrifying, he must've been, still in his mask, reeking of something awful from killing awful things, and you saw him first and gasped, looking at him with relief.

The thieves were in the ground in an instant, before they could act upon their visible fear. Guards were already circling down the path and they would take care of it. It was easy to incapacitate a human if you knew where to strike.

“Thank you,” You choked, holding a sleeve to your nose to stop the bleeding, a purple bruise forming on your face that did nothing to quell the indignant rage in him, though he kept it on a good and tight lid.

“Are you alright?” He asked you, voice echoing slightly through his mask.

“Yeah, they just got me in my face,” You sigh out, “My herbs …”

Your herbs were scattered in the ground. You look as if you might cry, cry over wasted herbs---just things you could replace so easily, he did not know why or what possessed you to do so. Maybe you were childish, though he considered that something rather scary happened.

They could've hurt you more, maybe worse, or pushed you in the cold river to try and cover up their tracks. He thinks you know that, he did.

“It will be fine,” He didn't like it. The tears in your eyes, or the way you shook slightly. He did not like how it yanked on his heartstrings, and he did not know how to make you stop in any beneficial way so he took you gently by the arm.

You froze, a little startled and for a brief panicked moment he thought maybe he had hurt you somehow, but you relaxed.

“I…I know but Yanxiao asked for them…” You were utterly defeated. Xiao hated it.

“He can wait. You shouldn't be out after dark.” He gently as he knew how reprimanded.

“...I'm sorry.”

There you go again, apologizing for no reason at all. Goodness.

“Do not be. Now you know.”

Without another word he whisked you away back to the Inn seamlessly, appearing on the deck. You stumbled a bit, shocked at the sudden movement and he gripped you a little tighter to keep you from falling, letting go as soon as you could stand.

“Thank you, Xiao,” You said quietly, looking at him again with that look.

“Don't thank me,” He says, face still hidden by his mask. He turned to leave again, back to his duties, perhaps back to that song.

“Why not?”

“Because it is pointless. I am only doing my job.”

“But it's a good job? And you rescued me---and you find those fights boring, don't you?”

Were you arguing with him? And how did you know he found combat with mortals too easy? Convenient yes, but at times it felt like a waste of skill---though on occasions of these, where one could not adequately defend themselves it didn't feel so without reason.

“...Yes. It's my duty. Do not thank me for that.”

You pursed your lips, expressions flitting across your face, a narrowed gaze. “How else am I supposed to express my gratitude?”

Archons!

“Almond Tofu.” He answered plainly. You smiled with a wince of pain.

“Perfect! I'll be right back, stay here!”

That's not what he---he watched helplessly as you disappeared. What of your nose? Why did he care, why---what were you?

Xiao wanted to leave, to go back out into the night, and in brief reprieve of monstrosity look for the source of the Song. But, despite this, he supposed it would mean something if he stayed. You did say you would be right back.

This consideration for your pointless show of gratitude was all Lumine’s fault.

Damn Outlanders!

He let his mask disappeared and tucked away his power, sitting on the railing. Than it happened again. The Song. The singing, the lullaby, and this time---it came from within the Inn.

He moved without thinking. He had to find it, he had to. This mysterious saving grace he surely didn't deserve but curiosity overwhelmed him, he had to! He---

There you were on the stairs, one hand holding a plate of Tofu, the other on the railing as you carefully climbed up. Your nose had stopped bleeding, so you had begun to sing. To sing.

It was you all along.

You looked up, and smiled, the song much to his agony, stopped.

“Here is your Almond Tofu, Xiao.”

And here was a thousand things stirring in him he didnt know how to name it what to do with, and most of all, he did not know what to do with the fact that it was you---someone who already made him feel all funny, were the source of his most welcomed relief.

[cookinguptales]

earlier today I fell down the absolute (white) rabbit hole that is disneyland "social clubs", which were these fan groups that used to be popular in the park that copied the rules and mannerisms of motorcycle gangs. so you'd just have these packs of (often drunk) disney superfans wandering around the park wearing denim vests with motorcycle-esque patches except they'd have the big bad wolf on them. or tinkerbell. or whatever.

yes, really.

and apparently most of them were friendly enough but there was still a real problem with them cutting lines, getting in squabbles with other groups, clogging ride queues, leaving huge messes for cast members to clean up, bullying members through the use of hierarchical rules, etc.

(typical group stuff.)

anyway, some of them started behaving really badly and one club ended up suing another club over an extortion racket (yes! really!) and I was reading a news article about it and it had probably the funniest line I've ever read in any news article in my life.

so apparently the leader of one club had threatened members of another club, saying if they didn't donate to his fundraiser he'd ruin them, and one of the ways he tried to do that was by shit-talking them on his disney podcast. he also bragged on this podcast that he was ducking the people they'd sent to serve him legal papers.

these podcasts were presented to the judge, which then led to this quote:

Judge Bauer said he tried to listen to the podcast but described it as “boring and a waste of time.”

and god, if that doesn't sum up most fandom in-fighting right there.