#he made so many jokes to his city and people continued to fall for them
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"blorbo from my degree" is not just a tumblr user thing. My medieval latin professor has a blorbo from his degree, he's called Boncompagno and he was a 13th century university professor. My professor wrote 32 books and articles (I personally counted them) about Boncompagno, translated his works and has talked about him for the last two lectures and idk when he will stop
#today he talked for 2 hours about the pranks that Boncompagno did to his collegues and to the entire city of Bologna#he made so many jokes to his city and people continued to fall for them#Boncompagno also listed a lot of ways that medieval italians used to talk about female genitalia#and wrote about his own dirty jokes#my prof is so in love with him and I understand why#blorbo from my degree#ibidem
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"WINNING"
Sun Wukong x Reader
Best friends to lovers
Confessions, Fluff, Wukong being a clingy and jealous idiot
Being best friends with the monkey king has it's cons and pros. The pros are being able to just hang out with Sun Wukong and his monkeys in Flower fruit mountain.
The breeze, the view, the peacefulness of the mountain itself felt like a dream not to mention his company, the laughs that you both share made you forget about your city life..
The cons? Him being a clingy baby towards you.
"Are there really other friends other than me?" Wukong asks again with a pout.
You two are currently having your daily hang outs underneath his peach tree near his humble abode, you two just rambling about random stuff until the topic of you being friends with other people came up.
"Yes? Why'd you ask? Ofcourse I have other friends, furball" You roll your eyes as you continue to eat an orange.
"But I'm your best friend right?" Wukong asks again.
"Ofcourse you are, I don't travel across an ocean for anyone else" You confirmed and he gave you a satisfied hum.
A comforting silence settles in-between them while you peel another orange for the monkey to take. He took it gladly, looking at it for a moment before taking a piece and eating it.
"Do you have other best friends?" Wukong raises his brow at you making you sigh.
"I mean... MK and Mei are my best friend, so yeah" You shrug at his question making him cross his arms together going back to his pouty self.
To you, this is just one if his antics to bug you but even if Wukong is acting like he's joking around, half of him was serious.
He looks up at you peeling another orange for yourself, totally oblivious to your surroundings not knowing how much the simian admired you.
He could not explain it what you have done to him, a spell? A cantation? Did you use some magical artifact that made his heart beat everytime you smile at him, that made him nervous everytime you come over even when you two have hung out almost everyday of the week, and how he'd melt from your touch or your laugh.
Knowing that there are many other people than him who is better for you, knowing that you wouldn't choose him cause he is nothing but your best friend made his heart ache.
He can't stand seeing you with someone else... He can't bare the feeling of you finding someone who is better than him.
Who could blame him? You're literally the most thoughtful person he has ever met, you always look out for people and you always find a way to make him laugh... You being the pretties person he met is just bonus.
While he's just the Monkey King... A mischievous demon.
He imagined every possibility of confessing his feelings to you, even just from thinking about it makes his heart sink.
Hey, even if he does get rejected, atleast a weight is lifted off of him, right? Right?
"Fine, fine they're an acception, but I'm special right?" Wukong asks again, desperately wanting you to say yes.
You gave him a stare before answering, "yes, furball, you're very special" it sounded sarcastic but it you know that it was genuine at heart.
"That means I'm your number one right? I mean, no one else is greater than me" Wukong says with a smug smirk.
"Don't worry, Wukong, you don't have to fight anyone to be in first place, you'll always be my first" You say, eating another orange.
Wukong looks at you with his eyes widening up from your response, his cheeks starts to turn red while he fidgets on the fruit.
There you again, saying stupid stuff to make him fall deeper with no sign of escaping...
"Well..." Wukong stayeds quiet for a few seconds, his heart beating loudly once again "what if I have competitions? Hm? What if there's other people wanting to be your first?"
"I don't think so..." You thought for a moment "you already won being my first place, my best friends of all my best friends, Are you that needy?"
"W-what?! No!" "Aww! The Monkey king is needy for a mortal's attention!"
Wukong's cheeks starts to spread across his cheeks to his ears while his tail flinches from your teasing.
He scratches his arms nervously, hesitating about confessing cause of you friendzoning him. Biting the inside of his cheek, overthinking about the whole situation.
"It's not that you dumbass!" Wukong shoves you away playfully, laughing a bit at your antics.
"Yeah... Yeah, sure, your highness"
"I'm just saying, what if I want to win more?" Wukong watches you peel another orange.
"What do you mean? What's there to win? You already won first place" "what if... I want to win you?"
You took a piece of an orange and looks at the monkey king in confusion, your cheeks grows pink from his explanation.
"What do you mean?" You put down your orange, giving your full attention to the monkey.
"What if..." Wukong voice falters softly as he stutters and looks down on the ground.
"What? I didn't hear you..."
Wukong took a moment, his heart starts to pound on how embarrassed and nervous he is, he tried to calm before looking up at you again.
Gosh... Those eyes are to melt for
"W-what if..." His words trails again, he scratches the back of his neck and swallows his pride "W... what if I want to win your heart?"
Your cheeks starts to fume red, you were too flustered to speak, opening and closing your mouth trying to think of what to say.
"What did you say?" You asked for a confirmation, still not believing that this is real.
"What if..." Wukong sighs out trying to compose himself.
"what if I want to win your heart? Your mind?" He repeats "your kiss...?"
You two took a moment, an awkward moment to realize what Wukong had just said. Both of your cheeks starts to get brighter.
"Uahaha! What came over me? I don't know either myself! I'm just joking though, don't mind me being a silly monkey--" "then win it"
"What?" Wukong gave you a dumbfounded look, the orange piece dropping to the ground, shocked at your answer.
"Then win it, win your kiss" You tease him again but inside you were panicking yourself.
You have no idea if the orange haired simian, your heart beats faster as your face flushes, it was hard for you to look up at his eyes but would you avoid this opportunity to finally having your crush's intention? I think not.
Even if it was playful flirting like what you two do from the past, you'd take the risk.
Wukong on the other hand is having a mental breakdown in his head, like little monkeys are running around his brain panicking on what to do or what to say.
His breath hitches before finally speaking up, "Can... Can I win it now?" He asked making you laugh a bit.
"You're... really impatient, aren't you?" "Shut up! I'm nervous okay?!"
You laugh a bit at his flustered state making him grumble under his breath, how come him? The Monkey King, one of the strongest being that could exist on earth feel so weak in your gaze?
"If you want to win, I'm not stopping you" you leaned forward, taking the sight of his red face into view.
Wukong felt himself get closer to you as he fixes your hair to get a better look at you [E/C] eyes and puts his hand on your cheek, his hands hesitating its every move.
His eyes shifted towards your lips and back at your eyes, finding a signal or anything that says 'kiss me'. You slightly nod for him.
His lips quivered as it presses on your's, a sigh of relief when he felt you kiss back. You could feel his tail wrapping itself around your waist as an attempt to pull you closer towards him.
The kiss was short, it was considered as a mere peck until he went in for another but this time it was lon.
Both of Wukong's hands on your cheeks held you in place, he is the monkey after all once he has what he wants he can't let it go.
He could feel his heartbeat ring through his ears as both your lips synchronized with one another, your hand wrapping around his wrist to convince him to keep going.
Yet he had to break the kiss for you both to catch some air, he smiles at seeing your flushed face, sighing at the feeling that he finally got to kiss the person he loves the most. He swears that the feeling of your kiss lingers even after pulling away.
You both looked at eachother's eyes as you lean into Wukong's hand feeling his rough warm hand on your cheek making him chuckle.
"Guess I won the kiss," Wukong says breathly, breaking the silence between both of you "I just have to win you now"
"To be honest, I should've win you first before winning the kiss" Wukong commented, wearing an awkward smile making you giggle.
"You furball..." You say, rolling your eyes before giving him a quick peck making him squeak in surprise by the sudden kiss, his cheeks flushing once again.
"You already did"
#lego monkie kid#lmk#lmk fanfiction#lmk sun wukong#sun wukong#sun wukong x reader#wukong x reader#lmk sun wukong x reader#x reader#x male reader#x female reader#lmk x reader#lego monkie kid x reader
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Peripheral of My Mind (Oneshot)
The General Mahamatra cannot get you out of his head, and it's troubling and embarrassing and wonderful.
Pairing: Cyno x Reader
•~°~•
The General Mahamatra prided himself in the ability to separate his work life from his non-work life---not that much existed of the latter. He was good at changing mindset, relaxing during breaks (destroying his colleagues and friends at TCG) and partaking in hobbies he enjoyed (telling jokes so bad people would beg the Archons to send them deaf).
Then you came into the mix. You made the lines Cyno carefully drew to help him separate the often brutal task of a Matra and well…being human, blur in an unprecedented way that was both pleasant in a strange twisted way, and incredibly annoying, even embarrassing.
You were a scholar at the Akademiya. You fell into the category of people Cyno must keep an eye on as a part of his job, however you also fell into another category of people which had a very short list of names. This shorter category of people were people Cyno decided he wouldn't have to worry about.
Tighnari was respectful of knowledge and such, and Alhaitham was rational and reliable, and ‘Hat Guy’ seemed too busy destroying his peers in verbal debates to consider trying anything drastic. And then there was you.
You were just you. Cyno was sure that you couldn’t commit a crime if you tried! With your luck, you’d probably run right into a Matra during a hypothetical crime. He couldn’t even think of a single scenario in which you would even want to---since your study was on rocks. What horrific crimes of forbidden knowledge could one want to pursue in the name of ‘greater good’ involving the forming of volcanic rock?
You being you in all of the pleasantness of one less soul to be concerned over…at least in the law sense, Cyno has saved you from many almost-falls down stairwells. This would not be an issue if the thoughts of you would just not follow him into his working hours.
When The General Mahamatra was set to work. thoughts of his social life were not on his mind. Any time not working on reports, participating in trials, investigating, patroling or tracking down wrong-doers during his working hours he contemplated and studied the law and the nature of the power that resided within him. If not that, meditation.
However even as he drags a sorry soul through the sand back towards Sumeru City, he could not help but think of you. Did you get any sleep today? Did you eat? What were you studying today, had you found anything that excited you particularly? Could he think of a pun that would elicit another delightful laugh from you?
“...That’s why it’s of the utmost importance! The Lesser Lord Kusanali would understand! It’s for the greater good!” The sorry soul begged as Cyno tugged him over the crest of an enormous sand dune with ease. The General snapped out of his thoughts, ever stoic gaze scarlet and hard as he looked over to his prisoner.
He had completely missed everything the foolish scholar had been saying. What were his excuses again? Cyno could probably guess.
“Save your pleadings for Lesser Lord Kusanali,” The General’s firm gaze and level voice shushed the wrong-doer, and they continued on their way through the hot desert. The new silence granted Cyno the quiet he needed to wrestle with himself to focus on the task ahead, and not you.
It seems he could not escape the thoughts of you. As he returned to Sumeru City and settled back into a more stable and familiar routine of reminding the Akademiya that law will be obeyed, you still danced in the corners of his mind. It was the most perplexing and frustrating thing, that you had somehow wormed your way past the barrier of his.
The halls of the palace stretched long and wide, warm Sumeru sun grazed his skin as he passed windows, dutiful on patrol. His route took him through the Akademiya and then the palace. Then his break would be in about three hours. He glanced out the window as he passed, noting where the sun hung in the azure sky above the trees, just to double check. He tried his best to contemplate today’s case, to use the new albeit same-y experience to enhance his watch, to better equip himself for future encounters but…
…You! You lingered there in his peripherals. He could not escape the thought of you, it was too tempting to dwell on. You looked holdable, Cyno thinks. Were you someone who would like to be held? What would your hands feel like in his? The thought alone is enough to make heat that was from the land’s natural temperature creep up his neck, to his face and ears, turning tawny skin a deeper shade.
A childish, silver-bell giggle interrupted The General’s thoughts. To his utter horror, Lesser Lord Kusanali had been walking down the hall, and he hadn’t even noticed. He paused, gripping his polearm and gave her a nod. “Lesser Lord Kusanali, may I help you?”
The fair-haired Dendro-Archon smiled, emerald-green eyes crinkling as she lifted a little hand and giggled again, “Oh nothing, General Mahamatra. I just can’t help but notice you seem distracted, is everything alright?”
Cyno’s ears burned, and he felt his mouth run dry. The only sign of anything amiss was the blush on his face and the split second he everted his sunset vermillion gaze away from his superior before he let out a soft breath, stealing himself. He was the General Mahamatra, he had spent years hardening himself to carry out the heavy burden in which he willfully took on.
“Everything is fine, Lesser Lord Kusanali, it has been a long day,” The excuse was good enough. He did just get back from tracking down a fool in the desert. Something flickered in the Archon’s eyes and the child, ever wise and intuitive, smiled sweetly up at him.
“Why don’t you take your break early, General? You’ve worked hard, you deserve it.” There was something in her tone---all the genuine fondness and kindness Archon Nahida was famous to have along with something else. Something knowing, almost teasing. What for?
Not one to argue with the Lesser Lord Kusanali, Cyno bowed his head, “Thank you, Lesser Lord Kusanali.”
In the most professional manner he could, Cyno fled, unable to comprehend why Archon Nahida was giggling to herself all the way down the hall. The General decided to use the break to get some food that wasn’t the rations he had to carry with him, and some water that wasn’t warm.
With helm and polearm set aside in his quarters he set off for his quest for food, stopping when he saw you. There you were, carrying books stacked precariously as you made your way down a small set of stairs. His heart raced as it often did just before combat and watched calmly as you struggled to make your way down, ready to leap into action.
“Hmm--oh hello General Mahamatra!” You smiled softly when you saw him, eyes alight in an expression no one else gave him. So many looked at him with indifference, weariness, fear, but you----that single expression on your face made Cyno feel like the most loved and important man in the world. “How was the--”
He was already moving as you missed a step, view blocked by your collection of books. He caught the tomes that slid off the top of your stack with one arm, and you with the other, arm out and kept you from falling face first into the rough, stone tile floor.
Your face darkened with blush and you laughed at yourself, and Cyno carefully stepped away, you and your holdable self with your holdable hands, with that sweet laughter and the presence that followed him frustratingly into every moment of his day, into the halls of secrets, into the world of law and justice, into the hot desert, into the dunes when it was cold and dark and quiet, you were there.
Right then and there, he decided there was nothing in this world that could keep you out of his working hours. He would just have to find a way to live with it.
The General insisted on carrying your books for you, making a dry, deadpan pun. One which you laughed at heartily, causing his face to heat up. As he followed you down the hall, he dearly hoped you had missed the way he looked at you longingly.
#genshin impact#genshin impact x reader#x reader#fanfic#drabble#cyno x reader#cyno genshin impact#genshin cyno#cyno#there is not enough cyno content and imma fix that
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Strawberry Milkshakes
Skater! Hobie Brown x Ballerina! Reader
He was a punk. She did ballet. What more can I say?
Thank you for your patience! Le college has been kicking my ah so I immensely appreciate it and of course a special thank you to my beta reader @hyperfix-wip
word count: 1508
warnings: feelings? snooty ballerinas?
~
Your limbs are sore but you find no complaint on your lips as you sit next to Hobie. The pain isn’t unbearable. Not in the way it usually is after hours of being in your pointe shoes. The leather of your skates somehow isn’t grating compared to the silk ribbons.
You never quite liked the quiet before. Yes the streets were full of cars and birds were chirping- but between the two of you not a word was said and it felt ok. No…expectations.
Adorning the pink leather bracelet he had given you, (that you haven’t taken off since first period) you trace the studs. Wondering what to say just to hear his voice again because though you may like the silence, you like the space he fills in your heart.
“I don’t think I fit in.” Spills from your lips and you’re not sure you’ll regret it until you see his response.
Hobie shifts his attention to you at the sound of your voice. He’s confused but more than willing to listen as he gestures for you to continue. Gravel crunches underneath his shoes. Beat up, bleached, and hidden under torn jeans.
“I know it isn’t true but it’s like all of these thoughts in my head are real possibilities.” You continued, tugging on a blade of grass. “I know I have a place here but what if that doesn’t matter? What if that changes and I’m left behind?” Rolling your feet back and forth anxiously you look toward the setting sun. You spent all afternoon with Hobie and yet it didn’t feel like enough. The hours went by too quickly for your own liking.
“I have friends but what do they think of me? Why do I feel so left out? Why am I always so scared they’ll pick someone else over me.”
When Hobie’s hand falls over your own you want to tug it away. You don’t want to be comforted. It makes you feel weak.
“What if I’m not good enough for anyone?”
Hobie taps on the back of your hand. Lips pursed. The sound of laughter mixes with the city noise. Kids playing on slides that still burned from the sun and created static that made their hair stand on end.
“It’s lonely.” He finally adds onto the conversation and judging by the look of confusion he receives it’s your turn to listen.
Hobie pulls his hand away. Setting his hand on the grip tape of his board. It digs into his palms but it distracts from the lump in his throat. “I mean, for everyone. No matter who you are, you never stop feeling like that.”
“Really?”
“Really,” he nods.
A shriek of glee causes you to turn your head but your eyes are back on Hobie within a second. You want to hold him. Indirectly comfort yourself by being able to support him.
You’ve seen so many different sides to him ever since you started meeting here.
From an outside perspective Hobie always seemed so confident and self-assured. Like he didn’t need anyone. You guess that’s why before the start of your friendship it was easy to follow along with your friends. Laugh at his expense. Joke because you were too much of a coward to express yourself the way he did. You’ll never forgive yourself for being so close minded but you’ll spend the rest of your time together making up for it.
“It’s complicated, for me.” His voice grew thicker. Like honey. But instead of the sweet taste meant to soothe it's the way it uncomfortable sticks to your fingers and clothes. “I’m so used to people bashing on me it’s just easier to block them out. So I don’t have to think about it.”
The sky grows pink and suddenly it’s harder to see but that doesn’t matter. There’s nowhere else you’d rather be.
“I don’t want to think about it.” Hobie says in a quiet voice. “All I’ve ever needed is me. Don’t want to admit I want more than that, y’know?”
“Yeah,” you answer. Eyes glossing over as you look away. “I do but…I don’t feel that way about you.”
Hobie’s chest feels tight while yours feels like it’s about to combust.
Hobie could fade out of existence or more specifically, your life after graduation. Less and less texts until he becomes an unknown number on your contact list. It’s just—Hobie Brown would never pretend to be something or hide from you. He was honest and kind and smart and oh…so wonderful.
What could he say in response to that? Hobie doesn’t know but he slides a hand around your waist and tugs you closer and this time, he doesn’t question what you are. He doesn’t guess what these frequent meetings have meant when you’ve answered his questions so perfectly.
Hobie presses his nose to your hair. He wants to kiss you but he doesn’t know if he should. So he settles for this.
He doesn’t want to go home and what can he do to prolong the inevitable? He perks up suddenly as he inhales your scent again. “Hey, want a strawberry shake? On me?”
Under the fluorescent light Hobie still looked beautiful to you. You find yourself wishing every night would end with the two of you under the stars even in this light polluted city.
“Yeah, sounds perfect.”
Hobie smiles. That lopsided smile that isn’t like the ones he normally gives at school.
He almost slips and you try not to laugh because he must have forgotten he was sitting on his board. You take his hand and slowly roll to his car. Let him sit you on the trunk and unlace your skates.
Your watch ticks five minutes past eight o’clock but you don’t care. Hobie is worth breaking your curfew.
-
The air conditioning hits you in a wave as you step foot inside the dinner. Reaching behind you, you already find Hobie’s fingers intertwined with your own.
“How many?”
“Two please.” Hobie responds to the waitress. Grinning, he notices the older woman glancing down at your hands. “Thanks Joan.”
She giggles and grabs a few menus. “Right this way.”
‘Joan?’ You mouth once her back is turned. You wouldn’t have pegged Hobie to have enough of a sweet tooth to be on a first name basis with her but to each their own you suppose.
“Written on her name tag love,” Hobie whispers. Tapping a finger of his chest and smiling when you falter in your step.
He’ll definitely be calling you that more often.
Before you can sit in the chair as opposed to the booth Hobie’s coaxing you into your seat. Squeezing your hand before sitting across from you in that same rocky chair that makes your back hurt.
You aren’t hungry and neither is Hobie so strawberry shakes are all you order and fries after you think about it for a moment.
You argue about the salty sweet combo of shakes and fries while Hobie pretends to gag. Nudging your foot under the table.
The sugar is the most satisfying thing you taste after such a long day. A tall glass of pink decorated in whipped cream and a cherry. Two, once Hobie plops his into your melting and quickly depleting shake.
It’s like you said, you don’t think about fitting into a mold or expectation. You just enjoy the happiness in his eyes and relax.
Someone plays the same song on the jukebox in the corner of the room for the second time. Chatter fills your ears and then voices you recognize.
Turning your head you spot your friends. Freshly out of practice. You can already feel their curious gazes. Questions upon question coupled with disbelief cleverly hidden under the guise of concern. You won’t shy away if they walk up, you aren’t ashamed nor will you ever be of Hobie Brown.
“You should go say hi.” Hobie chuckles while nudging your foot again to grab your attention.
“Mm, I’m happy right here.” You answer as your eyes meet again before you burst into laughter.
“What?” Hobie’s eyes widened, caught like a deer in headlights.
“You’ve got-” You wheeze as you tap your lip.
“Here?” He slowly grins. Purposefully missing when he wipes his thumb over his cheek.
“No,” you laugh harder.
“Here?”
“Oh my- hold still.”
Hobie leans forward happily on his elbows for you to clean the whipped cream on his lip.
“Thank you lovie.”
“Mhm.”
You don’t move your hand away. Instead you cradle his cheek. Looking at him like he was the only thing worth paying attention to in the room.
You’re startled when he scoots back abruptly. Even more so when his voice cracks as he asks for the check. Then he’s taking your hand and running out of the diner. It’s all so fast it’s enough to give you whiplash.
“What-?”
“I couldn’t do this in there.” He cuts you off before crashing his lips onto yours.
‘There is more that meets the eye, I see the soul that is inside’ - Avril Lavigne (sk8tor boy)
-
taglist: @insideoutjulie
#hobie brown#hobie brown x reader#across the spiderverse#atsv#atsv hobie#hobie x reader#hobie brown x you#spider punk x reader#spiderman atsv#spiderpunk#skater!hobie#ballerina!reader#highschool au#spiderpunk x reader#hobie x fem! reader#x female reader#x fem!reader#x female y/n#still working on other event fics! fwi#love you all!#hope you had a fun February
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cause you're sweet like a flower in bloom
pairing: Johnny Storm x fem!reader a/n: feeling inspired and also my crush on Johnny Storm has been relit (ha) so I've decided to write while it's good! this is a continuation after the first part, but can be read as a standalone. reader has the nickname specs and is female.
When you first met Johnny, you didn't see past the persona he puts on. The good looking guy who treats the whole world like his bachelor pad? It didn't help that he also openly flirted with you.
You remember that night clearly. Sue had invited you to a get-together at her and Reed's place. She originally wanted a more cozy dinner with just you, Reed, Ben, and Johnny. But you had told her that it made you nervous to be the only one of your coworkers that got to dine with her and her family.
So she pivoted. Made sure you didn't feel nervous. And you thanked her for it endlessly.
"What are you thinkin' about?" Johnny asks.
It pulls you out of your thoughts. In front of you is the view of the city. You two had both boarded the ferry in hopes of not going home just yet. You, beach you didn't want to think about work, and Johnny for another reason. A reason unbeknownst to you.
You look over at him. Taking him in for a few moments. His hair, his eyes. This guy is the full package and can get anyone he wants, so why the hell is he so bothered trying to hang out with you?
You crack a smile, "I'm thinking about the first time we met."
He shakes his head and looks away from you. You don't miss how the tips of his ears turn pink. Or how he starts interlacing his fingers together. Your eyebrow quirks up as you look away from him, back out to the water.
"Ya know I thought you had a boyfriend." he says.
That makes you cackle. You look back at him and find him looking at you already. With a hand over your mouth you look at him in disbelief.
"You were flirting with me so hard, and you thought I was taken?" you ask.
He shrugs his shoulders, "I mean, okay when you put it like that it makes it seems like I'm a would-be homewrecker."
You hum to yourself. He nudges your shoulder with his as he laughs.
"There were so many people you could've flirted with. Probably would've been in a relationship right now." you joke.
You don't mean it. Not that you don't think he could be in a relationship. Johnny is very much the type, even though he doesn't show it. But the subject is more complicated than a quick little joke and his whole playboy appearance.
"I'm taking my chances with you." he jokes back.
You snort, your eyes falling shut, and you hit him over his shoulder. As you laugh you lean you head back. Before you can hit the back of the headrest, you feel his hand come out and block it. He doesn't move it.
"I'm glad we hung out. I'm feeling less stressed." you admit.
"And I'm glad you don't consider this a date, because this is not my best." he says.
Your eyes go wide as you open them, "Johnny!"
In between the breeze that carries from the water, you realize how close you are to him. Even though the both of you are in separate seats your body are practically meeting in the middle. All you would have to do is lean over an inch or two more and you'd be touching him.
"When we go out on our first date, it's gonna be great. Might even sweep you off your feet." he vaguely explains.
A first date with Jonny Storm. If you had been told this a couple of months ago you would have laughed. Maybe you would have denied it ever happening too. But now, you like the idea of it.
"Your sister is my boss and mentor." you say.
Johnny shakes his head, "You're gonna work yourself into a tizzy, specs. I haven't taken you out yet."
"Yet." you repeat.
"That's right. I'm still planning. And hopefully you'll let me ask you and you won't avoid me again." he prods.
You smile softly. Avoiding Johnny was a hard task in itself. But now, knowing that he's going to ask you out one of these days? It'll be like pushing a boulder up a hill.
All your common sense tells you that it's unlikely the boulder will ever reach the top. Who were you to fight with the known laws of science?
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Ok, so! Besides the usual, “Of course Newt made it to the safe haven, what are you talking about?? What's page 250???” jokes, I've also seen a couple of posts recently by people who were annoyed that we literally refuse to accept this man's death. And so I throw my opinion into the void. Yes, I love fix-it fics and AUs where Newt lives. In fact, they're all canon to me. But! From an analytical standpoint, I bring this controversial (??) opinion:
Newt had to catch the Flare. He had to die.
In this slightly long and largely unedited essay, I will explain why…
Newt not being immune, besides adding emotional turmoil and intense pain to the story, also added humanity to the Flare, the disease that robs people of their humanity. The Cranks could be perceived as soulless monsters, obstacles, plot development and nothing more. We know that they theoretically used to be humans, and we feel pity for them on some level, but it’s not the focus of our attention. Newt changes that, because Newt is a Crank, and Newt is a human, and we love Newt. I’m aware that other characters were infected before Newt was (in the book all of the Gladers thought that they were infected and in the movie Winston and Brenda actually were), but I feel like Newt being such an important character and getting the virus really brought this point home.
The entire series revolves around the choice between two evils: let the world fall to disease, or torture children for a theoretical cure. Newt experienced both sides of the issues (fell to the disease AND was also tortured for research before that, the poor guy). He understood the need for a cure better than anyone, but he also knew exactly what WICKED would do to get it. And guess what? Torturing children is never ethical!
Newt couldn't live, because then it would just be Thomas and friends vs. the inferior losers with the Flare. Newt didn’t deserve to die, but his friends didn’t exactly deserve for him to live (though they didn’t deserve to lose him, either). The world is unfair, and they couldn’t win everything. This, again, shows the complexity of the issue, challenging Thomas's decision to leave the city and give up on the idea of a cure.
Another issue brought up by Newt's catching the Flare and his subsequent death is this continuous motif of memory and identity, which obviously played a huge role in the rest of the series as well (everyone losing their memories before the maze, writing their names on the wall, remembering all of their friends that died). Newt has always been selfless and caring, and this continues even as he begins to lose his sanity and himself. Newt wants to hang on to who he is rather than turning into a monster, and, ultimately, he chooses death over losing himself. He lives on in memory, though, as well as through his journal. There are so many other complexities to Newt's story; questions of identity, depression, selflessness, bottled emotions, and love. All of this immensely complicates his death, and the fact that it was technically suicide. It's so important to have characters like Newt in fiction, if only to explore the depths of these issues. So many of us can see so much of ourselves in Newt. His story might not give us all the answers, but it does give us a reason to hope.
The truth is that life is unfair. Newt's situation emphasizes how true this is in the story, humanizing the Flare virus and drawing a direct comparison between wicked's goal and the goal of the kids who are running from them. Our world today is similarly unfair, though obviously in different ways. There are challenges and setbacks and hurt, just like in the story, but Newt proves that these troubles aren't all that there is. We can't escape every problem, but we can make the most of what we do have. We can love and joke and laugh with others, even if the world is falling apart. The ending might be sad, but the pages in the middle can still make us smile, and maybe help us inspire the next person to do the same.
#guys you dont understand#maze runner is ruining my life#its consuming my brain like the flare#i cannot focus on anything else#it's becoming a problem#i love my sad dystopian men so much#anyway#tmr newt#tmr fandom#tmr#the maze runner#maze runner#maze runner movies#maze runner books#book analysis#movie analysis#character analysis#plot analysis#all the analysis cuz i don't know how to tag#bro idk anymore
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Changing Minds - Part 1

Summary: Your long time work acquaintance Nick Fowler offers to take you to a fancy fundraiser as a way of cheering you up. He insists it's only as friends but when he sees you falling into the grasp of someone he knows is no good, he might change his mind on that.
Word Count: ~1200
Warnings: Implied violence and attempted murder. Please let me know if I missed any.
A/N: Reader is an older female (late 30's +). This is part of the Garbage Men AU. I'm not yet sure if this will be a full series or just a two part story.
Part 2
Series Masterlist

Nick pulled up to the City Clerk’s offices. He had all the off times memorized so he could always get a good parking spot. He had some clues to follow up on with McMann.
He also had your work schedule memorized so he knew he'd get the right help. He once made the mistake of thinking someone else could help him while you were on vacation. Never again. Thankfully your quiet demeanor didn't seem to extend to him and you would let him know when you'd be out, barring a sick day here or there.
He’d asked you before about why you worked so many hours. “You have seniority here. Have some of the younger people work the overtime.”
“They’re just kids,” you chide him. “Let them enjoy life a little. If they want the overtime, they get it but I’m happy to see them actually having lives. If I can help keep the world from breaking them so quickly I’ll happily do it.”
Nick smiled at the memory of your conversation. The smile dropped when he walked up to your desk and noticed your red, puffy eyes; your trash bin filled with tissues. “What happened,” he asked.
“Oh,” you sniffle, “it’s just some allergies is all.”
“You’ve never had allergies before. What happened?”
“It doesn’t matter, Nick,” you objected. “Now, how can I help you?”
“You can help me by telling me what happened.”
You tried to stare him down but knew from experience it would be a losing battle. When Nick wanted answers, he got them somehow or another. You sag your shoulders and tell him, “you remember I was visiting family recently?” He nods. “I…my ex-boyfriend…hooked up with my sister. They got married last month and no one told me. It was a big wedding, too.”
Nick nods in sympathy, “no notice or anything. Doesn’t sound like good family to me.”
You agree, “and I know it shouldn’t bother me. He is an ex-boyfriend after all. But…it still hurts. My sister said they didn’t tell me because they didn’t want me to ruin their special day by being upset.” You laugh harshly, “I guess I’m just proving their point.”
“No,” Nick demurred. “They are in the wrong here. Someone should have at least told you they were together. I’m sorry they hurt you.”
You sniffle, “thanks Nick. It’s nice to have someone on my side.” You smile up at him and he smiles back. “Anyways, what are you here for? How can I help you?”
The two of you easily step into your usual work rhythm. You spend a couple hours finding all the documents Nick is looking for, getting them scanned, and everything else he needs. The work is intermingled with the occasional joke or story. You and Nick have gotten along well ever since he learned you could help him with the most detailed of requests. Where others would give him a binder to sort through, you seemed to always know where in the binder the exact information was. Nick appreciated that kind of skill.
As he’s wrapping to go he takes another glance at the tissues in your trash bin, a reminder of your tears and hurt. He turns to you and asks, “have you heard the phrase “the best revenge is living well”? It’s not the exact line, but you get the sentiment.” You shake your head no and he continues, “I know you don’t like hurting people but I don’t think you should wallow in your pain. Your best option to get revenge on your family for excluding you is to, well, live well. Show them they didn’t hurt you as much as they think.”
“That’s a nice idea, Nick, but my life is so dull I don’t know that I can.”
“Well,” he hesitates, “I’ve got a charity event coming up. It’s nothing too fancy, not a black-tie thing. But I could use a plus one.” Your eyebrows raise in surprise. “It’s not a date,” he quickly assures. “I just get tired of inane conversation and could use a friend to help me out.”
“Why go at all if you don’t enjoy it?”
“Work requirement. My bosses want me to schmooze a few people. Having you with me might actually be helpful. If you’re up for it.” You consider his words and he goes on, thinking to sweeten the deal, “the drinks are free, you can dress up, and maybe you’ll meet someone who’ll help you completely forget about that ex of yours.”
You smile, “you know what, Nick? That sounds absolutely lovely.”

The day of the event you get the notification from Nick telling you he’s outside your building. When you step outside he immediately spots you and his eyebrows raise.
“Is..is something wrong with my dress,” you ask.
“Not a thing,” he whispers. “I just…I never would’ve figured you to have something so…high class.”
“Oh, yeah,” you smile, heat hitting your cheeks. “I honestly was never expecting to have an opportunity to wear it. But sometimes you just need to treat yourself. I’d sometimes put the dress on and walk around my apartment just because it made me feel pretty.”
“Well, please allow me to confirm that you are very pretty,” Nick smiles as he opens the car door for you. You thank him as you get in, completely unaware of Nick’s internal dialogue about whether or not to make this an actual date.
Nick continues to be a gentleman as you arrive at the event. He opens your door for you and offers his arm to walk you inside. You eagerly accept, surprised at how beefy his arm feels. He generally wears long sleeves so you had no idea he was hiding so much muscle.
You walk inside and breathe a little easier when you see that Nick was right in saying it wasn’t an overly formal affair. Part of you had worried you would be under-dressed. Nick walks you around, showing you where things are (especially the open bar), and answering your questions about the event’s etiquette. Remembering that you’re supposed to be here as just friends, once you’re comfortable, you let Nick get to work and wander around on your own.
Nick is trying to focus on his work, getting intel and talking up influential people. But he makes sure to keep an eye out for you, making sure you’re having fun. He finishes up a conversation and hears you laughing loudly before quickly trying to muffle yourself. Nick smiles as he looks for you, but it quickly drops when he sees who you’re with.
Clark Kent, nicknamed Man of Steel because of his near monopoly of the industry. His union busting and bribery has kept him on top and made him richer than any one man should be. Nick’s been working for the Family to try to find anything that can bring him down. Unfortunately, he’s bulletproof. Nothing sticks and he gets to keep his incredibly clean record and reputation. And he’s chatting you up, making you laugh.

Part 2
Series Masterlist
Please let me know if you'd like to be tagged.
@alicedopey
#mob!nick fowler#mafia!nick fowler#nick fowler x reader#nick fowler x female reader#mafia au#dark!clark kent
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Light the Beacons
This isn’t HGE but it’s got a similar flavor. No idea where it came from. Might or might not continue it.
+++
“Enough of this.”
The battle was all but lost. Ice crept towards the castle in an oncoming wave of daggers, controlled by enemies that no mage could hope to face. The cruelties of winter, whispered about in the oldest stories, had revealed themselves at last.
To think, humanity once told stories of the walking trees, of the ancient monsters that hunted the furthest northern forests, and laughed to themselves that they had conquered the world.
That was before a war no one remembered any longer blackened the skies. Before the bombs fell. Before the summer became a story that they told in the same breath as fairytales. Before sunlight became rare, and precious, and barely warm enough to feel, but still so welcome.
That was before the monsters of legend crept back out of hiding. They ended the fight with their own glee at the scattered, broken, people who now fought to survive. People-eaters, many of them. Eager for new, weak prey that knew not how to battle them back.
Not all of the monsters were cruel though, and a few, a very few, were the saving of humanity in those early days.
Dryads could be bribed, sometimes. Them and the beings of the gentler lands. Cradled in humanity’s few bastions of light, where the sun showed itself sometimes, beneath the great swirling dust storms. Greenhouse domes provided food the world desperately needed, tended by people who once spent their lives on other things.
The monsters though, they returned as well, and they were a threat that humanity was not prepared for.
But even in the end of the world, love will find a way.
Helix, whose real name was unpronounceable by anyone with a human tongue, appeared first as a human among the masses of people seeking refuge in the great walled cities that rose up as humanity fortified. He was not the only inhuman creature to slip through the hasty safeguards that were put on the gates, but he was by far the most dangerous.
After all, a dragon was a formidable force and not one that could easily be faced, even by the few weapons the city still boasted.
It was fortunate that he was injured when he arrived, and the first person he met was the son of the mayor, who had been a doctor before the bombs fell, and survived the fallout only to spend his days working to help the needy who desperately prayed for any sense of the lives they once lived.
With gentle hands and kind jokes and an easy smile, Alexi made friends with what he thought was just one more person beneath his hands. With a softness few allowed themselves, he fell in love with a ragged young man who joined him in the medic tents and promised, oddly serious, that the city would never again need to fear the monsters beyond the walls.
It was an empty promise, Alexi thought at the time, but he accepted his new friend’s promises, and later his kisses when friendship turned to stealing what little happiness was left to them between long hours and desperate times. Alexi held his lover close when monsters stormed the walls and took comfort in the strange heat of Helix’s tall body as their death came towards them in unspeakable, howling throngs.
Until Helix turned, a strange, sad smile on his face as he kissed Alexi, slow and sweet and heartbreaking in a way that Alexi could not truly name.
“I promised you,” he had whispered, and then he stepped forward to the edge of the wall. “I promised this city would never fall.”
Alexi screamed his name when Helix leapt from the walls and screamed again for a different reason when his lover, tan-skinned and broad-shouldered, always too warm and with eyes that seemed to glow when the light hit them, wreathed himself in flames as he fell.
When he rose again, it was as a creature of myth, with fire between his teeth.
For all Alexi’s imaginings as a child, as he read books and watched movies that spoke of dragons, he never truly understood the power of a dragon in full rage.
Helix made pass after pass on blue wings, marked with ripples of silver that followed the edge of each scale until he almost resembled a flying treasure trove of sapphires, set in silver.
At least, he was silver, until he unleashed the fury of the fire in his chest, and turned his glittering silver edges to liquid gold, dancing in the heat of his flames.
The land around the city burned as he swooped low, white flames trailing from his jaws. The monsters cringed back and tried to flee, but he chased them, ignored the way they flung great spies at him. ignored the ruby blood that showered free when they scored hits that bit through even his sapphire armor.
The sky was orange now, the hot flames reflected off the ever-present haze until all the world seemed to burn.
It wasn’t until the monsters finally retreated, their numbers devastated by the flames of a single dragon who would not allow his home to fall, that Helix finally came to ground.
His cry of pain pushed Alexi through any fear he might have had, and he ran to his dragon’s side, his medical kit in one hand, and a blanket, for all the good it might do, in the other.
When Helix trembled, bloodied and exhausted but triumphant, at his approach, Alexi knew he made the right choice.
(Are you afraid of me now?) Helix whispered in his mind as Alexi tried to find some way to stem the blood from Helix’s many wounds, taken defending the people who now watched him in terror from the high walls. Walls which would do nothing against a dragon, but for that dragon’s love for them and the people within. (I am a monster like the ones you fear.)
“In scales or skin, you’re mine,” Alexi promised, surprised by his own fierceness and the truth of his words. He knew this man. This dragon. He knew how Helix kissed, and the way his blue eyes went soft when he played with the children, and the shine of fire on silver and sapphire scales. “I know you, in this form or any other.”
Helix huffed, something like a laugh if it was in a smaller body, and trembled again. At first, Alexi feared he was giving in to his injures, but instead, he was shrinking down, his scales fading away until there was nothing but torn clothing and tanned skin behind and Helix looked as he had when Alexi first met him, down in the hastily-built medical tents.
“This city and the people here are my Hoard and my treasure,” he whispered when Alexi wrapped the blanket around his shoulders and held his lover close despite the blood, and the way his skin was fever-hot with the fire inside him. “But you are my heart and I swear to you, no monster will ever come to this place again.”
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So I finally got my life together enough to continue my C3 watch... I'm still at 33, I've made more progress on C1 recently. Finally the combination of finding Mini Metro and actually logging onto Tumblr on the web made the barrier of watching Those Episodes bearable.
Spoilers for ep 33 and minor vibe spoilers for episodes in the future that I'm not sure of but its all stuff I absorbed via osmosis and fandom.
It's been almost a full year since these episodes came out and I was mindlessly scrolling Tumblr during my 10am linguistics lecture and stumbled upon everyone panicking because of the lack of diamonds for the amount of people who died. Anyway.
The anxiety of not quite remembering exactly I learned happened is not doing me any favors, but good god, I can really only handle some of this stuff not watching live.
Anyway, here are some assorted thoughts:
Liam you really did not have to make me Feel Things about Orym and his husband while Orym is passing out.
Laudna what is that spell that adds hit dice, that is So Good
Good GOD Otohan is not pulling any punches.
.....this is so close to TPK wow.....
Matt hesitating before essentially killing his wife's character, but doing it anyway.....
It's really interesting to see so many of them up and huddled around the map, things are really getting heated, with Liam just living behind Ashley and Laura's chairs.
"I don't want to be the only one not dead" followed immediately by "soometiiimees you gotta cut a bitch" Yes Travis, that is the correct energy to bring to this clusterfuck.
:OOOOO Not the natural 20 to fucking save Laudna
Begging the DM for the extra hit point like its gonna matter lmao
"I should be more complete at my job" Good GOD
The sending stone 😢
And there's the first one
"We've met before" 😒😒
The sense of failure, the bitersweet feeling of seeing Will and Derrik again 😢😢
I hate it for them that they are getting important lore while they are on the verge of a TPK and loosing their characters
and yet they make jokes like "we can't afford that Sam" to careless whisper
"He is not a creature at the moment" :O omg. Ow. God that hurts.
I gotta say, I'm really enjoying seeing all these hail mary type moves.
You really only see the uber creative dumb shit Hail Mary calls when things are extremely dire.
I love how Beau's voice and mannerisms sneak out a lot as bits and jokes
And there's the second
"That was a helluva run" 😢
"Embrace it or be culled like the rest" oh my god
"That brings us straight to your initiative because everyone else ahead of you is dead" Oh my god Matt
If this actually tpk'd, this would probably be in the running for the longest, most painful tpk. Usually its all at once, rocks fall, everyone dies, the dragon breath attack....
Something about Travis repeating "do you fight it" to laura is so sweet to me.
Also Imogen is making such a wild decision mid potentially worst day of her life omg.
"Save your last line, you might still have a chance" Damn Matt you didn't have to be Like That
"I give in, and I fuck Chetney" "We all do at some point" 🤣
"Is she your favorite" and the immediate "I'll go with you, I give in" oh my god. Having seen that clip of Laura being like 'I didn't know Imogen was in love with Laudna' oh my god the pining is there.
Oh shit the whole city is turning red.
And THATS the end..................
I was gonna go to bed but........ Maybe I can afford to make 1 poor decision
I love the friendship, everyone congratulating each other and matt, no hard feelings. But I wonder how many people are rolling up characters just in case cuz oh my god.
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Can't Help Falling In Love With You Chapter 9
Masterpost
Midorima's heart was pounding so hard he feared it would break his chest. You had casually asked him out the other day, texting him that you'd like to try to go out for a simple, casual date to test the waters. Obviously, Midorima immediately accepted the proposal. When discussing the details, he had promised to pick you up and you had expressed some worry, wondering if he was okay going to the worst area of Tokyo. A person could call Midorima many things, but a coward wasn't one of them. The first thing he noticed, was how much filthier things seemed to be on this side of the city. You could tell by entering the area that there seemed to be an aura of hopelessness and people had stopped caring. Criminals didn't immediately started crawling out of the woodworks though, it was relatively quiet in the area right now, the sole exception being the honking of a car that Midorima suspected had broken at least one traffic law at its speed. He rang the outside bell of the shabby apartment you lived in. Not long after, you came outside, dressed in a casual but elegant yet feminine style, looking as foreign to the background as he did. He recognized the hair ribbon you were wearing from school though. "Hello, is it okay if I call you Shintaro? It's weird to be on a date and call you by your first name." You stated as you greeted him and Midorima's head was spinning from the way you pronounced his name. "Of course, nandayo!" He blurted out with a slight blush. You smiled warmly, "You can call me Y/n too." Midorima nodded, still red faced as he gestured towards the cart that Takao often drove him around in. "Today, I will be your driver." You giggled at the sight, and shook your head. "You're kidding me!" "I'm not, nandayo. If you wish to test the waters to date and be in a relationship with me, you should be aware that I will spoil you as you deserve." The sweetness of his answer made you giggle once more, and it was then, when you looked into the cart and spotted a scarf with adorable kitty paw print, and following Oh Asa out of curiosity due to Midorima you knew your lucky item of the day was a clothing article with cat print. "I'm already wearing my cat print socks, but it's wonderful you thought of me." You said, picking up the scarf and wrapping it around your neck. You sniffed the material and it smelled fresh and new. "It was only right, nandayo. Now get in, we're going for the best lunch you've ever had."
You were surpised that you got Midorima to actually laugh at one of your jokes, he seemed to have something so reserved and stoic sometimes that it surprised you he did have a sense of humor. Sure, it felt like a bit of a reversel of the gender stereotype, with you making most of the jokes and he being the one laughing all the time, but you didn't mind. You felt embarassed about Midorima paying for everything, and in a surpsing move of emotional intelligence, he had ordered simple croissants and your favorite blend of tea alongside his own. Definitely not pricy enough to make you feel guilty. Midorima definitely was more then he let on, and you really liked it. "Though," Midorima said as he recovered, "I would certainly not mind if I could put Takao on a space ship." Now it was your turn to laugh as you imagined poor Takao being sent off to Mars. "Do you really think he's that annoying?" "Yes, but the unfortunate thing is that he grows on me like a disease nandayo." You hiccuped from the giggles once more, your eyes getting watery. "Well, you really do seem like you're getting corrupted by fungi," You said, stressing on the 'fun' for a pun. Midorima snorted. "As if I can help it when the fungi is this stubborn." "Let's hope your next lucky item are cleaning wipes." You continued to joke around as if you were on crack, something about the light, goofy mood just being electric. You realized then, that without a doubt, you were actually falling for Midorima.
#knb#kuroko's basketball#knb x reader#midorima shintarou#midorima x reader#knb midorima#shintaro midorima#first date#takao kazunari
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Mass Effect 2 replay, part two of the Citadel:
-First time I’ve corrupted a save. I loaded falling through the Citadel background. I had to revert to a backup save and replay through the Council meeting yet again.
-I’m continuing my girl squad in ME2: I’m taking Miranda and Kasumi with me through this run. I’ve never taken either of them with me before, and they’ve both grown on me in past playthroughs.
I also just realized that I’m taking a human only squad with me in the human supremacy game. Uh. In my defense, past playthroughs have always had two aliens as squadmates.
-The running joke that the shopkeepers are only there to mind the shop and provide customer support is amusing. All sales are made through the terminal. Was this parodying something?
-The turian who loves his shotgun is also a winner. I always make sure sure to hear the full cycle of his dialogue.
-So post Battle of the Citadel, citizens are no longer permitted to carry weapons.
This can’t possibly be the first disaster the Citadel has been through. Does it go through cycles where weapons are banned, restrictions are loosened, then they’re banned again?
-Gotta love that the turian weapon shop keeper sells “experiences” (i.e, vacations) that involve people dying. Their deaths just heighten the intensity. No wonder the community is small.
-Paragon Shepard is such a sell out in ME2. But money is scarce. I wish this would come back to haunt Shepard somehow in ME3. I’ve seen some great suggestions.
-The writing for the most of of the Citadel is great. The salarian games salesman and the Tupari sales machine both have hilarious – and numerous! - lines. Someone was clearly having a good time. You won’t hear most of them in a normal playthrough unless you intentionally trigger them.
-ME1 played up the tensions between humans and turians, especially on the Citadel – you didn’t even see turians in the wards until you hit the marketplace.
Not so here. There are turian-human pairs all over the place.
Inadvertent change in tone, or intentionally reflecting the change in how humanity is viewed after the Battle of Citadel? You decide.
-Another contrast is with the Presidum bartender in ME1 and the Dark Star bartender in ME2.
Presidium bartender gave you an overview of the Citadel; Dark Star bartender tells you to check the news and wonders why humans keep asking what’s up.
-The bar does not have separate bathrooms for different genders.
Is that the norm in public areas? Given asari are mono-gender and the other species have who knows what going on (I’m assuming the Alliance defaults to he/she like they do asari, but the reality is more complex) it’s probably practical to have one bathroom and call it a day.
Humanity still differentiates, however – the Normandy has separate bathrooms for men and women.
-The Citadel and Omega bars indicate how different Shepard is from other humans now. Probably not unintentional that a player is likely to visit at least one early in the game.
On the Citadel, Shepard downs many drinks that the bartender repeatedly says they’ve never seen anyone handle.
On Omega, Shepard gets poisoned. The poison has killed every other human.
The game doesn’t linger on it, but these definitely show that Shepard is no longer “normal”.
-Why is the Presidium groundskeeper in armor when all the other turians in the bar are in casual clothes. What’s happening on the Presidium that requires him to wear armor?
-The Citadel requires permits for pets. I suspect that’s as successful as most cities that insist you need a license for your pet. There must be unregistered pets everywhere, especially in poorer areas.
-The volus used ship shopkeeper mentions Unification Day sales. Is that supposed to the day to celebrate the end of the Unification Wars? Well, the volus are a client race of the turians.
-All turians shuttles can fit a light mass accelerator canon. Of course they can. Why am I even surprised?
What I will ask is why those are permitted, but you can’t carry a pistol.
-The Level 26 ads are notably targeted for a poorer audience. Pawn shops, work arounds for shitty extranet connections, discount shops, etc.
-Ad by C-sec: If you see a synthetic unaccompanied by an organic owner...
Hoo boy, that’s some loaded language. I see Mass Effect is still leaning hard into the slavery parallels.
-In Saronis Applications, an elcor hacked their translator so they can control what emotions are attributed to their speech. Good for them. I wonder how common that is? It would be very useful.
-Gotta love Kion Louros thowing shade at the Sirta Foundation for always hiring asari shop keepers when they’re a human organization. I bet that’s a common tactic much derided by asari.
-For my sanity, I credit the Sirta Foundation for making some kind of improvement to medigel, not inventing it. Maybe they invented the means to easily store or apply it.
I struggle to believe there have been multiple space faring species for millennia and none of them developed medigel before. That just strains my credibility past believing.
-The incident with the volus accusing the quarian of stealing his credit chit and C-Sec then threatening the quarian with a vagrancy charge after she’s proven innocent is both very believable and incredibly sad.
And this, by the way Bailey, is why ignoring formalities is bad. It makes these kind of abuses of power too easy. I don’t doubt that prejudices are baked into the system, but normally some kind of protections are too.
After you’ve ignored the book to beat a confession out a prisoner, what’s an unwarranted vagrancy charge on top of that?
-Odd for the volus to call the quarian clanless. Quarians are close-knit; clanless isn’t what I’d call them.
-Yep, clanless is an insult. Probably one of the worst volus have. The volus used ship shopkeeper referred to her as migrant clan.
-Going renegade with the krogans so one pays you for the Presidium “fish” makes me feel so dirty. Going paragon might break his heart, but at least I’m not fleecing him for a false fish. :/
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The Fall of Fair City - Chapter 21
Any bravado Dr. Two Brains tried to display when demanding answers was rapidly depleting from him, being replaced with fear as Steven calmly approached him, bent down, and got right into Two Brains face bearing an all to familiar malevolent grin with piercing dark eyes he saw once before. Whether it was from a dream or memory, Two Brains knew that the person before him wasn't his good side, but at the same time, he could not recall the figure before him. "I have been dormant for far too long Dr. Two Brains." The figure bearing Steven Boxleitner's face spoke. "The villains here and even you have so much potential, but it is sadly being wasted away by the idiotic imps that run this waste of a city. What's worse is that these same people think they can just hide behind their own crimes and get away with presenting themselves as the good guys while open more honest villains are treated as scum. Oh sure people have celebrity views of the villains here, but at the end of the day, you and your friends are always viewed with disgust, disdain and fear despite you mischief making." "Steven" then got slowly up and out of Two Brains face and walked toward a comfy chair. He casually placed his hand on it and rubbed it along the soft material, back and forth, with a bored expression as if he didn't have anything diabolical going on in his mind. "It's time this city fell into different hands, or maybe just fall entirely." "Steven" chuckled as if laughing at a morbid joke. "Once I come into action, the people of this city will really have something to be afraid of. A fear that will haunt them for the rest of their lives." "Steven" gave a dark gleeful smile which chilled the trapped mad scientist and lab mouse. "Wha...what are you going to do?" Dr. Two Brains asked sounding more scared than when Miss Power came along. "Steven" rapidly swerved his head to face the mad scientist, once more, bearing that malevolent, psychotic grin and expression that haunted Two Brains' in his nightmares. "Tsk Tsk. Oh Dr. Two Brains." The malevolent entity began to chastise the mad scientist. "The question you should be asking is what are WE going to do to this city?" Dr. Two Brains gulped in apprehension. He gazed once more towards Squeaky. The mouse said nothing as the rodent continued to shake in fear. Even though they couldn't understand each other at the moment, Dr. Two Brains had a gut feeling that he and Squeaky were thinking the same thing. They were in deep trouble now. Fair City Courthouse - Few days later Judge Randall Homesfield was a patient and fair man. For 25 years, he has resided over the conduction of many criminals and villains that dared to break the law in Fair City. Ever since he took the post at age 32, Randall Homesfield has grown used to revolving door of various offenders that entered his court, ranging from the common jaywalker to a man who steals and attacks with a condiment ray. Homesfield took pride in his reputation as the judge who makes the final say that maintains the balance of justice along with living the picturesque life of a loving and loyal family man. Today was no different as District Attorney Sally Botsford had just finished her closing arguments in proving that the notorious villain known as The Butcher, was clearly guilty of robbing once again, Fair City's main bank. The villain had used sculptures made of delectable meat to distract hungry security and tellers while he snuck into the vaults to grab the cash. The Butcher would have almost gotten away with it if it weren't for Wordgirl and Captian Huggy Face showing up to stop him. Now Judge Homesfield, Mrs. Botsford, and the nervous looking Butcher were waiting for the jury to return to their seats and give the judge the final verdict on whether they have determined from the evidence should The Butcher be guilty or not. Neither Mrs. Botsford nor Judge Homesfield were worried. Unlike The Butcher, they both knew that the jury's decision would go in favor for the justice system. @melodythebunny @dualnaturedscientist
#wordgirl#wordgirl au#the fall of fair city#steven boxleitner#dr two brains#squeaky#time skip#the butcher#sally botsford#wordgirl oc#Judge Randall Homesfield#bob/captain huggy face
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Arturo Toscanini in 1898:
"By Heaven! If this Neapolitan continues to sing like this, he will make the whole world talk about him."
Beniamino Gigli:
"I wonder what would have become of me if, like him, I had been born in a city slum; for I did not have the gifts of personality that enabled Caruso to create life and warmth around him wherever he went."
Bruno Walter:
"I loved his voice, his talent, the sense of beauty expressed in his nuances of timbre, his portamento and rubato, his great musicality and naturalness, and we got along so well."
Caruso about his first teacher:
"It was he [Guglielmo Vergine] who impressed, time and again, the necessity of singing as nature intended, and - I remember - he constantly warned, don't let the public know that you work. So I went slowly. I never forced the voice."
Caruso about his performance:
"I know that I shall sing only a certain number of times. So I think to myself, "Tonight I will hold back my voice. I will save it a little and that will mean I may be able to sing a few more times." But when I go before the audience, when I hear the music and begin to sing, I cannot hold back. I give the best there is in me - I give all."
Caruso about his singing:
"I suffer so much in this life. That is what they [the audience] are feeling when I sing, that is why they cry. People who felt nothing in this life cannot sing."
Caruso about Nellie Melba and Melba about Caruso:
Not a quote but an action. The Australian soprano Nellie Melba was notorius for her ruthlessness and coldness. Performing with her in La Bohème Caruso, as a joke, pressed a hot sausage into her hand that he'd hidden in his pocket as he sang "Che gelida manina, se la lasci riscaldar."("What a cold little hand, let me warm it"). She had considered Caruso coarse and uncultivated and this, of course, only confirmed that ... Melba, however, was impressed with Caruso's voice and wrote in her autobiography (Melodies and Memories): "As a voice - pure and simple - his was the most wonderful tenor I ever heard."
Geraldine Farrar:
“There are two singers you must put aside, one is Enrico Caruso, the other is Rosa Ponselle. Then you may begin to discuss all the others!”
Giovanni Martinelli about Caruso:
At a party an overdressed flamboyant woman persisted in demanding answers from Giovanni Martinelli to questions in a loud voice to attract attention. Finally she said, “Come now, Mr. Martinelli, tell us the truth – Caruso was never as good as his press made him to be, is that not the truth.” Martinelli swung around and faced his tormentor. “Madame”, he declared in his accented, but thoroughly accurate English, “Put Gigli, Lauri-Volpi and me together – make us one tenor – and we would not be fit to kiss Caruso’s shoe tops”. “Does that answer you?”
Guilio Gatti-Casazza (director of the Metropolitan Opera):
"I heard all the great tenors of my time over and over again. Many of them were wonderful artists and had extraordinary voices. But in my opinion, not a single one of them ever sang an entire role with such vocal and artistic consistency as Caruso."
John McCormack about Caruso's voice:
"36 years later that voice still rings in my ears, the memory of it will never die."
Richard Strauss in excitement after hearing Caruso the first time:
"He is singing the soul (spirit) of the melody!"
Rosa Ponselle:
"When you speak of tenors, you have to divide them into two groups. Caruso in the first group. All the others are in the second."
The soprano Geraldine Farrar writes in her biography that she, the first time she stood on stage with Caruso, forgot to sing as she had broken into tears from the beauty of Caruso's voice.
"I have seen him sob for five minutes in his dressing room after the first act [of Pagliacci]; I have seen him fall on the stage, faint from emotion; and I have also seen him come off whistling gaily and joking with the chorus. Whatever his own emotions were, his audience was invariably overwhelmed. I asked him to explain the secret of this power. He said, "I suffer so much in this life, Doro. That is what they feeling when I sing, that is why they cry. People who felt nothing in this life cannot sing."From "Enrico Caruso - His Life and Death" by Dorothy Caruso.
#opera#classical music#music history#bel canto#composer#classical composer#aria#classical studies#Enrico Caruso#Caruso#tenor#lyric tenor#dramatic tenor#Metropolitan Opera#Met#La Scala#Bolshoi Theatre#Mariinsky Theatre#His Majesty's Theatre#Her Majesty's Theatre#classical singer#classical singing#opera singer#chest voice#classical history#classical musician#classical musicians#musician#musicians#mestro
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DWC #4
@daily-writing-challenge
Day 4: Vengeance & Satisfaction
Day had broken, and the two lovebirds had been hurried out of the city. The long walk back to camp had begun. The winding stone stairs that led out of Valdrakken went on and on, the warmth of the morning sun began to pierce past the stone spires and illuminated the path forward. Urbanisation gave way to the rural fields and grasslands. Safely out of the city limits, Senko ran a thumb over a purple crystal in her many pouches. A green rift broke through reality, spewing forth a twitchy imp.
“HI FRENS.” The imp shouted, as loud as a direhorn in a pottery store.
“Hello, Pippy.” Senko said, giving the little creature a pat on the head before handing him some bags to carry. “Would you mind helping out?”
The imp, immediately, took the bags and shoved his head into them. The imp was more cat than fiend in more than one way. His spindly tail swept cross the dusted roads before picking the bags up and helping to carry them along. The two vixens held hands as they walked across country. The stones had given way to dirt paths, crudely made from foot traffic of the centaurs and drakonids. As they crossed into the Ohn’ahran Plains once more, they stopped by a small pond for a midday rest.
A serene body of water, tucked away behind blades of grass was the perfect spot for some respite. As the two sat down, Senko took her fiancée into an embrace by the water’s edge. The peaceful moment broke when Oonee asked a question.
“That story Vedda told last night… Do you remember much of it, darling?” She asked, her eyes looking up past the wooden frame of her mask.
“Bits and pieces. A fanciful myth, to be sure.” Senko mused, rubbing Oonee’s shoulder as she gazed across the pond.
“Do you think he knows?” Oonee asked back.
“Probably. I spoke to him years ago about the things I did in Vol’dun, but I don’t think he ever learnt the extent of it. Few do.” Senko replied, watching as Piprot placed down the bags by her feet before splashing in the water.
“Has anyone ever tried to-… you know?” Oonee asked, lifting her mask up which splayed her ears.
“Once. A frost troll. Didn’t end well for him. I suspect most people feel that the bounty isn’t eligible for cash-ins anymore.” She stated, idly throwing a pebble across the tort water surface. “You have nothing to worry about, my dear. They won’t even lay a finger on you.”
Oonee’s quietness broke with a quiet giggle. “It’s not me I’m worried about. I don’t want to be a widow.” She said, her joke belying a fear.
“I always come back, my love. There is no need to worry.” Senko affirmed, plucking a wild flower and placed it behind one of Oonee’s ears.
A few minutes pass before the two rose back to their feet, having rested up. Piprot frowned as he swam back to shore and frowned even harder when he was told he couldn’t bring the duck home with him. He placed it back in the water, the solemn ‘quack’ that broke the imp’s heart before he picked up the bags and went off on his merry little way once more.
“So, what happened to the troll anyways? I don’t think you ever spoke about them.” Oonee asked, canting her head. “Then again, you do like your secrets.” She mused, giving a playful nudge into Senko’s ribs.
“Well, he didn’t last too long in a fight. I let him go, I’ve no beef with them.”
FIVE YEARS AGO, VOL’DUN
The table shook with anger as Ts’kon’s fist slammed into the crudely crafted drywood. Two years had past since his pact with the Fangcaller and he was still no closer to the imperial throne. He plucked a splinter from his hand before snarling and hissing in both parts rage and pain.
“How!” He yelled to himself. “How could one rat-“
“Technically, dey be more like foxes.” A voice interrupted the Viceroy.
“I don’t care what they are! Thisss Drakkari wass perfect for the job, and he got he got humiliated!”
The dark halls of the burrows continued to fall into disrepair. With each outburst of emotion, dust and plaster fell from the roof. The contingent of guards had slowly dissipated over the years to just a few handfuls of foot soldiers. Lousy ones at that too, they spent their time drinking and gambling. Loitering in the corridors.
“I am beginning to think you’re just here to ssssee me ssssquirm, Tuk’rakthul. You’ve done nothing to help the caussssse for agessss! I ssshould ssstick you where you ssssta-“
The Viceroy was cut off by a booming, ethereal laugh. The Zandalari was raucous, hand on stomach as his laughter drowned out the Sethrak’s complaints before ceasing. His misty, old eyes shot down at the serpent.
“If you be trying ta kill me through laughter, you might have succeeded, snake.” Tuk’rakthul replied, placing a firm grasp onto the viceroy’s shoulder. “Do you tink I be afraid of you?”
Ts’kon tried to speak, his words stuttered as he felt the sheer weight press onto his lithe frame.
“I be wantin’ a… resolution to dis problem too, but perhaps bounty hunters be not de right play.” He spoke, his hand still clamped like a vice on the Sethrak.
“Then what do you ssssuggessst?” Ts’kon hissed back, wrenching himself free of the troll’s grasp. “Enlighten me.” He furthered, forked tongue laced with cynicism.
“De bounty hunters be too-… flaky. Dey are motivated by greed, not cause. Your ‘empire’ is a joke, Viceroy. We all know it. Which is why you need to look inwardly.” Tuk’rakthul said, the demoniac dusting his hand on the sea-blue robes.
At first, Viceroy Ts’kon was enraged at having his nation besmirched. But he knew it was the truth. Everything the Zandalari had said was true over the course of two years. He thought, by now, the professor of the dark arts would have made a slip. Yet he didn’t. He was consistent. Infuriatingly so.
“Muster ya forces, Viceroy. Dis be a matter only you snakemen can deal with. I will deal with the Fangcaller, make her see tings from our point o’ view.” The troll said, walking out of the room. He paused, turning over his shoulder. “And Ts’kon? That dagger you be hiding, it is too blunt to pierce the skin of a troll. Try harder, next time.”
As the Zandalari walked out of the room, the Viceroy gasped in shock. He dropped a crude knife to the floor that cluttered and clanged. His every move, his every impulse – even the unchoreographed, was known. Just who was this troll?
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would you be willing to do palm kisses for zombie au? holding hands during a stressful situation and palm kisses? i just really the world you built for the zombie au and hope this is something worthy of your writing energy.
hi!!! thank you sm for your request, hope this is OK! tw general apocalypse hardship + r falls n cuts her head ♥︎ fem!reader
There are people hunting you.
At first, you and Steve can't really believe it. You're on a steady course toward the city after a couple of weeks scraping together food, looking for any sign at all of civilization. Of his friends.
You've told Steve too many times that you'll follow where he goes, no matter what, for as long as he can stand you. And at first he'd joked that might not be very long. These days he just squeezes your hand or your arm or your shoulder and says, "Forever, then."
It happens too often, the sound of a gunshot that travels, smoke from a campfire not far behind. You and Steve are on the same page about it — whether friend or foe, you have to be careful. Letting your guard down now would be the stupid thing to do. You've survived for months now together, through hordes of zombies and unfortunate accidents, the time you got locked into a walk-in freezer with a zombie, and the time you fell ten feet through the floor of a dilapidated townhouse and survived the concussion from hell. Wasting all these second chances to try and broker contact with whoever it is that's following you would be childish.
Steve holds out his hand to help you over a ditch. Seemingly man-made, though it could've been a tributary run dry.
"Careful," he says, smiling, "it's slippery."
"Don't let me fall."
"No, I won't," he assures you, offering his second hand as you step across. You take it and he pulls you over, making one of his happier sounds.
You could communicate through sounds alone with him now. At first, Steve hadn't spoken much. Shell-shock, you'd summarised. He was agitated, angry, and scared, though he the latter well. He was trying his best to get you both through circumstances nobody has ever had to go through, and you'll admit you were more of a burden than a help at first, so you won't blame him for being so stressed. You've learned a lot now, how to defend yourself and how to defend him.
His sounds continue and you translate as best as you can. This one's pleased. It's practically a well done.
"Do you think we should zig zag again?" you ask.
"You read my mind." He pulls the strap of your backpack into place over your shoulder and starts to walk again, your fingers intertwined, joined hands a tether. "I think… Maybe it would be a good idea to find somewhere to hide."
"We don't know if these creeps are watching us. What if we hide and they box us in?"
Steve's grip on your hand tightens. "I don't like being out here. The cold will kill us before they do."
He's right. And you're right too. The cold will kill you, and whoever it is that's expending the incredible effort it is to follow you around will probably kill you too if they find you. You've done well in evading by keeping strict time, sleeping for only a handful of hours before you're on the run again, but you can't cover your tracks well. The campfire at night gives you away, yet without it you'll freeze to death.
You're fucking terrified. Steve hasn't shown it, but you figure he must be too. What could it be worth to follow you like this? You're only two people.
You bite your cheek hard and wince, startled at your own thoughts. What could you be worth? Beyond your packs, all you have are your bodies. A sinkhole opens beneath you and swallows you whole, a thousand scary visions flashing quick like pictures on a projector. They want to hurt you. They must. And there are a lot of ways to do it.
"Maybe we should hide," you say quietly.
Steve rubs the back of your hand with his thumb. "Whatever we do, we just gotta be smarter about it than they are. Every night we practically lead them to us with the fire, so. If we get inside, we won't need that, but-" He looks forward toward the horizon, where you can just barely make out the shadowy impressions of buildings at the end of the highway. "I don't think we're gonna get there any time soon."
Like he can feel your anxiety, he adds, "They're slowed down by all the same stuff as us. That's not gonna change. Maybe a geek'll do us a favour and eat them before-" He drops off.
"Before what?"
You're side by side now. He turns his face to yours. "I don't know. Before we run into bad luck, I guess."
You walk in silence for a few seconds, and then you nod and swing his hand. "Bad luck, us?"
"My sarcasm is corrupting you."
Sarcasm, maybe. You jinx yourselves.
Steve is clearing a place for the night. There's not much you can do besides sweep aside the bigger twigs and lay your tarp to try to cut the cold. Now that you're comfortable practically climbing on top of one another every night you're warmer, but the earth soaks up cold, and it's unforgiving.
You don't know how it happens, how they manage to catch up, but suddenly there's laughter from not far away, and it isn't the fun kind. Far from Steve's light and bubbly chuckle or your own loud, clumsy giggling, this laugh is cruel. This laugh is winning.
Steve doesn't even stop to roll up the tarp. A branch snaps like a firework through the trees and you both flinch to one another. He takes your hand.
"We're gonna run," he says, more calmly than you'd expect from him.
You run. Rucksacks pulled tight to your bodies, linked by trembling fingers curled aching around each others, you run through the trees. The sun sinks low toward the horizon and through the silhouette of the city like a drunken lover coming home; slowly, so slowly, a wobbling egg yolk dripping down, and then it's fallen to the floor and disappeared in a queasy flash.
You can see enough to race around trees, up slopes, enough to see the highway a couple hundred yards to the right, and to see Steve's hand in yours swinging in front of you both as you sprint. His breaths come loud, gasping, and you realise you should be taking bigger breaths too as a stitch starts to form. You run through it, you don't mention it, horrified at the idea of stopping even for a second.
Each step burns, and the heavy weight of your pack digs into your shoulders. The light fades more and more and soon you feel like you and Steve are stumbling blind, wondering how much longer you can last. You'd never have thought before all of this that your endurance would stretch so far, but the difference sometimes between life and death is the strength to keep running.
You trip on a tree root and tumble forward, going fast enough to feel your feet leave the ground. Your breath catches, any air that had managed to sink into your desperate lungs punching out of you instantly.
"You're okay," Steve says quickly, though he can't know. "You're okay." His hand hook under your armpits and he drags your shaking body behind the too-skinny trunk of a tree, the roots you'd tripped on like ice under your thighs.
You try to look at him and find yourself blind in one eye.
"Steve," you say pathetically, hand flying to your face.
"Shh, shh," he shushes, a distinct trembling in his voice. "It's okay. You're okay."
"My eye-"
He holds his hand over your mouth. You pant through your nose and squirm, but he only presses down harder, so hard your teeth hurt.
"I'm sorry," he pleads desperately, a whisper, "I'm so sorry, you need to be quiet."
You whimper into his palm.
"You're bleeding," he whispers. He opens his mouth to continue but stops, head tilted to one side, listening. When he doesn't hear anything, he continues, "You're bleeding from a cut on your forehead. It's in your eye. It's-" He swallows hard. "It's all over you."
His hand softens.
"You need to whisper," he says.
You nod. He pulls his hand away.
Words won't come. You're shaking hard, teeth clicking together, and Steve is touching you. His hands at your neck, his thumb wiping blood away from your mouth. He pulls you away from the tree so he can dig in your bag for the first aid kid, a shoddy, near barren plastic case.
He tries to open it and it's too dark. It's so dark, and the bleeding won't stop, blood heaving down your face in a bumping stream to your collar.
"I'm- I'm gonna-" Steve's hands are not steady. "I'm gonna wipe your face, and- fuck."
Your chest is moving erratically. You both need to calm down. You need to be quick. What's the best way to make him — make you both — focus?
You take his hand, the one that isn't covered in blood, and bring it to your lips. You kiss him weakly at first, better on your second attempt.
"It's okay," you say.
He drops his forehead against the back of his hand briefly.
"It's okay, Stevie," you say, lips moving against the lines of his palm. His lifeline, his loveline.
He takes a deep breath. "Shit," he mumbles, sitting back on his knees again.
"I don't think they followed us," you whisper.
He cups your face. "I don't think they could. We were fast."
You laugh and abruptly close your mouth to stifle it.
In the dark like this, the only light the slim trimmings of the moon, Steve looks at you like you're everything. Awed, and undoubtedly afraid, he takes a few seconds to recalibrate and then he gets to work. Wipes your oozing cut with a winning apology, and then unclips the torch from his belt to shine at it assessingly.
You keen when he shines it in your eyes.
"Open your eyes, honey," he says, pet name a warmth that cuts through the creeping cold and lingering panic, "Wanna see if you're concussed."
He finishes his assessment and bandages you up. It's a haphazard job and you don't have any disinfectant. "It'll be alright. I'll make it alright, we'll- we'll see how it heals, and we'll go looking for something if we need to. It's not too big."
Adrenaline rush is the worst crash.
Exhausted, overwhelmed, Steve drops his face into the crook of your neck and pulls your face toward his carefully, kneeling between your open legs. You pull them up and lock him in with your knees, hurting all over.
"That was so fucking scary," you say.
He pats the back of your head. "Yeah. Yeah. It was."
That's enough for a while.
Every sound makes you jump. Steve disentangles from you only to search the sky for smoke, and he folds back into your arms with a relieved huff. "Fire to the east. It looks… I don't know. Far."
"Maybe tonight we should just…freeze."
He rubs his scratchy face into your neck. "We won't freeze."
Steve insists you sleep between his legs. You swap places, and he crosses his arms over your tummy, hands tucked intertwined with his into your pockets. You don't have to ask who's sleeping first because it's always you, and you won't waste time. You turn your face away from his chest and kiss his bicep, or rather the coat and sweater and long sleeve tee that covers it.
When he wakes you up in the twilight hours, it's with great news.
"I think they gave up on us. I heard, uh, some friendly fire."
"No way. They killed each other?"
He grins at you. "I don't know for sure, but- it sounded like it. The campfire's out, too."
Steve takes his turn to sleep. You wake him when the sun rises, and the next night you search the sky for smoke and find none. Whoever it is that's hunting for you, they've stopped.
"I think we're more than safe to light a fire tonight. Which is awesome. I think my ass has hypothermia," Steve says, thigh to thigh with a handful of your knee.
You beam, hand skirting dangerously low on his back. "Wan' me to check?"
"Pervert. Finish your dinner."
Dinner is half an apple and four big sips of water. With every jaw movement your new cut pulls. You can barely feel it, euphoric to be flirting with him, alive and well and warmed by a huge celebratory fire.
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#steve zombie!au#stranger things x reader#stranger things fic#stranger things#stranger things 4#steve harrington x y/n#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington imagine#steve harrington#steve harrington x you#steve harrington x fem!reader#steve harrington fanfiction#steve harrington fanfic
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Pairing: Hongjoong x Reader
Genre: Angst, superhero/villain au, bnha inspired magic system, university au
WC: 5210
Warnings: Cursing, mentioned character death, implied and attempted murder, injuries, just generally angst all around. Sad endings if you interpret it that way lol
Summary: Big cities are falling apart as more and more supervillains focus their attention to larger conquests. In desparation, the city of Seoul created a university for aspiring heros, in hopes of bringing the rate of crime back down. But with a spy in their midst, their plans may come crashing down on them.
For the villains collab hosted by @sanjoongie <3 here’s a playlist i made for it
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“(Y/N), you’ve been assigned a co-teacher. He’s starting out with you to learn the ropes but next year he’ll be on his own.”
You take in the young man you’ll be working with for the next year. He doesn’t look old at all, not like most of the other professors in the college, and for a moment you wonder if they meant that he will be your new TA.
“Hello, I’m Kim Hongjoong. It’s nice to meet you,” he greets, holding out his hand. “You must be (Y/N).”
“Mmh, what gave it away?” you joke and Hongjoong laughs lightly.
“Just an informed guess. It’s good to know I wasn’t paired with one of the older sticklers. I’m sure you’ll be a great mentor for me too.”
You hum noncommittally before realising you haven’t shaken his hand yet. “Off to a great impression, too,” you say with a smile, taking his hand. His handshake is firm, and you get the feeling that you’ll get along with him.
-
You and Hongjoong are on lunch break when one of the other teachers, a professor of the study of quirks, Park Seonghwa, bursts into your shared office.
“Hey, I hate to interrupt your lunch, but there’s an emergency staff meeting in the lounge.”
Hongjoong glances at you, and with a nod, the two of you follow Seonghwa into the hall.
Although it’s only been a few months since Hongjoong was assigned to your class, you have become quick friends with him. There was something about his blunt but caring nature that you admired. His work ethic was always on point, and although he’s a little strict during class, the students love him anyway. You’re glad you got the chance to work with him.
When the three of you reach the staff lounge, the college president is there, shocking both you and Hongjoong. Yonghwan Kim is a rare sight, meaning that this is an important meeting.
His eyes follow you and Hongjoong until you both take a seat. “I’m sure you’re all wondering why I called you for this unexpected assembly. As you know, this university was founded to combat the rise of supervillains in Seoul.” Murmurs break out all around and many professors tense at the reminder, Hongjoong included. Many of them had lost family members because of that, so you can’t blame them.
“Sir,” the science professor and practical quirk test proctor, Kang Yeosang, speaks up, “is something wrong with the college?”
Yonghwan shakes his head. “No. Although we’ve only been through two sets of graduates so far, it’s already dramatically helping curb crime rates. All our students have been brimming with potential, even those that are quirkless. And that’s where the problem lies.” He clears his throat before continuing. “There has been some intel…and with the addition of a tip-off note, there is speculation that a major supervillain group, HalAteez, has planted a spy here.”
Those words send a ripple of shock through the lounge, and several people start arguing indignantly. But one question sticks out for you, and it comes from Hongjoong, sitting right by you.
“What does this entail for us?”
“Ah, Hongjoong, right?” Yonghwa looks at him with a sad smile on his face. “I’m sorry you had to join us during this chaos. But as this is not confirmed and the information is to be classified, I would like you all to continue with classes as usual. Don’t let the students know of this. The government will send someone to keep an eye on security for us, so I must ask you all to keep gossip to a minimum.”
You’re frowning, biting at your lower lip in worry. A spy? Here?
As if sensing your worry, Hongjoong shifts towards you and takes your hand, and you squeeze it tight, thankful for the distraction. Being quirkless has always been worrisome, especially living in a big city. This new development at your workplace only makes you more uneasy, but just holding Hongjoong’s hand helps quell your fears.
-
In the upcoming weeks, everyone is on edge. Some hide it better than others, but you know you’re stressing out too much. Thankfully, Hongjoong seems to have a better hold on his poker face than you, and your class chalks it up to the upcoming exam season.
Every so often, the government agent, whose name you learn is Choi San, Choi San with an affinity towards fire will stand in the back of the lecture hall during your classes which does not help your nerves. He has a kind face, but the look in his eyes reminds you exactly why he’s here.
Yet, nothing out of the ordinary has happened, which has served to lessen your anxiety by a little. You don’t know what the hell a spy could want here. Most supervillains already have been through specialised colleges and know exactly what they bring to the table.
When you’re dismissing your class, San approaches you, the look on his face unreadable. “Excuse me, Miss (L/N)? May I speak to you?” Hongjoong lingers behind your desk, and San shoots him a look. “In private?” he adds on.
You nod lightly at Hongjoong, giving him the go-ahead, and he leaves with one last worried look towards you. San smiles, but it’s an emotionless one, and your heart almost stops at the stress of being alone in a room with him.
“What can I help you with, Mr San?”
“Mmh, just San is fine,” he says, and you think to yourself that you will not be calling him just San. “Now, I have a few questions for you, and then you can be on your way.”
You nod. “Please, have a seat,” you offer, gesturing to Hongjoong’s swivel chair, but San ignores that and instead plants his butt on your desk. Your eyebrow twitches.
“Now, if I read correctly, you have been working here for about eight years?” You nod. It will be your work anniversary next month. “And how do you like it here?”
“Uh…I like it. My coworkers are all very nice, and I enjoy teaching my students. They’re very active, which is surprising since it’s a history class.” You’re stuttering, awkward. These questions don’t seem like ones he would ask. But what would you know? You’re not a government agent.
“Tell me about Hongjoong.”
Your eyes widen. “Sorry?”
“The other professor for this class. Tell me about him.”
“Uh. Well, he’s great with the kids. And very kind. He’s pretty new, but he’s also helped teach at other colleges. He doesn’t particularly specialise in superhero history, so next year he’ll be teaching the general education course instead of me taking both courses simultaneously. .”
There’s not much to say about Hongjoong. Although the two of you have friendly conversations during lunch and enjoy each other’s company, it’s not what you call a friendship. “Hmm, well, thank you for your time. I will see you around,” San concludes, hopping off your desk and heading out the door faster than you can blink.
Hongjoong comes in almost immediately after with sandwiches in his hand, probably seeing through the window that the two of you were still talking and waiting. “Hey, how was it? I got you your usual sandwich, no mayo, right?”
You take the food gratefully and bite into it. “Thank you.” He’s still waiting for answers so you finish chewing as fast as possible. “He just asked me how long I’ve worked here, how the students are, and how I liked my coworkers. Oh! He asked me about you too.”
Hongjoong’s eyebrow raises. “Me?”
You nod, mouth full of sandwich again. “Yeah, it was weird. Like, why not just ask you himself? But don’t worry. I said nothing bad!” You smile while leaning over to poke at his shoulder. “If anything, he was annoying cus he planted his butt on the desk when I offered him a chair.”
Hongjoong lets out a laugh at that, a bright sound. “That might be the strangest thing he’s done, and that’s saying something.”
You hum, leaning back in your chair and staring contemplatively at the ceiling. You don’t like this new development at the college you’ve come to call your second home, but there’s nothing you can do about it, it seems.
-
You’re at home today. There was a bomb threat, and the college was evacuated save for Yonghwan, a few of the board members, Choi San, and the bomb squad. You can’t seem to stay still this time, though. Thankfully the threat was sent before classes had started so Yonghwan had passed it off as a teacher holiday, and the students were unsuspicious.
But as time passed, you started to question whether that was a good idea. Of course, as a new college, it was important to keep its image clean, but at what point would it become dangerous for the students? They should at least be aware something is happening, or why San is there, to keep their gossip to a low.
When you refresh your emails for the nth time this hour, you finally see an update from Yonghwan. The bomb threat was from a rejected student who had been apprehended and will be facing serious consequences. Nothing to worry about.
And then when you come back to class tomorrow, another man is standing with Choi San in the back of your class.
The hair on your neck rises, and it’s Hongjoong’s day off so you can’t even rely on him to help you cover your nervousness. You’re sure the class had to have noticed something, but when you end by giving them an essay, they file out as if nothing has happened. Either you’re much better at acting than you remember, or they aren’t nosy.
And then the worst possible scenario you could’ve imagined happens. The stranger and San make their way towards you. (You’re a little dramatic.) “(Y/N), meet Jongho. Because of the rising tension and new intel, he’ll be assigned to your class and report back to me if anything is suspicious. Please let Hongjoong know of this new development too.”
You can only manage a nod. This is not something you wanted to happen. You had hoped this whole spy thing would blow over, and you could go back to normal, but this is even worse than you thought.
“Nice to meet you,” you offer Jongho a hand, and he takes it, shakes it, and drops it just as fast. Great. At least San would pretend to be nice.
“Now, just so I can get an idea of who I will be watching, I’m going to ask you a few questions.” Oh, God. You nod, gesturing to a chair, and at least this time, Jongho takes it. San leaves quietly, and for some reason, you feel even more worried without him here.
“Now, you teach the specialised history class, correct? I’ll need a copy of your curriculum taught throughout the year.” You nod, gathering your papers and writing a reminder on a sticky note. “Please give them to me by tomorrow. Now, tell me about your coworkers.”
You bite your lip. You don’t feel comfortable giving out all this information about people you’ve come to call your friend, but you just want this to be over with. And so, you do your best. You tell them about their families and what they’ve told you, although you try to keep your tone light and paint them in a good light. Jongho seems unphased.
When it comes to Hongjoong, you stumble on your words. As you speak of him Jongho leans forward, his interest piqued. Your heart rate spikes. When he decides he’s had enough, he’s at the door in a blink of an eye, thanks to his quirk, and disappears from your sight.
Hongjoong is sweet, always buying you a coffee on the mornings you have early classes, but some of the things he says you feel might get him under watch. So you make a conscious decision to protect him. You can feel the guilt building in your stomach, but it’s for a good cause. The government is known to go after even the smallest of missteps with words, and you don’t want that to happen to the professor you’ve grown fond of.
-
When the day is almost over, you call Hongjoong. “Hey, are you home right now?”
“Uh, yeah?” Hongjoong is confused. “Why, what’s up?”
“I need to talk to you. Can I come over? I would ask to meet at a cafe, but this is important.” Your voice shakes slightly.
“Uh…sure. I’ll text you my address. Is something wrong?”
“I’ll tell you later,” you manage to say before ending the call and running your hands through your hair. You can’t believe you’re doing this, but although guilt is filling you up, you know this is something you must do.
You book it as soon as your phone rings with Hongjoong’s address. It’s close enough that you don’t need to take the bus and don’t want to pay for a taxi. You’ve never run this much before that when you get to his apartment building, your legs are burning, and you think your heart might pop out of your chest. You probably didn’t even need to run but sometimes you don't think.
Taking a deep breath, you ring the buzzer and hope you do not look like a fool. “(Y/N), come on up,” you can hear him say.
When Hongjoong opens the door, he laughs at your dishevelled appearance. “Did you run here?” He’s joking, but when you nod his expression changes from amused to worried. “You did? What on earth happened?”
“I…” you can hardly speak clearly “...need to sit for a moment,” is what comes out instead of what you meant to say.
A moment passes before you and Hongoong start laughing—although yours sounds more like a dying horse with asthma.
“Come in and catch your breath. I’ll get you some water.” He steps to the side, letting you enter and almost collapse on the couch he points you to.
As he leaves, you take in his small but cosy apartment. It’s barely decorated, just a few picture frames here and there, but it doesn’t seem like lazy planning. Instead, it was very chic. The picture frame on the coffee table depicts who you assume to be Hongjoong as a child, and curiosity wins you over, and you pick it up.
The picture is in black and white but it doesn’t detract from the bright smile of the boy in the image.
“I think that was from when I was four,” Hongjoong says from behind you, and you jump a little. “Ah, don’t worry, I don’t mind. I put them out anyways, it’s not like I tried to hide it. Now, what was it you wanted to tell me?”
He hands you the mug of water and you take it gratefully. “I just wanted to let you know what happened in class today. We now have a specialised agent, Choi Jongho, watching our class. He was being a little nosy, especially about you. I just wanted to warn you.”
Hongjoong watches with a kind smile on his face. “Thank you. San has been speaking with me recently, but I’ve noticed he’s also been keeping his eyes on Yeosang. He probably thinks it's one of us.”
You sigh, biting your lower lip. “Yeah…I hate this.” You bury your head in your hands, letting out a deep sigh as Hongjoong leans forward in worry. “It’s just…so different from how the world was. Of course, there will always be crime, but sometimes I feel scared to leave my apartment.”
Hongjoong hums in understanding, pulling your hand away from your face. “I totally get that. The feeling of having to hide and having to watch what you say, it’s a hard burden to bear. Thank you for warning me. I’ll keep an eye out.”
His reassurances are so comforting. When you look at him with watery eyes, you feel like you can trust this man with your life. Even though you know this is almost 100% a bad idea, you lean in and brush your lips against his. But instead of jerking back, Hongjoong leans into it.
“I’m sorry,” you mumble against his soft lips. “I know this is such a bad idea, but I–”
“Shh,” Hongjoong says, pulling back a little, but his hands have found their way to your face. “It’s quite alright. I…understand you and feel you. It’s all right.”
And with those words, you fall into him more profoundly than ever.
-
“How was work today, love?” Hongjoong greets you at the door, pressing a quick kiss to your cheek as he hangs up your coat.
Lately, the two of you have had time to only chat at home on his off days. Both of you were worried that Jongho would overhear and misunderstand something. And hiding this relationship was thrilling as well. Maybe you would even have teased him if it was under any other circumstances.
But in this world, you can’t help but hide. As much as you want to scream and shout, you cannot. You know the consequences.
And as much as it hurts you, you can’t even talk to Seonghwa about it. Although he’s your coworker, you trust him almost as much as you trust Hongjoong, but every time you open your mouth, suddenly fear strikes you and you snap it shut just as quickly. Seonghwa’s sweet, but how would you know he wouldn’t talk to Jongho or San just because?
“It was okay,” you say with a sigh. “Jongho was being nosy yet again and it’s getting harder to keep away from his questions.”
Hongjoong hums, his face pressed against the side of your head. “Don’t worry, honey. I won’t let anything happen. I’ll be safe.”
“Okay,” you say slowly, unsurely, like cotton has filled your mouth. You’re just so stressed but it doesn’t stop you from pressing a kiss to Hongjoong’s lips.
For the past couple of months, all the two of you have done is just talk about work, share worries and confide in each other. It’s exhilarating to have this close of a relationship with someone, and every day you fall just a bit more in love with Hongjoong. His love is all you’ll need if everything goes wrong.
“Mmh, tomorrow, let’s have a lunch date?” Hongjoong suggests, and you agree eagerly. Although you eat together as usual in the office, you are still at school and cannot do anything too outwardly. But this time, you can go out and have lunch at a cafe.
Except on the day of, the two of you are walking together when San suddenly materialises in front of you. “Are you two heading out?” he asks, although it’s not a question. “Do you mind if I join you for lunch?”
You glance at Hongjoong to see what he’ll do, and all he does is nod slightly, no emotion showing on his face.
That’s how the two of you end up eating lunch with the terrifying Choi San. He’s trying to make conversation, but you can hardly bring yourself to speak, so Hongjoong takes care of most of it for you.
An assembly including the students is called, and you make your way over slowly, with Hongjoong close behind. You feel so useless, hardly able to help the government, unable to keep yourself together without Hongjoong…what happened to you?
“(Y/N)!” Seonghwa waves you over, and you shoot him a smile, heading over with a spring in your step. “Hey, Hongjoong.” His voice is considerably less cherry as he takes in the sight of your boyfriend.
Although your relationship was hidden, Seonghwa still didn’t seem to warm up to Hongjoong very much. He’s always polite, of course, but something about Hongjoong makes Seonghwa much colder than you were used to, one of the reasons you were always scared to tell Seonghwa exactly what you and Hongjoong were up to.
“Seonghwa.” And Hongjoong’s attitude is almost exactly the same. Neither man likes the other and you can’t tell why. But it’s not the issue you have to think about right now.
Yonghwa gets everyone’s attention just by clearing his throat. Commanding everyone’s attention comes easily to someone with his quirk. “Now, I am here to let you all know about what has been happening. I know you may have been confused about all these new people but I just want to clear something up. We are not in any danger.”
In some ironic twist, fire rains down on the building just as the words leave his mouth. Teachers and government agents do their best to shield the students, but this was a premeditated attack, and they go down first. Where is this even coming from?
Students are freaking out, and even Yonghwa’s calm voice does nothing to keep the panic rising in everyone’s throats. Hongjoong is busy talking with other professors, trying to get a hold of the situation, and you jump into action, ushering students away from the centre of danger and into the hallway, telling them to hide in classrooms and put up the emergency shields in each one.
But you’re one person corralling many people, and it’s so overwhelming. You’re useless in this situation, but you grit your teeth and bear it. Even the smallest thing can save one person and that’s all that matters.
You escort a handful of students through the hall when you hear it first before you feel it. A tremendous blast of energy strikes the building and the foundation shakes so hard you’re almost knocked off your feet.
“Get to the auditorium, now,” you yell, and the students hesitate only a moment before taking off. When they’re all out of sight, you turn around and run back to the auditorium as fast as possible.
When you pull open the door, destruction greets you. The ceiling caved in from the quirk-started earthquake, and it’s a bloodbath. You let a noise of horror escape, and you can hardly feel yourself moving forward and pushing piles of rubble around as you try to find someone, anyone.
“It’s over now, (Y/N),” a soothing voice comes from behind you, one that you recognise. Hongjoong.
You whirl around and launch yourself at him, and he catches you easily, holding you close. “Joong,” you sob into his chest.
“Shh, don’t worry. It’s all right.” He’s speaking calmly and lovingly, and you almost want to just close your eyes and listen to it forever…but you can hear screaming in the building, and somehow you know that he’s lying.
“No,” you manage to force out, and Hongjoong barks out a surprised laugh. He tries to hold you tighter but you shove him away. He’s surprised, and so are you. You didn’t think that you would ever do that to him, but amid all the chaos, your mind suddenly clears, and you understand.
New employee Hongjoong arrives, and suddenly there’s a spy. Hongjoong touches you, and you’re calm, happy, and trusting him. Hongjoong dates you, and you come home and tell him all about your day and what the government agents are doing. Hongjoong dislikes Seonghwa because Seonghwa’s quirk is knowing who lies. Although he can’t tell the reasons or exactly what the lie is, he knew to some extent that Hongjoong was hiding something.
“Oh, clever girl,” Hongjoong grins, a smile you once loved…or did you ever? “You figured it out, and now the baby deserves a prize.”
You shake your head, stepping back. “You’re a liar. Seonghwa knew.”
Hongjoong laughs wildly. “Don’t tell me what I know, (Y/N). And that Seonghwa is gone now. Buried him in the rubble just like he deserves. You know, his last words were not to hurt you? Ruminate on that. Imagine what he would think if he knew that you helped. You did this to yourself, to everyone here. Everyone loved you, relied on you, and you brought them down because you couldn’t discern anything. You can’t even stop me now.”
His words pierce your heart, and you shake as tears fill your eyes. “No,” you gasp out. “It’s not me.” The words feel foreign to you, and you almost want to swallow them back, but you can’t let him win again. “San will stop you.”
“Oh, will he?” Hongjoong’s having too much fun, and he beckons to someone…you hope he’s bluffing, but deep down, you know he’s not. “Let’s ask him ourselves.”
And as much as you wish it’s not true, that doesn’t stop San from materialising in front of you, just as wicked of agrin on his face. “No,” you breathe out.
“Yes,” San mimics. “You were almost too easy, (Y/N). Honestly, even with that brat Jongho getting suspicious and even escaping, you would do anything for your precious ‘Joongie’ that I didn’t have to do anything”
You hold down a sob, but it does nothing to hide the betrayal and confused look on your face. Hongjoong looks at you contemplatively. You must look pitiful, on your ass and backed against what once was a ceiling. “Leave us for a moment, San,” Hongjoong says slowly, head cocked, and you fear what he will do next.
With a light shrug, San exits the area, and you almost want him to stay so that he won’t hunt down the students, but you can’t seem to move. If you had a quirk, maybe you could’ve gotten out of this. But you’re floundering, and you don’t know what to do.
“Now, (Y/N),” Hongjoong steps in front of you and crouches, “you may be wondering why your precious boyfriend would do such a thing…and the truth is…it’s exhilarating, isn’t it? You know, even though I was emotionally manipulating you and brainwashing you or whatever, the thrill you felt from sneaking around was real.”
You shake your head, but you know he’s telling the truth, and you despise him even more for that. “No, I hate you.”
“Like that’s going to hurt my feelings? The feelings that didn’t exist? You’re done, honey. Just give up.” Hongjoong grabs your jaw, forcing you to look at his dark eyes and wicked smile. "It's the year of the villains, baby."
He pecks your lips, a crude mockery of the façade that was your relationship, and you fall apart. You close your eyes tight, and you hardly even register the sharp pain in your skin as Hongjoong digs his nails into your face.
But you do notice the blooming pain that spreads throughout your body, and you realise he must have coated his nails in poison. Hongjoong lets go of you, and without him holding you up, you slump on the ground as tears fall freely and silent sobs wrack your body. “I could kill you mercifully…but some part of me liked the game that we played. Let this serve as a reminder for the final moments of your life.” The smirk is heard in his voice and silently, you curse him.
You can’t see well, even when you open your eyes blearily, darkness clouding into the corners, but you can hear the click of his boots as he leaves. You can only hope he will leave the building alone as you lay in darkness. Warmth overcomes your body, and you can’t help but relax into it. Maybe it was his last kindness.
-
It’s been five years since the attack on the University of Seoul Supers, and Yeosang can’t stop waking up in a cold shiver every night. He counts his lucky stars that his quirk allowed him to hide away safely in the auditorium and take a few students under his protection. Seeing someone he considered a friend fall apart in front of his eyes almost ruined him, but as soon as that bitch, that so-called professor, left, Yeosang rushed out to you.
Even now, with his nightmares, he can’t even imagine what you must be going through. One of the students he saved knew how to heal, but with her lack of skill as well as the time it took for the paramedics to get to you, you would never be the same physically or mentally.
“Hongjoong?” Your light voice echoes through the house, and Yeosang cannot help but feel a wave of pity overcome him as he climbs out of his bed and makes his way to the guest suite you now call your bedroom.
Forever haunted by how you were used and then left to die, you never really talked about the incident. Yeosang doesn’t know if it’s how you cope or if it’s the aftermath of the trauma you faced. Still, you were always in your own little world, living happily and pretending or forgetting that Hongjoong isn’t but the one who blinded you and caused you to be practically immobile without the help of a wheelchair. He’s a man you loved who left and promised to return.
“Hey, (Y/N),” Yeosang manages with a tired smile. “No Hongjoong today. It’s just me.” No matter how many doctors he takes you to, or however much medication you get prescribed, he will always have to take care of you.
“Oh.” Yeosang’s heart hurts at the way your voice falls. He lost many friends, students, and people he considered family that day. He won’t ever stop hearing the screams of his TA, Wooyoung, as he was burnt to a crisp. But taking care of you is what keeps him moving. It’s what keeps him alive. And one day, he knows he will find Hongjoong and make him pay dearly for what he has done.
Yeosang steps towards you to help you into your wheelchair, and the paper detailing Jongho’s number burns in his pocket. The time will come, and all he has to do is wait. Five years is a blink of an eye for someone out for revenge, after all.
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