#his dry delivery of it too 😂

[sonofarathorn]

There is no funnier piece of dialogue in all of history than “Bad news. You can’t live here anymore.”

[accio-victuuri]

i just noticed i’ve been v partial lately to zsww fake house and of course our dear lrlg that i forgot about another fake story house 给博肖加点小料bot . the last contribution i posted from them was this — the drawing of them 💋. so for a bit of a catch up, i will share ones from the past dates 2/24, 3/3, 3/26, 4/3, 4/29, 5/21 and 5/29.

enjoy the goods! ^^ everything here is fake/fiction.

2/24/2024:

I have been losing weight recently, and if I crave meat, I will order takeout like beggar's chicken. Once when the meal arrived, XLS used the disposable plastic gloves provided to tear the chicken, and he got burned. Then he put the thick cloth gloves that came with the meal on the outside of the disposable plastic gloves and tried to grab it. We quickly stopped him, and he realized that he should wear the thick gloves inside and the disposable gloves outside. After eating, he called WLS as usual to report today's diet. He acted like a spoiled child to WLS and said that he was burned. Usually you tear it for him, and he didn't know it would be so hot. He also said that he would not dare to do it next time. Later, XLS told us that he ate chicken when he was losing weight, and WLS even made him hand-torn chicken.

ugh. honestly. these two. forget about peeling shrimps for your s/o! it’s now shredding chicken with your hands and then letting them eat it like that is the key. i swear, WLS really spoils XLS! and i like hearing about him acting like this with WLS.

and a background on what is “beggar’s chicken”

3/3/2024:

Once when we were staying in a hotel, we entered the elevator from the first floor. A robot came in with us. We pressed the button for floor x. Wls and xls pressed the button for floor x, but the button for another floor in the elevator was also on. Xls saw that no one pressed the button, so he turned off the button for that floor. It turned on again after he pressed it off. Xls continued to press the button, and it turned on again after a while. Wls said, don't press it, it's the robot pressing it. Xls was very quick and pressed it again while listening to Wls. As a result, it didn't light up again this time: Wls was very exaggerated to say that he was awesome. He deserved to be my leader. Even robots have to listen to you.

i have nothing to say here other than they are such dorks. 🙃🙃🙃

3/26/2024:

WLS wanted XLS to call him gege, but XLS refused, so WLS tickled him. XLS had no choice but to quietly call him gege. After that, his face turned red. WLS still wouldn’t let us see it👀………………Don’t believe the fake news

why do i feel like this is real and not a fake story. 😂

4/3/2024:

They had a pair of Crayon Shin-chan toys, similar to the toys we played with when we were kids, which would automatically swing forward by turning a switch. XX was playing with his own toy, and xxx's toy didn't move. XX's toy swung and swung until it came to xxx's toy. The two toys were face to face, eyes to eyes, mouth to mouth, and then XX exclaimed in a very cute way, and XXX laughed along with XX.

even the toys they are playing with are dating 🤦‍♀️

4/29/2024:

For a while, x liked to watch food shows to find delicious snacks, but he was on a diet and couldn't eat too much. Every time he bought a bunch of snacks, he would taste them and share them with us. Some of them were so delicious that he couldn't finish them, so he would send them to w to clean them up. The courier here always knew the delivery address without telling us.

5/21/2024:

xls mistakenly sent a video of himself practicing kettlebells to the group. It was said that it was originally sent to wls.

OH NOOOOOO! what other workout videos is he sending to WYB??? how about post workout selfies??? 👀👀👀👀 XZ, please check who you are sending stuff to!!!!

5/29/2024:

XZ: I think I have dry skin

WYB: Bullshit, you sweat so much

XZ: Oh! I feel that my skin is still dry after applying body lotion recently, am I going to have dry skin?

👩‍🦳: It may not be moisturizing enough, but it will be summer soon, so I don’t need body lotion

👱‍♀️: The whitening one, the one you mentioned last time, I plan to buy the same one

XZ: Oh, that one is actually good

WYB: Is that one particularly fragrant? I touched it, and the smell is exquisite

XZ: It’s none of your business

WYB: I can’t join you at all

the comments on this contribution was mostly about “straight man” yibo 🤣🤣🤣

-END

[shipmistress9]

Made to Order - 4

AN: Oh, look. That plan I mentioned with four big plot points for 'chapter two'? Yeah, it turned into four separate chapters after all. How… very not surprising. 😂

Previous Chapter AO3

. o O o .

When my phone pings with a new message, I flinch. I can’t help it. It’s been like this for three days now, ever since Violet was here again and I made an utter fool of myself.

With every message I receive, I expect her to call me out on my inexcusable behaviour. That I’m acting unprofessional if she’s being gentle or that I’m a creep if she’s being brutally honest. I don’t think she’d cancel the order, not after my official account received a generous down payment from a Dain Aetos. But she could refuse to meet in person again, and I couldn’t even blame her for it. Maybe it would be better that way anyway. No more chances for me to get entangled even deeper in this mess.

Studiously, I keep kneading a fresh batch of gum paste and ignore both the phone and my ever-spiralling thoughts. They can’t lead anywhere anyway.

After a few more minutes, the paste is smooth enough even for Liam’s taste, and I stow it away into the fridge, wrapped up air-tight, of course. At the rate Liam is currently modelling one flower after the other, we’ll need this new batch by tomorrow.

“Do you need help here?” I ask as I slide into the bench opposite of him, the sturdy work table at the back of the bakery between us covered with modelling tools and countless flowers already drying.

Liam’s lips twitch into a grin, his eyes never leaving the large rose he’s working on. “So desperate for distraction? But sure. Could you prepare a few more petals for this one?”

I quickly check my phone, the message I got earlier, and am relieved to find it’s just another customer confirming an appointment. “No idea what you mean,” I say, absentmindedly placing the phone onto the table next to me.

Liam snorts, knowing how little I enjoy this fiddly work. Give me dough and fillings and let me experiment with aromas and spices. Let me construct a cake with many layers and frosting, built for perfection. I even enjoy decorating the final cake with fondant, more frosting, or various decorations. But making these filigrane decorations? Not my favourite part, and I gladly leave this to Liam. But the least I can do is help as best I can, so I reach for the gum paste the rich colour of orange peel and do my best not to mess it up.

For a while we work in companionable silence, and as always, I’m amazed at how easy Liam makes it look, how realistically his flowers seem, as if they would move if a breeze were to blow by, and how accurately he colours the paste accordingly to the palette Violet gave me, an almost pinkish salmon hue this time. There really is no question about who of us is the artist.

My phone pings again with another message, and even though I see directly that it’s just a confirmation for a delivery, I flinch again. At some point, I will have to face her judgement. It’s only a matter of time.

“Is everything okay with you?”

“Sure,” I reply without looking over to him. He’d see right through me. He probably does, anyway. “Why shouldn’t I be okay?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Liam drawls, pushing the stem of the next finished rose into the styrofoam block. “Maybe because you’ve been incredibly tense and nervous lately. Even more so than usual. I know that something’s bothering you, okay? Don’t even try to deny it.”

He really knows me too well.

I grunt, hoping beyond hope that he’ll drop the topic. I don’t want to talk about this whole mess, wouldn’t even know what to tell him at this point. It’s all just so stupid. Who ever gets a severe crush like this on a customer just from a couple of short interactions? Ridiculous.

“Xaden?”

I sigh and open my mouth, still not sure what to tell him, when the entrance bell to the front room rings.

“I gotta take that,” I say, too relieved about the interruption to wonder who might be coming into the shop. There’s been no appointment today. Or was there? I’m not even sure anymore. Gods, constantly thinking about Violet Sorrengail is really messing with me.

Which becomes even more obvious when I enter the front room and see her standing there by the door when I’m absolutely sure it can’t be real.

I’m such a mess.

I close my eyes and count to five, slowly, giving my mind time to catch up with reality. But when I open my eyes again, she’s still standing there. Her hair perfectly styled into a messy-looking braid that’s hanging over her shoulder, a light dust of make-up making her eyes shine, her lips even more inviting than ever as she once again contemplates all the different cakes with a little smile on her face.

Gods, I’m so fucked.

But at least she came here again and she also doesn’t seem to be angry, a little voice in my head tries to calm me. Isn’t that a good thing?

Swallowing, I quickly rebuild my composure before stepping closer to the counter, into her viewing field. “Violet?” I ask, my voice only slightly quivering. “Did I forget an appointment?”

At my words, she pivots toward me, the smile on her face growing even brighter. “Hey, Xaden. No, ah, we didn’t have an appointment. But I just got the final list and I thought I’d stop by to discuss it? If you have the time now?”

I blink, a bit stunned despite her perfectly normal words. So, she doesn’t hate me? Doesn’t think I was overstepping with how obvious my interest for her must have been? Or didn’t she even notice? Fuck, I wish I could look into her head, know what she’s thinking. “Yeah, sure, now is fine. But you could have just sent it over as well.”

I gesture over to the sitting area, but she shakes her head.

“I don’t have time to stay long and I… Well, I was going for a walk anyway, so I thought… why not stop by in person?” She gives me another heart-stopping smile and brushes a strand of hair behind her ear. And in the light reflecting off the floor, it almost looks like there’s a blush on her cheeks. But no, I must be imagining that. It’s just the light. It can’t be real.

Wordlessly, I nod, keeping my eyes on the sheet of paper she places on the counter between us and my hands well out of reach of hers. I can’t afford slipping up again just because she’s standing less than a metre away from me.

“So, the allergies first, I’d say. Dain’s allergic to nuts, of course. I could have told you that as well.”

She chuckles, shaking her head, but I refuse to look at her. Because I know if I do, I’ll lose it. My head is just too full with thoughts like ‘She’s back!’ to really comprehend much else.

“And then someone from the in-laws is apparently allergic to apples?” Violet shrugs, thankfully unaware of my thoughts. “But that’s it there. Ah, and Dain’s mum apparently requested not to use any sugar substitutes. Don’t ask me from which new conspiracy theory that stems.”

“Noted,” I say with a slight smirk, keeping my composed front easier now that we’re back on professional topics.

But also, apparently it’s not just her future father-in-law she doesn’t like, as it seems. Honestly, doesn’t she have any close friends who’re in the right position to talk her out of this wedding? Because if I can see this is not right for her, then… Too bad I’m definitely not in the right position to change her mind, though. I mustn’t. And who am I to judge her decisions anyway.

“No apples and no… uhm, how severely is Dain allergic to nuts? Should I just keep all crunchy brittle and such away from this cake, or are any traces of nuts in, for example, a chocolate frosting a problem already?”

At this, I do look up at her again, after all. I really can’t avoid looking at her for the next two months, so I better get used to it. But, damn, does she look pretty. Even prettier than the last times she was here, it seems. More awake. Happier. Almost glowing even with that true smile on her face.

“No, small traces of nuts aren’t an issue. It’s just whole and untreated walnuts and sometimes hazelnuts that can cause a reaction, but it’s never been life-threatening and chocolate in general never caused a problem.”

I nod. “Okay, that makes things easier.” I read through the following list of possible fillings, sometimes with names behind them. They’re good solid suggestions, enough to pick from—but somehow something is missing. I’m usually a pretty good judge of character when it comes to which cake is someone’s favourite. And even though I don’t really know yet which one I would have picked for Violet… none of these really match. “Well, I can work with these,” I say nonetheless.

Violet lets out a relieved little sigh. “That’s good.” She pushes the list toward me, then steps away, ready to leave.

“Do you want to see a few first flowers for your cake?”

The question is out of my mouth before I can think, and I wish I could slap a hand over my lips to stuff it back in. Yes, I know I don’t want her to leave already. But do I really need to make a fool of myself again?

Grimacing, Violet throws me an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry, I really wish I could. But I’m just on my lunch break and really need to head back.”

Right. She probably has a job somewhere. A whole life, for Dunne’s sake, with a fiancé and all. And I just keep being an idiot over and over again.

“But… I could stop by tomorrow evening? If that doesn’t mess with your schedule? Because I’d really like to see them.”

This time, it is on me to smile. “Yeah, tomorrow evening is fine.”

“Perfect,” she grins. “See you tomorrow, then.”

“Tomorrow,” I nod.

Violet leaves, but even after she’s gone, long after she’s out of my sight, I still can’t stop grinning. She doesn’t hate me. Maybe, she really didn’t notice my slip-up, after all. Or she’s used to people falling for her left and right. Wouldn’t surprise me with how gorgeous she is.

I take another heartbeat or three to bask in the lightness her visit left in my chest, that fluttering something when she smiled at me, then I head back into the bakery. There are lots of flowers waiting to be made.

As I sit down again, Liam studies me with a strange look. “Okay, now, you have to tell me what’s up with you.”

“What do you mean?” I reply, biting my lip. In my mind, I still can see Violet, hear her laughter. Surely he’s not wondering about me being overly tense anymore?

Liam puts aside the half-finished rose, one in a soft apricot colour this time, and raises both eyebrows at me. “Xaden, you’re smiling. I know you broody and serious and troubled and anxious. I mean, it’s not that I haven’t seen you happy, either. But when you’re visibly happy like this, there’s always a good reason for it. So shoot. What’s up.”

Snorting, I shake my head. He really knows me too well. And he’s right, isn’t he? I’m happy.

I’m happy when there really is no reason to feel that way.

My shoulders drop as do the corners of my mouth, the lightness in my chest evaporating. What’s the point in being happy? Sure, Violet doesn’t hate me, which makes working for her easier. And, of course, I like working with her, it’s easy, fun, simple. I like being with her, around her, like talking to her, listening to her, looking at her.

But that’s the problem. I like it too much. I like it too much when there’s no path that could lead to more. Because I wish there was, no point in denying it. But there never will be.

My lips twitch up into a smile again, but it’s a sad one now. “It’s nothing, Liam. Nothing.”

. o O o .

Since Violet didn’t specify when she would be here, I spent a good time waiting for her in the front room. I probably have other things to do, but somehow I don’t care. All that matters is not missing even one moment of her being here.

When she arrives, my face lights up, I just can’t help it, and I walk to her directly to greet her. There’s that beautiful smile on her face when she sees me, her eyes gleaming with happiness. She lifts her arm as if to hug me in greeting, and for a brief second, I reason with myself that it’s perfectly fine to hug her if that’s what she wants. Everything to make the customer feel welcome. But fuck it. I want to hug her. No other reason needed.

All but brimming with joy and uncalled-for excitement, I lean down to accommodate her—when she brings her hand to the back of my neck and twists her head just so that our lips meet.

For the fraction of a second, I freeze, too stunned to react. She’s kissing me! But then my eyes flutter shut and I give in.

I tilt my head to meet her at a better angle, shuddering at her little mewl as I kiss her back. My lips move with hers, sliding, pressing. My hands landed on her shoulders but now one is moving up to her neck to pull her in even deeper while the other is sliding down, along the curves of her sides, finally settling on her tiny waist. Amari help me, she feels so good beneath my hands, her kiss so sweet. I pull her closer and feel her smile against my mouth before she parts my lips with her own, her tongue seeking mine. I can’t help it and groan into her mouth. This is everything I wanted, everything I dreamed of, it’s—

With a start, I wake up. My eyes are wide, my heart pounding in my chest as the memories of my dream settle in my conscious mind. What the fuck…?

Unable to lie still for even a second, I all but jump out of my bed and head to my bathroom. The water is icy, but I don’t care, and only after my face is dripping and I’m fully awake do my thoughts start to make sense again.

It was just a dream.

It wasn’t real.

Violet didn’t kiss me.

But, fuck, do I wish it was real.

Sinking down onto the edge of the tub, I bury my face in my hand and let out a low curse. “What is wrong with me?” I mutter to myself. “She’s engaged, for fuck’s sake. I can’t fall for her, dammit!”

But that’s exactly what’s happening, whether I want it or not. Whether it’s sensible or not. My shoulders slump and a short desperate laugh escapes me as I can’t fight the truth any longer. I’m falling for her, hard. And no amount of logical arguing is going to get me out of this.

. o O o .

In a way, admitting my feelings to myself makes things easier, I decide as I pick a few of the flowers Liam made and arrange them on a styrofoam stand. Or at least I hope it does. Yesterday, the logical part of my brain was dreading seeing her again this afternoon. Nothing good could come from this, after all. And at the rate she’s ripping away my self-control, who knows what might happen the next time I slip up.

But by now… It’s not that these thoughts aren’t still there. It’s just that… without having to fight how I feel, with letting myself feel what I feel, I think it will be easier to keep my interactions with her at an acceptable level. I’m falling for her and I can fight these feelings just as little as I can change that there’s no future for us. All I can do is somehow deal with the whole mess.

So I’ll just roll with it. Because there’s also another part of my brain, the part that’s just excited, just looking forward to seeing her again. To spend a little time with her. To enjoy her voice and her smiles for however long I can.

Deep down, I know this is not the most healthy way to deal with my feelings. But it’s the only solution I can come up with.

. o O o .

When I enter the front room, she’s already sitting in her usual space, visibly content. Once again, I take a short moment to just enjoy seeing her like this, a moment to look at her unrestrained before I let her notice me. And I already feel lighter, more in control. Nothing weird will happen while she’s here, I swear to myself. And I always keep my promises.

“Hey,” I greet her, my defences already built up against her greeting smile. And to my relief, it’s indeed easier on me this time.

“Hey to you, too. And thanks again for meeting with me. I’m not keeping you from work, am I?”

“No, don’t worry. From Wednesday to Sunday, I’m busy preparing the fresh cakes for the weddings, but since most of them are during weekends, Monday and Tuesday are usually calmer.”

Violet nods. “Makes sense.”

“Do you want something to drink today?” Again, I know it’s just a normal question, just the usual politeness towards a customer. It doesn’t matter that it might mean more to me, as long as I keep my emotions in this tight little bubble.

Out of habit, I turn to start the coffee machine when Violet replies, a little hesitant. “Could I… maybe get a hot chocolate again? Honestly, I’ve never had one that tasted so delicious.”

The smile tugging at my lips is real as I nod. “Sure. Just give me a minute or two.” It’s still stupid, to grant her this special treatment. But I can enjoy the simple fact that she likes something I prepared, can’t I? It’s innocent, nothing meaningful.

When I return to her, I hold her mug in one hand and the stand with the pre-picked flowers I prepared earlier in the other. That’s what she came here for, after all, despite me offering to show her yesterday only having been an excuse.

“Mmh, thank you,” she hums, taking the mug and inhaling deeply. “I’ve been thinking about this for days now. The hot chocolate.” She takes a sip and sighs. “Even better than I remembered.”

I smile again. “You’re welcome.” I like the thought that she thought of me as well, for whatever reason.

Violet takes another sip, visibly getting comfortable, and I don’t fight the happiness this sight brings me anymore. What’s the point? Obviously, she’s happy now. Whatever bothered her before about her wedding must be out of the way now. Which is good. I’m glad for her. Nothing could have developed between us anyway, so I ignore that sting.

“And these are the flowers you made?” Her eyes are on the petal paste roses, filled with clear awe. “They look so real.”

“They do, don’t they?” I say, not hiding the pride I feel. “And yeah, we made them. Well, mostly my coworker, to be honest. My area of expertise is more what goes into the cake.”

“Glad to hear you’re at least honest to her,” a voice calls from behind me, and I flinch. Why is Liam back already?

I turn in my seat, now trying harder to suppress my emotions. If Liam sees how annoyed I am about him being early, I’ll never hear the end of it. “I’d never take credit that’s not mine.”

Liam cocks his head, making a show of thinking about my words, and then nods. “Fair enough.”

With a small sigh, I turn back toward Violet. I’m a little disappointed that I don’t get to enjoy this meeting as I planned to, but it’s probably better this way. With Liam around as a buffer, I’m definitely not going to slip up again. “Violet, this is Liam, my co-worker.”

“And roommate, foster brother, and general life saver. At your service.” He makes a show of bowing towards Violet, and I can’t help but roll my eyes a little. He’s such a flirt. But maybe, that’s good. Makes our interactions lighter, easier.

Violet chuckles. “Nice to meet you, Liam. I’m Violet.”

“Violet is the one who ordered the cake with the orange roses,” I explain, waving at the examples in their stand. “Which is why she’s here. So see a few first samples.”

“I see,” Liam drawls, giving me side eyes. He knows damn well that a meeting like this it’s not typical.

“What are you doing here already, by the way?” I ask, stirring the conversation away from any possible follow-up questions. “Shouldn’t you still have classes?”

“Classes got cancelled because our prof called in sick. I’m attending art school,” he explains for Violet. “I only help out here in my free time and because I can get credits for my courses for modelling some of these decorations. And because Xaden here would be entirely lost without me.” He nudges my shoulder with his fist.

“Thanks, asshole,” I mutter but can’t help smiling. He’s not wrong, after all.

Violet eyes us with a tiny smirk. “I see. So, you’re the one I really need to talk to here? Regarding the decorations?”

Liam’s shoulders square and a wide grin spreads across his face. “Absolutely. Xaden can’t even tell the difference between pinkish orange and salmon colour. So if you’re here to talk about the finer details for your cake, I’m your man.”

Violet laughs, soft but real, and I can’t be annoyed at Liam, not when this is how he makes her react. My happiness is not what’s important here, only hers.

“Well then,” Violet says, her chin resting on her propped-up hand. “What do you, as an expert, think of our plan for this cake? Any thoughts?”

At that, I snort. Liam has always thought about how people want their cakes.

Grinning, Liam sinks into the chair between us. “I’m so glad you asked. Are you sure you only want roses? Because no matter how realistically I make these, on their own they will always look weird and artificial. Now, if you’d let me add some greenery and filler flowers, though? That’s what makes the decoration really pop.” He holds up a hand to halt her protest and I let him because I agree. We’ve had this conversation a hundred times already, after all. Without customers, though. “I know what you want to say. The decoration is supposed to stick to the signature colour palette. But trust me, adding greenery doesn’t interfere with that. Think of the bridal bouquet and the general flower decorations. Those will come with greenery, too, and nobody will think it looks weird or out of place. Why should it be different for the flower decoration on the cake? Come here, let me show you what I mean.”

He gets up and beckons Violet to follow him, which she does after throwing me a little glance. I settle back in my seat and watch as Liam stirs her through the room, showing her different examples, some simply with petal paste leaves, others with baby’s breath or other flowers woven into the decoration.

And I find myself… feeling content. Seeing her following Liam’s explanations with true interest, the little smiles she throws at me in between, her honest laughter filling the shop every now and then. Maybe this wasn’t how I expected this meeting to go, but that’s okay. Because I truly could get used to this, just having her around, just for the joy of it.

What does it matter that nothing can come of it when I can simply enjoy the little things? Like how her entire face lights up when she smiles, the blue outshining the amber in her hazel eyes. The curve of her lips and the way her hair shimmers when it reflects the light. Not to mention her witty comments and the inner strength she has to posses for going through with something despite the difficulties.

It’ll only last for less than two months, but until then, I want to enjoy every moment I can. Maybe it’s stupid, my heart telling me it would never be enough.

But it has to be enough so maybe, it will.

. o O o .

AN: Yeah, Xaden, that's the way to go. Get used to having her around. That's totally not going to blow in your face...

(PS: Since it sounds better and also fits better to the word I'd use in my native tongue, I replaced 'gum paste' with the alternative phrase 'petal paste', in case anyone was wondering.)

Next Chapter

[deonideatta]

Bots. Yeah. Same problem here 😭

Anyway, drabble prompt: classic "sick fic" for TwiYor?

They never has anyone take care of them, so the awkwardness are there, but also genuine concern.

Hello, thanks for the prompt!!!! This is definitely longer than a drabble but I had fun with it lol. And in my defense i didn’t know that apparently a drabble is only supposed to be like 100 words 😂😂 

It took a bit long to finish because I got sick myself midway through writing it lol. At least I can say that all the details for the sick parts are based on fresh and recent first hand experience haha

But yea here it is!! Hope you enjoy!! :)

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

Twilight does not forget things. Least of all mildly important things, like his umbrella on a day when the forecast won’t stop bringing up the rain. And yet, when he reaches the hospital exit at the end of his shift, he realizes with a start that he’s left it at home, by the door in the umbrella stand. Despite his best efforts he makes it home soaked to the skin, rainwater dripping from his hair like it’s mocking him.

Yor takes his coat to hang in the bathroom, and Anya carries a whole pile of towels over to him. He takes just one, drying himself off as well as he can. But even after he’s changed into drier clothes he can’t shake off the cold, shivering all through the evening despite Yor and Anya piling blankets over him.

He brushes off their concerns, though he imagines it’s hard to take him seriously from underneath a mountain of blankets. He doesn’t think it’s anything to worry about, but he heads to bed a bit earlier than usual on Yor’s insistence. A little extra sleep probably won’t hurt.

He wakes up the next day with a deep seated ache in his muscles. The mere action of turning to check the time takes far more effort than it should, and his eyes burn as he squints at the clock in the low light.

He tries to get up, and promptly lies back down when his muscles scream in protest and his head spins. His senses come to him as if through fog, and he registers vaguely that his throat hurts and his room is way too warm. 

At first, he wonders if he’s just tired. There’s always some degree of exhaustion lingering in his bones, but he’s a master of staving it off, and not letting it influence the standard of his work. But it’s just past 6am, and he’s pretty sure this is the most he’s slept in ages.

Has he been poisoned? Some kind of nerve agent? He stares groggily at the ceiling, trying to clear his head. Even through the mental haze he knows it’s unlikely. No, this is probably just the result of the unholy union between the rainstorm he’d been caught in and weeks of getting a maximum of 3 hours of sleep per night.

Twilight groans in annoyance, making a new effort to get out of bed. This time he succeeds. Well, partially. The moment he stands up he has to sit down again, breath coming in short, frustrated puffs. 

He tries again. There’s work that need doing, he doesn’t have time to be sick. If he just manages to get up and douse himself in cold water, he’ll probably feel fine enough to at least deliver some reports. Moving at a quarter of his usual pace, he manages to make it to his door and halfway to the bathroom before Yor intercepts him with a greeting from inside the kitchen. 

“Good morning Loid, did you….” she trails off as she takes in his face. Whatever she sees causes her cheery smile to drop, and Twilight frowns. Surely it’s not that clear that he’s sick.

“Loid, are you alright? You look really ill!” Yor’s voice is filled with concern, and she rushes out of the kitchen to stand in front of him, studying him worriedly.

“I’m alright, Yor, don’t worry,” he says. It’s his least convincing lie ever, pathetic in everything from its delivery to the tone of his voice. “I just need a cold shower, and I’ll be fine.” He tries for a smile, knowing it looks feeble even before the worry in Yor’s expression deepens.

Twilight is just about to force out another half-hearted reassurance when Yor reaches up and puts a hand on his forehead, mirroring the action with her other hand on her own forehead. The contact and the proximity are the final straw for Twilight’s already struggling train of thought, and the protests die in his throat. 

Yor pulls her hand away suddenly, like she’d been burned. With how warm he feels, it seems fitting.

“I’m sorry- I just,” Yor stammers, gathering her hands together. Her concern for him seems to override her embarrassment, and for some reason Twilight feels vaguely flattered. “I didn’t mean to overstep, but Loid I think you have a fever.”

That checks out, given the headache and the warmness. With the sore throat, it might even be the flu. He doesn’t manage to say any of that, suddenly hit by a wave of lightheadedness. 

He must have stumbled, because Yor's hand is suddenly on his arm, steadying him.

"Loid, I don't think you should go to work today," Yor says, and she sounds nervous and firm all at once. “And fevers are best treated with lukewarm water, not cold.”

"I appreciate your concern Yor, but I have things to do," he starts, and he's vaguely aware of how petulant he sounds, like Anya asking to watch another episode of Spy Wars before bed. And speaking of Anya. "Anya needs to go to school as well, I need to help her get ready."

Yor's hand on his arm is cool against his flushed skin as she shakes her head resolutely.

"I'll help Anya get ready. You need rest, and that's more important than work," she says, and all of Twilight's inbuilt desire to be efficient at any cost screams in protest. 

"Just let me call work then," he says anyway, because despite that internal drive he has to admit that he's not sure he'll be particularly useful in this state. He must be getting soft. He’s persevered through injury and illness alike - it’s almost humiliating to be so incapacitated by a fever.

Yor nods, letting go of his arm to let him shuffle towards the telephone. He makes a quick call to Handler, who sounds equal parts amused and annoyed. He can almost see her raised eyebrows when he tells her he’s sick, but something in his voice must be convincing because she agrees to take care of his workload for the day and tells him to rest up. He scoffs at that, going to hang up.

"Take better care of yourself, Twilight," she says, just before he can lower the phone. "I know we give you a lot of work, but don’t neglect your health just to keep up with it.”

He mumbles something in return and makes his way back to his room. He catches a glimpse of Yor in the kitchen as he passes, filling a glass with water and gathering some medicine from the cabinet.

Lying down is a far bigger relief than he’d expected it to be, to the point that he barely registers the sound of knocking on the door, followed by Yor pushing it open. She hands him a glass of water and some pills, and he downs them, trying not to wince at how sore his throat feels. 

“I’m going to go to work now,” Yor says gently. “I’ll make sure Anya gets to school on time too, so don’t worry about her.”

She hovers above him, worried but seemingly unsure, and he does his best to give her a reassuring smile.

“Thanks, Yor,” he says, voice still annoyingly weak. “I’ll be fine, so don’t worry about me either.”

Yor smiles back, looking somewhat placated, though the worry lingers in the tightness of her smile. She closes the door gently behind her, and Twilight contents himself with half-listening to the sounds of Anya and Yor getting ready for the day, drifting in and out of sleep.

A while later Anya pops her head in to greet him and say goodbye, and he musters up enough strength to give her a weak wave and a goodbye in return.

Then he lies there, alone and in the dark, uselessly sick. Rest, Yor and Handler had both said, but his brain refuses to cooperate, racing with thoughts about the mission reports he really should have finished yesterday. Except it isn’t really racing, it’s trudging slowly through the mass of information he’d normally have no problem speedily sorting through. It’s frustrating, and it makes his head hurt more.

The longer he lies there the more restless he feels, like he could be making far better use of his time. To make things worse, his room is still far too warm. He squeezes his eyes shut more tightly, trying to force himself to sleep. If he sleeps, perhaps he’ll feel better more quickly, and then he can get back to work. But any sleep that comes is shallow and restless, and the stupid reports just won’t stop trying and failing to sort themselves out in his mind.

The clock reads 10am when Twilight gives up. Pushing himself up despite the way his body protests, he shuffles out to the living room, a folder of reports in one hand and a pillow in the other. The cooler air is pleasant against his skin, though the light stings at his eyes at first. 

Settling on the couch, he opens the folder and starts to read. He barely gets a few paragraphs in before what had been a mild headache morphs into a sharp pain behind his eyes. He squeezes them shut for a bit, finding relief in the dark. He repeats the cycle a few more times, until the headache gets to the point where the words on the page start to blur.

He’s vaguely aware of the fact that he’s started to tremble, and suddenly he’s glad he brought the pillow with him. It’s cooler out here, so maybe it’ll be easier to sleep for a while. The cacophony of aches and pains in his body lessens slightly as he lies down, and he feels himself drifting away surprisingly quickly.

Just a little sleep, he thinks. Just to get rid of the headache, and then he can get back to the reports.

When he opens his eyes, he’s back in his bed, and there’s sounds of movement coming from the kitchen. He lies still for a moment, disoriented and very confused. His room isn’t as stiflingly warm as before, and the clock tells him that it’s past 3pm. Alarmed, he tries to sit up, and finds that the feverish aches in his muscle have lessened, albeit marginally.

He looks around, trying to sort out the mess in his head. How on earth did he get back to his room without realizing?

Yor interrupts his thoughts by poking her head into the room, and her eyes light up when she sees him awake.

“Loid! Are you feeling any better?” she asks, coming to stand by his bedside.

“A bit,” he says, still mildly confused. “How did I- when did you…?”

“Ah,” Yor says, flushing lightly. “I came back early because I was worried, and I found you sleeping on the couch.”

Her expression turns disapproving. “You really shouldn’t work when you’re sick, Loid,” she says, frowning. “I understand wanting to be productive, but it shouldn’t be at the expense of your health.”

He feels oddly chastised, and nods silently. Yor’s expression melts into a small smile.

“I’ve made you some soup,” she says. “It’s the best thing for when you’re ill. I asked Camilla for the recipe, so I hope it tastes alright.”

Twilight nods again, filled with the trepidation that usually surrounds Yor’s attempts at cooking. Yor disappears out of the door, returning shortly with a bowl of soup and a glass of water on a tray. Despite her track record, the soup smells rather good, and Twilight can’t say he isn’t grateful for the kindness.

Yor hands him the tray, and he studies the soup. It looks good. It smells alright. Perhaps it’ll be fine to eat a bit. His stomach doesn’t tie into knots at the thought, so he plucks up his courage and takes a spoonful. And then another, and another, because it’s actually some really good soup. A surprised smile makes its way onto his face.

“This is really good, Yor,” he says, and despite everything there’s a note of genuine happiness in his voice. It’s nothing groundbreaking, a simple broth based vegetable soup, but it’s soothing and warming and Twilight finds that he appreciates it even more for the effort and care that went into making it.

Yor beams, and Twilight finds himself captivated by the sight.

“I’m glad to hear it!” she says, her smile wide and proud. Radiant. It causes a warm feeling in Twilight’s chest that he doesn’t think he can blame on the fever or the soup. He chooses to ignore it, tearing his eyes away from Yor and focusing back on emptying the bowl. Being sick is no excuse to indulge in things that aren’t relevant to the mission.

Oblivious to his brief internal battle, Yor sits on the bed next to him, chatting about her day and the process of making the soup. He listens, occupied by eating, interjecting here and there. It’s nice, and despite the lingering aches of the fever and his mind warning him not to get too comfortable Twilight almost feels peaceful.

“By the way Yor,” he says, when there’s a lull in conversation. “How did I get back here?”

Yor immediately goes red, eyes shifting everywhere. 

“I- I carried you over,” she mumbles. “It wasn’t too hard, and it was mainly because I was afraid that you’d hurt your back or your neck from sleeping on the couch, and when I brought you back it was way too warm in here, so I opened the window a little to let some fresh air in, and…” Yor seems to have realized that she’s rambling, trailing off.

Twilight doesn’t know what to say. The extent of Yor’s concern fills him with more of that warmth he doesn’t know what to make of. For almost all of his life, getting sick has been an arduous and solitary affair. He hasn’t really had anyone he trusted enough to help him through something as vulnerable as sickness. Miserably dousing himself in WISE provided medicines and trying to keep working through whatever coughs and colds came his way had become standard procedure for him.

But Yor’s smile is more soothing than all those medicines, and the soup is flavourful and gentle on his sore throat, and some emotion he can’t (won’t) label sweeps through him. He’s vulnerable in this state, he can’t work, and he still feels the aches and pains of the fever. And above all, indulging in domesticity is supposed to be out of the question. And yet there’s a deep seated contentment that settles in his core as he sits there and eats the soup, knowing that he’s cared for.

“Thank you,” he says, instead of addressing any of the feelings building in his chest. “I really appreciate you taking care of me like this.”

“It’s ok, I’m your wife,” Yor says seriously, before flushing and fumbling to amend her statement. “I mean, as your wife in this arrangement, it’s the least I could do.”

Twilight laughs, a quiet but genuine thing, and Yor smiles through the blush on her cheeks.

When the soup is finished, Yor leaves him to rest again with a promise to come back later. Settling back under the covers, Twilight finds that sleep comes a lot easier when his mind is filled with thoughts of Yor instead of trying and failing to analyze mission reports.

Over the next few days he recovers under Yor’s watchful eye, slowly but surely. She brings him soup and tea, and Anya comes to sit on his bed in the evenings, reading chapters from Spy x Wars to him.

There’s something soothing about the fact that they care about him enough to look after him like this. It can’t last, and he knows it, but Twilight selfishly relishes it all - the tenderness in Yor’s touch when she puts her hand on his forehead to check for returning fevers, the way Anya does her best to help out, the way Yor checks in on him throughout the day.

He still feels a bit useless being bedridden and unable to take on his usual workload, but he does his best not to think of it as going soft, or overindulging in domesticity. The severity of his sickness this time is probably the result of years of never allowing himself to recover from illnesses properly. So he lets himself rest, and if those days spent recovering are some of the most peaceful days of his life, no one has to know.

A week or two after he’s healthy again, Anya comes home sneezing. When he starts sneezing as well a few days later, Twilight begins to wonder if perhaps he should take more vitamins and start working on fixing his sleep schedule.

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

Hope it was a good read!!! I enjoyed writing it :D

[aceofshitposts]

5 QUESTIONS, 15 (or whatever).

Got tagged by @generatorcat and @glaciya ❤️

1. WERE YOU NAMED AFTER ANYBODY?

My birth middle name was also my paternal grandmother's name, so I was kinda named after her. But then I went and changed my legal name to something I liked better lmao so...

Ah shit. I did name myself after something. My middle name is now Draco 😂😂 BEFORE YOU JUMP TO CONCLUSIONS. IT WAS ACTUALLY ONE OF MY FAVOURITE NAMES DUE TO THE MOVIE DRAGONHEART and its my favourite constellation.... But I am also a Draco Malfoy apologist 😔

2. WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME YOU CRIED?

Uuuuh someone last week? I was in the throes of another bpd episode and having a Time

3. DO YOU HAVE KIDS?

Absolutely not. I'm not a child rearing kind of person. I've never really wanted children and I still don't. It's funny cuz of course the idea will come up when you're with friends like I'm school and I just sort of picked names to fit in but I truly was never able to actually picture myself as married or having kids or what I would want it to be like.

4. DO YOU USE SARCASM A LOT?

Oh yes haha I've been told my delivery is so dry that people have trouble telling if I'm actually joking or not 😅

5. WHAT SPORTS DO YOU PLAY/HAVE YOU PLAYED?

Used to play volleyball in school. Briefly did some track stuff.

Now I do dog sports like agility :) or well I will once Al is old enough. I used to do ability with my old boss's dogs and help teach the classes though.

6. WHAT'S THE FIRST THING YOU NOTICE ABOUT SOMEONE?

Oh that's tough. Uh usually whether or not I like them on fist instinct and whether I think they like me lol

7. EYE COLOUR?

Brown

8. SCARY MOVIES OR HAPPY ENDINGS?

I love both?? Scary movies though often compel me because there's like things going on and puzzles to work out

9. ANY SPECIAL TALENTS?

I can catch things without looking? Uuh, I wouldn't call this a talent but people are mystified by it anyway: my ability to get dogs to listen to me lol

It's all about persistence

10. WHERE WERE YOU BORN?

hospital, almost exactly one month early

11. WHAT ARE YOUR HOBBIES?

Video games, writing, art of various types, photography

12. DO YOU HAVE PETS?

Yes! I currently have a great pyrenees/gsd/golden retriever mix and I love him very much. He's 4.5 months now and such a sweetheart. He's doing really well with his service work training too but he's still got puppy brain lol

13. HOW TALL ARE YOU?

5'6"

14. FAVOURITE SUBJECT IN SCHOOL?

Honestly it's hard to say since I really struggled with school my whole life. I always loved evolutionary science, though, and still do.

15. DREAM JOB?

Running a wolf-dog sanctuary. These animals don't deserve what the get just because of people's ignorance and would love to run a place where they're safe and loved by someone who knows how to handle them.

Honestly I'd probably expand it to other unreleasable wildlife too but my main passion is canids.

Right now I'm settling for opening my own doggy daycare 😂

Another one would just to be independently wealthy and run my own little farm ala harvest moon/story of seasons and have like 15 dogs.

Gonna tag @yasmindifference @krizariel @nanapop @penumbra-twist

[theretirementstory]

Oh the delightful colours of autumn! I think the red leaves are Virginia Creeper.

So this week I feel as if I have been “the white tornado”! I had a lovely walk down to the river, obviously taking photos as I always do. I did miss the opportunity of photographing the train as it made its way from the last stop, Chaumont, to the next stop, Bar-sur-Aube, it’s final destination being Paris. I was too busy trying to take the above photo.

I took delivery of the new printer 😁, amongst all the blurb was a CD for installing onto the computer……. Oh I wanted to cry! However another bag of blurb contained information on how to install online. Well it took about three attempts but somehow (I know not how) it actually worked and I was able to print papers to my hearts content!

A visit to the doctors was on the cards too as I told the nurse about my swollen, red hot ankles and she said the dreaded word “phlebitis”. Typically, my ankles were still a little swollen but had no signs of redness or heat when I arrived at the doctors and he concluded that it could be water retention. So I was given tablets (yes more!) and he hoped that I would expel the water by the usual channel.

We had very, very heavy rain on Tuesday and as I had anticipated (by placing a bucket in the appropriate spot) the water started coming through the dining room ceiling yet again! I decided to ring the man who had been out to view it the year before, but had never let me have the estimate as he was going through a divorce! When he answered, I just gave my name and he said he would be with me “tout de suite”, which to be honest he was. He remembered my address, all about the problem and he asked if I would be in all day as he would bring the estimate later that same day. He kept his word, I was happy with the price (as last year he had been up on the roof investigating the problem) I signed the estimate making it a binding contract and he will come and do the work when we have a dry day. Hallelujah!

I had a phone call from the hospital changing the date of my CT scan from Thursday to Friday. Of course I was in panic mode! Taxi to be cancelled and booked for the next day but everything was fine. So off I went with a very polite taxi driver. Having attained 60+ years without any real marks on my skin ( a caesarean scar but that’s not noticeable) I have now had not one but two tattoos! 😂😂these will also not be visible as they are the tattoos for my radiotherapy. I am under the impression that the treatment will start in two weeks, but who knows I may get a phone call to go in earlier or later!

I decided to clear the wardrobe of all the items which are just too big for me now. There were five pairs of trousers which just hung on me, a skirt which may have wiggled it’s way down 😳, there were t-shirts and tops which I would have worn but would have hung on me again! I took it all to the charity shop. Then I started clearing out other areas, and then filled the car with “stuff”for the decheterie (tip). Holy smoke, I had things I had brought over from England which were still wrapped in bubble wrap, well I have been here over 6 years so I reckon it is safe to say I won’t be needing them. I have a lot of English books which I have read and I am going to meet up with a friend on Tuesday and she is going to take me to a charity shop, in deepest darkest Haute Marne, where she has seen English books. So as you can guess I am sorting out more bits and pieces to take. Plus I am going to check out the garage for more stuff to go to the decheterie.

After clearing the clothes, I was looking for some new jumpers. I saw a couple on the “sale rail” bought them and brought them home to try on, they were a perfect fit. Yesterday, I went out looking for other items and I got the bargain of the day, a skirt with 70% off the original price! I tried it on and it too fitted very well. I have had a productive week.

I have been “knitting Nora” working on the babies blanket. As I would like all the knitting sorted up earlier than the 24 November so that it is all ready for the Christmas Fayre.

Of course my week wouldn’t be complete without messages to French and English friends plus telephone calls to the UK too. I really don’t know how I fit all of these in as phone calls usually run for an hour (or more). ���As the old BT advert used to say “ it’s good to talk”.

Now it’s time for the records spot! This weeks offerings are “My Cherie Amour” by Stevie Wonder from back in 1969. I remember at school in the playground we used to listen to the charts on a Tuesday, on a little transistor radio. I loved this song and would sing along any time it was played.

The second song is “Question” by The Moody Blues. My first “real” boyfriend liked the band as well as Wishbone Ash, Led Zeppelin and others of their ilk. I got into the Moody Blues after “Nights in White Satin” was in the charts again in 1972 and strangely was seeing the same guy for the second time. He was still into Wishbone Ash etc whereas I was into Slade, T Rex, Bowie (for Mick Ronson) and Mott thé Hoople. 😂😂.

Let’s just give a quick mention to “The Daddy” who has been on “elderly relative duties” again this weekend. It will be the last weekend for a while. “The Trainee Solicitor” has had another busy week too, I hope he managed to take advantage of the extra hour in bed. “The Ex-Graduate” has had a couple of “rest days” this week but that was just to get her ready for a very busy week at work this coming week.

Jusqu’à la semaine prochaine.

[community-nerd]

Sat 8th Apr 2023

2 back-to-back days of hard graft and manual labour and my body feels like it falling apart! Is it obvious that I'm usually a desk job person? 😂 Looking forward to when my body adapts to the demands of the community garden.

Cornhill Community Garden

I had another bash at the garden today after I swung by Ian's to pick up the solar generator.

Martin was there to help and we managed to get all the turf and soil that was dug up yesterday laid down to prop up the ends of where the containers will go.

We were able to make a good start on the second container site and now both bits are well on their way to being level.

A very nice Turkish lady came to say hi and brought us tea and coffee to thank us for giving the community a garden. It was really, really sweet of her!

Shortly after that, Martin went home and I stayed on site to rake over the soil in an attempt to get it to dry out faster. Overall, the site was left looking much better than when we started.

It's pretty clear that we'll need to get some sand down to get the patches as level and stable as possible in time for the containers coming in. Without a strong and flat base of sand, the paving slabs will most likely break under the prolonged weight of the containers.

I had a look online and, for the amount we need, it's almost impossible to get it delivered - too bulky for a normal delivery, not bulky enough for a bulk delivery. Of course...

So I've sent a SOS out to the committee to see if anyone with a car is able to ferry me to and from a DIY shop to get sand in time for Monday's session with the volunteers. As of yet, no one's gotten back to me.

McDonald's

After some lunch and a rest, I made a start on the poster that will go up around the community to notify them of McDonald's Planning Application. This was sent to Martin for feedback.

I also started to take a look at the documents that McDonald's had submitted in their application, but it's all a bit over my head. I'll need to spend some more time on this tomorrow to make sense of it.

There are already lots of objections on the planning portal, which is promising. Safe to say, our community is not Lovin It...

[cable-knit-sweater]

Let Your Hair Down

By @cable-knit-sweater , @controlofwhatido, @cynefinhome & @sparkagrace

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Bucky Barnes

Word count: 1.6k

Rating: Teen

Notes: @controlofwhatido said “Someone needs to write a fluff fic about Bucky learning the 'plop' method that's been going around everywhere to really bring out his curls.” And we all had some thoughts. So here you go, Bucky finding his curly hair routine and becoming a YouTuber, Steve getting in the way because he can’t keep his hands off of Bucky. I apologize for the title card 😂

Bucky’s been on the couch watching these videos for over an hour now. Steve hasn’t paid much attention, but apparently it’s about hair, even if terms like “curly girl method” and “diffuser” and “sulfate free” mean nothing to him.

He tries to look over Bucky’s shoulder, and catches part of something that looks like a tutorial for doing curly hair. His lips curl into a smile. Bucky has always spent a lot of time on his hair. “That looks like it’d be a lot of effort, Buck,” he murmurs after the woman in the video shows the products she’s used once more.

Bucky stares up at him with a frown, then turns back to the video, shaking his head. Steve chuckles, but can’t resist running his hand through Bucky’s curls before he walks away.

A couple of days later, the door rings and a delivery guy drops off a bunch of boxes, all with Bucky’s name on them. “Uhm, Bucky?” He asks, walking into the living room with the boxes stacked in his arms. “Buck? I have a package for you.”

Bucky walks up to him, smirking. “I’m sure ya do,” he says, making Steve roll his eyes, but he can’t keep the smile off his face. Unfortunately, Bucky is more focused on the packages when he spots them than he is on Steve’s package, lighting up at the sight of them and taking them from Steve’s hands.

“I have to go shower,” Bucky announces, but he doesn’t move yet, just goes to open the boxes. He takes out multiple bottles, cans and tubs of product, different combs, and something that looks like a hairdryer, but comes with this weird attachment that Steve hasn’t seen before.

“What is all this?” Steve asks, like he can’t see they’re all hair products.

Bucky looks at him like he’s a little stupid, which, fair. “It’s for my hair,” he says dryly.

“Yeah, I can see that, but…don’t you already have stuff that works?”

Bucky shakes his head. “No, that’s not good for my hair. It dries it out. This is specifically for my curl type.”

“But…that’s so many products.”

“Steveee. I need to try out what works best, I’m not gonna put all of this in my hair at the same time.” Bucky goes to explain more about the products, and how he’s supposed to use them. Steve gets lost somewhere around the explanation of co-washing. Still, Bucky seems excited about all of this, so Steve smiles and just listens to him talk.

At some point, Bucky’s excitement is clearly getting too much for him to wait much longer, and Steve lets him go take that shower. He’s only a little disappointed that he’s not allowed to join him.

Thirty minutes later, Steve walks into the bedroom, finding Bucky just in his boxers and sitting in front of the mirror, using a t-shirt to dry his hair by…scrunching it. “What are you doing? Why not use a towel like- wait, is that my shirt?” he asks.

Bucky’s silence betrays him a little. “Uhm yes, it was the best thing to use for this?” He finally says, pausing the tutorial he was playing on his phone again.

Steve chuckles. “Didn’t want to use one of your own shirts, huh?”

Bucky’s head is tilted slightly, curls hanging over his face, but Steve can see him smirk a little through the curtain of hair.

He leaves Bucky to it when he gets slapped with a wet shirt for touching the weird hair dryer thing. It takes a long time for Bucky to finish doing his hair - even longer than usual - but when he walks into the living room, Steve can’t deny that the effect of whatever he did, is incredible.

Now, Steve’s always been a little obsessed with Bucky’s hair. He loves that he’s keeping it longer these days, loves to run his fingers through it, loves the way Bucky looks in the mornings: sleep soft and messy curls in his face. But whatever he did now…his hair looks even shinier than usual, perfectly curled. The satisfied smile on Bucky’s face makes it even better.

He holds out his hand to Bucky, pulling him into his lap. “Wow,” he breathes out. “That is really worth it, god you look good Buck.” Steve’s heart flutters a little at the sight of Bucky blushing and ducking his head down.

“You think so?” He asks.

Steve runs his hands through his boyfriend’s hair. “Yeah, whatever you did, it…it looks amazing.”

“Thank you,” Bucky murmurs, before frowning a little and pushing Steve’s hands away from his hair. “Don’t mess with it too much though, I’m FaceTiming with Nat later and I want to show her.”

“But I can mess with it after?” Steve asks, smirking.

Bucky presses a kiss to his lips. “Yeah, you can mess with it later,” he says back with a grin, getting out of Steve’s lap, probably just in case. Which is smart because Steve doesn’t think he can take his hands off Bucky much longer.

For some reason, Steve thought Bucky would just stick with this routine and that would be it. He’s wrong. Bucky tries out all the different products he’s ordered: masks, conditioners, leave-in conditioners, shampoos, gels, serums…Steve is still not sure what they’re all for, except the obvious ones.

He tries all of them out, asking Steve what he thinks, and usually Nat and Wanda too, because he doesn’t seem to trust Steve’s judgment. Which, yeah, he really shouldn’t, because Bucky could wear his hair in a messy bun every day and Steve would still think his hair would look perfect. The deliveries don’t stop either, new boxes of products arriving at their place almost every week.

One morning, when Steve’s just waking up, he can hear Bucky talking in the shower, but he doesn’t think much of it. Bucky’s been doing that more and more recently.

Slowly, he gets out of bed to get dressed and get started on breakfast. But when he looks through his dresser for a shirt, he can’t find any. He’s starting to get used to not having anything to wear because Bucky’s been using his shirts to “plop” his hair every time, and all his shirts end up wet or covered in product.

Still, he’s thinking about going through the laundry basket to see if there’s anything clean enough to put on. But then Bucky gets out of the bathroom, still talking…about his hair routine?

He’s holding his phone camera pointed at his face, recording himself. Steve stays seated on the bed, giving him a curious look. Bucky looks back at him appreciatively – clearly he doesn’t mind the lack of shirts either – but then continues his story, talking about the next start in his process.

Bucky sits down in front of the mirror again, showing the camera the leave-in product he’s about to apply. Apparently, he already stole the last of Steve’s shirts because he uses it to plop his hair when he’s done doing that. Steve just looks on, not realizing he’s doing it until Bucky pauses the recording and looks at him.

“Steve, what’s with all the sighing?”

Steve smiles. “Nothing. Just love watching you do this.”

“Can you do it a little quieter? I’m trying to explain my routine to people.”

“Aren’t there hundreds of videos already of people doing that?”

“Yes, Steve, there are, but almost none for men. And not so much for my hair type. I’m trying to make men feel good about their longer curly hair too.”

Steve melts at that. “That’s…that’s amazing, Buck,” he says softly. “I’ll be quiet?”

Bucky smiles back at him. “Okay, then you can keep watching.” He winks at Steve before going back to his recording.

At some point, Steve can’t help himself anymore. Bucky’s done with his routine so he’s sure he’ll stop recording soon. He gets off the bed and walks over, doing his best to stay off camera.

When he’s next to Bucky, he’s suddenly hit with the overwhelming urge to have his hands in Bucky’s hair. He gives in to that urge, running his fingers through the soft, slightly wet strands.

“STEVE,” Bucky yells only a second later. Before Steve can respond, he gets water sprayed in his face. Bucky stares at him, incredulous, holding a spray bottle in his hands. “You can’t touch it until it’s set, you’re gonna make it frizzy!”

Steve has to laugh at the reaction. “You mean if I do this,” he asks, running his hands through Bucky’s hair again.

“No, bad boy, stay away,” Bucky says, spraying him again, but he’s laughing too. “Also, go put a shirt on or something. People thirst over you enough as is, begone!”

Steve tilts his head, picks up the wet shirt from the ground and puts that on. It’s a little uncomfortable, but it’s worth it with how Bucky looks at him, eyes darkening, staring at his chest again.

Bucky turns around to face his camera. “Well, that’s it for now, I’ll link the products below, this was the Bucky Curl Method, I’ll see you next week,” he rushes out before stopping the recording. He gets up, crowding Steve a little.

“You’re a punk, you know that?”

“I can’t help it,” Steve says, hands in Bucky’s hair again. “Just look so good when you’re doing that. How am I supposed to keep my hands to myself?”

Bucky pushes his head a little more against the palm of Steve’s hand. “Hmm, maybe…” he says, closing his eyes. “Maybe I’ll do another tutorial. Still a lotta products I need to try and review.”

“Yeah?” Steve breathes, pulling Bucky closer to him. “Does that mean I can mess it up now?”

Bucky smirks at him. “Yeah, you can mess it up.”

And Steve - as much as he loves how perfect Bucky’s curls look right now - has never been able to say no to that.

[dystopicjumpsuit]

Thank you so much! I'm so glad you enjoyed; I truly love writing these two and their dumpster fire of a romance.

you have such a gifted way of writing these richly detailed stories. I always feel immediately pulled into the world

Damn, that such an incredible compliment, especially coming from you! I was going on and on to my partner yesterday about how immersive your writing is, how whenever I read one of your fics I feel completely transported into the world, like I can see the color of the light and hear the sounds as I read.

Neyo’s icy exterior and borderline aggression being used as a mask or self-defense mechanism

Not to uwu-ify him too much, but I just have a really hard time imagining any of the clones as being irredeemable, even if they're described as "disturbingly cold" and "morbid" in canon. The other thing is, we're seeing this almost entirely from the bad-miral's perspective, so his redeeming traits can only be glimpsed through her fairly unreliable POV.

Personal headcanon: he's got a dark sense of humor and a dry delivery, so people think he's being serious when half of the time, he's just making self-deprecating jokes. No projection there whatsoever. Any resemblance to the author is purely coincidental 😂

Everybody Hates Neyo Round 2: Matchmaking Boogaloo

A/N: This is a standalone sequel to “Everybody Hates Neyo,” (NSFW) by @dystopicjumpsuit​ (that’s me), and “The Blacklist,” by the brilliant @blueink-bluesoul​, who also generously let me borrow the character of Daria Trace (THANK YOU!). You don’t need to read those fics to understand this one, but you should because they’re great and they provide more background. I converted the Reader-insert into an OC because to be frank, she’s a piece of work, and I didn’t want to project that onto my readers. That said, as always, feel free to insert yourself into the story if you prefer; I haven’t described the OC beyond being a woman with hair long enough to pull.

Pairing: Commander Neyo x the Admiral (formerly Fem!Reader)

Rating: M | 18+ | Minors DNI

Wordcount: 6.5K (I know)

Warnings and tags: toxic, obsessive behavior; SO MUCH SMUT; hatefucking; rough sex; oral sex; PIV; hair pulling; biting; sex under the influence of alcohol; Neyo and the Admiral being absolute menaces to society

Disclaimer: Let me just put on my Auntie DJ hat for a second. *ahem* This is a work of fiction intended for entertainment only. Please do not take this as a guide to romance or a healthy relationship. Neyo and the Bad-miral are flawed characters in a wildly problematic relationship with more red flags than the Fire Nation. Enjoy!

Keep reading

[leoneliterary]

I love this IF so incredibly much and I just think you’re doing such a fantastic job bringing your characters to life. Sutek is the loml and the mental image of him telling drunk!MC that their lover is dead had me CACKLING if you have time omg I would love to read a snippet of that! I just imagine theMC bursting into tears just absolutely inconsolable bc their love is “dead” and Sutek trying desperately to backpedal and reassure them he was joking😂

Thank you so much!! This is such a funny scene to me! Especially because his delivery is dry enough to be convincing.

(One thing I will say though is that Sutek and most of the ROs, except Desma, aren't the type to get super drunk or to let you keep throwing back drinks.)

Sorry I'm it's so late, but here is some Sutek for you! Also here is the other drunk ask in question.

He places his hand on top of your drink, smiling slightly when you still try to lift it to your lips.

"You've had enough. Let's go home," he says and you ignore him, instead struggling to get up from the table. You finally do, and even take a step before you're tripped up. Quickly he's by your side, supporting you almost completely, with his arms wrapped around you.

"Are you alright?" he asks as he caresses the side of your face, admiring you for a moment.

You lean into his touch slightly, before smacking his hand away.

"None of that!" you say as you struggle to get away from him.

A sting of hurt ripples through him. Where you drinking because of him? Had he upset you?

You continue to squirm, but he doesn't let you go, worried that you would crash face first onto the street.

"Look, I have someone I'm trying to go home to and I can't do that with you clinging onto me," you say and it finally sets in.

You're too drunk to recognize him.

You continue to try to get him to leave. "I am taken! Happily taken! Find someone else to go home with!"

You not recognizing him was both laughable and endearing. You declaring your happiness with him just made the situation even better. As he looked at your infuriated face he felt himself warm and melt. But then another idea took root.

He can't help the grin that takes over his face.

"So you have a lover?" he asks, holding in a laugh as you nod vigorously.

"No you don’t. He’s dead. I’m your lover now.”

He watches your face crumble and immediately regrets saying it.

Tears well in your eyes and your breath quickens, you let out a low cry that turns into a wail, causing people leaving the tavern to look at the two of you in alarm.

"Sutek is dead? Take me to him! Sutek!" your tears wet his shirt and while he isn't sure if your drunken reaction would be an accurate portrayal of you grieving his death, he knows he doesn't want to ever put you through it. He thought you would focus on the 'new lover' part, not the 'Sutek is dead' part, but now he sees that he was very wrong and wishes he could take back his dumb joke.

"I'm not dead. MC. MC. MC, I'm not dead," he tries to tell you, even shaking you slightly but you just keep crying. Time to change tactics.

Leaning you against a wall he speaks to you softly. "He's not dead."

You look at him with teary eyes and he holds himself back from wiping them away.

"Not dead?" you ask and he quickly nods. "

"Not dead. I'll go get him," he tells you and he quickly runs around the corner. Counting to three he reappears and prays that it worked.

"MC, I'm here," you open your arms to him and he thanks the heavens that that worked.

"Sutek, someone told me that they killed you!"

"No." he says shaking his head as the two of you walk home. "I killed him, don't worry."

[coraclavia]

Cora Watches: Kate Mulgrew in "Manions of America"

Today on Cora Watches, we find ourselves back in 1981, watching a 6-hour miniseries (5 without commercials) set in the mid-1800's. And yes, it's Manions, not Mansions. At first I had assumed that was a typo.

The story follows Rory O'Manion, a young Irishman working in the stables of the English aristocrat, whose daughter is Rachel (Kate's character). We see the local Irish population suffering under English oppression during Great Famine and potato blight. Rachel's father is Rory's landlord, and the English are bleeding Ireland dry in rent and taxes while Ireland starves because their staple crop (potatoes) won't grow. Things happen, tensions rise, and Rory leaves for America, and if you're thinking he just happens to see Rachel again there, well. That's an excellent guess.

This is just the beginning; it's an epic story that covers many years, stretching all the way through the American Civil War.

Regarding spoilers: I'm not going to spoil this one too much for you, so feel free to read through and enjoy the pretty pictures.

Most notably, this miniseries stars Pierce Brosnan. This is right before he got Very Famous; Manions of America premiered in 1981, and Remington Steele started in 1982. His first James Bond film was GoldenEye (1995).

First of all, let's get the obvious out of the way. They are a damn attractive couple. Look at that Hint of Scruff���.

It's such a great pairing: she's the rich English aristocrat, he's a rough-and-tumble Irish stablehand, and you better believe they're verbally sparring from the literal moment they meet. Mulgrew and Brosnan have amazing chemistry. I think this is an instance of a script that's already perfectly fine, and is then blessed with two leads who definitely elevate it.

Trivia: Have you heard the story about Kate Mulgrew flatly refusing to ride horses for anything on Star Trek because of a bad experience? It was in this series! Her horse got spooked one day during filming, and apparently Pierce Brosnan had to gallop in to save her. She got freaked out, understandably, and decided, Nope, no more.

But at least she got to wear this badass riding outfit.

Honestly it's like every costume is more fabulous than the last one. I could make an entire post of just pictures of her in increasingly awesome dresses, and let's hear it for her curling iron. It worked hard in this production.

We really get to see the personal side of the conflict; Rachel's English, in love with an Irishman, and her English brother falls for an Irish girl. It's really nice to see the conflict so present and real for these characters. There is angst, there is secrecy, there is Clandestine Kissing.

She is Very Very into Rory, and I don't blame her.

Sneaking outside to talk to this hottie? I'd do it.

I won't spoil it all--the story covers years, and a lot happens--but this.

Here's something I thought about while watching: Kate studied acting in NYC, and often her delivery in historical things like this reminds me of older-school actors. She was born in 1955; she grew up in the era of westerns on TV like The Rifleman and Laramie, and she probably saw and learned from actors trained with that stoic, semi-British delivery handed down from the theater. It is very weird watching her do a British accent sometimes, especially because I happen to know she was born and raised in Iowa. But that could just be a me thing.

Reminds me a little of her gothic holonovel, no? 😂😂

Other interesting cast: Pierce Brosnan's siblings in this include Nicholas Hammond, who played Friedrich in The Sound of Music (1965), and Linda Purl, who would go on to play Pam's mom Helene Beesley in The Office.

Do I recommend this: Yes! Wholeheartedly. It's a little soap-opera-y, but not in a bad way. Brosnan and Mulgrew are absolutely wonderful. And production value is great, especially considering it's made for TV, not a feature film. Pierce Brosnan and Kate Mulgrew make this such a joy, and I wish there were ten more movies with them together.

As of writing, it's viewable on youtube (part 1, part 2, part 3).

[springgirlwaiting4fall]

Hey lovely,

I know I've just sent you one of these, but I am a little grumpy today (for reasons unknown), so your answer will cheer me up!

Imagine having a case of the grumps like I do now. Pick an AEW Talent and make them try to cheer you up. What would they do? Would it help or make things worse?

(But wait, there's more)

Now imagine the situation being switched. Now they are grumpy, and you qant to help them feel better. What do you think might work? Does it in the end?

Love ya!

Uh being grumpy is the worst and honestly I’m never just grumpy. I go to 0 to 200 in a half a second. I pity those who have to be around me when I’m mad, unless I’m in a bad mood because of them…than f those fools.

I’m going to have to pick Santana for this one, I have not been focusing on him as much as he deserves. 😂 And look at him he is adorable and he needs all my love

Okay So here is the thing about me, things that should make me angry don’t actually make me angry. Instead I let all the little things build up into I explode. Santana was luckily able to notice this pretty early in our relationship.

Today was just one of those days, the night before I ran the dryer and for some reason it didn’t actually dry my work clothes. So in the morning Im late to work waiting for my clothes to dry. I have to work through lunch, and a couple other things just keep adding on to my day. My blood pressure tips over when I get home and trip over Santanas bag he left in the hallway.

If this was in our first 6 months of dating, he would have laughed and told me it wasn’t that a big of deal. But now he sees that my light brown are darker. And they are tearing up. Because when I’m at my breaking point I start to cry, which only makes me angrier.

“I’m sorry baby girl,” Santana apologizes and moves his bag. Than immediately wraps me in a hug and kisses the top of my head. “Go get change and let me take care of you.” I use the breathing techniques my therapist taught me, while I’m pressed against him, inhaling his scent.

When I’m changing he orders way too much delivery and makes sure they have coke and dessert. Those two are the most important part of my angry binge eating meal.

While we wait for our food, Santana listens to me complain about my day while he cracks my knuckles and toes. (Because I am a dumpster on fire disguised as a human being and I love it). He also just listens and let’s me vent. He doesn’t try to fix my problems either. He just listens.

After the food gets here and I eat all my problems away. While I make Santana cheat on his diet and work out plans. We spend the rest of the evening talking, watching a movie or one of our shows. If it’s been a lot building up he sets up Mario party or plays one of my 100 different versions of Monopoly I own.

By the end of the night I am feeling a lot of better but still have a lot of left over adrenaline. And if this is too much Information sorry I’m advance, but when I get angry I also get horny. So when Santana and I go upstairs for the night, he knows exactly what it I need. To be dominated and put back in my place.

Santana doesn’t let the little things bother him or let them build up. It honestly depends on the day, one day someone could come up to him and punch him in the face and he would laugh about it. Other days I could be bailing him out of jail.

It’s pretty obvious when Santana is pissed off or just having a bad day, because he gets so quiet. Santana is pretty quiet on a normal basic, but this is different. An uncomfortable silence, where he is just zoning out.

And you know how I am with uncomfortable silences, my skin practically burns to say something…anything. So when we first got together it was BAD. My go to was to try and make him laugh. Be obnoxious, loud, say silly things; this however only made him more annoyed and withdrawn.

We were dating for 4 months when he picked me up for a date and as soon as I got in his car I could just tell something happened. So I tried my usual technique and kept trying and trying, until he exploded at me. We than had the most uncomfortable dinner at the Olive Garden. We all seen the couple at a restaurant that just look like they hate each other, but they invested too much time until the relationship to break up. Yeah that’s what we look like and we didn’t talk when he dropped me off. The next day I called him crying telling him I’m sorry and what should I should do next time, because I still want to be with him bad days and all.

“I just need you to be there with me, even if its just sitting there being quiet.” It started to get a lot better after that. And now when Santana is pissed off I know exactly what to do.

So when he came home one day from the gym, we had breakfast together and he was completely in his head, I asked him to go on a walk with me. He held my hand and I rested my head on his shoulder while we walked around Brooklyn in silence.

“Do you want to talk about it?” I asked when we were on the way home.

“Not yet baby girl,” and he squeezed my hand. A little sign that he didn’t want to talk, but he also didn���t want to be in his own head anymore. So I spent the rest of the walk telling him about my morning and about a book I was reading.

By the time we get home he is telling me what happened. I listen and give my opinion and advice. Sometimes he takes it and sometimes he doesn’t. Santana is his own man with his own morals and experiences so I know he will do what he thinks is best.

Together we go upstairs and make slow passionate love. It’s his way of showing me that just because he is moody, that it has nothing to do with me.

I know you sent me this awhile ago, so if your still in a grumpy mood I’m just going to have to fly to Germany and put my foot up whoever/whatever is bothering you.

[outercrasis]

Untitled Din/Frank one shot?? I'm curious!! Pls tell me more? 🥺💖

Oooh yes- this one is basically porn with the smallest, tiniest hint of a plot 😂 (I got stuck on it, but hopefully the break I gave it will give me some fresh eyes)

Here's a lil sneak peek:

Din shakes his head. "Sorry mesh'la, too big of a risk. Stay here and keep Frank company."

You're glad Frank doesn't bother with looking up. If he did, he would have seen the bullshit teasing smile pulling at the corners of Din's lips despite his dry delivery giving nothing away.

[the-lonelybarricade]

Hi! I saw your post about being an American living in London, I’m studying abroad in Southwest London in the fall and I was wondering how the adjustment was?

Hi love! I saw this ask and then immediately felt all knowledge about the differences between the US/UK immediately flee my brain. So I’m sorry if this isn’t helpful 😂 But you’re more than welcome to ask me any questions you have! I’ve been living here for almost 4 years now and I don’t remember the adjustment period being too severe? Sometimes it feels like you’re in a parallel universe where a lot of stuff is the same but there are still some noticeable differences.

First get used to turning some heads as soon as you speak! In London, especially near and around your uni people will be used to seeing tourists and international students but if you go anywhere else it’s a bit more of a novelty to meet an American, so you’re bound to get some intrigued looks and many people will want to know where you’re from (they’re asking because they already know) and more importantly why you’re there. People here generally aren’t very patriotic and in meeting new people I almost always have to explain my reasoning for choosing to live in England of all places. (And they never believe me when I tell them I love it). I’d say there’s a pretty even divide between people who will judge you for being American and people who will be fascinated with you, but as long as you approach everything with an open mind most will respond in kind! 🥰

I obviously don’t know what part of the US you’re from, but where I came from there was almost nothing in the way of public transport whereas here you can go pretty much anywhere you want without a car (I’m not even licensed to drive yet in this country and I’ve rarely suffered for it). Fair warning though that trains can get pretty expensive. (London in general is very expensive). If you’re going to be there for a while and you’re planning on travelling via the railway system I would recommend getting a railcard/student oyster card cause it adds up quickly!

As far as cultural differences people are a lot less outwardly friendly here, especially in London. Don’t let it hurt your feelings! They just need to warm up to you a little bit first. I still smile and wave at people on the street and my (Londoner) bf laughs at me for it. Also communication is a lot more subtle. I remember being so lost in conversations when I first got here for typically three reasons: 1. Hard to understand accents (there’s like 5 different accents in London alone) 2. Slang (I would recommend looking up some British slang and maybe even cockney rhyme slang, although the people you meet will have fun explaining it to you). 3. Conversational subtext. There’s an artform in the UK of never actually saying what you mean but rather hinting at it through a series of polite social cues that, if you weren’t brought up to recognise, is SO confusing. I can’t think of any examples off the top of my head but I think you’ll see what I mean when you get here. I’m sure you’ll make some friends who will help you navigate that kind of stuff, and for the most part people will take pity on your American-ness.

Another thing worth mentioning is that the British sense of humor can sometimes come off a little bit mean to the American pallate? People here "take the piss" out of each other almost 24/7 and honestly sometimes the more they like you, the more merciless the teasing. Also the delivery can be very dry/deadpan so sometimes it can be hard to tell that they're joking. I think that was maybe one of the things I struggled with the most coming here, but really all you can do is let it roll off your back because if you're reactive to it they'll just make fun of that too 😂

Overall I think you’ll find that people will be patient with you while you adjust, especially at your Uni where most people are actively seeking friends. Also the British for the most part are exceedingly polite and will help you if you ask! There are so many lovely people here and I’m sure you will have such a blast! 🥰

[minisugakoobies]

Junior year your family hits the lottery. Hurray! You know what sucks about it though? You lose financial aid! Boo! And your parents think your education is your responsibility so they're going to make you pay for your senior year.

You luckily get a work study job at the library as well as able to be an RA. However your floor includes the most rambunctious group of penis heads you have ever encountered. Who is the one that threatens your job the most?

Jin - Tries to microwave EVERYTHING. Including a dry towel once. Didn't look good that your first week on duty that the fire department was called. He also constantly asks to use your kitchen. A simple meal turns into a 10hr prep where he needs to marinate meat for at least 48 hours in your fridge because it won't fit in his. He comes back at odd hours to "check his meat" aka keep using your kitchen.

Yoongi - Constantly high or passed out. Pretty sure he's growing his own supply in there. But also has a lot of visitors that "swing by". And he has a blacklight.

Hobi - Whenever he thinks everyone is out or asleep, he walks around the halls naked. During your rounds, you caught him having sex in the staircase with a freshman that has a reputation for shitting in front of her own door when drunk (there was a girl in my class like that).

Joon - Very messy. Stench coming from his room. You hear his alarm all the way down the hall and can hear whenever he trips over something because you swear it shakes the whole floor. Constantly getting yelled at by the other guys on the floor for breaking one thing or another. You feel bad when he comes to tell you until he accidentally knocks your laptop off your desk and cracks the screen. He offers to pay you back for the repair but can't give the money up front.

Jimin - Very cordial and always willing to help you. Says you don't need to make excuses to see him. Very flirty when sober but very loving when drunk. Will come to your room smelling like liquor (not allowed in dorms) and want endless hugs. Don't turn your back on him for too long because he may just climb naked into your bed and pass out. Always offers to take you to breakfast in the morning but he won't wake up before 2pm.

Tae - No matter how many times you tell him, he doesn't listen. No smoking in his room, goes to smoke in the bathroom. No hot plates in the room, plugs it into the laundry room. Often comes you for advice you know he won't take or ask you to help him pick out an outfit or gift for his grandma or takeout. Multiple occasions he overpays the delivery drivers with a $100 bill for a personal pan pizza and lets them keep the change. He's just a little lost rich boy.

Jungkook - Always quiet. Always wearing black. You only see him when he's walking to class. Only know he's in his room because he's blasting music or has a girl screaming his name. Anytime you try to confront him about it, he gives you a blank look and doesn't respond. Only time he comes to you for help is when your bowl of condoms outside of your door is empty. When you tell him you don't have anymore to give him, you see him pissed for the first time and hear him having sex EXTRA loud that night. The other guys on the floor are pissed so he turns his music EXTRA loud as well. He can't hear and the only way to stop him would be to walk into his room.

-Blooobs

I think I forgot to tag one of my asks....

PENIS HEADS 😂

Congrats to my family, but now I’m cursed with these men? Fantastic.

Jungkook sounds like an awful neighbor - I hope my room isn’t next to his. But I can deal with loud music and screaming.

Taehyung sounds lost. He just needs some guidance. Unfortunately, doesn’t sound like it sinks in, but I won’t lose my cool over him.

Jimin also seems like he could use a little lesson in how to hold his booze, but he’s not making me regret being an RA.

Namjoon… bless his heart. It’s not his fault that his limbs go rogue sometimes. He’s a big man, maybe the messages get lost on the way down from his brain.

Yoongi is not a problem as long as he doesn’t have too many visitors dropping by. As a matter of fact, I’m probably hiding out in his room as much as possible.

That leaves Jin the fire hazard and Hobi the nudist. Ugh. I’m not thrilled that Jin’s always in my kitchen, but as long as he stops trying to nuke everything, we’ll get along fine. But Hobi, jfc dude, keep it in your room!! (And I hope that girl in your class stopping drinking so much 😳) Hobi’s exhibitionism definitely has me at my limit.

I don’t know why but I picture this ^ for this ask

[lpfreakification]

Xmas (+ work) was ok

Work was surprisingly slow this year. Guess people did their shopping, are broke, traveled, + the wind chill's been brutal. Had 4 or 6 deliveries.

The main adventure was picking up KFC for my coworker in the middle of the shift. I like it when they send me on an errand/mission/side quest XD it's a nice break from monotony :)

*chops my nails off*

(Much better for texting!)

The KFC crew was playing a certain Mexican xmas song in the back.

Me: "Oh no!" XD

KFC lady: "What's wrong?"

Me: "oh! Nothing at all! It's just that song reminds me of my childhood."

KFC lady: "I'll go change it."

Me: "no no no no no, its actually a funny memory. When I was a kid, on the way back from xmas parties, I'd use to rock my head back + forth to this song."

I just keep smiling + thinking of the many times I've done that 😂 I dont like showing my interest of the song in front of fam. Every time they bring it up, they like to rub it in my face in a way. Thus, I frown. Its definitely a guilty pleasure.

When I got home from work, I went straight up to my room. People were in the house XP I knew it was coming but I really dont like to interact with family (when they're physically present). I wont say my reasons again bcuz it's too long.

Instead, I wrote + painted my brothers' names on yellow envelopes. I placed a Dunkin gift card for Elias + 5 packs of pokemon cards for Freddy. Then I wanted to do something shiny for my sister's husband. It helped me avoid people :P

The hour b4 midnight, I ate posole, French silk pie, + brownies. I found two pillows + a hidden corner behind the wine cabinet for me to lay there. For some reason, I kept tapping my foot. I figured out that it wasn't really anxiety (only a little bit) but it felt sorta meditative. It's not the 1st time I felt this sense of peace from foot tapping. (1st time was at a different church).

When midnight struck, everyone came up to the tree. I had to stand + say hi. Didn't look forward to that. I just stood there disgruntled. I snoozed as the little kids opened their presents 1st. Then it was the adults' turn.

I got:

Smoothie skittles

Starburst

A fancy candy apple

9 pairs of food socks XD

A nice fitting brown jacket from Super-Dry X3

Blue gloves

A kh coaster

A blue kh shirt :)

A gray long-sleeved shirt

A red sweater closely resembling my OC

A makeup palette? (I am 100% not a makeup person XP + definitely the least favorable thing I've been given. Luckily the giver already left b4 I opened that. Just, no.)

A fancy winter coat

A corgi sticker :3

A book about the FAQ of the universe

I gifted myself 4 hand sanitizers from Bath + Body Works, 2 yaoi manga, + OHSHC stickers :D

I definitely remember not taking my meds on purpose this morning as an excuse to really sleep in (better not ever make a habit of that). I nearly mistaken my q-tip box for my medicine box. I dreamt of my parents dropping me off to a gang school + i was pursuing a former classmate to retrieve a textbook that they've "borrowed" from me. It definitely felt like hours wandering around the same building.

I woke up, ate some more posole, + played two rounds of Jumanji XD that board game really does make you exercise.

"We should play that more often." XD

I continued with watercolor experiments again until I got hungry again. Ate, finished choosing a certain blue watercolor, + been lazy-ing around watching cat videos X)

Now that that's done...

ITS TIME FOR THE MAIN EVENT!

KINGDOM HEARTS: BIRTH BY SLEEP

*sets up game*

(Let's go!)