#just. what a breath of fresh air to see a man in the industry with such deep respect and appreciation of young women and their art

[hyacinth--girl]

Noah Kahan collecting friendship with young female singer songwriters like infinity stones is the most wholesome timeline yet

[frmisnow]

total loser. ⊹₊⟡ nsfw.

summary. crashing a party just to unwind? yeah, that was the plan — until you end up sharing a smoke with the lead singer of that metal band. turns out the ‘playboy sex god’ image? total myth. awkward, tipsy, and apparently… a virgin?! this night just got interesting !

warnings / includes. all fictional ofc, smoking, drinking, suggestive themes, soft!dom reader

damned be after parties.

but long live your connections and well.. pretty face, that's what gets you in one of these special parties, pretty privilige is alive and breathing!

for the fact that this was an after party of a last tour show for one of the biggest metal bands right now, you'd imagine it to be a lot more expensive. these red plastic cups just don't cut it, and whose idea was it to squeeze so many people into one little room? that's the charm of the metal industry, i guess.

apropos charm of the metal industry?

you'd think somebody put something in your drink, the way you see the jungkook in front of your eyes right now? leaned up against a wall, nursing what looked like his fourth shot, hair messy like he just got of stage.

one of his bandmates stumbles past, slapping him on the back, and jungkook nearly loses his balance. He mutters something, barely audible over the music, brows drawn together in this adorable mix of annoyance and confusion. his eyes trail over the room before ultimately settling back onto the man in front of him, patting his back, a cigarette pack in his hand.

you made your way through the people, way to much sweat and way to close might i add, did you look obssesive? maybe. but the cold night air sounded heavenly and you could use a good smoke. plus, you'd rather come of as a groupie then get suffocated on the dance floor.

with each step, you felt the chaos of the party fade a little more. the fresh air hit your face like a slap, and you welcomed it, relishing the brief moment of solitude. But you weren’t the only one seeking a breather.

jungkook pushed off the wall, nearly colliding with you as you stepped outside. the cold night air was a relief, sharp and refreshing, cutting through the haze of noise and sweat. he fumbled with the cigarette pack, almost dropping it as he tried to shake one out, his fingers clumsy from the alcohol.

"need a light?” you offered, pulling your lighter from your pocket.

he met your gaze, a hint of gratitude in those dark eyes, before quickly looking anywhere else but you, “thanks. I usually don’t smoke, but—” he paused, taking a deep drag before exhaling a cloud of smoke. “i guess i just get… scared. so, i drink. and then i drink some more and then i start smoking, it's a bad habit.”

silence fell over the both of you, you didn't decide to pry since that'd just be rude. even though there were quite a few thoughts in your head. why was he scared? rather, who was he scared of?

after a while (and plenty of drags), jungkooks voice cut through the carefully established silence, small and quiet, a mumbling-like tone that made him seem tipsy, "i don't know i just want to feel something.." he trails off, shaking his head, clearly oversharing, "i mean no, i feel something when i'm on stage i just-"

he took a breath, taking another drag before ultimately stupping it out with his shoe, giving him another oppurtunity to not stare at you, "would you have sex with me?"

the next thing you knew, you were standing outside jungkook’s apartment, the door slightly ajar, a hesitant light spilling into the hallway. you weren't proud of it, but you also didn't have time to really think it through? teaching a hot rockstar virgin how to have sex? that sounds ai-generated and it was simply something you couldn't pass up on.

he fumbled with the keys, his fingers still shaky from the drinks or maybe that was just him, you'd seen his feet tap onto the floor multiple times throught the uber and his eyes never quite seemed to settle. maybe he was just a naturally anxious person, that's the impression he gave of.

the place was small but cozy, with a faint scent of lingering smoke and rock posters plastered across the walls, giving it an oddly inviting charm.

"i think you're really pretty." he managed to hold eye contact this time around, though he was clearly fidgety.

you smiled, genuinely, a rush of flush going straight to your cheeks, fuck weren't you supposed to be the compsoed one? yet he was so sweet in a way. "flattery won't get you anywhere but it's a nice start."

he grinned, walking ahead of you intot he kitchen, the small amount of alcohol he had in his system making him lose some balance in his step but he quickly recomposed himself, his eyes lingering on you for just a second longer then last time, "would you like some water?"

you don't think you've ever had anybody ask you if you wanted to drink water during a hookup, but you welcome the thought. see? so sweet, how would you even teach him sex?

"sure." you respond, shrugging, as he pours some in, "can i kiss you?"

he nods, the water in the glass swirling in small circles as he takes a step closer towards you—he's so close you can feel his breath on your skin, each one of his exhales and inhales—his eyes on you, "yeah."

his tone is quiet, but firm and his free hand slowly reaches to your waist, "can i touch you?"

you hush a 'yeah', closing the gap between the both of you, pulling your shirt of yourself.

as he grasped the lace of your bra, he hesitated, uncertainty flickering in his eyes. you guided his hands, gently tugging him on, the material falling away effortlessly.

"oh.." he gasped, like all the air had been knocked out of his lungs, eyes taking a quick glance on the now exposed skin in front of him—all of the tension he was carrying in his shoulders quickly disappearing.

he put the glass down on the nearest surface, "sit on the couch." he mumbled, breath shaky as he gently pushed you back.

"woah commanding now?" you raised your eyebrows, genuine surprise written over your face though you grin, walking down the hallway, sitting down.

"i'm a quick learner." he muttered, his eyes on you as he followed behind, quickly making his way on the couch, sitting incredibly close to you. he leaned forward, his body hovering over yours before he quickly put his mouth on your neck, leaving small kisses on the skin.

you encouraged him, tugging him closer, your fingers weaving into his hair as he found his rhythm. with every kiss, he grew bolder, his hands exploring the curves of your body like he was savoring something sweet.

you pulled him down with you, laughter escaping your lips as he stumbled slightly, catching himself with a grin.

“okay, maybe I’m not a pro at this,” he said, his cheeks slightly flushed. You smirked, enjoying his awkward charm.

you guided his hands, showing him how to touch, how to tease. the couch squeaked under you as you shifted positions, getting more comfortable. his kisses became more confident, more demanding, each one igniting a fire within you.

as his clothes started to come off, the atmosphere became charged. You watched as his eyes widened, a mix of surprise and desire flooding his expression. he was eager, and you were more than willing to lead the way.

you tangled your fingers with his, showing him what felt good, how to respond to your body. he mirrored your movements, following your lead, the shy, awkward dweeb from earlier replaced by someone more daring. you sucessfully managed to change a rockstar; that'd look good on a resume.

[satoruhour]

LEGIT JUST DASHED HERE FKJAKJLASDFKJL

TA! Nanami won't leave my brain so pleaseeee 🥺just him assisting you with lab reports by eating you out

❄️

(ANYTHING BUT) LAB HELP

a/n: icy you got me thinkin about my own TA and the failures in which i am too scared to cop him 😭😭😭 / this was purely fuelled by my own carnal need for nanami after last week’s episode because WHEEEEEWWW !

wc: 5.5k

warnings: fem!reader, TA!nanami, reader is a big simp for nanami but vice versa too, reader has long hair in this, slight age gap? since nanami is a TA (27 / 22), m! masturbation, fantasising, semi-public masturbation, oral (f! receiving) / cunnilingus, fingering, hair pulling, little praise, degradation, use of ‘slut’, unprotected sex, creampie / breeding kink, implied multiple rounds, n*sfw under the cut

the first time your TA walked in, your jaw drops. with a face and body like that, he should rightfully be in the modelling industry, not teaching you about dissecting and suturing mice and looking at atoms under a microscope.

all you know is that nanami kento was just like every teaching assistant — attending lectures just like the rest of the students, taking down notes for his tutorial and lab sessions, answering curious emails from everyone — but every interaction you had with this man was anything but normal, or at least that’s what you felt.

you’ve never viewed someone in such a deranged and filthy way before: pulling on his blonde hair and taking off that hideous cheetah print tie and telling him to his face that wearing a full suit while teaching makes him insanely older than he actually is; and also maybe after that, to push him right down to your cunt where he’d eat you out like you deserve.

“i just don’t get why he needs to use a suit at twenty seven years old just to teach — you’re doing your masters, like calm down a little.” you mumble more to yourself than your friend, but she likes every juicy detail you have about this attractive TA you keep talking about even if you sound like you hate him with how much you talk about the damn suit all the time.

but your friend only knows that if you could get his trousers, suit jacket, tie and shirt off of him, you would in a blink of an eye.

“maybe he wants to impress.”

your mouth twists, “who? only person he should be impressing is me.”

it’s all in good fun, with the way you’re talking — in reality, you don’t know what you’d do if the opportunity really presented itself to you. gossip, your legacy (or shame) carried by mouth, expulsion from the university, there were countless of unfortunate things if you do decide to go for the teaching assistant meant purely to help students in better understanding the material.

but it wasn’t one-sided. all those glances you thought nanami was sending you weren’t imagined, nor was it because you thought he was squinting due to bad eyesight. he remembers your name from the first tutorial he taught you, caught you lingering around the lecture hall, helps you a little too much during lab sessions and every time, he’s inexplicably drawn to you and your aura.

“good afternoon, ladies,” the familiar deep and collected voice snaps you out of the conversation, heart beating a hundred miles. you were in no way prepared for this, but you’re grateful for even one meeting out of class. your friend is insufferable though — from your peripheral you can see her giving the two of you a sick grin, “any chance i could ask for directions to this particular room?”

that was another thing; nanami wasn’t from this university. having completed his degree in another, he took his masters in the one you’re attending, wanting a breath of fresh air from the four years of his time in kyoto. that’s what you remember from his introduction, amongst many other things: he liked neutral colours, he’s interested in the philosophy of aesthetics, and he loved bread.

“babe, i’m going to head off for a class,” lies. she had no classes today at all, “see you tomorrow!” she bows briefly to nanami who only shoots her a tender smile and you turn to the side to bite your fist. you’ve become good at containing your reactions, though.

“oh! nanami-san, of course. headed there for a class?”

what kind of stupid question is that? of course he w—

“i’m heading there for a seminar, actually, starts in about,” he checks his watch, “10 minutes. the uni invited an external professor to give a talk that merges both the philosophical aspects of questioning life alongside the functions of the body, sparking thoughts of science and philosophy. thought it’d be interesting.”

you swallow and you swear you can feel your core pulsing. hot, intelligent and always pushing the boundaries and capacity of learning? you could only thank the gods that it was a cooler day, not being able to do anything if you actually do melt into a puddle.

“y-yeah! yeah, i know where it is.” you don’t, but the rooms are usually lined up pretty nicely, and you know you would be able to guide him successfully without much trouble; but when you’re checking the seminar room, you realise that they may have changed venues.

“crap . . five minutes. nanami-san, do you think maybe they sent a follow-up email with the change in location?” you’re more on edge than nanami is because you usually don’t like to be late for anything, recalling the jumble of numbers and letters he showed you earlier and lining them with the label plates outside the room.

“uh— oh, shit. yeah, i might’ve shown you the wrong email.” your jaw drops when you see the new venue.

“that’s . . on the other side of campus, nanami-san.”

“how long will it take?”

you wince at the disappointment on his face, “if you take the campus bus, at least fifteen minutes.”

nanami’s understandably mad at himself for his own mistake, knowing he’d miss a good chunk of the talk whilst travelling there, but he’s distracted from his self-loathing — taken aback at the quickness in which you offer to drive him.

“uh . . it’s probably maybe eight minutes there by car. my car’s parked close by if you want a lift—”

and nanami thinks it’s simultaneously the perfect and terrible day to send his car to the mechanics and settle for public transport. perfect because he might accept your offer to be close to you, terrible because he would much rather you sit in the passenger sit of his car rather than the other way around.

nanami forgets to be modest in your presence, so he accepts it without a second beat and follows you in a jog to the parking lot. there are scattered vehicles, possibly belonging to professors and maybe students, and the both of you come to an everyday looking corolla.

“okay! unlocked. i’ll try to speed and get you there in four minutes.” nanami can only manage a soft thank you, touched by your generosity and even more drawn by the determination in your face. with a turn of the ignition key, the man clutches onto the seatbelt as you lurch forward with the acceleration, and then you’re taking off.

you’re not the best driver, driving past yellow lights and terrible at changing lanes, but you get the job done. coming to rest in front of the humanities block, you’re arriving with the seminar starting just two minutes ago, and nanami looks at you like you just moved the moon and stars for him.

“thank you, (y/n)-san, truly,” he’s out of breath, maybe a little shaken up from the drive but it’s nothing he isn’t used to (gojo sucks too), “how can i repay you?”

you shake your hand, “a-ah, no it’s nothing. it was just an eight minute drive compressed into four.”

“no, really, let me pay back the favour.”

you bit your lip — you can’t possibly say the thing that’s on your mind. he would report you, you would have to be kicked out, your future crumbling before your eyes — you go for the tamer request.

“lunch, one day, then.”

nanami smiles at you and you feel like it’s cupid shooting his shot straight into your heart. you hardly see the man, smile, ever, so to have a genuine one directed at you made you squeeze your thighs together. there’s hope bubbling in nanami’s heart when he sees the effect of his smile: a glint in your eye and the quickened breaths, he may have thought your thighs move, too, but he didn’t have the balls to glance down to the one place he knew he wouldn’t be able to resist.

“how ’bout right after the seminar?” fuck. you’re grinning now and you see a little of nanami’s teeth in an amused smile.

“sure, nanami-san,” adrenaline sends you reeling, eyes boring so tirelessly into his that you wish he’d understand all the things you want him to do to you. he peeks a quick glimpse of your lips as they lick it before unbuckling his seatbelt, popping open the passenger door to head out. your hand instinctively goes up to stop him, “or should i say . . passenger princess.”

that prompts a full grin out of your TA, who lets out an attractive chuckle before leaving from your car, “sure, whatever you want to call me.”

you’re driving away happily, kicking your feet once you’re parked in another car park and giggling to yourself. unbeknownst to you of the small little thing nanami says after, “although i’d like it if you call me yours.”

the spiral starts from there. it was approximately two hours — you have two hours of going back to the dorms to choose something you knew you looked good in while continuing to text your friend in excitement. it was chaos between the hours of eleven to one pm, rummaging through your closet to find something suitable. you went through many rounds of outfits and with each photo to your friend you were losing hope.

“‘let’s just stick with the first’?” you scoff loudly after reading out her feedback, typing out a reply to your friend. it sounded a little agitated but you can’t help but heart the message wishing you a good luck.

before you know it, you’re hearing a knock on the window, greeted with the very nice sight of his suit jacket now removed and his blue shirt rolled up at the sleeves. it’s like he’s heard your thoughts too because even his ugly tie is bundled up in his hand.

“the AC wasn’t working.” he simply explains, once he’s in the car and he appreciates your gesture of turning yours to the max. you let your eyes rake over his figure, the pull of his shirt that looks too tight for him and the lines of his forearms, before he finally gets settled in and begs your eye contact.

“bummer,” you click your tongue, “but well, any places you have in mind?”

you start the car, pulling out of the lobby and nanami playfully hums, “not going to listen to your passenger princess’ struggles? do you hate women perhaps?”

“nah, i’m a toxic man who doesn’t care about his girl’s life.” that draws a laugh out of nanami, who sinks more into the seat. he’s more relaxed here than in class, than in lectures and it’s a nice sight to behold.

he echoes your sentiment with a small smile, “bummer.”

you both settle on an eatery pretty easily, with nanami keeping his promise of paying for your lunch (you made sure to pay back just a little with some bread, though, because how does a simple car lift equate to a whole lunch?). he was everything you thought him out to be: insanely insightful and smart; on a more physical level, jacked with such a pretty voice to the point you let him ramble about the seminar. it was the most animated you’ve seen him act.

since then, he’s become more open to accepting food items and hangouts with his students, although they never really hit like the first lunch he’s had with you. it was detrimental to his teaching, really, even now where he glares at your lab partner who you’re laughing with. it makes his stomach turn with jealousy, even as you exchange nudges while completing your worksheets.

he figures he can’t do anything but wait for you to initiate, mind muddled with thoughts of you and the possibility you were just being a nice person from what you did before, until you’re interrupting him from his rage-fuelled cleaning of the lab with a tap to his shoulder.

“nanami-san?” the students have filed out by now, a shell of what used to be a lab full of students groaning at the innards of the rats they were cutting open and the whispers of confusion at how to sew them back up.

“what is it?” he turns around too fast, almost knowing over a beaker by accident and when his hand goes over to catch it, you stabilise it as well. your hand encases his, the both of you resisting the urge to smile while you try to remember the question you so desperately tried to think of; anything to just talk to him.

“this is about um . . last week’s experiment about gas chromatography.”

“yeah?” nanami leans against the table, arms crossed and all and suddenly looking too buff that you feel a little lightheaded. his eyes skim over your body, a tight fitting shirt that accentuates your tits whilst you have some yoga pants on and if he bent you over, he’s confident he can see your pussy lips from behind the fabric. he knows it’s because you had a yoga class this morning, because he’s too invested in your life and you willingly give him what he wants.

“if the two mixtures contained the same alcohols but filled up to different amounts, do you know a method via the gas chromatogram to distinguish between the two mixtures?”

“uhm—”

nanami looks collected but he is sweating, approached at such a random time that he doesn’t have time to prepare except stutter through his answer. you don’t notice how you’ve been stepping closer and closer to him, either, until you’re an inch from one another.

“oh! alright, that makes sense.”

“anything else?” your TA looks down at you, hands just itching to bring you in. the lab is so quiet, now, save for the shuffling feet of the students outside but thankfully the windows are opaque. you could probably hear a pin drop if it wasn’t for your hearts pounding so loudly in your chests. your finger twitches with your incomplete lab report.

“right— well, yes, i was asking if you c—”

“babe!” the lab door slides open at the same time your friend calls out to you and you cough in embarrassment. nanami only clears his throat as the two of you step away and your cheeks burn, and he has to loosen the tie around his neck just for a bit.

“you told me to wait for you outside, right? well you were taking too long and . .” the other only continues his ‘task’ of cleaning up, looking anywhere but your direction as she continues to ramble, but he doesn’t miss the look of recognition on your friend’s face.

she mouths to you— i’m so sorry for interrupting, before she has half a mind to say something out loud and you’re clasping your hand over her mouth and ushering her outside hurriedly.

“shush— okay, thanks mr. nanami-san!”

he only waves a hand in farewell, but as soon as the door closes he collapses onto the seat. with head in hands, his mind wanders to the proximity in which the two of you were engaged in and the very, very uncomfortable boner in his pants. he’s so big that everyone can probably see it, frozen in place as he gets a sick idea.

“yeah, i told you to wait for me but not to barge in like that— oh my god! you should go on the records for having the worst timing ever.” you aren’t entirely disappointed, but it did seem like a good opportunity. you’re partly glad, too, because your mind now feeds you countless scenarios of nanami’s expressions turning into disgust and shock.

“dang, i’m sorry, but we do have to get going if we want to make it in time for that cafe event.”

your mouth twists, “yeah, i guess so.”

“if it makes you feel better, maybe he’ll want you more after this interruption.” she winks and you shove her playfully.

“now, you’re just trying to justify your bad timing!”

in that short time, you’re unaware that nanami has unzipped his pants and pulled out his hard-on through the hole of his boxers, insanely hard and body burning with regret. “lord, forgive me.”

he imagines you propped up on the (clean) lab tables, feet on his shoulders as he eats you out from below, or even hitting it from the back as he “helps” you with your lab report in the dorm, knowing damn well you won’t get anything done, or maybe even your mouth full of his throbbing cock sucking him off as he teaches.

nanami strokes his length in the empty lab room, knowing there wasn’t any classes any time soon from how often he’s looked at the timetables. there, he simply pumps himself under the table, biting at his shirt sleeves to muffle his grunts that he drools. it drops to the table, but he’s caring not one bit, because the feel of his hands just feel too good against him and the images of you only get lewder and lewder.

“s-shit . .” nanami swears quietly, hoping the slickness of his pre-cum doesn’t give him away, squeezing and moving his hands faster along his cock. his tip’s so sensitive — what would your mouth or pussy feel like? would you have let him rip your tights and fuck you silly just now? his hips are bucking into his hands, now, thinking of turning your sweet, sweet smile into something of pure sex, and before he knows it, he’s shooting his load onto the floor with a loud groan, thumbing his tip shakily. nanami’s breaths are ragged, guilt burning him alive while he washes his hand at the sink beside the tables and crouches to the floor, cleaning up after himself — nanami definitely wouldn’t be able to face you after this.

he was right. his mind was flooded with you in obscene positions and your saccharine voice twisted into moans and whines, he wonders if you taste as good as the pineapple juice he had the other day. even in tutorials, the students were wondering why the AC was turned up so high, because one glance from you made him hot and bothered. he liked to book it straight out of class, too, directing all questions to his email which he highlights very clearly in his slides, muttering something about being on a tight deadline with his thesis for his masters, but it’s never that serious — he’s usually heading back to quell the uncomfortable boner in his pants.

“prof? nanami-san?” you knew you’d find him in here in the professor’s office, probably going over lesson plans. your professor only shoots you a friendly greeting as nanami turns in his chair, he’s always happy to see his students while nanami swallows when you’re back in your yoga getup. it’s been a week, already?

“need anything, (y/n)?”

“oh, i need more of nanami-san, since it’s relating to my lab reports.” your professor usually conducted lab sessions, but nanami was the one to help with the reports, conveying the information of what to write and whatnot; well, it was also easier to talk someone who isn’t so intimidating and cool as your professor.

“kento, help me lock up after you’re done, alright?” your professor throws him the keys and you stifle a laugh at the way he stumbles out the door, “going home early to the wife, ahah . . guess i’m falling for her over again.”

that draws a laugh from both of you, bidding him goodbye with a smile on your faces before the mood turns tense again, and nanami looks up at you from his chair. you take him in: the manspread, the head tilt, the intentional (but you don’t know that) deep voice.

“yes, (y/n)?”

you gulp, remembering what your friend said — keep eye contact, slowly walk up to him, keep your voice nonchalant — it was easier said than done.

“cat got your tongue?”

you sputter and exclaim, “no— no i’m okay. i just wanted to ask about the alcohols used in the experiment last week.”

“ah, you’re still on that?”

his tone is laced with a slight disdain, possibly from how much he hates how you make him feel, coming in here to ask about your stupid lab report when he know you’re a bright student who hardly needs any help, coming in here like the two of you don’t want each other.

“y-yes, nanami-san.”

he stands and easily towers over you. from here, you can see his broad shoulders take up his shirt as he walks you back, buttons unbuttoned to reveal a bit of skin. you feel like prey being cornered, but nanami still has some sense of chivalry when he wraps an arm around your waist to prevent you from hitting the frosted glass door.

“mind telling me why your lab report from over two weeks ago is taking so long to be completed?”

reality seeps in for just a moment and his hand removes itself, hovering just over your body, “we still . . have a week to finish it up, nanami-san . .”

your TA takes a deep breath and you think that maybe that was the wrong answer, but all nanami does is step even closer to you and your hands have no choice but to rest on his toned chest. he can only hope no one can see your figure when you’re pressed flat against the frosted glass, but he knows this part of the uni is a little deserted this late in the afternoon.

“that’s not wrong . .” his voice is down to a whisper, closing his eyes for a moment when your hands travel over his chest. when he opens them again, they’re more than just the pretty, hazel ones you like to fantasise about, stained with a darker sort of lust that involves taking you, even if it meant doing it in the professor’s office. “but you’re always submitting it pretty early on, aren’t you? what changed, hm?”

you can feel his breath on your lips, wishing he would just take the first step because frankly, your pussy is throbbing and your body is already leaning into him even without his hand on your back. it feels natural like that.

“i got distracted.”

nanami’s breath moves from your lips to your neck, and you cheer in your head as he plants a gentle kiss there, but it’s not quite what you want. he hums into the crook of your neck, torturing you with wet kisses and sucking lightly.

“by what? your friend? or perhaps it’s some external commitment that’s taking up a lot of your time?” nanami already knows the answer but he enjoys the way you squirm. “what is it?”

by now, your hands are trailing up his body, wrapping around his neck and playing with his undercut. his skin is so soft and he smells so damn good, and he sighs at your hands.

“by someone, actually.” you bite the bullet, forcibly removing him from your neck which is definitely starting to show the obvious blue black on the skin there. his hands this whole time have been placed against the door behind you, but the carnal need is too prominent that he wraps that same arm around your middle. the other, on your nape; the sheer size of his hand makes you whine and nanami smiles at that.

“mind telling me who is it? maybe i could give them a good talk, tell them to stop tormenting my smart girl.”

that draws out a visceral reaction from you, melting into his arms at the simple praise. nanami helps you a little, leaning in with an expression as needy as yours.

“you’re gonna talk to yourself?” a laugh is the last thing you hear before he crashes his lips against yours, a hand smartly going to the door to flip the lock before he pulls you flush against him. you moan softly when you feel his hard-on, against your front, manhandled easy by nanami’s arms as he whips you around to walk you to your professor’s desk.

“do you think he’ll sue us?” nanami kisses down your neck with him between your legs, hands fondling every inch of your body while you grind up against his pelvis. with such thin material such as your yoga tights between you, it feels so damn good.

“at most he’ll remove me as TA . .” as he speaks, you can feel the vibrations along your skin, legs instinctively bringing him closer. he doesn’t let you, instead pulling away from your body and goes to his knees, seeing just how soaked you are. he thanks god you weren’t wearing black, because there’s a wet patch that leaks too much — it’s clear you didn’t bother to wear underwear at all. “but that is if he finds out about this, right?”

you smile, feet pushing at his back towards your dripping cunt and you moan softly when he licks at your pussy through the fabric.

“yeah— yeah i guess so,” you’re then expecting his hands to pull at your waistband and you lift your hips knowingly, but you hear a stark riiip! that echoes throughout the office and you gasp, too focused on his pretty face to notice he’s dug his fingers into the yoga tights to tear it at your centre. the action turns you on, entirely sure you felt your pussy flutter at the sheer strength that he had.

“i’ll buy you new ones, baby,” nanami presses a gentle kiss against your clit and you shiver at the contact, hot breath threatening your demise by his hand, “they’re of terrible quality, by the way.”

you huff, “yeah, you kinda ripped it, nanami-san. plus, what’s terrible — not in quality but in looks — is your tie.”

nanami chuckles, caressing your inner thighs with gentle fingers, blowing lightly on your cunt, “personal vendetta against cheetahs?”

that sends shivers along your whole body, “n-no, just don’t really like the look of it.”

nanami hums, “i’m wounded.”

“you’ll live.”

he only laughs again, “okay, enough talking. i’m starving.” and starving he was — he latches his mouth onto your clit like a vice, sucking and flicking his tongue relentlessly you have no choice but to cry out his name. “taste so fucking sweet,” the sudden swear catches you off-guard, paired with the rasped voice and your hips willingly hump his mouth, “pussy made for me.”

“don’t say shit like that . .” you whine, embarrassed at the filthiness of his words and yet you’re sat here on a desk, pushing your sex more and more into his lips. “it’s embarrassin’.”

nanami clicks his tongue, “you’re still here.”

“yeah, shut up.” you push him further into your cunt to silence him, a loud moan leaving your lips as nanami slobbers over you — you’re so wet, spilling onto the floor. without warning, nanami slips a finger into you, easing it in and the sheer thickness of it prompts more mewls from you.

“k—kento . .” you hear nanami groan at the first name basis, shoving his finger deeper into you. he pumps it as his tongue works overtime, the slickness of which your pussy sounds out echoing throughout the room. “i’m c-clos—”

that seems to fuel nanami further, memorising how your body feels under him. you clench repeatedly around his finger, thighs twitching against him while your whimpers increase in volume, just like your incoherent babbles.

“i’m g’nna— kento, i’m c—” your back arches when you gush all over his face, juices squirting and making a mess out of his hair. nanami groans into your sopping pussy, slurping up your arousal shamelessly as you continue to give him everything of you. you’re shaking around him, moans slowly dwindling due to shame. by now, you’ve soaked through the bottom of your tights, letting him rip the seams for a little more access.

“wanna hear you, baby.” he easily multitasks, turning you around while removing his underwear, looking back at him while you shimmy your ass back into him. with a low moan, nanami drags his tip over your folds, collecting your cum and pushing it in with it. the stretch makes your jaw drop and legs tremble, pussy still sensitive from the previous orgasm.

you hold on to the wooden desk to the best of your ability but your iron grip makes the wood creak a little; it isn’t long before nanami starts moving.

“f-fuck . . you’re so tight,” the lewdness of the situation, your ruined tights, your ass moving with the force of his hips has him gripping your hips harsher than intended. his cock is just so fat, hitting your spots effortlessly as he rams into you from behind, “will this be enough motivation for you to finish that lab report, hm?” your perked up ass is receiving all the abuse from his pelvis, rutted into with pure primal need as the slaps of his balls against you gets louder and louder, just like your moans.

“g-gonna need more than this, kento—!” you’re whining as he reaches around to rub at your clit, messy and fast, surely drawing marks down the once flawless wooden desk. he just hopes there’s no one who requires the professor’s assistance because there was a clear indication that the office was open with the shining ceiling light but he was in no condition to answer any questions without panting.

nanami pushes down your lower back, cockhead hitting your spots over and over, “need more? of course you do, fuckin’ slut.” it’s a total 180 from the gentle way he’s kissed you earlier — a choked whine and a clench of your pussy tells him you like it . “oh . . she’s cock drunk already, huh?”

“yesyesyes! mmff— kento, please . .” he pulls on your hair from behind, made easy by the ponytail you had it in and you moan at the mixture of pain and pleasure. he takes it a little easier, resting his large palm at your neck and pulling, together with your hair. nanami sucks at the same spot as earlier, and the overwhelming sensations has you both arching your back and fucking yourself back onto him.

“pretty arch you got here, darling,” he pants out, fucking so hard into you with his support that your hands don’t even need to rest on the table. nanami knows you’re already close by the way you’re unresponsive, mindless babbling leaving your mouth while you let him use your limp body. “is it all for m-me?”

“mhmh— it is, it is—” you’re fucked senseless, letting him turn your head to meet him in a sloppy kiss. by now your pussy juices are spurting all over the place, staining the floor and table, dripping down his balls where with every slam of his cock you can here the wet pap! pap! pap!’s of it.

“y—yeah i know it is; that’s all you are, aren‘t you? a little cocksleeve for me.” nanami groans out, letting go entirely before wrapping his arms around you and trapping you between his front and the table. he’s flush against your back, thrusts faltering with each plunge into your warm, tight pussy as he feels you clench tirelessly and you don’t even to say it before you’re jolting in his hold.

“cumming, i’m cumming . . fuuuck . .” your body is so sensitive, shaking around his cock that continues to move into you. you cum all over him, listening to the dirty whispers he’s dumping into your ears.

“oh . .” nanami groans, “that’s a good little slut, s-shit—” your hips continue to move even though your brain tells you to stop, hands making terrible effort at reaching for him.

“wan’ you to cum in me, kentoo—” your grip on his forearm is tight, pleading with your doe eyes and small voice that has nanami grunting out in a dilemma, but your pussy’s too warm that he cums suddenly. his voice reaches a higher register, stuttering pelvis rutting into you with the intent of breeding you; he pumps you full of his seed, ropes upon ropes of white filling your womb. it’s so thick that you shiver again, yelping softly when he pulls out.

“look at that . .” nanami marvels at the amount of cum he’s dumped into you, using a finger to scoop it up before pushing it back in that you jump from the coldness of his finger. “a smart girl turned so dumb just from cock.” you give him an intoxicated smile, lazy and hooded as you lay limp on the table.

“only for your cock, nanami-san . .” you lick a stripe up the palm of your hand and he indulges you by stepping closer. he moans softly as your hand makes contact with his shaft, “or should i say . . sir?”

nanami ended up driving you back to your dorm, helping you to your room from how sore you were after that.

[idontmindifuforgetme]

Do you have any poetry recommendations? The poem poll made me realize that I like. ONLY know Iraqi poets. Like the only non-Iraqi poet I can name off the top of my head is Robert Frost

i'm literally hooked on poetry. even on days where i can't sit down to read a book, i try to consume at least one poem a day bc it keeps me sane. it actually does. i recommend signing up to one poem a day newsletters--those have been a game changer for me. as for recommendations, my favorite poems change every week, but current faves (whose authors i regularly go back to/are a good starting point) would be:

elegy for my sadness - chen chen (Who invented the word / “ennui”? A sad Frenchman? / A centipede? They should’ve never / been born. They should’ve seen me / in Paris, a sad teenage / exchange student. I was so sad / & so teenaged, one day my host sister / gripped my hand hard & even harder / said, SOIS HEUREUX. / BE HAPPY. & miraculously, / I wasn’t sad anymore. / All I felt was the desire to slap my host sister. / See, I was angry in Paris, which is clearly / not allowed. One can be sad in Paris (I was) / & one can be in love in Paris (I was not), / but angry? Angry in Paris?")

a pity, we were such a good invention - yehuda amichal ( "A pity / We were such a good / And loving invention / An aeroplane made from a man and wife / Wings and everything / We hovered a little above the earth")

like a small cafe, that's love - mahmoud darwish ("I say to myself at last / Perhaps she who I was waiting for / was waiting for me, or was waiting for some other man / or was waiting for us, and did not find him/me.")

bible study - tony hoagland ("Who knows, this might be the last good night of summer / My broken nose is forming an idea of what’s for supper / Hard to believe that death is just around the corner / What kind of idiot would think he even had a destiny?")

mother and child - louise gluck ("Why do I suffer? Why am I ignorant? / Cells in a great darkness. Some machine made us; / it is your turn to address it, to go back asking / what am I for? What am I for?")

america, america - saadi youssef ("We are not hostages, America, / and your soldiers are not God's soldiers... / We are the poor ones, ours is the earth of the drowned gods, / the gods of bulls, / the gods of fires, / the gods of sorrows that intertwine clay and blood in a song... / We are the poor, ours is the god of the poor, / who emerges out of farmers' ribs, / hungry / and bright, / and raises heads up high...")

the duino elegies (seventh elegy respectively) - rainer maria rilke ("Not only the devotion of these unfolded forces, / not only the paths, not only the evening fields, / not only, after a late storm, the breathing freshness, / not only approaching sleep and a premonition, evenings... / also the nights! Also the high summer nights / also the stars, the stars of this Earth! / O to be dead at last and know them eternally, / all the stars: for how, how, how to forget them!")

the endlessness - ada limon ("How was i supposed to feel then? About moving in the world? How could I touch anything or anyone without the weight of all of time shifting through us?")

psalm - adonis ("Open my memory and study my face beneath its words, learn my alphabet. When you see foam weaving my flesh and stone flowing in my blood, you will see me. I am closed like a tree trunk, present and ungraspable like air. Thus I cannot surrender to you.")

the war works hard - dunya mikhail ("The war continues working, / day and night. / It inspires tyrants / to deliver long speeches / awards medals to generals / and themes to poets / it contributes/ to the industry / of artificial limbs / provides food for flies / adds pages to the history books / achieves equality / between killer and killed / teaches lovers to write letters / accustoms young women to waiting / fills the newspapers / with articles and pictures / builds new houses / for the orphans / invigorates the coffin makers / gives grave diggers / a pat on the back / and paints a smile on the leader's face.")

[bijouxcarys]

𝑻𝒊𝒆𝒔 𝑻𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝑩𝒊𝒏𝒅 (𝑹𝒐𝒎𝒂𝒏 𝑹𝒆𝒊𝒈𝒏𝒔 𝒙 𝑶𝑪) - 𝑪𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝑻𝒉𝒓𝒆𝒆

Masterlist

Character Profiles/Face Claims

Playlist

A/N: Thank you for all the love! Hope you guys enjoy this one. I do really enjoy getting replies and reblogs to see what people think. So if you can, I'd really appreciate it. I love seeing people's reactions, it makes my day!

Tags: @trippinsorrows @empressdede @thetribalqueen @heauxvibez @bigsimperika

@cyberdejos2 @keyaho @headoftheetable @jstarr86 @southerngirl41

@tshepisho @cry1nwhileimcumm1n @maeb99 @thedesireds @dzdndcnfsd

@expert-texpert @niknakbucks92 @sillyteecup

(let me know if you want to be tagged in future Roman fics)

The black SUV hummed down the deserted highway, the city lights fading into the rearview mirror as they approached the outskirts. Roman sat in the front passenger seat, eyes scanning the road ahead with a practiced vigilance. The Usos flanked Solo in the back, while Paul gripped the wheel with a steady hand, driving with an air of calm professionalism.

The atmosphere inside the car was deceptively relaxed. Jimmy had his feet propped up on the back of Roman’s seat, bobbing his head to the music playing from the car’s speakers. “Man, this playlist is fire,” he said, grinning. “You got good taste, Uce.”

Roman chuckled, glancing back at him. “Gotta keep it fresh, keep the vibes right. Especially before we handle business.”

Jey leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. “Ain’t nothin’ like a little old-school hip-hop to get us in the zone, right?”

“Exactly,” Roman agreed, turning the volume up a notch. The bass thumped through the speakers, filling the car with a rhythm that was both energising and soothing.

Behind them, another black SUV followed closely, carrying more of their men… including Sami.

Jey noticed the vehicle in the side mirror and frowned, his brow furrowing. “Yo, why’s Sami coming along for the drop?”

Roman sighed, his eyes still firmly on the road. “Sami’s earned his spot. He’s proven himself. We need all hands on deck for this one.”

“Yeah, but you trust him with something this big?” Jey’s scepticism was clear, his tone laced with doubt.

“Sami’s good,” Solo interjected, his voice calm but firm. “He’s loyal. And we need him.”

Jimmy shrugged, leaning back in his seat. “Gotta give the guy a chance, Jey. He’s been solid so far.”

Jey muttered something under his breath, clearly still unconvinced, but he let it go. They all knew how important this drop was. It wasn’t just another routine job; it was a pivotal moment for their operations.

The SUV turned onto a narrow, dimly lit road, leading them further away from civilisation and deeper into the industrial wasteland that surrounded the city. Abandoned warehouses and derelict factories loomed in the darkness, their broken windows and crumbling facades casting eerie shadows.

Paul glanced at Roman. “We’re almost there. You ready?”

Roman nodded, hardening his expression. “Always.”

They pulled up to the warehouse, its hulking structure partially obscured by the encroaching darkness. The second SUV rolled to a stop behind them, and their men disembarked, forming a tight, disciplined group. Sami stepped forward, his eyes scanning the surroundings cautiously.

Roman exited the vehicle first, followed by the rest of the crew. The cold night air bit at their skin, but they paid it no mind. This was their territory, their domain. They moved with a confidence born of countless successful operations, their presence imposing and unmistakable.

The warehouse loomed ahead, its large metal doors slightly ajar. A faint light flickered from within, casting long, wavering shadows on the ground. Roman took point, leading the way inside. The interior was vast and cavernous, the air thick with the scent of rust and decay. Stacks of old crates and machinery were scattered haphazardly, creating a maze of obstacles.

“Stay sharp,” Roman muttered lowly.

Inside, the echoes of their footsteps bounced off the walls, adding to the ominous atmosphere. Roman’s crew fanned out, each member taking up a strategic position. Jimmy and Jey moved with precise synchronicity, scanning every shadow, every dark corner.

Roman glanced at his watch. “We got a few minutes. Everyone stays put until the agreed time. No surprises.”

They all nodded, understanding the importance of timing. Any premature movement could tip the balance of power, and in their world, timing was everything. They settled in, the silence heavy.

Jimmy leaned against the SUV, trying to lighten the mood. “So, what’s the plan after this, Uce? A little celebration?”

Roman smirked. “Let’s get through tonight first. Then we can talk about celebrations.”

Jey nudged Sami, who was standing a bit apart from the group. “You good, man? You seem tense.”

Sami gave a small, tight mile. “Just focused, Jey. I know how important this is.”

“Damn right it is,” Solo adde, his voice a deep rumble. “We all gotta be on point.”

The minutes ticked by slowly, each one dragging under the weight of their collective anticipation. Roman’s eyes never stopping moving, scanning the perimeter, checking his men, ensuring everything was as it should be. He had been in too many situations where a single oversight led to disaster, and he wasn’t about to let that happen tonight.

Paul, still behind the wheel, kept the engine running, ready for a quick exit if needed. He glanced at Roman through the rearview mirror, giving a subtle nod. Roman returned the gesture, acknowledging the silent communication that had become a second nature to them.

Roman checked his watch, the green glow of the numbers cutting through the dim light of the warehouse. 10:30pm on the dot. He signalled to his men to sharpen up. This was it. The culmination of weeks of planning and negotiations. He squared his shoulders and moved toward the centre of the cavernous space.

The first to appear were the Volkovs. They emerged from the shadows like phantoms, their presence immediately commanding attention.

Roman watched them approach, his eyes narrowing as he took in the unfamiliar face at the front. Tall and broad-shouldered. A stern expression. Followed closely by a slightly shorter, but no less intimidating man that bared a slight resemblance to the man he followed. Further back, a team of their men lingered, each one handpicked for their strength and agility.

 This wasn’t who Roman was expecting. He had dealt with Dimitri Volkov before and knew his style, his mannerisms. This switch-up didn’t sit well with him.

From the opposite side of the warehouse, Damien and his crew made their entrance. He walked with the familiar confidence that bordered on arrogance, his eyes scanning the room with a somewhat predatory gleam. Finn and Dominik flanked him, their expressions unreadable. Behind them, backup muscle loomed in the shadows, ready to intervene if things went south.

The Samoan stepped forward, his presence dominating the space. Jimmy and Jey were at his sides, with Solo a few steps behind, each one ready for anything and everything. Paul, by this point, had stepped out and kept close to the SUV, a watchful eye on the scene.

Damien broke the silence first, with his authoritative voice. “Evening, gentlemen. We’ve got quite a shipment for you tonight. Heavy-duty weaponry, top of the line. You’ll find–”

Roman raised a hand, cutting him off. “Hold up. Who the hell is this?” He gestured to the Volkovs, demanding an answer.

The ragged-looking man from the front of the Russian entourage stepped forward, his expression unflinching. “I’m Sergei Volkov. Dimitri’s younger brother. I’m handling the pickup tonight.”

Roman’s eyes flicked to Damien, then back to Sergei. “Dimitri didn’t mention you.”

Sergei’s jaw tightened slightly. “It’s a high-risk score. Mitya thought it best to send someone who… how you say, wouldn’t draw as much attention.” He spoke with the thickest accent Roman had ever heard, and used too many hand gestures as he struggled to find the correct English phrasing.

Roman studied him for a moment, weighing his words. He didn’t like surprises, especially not in deals of this magnitude. But he also understood the necessity of caution. After a tense moment, he nodded. “Fine. But next time, I expect a heads up.”

Sergei gave a curt nod. “Understood.”

Damien resumed his pitch, undeterred by the interruption. “As I was saying, we’ve got the best hardware you can find. Assault rifles, sniper rifles, RPGs. All clean, no serial numbers, ready for immediate use. We’ll split the shipment evenly between the both of you.”

Even though his focus was still on Sergei, Roman nodded. “So you’re Dimitri’s little brother, huh? How do I know you’re up to handling this?”

The Russian met his gaze evenly. “I may be younger, but I’ve been in this game a long time. I wouldn’t be here if Mitya didn’t trust me.”

Another beat. More silence. Then, Roman finally looked away. “Alright, let’s get this done.”

Damien signalled to his men, who began unloading crates from a hidden compartment in the floor. The sound of wood scraping against concrete filled the air as the heavy crates were moved into position.

Roman’s crew moved in to inspect the merchandise. Jimmy and Jey pried open one of the crates, revealing rows of meticulously packed rifles. Solo checked another, nodding in approval at the contents.

The Volkovs did the same, their eyes scanning the weapons with practiced efficiency. The smaller man that lingered behind Sergei spoke quietly to one of his lieutenants, giving instructions and ensuring everything was accounted for.

Damien approached Roman, a slight smirk on his lips. “Satisfied, jefe?”

Roman glanced over the crates, then nodded. “Looks good. You guys always come through.”

The Puerto Rican chuckled. “We aim to ple–”

Cutting him off entirely, a sudden noise echoed through the environment. Everyone froze, hands instinctively reaching for their weapons. Roman’s eyes darted to the source of the sound, his body tensing.

From the shadows, a figure emerged. It was a young man, barely out of his teens, looking dishevelled and scared. He held up his hands, trying to show he meant no harm. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to–”

Before he could finish, Damien’s men had him on the ground, their guns trained on him. Roman stepped forward, his expression dark and menacing. “Who the hell are you?”

The kid stammered, his eyes wide with fear. “I-I was just looking for a place to sleep. I didn’t know anyone was here.”

Roman glanced at Damien, who shrugged, clearly unconcerned. “He’s not one of ours.” The Tribal Chief turned back to the kid, his gaze icy.

“You picked the wrong night to wander in here, kid.”

“Please, I won’t say anything, I swear!” the kid pleaded, his voice trembling.

Roman’s eyes narrowed, assessing the situation. He knew they couldn’t afford any loose ends, but he also didn’t want to spill unnecessary blood. He turned to Sami, who had been watching silently.

“Take care of it,” Roman ordered, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Sami nodded, stepping forward and pulling the kid to his feet. “Come on, let’s get you out of here.”

The kid looked relieved, but the fear was still evident in his eyes. He stumbled as Sami led him towards the exit, casting one last terrified glance at the gathered men.

As they disappeared, Roman turned back to Damien. “Let’s wrap this up.”

“Si, si,” Damien nodded, slightly distracted by the incident. “About the payment…”

Roman reached into his jacket and pulled out a thick envelope, handing it over to Damien. “As agreed. Half now, half upon delivery.”

Damien took the envelope, flipping through the bills inside before tucking it away. “Pleasure doing business with you.” He gave a final nod to each group, ready to signal the end of this transfer and get out of there. But before he could move, a loud, piercing gunshot echoed through the warehouse.

Damien’s body jerked violently, then crumpled to the ground. Blood pooled beneath his head, the bullet hole between his eyes a brutal punctuation mark. For a split second, silence reigned.

Then chaos erupted.

“Damien!” Finn’s voice cracked as he rushed to his fallen comrade, panic etched on his face. Dominik and the rest of TJD moved in a frenzy, trying to process what had just happened.

Roman’s instincts kicked in. He retreated behind a stack of crates, pulling out his handgun and scanning the area for the shooter. He couldn’t see the source, but he knew they had to act fast. “What the fuck is goin’ on, Volkov?!” he shouted.

Sergei mirrored Roman’s movements, his own gun drawn, aiming directly at the Tribal Chief. “I could ask you the same thing!” he yelled back, his eyes wild with uncertainty and anger.

Before they knew it, both the Volkovs and The Bloodline squared off, weapons drawn, while Finn, Dominik, and the rest of The Judgement Day scrambled to Damien’s body. Panic spread through their ranks as they tried to lift him, blood smearing their hands.

“I won’t ask you again,” Roman bellowed, cocking his gun with intent. “What kinda shit did you pull?!”

“Radi chrena, Reigns, I don’t fucking know!”

“He’s gone,” Finn whispered shakily. “Damien’s fucking dead.”

Roman and Sergei paid no mind to the drama unfolding at their side. They were deadlocked on each other, index fingers itching to press down on their triggers. 

“Don’t fuckin’ think I won’t put a bullet straight through that pretty head of yours, bastardo,” Roman growled, narrowing his brows at Sergei.

“Go right ahead, Reigns, pull the fucking trigger!”

“JD, don’t!”

Another member of The Judgement Day had spun around, both hands equipped with guns as he pointed them in the direction of Sergei and Roman.

“Who set this up?” he screamed, his Irish twang breaking hysterically. “Which one of you fuckers did this?!”

“JD, get your arse back over here!” Finn shouted.

“No! Not until one of these cunts own up!”

“Yer gonna get yourself kil–”

It was too late. JD had squeezed the triggers without uttering another word.

The shots went wide, but they were enough to ignite the powder keg. Gunfire erupted, bullets ricocheting off the concrete walls, splintering crates, and shattering the fragile alliance between the three factions. Shouts filled the air, a cacophony of rage, fear… betrayal.

Roman stayed low, his mind racing. This wasn’t just a botched deal—it was a deliberate fucking hit. His eyes locked onto Sergei as he fired back at The Judgement Day’s men, knowing they couldn’t just stand here and get picked off one by one.

“Jimmy! Jey! Cover me!” Roman barked. His cousins immediately shifted their positions, laying down suppressing fire. Roman made a break for their designated crates. No way was this shit getting in the way of a valuable shipment. He reached the crates, heart pounding in his chest.

Empty.

Both cases were void of content.

No… No, no, no… 

“Motherfucker!” he roared, slamming his fist against the side of one of the crates. He frantically looked around, searching for any sign of the missing weapons, but the environment was growing increasingly more dangerous. They couldn’t stay there for much longer. Not without a severe casualty, and in turn the risk of losing sight on who the fuck set them up.

“Fall back!” he shouted over the din of gunfire. “Get to the SUVs, now!”

The Bloodline moved quickly, covering each other’s backs as they retreated. Roman’s face was a mask of fury. Eyes burning with a dark intensity. They piled into their SUV, Paul gunning the engine as they sped away from the warehouse, the second car in tow.

“Ayo, is Sami good?!” Jimmy breathed. “Did he come back?”

“Yeah, man, he came back—there’s more important shit to be worryin’ about right now,” Jey scrutinised, chest heaving.

They looked toward Roman, who sat in the passenger seat with a clenched jaw and rage-smoldering eyes.

“It was them,” Roman spat venomously. “The fuckin’ Russian bastards set us up.” Catching everyone off-guard, he slammed his fist down into the dashboard, nostrils flared as he tried to catch his breath.

“We don’t know that for sure, Uce, it coulda been anyone!” Jey panted, all whilst checking behind them to make sure the second SUV was still there, and that nobody else had tagged along.

“Don’t be fucking naive,” Roman spat before spinning to look at him. “You think you can do this better than me, is that the problem here?”

Jimmy shot a warning glance to Jey, and one of concern over at Solo.

“Huh?!” Roman prodded, progressively irritated by the Uso’s lack of response.

“Shit, that ain’t what I’m sayi–”

“It sounds a whole lot like that’s what you’re sayin’.”

“It’s not! I’m just sayin’ we shouldn’t be jumpin’ to no conclusions!”

“And who the fuck put you in charge?!”

Jey sat there, stunned at the outburst, and eventually just threw his hands up in defeat. “Forget it, man.”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” Roman narrowed his eyes at his cousin one last time, before slowly turning back around. “Who else has the motive and the golden fuckin’ opportunity to pull this shit?”

“I–”

“Nobody!” Roman interrupted, not caring who the hell was speaking up. “They the only ones who would dare! They at the top of the food chain, they have all the resources, they have all the power!”

It was obvious that he wasn’t addressing anyone in particular. He was just… saying shit to say shit. And everyone let him get on with it, a normality for The Bloodline by this point. Better to keep your mouth shut and let Roman speak when he had something to say.

The SUV roared through the city streets, the occupants now tense and silent. Roman was a mess, a mindful storm of anger and calculation. First Maria, now this? The Volkovs had made a grave mistake, and he was going to make sure they paid for it.

“Wise Man,” he spoke again once the impulsive rage had dulled down a bit.

“Y-yes, my Tribal Chief?” Paul stuttered, his hands shaky on the wheel.

“When we get back, fill Tamina in,” he instructed with an eerie calmness, before looking at his special counsel. “We’re gonna need every man we can get.” This was more than a deal gone wrong. It was a declaration of war.

And Roman Reigns was a man who knew how to win a war.

[calqlate]

RE: LOVE & LIFE | ONE

— SOMEONE WHO CARES

SERIES MASTERLIST | PREVIOUS CHAPTER | NEXT CHAPTER

PAIRING(S): zhongli x f! reader + diluc x f! wife! reader

SUMMARY: As the wife of the famous big shot in the wine industry, you have everything you could ever ask for — a beautiful mansion, endless wealth, servants at your beck and call... However, you lack the one thing you yearn for: love. With your beloved husband neglecting you and being stuck in a loveless marriage, you decide to end it all, only to be stopped by a man whom you have never met before, and who also coincidentally happens to be your soulmate. In addition, there just might seem to be more than what meets the eye in regards to your peculiar soulmate, and you just might have to find that out for yourself.

TAGLIST: @crescentmoonnn + @deeomi + @esthelily + @mshope16 + @nerdiel-has-no-braincells

A/N: sorry for the wait, i've been struggling with the biggest writer's block as of february :") here's the long-awaited chapter, please enjoy ^^

As you walked off the plane and step foot onto the arrival hall of Liyue's airport, you combed some stray locks of hair falling into your face. Sitting through a five-hour flight while sending emails and settling a whole load of paperwork (which had been uploaded onto an online folder courtesy of your secretary Giselle) had you red-eyed and ready to take a good three-hour nap. You were presently on a business trip to meet a partner who was keen on investing in your company to expand and establish a branch of its own in Liyue. The said partner in question was Fatui Network, a trading company renowned for having a seemingly shrewd CEO who had the 'magic touch': any business she was interested in and chose to invest in seemed to turn out successful, and you were hoping for good things when she reached out to contact you when you chose to expand your business.

You were scanning the crowd for the person who was arranged to pick you up when you spotted a gingerhead in the crowd waving eagerly at you. You raised an eyebrow up at him and he gave wide, exaggerated nods as if to say "Yes, it's me!".

You dragged your luggage over to him and gave him a quick once-over. The man was fair-skinned with blue eyes that seemed to have seen many things in life despite his young exterior. He wore a bright smile which exuberated a youthful and bright energy. You greeted him with a smile and extended a hand for a handshake, "Nice to meet you. I'm [F/N] Ragnvindr, CEO of Aster Cosmetics. You must be the representative from the Fatui Network, right?"

The gingerhead grinned and shook your hand back, "I'm actually one of the directors there. The name's Ajax Tartaglia, nice to meet you."

You raised your brows and drew your hand back along with him, "I didn't think your CEO would send a director to meet me."

"Oh, we must," Ajax said, "You're a valuable business partner of ours. It's only right for one of the higher-ups to pick you up and show you around."

"That's kind of you, please deliver my sincerest thanks to your CEO," you smiled.

"That, I will," Ajax smiled, "Now, shall I show you to your hotel?"

Ajax proved himself fun to be around: he was a great conversationalist and naturally made you feel at ease. He made you feel as if both of you were friends for a long time even though you had just met less than an hour ago. He was different from the usual directors that you met on business talks and trips, and he was like the breath of fresh air you never knew you needed.

"Speaking of, Mr. Tartaglia, isn't the Fatui Network based in Snezhnaya?" you asked as the taxi the both of you were riding up pulled up to the hotel.

"We are, but I flew down a few days ago to check in on our Liyue branch," Ajax explained.

Both of you stepped out of the taxi and he rounded to the back to retrieve your luggage.

"You are the hands-on type, I see," you said with a teasing smile.

"It's good to see to things personally," Ajax smiled, rolling your luggage beside him as the both of you stepped into the hotel.

The lobby was grand and sparkling, with a huge glittering chandelier hanging from the ceiling as a centerpiece. There were sofas placed round small tables, with a vase of flowers on top of each table. The floor was covered in dark marble and it was so smooth and shiny that one could see their own reflection against it.

As Ajax went up to the service counter to get your room booking, you pulled out your phone to check your text messages. Just a few from Jean and Kaeya, but none from the person you were hoping to hear from. A slight pang of disappointment filled the pit of your stomach as you sighed through your nose. You were delusional for actually hoping for a response from him, were you not?

"Mrs. Ragnvindr, are you ready to go?"

You snapped your head up to see Ajax waving your key card idly inbetween his fingers and you shot him an apologetic smile.

"Apologies, I'm coming," you slipped your phone back into your purse and took quick steps to catch up to Ajax, pushing the thoughts of him into the back of your mind.

Despite the small little blemish that was the disappointment you felt earlier in the day, Ajax seemed to wash it all away by distracting you with the itinerary he had planned for the day. He had chosen good restaurants and cafés to have lunch and dinner and went through your proposals during the short coffee breaks.

All the distractions wore off once you were back into the confines of your hotel suite. The room was booked based on your husband's terms, which were pretty adamant demands according to Ajax.

What use is giving me a luxurious room when I've got no one to share it with? You sighed as you peeled your heels off and clambered onto the sofa which was designed for aesthetics first and comfort second. The armrest dug into your side uncomfortably and you adjusted yourself to make yourself feel more comfortable. You dug into your purse again to retrieve your phone.

There were still no texts from him.

You decided to give your husband a call via Facetime. After all, there was only a one-hour difference and it was only 11pm in Mondstadt then. Your husband was still awake and you knew that he would only sleep in the wee hours of the morning.

You placed your phone standing upright on the table, leaning your phone against the ceramic vase for support. You sat up straight eagerly, waiting for your husband to pick up.

"Hello?"

Your eyes brightened as you watched the screen shift in perspective. Diluc's hand was covering the screen partially as he moved his phone, the screen coming to a standstill as he placed his phone on a solid surface. Diluc's hair was slightly disheveled and ran down the sides of his face. Upon closer inspection, you realised that he had rather deep set eyebags beneath his eyes, and his skin looked paler than usual, making him seem ghostly.

"Diluc," you started, "Are you alright?"

"I'm doing fine," he was curt in his response, choosing not to look at you. You could hear the sounds of a typing keyboard in the background, so you knew he was still working while on the line with you. His eyes never left his laptop as he asked, "What about you? Is the room comfortable enough for you?"

"The suite is great, thank you," you muttered.

There was a moment of silence as neither one of you said anything. The only sound being heard was the clacking of his keyboard and the occasional clicks of his mouse.

"Is that all?" Diluc asked, "If so, you should hang up and go to bed."

"You should go to bed too," you whispered, "It's already so late and you're still working."

"You don't need to worry about me. I'm fine."

"The eyebags under your eyes say otherwise," you countered.

"They are none of your concern," he said, his voice solid and holding his ground. There was another beat of silence before he said, "That's all for tonight. Goodnight."

With that, the call went dead and your screen went black. The calls with Diluc were always like this, and you really should not be surprised or even had expected something more. He was merely your husband in name, and his feelings were not yours to bend at your will.

A few involuntary tears escaped your eyes and you wiped them away quickly. What use was it to be the wife of a rich man when this marriage was loveless and cold? It went against all expectations you had of marriage: you had wanted to be married to a man who would shower you in endless love, be it a wealthy man or a homeless one. As long as you were loved, you would be okay.

However, you were not loved in the slightest, and you were not alright by any means.

You walked right towards the door and slipped your heels back on again. You needed some fresh air, so off to the rooftop you went.

The hotel had a swimming pool on the top floor which oversaw the entire city. At present, the neon city lights glittered against the still waters, which were glowing in a seemingly neon blue colour, thanks to the lights installed on the pool's tiles. You walked right to the edge of the pool which was close to the glass panels separating the pool from the sky. You closed your eyes, feeling the cool night breeze against your face.

After your grandfather passed away, your parents learnt of your grandfather's will to have you marry the eldest Ragnvindr son, and they were more than happy to pretty much sell you off to the said famous family. You remembered that they did not even bat an eye when they did so, saying it was all for strengthening the family's ties with the social circle of the wealthy, but you could care less. It seemed that in this world, no one was truly on your side.

You kicked your heels off and climbed onto the seats a little far off the pool, their backs facing the glass panels. You closed your eyes and held your hands up, walking in a single line as if you were walking on a tightrope.

I wonder, if I fell off here, would there be anyone who will care?

Suddenly, you tripped on an uneven cushion and swerved to your side, the side that was close to the glass panels. Your eyes flew open as you let out a silent scream, watching your life flash before your very eyes as you fell into impending doom.

By fate or some sort of miracle, someone grabbed your other hand and yanked you away from the edge, pulling you straight into something solid. Your eyes screwed themselves shut as you careened into something… or someone. You opened your eyes to see that you have found yourself in the arms of a dark-haired man, whose eyes were brimming with tears as he whispered the string of words you were not expecting to hear from a complete stranger.

"Please stay alive for me."

[renasdoodles]

Green (Short Story Excerpt)

The end of the world happened slowly; as most things do. The plants began to disappear—one by one becoming extinct—too gradually for the general public to take seriously. When they did notice, humanity shrugged it off as the natural cycle of things.

And then it was the animals. That was harder to ignore.

It was the pollinators first, of course. Without their help, much of the flora could not proliferate as they once had. The lack of sunlight, of fertile soil, of bees or butterflies or hummingbirds were the beginnings of the end. Grassy meadows became barren deserts and lush forests became wasteland littered with twigs and branches—the corpses of once-mighty trees. Green became a lost color.

There weren’t many humans left when Zoe found hope and began her journey. The last human interaction she had was years ago to a man dying of smoke sickness; a common story for the few still alive. The ever-smoking towers brought industry, jobs, prosperity for a while…before they brought illness and death.

Over time, the smog and ash the towers spewed blocked out the sun, displaced the air, and changed the color of the world. Those who inhaled too much of the toxic fumes died slow deaths. Many grew up breathing it, assured by charismatic politicians that it was not harmful. They didn’t want to see past the lies; humans were an optimistic species after all.

Zoe walked past one of the many ever-smoking towers—still spewing death into the air—and took a moment to gaze at the darkened sky. She wondered what the sun might have looked like; what it still might look like hiding behind that veil of black and gray. There were stories, of course, but she liked to imagine that the sun was green.

With one hand, she adjusted the breather that sat over her nose and mouth, clutching a small egg-shaped container in the other before continuing her stroll, stopping at at a flickering metal box that matched her in height. An oxygen vending machine.

She had stopped by every O vendor she had come across in her years-long journey. Air was something she could not afford to let run low. Her expedition was a long one and she didn’t even have a notion of when it would end. It was better to refill her breather as often as possible before there would be nothing left; when soon—she assumed—there would be a large stretch where there would be no more O vendors to provide breathable air. She didn’t know when or where, but she knew it was inevitable. There were only so many O vendors that could have been put up before the smoke sickness claimed too many lives to justify the expense and many were already running low on supply.

She inserted a plastic card into the machine and fresh air was pumped into her mask. She breathed it in appreciatively, taking in the slight chemical smell of the original container and wondered what air from plants smelled like as she crossed empty streets and passed more ever-smoking towers.

Her destination was far but she was almost there; or so she hoped. Just a little farther, she kept telling herself, repeating it every so often. Her personal mantra.

She held the little container close to her, afraid that she might lose it; that it might slip and tumble down somewhere she could never hope to reach; that it might wither before she got to the one place in the world the sun was said to touch. The Sunpatch she had been seeking since she had found the egg-shaped thing—her hope—that she carried with her.

She had walked for so long with no direction save for the little information she had managed to gather after so much research on the Sunpatch. Much of it were rumors that lead to dead ends, others were educated guesses when information was obviously incomplete. She hoped to the hidden sun that the one she followed now wasn’t another dead end. It was her last lead and she was so old and so tired.

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

You can read the rest on my site: HERE

[agentnico]

Late Night with the Devil (2024) review

Nothing beats retro 70’s demonic haunting. It was a simpler time…

Plot: Johnny Carson rival Jack Delroy hosts a syndicated talk show ‘Night Owls’ that has long been a trusted companion to insomniacs around the country. However, ratings for the show have plummeted since the tragic death of Jack's beloved wife. Desperate to turn his fortunes around, on October 31st, 1977, Jack plans a Halloween special like no other- unaware he is about to unleash evil into the living rooms of America.

Ladies and gentlemen, please do not adjust your television sets, for there is a new found-footage horror film in town from the indy circuit, and it might just breath the right amount of fresh air into an oversaturated genre. Personally I’ve never been a major fan of found-footage. I hear folks raving about the original Blair Witch Project yet all I watched was a bunch of guys running around the woods screaming endlessly for no reason. Additionally the shaky-cam element can be so dizzying and sickly that I truly end up questioning the entertainment value of it all. There are exceptions to the rule of course. 2008’s science fiction invasion popcorn flick Cloverfield was tons of fun, as it provided a genuine experience of what it would be like if you were thrown right into the middle of monster attack in the millennial age. There are also some genuine scares and the found footage format worked really well with the film’s themes. I too enjoyed the 2020 black comedy Spree, where Joe Keery’s driver goes on a murder spree whilst constantly filming himself in hopes of becoming a viral sensation. It may not be a five-star ride, but it earns its tip for being a well crafted and inspired effort. To be fair, The Visit from M. Night Shyamalamadingdong was enjoyable piece of horror involving creepy grandparents. Okay, maybe I do enjoy found-footage flicks, but as long as they are decently made and that format style supports the narrative in a cohesive and advantageous way.

With Late Night with the Devil, ideologies of faith and the paranormal are challenged through the lens of the late-night TV format. Think how the 1976 Network analysed the corruption of the television industry, and how the camera can influence the politics and beliefs of those watching, Late Night with the Devil does the same but with the supernatural. Presented as a rediscovered master tape of a notorious Halloween late night special, it feels like we’re watching an actual talk show in real time, and the 70’s inspiration is in full display here from the grainy monitor display to the costumers to the special effects. It truly feels like we’re looking into a time capsule of the past, and that this all really happened. Again, found-footage as a filmmaking style works when it serves the purpose of the narrative, which in this case it does. It is a shame then that the movie in its finale loses the found-footage element and instead opts for the shock value by showcasing a dream-like vision of one of the characters. Granted at the time of watching the ending it did give me a “what the fuck” reaction that the movie was going for, but looking back this sequence did hinder what otherwise was a fantastic piece of creepy unique horror.

Performances across the entire cast were great and really dedicated. Wonderful to see David Dastmalchian finally get a leading role, as he’s always been a stand-out supporting performer, whether he was polka-dotting in The Suicide Squad, or stealing the comedic limelight from Paul Rudd in the Ant-Man movies, or being a haunting presence in every Denis Villeneuve epic. Dastmalchian is a true scene stealer, and at age 48 it is shocking that only now he finally gets a lead role. Regardless he is fantastic as Jack Delroy, as he balances the charming charisma of a late-night talk show host whilst also showcases the inner demons of this character, still mourning the recent death of his wife, as well as his eagerness to become relevant again after consistently losing ratings. From the quivers in his voice to the fear in his eyes, this is a really juicy showcasing role for Dastmalchian and one that is sure to be a memorable one when looking back on the actor’s rich filmography. Ingrid Torelli as Lilly the possessed survivor of a Satanic cult was truly creepy and unnerving. From her voice changes to her awkward movements, she truly felt unnatural, or dare I say supernatural, and her strangeness was at times even comical, but also really uncomfortable. Ian Bliss as Carmichael Hunt, a paranormal sceptic, too gave a powerhouse performance, delivering lines with prowess and was a truly commanding presence. Rhys Auteri rounds up the cast as Gus the announcer of Jack’s late night show, acting very befit of, say, a Higgins for Jimmy Fallon or a Guillermo for Jimmy Kimmel. He very much embraced the role as Dastmalchian’s side-kick and provided some solid light-hearted comedy to the proceedings.

Late Night with the Devil is a true delight for horror enthusiasts, with some great use of old-school practical effects evidently inspired by 1982’s The Thing, solid sound design that harkened back to that era of television, and enough unsettling moments of suspense to entertain and shock. Minus a couple of cheap electrical sparks there isn’t any CGI used which is refreshing, and overall visually the retro element was truly delightful. Again, the ending does scratch some heads, but overall this is a refreshing piece of campy horror, with a showcasing performance from Dastmalchian. In this you can truly put your faith on.

Overall score: 7/10

[juice-plums]

Andre Lee x reader: Nicotine Air

(smutty)

Y/n was in the bathroom of Cognito Inc on the toilet the bathroom that would fit two people she heavily puffs onto her vape pen Y/n’s favorite one the jolly rancher it tasted just like them Jr wanted them to go see the lizard people again and Y/n was freaking out her vape pen was calming her down

Andre Lee popped his head in the bathroom They stared at each other as Y/n blew some smoke out Andre smiles

“I’m sorry I thought I locked it did you need it?”

“No Just thought I find you here you left pretty fast at the meeting today”

he responded walking in and sneakily locking the door sitting right next to her surprised the toilet can fit two people she took another hit it was hairs blowing the smoke everywhere Andre watched her lips releasing the smoke then he took her pen

“What flavor?” He asks Y/n turned to him and scratches her elbow “It’s Jolly rancher” She responds Andre took a hit and blew it out he was a professional of smoking he smoked way stronger drugs than what she did

“Are you nervous about the meeting?” he asks in an soft voice

“Yeah” She says leaning back against the toilet Andre chuckles

“It’s not like you to get scared…what?”

“you are not forced to do something you don’t want to do I always say what I don’t want to do and still get force to do it”

“Yeah I’m way more privileged than you in this industry”

They stare at each other Andre blew some smoke The tiny room was getting foggy like some sort of hot boxing the air was getting an sexy atmosphere Y/n bites her lip leaning into Andre while blowing out smoke and kisses his lips sharing the flavor air

Y/n moans into mouth deepening the kiss air flowing out Andre drops the pen pulling Y/n onto his lap squeezing her bum Slipping his tongue in her mouth she tangles her finger in his hair grinding on his crotch

Pulling him to the tile floor Andre squeezed her chest making her yelp He leaves trails of kisses down her neck unbuttoning her shirt She helps taking off her skirt showing her stockings and panties Andre chuckles looking at her up down at her matching set

“did you get like this for me? did you know I would come in here and check up on you?”

She giggles kissing his chin

“kind of I’ve been dreaming about you devouring,taking control over me…but we were in a castle”

Andre chuckles taking off his suit shirt showing scrawny body his crocs were off he then took off his pants and….

“You’re Not wearing underwear??!!!” She looked damn for a scrawny man he sure was packin Andre chuckles and nods

“mmhm and all for you” Andre grabs the pen taking a big puff he holds his penis in his hand as a little cream colored bead comes out from the tip She spreads her legs Andre pulls her panties to the side

“Please be gentle This is my first ti-AHH!”

Andre enters Y/n’s fresh pussy drool falling down her mouth he groans feeling her clench around his cock making room for him Y/n grips his shoulders Andre rests his forehead on hers going balls deep with a pap sound

Y/n kisses his mouth her face scrunched sweat falling from her forehead Andre holds himself up his hands on both side of Y/n’s head and starts to slowly thrust she brought her hand to her mouth to conceal her grunts and squeals of pain

That did not stop Andre he lowly moans watching his penis going in and out of her the sight made his Penis twitch inside her She squeals her eyes rolling in the back of her head the pit in her stomach hurt she looked there was a lump going up in her stomach then The sensation was changing she began to moan

“Andre Fasterr!!~” she moans wrapping her legs around him Andre grins and began to thrust faster he takes a swift breath with every thrust Y/n screams as her juices leaked from her pussy as Andre rams into her cervix she hopes someone will come in and sees the slut she is making of herself

“Y/n keep clenching like that around me-Ah!~ you’re gonna milk me dry”

“gahhhhhh!~~~ Andre cum in my fucking pussy oooooohhh!!~~ I love it so muchh” She screams Andre grabs her neck and force french kiss her Y/n tugs his hair making Andre Grunt and smack her thighs

“Yeah I’m gonna coat your Fucking womb make it so full of my cum” grabbing a fistful of her hair Y/n began to see white and see stars

“Andre!!!” She yells cumming Andre thrust at a inhuman speed while she came as he came inside her Y/n screams in ecstasy feeling his cum travel inside her Andre pulls out a slight pop sound and his semen leaks out of her

Andre gets beside her and she lays by his side

“There I was your stress reliever” Andre cheekily smiles Y/n slaps his chest playfully though She takes the pen and blew in some smoke then puffs out Passing it to Andre putting the pen to his lips.

•I don’t condone Vaping

[carmenlire]

I've had this taegyu idea floating around since january but I'll readily admit that it is extremely similar to httbt so like on one hand I am absolutely a reader who often thinks "man I wanna read what I just read but new" plus it's in an entirely different fandom but on the other hand like it's literally rockstar beomgyu and probably math teacher taehyun (or maybe grad student, potentially gym owner?).

(lowkey i ended up like fully plotting out the fic/recapping my twt thread so i'm putting the rest under a cut lol.)

like whereas alec was a top 40 sensation solo pop artist, very much channeling biggest name in the industry, beomgyu would be frontman for an indie/niche band (honestly i'm picturing chase atlantic 100% whereas alec was like a tswift) but his band still sells out its tours and is somewhere on the charts, making a very respectable sum.

Beomgyu is feeling ennui, uninspired, very jaded but in a more. . . angsty way than alec? i imagine this fic to be darker/more emotional than httbt with A Big Conflict towards the end where one of them severely fucks up in classic fic fashion.

of course, i've already thought of the opening scene and it makes me realize how totally predictable i am because it's an extremely late night/early morning run-in where taegyu are obviously at very different points in their lives but they have A Conversation and it's the first time beomgyu has felt interested/intrigued by something in forever and taehyun-- actually here's a difference-- he actually has no idea who beomgyu/his band is. beomgyu, ofc, likes that. taehyun just sees a hot guy who's a little fucked up but aren't we all.

looking at my twt thread, i talk a lot about how during that first meeting, beomgyu talks a lot in half-truths, unsure if he can trust taehyun and taehyun is just blunt as always, very no bullshit. they both walk away feeling amped up-- beomgyu feels a little bit like he got an ass kicking, a breath of fresh air and taehyun is intrigued in his own way about this guy who's full of contradictions.

they keep running into each other at the park at these really intimate hours (beomgyu clearing his head/going out whenever there's less of a chance of him being seen and taehyun on his morning runs). eventually one morning, the sun is shining when they both look up and taehyun recommends a lowkey breakfast spot he knows nearby.

despite there clearly being something between them, beomgyu isn't in a place to be in a relationship and taehyun is up front about what he wants/needs and they both respect the other. of course, that doesn't stop them from growing closer until they're like best friends.

constantly texting, both of them start to depend on the other-- on their phone calls, a few minutes of stolen time, on finding the most out of the way restaurants with the best samgyeopsal.

everyone around them knows Something's going on even if taegyu remain infuriatingly tightlipped, both of them wanting to protect this thing between them. the secret relationship aspect is a lot more illicit in this than it was in httbt-- there might not be tabloids to worry about but beomgyu's had a lot of years in the business to grow jaded even if he wishes he could be as open as taehyun. There are some growing pains even if they are both fully invested/committed, even if beomgyu loves being with taehyun and can't get enough.

i'm picturing a classic fic blow-up thanks to beomgyu's rockstar past (?) clashing with taehyun's firm stance on open communication and no bullshit (the blow-up is nothing out of the usual for fic but bc i tend to really love Healthy Communication, i've never written this kinda conflict before but i do think it'll actually fit this au setup and not merely be an excuse for angst lol).

anyway, they totally break up over That Mess and cue beomgyu losing it a little. he gets drunk, writes songs about taehyun, implicitly dedicates those songs to him on stage. he hooks up with someone and feels fucking awful.

he ends up eventually (let's be real they'll probably only be broken up for like a month bc i can't do too much angst lol) doing some soul searching/reflecting on the past months with taehyun and realizing the error of his ways (and even as he was doing it, he was kicking himself bc he didn't even mean the words, he didn't wanna hurt taehyun but his mouth just started without his brain and heart's input rip).

meanwhile taehyun is totally heartbroken (while he seems fine on social media he's kinda falling apart irl) but he was always up front about what he needed from beomgyu if they were gonna do this and he won't bend his own needs and worth just to be with beomgyu.

obviously happy ending!!!! and you know i'll have to include some serious established relationship fluff to make up for all the pain :')

all of which to say..... like i know the premise is very similar to httbt and i feel like there's even more of a spotlight on it since it is obviously my most prolific work (which did also come from a chase atlantic song lmao) but there are differences too???? so like i should just write what i want right?? like especially because i'm worried about being too close to my own work, like it doesn't even matter? and there are some key differences? idk :( i just know i really like the idea.

[animeandfilmotaku]

Haikyuu and how it helped me to find myself and that hunger

I am going a little sappy here, as I am writing this right now, on the shockwave of finishing my last day of work, and I am so grateful for watching Haikyuu and its adventures.

So I have been working in a certain social enteprise for like a good time in my 20’s (like 5 or so) In short, it is great but however I feel basically stuck here with that comfortable utopia, until the end of last year due to personal circumstances I circled into a very bad depression which to the point, I just broke down sobbing and just simply numb mentally and emotionally. I recall during an annual accountability meeting that I simply do want to speak to anyone.

The details are fuzzy, but the weight of work is too much for me, until my family made a choice to go to Japan in the cold winter to let me have a breather. And it is where I let myself figure out what to do, of course I did my pilgrimage to Fushimi Inari shrine to try to climb to the top, because many years back- I did this on my first trip with family friends- after a trying period of dealing with a toxic boss and health issues, which I did not as my health was fragile- which I recovered from a bad cold.

And the most unexpected thing is that I want to know Haikyuu because of my dear work bestie, which I call them affectionally as Bokuaka colleague and my online friend Fawnie talking about the series which I was surrounded curiously by the many merch here, which I snapped so many pictures and share it on discord and telegram, so when I came back home, I decided ok what the heck I am going to watch it, and man it was a breath of fresh air- to see such a small underdog team conquering bigger and scarier teams to reach a simple goal which are the nationals. And along the way, they grew better over many lost matches and wins.

Of course I was team Karasuno as every Haikyuu fan, (yes Asanoya was the pairing that I adore and Asahi’s arc being so inspirational as I faced my own Iron Walls) but however it is Inarizaki high, and mostly the character Miya Osamu that has such a huge significance for me that actually made me settle that decision which I simmer since last January to actually take the plunge.

The team’s motto ‘We don’t need the memories” seems saddening, but it does not mean we must dump away the horrible shit- it means that we do not hold them like precious treasures but learn from it and grow from that experiences. And it is funny, as Inari which the school is named after, is a patron god of foxes which concide with that said shrine that I climbed as a symbolic passing that I am over these tough times just landed to me.

I got to talk about Miya Osamu, my beloved boy which I affectionately called him my boyfriend, that propelled my decision to quit that job, so in short- he is the other half of a mega powerful duo alongside with his brother Atsumu known to be pretty much a terror (I mean even the way they cheer, you can simply lose your shit)- and he is super chill vs his otherwise hot-tempered brother, a lot of people said he is physically better than his brother in terms of stamina and reflexes but however Osamu is aware that he did not have this demonic hunger like Atsumu to pursue further, even a flashback which Atsumu is accepted at Youth Camp-Osamu said frankly that ‘You loved volleyball more than me’. So BKAK colleague was like oh you know Osamu end up working in the food industry, opening his own restaurant because of his passion of food. I did not get it until I watched the speech of Hunger with Osamu in the last set point that gave me that sign and it goes like “When you’re hungry, and you eat a small mouthful of something…it makes you even hungrier.”

And I be like holy shit, what???, and I thought to myself, maybe I am becoming like him, just going by the flow, scared to move out of this comfort zone to search for tastier food which unlike me, I blaze through endless food options to keep me happy (Thank god that Samu has the same passion as me, which is food), which I nearly ugly-sob for such a simple line (Kudos to Hideaki Kabumoto for such a beautiful performance), and watching the video essay of him, made me be like alright- I am going to submit the resignation letter.

Of course, after that said submission, it is where I really struggle myself mentally, if I actually made the right decision, basically gaslighting my ass to all these memories, and I am so grateful that time I decided to rewatch Haikyuu with my mum. And of course rewatching Haikyuu was that source of comfort which I look forward every night after work to watch it.

We talk over the people being like the Ushijimas and the Oikawas over me simply leaving for a new chapter.

Ok imagine an Asian 60 year old mother who binge over K-Dramas screaming like a mad football fan with the matches, and being like I love my boys so much, and Sugawara (My favourite moment from my mum when Daichi is substituted by Ennoshita, my mum be like why Suga did not replace Daichi, I liked him), and she asked me the reason you are able to quit, because of Hinata’s determination and Kageyama’s passion, which I tried to show my mum that Osamu panel, being that same reason and she did not understand why as she said you will be overstuffed.

So we reached the Inarizaki arc, which of course I enjoyed as hell, and it came to that part when we watch the Osamu speech and it suddenly clicked to my mum as I see food as passion, which I figure that I need to venture out to make me hungry again. So she was like oh so the passion of the things you enjoy is akin to a good meal, and she is like yep.

Long story, we managed to get the final date of me working here, which is coincidentally today- and I took the approach of another character from Inarizaki that help me in this transition period is Shinsuke Kita, I know super weird as he is an introvert unlike me, and what strike me is his composure to take things as ‘things as byproducts’ and it was that philosophy to take things as a process, that I even use that line as the header for my handover list. I even repeat that mantra to myself that I must hold these experiences as byproducts of a process, and holding that scene of Kita being happy that they play that final match despite the loss to Karasuno.

On the morning of that last day- I was playing Kita clips to calm me down, to prevent myself for getting emotional over my last day- and I told my mum, I want to be happy like them (akin Osamu in his restaurant and Kita, in his farming job) and she said yes, like Kita in his farm and it gave me so much comfort. And I blasted Hikari Are to calm myself down, knowing there is a bright light to break out of the darkness, that I can conquer my own iron walls.

And it is funny on that said day, I met a bunch of Japanese high-school kids coming for a visit which I broke the ice of telling them I played a chill version of Hikari Are (Haikyuu anime Opening 3), which one  knew that anime and I asked what is her favourite and this girl, from a country prefecture said that she likes Tsukishima which I am like yeh, my favourites from Haikyuu (in my best Japanese, which I self-taught myself during the pandemic), is Inarizaki and Miya Osamu, and my best Japanese adding Kita, the captain. And I spend that day actually trying to make small talk over these Japanese high school kids, which made my heart so happy that even the sensei was kind to see that I am trying so hard to speak in Japanese, which I left the scene with a full heart.

And it struck to me coincidentally, that in the end of things, Haikyuu brought me that strength and courage to move on to my new chapter. Yes, the path may be different as of now, but I am so glad to have that courage to make that path thanks to a small volleyball anime as the lyrics of ひかりあれ go

Hikari are //Daichi wo keru riyuu wa tada hitotsu //Motto mabayuku ore wa toberu Hikari are //Kimi no kyou no kagayaki ga //Mayoeru tomo no ashita wo terasu yo

(Let there be light //There's only one reason to kick the ground I can fly even more radiantly //Let there be light Your sparkles from today will light up a hesitating friend's way)

And I am so grateful for the once flightless crows, and the strong foxes to blaze me through that path, to find my hunger again

So ありがとうございます！古舘ー先生！！！for creating such a motivational piece that blaze through my new path 💕

[the-unheardvoices]

Small Talk with Mr. Yang

The Fruit Seller

Noon. The market is not quite empty, with children milling around here and there, and adults walking close behind them. It is the quieter hours, though, and a languid air saturates the vegetable sellers and fruit sellers’ hawking cries. Crossing through the narrow aisles boarded side-by-side with stacks of chili, cabbage, cucumbers, and lettuce, one finds the fruit sellers at the bend of a curve—just a few steps from the butchers and the wonton booths. Breathe in. The air stinks from the scent of fresh produce. Look forward, and there they are: the large, ripe strawberries, resplendent in their red baskets; the orange tangerines as bright as licks of flame; cherry tomatoes the size of baby buttons; rows upon rows upon rows. An infinite geometric sequence. There are many of them, but the one you have come for is right at the very end. You walk over, a hello wavering from your mouth, when the fruit seller waves at you.

This is the fruit seller, whom your family has bought fruit from for countless years. He sells at a vegetable market called 湖东邻里中心, and he has an additional two stalls at other markets. You do not know his name, and neither do your parents. You only know him for his soundless deliveries to your house, or the cadence of his voice as he responds to your father’s message. This is the first time you ask. He tells you to call him Mr. Yang, and you tell him your name is Claire.

Claire: [nervously] Hi.

Mr. Yang: Hello.

He does not look like you expected him to. He wears glasses, and has a reticent manner about him. His face is very still when he replies. You shift on your feet, fingers playing behind your back.

Claire: Thank you—for accepting my interview request. And taking time out of your schedule. I know you’re very busy.

Mr. Yang: Of course. It was no problem at all. Should I move out of the stall?

He stands behind a wall of fruit, enclosed by similar walls on all four sides, but for a small passage on his left. You nod, and Mr. Yang steps out of his booth. He motions for his wife—a tall woman dressed in a deep blue apron, who is busying around the stall—to man the shop. 

Claire: Thank you. Uh—this is for a project I’m working on. One that can allow people to understand that success isn’t… a one-dimensional thing. That supposedly normal people are not mundane. 

Mr. Yang: I see. I’m happy you thought of me.

Claire: Yes—I wanted to ask, firstly, if you could give a brief overview of your life, and what got you into selling fruit.

Mr. Yang: My family is from Anhui, and that’s where I grew up. We’ve always been involved in the fruit industry—my family had a pear orchard, and we got into the wholesale market. I suppose that’s how I started out, even as a child. I did a lot of wholesale selling before opening my own stall—selling in Shanghai, Anhui, Suzhou. My friend offered to do wholesale with me here in Suzhou, and that’s how I eventually ended up here. My whole family is here now.

Claire: Oh—so fruit selling wasn’t something you’d been introduced to. Was going into this field more of your parents’ influence, then?

Mr. Yang: No, not particularly. 

He smiles—a sad, bemused smile.

Mr. Yang: I wasn’t a good student. I was one of the naughty ones—never paid attention in class. I dropped out of high school when I was seventeen to do wholesaling, so I didn’t have a university degree, or even high school degree, to try for the white-collar jobs. There was no real other choice.

Claire: I see… but you’re doing well now, aren’t you? You’re very successful as a fruit seller—I heard from my dad that you have three stalls.

Mr. Yang: That’s nice of you to say, but we’re only doing decently at this business. It’s enough to sustain our family needs—I’m thankful for that. Yes, we have three stalls.

Claire: I think you’re being humble here, but I’m not going to comment on it. How do you run your stalls efficiently? Surely your family can’t be in charge of all of them? And how do you ensure that everyone’s doing the right thing?

Mr. Yang: That’s correct. We hired managers for the two other stalls—there are some disagreements here and there, especially with the management of fruit quality, but by and large it’s gone well. You have to put some trust in the people you hire and believe that they’ll do their jobs properly. You hired them, after all.

Claire: That makes sense. Does your family have any plans for expansion?

Mr. Yang: Yes, we’re planning on increasing the number of our stalls this year, if the business goes well. There’s also online retailing, but personally, I don’t have great expectations for that.

Claire: I hope that goes well for you! Really? I’d have thought that online retailing would increase sales by a lot.

Mr. Yang: Thank you. What happens with online retailing is that our prices increase by 15-20%—the platform does that—which makes us less competitive. If you see any fruits that are cheaper than usual online, it’s because their quality is often worse. That’s why I much prefer an actual storefront. 

Claire: I see. You mentioned quality—do you think quality is especially important for your business?

Mr. Yang: Absolutely. It’s what attracts our customers. We mainly do repeat business—a customer tries out our fruits once, enjoys them, and comes back, again and again, just like your father. It’s what works for us. 

Claire: Yes—so is quality your main method of advertisement?

Mr. Yang: Indeed. I suppose we could price cheap and get attention that way, but something like that is never long-term. People will come only once for the low price. After they taste the fruit—the quality is bound to suffer from low costs—they’ll recoil at the taste, and never come back again. We don’t like to do business that way.

Claire: That’s very true. Do you think your business model results from how competitive the fruit market is, then?

Mr. Yang: Yes, certainly. The fruit market is competitive—it’s easy to enter, and even easier to fail and exit. Countless people try it out, but plenty fail within months because they don’t know where to buy the best fruits—or just source them from a supplier—and how to price them. They don’t know when to sell a certain fruit and when to not. And even for the ones who survive—why should a customer buy from your stall, and continue buying from your stall, when there are an unending amount of identical stalls? That’s why we focus on quality. My wife and I wake up at three or four every morning to go to the wholesale markets, where we personally taste each fruit to make sure that the quality is of a good standard. When some fruit is about to go bad, we don’t try to push and sell them to a customer. We throw them away. That’s how we maintain our customer base even amidst the market competition.

Claire: It makes sense why you have a stable customer base, then.  Your attention to detail and quality is such a differentiating factor. Well—I have two more questions I’d like to ask you. Firstly, would you like your children to work in the same industry as you, or would you like them to walk another path?

Mr. Yang: I wouldn’t want my children—I have two, one in kindergarten and the other just born—to work in the fruit industry. It’s exhausting and back-breaking labor. I want them to get an education and do something they like. If they can’t find a job, or don’t know what they want, and our business is doing well, I might give them a few fruit stalls to manage—but only if it’s their choice. I don’t want to dictate what they can and can’t do.

Claire: That’s very kind of you. I think they’d appreciate you saying that. 

He smiles, and this time it is a true smile.

Claire: Finally, what is one regret you’ve always held in your life?

Mr. Yang: One regret… I suppose it would be not paying attention in school. I don’t necessarily agree with the Chinese system—it demands too much from its students. My older daughter—she’s in kindergarten, but she’s already overloaded with homework. If I had the financial capability, I’d put my kids into the international school system, but unfortunately I don’t have a choice. Regardless, education is a valuable asset. For a lot of people, it’s the way out. And if I could go back in time, that’s what I’d do. Pay attention in class.

Claire: Thank you.

[theconsofrom-coms]

Falling in Love While in a Relationship? Nope!

Just Justified Cheating!

We can't lie and say that there are many romantic comedies out there in which this becomes one of the main premises. Tell me...does this sound familiar? "Guy in a relationship meets girl who changes the way in which he sees many aspects of his life, she is so different from his own girlfriend/fiancée/wife and such a breath of fresh air, and she seems to treat him so much better!" and vice versa. Yeah, this is something that has become so popular in rom-coms that it should be a sub-genre of its own, I call it Justified Cheating!

We will be focusing on three movies in whose main couple is implicit of Justified Cheating. "Something Borrowed", "The Wedding Planner", and "Sex and the City 2" But make no mistake, there are dozens of rom-coms out there with a cheating premise.

Something Borrowed, or should I say, I will cheat on my fiancée with her best friend!

NOBODY IS INNOCENT IN THIS MOVIE! Rachel, the main character of this movie is in love with her best friend Darcy's fiancée, Dex, and after a night of drinks, end up sleeping together. This act becomes the catalyst for an affair that lasts basically up until the week before the wedding. And before anyone says "poor Darcy," well things are more complicated than that, as we find out that Darcy has also been having an affair with a man named Marcus, moreover, she's pregnant with his baby! WITH HIS BABY! But the cheating is soon found out, and Darcy, while hypocritical, is upset at finding out that her best friend has been sleeping with Dex, a man she was already engaged to.

This movie romanticizes cheating, as though it is okay as long as you have feelings for one another, as Rachel and Dex did since they had known each other since law school. That if you aren't totally fulfilled in your relationship, it is totally fine to find someone else out there to revitalize you, as long as you are still with your partner and make them believe in the so called relationship you have with each other.

The Wedding Planner, a guy just being a guy!

Mary is a woman who after a fatal break-up with her fiancée who she had found cheating with her maid of honor and best friend (Funny, how this seems to be a pattern, huh) has focused on her career as one of the best wedding planners in the industry. It all changes when she is rescued by a man, called Eddie. They go on a date and seem to have a genuine connection, even almost kissing at one point, but it all comes tumbling down, when she finds out that Eddie is the groom of the latest wedding Mary is planning.

It's funny to see how when confronted by the issue, all Eddie has to say is "Maybe I was just being a guy..." as if that is any excuse to cheat on your fiancée. Just guys being guys, right? Mary is no less innocent, as she continues to flirt with and make suggestive remarks towards Eddie when it comes to her growing feelings, although I will praise her for removing herself from the situation once she realized she was playing with fire. In the end though, Eddie and his ex have an amicable break-up the day of their wedding and Eddie finds Mary. While, there was never any instance where Eddie and Mary slept with, kissed, or showed any sort of physical affection, the intent behind their interactions was there. It was obvious that they were both falling for each other and instead of staying apart to avoid any heartbreak, they continued to be constantly in each other's faces. So yeah, apparently if you start falling out of love with a woman you've been with for a multiple amount of years, it is okay to cheat? Really?

And finally, Sex and The City 2, looking for unnecessary drama.

Well...what could we really expect from a movie whose main character is Carrie Bradshaw? Throughout the entirety of the franchise, both movie and show it was shown that Carrie thrived on the idea of having a relationship filled with glamour and drama, which is why it is so hard for her to live a regular married life. Finally, after so many years of wanting the aforementioned "Mr. Big" to be the one man in her life, she starts to feel stale in her marriage after 5 years. She is concerned that the sparkle of their relationship will fade, especially because they have decided not to have children. It would just be the two of them, for the rest of their lives.

This need for drama is only intensified when, in a trip to Abu Dhabi with her best friends, she runs into Aiden, a man who she had considered to be her other great love. A man, mind you, who she had previously cheated on with Big. They greet each other as old friends do, and considering the perplexing circumstances of their reunion, Carrie starts to believe it meant something. Although her friends advise against her going to dinner with Aiden, saying she's "playing with fire" she turns a blind eye to their warnings. And drumroll please...kisses Aiden on that date. And while many may say that it was just a kiss, it was not because it involves a man who once upon a time, was just as important for Carrie as Big is. While her and Big are able to reconcile after this incident, Carrie is never fully punished for her actions, although let's be honest, when has Carrie ever suffered the consequences of her actions in a permanent way.

And so, that is all I have to say in respect to romantic comedies' hidden subgenre, Justified Cheating!

I'll be back soon with our next topic, what will it be?

I wonder...

[unitedstatesofworld]

Charles Todd Hill HGTV: The Man Behind the Vision

Ever wondered who’s behind those jaw-dropping renovations on HGTV? Charles Todd Hill is a name that's been making waves in the home renovation world, and his work is nothing short of extraordinary. With a unique approach to design and a knack for transforming spaces, Charles Todd Hill HGTV projects have captured the hearts of many. But who is he really? And what makes his work stand out in a sea of talented designers and renovators?

Who is Charles Todd Hill?

Charles Todd Hill is a name that has become synonymous with stylish home transformations. Known for his appearances on HGTV, Hill brings more than just good looks to the table. His designs are bold, fresh, and uniquely his own. As a leading figure in the home renovation industry, Hill has carved a niche for himself through a combination of creativity, technical skill, and an eye for detail.

Bold and innovative designs

A unique flair for combining modern and classic elements

Over a decade of experience in the industry

But his rise to fame didn’t happen overnight. Oh no, Charles Todd Hill HGTV success came from years of hard work, dedication, and, of course, a dash of luck!

From Humble Beginnings to HGTV Stardom

Every success story has humble beginnings, and Charles Todd Hill’s journey is no exception. Growing up in a small town, Hill developed an early interest in design, drawing inspiration from the natural landscapes around him. However, it wasn’t until he moved to a bustling city that he realized his true passion for interior design and renovation.

Hill's big break came when he was scouted by HGTV producers who were impressed by his innovative approach to design. From there, his career skyrocketed, and he became a household name in the world of home improvement.

A Quick Look at Hill's HGTV Debut:

First show aired: Transform My Space

Major renovation projects featured on HGTV

Launched his own design firm shortly after

The Charles Todd Hill HGTV Approach

So, what sets Charles Todd Hill apart from other designers? His signature style, of course! Hill’s approach blends the old with the new, creating spaces that are both modern and timeless. He’s all about using clean lines, bold colors, and unique textures to craft spaces that feel fresh and inviting.

But let’s not forget his attention to detail. Charles Todd Hill HGTV projects often showcase small but impactful elements—think statement lighting or custom-built furniture—that make all the difference. And, while some designers may stick to the same-old, same-old, Hill loves to push boundaries and take risks.

The Secret Sauce:

Bold, vibrant color schemes

Combining vintage finds with contemporary furniture

A focus on functionality without sacrificing style

Why Viewers Love Charles Todd Hill HGTV

It’s no surprise that Hill has developed a loyal fan base over the years. Viewers tune in not just to see the incredible transformations, but to witness Hill’s genuine passion for his craft. His down-to-earth personality and relatable approach to design make him stand out among other HGTV personalities.

Moreover, his ability to breathe life into old spaces resonates with viewers who dream of doing the same in their own homes. Whether it’s transforming a cramped kitchen into an open-concept masterpiece or turning a boring bedroom into a stylish retreat, Hill’s work is both inspiring and accessible.

The Impact of Charles Todd Hill HGTV on Home Design Trends

There’s no denying that Charles Todd Hill HGTV has had a massive influence on home design trends. In fact, many of the trends we see today—open shelving, mixed metals, and bold wall colors—can be traced back to Hill’s groundbreaking work on HGTV. His projects have set the tone for what’s “in” when it comes to home design.

It’s safe to say that Hill has helped shape the way we think about space, encouraging homeowners to embrace color and creativity in their renovations. His philosophy is simple: don’t be afraid to make bold choices. After all, the spaces we live in should reflect our personalities!

Lessons from Charles Todd Hill HGTV

What can we learn from Charles Todd Hill’s approach to design? Plenty! First and foremost, Hill teaches us that design should never be boring. Whether you’re working with a large budget or a shoestring one, there’s always room to experiment with color, texture, and layout.

Take Risks: Don’t be afraid to try something new. A bold paint color or an unconventional layout might just be the game-changer your space needs.

Focus on Functionality: While aesthetics are important, functionality should never take a back seat. A beautiful space is useless if it’s not practical.

Mix and Match: Hill is a master at blending different styles. Don’t hesitate to mix modern furniture with vintage pieces or bold patterns with neutral tones.

Charles Todd Hill’s Future on HGTV

What’s next for Charles Todd Hill HGTV? With his growing popularity and innovative ideas, the sky's the limit! Fans can expect even more exciting projects, new shows, and perhaps even a product line in the future.

Whether he’s redesigning a mid-century modern home or giving a tiny apartment a much-needed facelift, one thing is for sure—Charles Todd Hill isn’t slowing down anytime soon. His influence on the world of home design is only going to grow, and we can’t wait to see what he comes up with next!

Conclusion

In the world of home renovation, few names are as influential as Charles Todd Hill. With his bold design choices, undeniable talent, and passion for creating beautiful spaces, it’s no wonder he has become a fan favorite on HGTV. His projects not only inspire viewers but also push the boundaries of what’s possible in home design.

Whether you’re a fan of his work or just looking for inspiration for your next home project, Charles Todd Hill HGTV is definitely a name to watch. So, what are you waiting for? Get inspired, take risks, and maybe you’ll find yourself living in a space that’s as unique and stylish as one of Hill’s designs!

[realityhelixcreates]

By Talos, This Can't be Happening Chapter 14: Chorrol County Cruise

Swag is a man who loves his shopping.

@cardwrecks

?~?~?~?~?

To the west, and green. To the west and green. Starlight, dyed red, a luminescence hovering in his hands. A caged lizard in a ruined cave. A field watered with blood. Layers of paint obscuring the face of a loved one.

“Challenge.” a feminine voice, everywhere at once, inside. “You bring it on yourself.”

A shadow under the great oak outside the mages guild. Lightning striking a mountaintop. The path rolled out in rays like-

“Starlight...” he mumbled.

“Hm?” Helix mumbled back, not really awake, but merely responding to his voice.

“Nothin' babe. Go back to sleep.”

“Mm.”

Sometime later, he dragged himself out of bed, realizing she'd gotten up earlier than him. There was a basin of warm water and their soap in one corner of the room, waiting for him, a plate of fruit and what looked like a medieval muffin. There was also a full change of clothes. Swag held up the new garments-black with a very decorative silvery trim. Looked like they'd fit, though the trousers might be a bit short. It wouldn't matter if he tucked the hems into his boots. But would that look good? And where had these come from? He couldn't imagine they'd just been left lying around; they looked to be very high quality, like that incredible linen that had been wiped out of history by industrialization.

It did fit well, a little padded at the shoulders, but nothing blocky, and surprisingly breathable and flexible. And yes, the hems were a bit short, but not as noticeably as he'd predicted. He ate, got his hair at least partially tamed, and went in search of Helix.

She was just outside the bedroom, heating one of her alchemical mixtures in what he could only describe as a 'contraption', an elaborate alembic setup dripping hydrosol into a potpourri of salts and ash.

She had also come by a new set of clothing, a confection of green velvet and silk patterned like the leaves of the oak outside. In fact, it was quite similar to the getup Earana had been sporting, but Helix, in his opinion, wore it so much better.

God, that color looked so good on her.

He caught her staring back, and he knew that look. He held his hands up in front of him.

“Hey, I just got these on.” he joked, and she grinned.

“I've got to keep an eye on this anyway.” she said. “Maybe later.”

“Whattaya mean 'maybe'? I see you lookin'. Where'd these come from, anyway?”

“Oh, Anthragar thought we looked a bit ragged, I reckon. He pressed these on me as soon as I went upstairs. Might be custom, or might be he worried we'd make the guild look un-posh or some such. Our other clothes are off for a proper cleaning.”

“Better not damage them. That's my favorite vest.”

“You've got seven more just like it back home.”

“What can I say? I like to be on brand. And it's the only one I have here!”

“It'll be fine. Got any plans for the day?”

Figured I'd go visit the smith. Guy in Bruma recommended her for making a set of gauntlets. Prolly oughta sell off what we got that wasn't already coins.”

Oh right. Here.” She began to remove her ring.

“Uh...you know what? Keep hold of that. Might come in handy later. And I'll see if there isn't anything going on around town, any odd jobs or whatever. I'll keep myself occupied, don't worry. And I won't end up in jail again, so don't worry about that either.”

Because he knew she would.

He left the guild and had to dodge around the back to avoid being spotted by Earana, who was stalking around the great oak like a hunting animal.

The slums of Chorrol were...actually pretty nice from his perspective, basically the opposite of what they'd be in Gotham. Small, single story timber buildings, with space between them, and not a one condemned or falling down. Bright green grass everywhere, and fresh air.

Swag didn't know how much longer he could survive without microdosing on minerals with every breath. And the water not tasting of metal, surely that wasn't how nature had meant it. Where would he get his daily cadmium?

The street, still scrupulously clean, even here, curled around another large cathedral, which he walked straight past, and back into the main thoroughfare. A large statue dominated this end of town, a woman holding a fallen soldier in her arms. Close by, a cute little Rennfaire styled sign declared 'Northern Goods and Trade', a place he definitely wanted to check out.

Inside was another lizard in a dress. An actual dress this time, not a mage robe. Perhaps it could be assumed this one was female, the dress, the smaller size, and the somewhat higher pitched-though still rough-voice might lead to that conclusion. But otherwise, it wasn't that easy to tell. He couldn't help but wonder about the evolutionary story there, unless what Helix had told him was correct, and there was no evolution here.

She introduced herself as Seed-Neeus, because that was just how Argonian names were, apparently. She was also a shrewd businesslizard, and Swags haggling over the mediocre potions didn't go at all as well as he'd planned. He did get a good price for the pearl, the bronze ring, and the green gems-tourmalines, she informed him-though he kept one back for himself. The silver just went by weight, but it was worth quite a bit, and he chatted with her about local affairs, and the rest of Cyrodiil. He was from so very far away after all.

He got the feeling she was not impressed with his attempted compliments on her weird head fin things, but he was trying. He had no way to tell how old she was; maybe she'd just heard it all before. Or maybe he just wasn't her type, which, like, yeah.

But she did mention that a fellow named Guilbert Jemane had gotten some disturbing news, and was acting more erratic and drunken than usual, that there was some kind of trouble brewing on a farmstead just outside of town, and that there had been a large flush of newcomers to the city recently, including a small group from the nearby Weynon Priory; humble monks that were usually so self sufficient that they rarely ever visited.

He headed across the street towards the Fire and Steel, passing by a man arguing loudly with a gate guard that he'd never even been to Cheydinhal, but he was thinking of going just so he could lay a beatdown on some guy who was pretending to be him.

Inside the smiths shop, his eyes were first caught by a huge, olive green woman with short, spiky hair. She had large tusks and small eyes, but she barely looked at him. That must be an orc. Huh, not too bad. She was engaged in conversation with a jovial, dark skinned woman and an elf who was sporting the most gorgeous set of crystalline green armor.

Swag was instantly smitten. Where could he get a set of that? He would look like a god.

Imagine rocking up to the mages guild in that.

“Welcome!” the smith called to him after the orc and elf, an adventuring pair, had left. “Welcome to the Fire and Steel! You're new in town too, aren't you? Well met! I'm Rasheda. Is there anything I can interest you in? At all?”

Her eyes swept up his form in approval. Swag grinned.

“Maybe, maybe. First of all, that green armor the elf fellow was wearing; was that yours?”

“The glass armor? No, I didn't make that. No one can make that. He found it in a ruin somewhere.”

“Glass?”

Rasheda laughed.

“Sounds bad, doesn't it? It's not actually made of glass, its some magical alloy the Ayleids came up with thousands of years ago. It just looks like glass. Tough as steel though, and less than half the weight! Imagine if we could someday figure it out! But for now, the only way to get any is to find it in one of the Ayleids ruins, or to get it off of someone else who did. If you do, bring it back here, I can make sure it fits you right. Remarkable stuff, it can be formed like steel too, reshaped for a better fit.”

“Only in the ruins, huh? Pretty rare then.”

“Yeah, but I see more of it than you might think. We get adventurers in pretty regularly, due to all the ruins in the Great Forest outside of town. The Ayleids were populous here, and there are quite a few mines and caves, and remnants from the Alessian Empire too. There's a lot out there to be reclaimed.”

“Any to the North of here?” Earana had said that the book she wanted was located in an Ayleid ruin.

“Yes, a few. And there's Sancre Tor as well. Huge place, three ruined towers. Most of the wall has fallen down, but I here its not uncommon for people to just disappear around there.”

“Uh...I might have seen it, yeah. Creepy place.”

“Well, that's the best I can give you when it comes to glass. Is there anything else?”

She was looking again, unabashed interest in her dark eyes.

“Yeah, actually. Two things. What would you recommend for someone who's never worn armor before? And also, the smith in Bruma recommended you for a pair of custom gauntlets. Was he on the level?”

“Bruma? Wait, you mean Fjotreid? He remembers me?”

“Had nothing but praise for your work. Said you could make a pair of gauntlets so fine, they might as well be my own skin. Sure like to see that.”

“He said that?” her huge smile flashed white, even as her cheeks darkened with flattered pleasure. “What a sweetheart! And he's not wrong, either. I can do that. Let me see your hands.”

He held them out, and she flipped them over, spread the fingers out, commenting cheekily about their length and shape.

“You seem like the sort who likes to be light on your feet.” she said, lapsing away from flirtatiousness and into the more serious part of her job. “Reinforced leather jerkin, something in the Khajiti style maybe. Quiet. Flexible. Blued steel for the gauntlets; you'd want a solid strike for those. Not the mitten type, I'm assuming, more like the elven glove type, right?”

“Sounds right.”

“I have some leather already mostly put together, I could get some measurements and alter something for you right now. The gauntlets have to be bespoke though. Everybody's hands are different, and most pugilists' aren't as graceful as yours.”

She quoted him two prices, the armor quite reasonable, but the gauntlets quite a bit outside his current price range. It made sense; all the little pieces, specially treated, carefully fitted.

He agreed to have measurements taken for the armor, and the frisky attitude returned, her hands lingering longer than strictly necessary, a little bit of shared innuendo.

“You know, I have a lot of free time today. Anything I can do around the place to maybe shave a few coins off those gauntlets?” he suggested.

Rasheda grinned wide.

“Well...” she drawled.

Then she locked the door.

Swag laughed.

?~?~?~?~?

[drewandareview]

My Top Ten Favorite YouTube Channels

Originally published July 23rd, 2013

Sometimes I feel inadequate because I don’t have any “underground interests".  But other times, I realize I definitely have underground interests.  I’d say my most solid proof of this is my devotion to Internet entertainment.  I don’t know of many people who take it quite as seriously as I do, and I have as much passion for watching it as I do making it.

So to shed a little bit of my “hip side" unto you, here are my top 10 favorite YouTube channels with brief descriptions of why I picked them.  (Disclaimer: I have the right to include my own channels if I want to.  But I’m not going to.)

10. nigahiga   I actually started out on YouTube before the thing was even two years old.  At the time, I viewed it as a place for amateur auteurs.  Where one person can make everything herself.  I thought that was fascinating, and that’s largely the kind of content you would find on YouTube at the time (2007).  But, as with all good ideas, YouTube expanded and grew business-oriented. I have no resentment toward this because I understand it.  I’m jumping onto that boat myself.

But I still have deep veneration for the people who truly do everything themselves, and for that, I have to include Ryan Higa on the list, the man behind nigahiga.  He’s been doing this YouTube thing for even longer than I have and while he’s seen much success and popularity, he still has that old-school “YouTube touch" where he does everything himself.  In addition to some clever yet juvenile comedy, you can watch the progression of a person refining his craft.  It’s a fun ride.

9. vlogbrothers The premise is simple: Two brothers send vlogs to each other, one vlog from each brother for a total of two vlogs a week.  And my are their brains something to be admired.  They’re very honest with who they are and what they feel and even in the face of their popularity, they’re more committed to cultivating artistic growth and promoting identity than doing things for money or fame.  It’s admirable to see two vloggers not only with compelling chemistry, but also an earnest love for who they are as people.

8. SecretAgentBob He’s more popularly known as FilmCow, and even more popularly known as “the guy that made Charlie the Unicorn".  His animation is crude and unpleasant, even more so than South Park, but the complete dive into maddening, aimless comedy is a breath of fresh air in a sea of videos with poor aim.  Jason Steele and his team of loyal friends are a truly funny bunch whose effort to making no-shits-given content is as satisfying as it is needed.

7. CGPGrey Not everything popular on YouTube is comedy.  What’s particularly refreshing is to see a surge of interest in channels revolving around education.  By far my favorite of these channels is CGPGrey.  It’s one guy making animated slideshows that illustrate a point of interest.  He seems like “just a normal guy", but the level of research and detail he exerts just to make sure he doles out the right information shows not only a propensity for knowledge, but a respect for those learning from him.  His videos are as amusing as they are beneficial and for someone you never see in person, his presence as a teacher is something remarkable.

6. sxephil Most newscasts are boring.  It’s industry standard to read the news without attachment or much personality.  Which is why Phillip DeFranco is really something unique.  He’ll tell you the news, but only the news he cares about and in the way he wants to.  This could be an annoying trip were he an annoying person, but Phillip DeFranco has an enrapturing view of the world accompanied and a blunt sense of humor that collectively, you just can’t help but dig.  Hopefully his shtick might inspire a wave of more subjective newscasters so those looking to get the scoop can have some variety as well as some personality.

5. StarKidPotter Meet Team Starkid, a contemporary theater troupe of cult status yet all the talent deserving of full-throttle stardom.  While the members of the troupe rotate, each one brings to its productions the finesse of an adult paired with the unadulterated imagination of a kid.  Their videos mainly consist of recorded footage of live shows and while low on budget, they’re written with great humor and sincerity.  The music always soars, the performances always dazzle, and the theatrics of Team Starkid always vibrate with vibrancy.

4. MW10T It’s hard to really place what Mike Peterson is all about.  A low-end member of the film business, Man With 10 Toes really shines with his overt nonsensicality that he heavily breathes into anything he creates.  His greatest attribute is his shameless disconnection from inhibition and embracement of his wholly bizarre mein.  No matter how effortless his work, it’s always labeled with the undeniably engaging mark of his strangeness.  Manwith10toes is the fucked-up fruit on the tree that tastes absolutely amazing.

3. titleofshow It’s not a very active channel anymore and certainly not something a modern YouTuber would gawk over.  It’s the home to “the [title of show] show", a documentation of the process it took to get the musical [title of show] onto Broadway.  The concept is already rich as Broadway is a place with many secrets and any look into its process is worth the time.  But these four friends are wonderful, chromatic people to take this journey with.  Each has a distinct personality, but they all emanate with an honest passion for what they do and an authentic appreciation for their audience.  It doesn’t hurt that the show they’re trying to put on is one of the greatest shows I’ve seen.  It’s a fantastic series: Informative, funny, and even a touching reminder of the great things that can happen when you follow your dreams.

2. BriTANickdotcom BriTANick is sketch comedy at its absolute finest.  Comprised of duo Brian and Nick, their videos exude everything the perfect sketch could have.  They’re inventive, well-paced, unexpectedly well-acted, and culminate into a perfect laugh batch that no fan of comedy should miss.  Their only agenda is to bring out the best in humor.  They’ve had some misses, but when they hit, they hit to sink.

1. 5secondfilms It’s a delight to see so many people (to the point where you lose count) all coming together to make something that on the surface seems pretty trivial.  5 Second Films are exactly what you think: People that make films that are five seconds.  And after nearly five years of uploading five videos a week, they haven’t missed a beat.  5 Second Films gives you the best way to waste your time while simultaneously showing just what kind of gold you can strike when you don’t waste a second.  Relentlessly bold and ostensibly gifted, 5 Second Films delivers short content with a long reach.

The Internet is only a medium.  But it’s a medium that’s brought forth enriching content that I hardly see in any other medium.  When you do things for the Internet, you’re taken much less seriously than when you do things for television or the big screen.  But the Internet, despite being largely embraced by the world, still manages to be one of the best-kept secrets when it comes to entertainment.  While I certainly hope this doesn’t last forever, I’ll embrace the hippness that comes with beaming over something so in the dark.