#literally got this response minutes after blocking the first account they messaged me i

[whos-gwineth]

Holy shit wtf did I do to this person

[pulaasul]

Apologies

A/N: Credits to @redlyncentral​ and @cadetcama​ for providing my co writer the necessary corrections and creative juices for the story.

After opening night, Ricky confronts Gina about her treatment towards him, ever since Carlos's Quinceañero. Gina opens up to Ricky.

FFN I Ao3

--------

Days have passed since opening night. East High's Drama department has just finished dismantling their props and sets from their final showing of their production of 'Beauty and the Beast'. Everyone was heading to the school's pool to celebrate a successful three-night showing of their musical.

Gina was in front of her locker, storing up some things that she won't need at Ashlyn's, while EJ was in the nearby bathroom.

"Gina, c-can we talk?"

EJ made his presence known by leaning on the side of the lockers but he did not approach his girlfriend or the boy who approached her.

"Okay." Gina stoically answered.

"Like… Talk-talk?" Ricky tried again.

"Meet me at the bomb shelter in two minutes," Gina provided. "We can talk there privately, everyone's already at the pool"

Ricky simply nodded and immediately headed towards the rehearsal room.

"Are you sure about this?" EJ approached his girlfriend as soon as Ricky left.

"I have to tell him why at some point, he needs to know what he had done to hurt me."

"Do you want me there with you?"

"No, I can handle this." Gina shook her head. "Just wait for me here, or you can go on ahead to the pool and wait for me there."

"I'll wait here for you." EJ nodded.

---------

"You want to talk?"

"Right," Ricky nodded as he stood up to face Gina. "Can I ask what changed between you and me?"

"Changed? Nothing changed between us, Ricky." Gina shook her head. "Why would you think that?"

"I don't know," Ricky sighed. "Before this, you've been giving me one-word responses if you don't outright ignore me," He answered.

"Are you really that oblivious?" Gina questioned.

"E-excuse me?"

"You are excused." Came Gina's automatic reply.

"P-please, Gina, can you please tell me if I did something wrong?" Ricky begged. "I'm tired of trying to puzzle out everyone's thoughts and feelings." He sighed. "Please, do me a favor and lay it out straight to me?"

"That's fair," Gina agreed. "Okay, Ricky, what you did during Carlos's Quinceañero was not cool. You hurt me a lot when you asked me about Nini, Ricky."

"H-how did I hurt you?" Ricky gulped as he tried to rack his brain during that time, but he came up with nothing.

"Tell me, Ricky, were you aware of the gravity of my words during our HSM opening night?" Gina asked.

"That was a lo-"

"Yes, it was a love confession, I confessed my feelings to you, Ricky." Gina cut the boy off. "It was bad enough that half of your attention was on Nini but I accepted that you both were back and happy together, I didn't want to be in between the two of you."

"What did I do that hurt you so much then?"

"The fact that you casually threw in the 'if we were dating' line." Gina bluntly replied. "I can't believe that you, of all people, would say that to me, when you know what I did months ago."

"Tha-"

"I gave you a chance to leave the conversation, Ricky, I gave you plenty of chances, but you still pushed it."

"But I thought, you were okay with me confiding in you? You granted Big Red's question about Nini."

"Tell me, Ricky, does Big Red know of what happened during that night?"

"Of course, not!" Ricky was quick to reply. "The only one who knows is Nini, even then I don't think she quite knew of what you really meant."

"And for that, I thank you," Gina expressed her gratitude. "But that doesn't change the fact that I was hurt by your actions." She shook her head. "The reason I gave the okay to Big Red asking me about what you want to text to Nini during the snowstorm was because of the simple fact that Big Red was there."

"Huh?"

"Big Red did not know about that night, frankly only EJ and Ashlyn knew what happened." Gina shared. "I didn't want him to suspect something going on between us, to avoid any uncomfortable questions, I gave the okay to continue."

"I-"

"You thought, because of that, you can confide in me with everything that has to do with Nini." Gina summarized Ricky's thoughts.

With Gina laying everything down, Ricky finally realized that he made a huge mistake. He knew he was selfish when he went behind Nini's back to get her into the show, he didn't think that his selfishness hurt one more person, in the form of Gina.

"I-"

"I'm sorry, Ricky, I don't think I can forgive you anytime soon," Gina admitted. "What you did to me hurt a lot, maybe in time I can, but not now."

"I…I see." Ricky looked at his shoes. "For what it's worth, Gina, I'm sorry for hurting you in that way."

Gina simply nodded.

Ricky turned around and left the rehearsal room.

As soon as Ricky was out of the room, EJ went inside and immediately engulfed his girlfriend in a hug.

"Let it out, just let it out."

Gina buried herself more on EJ's chest as she cried. Ricky was really the first friend she made during her time in East High and for it to end this way, it hurt so much.

"You know, he tried asking for my permission or blessing to talk to you," EJ shared. "His exact words were, 'Would you be mad if I talked to Gina?'"

"W-why would he do that?" Gina sniffled as she looked at her boyfriend. "What did you tell him?"

"I told him no, I won't." EJ answered honestly. "The last time I got angry with someone for texting my girlfriend, it ended with me broken-hearted."

"Aww EJ, you do learn." Gina teased. "The question still remains, why would he do that?"

"I have some inkling of an answer but I don't really know for sure." EJ admitted.

"Why do you think?" Gina urged as she wiped her tears from her face.

"I think it has something to do with Nini," EJ admitted. "It's no secret that Ricky tried to break Nini and I up, in hindsight, he felt he was justified because all he knew was that they were just on a break and didn't break up."

"But she thought it was a break-up," Gina interrupted. "Those two are very bad at communicating their feelings." She sighed.

"You can say that again." EJ agreed.

"So?"

"So, when Ricky sent Nini a voice message, I confronted and told him to stay away, I think that's where he got the idea from." EJ admitted.

"If you hadn't told Ricky to stay away from Nini, you wouldn't have been found out." Gina informed.

"True, and I probably won't have my confidence crushed by Nini's incredible ghosting abilities." EJ chuckled.

"Wait, she ghosted you?" Gina exclaimed.

"After ignoring my texts, calls, and voice messages, even got Kourtney to lie for her, she blocked my number and my social media accounts," EJ informed. "It felt like she was literally breaking my ribcage and went for my heart."

"I don't know if I should call that petty or something else?" Gina admitted.

"Definitely something else." EJ chuckled.

"Eej, why does it hurt?" Gina sighed as she slumped on a nearby chair.

"Because he was the first friend you made here in East," EJ answered. "You didn't think that he could hurt you much more than just seeing him with Nini."

"But I'm used to moving around, I should be used to this," Gina tried to counter. "I should be used to this." She repeated.

"No one can really get used to this, Gi." EJ shook his head as he knelt on one knee in front of her. "You felt like Ricky betrayed you, that's why it hurt so much."

"How do you know so much?"

EJ fished a book from his bag and gave it to his girlfriend.

"I've been reading that book as my pastime." EJ admitted.

"Do you even sleep?" Gina exclaimed. "You have so many clubs, so many sports, and you're the senior class treasurer to top it off!"

"I'm just good with managing my time," EJ shrugged. "Ashlyn and I are."

"It does help that the both of you are intelligent."

"I won't go that far, I can't find words to rhyme with sorry." EJ shook his head.

"Vary? Starry?" Gina listed.

"Clearly, you know more than I do." EJ chuckled.

Gina chuckled alongside her boyfriend.

"So are we good to join everyone by the pool?" EJ asked.

"How you managed the principal to let us use the pool to celebrate will forever remain a mystery to me, I've overheard other clubs groaning that we can use the pool."

"It probably has to do with the fact that I did not cheat at Waterpolo during tournaments," EJ answered. "No one probably knows, but after those self-exposing videos I posted on Instagram, I was banned to play the sport for months as the tournament officials investigated my claims."

"Why would you do that?" Gina was full-on grinning.

"It felt freeing at the time," EJ shrugged. "In any case, what I meant in those videos was whenever the school had us play against our teammates."

"You, EJ Caswell, are one bizarre person."

"That, and my father is on the school board." EJ chuckled. "I still got an earful from both my parents and Ashlyn's parents." He shivered.

"Thank you for Everything, EeJ." Gina smiled as she stood up.

"It's what boyfriends do." EJ grinned. "Be there for their girlfriends."

"Aww, that's awfully sweet of you."

“Hey, it’s what boyfriends are for, being awfully sweet.”

[kakakakashi]

Flightless Bird (Part 1/4)

Merry Christmas @wooobuddyletsgetnasty!!! 

I wanted to write this as a gift to someone who I’m honored to know. She’s literally an angel on earth. She is doing so much for others right now, and I wanted to give her this piece for Christmas, as a way to give back to her and to show her how grateful I am for her work and her friendship. 

- 

Keigo Takami (Hawks) x Reader 

Warnings: cursing, implied tattooing without a doctor’s license, lots of words that don’t make sense, idk, man. 

EDIT: OMG! I FORGOT TO ADD THAT THIS HAS MANGA SPOILERS & I HOPE I DIDN’T SPOIL IT FOR ANYBODY! I’M SO SORRY! 😭

Word count: 1,246

A/N: Keigo’s phone screen is shattered like 25/8. Change my mind. Anyway, who else is screeching about the latest chapter. 

- 

Checking your watch again, you noted that your latest client was late by thirteen minutes. You’d told him to be on time, but apparently, he had another idea. Glancing through the crowd to absentmindedly people watch, you imagined the crowd’s lives. The businessman on the phone was probably on his way to a meeting. Maybe he worked in finance. Maybe not. The little girl holding onto her mother’s hand made a smile quirk on your lips while she babbled on about her most recent lesson in school. However, a familiar figure in the crowd immediately stole your attention.

Sure, he was wingless and retired after his most recent battle, but he was still famous. This was going to ruin everything. You weren’t about to discuss your illegal tattoo business in front of a well-known hero. He’d surely run you in, and you’d end up with fines up your ass for tattooing without a doctor’s license. The client you were meeting with, Keigo was his name if memory served you well, was definitely not getting off to a good start, first, leaving you hanging, and now putting your ass on the line. It was probably best to ask for a rain check.

Strike that, you were definitely cancelling. Hawks, the famed hero you’d spotted, casually approached the bench on which you were currently seated before her reclined on the opposite end. Even without the vermillion feathers trailing behind him, it was obvious who he was. Pulling your phone out of your pocket to message Keigo, you began to wonder if you should even put in the effort. After all, the guy had missed his appointment.

“Sorry I’m late,” the young hero beside you spoke. Out of your peripheral vision, you noticed his iconic honey eyes were focused straight ahead, so you chose to ignore him. However, he continued, “Thanks for agreeing to meet me. I’ve been a fan of your work for years now.”

Raising your gaze from your phone, you skeptically side eyed him. After glancing to see who he could be talking to, you scoffed, “Me?”

“Yeah,” the corners of his mouth twitched up in a small smile, “You’re Y/N, right? The, uh, artist?”

You tried to imagine him sprouting a second head at his words. He had no real proof of who you were, so you knew it was a matter of who could be more convincing. “Sorry, I think you’re mistaken. I’m in marketing.”

It wasn’t a lie. That’s why you specifically chose those words. You ran your own social media page, after all. That’s how you got all your clients. As a matter of fact, you were currently out on business.

“I know.” You glanced at the hero to find him smirking at you with a crooked grin that was usually plastered on magazines. It was obvious he was trying to be charming, and you had to forcibly suppress the impulse to roll your eyes. “That’s how I found you, after all. Although, I can’t really like all your posts from my public account since I am… well… me, and it wouldn’t look good if someone in my line of work was liking photos of your, uh, artwork. I’m guessing you understand since it seems like you recognize me. I’m Keigo.”

You didn’t have to imagine the second head sprouting this time. Genuine confusion flashed across your annoyed expression. “What?”

Upon your disbelief, Hawks reached into his pocket to dig out his phone. He quickly unlocked it before opening the string of messages, holding the shattered screen out for you to read. Sure enough, when you glanced over the messages, you found your exact words in the bubbles. Glancing at the account, you noted the username matched Keigo’s as well. Fuck. You were screwed. You were going to get arrested for sure. Almost reading your mind, Hawks tried to quell your nerves.

“Look, this isn’t some kind of sting operation or anything. I’m coming here as Keigo, not Hawks.” The alias sent a flash of a shadow across his casual expression. The light in his eyes dimmed slightly when he continued in a softer tone, “I can’t do that kind of work anymore… That’s part of why I’m here, actually.”

All the noise of the city went silent to you. This wasn’t a good idea. He was probably lying. After all, he was a trained spy. Although, you couldn’t figure out why they’d send him, of all people, to help capture you. Such a high-profile person wouldn’t be the best choice for this mission, so he could be telling the truth. However, you couldn’t risk anything yet, so you remained still, staring off in front of you and waiting for more information to be offered.

“How about I talk about what I’m looking for?” Keigo figured it was the best way to break the ice, but you remained silent. You weren’t about to give the supposed-ex pro, the master of interrogation and acquiring information, any opening to wipe out everything you’ve worked for. However, while you stared into the sea of people before you, Hawks took your silence as an invitation to continue. “You probably saw the news. My wings got singed off. It left some pretty nasty scars on my back, and I’d really like to cover them up. I thought it might be cool to use some element of my time… in that line of work to remind me that it was all for a reason.”

Without any indication that you were listening, Keigo assumed he was getting nowhere fast. He knew he shouldn’t be surprised with your aloof demeanor, but he still deflated a bit at the thought that his favorite tattoo artist wouldn’t take him on as a new client. Sure, he could go to someone else, but your work hit different to him. He hoped you would be the one to ink him. However, it didn’t look like that was going to turn out, especially when you casually rose from the bench. Keigo watched you shove your fists in your jacket pockets, expecting you to take your leave. However, he was surprised when he heard your voice in that same monotonous timbre.

“Well?” A beat passed while you continued to gaze a hundred miles in front of you. Keigo’s wide eyes glued themselves to your figure, waiting for his response. However, he remained frozen in his spot. “Aren’t you coming? I’ve gotta get a look at your scars in person to see what I’m working with. My place is only a few blocks from here.”

Even if he was trying to set you up, you decidedit wouldn’t hurt if today was a consultation. Keigo and you could exchange information, and simply chat a bit. Maybe you could weasel some information out of him. Obviously, you were nowhere near the caliber of winged hero Hawks, but you were pretty good at reading people. Besides, he had no reason to deceive you. The piece he wanted was going to cost a pretty penny based off of his description, and the risk was worth the payout. Not to mention, taking a chance on him was an awfully appealing gamble.

His expression of cluelessness morphed into a sparkling grin, yet you still didn’t spare him a glance. Although, the little tug of your lips didn’t go unnoticed by Keigo. He quickly stood while you began walking in the direction of your home studio with the retired hero hot on your heels.

[isitgintimeyet]

Just A Friend

Wow. I’m so, so grateful for the lovely response to chapter 1 of this story. I’ve never had so many notes on one of my posts before, so many, many thanks to everyone who took the time to read, like, reblog and comment on it. i do appreciate it

Thanks also to @wickedgoodbooks for the beta

Previous chapter

AO3

Chapter 2: From Scrubs to Sauvignon

Sunlight streaming through the shutters wakes me before the alarm. After the previous seventy two hours with too much alcohol, not enough sleep and shared hotel rooms, last night’s sleep was a solid nine and a half hours and I feel so much better for it.

Trying, for a moment at least, to ignore both the demands of my bladder and my desperate need for caffeine, I gaze up at the ceiling and contemplate the surgery ahead of me. Whilst it’s a comparatively routine procedure for me, I always think about the families — parents, grandparents, siblings. It’s an anxious time for them, never routine, a step into the unknown and they are putting their trust in me to look after their precious child. Their faith in me is something I take very seriously.

I have a ritual I follow every time before theatre. I take a few minutes to close my eyes and let the procedure play inside my head, my hands echoing the images in my brain. I trace the path my scalpel will take on the skin; I position, in mid air, the locations of the clamps; I work with my imaginary mallet and chisel honing the bone, the X-ray images clear in my head.

By the time I’ve finished closing the incision, the demands of my bladder can no longer be ignored. That’s my cue to get out of bed and start my day.

***********

Before I put my scrubs on, I pay a visit to the side room where Robbie, my seven year old patient has spent the night. His parents have already given consent for the operation, but I like to go and do a final check.

Robbie is sitting up in bed, a bit subdued but in good health. His mother is sitting expectantly, nervously playing with the skin around her nails. The foldaway bed has already been put away, but, judging by her red rimmed eyes, I don’t think it got much use. Robbie’s father follows me into the room, two coffees in his hands.

“Sorry, Doctor Claire,” he nods at the coffee. “I didna get ye one. D’ye want one?”

I let the doctor reference pass. As a surgeon, my title is no longer doctor. Officially, I am Miss Beauchamp, but prefer my juvenile patients to call me Claire. Quite a lot of the parents seem to call me Doctor Claire. I suppose they like the reassurance that I am actually a proper doctor.

“No, thanks.” I smile. “Are we all set then?”

They nod nervously.

“Aye,” Robbie’s father agrees. “We need tae get it done.”

“How long will it take?” Robbie’s mother looks directly at me, wanting a definitive answer.

I hesitate. I don’t like to give precise times. If the surgery goes longer then parents start to fear the worst, and that’s not always the case. So I give a vague answer. “‘Till lunchtime… you could always go and sit outside in the little garden, it’s a lovely day.”

His mother looks down at her hands and shakes her head. “No, I want tae be right here …”

She doesn’t finish her sentence, but she doesn’t have to. I know exactly what she’s thinking.

I turn to Robbie, blissfully unaware of his parents’ thoughts. He beckons me to him.

“When I wakes up,” he begins in a stage whisper. “Can I have a treat?”

“What sort of treat did you have in mind?”

“Can I have a MacDonald’s? But no’ a kid’s meal. I’ve never had a Big Mac.”

I glance at his parents who nod at me before I whisper back, “Of course you can, but don’t let nurse Geillis see, will you? She can be ever so naughty. She’ll be trying to steal your chips away, if you’re not careful.”

And with that, I stroke Robbie’s little cheek before saying my goodbyes and head out to get changed.

**********

Robbie’s surgery went to plan, no nasty surprises or tricky complications. I call in to check on Robbie’s parents before they head to recovery. They look totally different to when I saw them this morning. Still worn out of course, I don’t think they’ll sleep properly until their little lad is home with them, but their faces shine with sheer relief. I have warned them about the long road ahead, with many hours of physiotherapy and exercises, but, for today, I’ll let them have their moment of pure happiness. Reality will hit them again soon enough.

As I leave the waiting room, making my farewells, Robbie’s dad thanks me once more. I can tell he’s unsure whether hugging me is appropriate or not, so he settles for a handshake. His wife has no such qualms, wrapping me tightly in a hug, whispering her thanks until her husband reminds her that they need to be with their son. I point the way and head down to the nurses station.

Geillis is sitting there, looking very busy on the computer. I pull up a chair and sit next to her. The screen is filled with images of our weekend in Barcelona.

“What?” She looks at me as if I’ve accused her of something. “I’m on ma lunch, aren’t I?”

“How was your night then?”

Geillis beams from ear to ear— she’s like the cat who got the cream. “Nay bad, nay bad at all. After two nights away, Dougal realises what he’s got wi’ me, and he dinna hesitate tae show me, if ye ken what I mean?”

She winks at a poor medical student, who blushes and busies himself with a set of medical notes.

“Geillis,” I warn. “Behave yourself.”

“Anyway, pet, how was yer evening? Another tryst wi’ Professor Randall?” Her face says it all. Geillis thinks about as much of Frank as he does of her. Literally the only thing they have in common is me, and it’s getting pretty wearing.

“No, I was worn out and— oh, that reminds me.” I fumble in my pocket for my phone as I carry on talking. “I’ve got someone else’s suitcase. I hope they’ve got mine.”

I glance at the screen. Two missed calls and one message. All from the same number. All from the number I called last night, the James-Fraser-isn’t-here-don’t-call-again-ever number. Looks like this James Fraser has a jealous or suspicious wife-partner-girlfriend-housekeeper.

“Catch up later, Geillis, I need to deal with this.”

I rush back to my office to try and sort the suitcase problem out.

The message is brief and to the point.

Hi, Jamie Fraser here. I think I have your case too. Can we arrange a swap? I live in Glasgow. Hopefully you too. Where and when? I’m free after 5 today.

After five will work for me too, I just need to pop home and pick up his case. Now, based on his wardrobe choices and his one message to me, he doesn’t actually seem like an axe murderer or sex pervert, but you can’t really tell, so I think about a public location.

How about the benches by the cafe at Kelvingrove Park? 5:30? Claire Beauchamp

A couple of minutes later his reply appears on my screen.

Fine. See you then.  I’ll be the one wheeling a black Samsonite. JF

**************

It’s another glorious sunny day here in Glasgow. Just ideal for going for a stroll in the park. I do feel a bit conspicuous with a suitcase trailing along behind me — kind of like an upmarket bag lady.

There are no other suitcases around, so I perch on a bench. I fire a quick message to Geillis, just so that she knows where to direct the police if I disappear and then wait. It’s not too bad waiting. The sun is still warm, so I stretch my legs out trying for a tan. With my eyes closed, I lift my face up to soak up the rays. I may get panda eyes with my sunglasses on, but I don’t really care. The warmth is so good and I can feel myself relaxing totally —

“Ahem.”

I am conscious of a shadow across my face. I open my eyes and quickly stand up.

He’s tall. That’s the first thing I notice. A good few inches taller than me, and I’m 5 feet 9. And broad. Broad enough to block my sun. His hair is red, very red and the sun behind him creates a fiery corona around his head.

He’s a Viking. A Viking in a navy blue suit and a crisp white shirt. How many of those white shirts does he own, I wonder?

“Claire Beauchamp, I presume. I recognise the case. That red ribbon on the handle, such a unique idea.”

He smiles, a lopsided half grin and holds out his hand for me to shake. “Jamie Fraser.”

“Claire Beauchamp,” I say somewhat unnecessarily as we shake hands.

He sits down. “So,” he begins politely. “I hope ye havena come far out of yer way.”

I join him on the bench.

“No,” I gesture vaguely to my right. “I live not too far from here. How about you?”

That lopsided grin appears again. “Nah,” he gestures to his left. “No’ too far at all.”

There’s an awkward moment of silence. We are not really here for small talk, but is it too rude to just dive in and do the swap?

“So,” Jamie breaks the silence. “About the cases…”

Apparently it’s not too rude.

“I ken ye have ma case there, on account of ma contact details being in it, but what about this one? How do I ken this is yers? Black Samsonites with wee red ribbons seem to be awfa common ‘round here. As proof, can ye mebbe tell me something that’s in it? Something identifiable?”

And at this, my mind goes blank, what did I pack?

“Er, denim shorts… black flip flops… white vest—”

“Weel, they’re all verra common. Is there anything a wee bit more… unique?”

Is it my imagination or is there a twinkle in his clear blue eyes as he says this? And then I remember exactly what’s in my case and start to blush.

“There may be some hen party bits and pieces in there too. It was my friend’s hen weekend, so I think there may be some, er, stuff from that, you know, er, handcuffs… shot glasses…”

He puts me out of my misery. “Och, that’s fine. It’s yers, right enough. Here ye go.”

And we do the exchange, just like in the spy movies. Except in those, the cases are filled with bank notes and the top secret blueprints for a submarine base, and not white dress shirts and an assortment of shot glasses shaped like penises.

Our phones beep practically simultaneously. I pull mine out of my pocket. Jamie does the same and glances at his phone.

Mine is a text from Frank confirming tonight’s arrangements “I’d better go. Plans for tonight, you know.”

“Snap. Plans here as well.”

“Goodbye then. I’m not sure whose fault it was, the mixup at the airport. So why don’t we both say sorry, or neither of us?” I suggest as I stand up and smooth the creases from my skirt.

“Sounds good tae me. How about neither?” He smiles again. “Ms Claire Beauchamp, nice to meet you.”

“Mr Jamie Fraser, likewise I’m sure.”

And with that we head off, me to the right and Jamie Fraser to the left.

************

Frank had said 7:30, and, sure enough, at 7:28 my intercom buzzes and I let Frank in. He arrives at my door carrying a large bunch of lilies and roses. No, not a bunch, I can’t describe it as a bunch… carrying a large bouquet of lilies and roses, beautifully arranged and hand-tied. Clearly not a supermarket purchase. Nor is the wine he also hands to me. A chilled bottle of my favourite Sauvignon Blanc, only available from quality wine merchants in the city.

Frank can be incredibly thoughtful and generous, and I am suitably grateful. I pop the flowers into the kitchen sink while I try to locate a vase big enough to hold them.  He walks in as I’m scrabbling around on my hands and knees, bum in the air, head buried in the cupboard under the sink.

“So what are we having for dinner?” He asks as he pours the wine. “Are you cooking?”

I emerge victorious, having found the vase wedged between a bottle of sink unblocker and an unused can of spray starch.

“Sorry?”

“Dinner?” He repeats, helping me to my feet.

“I’ve not had a chance to cook. I told you about the suitcase confusion, didn’t I?  Well, I had to get that sorted. I thought we could have something delivered. That’s ok, isn’t it?”

“I’m sure that will be fine, darling. What would you like?”

What would I like? What I would really like would be a huge, great pizza full of carbs and grease and pepperoni and cheese that pulls into strands when you try to take a slice. And to sit on the floor with the pizza box between us watching Netflix and drinking beer.

But, that is clearly a rhetorical question.

“Thai?” Frank doesn’t wait for my answer.

Thai is the only acceptable takeaway in Frank’s eyes, eaten at a table, on proper plates. I nod my agreement. After all, he’s brought me wonderful flowers, and a gorgeous bottle of wine. He deserves to have the choice. And I can have pizza with my friends any time.

“You ring the order through then, while I arrange these beautiful flowers.” I say and kiss his cheek.

And that is our evening sorted - takeaway, a couple of glasses of wine, Newsnight on the television and then to bed for a bit of sex.

So, that’s food, drink, mind and body all sorted. I should go to sleep feeling satisfied with everything. I should… shouldn’t I?

[ahgastae]

worst chefs in seoul (outline) – kim seokjin x gn!reader

➥ word count: 3.9k | reality/cooking show au | crack | fluff

➥ m.list

➥ a/n: we’re back at it again with another wip i never finished lol. this one is the outline for what was intended to be a social media au (as evidenced by some of the notes i left for myself), though it’s likely that’s not how it actually would’ve come out. i’d love to hear some of your thoughts/reactions, and i hope you enjoy ♡

day ???

start w y/n and yoongi goofing off on twitter

the whole y/n eating a moldy grape thinking it’s a kiwi thing

and yoongi panicking bc of it

could transition into them talking about the finale episode of their favorite show: worst chefs in seoul

they’re both huge fans, and equally complete disasters when it comes to culinary skill

yoongi likes the show bc he likes the competition aspect and tbh he got addicted after y/n forced him to watch the first season w them

y/n also likes it for that reason, but the main reason they watch it is bc of a certain kim seokjin

anyway, they talk about the finale, and then yoongi says something about the next season’s ‘nominations’ coming up soon

y/n jokingly says they’re going to nominate yoongi bc of that one time he made tacos with dog food

and yoongi fires back w the time they managed to light the microwave on fire making cup o’ noodles

they agree to let each other live

…..for now

sike!

the two actually do end up nominating each other w/o the other knowing

y/n honestly just thought it would be funny if yoongi got picked and yoongi was like “fuck it why not”

little did they know…..

while the nomination guidelines assure that the selection process is completely random, this is a reality show

meaning for anyone w a brain that’s obviously not the case

contestants are actually chosen by the show’s assistant producers and approved by the chefs themselves and then the higher ups

but who are those assistant producers??

none other than park jimin and kim taehyung

neither of them keep their involvement with the show a secret, and one takes it a teensy bit more seriously than the other

anyway, they’re usually told to find a batch of contestants (that they feel) would conjure up the most drama for the show

it is tv, after all, and they have to keep people watching

and that part is crucial

to their credit, they do (somewhat) succeed for the most part

jimin selects yoongi and namjoon from the nomination pool bc he thinks joon’s clumsiness w yoongi’s nonchalant nature will work for max chaos

and taehyung chooses y/n and jungkook bc while their competitive drives are similar, y/n’s subdued nature has a big chance for conflict w jk’s out-there attitude

(how do they know all this? they’re experts at what they do leave me alone)

day ??? 2.0

y/n (and yoongi, secretly) is ecstatic when they get the emails/DM/whatever that they’ve been “chosen for the next hot season of worst chefs in seoul!”

but then yoongi asks if it’s allowed for them to know each other and accept the nomination

like they’re best friends. is that going to present some kinda problem that’ll get them both kicked off??

should only one of them accept it?

(he’s immediately ready to sacrifice his own nomination bc he knows how much y/n cares about this stupid show)

y/n says they’re not going to let him do that bc they were both chosen, meaning they both should get to go

but—

“it’s fine!! we can just pretend we don’t know each other when we’re on set!”

and so they’re off

to some undisclosed location in seoul

day 0

jimin and taehyung are the first to greet everyone, collecting all four contestants together for a tour of the dorms

and y/n starts texting yoongi in a panic bc both of their dumbasses forgot that the contestants are separated into teams as soon as they arrive

yoongi prolly says smth like i’m two feet away from you why are you texting me

(y/n reminds him they can’t make it seem like they know each other)

yoongi acts like it’s not that big of a deal

prolly says there’s a good chance they’ll end up on the same team

and if they don’t they can just hang out in the dorms when the cameras are off and away

which is when jimin loudly announces that this season, each team is getting their own dormitory

and that contestants will be required to stay in their dorm while filming the season, except for approved ‘outings’ for the show

he moves on before anyone can ask what that means

they’ll be allowed to pick whichever dorm they want to stay in for the first night, since they want to get the contestants’ reactions on camera when they reveal the teams

but after they’re revealed tomorrow, it’s your dorm and your dorm only

y/n and yoongi automatically gravitate towards each other

they end up together in the ‘new’ dorm, which yoongi grumpily notes is practically bigger than their whole apartment

y/n wonders if they ended up in seokjin’s dorm, and gets excited at the thought of this being a ‘test’ to see which chef’s team they’ll be on

to which yoongi asks what makes this dorm his?

“idk i just...feel his aura in here”

“.......okay, weirdo. i’m gonna go ‘feel his aura’ in the bathroom and take a—”

“yoongi!!”

y/n can either ask what yoongi thinks of the other contestants or they can both pretty much blow them off entirely for the time being

idk which yet

day 1

next morning, the contestants are woken up bright and early by none other than our favorite assistant producers

the wake up call comes in the form of a new group chat between the six of them

along with a link to ‘download’ the calendar for the shooting schedule

(which is really an app/virus that disables certain functions on their phones)

((such as most social media and texting numbers outside their ‘parameters’))

after that’s all hashed out, jm & t explain that this group chat is for any and all notifications and updates about the show, as well as any questions and/or concerns the contestants might have

like

“can i just vote to eliminate myself now and go home?” and

“how do i get this fucking thing off my phone” and

“when do we find out what team we’re on??”

the answers to which are

no

you’ll find out when filming is finished

and right now!

they tell the contestants to get up and get dressed as their first day on set officially starts now

y/n and kook immediately jump into action and leave the gc

joon lags behind a little confused but follows the flow

yoongi, ever the people person, gets aggressive when they don’t answer his questions about their goddamn malware

“is this even legal?? are you even fucking allowed to just disable our devices like this?”

“what if there’s an emergency??”

“looks like you’ll just have to find out, huh?”

yoongi’s phone then crashes and won’t let him unlock it until the first block of filming is finished

jm: “oops ƪ(˘⌣˘)ʃ”

day 1 recap

we find out through our superfan what happens during the first episode

(maybe do something like this person is some kinda press/‘news’ account dedicated entirely to w.c.i.s. and the two chefs)

((mayhaps they leak the contestant list before it goes public??))

((jimin and tae could have some kinda unspoken rivalry w them lol))

anyway the story is told through them in a series of twitter threads

(plus a few messages from y/n to yoongi freaking out about the teams they get put on)

first event of the day is: the team announcements

yoongi and joon end up on team kim seokjin and y/n is on team jyp w kook

being split up puts a bit of a damper on their plans, and with this stupid cell block they don’t know if they’ll even be allowed to talk to each other

none of them get much time to react, though, as they’re then shuffled off to their respective kitchens

where they finally meet their respective chefs

and, lo and behold, y/n is goddamn terrified

jinyoung is even scarier in person than he is on tv

“don’t laugh at me yoongi!! this is the guy who made a girl sob on live television!”

“and now ur gonna be the next person what’s the problem lmao”

while y/n tries to get past their fear, they’re given their first official task: work together with their new partner to create a meal of their choice

the catch is that they aren’t allowed any help from their chef yet

and since the teams were just announced literally like 10 minutes ago, none of them have had much of a chance to get to know each other

(the network knows this, and does this on purpose since most of the seasons’ first episodes are spent either arguing or being completely lost)

things go about as well (read: badly) as expected

y/n and kook soon discover their very conflicting personalities and spend the majority of the round bickering back and forth about what to make/how to do it

meanwhile yoongi slaps a piece of sliced cheese directly on the stove while joon runs around like a chicken w its head cut off

in the end, team jyp somehow manages to come out victorious

they cobble together some (semi) edible banana milkshakes to present to the judges

(‘together’ meaning y/n wanted to make plain vanilla milkshakes and kook switched it for banana milk when they weren’t looking)

yoongi and joon tried (keyword being tried) to make grilled cheese

but between yoongi’s cheese-to-stove method and joon dropping their two pieces of burnt toast right before the timer rang

they didn’t get many points

as their reward, team jyp has the honor of picking what they’ll be making tomorrow

they’re given the rest of the day to think and talk it over while team ksj is told to reflect on what went wrong in today’s trial

back at the dorms (now in their separate teams), y/n finds that yoongi finally graces them w a response

(and that they were right about which one was ‘seokjin’s’ dorm)

yoongi tells them about ‘that little shit’ locking him out of his phone and that he honestly just wants to get tf out of there contract or not

y/n convinces him to stay and stick it out, if not for them then for the prize money at the end

yoongi then asks what dish they’re going to pick for tomorrow, and asks if they can pick something he at least has an idea how to make

cue y/n saying that they were thinking of suggesting one of seokjin’s signature dishes but not knowing if kook would go along w the idea

“he kept trying to switch out our ingredients for banana milk and i don’t know how to tell him to knock that shit off”

“honestly you know i’m not one to take charge but he wasn’t even listening to me!! what’s to say he’s actually going to listen to the PROFESSIONAL chef here to help us??”

“aNd SPeAkINg oF THaT”

cue y/n whining about how they wanted to be on jin’s team and it’s not fair that they both got stuck w jinyoung AND a bratty kid on their team

yoongi sympathizes since he was looking forward to them being on the same team, but makes y/n agree that if he has to give the competition a chance then they have to give kook one too

“i mean yeah he seems like a bit of a dumbass but isn’t that why we’re all here? bc we have no fuckin clue what to do in the kitchen?”

hmm...fine they’ll give him a chance

but they still think he’s a lil shit and don’t really wanna talk to him at all, let alone reach some kinda compromise on what to make

they don’t get much or a choice, though, as they both receive a mysterious message from...jungkook? in another group chat?

the contestants find that they have all been manually added to another gc

except this one is missing the two assistant producers who love to breathe down their necks

everyone but jk is immediately suspicious

is this some of trick to get them to screw up?

to break some kinda hidden clause in the contract none of them actually read?

wasn’t that thing they downloaded supposed to block incoming messages like this?

“but wait, yoongi, then how were we able to…?”

but as of right now, they don’t get any answers

and they’re all too afraid to ask anyone but each other

“well we’re all here so...we might as well get to know each other right?? :D”

this is where we get our first in-depth look at the four people stuck on this show together, who in their lives nominated them and why

(y/n and yoongi’s lying skills are put to a bit of a test as they each rush to pull stories right out of their asses)

kook talks about bambam and says his nomination said smth about “adding banana milk to everything f*ckin thing he makes”

he doesn’t really get why that was enough to land him a spot on the show but he thought it would be pretty cool to be on tv and just went along with it

namjoon talks about hobi and emphasizes that he’s not that bad of a cook

he just gets nervous and confused when it comes to recipes and cooking which expresses itself in the form of his unabashed clumsiness

joon then asks if they’ll really be prevented from having any outside communication until filming is finished

he, like yoongi, questions the legality of deceitfully installing the block on their phones

y/n says there probably was some kind of hidden clause that allowed them to do that, as they “can’t imagine seokjin would take part in a competition that abuses its contestants”

to which joon replies that they don’t actually know seokjin so they can’t really ‘imagine’ anything about how he will or won’t act

right as yoongi is about to jump in and tell him to back off, jungkook decides that that’s way too much legal talk for him

he forces changes the subject back to the gc as a whole and says that even if they’re prevented from talking to their friends he’s happy they’ll “at least have each other :D”

y/n feels like part of that is directed at them and feels bad for how they thought he was ‘just a dumb kid’ before

namjoon, however, is still hesitant

he’s not sure if this chat could get them in trouble in regards to the show and their contract and what not and says that they all should probably delete it just to be safe

but that is unanimously vetoed by y/n and kook (and yoongi, reluctantly) and they decide that if the block allowed it to pass through then it must be allowed

before joon can argue anymore, they all receive a message from tae in the ‘official’ gc

he briefly explains the lights out policy of the dorms and tells them that they’re probably going to want a good night's sleep for their ‘big day’ tomorrow

yoongi then says smth like “well...guess that’s lights out then” and jk responds excited as ever w “night guys!! see you all in the morning! :)”

and y/n can feel their soul leaving their body for even thinking anything ill about him

day 2

contestants are woken up bright and early by alarms they didn’t set

(“oh great, so they just hijacked every app on our fucking phones then”

jimin tells them all to hurry up, get dressed, and meet the chauffeur outside bc they can’t afford to be late

(“literally! every second you waste is money docked from the network’s wallet! so get your asses in gear, guppies!”)

y/n and kook get outside first, but yoongi and joon are nowhere to be seen

y/n decides to text the q & a gc to get the dirt on seokjin

they kinda start sucking up to jimin and tae to see if they’ll reveal any info, particularly about what the chef is like and if it’s possible for him to talk to the ‘other’ team’s contestants

and while the producers are pleasantly surprised that one of the contestants actually want to use that gc for something other than yelling at them

they unfortunately can’t give much info besides what most people already know

and confirm that one of the chefs talking to the other’s students was probably not allowed, but that it’s also never really happened before so they’re not really sure lmao

(“taehyung!!” “what? was i not supposed to say that?”)

jimin cuts the conversation short there as yoongi and joon arrive and they all get on the shuttle for the set

taehyung does say one last thing tho

“good luck!! hopefully they don’t tear u up too bad!”

but first

our superfan gives us the downlow on the competition and how it works

after being split into teams, the contestants will rotate between ‘training’ w their chef and competing against each other in timed trial rounds

prizes can be won for both events, but the ones for the trial rounds are generally more competition based while the ones for the training rounds are more about luxury/quality of life while filming

each trial round win counts as a point towards the team’s score in the competition

only trial rounds affect this score

once a certain number of points has been reached (5), that team moves into the next phase of the competition

instead of working as a team, they are split up and now have to work against each other to win the favor of their chef

and in the finale, after one last big cookout competition, an individual winner is chosen and crowned a ‘former’ worst chef in seoul

once the contestants arrive on set, the chefs reiterate that today is just a training round

(they all let out a collective sigh of relief)

and it’s a good thing everyone woke up so early bc they’re just in time to learn how to make breakfast!!

“it’s not like we had much of a choice-oof.”

“anyway! team jyp, since you won the pretrial round yesterday, you get to decide what both teams will be learning how to make today. so, y/n, jungkook. think carefully. what do you want for breakfast?”

y/n is about to suggest seokjin’s signature strawberry and cream crepes when jungkook, who is still half asleep, blurts out “omelette”

(also i’ve decided that jackson is the host of the show now and i’m not changing my mind)

and it’s decided. they’re makin’ omelettes

(y/n is only a little bit peeved)

shuffled off to their separate kitchens, y/n is reminded of just how terrified they are of jinyoung

sure, they thought he was scary yesterday when they realized they were on his team, but now he has to actually teach them and they can’t help but think he’s going to make them into an idiot sandwich by the end of the day

as such, they try to keep half-asleep kook in between them and jinyoung at all costs, even if it meant running around the kitchen like a lost puppy

jinyoung, fully aware of how the show portrays him and how fans view him, notices this almost instantaneously

but he unfortunately doesn’t get to pull y/n aside to address it before jungkook starts digging through the fridge for banana milk and almost throws the entire carton of eggs on the floor

professional chef jyp mode: on

and they’re off

it’s a little difficult with y/n dancing around the kitchen anxiously and jungkook’s absolute aversion to being told what to do (as y/n predicted), but jinyoung manages to whip them into shape long enough to (barely) make a ham, cheese, and “green onion? wtf is that?” omelette

team seokjin, however, does not favor as well

yoongi apparently doesn’t know what tf a green onion is either and just throws in whatever green vegetable he can find while jin is struggling to keep namjoon from setting himself on fire

….and it turned out to be celery

that, plus joon somehow managing to burn the omelette to a crisp, costs them the training round

y/n and kook start to celebrate their victory and actually working as a team when jackson informs them that their ‘prize’ is they get to eat what they cooked while the other team gets whatever is left over on the catering table

“i hope you listened to your chef!”

“...jungkook, please tell me you used actual milk in this”

“um…”

back at the dorms, the contestants share their thoughts on their first day of training, as well as their first official day w their chefs

(also include y/n saying something about their banana milk omelettes actually not being half bad)

y/n immediately recalls how much they were terrified of jinyoung, almost cutting their finger off when he glanced over their shoulder when they were slicing the green onions

jk agrees, adding smth about how he didn’t think a scowl could ever be so intimidating

“it reminded me of my mom’s face when she found out i tried to pierce my own ears in the bathroom in middle school!! i was too afraid to push the needle all the way through and walked around with it in my ear all day until one of my teachers finally noticed and sent me to the office!”

...ok jungkook

during all of this, yoongi and joon are both like...wtf

“seokjin was literally nothing but nice to us. even when namjoon almost set his sleeve on fire lmao”

“hyung how did u manage that” “doesn’t matter”

jungkook thinks the difference in the chefs is hilarious, but y/n is only upsetti spaghetti

they go on a bit of a rant about how badly they wanted to be on jin’s team

saying something about how jinyoung is scary and mean and they’re almost positive he can sense their fear or something and probably use it against them while jin’s team would be so much better on the sole fact that they wouldn’t feel like he would turn them into an omelette for getting something wrong

cue jk being all babey asking “you...don’t wanna be on a team with me? :((“

and y/n immediately PANICS and tries to explain that NO, it’s not HIM but yoongi saves their ass by saying that seokjin is just their favorite and that’s all

jungkook feels better, but then namjoon is like “hol up. we all just met. how could you possibly know that?”

insert more y/n fumbling and jk confusion

yoongi (once again) covers w some bullshit story that he was able to just guess that based on what y/n’s said in the gc so far

joon wants to question it further, but jungkook informs them that the lights out call just came in before he can

another yoony/n sigh of relief

in private, y/n freaks out to yoongi for almost blowing their cover to the others

prompting a short conversation over whether they think they can trust them or not

y/n admits that they’re warming up to kook, but is a little suspicious if namjoon will keep their secret yet

convo ends with yoongi saying something like “well, the kid’s right about one thing. at least we know we have each other”

end.

[songtoyou]

Chapter Three: Don’t Then

Paring: Ransom Drysdale x Fabiola Rossi (OC)

Story Rating: This story will mostly be rated 18+ as it is revolves around a relationship that is Dominant/submissive. For each chapter, I will do my best to rate it accordingly, but please know that the overall story will have very adult themes.

Chapter Rating: Rated R.

Warnings: Swearing, BDSM themes, public hand job.

Word Count: 3,019

Story Summary: Huge “Ransom” Drysdale always thought of himself as a powerful man. With his family’s money and status, Ransom could get away with anything. He had the power and control others would envy. Ransom could get any woman he wanted with a snap of his fingers. He was always in charge. He commanded attention. And he hated it. Never having a job in his life (thanks to his mother, father, and grandfather always there to supplement his bank account) or any real-life goals, Ransom felt incomplete and directionless. That is until Fabiola Rossi entered his life and turned it completely upside down.

Chapter summary: Fabiola and Ransom go on their first date. They are having a good time until someone stops by to ruin the evening. 

A/N: It has literally been a year since I have updated this story. I apologize about that and hope to not take as long for the next chapter.

Bold font indicates text messaging.

I do not permit any of my fics to be distributed on other sites without my permission.

Taglist:  @winchwm, @patzammit​

With any sexual partner, it is vital to maintain the separation of fantasy and reality. Sexual activities deemed “kinky” do not always result in instant gratification moments like movies, books, and television tend to show. Many considerations need to be involved when partaking in the acts of BDSM, such as personal feelings and possible risks. It is crucial for the Dominant to not put his or her Submissive in any uncomfortable scenarios and vice versa. BDSM interactions need to be steeped in solid communication, along with the collaboration of willingness to take personal responsibility for one’s actions and choices.

For Fabiola, she was determined to make sure that Ransom understands the essential aspects of BDSM interactions. Since he was new to BDSM, particularly as a submissive, it was her duty to help guide him throughout this unique experience. It was a responsibility that Fabiola never took for granted when it came to being a Domme. It was her duty to protect and guide her Subs when playing a scene. She loved being a Domme.

Currently, Fabiola was standing beside her closet, picking our different outfits to see what would look best for tonight. She wanted something casual and nothing too fancy. So, Fabiola opted for her dark red bandage dress with strappy side cutouts, a halter neck, and an open back with zipper closure that flattered her figure. She accompanied the dress with a black bicker chic crop jacket. Fabiola adorned the ensemble with black peep-toe ankle boots with lace embroidery and buckles, along with a black clutch. Her long hair was curled to cascade down her shoulders in waves, with red lips and dark eyeliner highlighting her facial features.

Fabiola instructed Ransom to pick her up at 8:00 PM at her apartment, and not a minute over. One thing she wanted to do was implement structure and consistency with Ransom. She desired to get him in the habit of being responsible and taking accountability. Fabiola figured that was the best place to start.

As Fabiola finished up getting ready, she heard her cellphone buzz. Thinking it was Ransom, she quickly reached for the device only to deflate. It wasn’t Ransom.

Jonathan: I need to see you. I can’t stop thinking about you, Fabiola. Please give me another chance.

Fabiola let out a frustrated groan when she read the message. Jonathan was her former boyfriend/submissive who appeared not to get the hint that things with them were over. The guy was too clingy for Fabiola to handle. He always wanted to be around her. He wanted more than what she was able to give him.

Fabiola: I can’t talk right now. I’m busy. 

Jonathan: Please! I need you!

Fabiola: NO! I told you that what we had is over. Now stop contacting me!

With a sigh, Fabiola put her phone in her clutch. ‘If you don’t want him to contact you, then block his number,’ Fabiola’s inner voice scolded her.

It wasn’t like Fabiola hadn’t thought about it. However, there was a part of her that couldn’t do it. She liked Jonathan. He was special to her. And some part of Fabiola still felt responsible for him.

She took out her phone and brought up the message chain.

Fabiola: Jonathan, I’m sorry. Look, I really can’t talk right now. How about tomorrow?

‘You’re an enabler!’ her inner voice yelled.

Jonathan: Yes! Thank you! Talk to you tomorrow, sweetheart. 😊

Fabiola rolled her eyes.

Thankfully, she didn’t have to stew over Jonathan’s messages for too long when the doorbell rang. She looked at the time, which read eight o’clock. She opened the door, and there was Ransom dressed to perfection. He wore all black from his jacket, shirt, slacks, and shoes. Very casual but still sophisticated. Fabiola could only guess Ransom’s clothes’ cost, which she knew each piece had to have been from a top designer.

“Hi,” Fabiola greeted. “You’re right on time.”

“I figured you’d count it against me if I didn’t,” Ransom confessed. He looked Fabiola up and down. “You look outstanding.”

“Thank you. So do you,” Fabiola complimented and walked out of her apartment to lock it up. 

Ransom offered Fabiola his arm, which she took, and walked her to his car. He would show that he could be a perfect gentleman since he was the one who recommended they go out for the night before returning to her place.

He wanted to relax but also show Fabiola a good time. Wining and dining women was one of Ransom’s specialties.

“So, where are we going?” Fabiola implored as she looked over at the man next to her.

“I figured I would take you to Yvonne’s. It’s a restaurant and bar. Nice atmosphere. Cool décor. You ever been?”

“No, never been,” she answered.

“I think you’ll like it.”

The remaining drive to the restaurant was quiet. It was as if neither knew what to bring up to start a conversation, which was not surprising. Ransom and Fabiola still didn’t know much about one another.

“How is your writing coming along since we last saw each other?” Fabiola probed as the quietness was getting to her. She figured asking Ransom about his writing was the safest conversation starter.

“Uh,” Ransom began as he steered his car through traffic. “It is…well, to be honest, I’m kind of stuck. I don’t know where to take the story next.”

Fabiola nodded in understanding. “Writer’s block. All too common. You know, some writers have shared with me how they combat writer’s block. You want to hear?”

“All ears.”

“Do you ever develop a list of favorite things your characters like, such as food, music, television shows, all that stuff? A writer told me they did that to help flesh out characters. That way, it helped to steer them where they needed to go within the story. Another writer told me that they would write one-shots where a character would do something different outside of the overall story. That way, you’re still getting your creative writing juices flowing instead of stewing and feeling bad about yourself for not writing,” Fabiola advised.

In all honesty, Ransom appreciated the advice. He was not used to kindness from another person who did not appear to want anything from him, at least not regarding his money or status. With Fabiola, he could tell that she was genuine with her advice offering.

After another fifteen minutes of mindless chitchat, Ransom pulled into a parking lot. He put the car in park and got out. Ransom hurried to the passenger door to help Fabiola out of the car, but she got out before he could open the door for her. 

“I’m sorry,” Fabiola giggled. “I never know if a guy is going to do that or not. I’ll let you open the door for me next time.”

With a chuckle, Ransom offered his arm once again and guided his date to the restaurant. Ransom was not kidding when he said that Yvonne’s décor was “cool.” Heck, it was more than that; it was fabulous. For Fabiola, it looked like gothic Alice in Wonderland, with its bookcases, elegant chandeliers, and other abstract lighting and art along the walls. Fabiola mainly got a kick out of the numerous skulls outlining the front of the bar.

“This place is amazing,” she gushed to Ransom.

“I had a feeling you would,” he smiled at her. Ransom was happy he was able to do something right.

They were greeted by the hostess and then escorted to their reserved table. 

“I’m so tempted to go up to those bookshelves and check out what they got,” Fabiola raved as she continued to take in her surroundings. 

Ransom tried to hold back his smile as he watched Fabiola. She looked like a kid in a candy store. He couldn’t fathom how this beautiful before him was a domme when she had the sweetest and, at times, goofy disposition. Fabiola was just who she was, carefree. Or at least that is what she presented on the outside. He wondered if she had any skeletons in her closet. 

He put down the wine/cocktail menu and leaned his arms on the table. “Tell me something, Ms. Rossi,” he began, “What makes you…tick?”

She quirked one of her perfectly tweezed eyebrows at Ransom, “What do you mean?”

“Like, what drives you crazy? What annoys you?”

“Oh, that is easy. The answer to that is stupid people. I have an extremely low tolerance to people who willingly choose to be ignorant,” she answered and grabbed the wine/cocktail menu. “What about you?”

“My family. They are the worst. You’d hate them for sure. But I won’t spoil the evening talking about them.”

“How about we order drinks,” Fabiola suggested as she continued to look at the drink menu. “Help us relax more, eh. What’s monkey shoulder?” she asked Ransom as she pointed to the drink that was called ‘Monkeys In A Pear Tree’ that had monkey shoulder, spiced pear, vanilla, almond, and orange bitters.

“It’s a blended malt scotch whiskey. It’s rather good. You should try it. Not with all that other shit in the drink, just the whiskey.”

“Yeah, I don’t need all that sugar. And I’m not a whiskey girl, unfortunately. I think I’ll go with a glass of wine,” Raina pointed out.

Ransom took the list back and perused the assortments of wine offerings. “How about I get us a bottle. Red or white?”

“Let’s go with red. You pick.”

Waving a waiter over, Ransom ordered a bottle of the red 2017 Syrah. It was a good wine. Not too sweet, but not too “woody” tasting as some would describe certain red wines. With their glasses filled, both opted to go for the shareable plate items—nothing too heavy, just enough to satisfy their stomachs. 

While they waited, Fabiola scooted her chair closer to Ransom. They were seated at a corner table with dim lighting. No one would be able to see what Fabiola was about to do. She placed one of her manicured hands on his thigh. Fabiola began to move her hand up and down. As Fabiola trailed her hand higher up Ransom’s thigh, she watched his face for any reaction that she should stop. When she didn’t see any hesitation from him, she rested her hand against the bulge in his pants. Fabiola squeezed it, and Ransom almost jumped from his seat. 

Ransom felt Fabiola begin to unbuckle his belt and lower the zipper. He looked around the restaurant to make sure no one was looking over at their table. Fabiola let out a little chuckle.

“Do you want me to stop?” she asked him.

He shook his head ‘no.’ “I need you to voice it, Baby Hughie,” Fabiola ordered him in a low voice while she continued to rub him out. He stirred in his seat as she slipped a hand under his briefs.

“Don’t stop,” Ransom managed to breathe out. His cock was almost rock hard.

Fabiola continued to stroke him. Back and forth. Nice and slow. Agonizingly slow. Ransom began to move his hips to try to increase the friction against his cock. 

“Look at you. So needy. You want to cum, don’t you? Is that what you want? You want to cum in a public setting, Baby Hughie?” teased Fabiola as she leaned over and began to kiss Ransom from his neck to his ear. “I want to see how long I can tease you before you eventually beg me to let you cum.”

Even when the waiter brought their food (who was oblivious to what was going on under the table), Fabiola did not remove her hand from Ransom’s pants. She ate her food with her other hand while she continued to stroke his cock with the other. Sometimes Fabiola would bring her fork to Ransom’s mouth so he would eat when she noticed he was barely touching his food. 

When Ransom felt a thumb rub his tip, he let out a low groan. “I need to cum,” he whispered through clenched teeth.

“I know you do, but I’m not going to allow it,” was all Fabiola said and continued to eat her food. 

It was only when she was finished eating that she stopped stroking Ransom’s cock and removed her hand from his pants. She assisted in zipping and buckling Ransom back up to make sure he looked presentable. Fabiola stood up from the table. She handed Ransom one of the clean napkins. “Wipe the sweat from your forehead and drink some water. I’m going to go wash my hands.” 

As Ransom watched Fabiola’s retreating form, he leaned back in his chair and let out a loud sigh. Reaching for his wine glass, he downed the contact in one gulp and poured himself another. Ransom squeezed his own junk as it was still hard. He began to think about other things to stifle the hardness. ‘Family reunions. Aunt Joni in a bathing suit. Grandma in a bathing suit.’ Ransom throughout in his head. 

Unsurprisingly, they worked. His stiffened cock was beginning to recede. Gulping down another glass of wine, Ransom poured himself another. He didn’t quite know how to feel at that moment. He was unsatisfied with not being allowed to cum, but also intrigued with how turned he felt. 

The feeling of not being in control was all-new for Ransom. At that moment, it was Fabiola who called the shots. She told him that he was not allowed to cum. He noticed the chastising tone in her voice when she ordered him to wipe off his sweat and drink water. Normally, Ransom would scoff at someone commanding to do things, but there was something incredibly erotic when Fabiola did it. He picked up his napkin and began to wipe off the sweat from his forehead. He drank his water and waited for the woman, who excited and astounded him, to return.  

Unfortunately, Ransom’s euphoria came to a crashing halt when he heard, “Hey, son. What are you doing here?”

Ransom looked up to see his father, Richard Drysdale, standing before him. “What the Hell are you doing here?” Ransom retorted coldly. 

Ignoring his son’s cold tone and icy glare, Richard took it upon himself to take a seat at the table. He began picking the food off of the plates and took Ransom’s glass of wine to sip for himself. 

“You got a date?” Richard probed his son. 

Ransom let out a frustrated groan. He needed to get out of here. “Is mom here as well, or are you with one of your side pieces?” 

Before Richard could reply, Fabiola came back to the table. She was caught off guard by the new addition who was eating their food and drinking their wine. “Sorry I took so long. I got caught up talking to a woman who wanted to know where I purchased my shoes, then we got off tangent, and well…I’m back now. Who is this?”

“No one important,” Ransom replied.

Richard glared at his son but hid his animosity with a laugh. “He’s a kidder that one. Hi, I’m Richard Drysdale. Ransoms’ father,” he introduced himself. Richard stuck his hand out for Fabiola. Which she accepted with the hand that was previously stroking his son’s cock. 

“Fabiola Rossi.”

“Well, aren’t you beautiful,” Richard complimented. Ransom noticed a look in his father’s eyes. He knew that look. It was the look Richard always had when he wanted a woman that was not his wife. 

“Again, I ask, what are you doing here?” Ransom again asked his father.

Richard looked over at the bar with Ransom and Fabiola following suit. They saw Richard wave a young woman who waved back. “I’m here for a business dinner.”

“Bullshit.”

Ransom knew that his father was having an affair. Everyone in the family knew, except for Linda. But that was his mother. She would rather ignore the problems in her marriage and family while pretending everything is perfect. 

“Look, son, I didn’t mean to crash your date. I just stopped by to say ‘hi,’ that is it,” Richard pointed out.

Ransom merely scoffed. “Okay. You said your ‘hi,’ now leave.”

“Actually, Ransom, I think we should start heading out,” Fabiola spoke up while looking around for their waiter.

“I didn’t mean to cut your evening short,” said Richard as he got up from the table. He stood there awkwardly for a few seconds before bidding adieu and going back to his “business dinner.”

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Ransom was more than annoyed; he was fuming. He was ready to blow, and Fabiola could see it. She watched as Ransom pulled out a couple of hundred bills from his wallet and stood up. She stood up as well gathered her jacket and clutch. Following Ransom’s lead out of the restaurant, Fabiola was only a few steps behind him as they walked to the car. He stopped in front passenger door side and turned around. He watched as Fabiola put on her jacket.  Her hair was lightly blowing in the night wind. His father was right; she was beautiful.

Moving towards Fabiola, Ransom ran his hands up and down her arms to help warm her up. “I’m sorry about that,” he said, indicating what happened in the restaurant with his father. “My dad…he isn’t someone I…”

“It’s fine, Ransom. Let’s not have him ruin the rest of our night. You still want to come over, right?”

Ransom leaned his forehead against Fabiola’s before pressing his lips against hers. He didn’t deepen the kiss and retreated after only a couple of seconds. Ransom went back to resting his forehead against Fabiola’s while she stroked his left cheek.

“Tell me what you want?” she asked him.

Ransom looked into her eyes like he was searching for something. He sighed at what felt like the hundredth time that night. “I don’t know what I want. That is the problem. All I do know is that I don’t want to be like him. I don’t want to be my dad.”

Fabiola nodded her head in understanding. “Don’t then.”

[spineofdeathwing]

Ignus Silverdreth

As the tumblr handle implies, I had to make a tumblr to post this. Not to hide my identity, but because I literally don't use tumblr. However this situation has personally escalated to the point that a post needed to be made so here we are. Do remember upon reading, i'm not trying to tell you/anyone what to do. However I think the rp community is one that should look out for one another, and to promote a healthy environment of co-writing and support. Part of that is informing the community when there's a habitual and consistent problem  or a problematic individual who continues to dole out harm oocly. Which is where we begin today with Ignus. I'll provide all the screenshots I have. I have not yet decided while writing this but all screens may go to an imgur album due to the sheer size. This has been a situation that has been taking place over the course of weeks. Months even. I thought to go over it from beginning to end but I'm afraid that would be a post too long and that it wouldn't get red. As a result, here are the finer points and cautionary information. -Ignus took the ic into the ooc and claimed I lied to him about my character when this was profoundly untrue, he has not changed this claim although he did make an attempt to apologize for the behavior, which doesn't mean much when he continued to lie thereafter. He indicated that I never told him about my character's culty vibes which I had done oocly when he and his group first asked and my character himself warned Ignus icly about things. During this time rolls were not taken and I was essentially godmoded until Ignus called for backup from his group and I had a really nice conversation and roll duel with one of them. Ignus being passive aggressive and angry all the while. Removing me from groups and being generally insulting. -When a friend attempted to mediate the situation above, Ignus got incredibly toxic to that friend, being insulting and demeaning to them. Even cutting contact off with them oocly for perceivably having taken my side. during that conversation (screenshots provided) he personally attacked that friend, myself, and another rp partner. -Ignus blocked an officer of another guild for being a male oocly, and has made several disparaging remarks regarding the lgbt community (Names have been removed from those screenshots to preserve identity, as those that informed of as much do not wish retaliation as he is known to be volatile and hostile oocly.) -Ignus has several within his group, Menoside/Tydiz who uses the term 'gay' negatively and disparagingly. As well Ignus has a member in his group Kath, who has previously been removed from a guild for making (Trigger warning) rape jokes. 

-Ignus has been noted to godmode icly. As well as some of his group. He will engage in combat and have his character accept all manner of injury, only to appear ten minutes later as if nothing had happened at all to repeat the process. His method of rp is incredibly disruptive, and there are multiple accounts of others experiencing the godmoding and general meta gaming. I myself experienced this when his rp disrupted my own for aproximately eight hours as I was involved in an arc with his rp and another group, and he would continuously attack then mysteriously heal to full only to attack again, and would send ooc vaguely ominous messages before swarming people with those he's convinced to join.

-Ignus once attempted to approach me regarding these issues, and after I replied to him did not say anything and logged off. He then indicated that I never responded even though I did, and in my response (Screenshot will provide) I indicated I did not want contact with him. When others started to confront him with his behavior he made an effort to reach out to me. I accepted the contact thinking there would be a resolution. I was sorely mistaken. He lied about me not responding and cut his own screenshots off so my response wasn't visible. And during that conversation aside from being hostile and volatile he was more interested in discovering the identity of those that had reached out regarding his transphobic behavior. Making several statements that further lead me to believe he simply wanted to attack those individuals. When I further iterated that I did not want to speak with him and that I had desired not to have contact with him he continued on until the point that I had to block him from Discord. Today he's already began the in game harrassment by throwing some manner of fruit/vegetable at me. I'm unfamiliar with the item.

I know a bulleted list doesn't quite catch every nuance of what has happened here, and I also know i'm not the only one with experiences regarding this issue. The arc he was previously a part of has been stopped and others are now beginning to speak out. I hope with my bulleted explanation and with the screenshots provided that it is enough that everyone can make an informed decision about interacting with him. Which again, my purpose here isn't to tell anyone what they should or shouldn't do. But to inform, as I believe that as members of the community we have an obligation to keep one another safe, and to point out potential hazards as we see them. I do hope everyone has an excellent day, and is excellent to one another.  (All screens grouped below, sorry they're out of order) https://imgur.com/gallery/NMXjeuL If there is a need for further screenshots, which there are, or any other questions or concerns please don't hesitate to reach out to me. I will try to check this tumblr daily, as work and time permits. 

[sweetestrequiems]

The Tower of London

Requested by: A lovely and wonderful Anon! Thank you for sending a letter. <3

Character(s): Anne Boleyn (Other Queens are in it too, and even the Ladies in Waiting! But like Silence is Never Better, the focus is on one queen’s internal monologue.)

Summary: Anne Boleyn, the mystery. The one who changed history–– the temptress. What history tended to call her, when she just honestly lived her life. After one long two show day, Boleyn finds herself stuck inside of her head, unable to get out. As the Queens had a free day the next day, they were making plans to stay up all night and marathon movies. Little did they know though, that Boleyn was having another episode of nightmares. Slamming the door shut, she feels compelled to head to the Tower of London, needing the quiet of the square to allow herself to scream.

TW: References to Insomnia, Depressive Thoughts Mentions of Boleyn’s beheading/Flashbacks Nightmares Panic Attacks

A/N: This will also be posted on my AO3 account! But enjoy the Boleyn angst. She’s my favorite queen to write about. And yes, I have double and triple checked the foreign languages (French/German, since Spanish is my native language). This is fairly long, just a disclaimer of that. Enjoy it! 

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“Anne Boleyn, don’t you dare walk out that door.”

“Watch me.”

But it was too late. The wooden door was slammed shut, leaving five women in bewilderment at what had just happened. This was not normal behavior for Anne Boleyn, and anyone could attest to that. What had been festering in her head over the past few days would not leave her alone. The slamming door made Katherine Howard flinch and hunch her shoulders reflexively.

“Annie?”

Now, what happened during the day that Boleyn acted out in such a manner?

––––––––––

Bright and early morning.

One could smell the coffee, and that partly due to the fact that Catherine Parr used a french press. There was the sounds of the morning bustle with a rather surprising outburst of laughter from Catherine of Aragon. The last of the queens to wake up was Anne Boleyn. With how she had been feeling lately, the second wife found herself staying up later than most usual nights, and that was late enough to hear the occasional groan of frustration from Parr while she wrote.

As the door to the room opened, the other queens heard it. And enthusiastically, they all looked over at Boleyn. Katherine Howard’s eyebrows furrowed just a little, but she just shrugged it off and carried on with her bright expression after a few moments. “Anne! You’re up late. You... okay?” Her cousin in pink ran over to her and grabbed her hands. Boleyn just looked up and yawned, nodding. A small smile came to her face. “Yeah, of course! Just slept in a little later than usual.”

“That’s how we all tend to get sometimes after our days off,” Anna of Cleves gave a laugh. “Come on, slowpoke. The last seat is yours and Jane didn’t want to start breakfast without you.” The German pointed at the chair next to the second empty one, which was Howard’s as she was up and holding on to her cousin. “We’re a big family, and as such, we will eat like one. At least in the mornings, because sometimes you ladies are crazy.”

“Easy for you to say. You and Anne are the craziest of them all,” a quiet snort from Jane Seymour. The blonde woman just shook her head and allowed her smile to be present. “Come on, you two!” The cousins looked at each other with a nod and went to sit down. “Now that we’re all here, we can––... why is it that you always only drink coffee in the morning?”

A little huff, and a bit of a heavier Manchester accent from Parr. “I like coffee, what can I say? I also eat a bit while I stay up at night, you can’t blame a girl.”

––––––––––

1:30 pm. Thirty minutes before show time.

“Good afternoon ladies! This is your thirty minute call.”

A soft mutter from Boleyn as she responded, “Thank you thirty.” Aragon opened the door to the dressing room up, sitting down next to the green queen. “You still haven’t done your hair, bombon? Want me to do it for you?” A sigh was the response. Anne just looked up with tired eyes, shrugging. “Yeah, you can. I just haven’t been sleeping well these past few nights, is all.” Standing up, Aragon placed herself behind Boleyn, running her hands through her hair for a moment.

A knock. A collective “Come in.” came from both of the queens.

The one to open the door was Maria. “Hey. Parr wanted me to pass a message to you both,” the drummer found herself leaning against the door frame. “She wanted to ask if you two in here wanted to go eat after the first show. We’re all going, Maggie included after we convinced her to. A qué les parece eso, Lina?” There was a pause. Anne didn’t really want to go. She didn’t want to feel like such a negative ball of energy when the other queens were happy.

“Me parece bien. Necesitaban algo más, Maria?” Looking over to the door, Aragon’s hands kept working with Boleyn’s hair, trying to get her ready for the show. She had everything else done, and she was in costume, but her hair wasn’t done. “No, that was all. I’ll tell them that you’re undecided. Is that fine, Anne?”

“Oui. Je vais leur rendre visite plus tard. Merci, Maria.” Maria gave a very confused look at Anne, before realizing what she said. “Ah, okay! Yeah, no problem.” Then again, she just heard the “Yes.” and “Thank you, Maria.” as her clues to smile and give the queens a thumbs up. “I’ll leave you two to get suited up to kick Tudor ass. Ah, Lina, no te olvides de lo que hablamos.” Anne Boleyn just stared at herself in the large mirror. Something about her mood definitely did seem off. What was going on through her head? What could’ve possibly been burning at her core that she just couldn’t get off her chest? Well, the answer to that... quite simply put, is nightmares. She was reliving traumatic nightmares from the day of her beheading. She didn’t really know if she could get through the two show day without freaking out.

––––––––––

A thunderous knock rattled the doors of where she was being held in the Tower. 

Why was Anne in her modern body? Was this another nightmare? It was, and she could feel herself reliving everything.

Her right hand clutched onto her chest, the rattling of the door getting progressively louder. The once bright-eyed queen felt herself cower into the corner. Why was this happening again?

Just as soon as the rattling became a thunderous boom, the nightmare seemed to stop. This was not the case. Anne found herself now outside of the Tower of London, trembling. She felt herself be pushed down, and her head be almost thrown to the scaffold. Looking up at the massive crowd, she saw herself. Another modern version of herself, who looked just as mortified as the Anne Boleyn on the literal chopping block.

Right before the sword struck her neck, everything went black.

––––––––––

Anne jolted back into her reality, almost jumping through the roof when Cleves put a hand on her. The sudden short breaths from the one in green made the fourth wife worried. She helped her counterpart up, and gently pulled her towards the door. “Beruhige dich! Geht es dir gut?” The German woman gave a side hug to the second wife, with a nod being the thing she responds with.

“Ladies, this is your final places call.”

“Thank you, places!” Aragon closed the door to the dressing room and gave Boleyn a pat on the shoulder. “You’re okay. You’re with us. Come on, let’s go kick some serious Tudor ass and take our stories back.”

––––––––––

To think, that was only the first half of the day. The second half went much worse.

Normally, Anne Boleyn was one to go and greet the fans. Take pictures with them, sign things. But she quite literally could not handle the crowds tonight. Sure, it wasn't the first time this happened, but not even to this degree. Sitting in the dressing room, out of her costume and back into the pair of sweatpants and oversized pullover she loved to wear. Her hair remained down and all. Taking just a few deep breaths, her left hand came up to the choker.

It was burning like crazy. Her scar would not stop hurting. Her head would not stop pounding.

“Anne? Hey, are you ready to go home?” Katherine Howard, her beloved cousin. She wished she could share what was paining her with the girl, but she could not find the strength to open up. A nod came from Anne as she grabbed her bag and followed Kitty outside of the room, and to the exterior of the theatre where everyone else was waiting. “I got her! She was just zoning out.”

“Sorry. I just... I needed to breathe.”

“Well relax, babe. Everything’s all okay with us. You know we’ll give you the space if y’need it,” Catherine Parr nodded. The Ladies in Waiting all stood with the Queens, with nods going across the board. Maggie stepped up, gently taking Boleyn’s hands in her own and whispering. “Est-ce les cauchemars? You look pale from it.” Just a subtle nod from Anne. “Oui.”

“I figured so. Call me when you get home, okay? I’ll try to help you calm down,” with a smile, Maggie pulled Anne into a hug and then headed back to the other Ladies in Waiting. The four waved and headed off on their way, with the Queens all heading back home themselves.

This is where things begin to get messy.

––––––––––

It was about maybe 11:45 at this point. The stars were out and the queens were all in the living room, with Katherine somehow laying across all four of the other women sitting on the couch. Anne Boleyn? No where to be found. Probably in her room. 

She was staring at the scar in the mirror, choker tightly gripped in her hand. It felt like a fever dream–– standing in front of the mirror and seeing her head. The second wife felt herself beginning to shake. Her legs felt weak, her chest began to crush itself underneath its weight. Why wouldn’t it go away? Why wouldn't it leave her alone? She slammed the choker down on the vanity in her room, the thud getting the attention of everyone else.

A rather worked up and on the verge of tears Boleyn stormed out of her room, and snatched Jane’s keys from the key rack. That brought instant concern to Jane Seymour and the other queens. Katherine Howard sat herself upright and leaned forward. “Anne? Anne, what’s going on?”

“I can’t take the constant thundering knocks and the crowds! Everything burns, damn it! I... I need to go! I need some sort of closure for this,” Anne Boleyn started for the door. Jane Seymour immediately stood up, and started to pace over to the queen about to exit the house.

“Anne Boleyn, don’t you dare walk out that door.”

“Watch me.”

But it was too late. The wooden door was slammed shut, leaving five women in bewilderment at what had just happened. This was not normal behavior for Anne Boleyn, and anyone could attest to that. What had been festering in her head over the past few days would not leave her alone. The slamming door made Katherine Howard flinch and hunch her shoulders reflexively.

“Annie?”

––––––––––

It was going to be one hell of a drive. And she made sure to take her time.

But Anne Boleyn knew exactly where she was going.

The car seemed to have jerked to a stop, but it didn’t.

Shuddering, she got out of the car and closed the door, keys going into her pocket. Her steps began to feel like they were echoing in the silence. Looking up, her fists closed. The Tower of London, the very dreaded spot that she met her untimely fate, and where her cousin was murdered by Henry for things out of her control. Looking around, she realized she was alone. And for the first time that she could recall, she just fell to her knees, and let out a shrill scream.

“Damn you, damn you! Why don’t you ever leave me alone?!” Her hair fell over her face as she started crying. If she walked any father, she would’ve been where she was so many centuries ago, watching a crowd and awaiting for her head to get sliced off. “Let me live in peace! I just want to sleep one damn night!”

Forcing her tear-stained face to look up, she tried forcing herself to take a deep breath. 

The silence wasn’t unnerving, but rather welcoming. It was almost telling her to come closer to the Tower, and to the very spot she once stood in centuries ago. Standing up, with her whole body now shaking and her fighting back tears, Anne Boleyn began to walk forward. A slight breeze began to blow from the west, and it helped move some of the hair off of her face. Feeling herself fall to her knees again, Anne just screamed.

She was screaming. Yelling. Crying. Anything she could do to release her frustration. Her hands came up to her neck, and held it rather tightly in attempt to ease the burning down. She knew her throat would be shot from this. She knew she would not be able to sing, but she needed the release of emotion. It was almost cathartic to her. The Tower of London was giving her a second chance at letting her emotions out, as she couldn’t really do it on that fated day.

The breeze picked up as Anne continued to holler out and do whatever she could. The tight, crushing feeling of her chest was slowly going away. 

That was all she needed. She just needed to focus her emotions on something. This was that something. The silence was the something, and she could cry out to it and feel safe. There was no judgement, no looks of concern. Just Anne Boleyn and her feelings. Managing to stand up, she looks up at the night sky. Stars littered everywhere, but she can't help the anger from the recurring nightmares being her focus.

“Why, you bastard! Why did you have to kill her! Why us?! What have we ever done to you to get treated so terribly?! You broke Aragon’s heart, took my life, forced Jane into submission, made Cleves have terrible self doubt...” Her voice just got louder. “And Kitty! Poor Kitty died because of your total bullshit! It wasn't her fault! It will never be her fault! Do you hear me, Henry?! It was never her damn fault!”

––––––––––

She didn’t know the time.

Boleyn found herself at a lot more ease. Screaming until you literally couldn’t was not the healthiest thing to do, but it was the only thing she felt compelled to do. Pulling her phone out of her pocket, she looks at the screen. Missed calls and text messages from the other queens. And Katherine’s was the most recent one.

Annie... please come back home. We’re really worried about you.

All she did was respond with, I’ll be there soon. I promise.

And true to her word Anne Boleyn was. She showed up back at the house maybe at around two in the morning, with the other queens all swarming to hug her when she got back. For the first time in maybe...  a while, Anne could say she felt okay. She felt... fine. And being in the silence for a few hours truly was what made her feel so okay.

[kainumbernine009]

I literally cannot do anything else until I get this out.

I’m... really not okay.

And when I say that, I’m not mentally unstable. I say that because I’m tired of waiting on empty promises, I’m tired of never having money in our account, I’m tired of living in a fucking city where half of the white people fucking worship the ground Trump walks on, and where most of the gay community has so much messy drama that it’s worse than middle school. And I went to a rough middle school.

I never talk about my past, because I don’t like to. It sucked. HARD. Being and only child in my family was nothing less than torture, especially as a closeted queer person. We grew up in the white Christian part of Nashville that dominated Music Row in the 90′s and early 2000′s. I played basketball with Alan Jackson’s daughter, and being around famous people was just no big deal. But, my parents decided to leave Nashville after my dad lost his job at TPAC, and we moved down south an hour to the town where the KKK got started (Pulaski, TN).

I had maybe two non-white people in my private Christian school growing up. I was never afraid of Black people, but my parents showed their racist asses quick when we moved there. The KKK has never left America, guys, no matter how many articles you read or studies you do. From 2005 to 2009 I saw a white town show its very worst to the Black community. I’ll never forget the first time I saw a march for “White Christians for Purity” the summer before Obama got elected. The disgust I felt inside was palpable. I had all kinds of friends in school, and I didn’t give TWO SHITS who they were or what they looked like... but I saw children my age, being brainwashed by their parents, that “white” is “right.”

Ever since then, I have been learning and growing about the issues of race. I remember my white classmates using the N word and getting away with it. I remember hearing about the principal at the high school punishing all the Black kids but not the white kids. I remember being invited to a church south of town that was a historically Black church, and how nice the ladies were to me for coming.

But I’ll never forget the racism that the religious groups promoted there, especially First Baptist Church and the 12 Tribes. I’ll never forget how FBC told me that my friend was going to Hell because she killed herself. I’ll never forget my mom telling me not to marry a Black man because of “impure genes.” I WILL NEVER FORGET THE INJUSTICES I SAW WHITE PEOPLE DOING TO BLACK PEOPLE THERE. NEVER.

And thank God, I have shaken the burden of religious guilt, but I still fight against this mentality. I live in a place that’s usually not even 10 minutes away from Trump-humping, sister-fucking, meth-addicted Confederate cunts in any direction. And we’re even closer to the rich white people who silently supported him, upset that their taxes would go up because of Biden.

And in the past four years since Trump got elected, I’ve gotten married, graduated college with honors, started my own photography business, and was making more than my husband there for a minute. I did my own taxes, marketing, editing, and everything. And then I came out as trans.

I lost everything.

I lost my studio. I lost friends. I had rumors started about me. I had people post hate messages on my wall. I had people at my drag shows tell others not to tip me, for whatever fucking reasons. I’ve had bosses give cis people jobs over me, and I’ve had government workers give me second looks when I hand them my license.

It. Fucking. Sucks. To. Live. Here. Like. This.

Oh yeah, did I mention I’m also a witch/medium? I’ve talked to dead people before and have told their relatives things I shouldn’t have known otherwise about their grandparents. Like, this information doesn’t even exist on Google. And I’m attuned to reiki. I’m always aware of what’s happening on at least SOME metaphysical level. This is a gift that I’ve had to go through life developing and learning about myself, with no one’s help but me.

I didn’t even know until I was an adult that I have autism and ADHD.

I’ve taken bullets from people who were about to kill themselves. I’ve yelled at 5th grade music classrooms for doing racist dance moves and appropriating Native Americans (I have a degree in Music Education K-12). I’ve consoled kids in classrooms who suddenly have panic attacks. AND I’ve told horny teenagers to stay in their fucking lane and respect the girls around them. I’ve apparently been an inspiration to those around me, but inspiration NOR exposure pays the bills. I’ve already had COVID, and so has my husband, but I knew that after graduating college that I would never have a fulfilling life being a music teacher in Tennessee’s public schools.

And now that we have COVID, and an orange, small-dicked, pedophilic, rape apologizing, dirty, crusty white president who STILL REFUSES TO CONCEDE, who is DIRECTLY RESPONSIBLE FOR HAVING HIS FOLLOWERS SEND DEATH THREATS TO MY FAMILY, I really don’t know what the fuck else to do other than go burn down all the houses I know of in North Georgia that belong to these Christian sex cult pedophiles and call it a day. My girlfriend unfortunately was born into one of those families, and I know just how bad it can get. In fact, her dad’s lawyer threatened me with blackmail earlier in November, so that was fun!

And now, on December 11, 2020, I’m still sitting here in the same fucking house, doing the same fucking things I’ve been doing all year - trying to get a job and failing horribly. I’M SICK AND TIRED OF THIS COVID BULLSHIT AND OUR INCOMPOTENT CUNT OF A PRESIDENT! And there’s only ever one other person I’ve ever called a cunt... my own mother.

I’ve lived in many places. I’ve met many different people. I’ve made mistakes, and have grown, but there’s one thing for damn sure that I always make sure to do, every single fucking day.

I ALWAYS try to do better.

In addition to this, I treat everyone with the same amount of respect, unless they have done something directly to me to negate that. If I know that someone believes in something that directly harms me or my family, I don’t even associate with them. I don’t spend my energy on things that don’t need it. And everyone else should, too.

The problem with some of y’all is that you care about the wrong things. Like will Becky text me back or did I get front row seats to that concert, or did I slave my life away to capitalism just so that I can own a Mercedes and have my friends jealous. I’ve had way too many dear death experiences to know that EVERY single fucking day is a gift. EVERY day.

I don’t want to be remembered first for the art I create. I want to be remembered for my character. I want to be remembered as the courageous person who never backed down in the face of adversity. But when you live in a place that already hates you and that is against you, that’s really fucking hard. Trust me. My marriage went from a cis straight passing couple to a white gay passing couple. I’ve seen how people’s attitudes changed around me as I transitioned. I know what it feels like to slowly lose a piece of your privilege you were born with.

So yeah, I kinda get a little fucking upset when I see people saying All Lives Matter, or when I see doctors refusing to treat trans patients in pandemics, or when I see cops YET AGAIN harassing Black people only a few blocks away from my house for no other reason than racism. And at this point, anyone who thinks they know me but only knows what people think they know about me can suck my entire ass and eat ten dicks. I don’t give a FUCK about who you are or what you’ve done. If you treat me or other people with no respect for no reason other than to be an asshole, you’re just plain shit. If you SERIOUSLY believe every little rumor and lie that someone tells about me before meeting me, fuck you AND the horse you rode in on.

What I can’t stand is people doing or saying things just to get a rise out of me or others. I thought we left petty shit in high school. Some of the people that “know” me really need to fucking grow up and grow a pair and either say what they want to my face, or stay mad. I’m tired of playing fucking petty games with y’all. We have a whole ass pandemic to solve.

So here’s the ultimatum... if you agree that Black Lives Matter and that queer people deserve basic human rights, EVEN THE ONES YOU HATE, then that’s the bare minimum to even be a decent person. If you can’t even do those things, then I don’t fucking know what else to say to you.

So NBC, maybe not have John Mulaney joke about my license debacle with my gold van on SNL, and Seth Meyers... maybe HIRE ME INSTEAD of Mulaney because clearly y’all don’t know about the south as much as I do? Oh, and that gazeebo joke with Lee University... I caught that. I may have autism, but I’m not a fucking idiot. I mean. I’m funny when I’m given the chance. And yeah, I’m on a watchlist, but who the fuck isn’t these days? At least all my secrets are out for the world to see, and I have a bangin’ tattoo.

I’m tired of everyone being like “omg, I’ve seen what he can do, it’s fantastic!” or “omg you’re so funny haha” and bragging on me and then NOT FUCKING HIRING ME. I’m TIRED of waiting on something that’s clearly at this point never coming.

I don’t even have testicles, and my balls are bigger than most of the cis men I have EVER met.

So, if you want to help me, or hire me, or get me out to an audition... I’ll be there. But until then, I’m so fucking MAD at some of these producers. Yeah, my mom is a cunt, but she worked in various forms of digital production from the 1980′s until she retired this year. She taught me SO MUCH about directing, writing, shooting, and more. I know how these things are supposed to run behind the scenes. I know what the fuck I’m doing, and I don’t take constructive criticism like a bitch. I actually WANT to be criticized, so I can do even better.

So PLEASE, for the love of Christ... y’all need to get your priorities together AND PLEASE STOP LEAVING ME OUT OF THE LOOP WITH THIS BULLSHIT. Grow a fucking pair and either call me, email me, or leave me alone. It’s really not that fucking hard. Looking at you, Lorne Michaels.

Oh and someone tell my husband what the fuck’s been going on because I’m tired of him gaslighting me about it.

[choonlo]

Hey ⑇ p.js

a park jisung oneshot

genre : fluff

wc : 4k

The screams got noticeably louder when a familiar tune began to play from the speakers.

A bead of sweat trickled from the side of your forehead down to your neck as you desperately tried to fan yourself with your hands. Joined by a few other fans, the six members of NCT Dream were in the middle of the crowd, dancing to their latest song, "Boom". You hadn't expected this to happen—actually, none of the people here had, not even the host of the occasion. It was merely a coincidence, you thought. For Korean idols to appear and eventually join this random K-Pop dance event was something out of a fangirl's dream, your dream, and everyone else's for that matter.

As you rapped Jaemin's lines along with the crowd, you let your eyes take in as much of your bias as you could. Park Jisung was indeed just a few meters away from you. Hell, you hadn't had the chance to go to concerts your whole life, but guess what? Your very first one was free, and it was better than those VIP seats that you couldn't afford with the five bucks you called your "savings".

It was hot. It felt like the sun's rays were stabbing your skin, and the heat from being squished in the middle of the cluster of sweaty bodies certainly didn't help either. You ignored the pounding in your head and focused on Jisung who was now dancing to Chewing Gum. The corners of your lips twitched upward. It's been years since the song was released, and you could still remember the curly hair that had brought you into the fandom.

Despite the obvious changes from 2016 Jisung and the present, you could still feel the childlike innocence that radiated from him, the absolute cuteness that caught your eye when you first watched their debut video.

Minutes passed, and they were finally done. The host was now talking to the group, thanking them as each of the members took their turn in shaking his hand. Most of the people were filming the moment, wanting to have something to remember the experience with. You would've been doing the same, but you weren't. It didn't occur to your mind that you should've been doing something like taking a picture, of recording a video on your phone. Instead of doing any of these, you screamed.

"I LOVE YOU PARK JISUNG!"

You had screamed at the top of your lungs, your shrill voice piercing through and drowning out every other noise. Silence suddenly existed in the busy area you were in thanks to you, and you hadn't noticed what you'd done until Jisung's eyes locked with yours.

Actually, all eyes were on you, but it was as if you and Jisung were the only ones there, as cliché as it sounded. Was it mentioned that you were wearing a shirt with Jisung's name and face imprinted on it? And that your backpack was embedded with NCT enamel pins, half of them being, again, Jisung's face. Well, now you remembered.

Finally, you snapped out of your trance and slapped a hand over your mouth, face flushing when you realised the amount of attention being directed to you. A few people started laughing, giggling, whatever. Some went "aww" at your adorable reaction. This made you look down at your feet, and because you did so, you failed to see how Jisung's cheeks reddened, too.

×

Having finished your grieving session, you walk down the stairs to grab a glass of water, phone in hand. You've been wailing in your room for the past few hours, and you basically let your heart out as your parents weren't home yet. But you were probably loud enough that your neighbours may have thought of calling the police, which they thankfully hadn't.

"Legit, I wouldn't be surprised if Jisung has a fanboy crush on you right now," Kim clicked her tongue, her voice seemingly laced with excitement.

Videos of NCT Dream's appearance earlier had started to circulate the internet, not one from any of the social media platforms you used didn't have at least ten posts about the afternoon event downtown.

Of course, that wasn't what had gotten you riled up.

There were clips dedicated to you, most having your face clearly shown in them. Notifications from your phone blew up the moment you got home, friends and strangers spamming you with messages, and you weren't surprised that some even had threats.

Apparently, a lot had seen how Jisung reacted, and some speculations of you being someone more than a fan began to spread across the whole fandom. Oh boy, how you wished.

"Um, no," you retorted, placing the glass on the coaster as you plopped yourself onto the couch. "Did you even see my face in those videos? I looked like crap! Jisung probably felt embarrassed!"

"That's not the overly confident Y/N I know," Kim laughed through the phone. You roll your eyes at her comment. "You looked cute! Like, you looked haggard as fuck, but it was the pretty type of haggard!"

"What does that even mean?" You were annoyed, but you couldn't help but laugh at her statement. "This isn't a fanfiction, Kim."

She groaned, "Oh shut up, ten bucks to you if you don't get involved with NCT's Jisung within a month."

"Are you serious?" you replied, enthused. "You do know that I'm totally winning that bet?"

"Yeah, sure." As she spoke, you heard your phone emit a soft ring from the coffee table. You lean forward from the couch to peak at the screen, there was a notification from your social media, someone had just sent you a message.

"Was that yours?" Kim asked. Your response was a mere hum as you took the device into your hand. It was from a user whose name was literally "akzkjzjsj", and you almost ignored it if it weren't for Kim's comment; "I bet it's Jisung."

Squinting, you saw how the person's icon was a picture of the ceiling, nothing else but a light bulb in the image, like it had been taken just now for a one time use.

akzkjzjsj

: hey

Curious, you were. It didn't seem like a bot. Maybe the person would give you threats, too? It made sense, as it was an account that had just been made.

PJiuwusuwung

: whats up?

akzkjzjsj

: do u know nct

You scoffed, wasn't that already obvious? Ignoring Kim's voice, you typed in a reply.

PJiuwusuwung

: this is legit a jisung fan account ur talking to

akzkjzjsj

: ok

: can we meet up tomorok?

: tomorrow*

PJiuwusuwung

: um what i dont even know u???

akzkjzjsj

: that dog cafe downtown tom at 3 pm

: Nthnkzs (:

Your eyebrows furrowed. "What?" you let out a confused noise, beginning to type once again.

PJiuwusuwung

: wtf !

: what makes u think i'll go !

: hEllo? !

Noticing that your messages weren't sending, you clicked on the person's icon. A wry laugh bubbled from your throat, the person had blocked you. You exited the application and placed the phone back onto the small table.

"Are you done ignoring me?" Kim's irritated voice made you sigh. "What happened? Wait! Don't tell me Jisung actually contacted you."

"No, it wasn't him," you began, "Some guy—or girl, just asked to meet up tomorrow at that dog cafe we go to a lot. And guess what? The asshole blocked me before I could even reply."

"Don't go," she said with a stern tone. "It might be sasaengs, you should be careful when going out. Some people can be dumb enough to do something crazy before thinking twice."

Kim was right, but you decided to brush it off. "Calm down, it's not like I was planning to go anyway," you chuckled lightly, shaking your head.

"Yeah, good to know."

×

"Dad, I'm going out!"

"Where to?" he questioned. Slipping your shoes on, you thought of what your best friend had told you the night before. You technically weren't going to the cafe. There was a sale in the small store downtown, and you didn't want to pass the chance to get your hands on K-Pop merch for lower prices. Obviously, you had to ask for money from your mother, and she was reluctant to give you any, but you had begged enough that she was finally just forced to do so.

"I'm going to meet up with Kim downtown."

"Have fun," he replied. "Don't stay out too late."

After half an hour, you finally arrived. You entered the store, but not without bumping into a few bodies, the place was filled with people after all. Noticing how many customers crowded around the NCT section, you lowered your cap, and you snickered silently. Why were you acting like this? You thought you were being too dramatic, they probably had no clue who you were, anyway.

Your hand hovered an inch above the mask you wore before you stopped, hearing the conversation of the girls by the stand.

"Have you seen that video Jisung? The one where he acted weird when that one fan suddenly screamed "I love you" out loud?" one of them asked, studying Jisung's photocard in her hand.

"Who hasn't? Ugh, seriously, I would've went if I had known that Dream would show up!" the other whined. "The girl is so lucky, all the members looked at her at the same time! I would sell my kidney just to experience that!"

A shiver ran down your spine. It certainly wasn't nice to hear people talking about you, even though it wasn't anything bad, it made you uncomfortable.

Saving the money given to you was undeniably the better option rather than staying here. Right when you turned your back to walk out of the store, your head bumped into someone's chest. You softly mumbled an apology and stepped aside.

A hand grabbed your arm, and you felt yourself stiffen. Fuck, were you recognized? You didn't even wear the bag you wore yesterday, and you had normal clothes on, not those unofficial NCT shirts you usually used. How could someone possibly. . You tried to jerk your arm away from the person's grasp, but his voice stopped you.

"Good thing you didn't remove your mask," he remarked before pulling you out of the store. You knew better than to attract attention to yourself and the boy, and because you had an idea of who he was, you didn't cry for help. Once the two of you were a good distance away from the shop, you pulled your arm out of his grip and stepped back.

"What do you—"

"Don't worry! I won't do anything to you," the boy chuckled, shrugging his shoulders awkwardly. You look at him, he wasn't Jisung, the neon hair peaking out from the front of his hat said otherwise.

"Zhon—"

"Hey now! No blowing our covers!" Chenle hushed you as he crossed his arms, sending you a playful glare. He noticed your confused expression and sighed. "Why are you even here? Didn't we tell you to go to the dog cafe down the street?"

"Wh—" you paused. Realisation hits you like a truck and you gasp, hands moving to slap your cheeks. The person who had messaged you last night, the one who'd asked you to meet up. Was it Chenle?? "Why did you want to meet me?"

"Me? Oh no, not me! All we did was talk to you for Jisung," he explained, voice retreating to a soft whisper at the end of his sentence. Before he could say anything else, you cut him off.

"We?"

He tilted his head in confusion before letting out a sound and clasping his hands together. "I mean me, and the other members, aside from the youngest."

"You see," he continued, "Jisung basically developed a crush on you when he saw you yesterday! He couldn't stop asking himself, and us, what your name was and if he was your favourite among all the members—which was obvious because his face was literally on your shirt."

Chenle shuts his mouth, realising what he was doing. "I'm sorry for babbling. Jisung's waiting for you in the cafe, you should go now!"

He twirls you around and gives your back a push, snapping you out. "Wait, I—"

"Follow me," another boy shows up in front of you. You feel your head pound from everything that's happening, but you follow him nonetheless as he crosses the street. It takes the two of you a few minutes to get to the doors of the cafe, and you almost feel like fainting right there and then.

"I-I still have so many questions," you stare up at the person who escorted you to the cafe. The familiar eyes were enough for you to know that you were talking to Lee Jeno. "Can I pleas—"

"You should get in and sit down," he assured, giving you a pat on the shoulder. "You'll have your questions answered in there."

You nodded your head and tiredly pushed passed the door, the bell ringing from the motion. Puppies started to swarm around your feet, and you began to feel better as you squatted down in an attempt to stop the dizziness you felt.

As you pet the small poodle softly on its head, you take notice of the person who knelt beside you. Raising your head, your eyes immediately meet his. Jisung's face blushes a bright red, and you head the choked howling from the other side of the cafe. The other three members were clearly here.

"H-Hey," he uttered softly, averting his gaze onto the puppies that played with you. "I'm Park Jisung."

Despite the awkwardness, you didn't stop the laugh that bubble from your throat, and Jisung was glad that you didn't, because your voice truly was music to his ears.

"You didn't have to introduce yourself, Jisung." You wanted to give yourself a good ol' pat on the back as you smiled at him, making him even more flustered than before. It was weird, you should've been the one unable to talk properly! He was your idol, after all.

"Do you—I—uh, should—" Jisung was being the exact meme you'd expected him to be, and you felt your lips twitch at his cuteness.

"Let's take a seat on the tables—I mean chairs, the chairs, yes," he kept on stammering, standing up and holding a hand out for you. Now it's your turn to be awkward, staring at his hand for a long time before feeling the heat rise up to your ears.

"Oh, I'm supposed to—" you took his hand and stood up. The other members couldn't stop themselves from making noise. Chenle, who had already entered silently from behind the two of you, would've burst out laughing if it weren't for the four covering his mouth.

The two of you settle at the table further inside of the cafe, cautious of the fans that may possibly pass by. Jisung sat across from you, facing away from the transparent walls. Silence lasted for a long moment before he finally spoke up, "So, how long have you been a fan of our group?"

You looked up from the puppy on your lap and bit back a smile. He actually spoke without stuttering this time. "I started liking NCT when I saw Dream's debut video."

You saw the interest sparkle from Jisung's eyes as he leaned forward, intrigued. "I was actually skeptical about it first, because I wasn't quite a fan of cutesy concepts. But once I watched it, your unit became my favourite group."

"Why's that?" he wondered, tilting his head to the side cutely. An action so adorable that it made your heart skip a beat.

"W-Well, first of all, the song was catchy," you shifted on your seat, avoiding his gaze. "The vocals and raps were everything. I even spent my time trying to learn the choreography!"

You were about to start talking again before you remembered who was sitting in front of you. It was hard to do anything when you knew that the Park Jisung was giving all his attention to you.

The corners of Jisung's mouth quirked into a grin, he knew his effect on you, but he didn't want that to ruin this rare opportunity to be able to spend his time with someone he liked. "Hey." His voice made your shoulders jump. "Let's try to be comfortable with each other. Just talk to me, and I'll listen."

Because I want to get to know you better.

"Actually," he began when you finally faced him, "I was wondering if—"

"Sorry to interrupt," Renjun's voice startled the both of you, and Jaemin had to slap his shoulder to stop him from giggling. "Your drinks are with us,"

The two boys moved to the side of your table and placed each beverage on the coaster provided. Your eyebrows raise when you realize that the one given to you was your favourite. Jaemin was beaming, and seeing Renjun give you a polite smile, you decided not to question it and thanked them before they retreated back to their spot.

Either they stalked you hardcore, or they asked the lady in the counter for your usual.

"G-Go on," you shyly urge Jisung to continue, looking down into the glass as you look a sip from the straw.

"Can I get your number?"

He'd said it so softly, so sweetly, and oh so smoothly that you almost choked, shocked at his straightforward question. You face becomes beet red and you clumsily try to get an answer out.

Jisung sees how you react and panics as well, "I m-mean you don't have to! I just—"

"It's okay!" you cut him off, shaking your head profusely. He went silent, and so did you, not knowing what to say. What's next? Your mind was a total mess as you tried to think. Finally, you decided on getting your phone out, but he beats you to it, handing you his phone with a new contact ready to be added.

He knew that your first da—meeting, wouldn't go well. Jisung was an idol, and you were his fan. Although he was glad that you didn't go brain-dead, it was still a shame that the two of you couldn't speak to each other properly as it was, clearly, awkward.

That's why he thought that getting your number would be best, as he could easily talk to you without you seeing him get flustered about everything you did. It was an idea that he was proud of, so he couldn't help but bite his lip in an attempt to hide his smile as he watched you type in your number.

"H-Here," you return the gadget, looking away embarrassed and bewildered. Park Jisung asked you for your number. Park Jisung has your number. Park Jisung plans to contact you after all of this. The Park Jisung, actually knows you?

Jisung shot up from his seat, arm sticking out ready to catch you when you almost fell off your seat sideways. He moved to kneel beside you, pressing a hand onto your forehead and taking your wrist into the other, "Are you okay?"

It felt like your body was on fire when he touched you. "I-I-I am! Yeah, I'm good! Totally good!" you yelped, gently peeling his hand away from your head.

"But you're hot to the touch!" he protested.

"That's because I'm blushing!" you shook your head, pulling him up to stand. "I'm not sick, I'm just flustered."

"O-oh," he mutters, rubbing the back of his neck. "Sorry about that."

"Don't worry, it's not your fault!" Well it is his fault, WHAT WERE YOU SAYING? You mentally slapped yourself and opened your mouth to speak.

"I—"

"Jisung!" a voice softly hissed. Donghyuck moved hastily, slamming his hands onto the table harshly. He turns to your and gives you a smile. "Hello, Y/N."

"Hi?"

The boy laughs and turns back to his friend, shooting Jisung a panicked glare. "We have to go. Now. The manager is looking for us!"

Both your eyes widen and the two of you stand up in unison. Haechan pats Jisung on the chest before hurrying back, and Jisung looks back at you.

"I can see that you have to go," you gestured to the boys in chaos from the other side of the room. You quickly took notice of the apologetic face he had. "Don't be sorry, I understand. Now go! I don't want any of you getting in trouble."

Jisung nodded and took your hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. Your breath hitched when he pecked your cheek before he runs out of the store with the other members, but not without sending you a last wave. You stood there, dumbfounded, a hand on the place where Jisung had kissed you.

A moment passes and you finally recollect yourself, staggering toward the counter to pay for the drinks you had. The lady smiled and returned the money, "Those boys already paid."

You uttered a soft "oh" before nodding your head and walking out of the cafe. Damn, the past hour felt like an eternity! You were dead on your feet when you arrived home, and you quietly made your way upstairs to your room as your father's snores echoed through the living room.

Crashing down onto the softness of your bed, you let out a tired moan. It didn't take long before you felt yourself drifting off to sleep.

×

A vibration from your leg woke you up, and you groaned as you sat up, rubbing your eyes and looking around your room. You yawned, stretching your arms out and arching your back. "That was one hell of a dream."

You reached for the phone that had gotten out of your pocket, and you blink. Why were you wearing the clothes you had on in your dream? A gasp escapes your lips and you quickly unlock your phone. An unknown number had sent you a message.

Unknown #

: hey

: its mee

You

: who is me?

: j88sufn?

: jisung??

Fingers shaking, you clicked your tongue as you had wanted to slap yourself for being so nervous.

Unknown #

: your one and only :))

You wanted to yell at the top of your lungs, but all that came out was a croak, your voice getting stuck down your throat.

You

: BUT i thought it was a dream?

: are u messing w me

The person takes time to respond before the bubble disappears. Instead, they sent a picture of you playing with the dog in the cafe you were in earlier.

Unknown #

: certainly wasn't a dream

: anywayyy how r u?

You take a full minute to process what was happening and slowly let your thumbs type.

UWUSUNG

: hold that thought

: i gtg for practice, i'll ttyl c:

: ♥️

What? Did Jisung just send you a heart? You, Y/N L/N, could talk to Park Jisung anytime you wanted to. It felt like a dream, like you were being one of those delusional fangirls. But you weren't, because this was real, you concluded after biting onto your arm.

You hadn't sent a reply back after that, as it was too much for you to take in. This only happens when your crush is in the same school as you, not when your crush is an actual idol from SM Entertainment!

You almost threw your phone the moment it rang, someone was calling you. Was it Jisung? No! He left to practice!

The contact "Kim✨😘" flashed from the screen and you sighed in relief, feeling your shoulders relax before you answered the call. Not waiting for her to make a sound, you squealed into the mic, earning a shout from her.

"What the actual FUCK?" she growled. You shrugged her clear annoyance off and started rambling about what happened. Kim, on the other hand, couldn't understand a word you were saying, telling you to shut up.

"Okay, calmly, tell me what happened," she told you, letting you breathe in normally. As you were about to speak, your phone vibrated, and you held it in front of you to check the screen. Jisung had sent you a picture of himself, although it seemed like it was taken by someone else. He was posing for the camera, a sheepish grin on his face as he went with the awkward peace sign.

You let out a laugh at this, finding the picture, which was presumably taken by Chenle, cute. You replied with a heart after saving the image.

"Hey." You heard her huff. "Did you hit your head or something?"

"Hey," you repeated, lips a permanent smile. "Let's meet up tomorrow."

"Sure, but why?"

"Because you're getting your ten bucks tomorrow."

[papergirllife]

The Story Of You And I.

Lee Taeyong ( One Shot- Part 1 )

Warnings : Angst, smut, slow burn.

You and Taeyong went way back. Since the both of you were 7 at the 2002 Seoul Fashion week for your mom's up and coming fashion label.

When you met him, he was working as a child model for your mom's brand.

" Hi I'm Y/N. What's your name?"

" I'm Taeyong. Who are you? "

"I'm Ms Kim's daughter. Your one of the models for this show aren't you? "

" Y-Yeah."

" Let's be friends from now on. "

"Okay."

You didn't know why you picked him out of all the boys there to make friends. Maybe it was because of his big googly eyes or his cute bouncy self waiting in line to be dressed.

The both of you became close friends. Always chatting at the backstage of every show. He even signed a contract to stay on with your mom's brand.

As you got to know him longer, you knew more about him. He was a rich family's son, he's mom was once a famous model back in the 70s' and married a wealthy business man. Their family owns Lee Insurance Inc. and even a law firm.

As he got older, his father wanted him to learn up the ropes of the business world, at the age of 12.

He never liked the corporate world, too shady he always said. Thankfully he has a sister who enjoyed business. So the responsibility didn't weight on him anymore.

As Taeyong and you grew, the both of you started developing into teenagers. His eyes were still big, but held a sense of mystery. His jawline sharper. Shoulders broader.

You hadn't changed much, not as much as he did. You started cutting down from snacking as you fall into the phase of wanting to keep yourself fit. You started a gym membership and enrolling dance classes.

You still remember staring at yourself in the mirror at age 15, admiring the curves you developed from your hard work.

Taeyong wasn't blind. He saw the way you changed. No longer that cute little girl who said hi to him at his first catwalk.

One day at the age of 16 the both of you were trapped in one of your mom's studio due to heavy snow fall as you were helping Taeyong with his measurements.

You got bored, so you started sketching some designs on your notebook after your mom taught you how to.

" Do you always bring along your sketch book and pencils wherever you go?"

" Yeah. So that whenever I'm inspired I'll always be able to draw at once. It's really important to me. "

" Thats so artistic and cool."

" Thank you. "

You could feel the blush creeping up your cheeks. You have never been complimented much in your life. Being a famous designer's daughter means you rarely have sincere friends. Taeyong was the closest to you among all.

You looked up from the sketch book to see Taeyong's face only millimeters away from yours. His eyes focused on your lips. With a pounding heart, you closed the gap between the two of you.

Everything was well for a year. Both of you were the sweethearts of the weekly tabloids. The power couple netizens would call the both of you. Until everything fell apart.

At one of your girl friend's new year's party bash. You were supposed to go there with Taeyong, but you suddenly had a headache from the amount of work from school and work. So Taeyong texted you that he wouldn't go as you weren't going to be there.

You were going to fall asleep until your friend Yeri called you.

" Y/N, Y/N. Open your messages right now. You won't like it, but it's the truth and I didn't want to hide it from you. "

" Um. Okay? Hang on a sec. "

When you opened Yeri's chat, there were two blurry photos, you clicked into them and your heart dropped.

It was Taeyong and some random girl making out. You exited your chat with Yeri and opened Taeyong's.

' I'm breaking up with you. '

You hit send and proceeded to block his number and all the other forms of social media accounts.

A few weeks later, the tabloids caught wind of the break up and even caught a photo of Taeyong and some girl kissing at Starbucks.

Taeyong and Y/N, Lovebirds No More? Who's Taeyong's New Mystery Girl?

Y/N's nasty heartbreak, Taeyong's Break For Freedom.

The Similarities Between Y/N and Taeyong's New Darling, Rosé.

Throughout this break up, only Yeri was there, helping me move on from my first love and heartbreak. Passing me tissues and eating tubs of ice cream together.

2019.

" Ms Bae, Ms Bae! "

" Yes? "

"We're short of one of our main male models, he suddenly called and said that his aunt was in critical condition at Jeju. So he flown out of the city and won't be participating in all of our shows. "

" Hurry find a replacement. Any decent model will be fine for today until we find another permanent. "

" Yes, Ms Bae."

You can't screw this up. This is the first time your mom gave you full reins of the company. You had to ace this one way or another.

You were adjusting a model's clothing when you heard a voice that made you drop the pins in your hand.

" Y/N, long time no see. "

You still remember his voice, even though it got deeper as he matured.

" Taeyong. "

You greeted him in a hardened tone.

" Cut the crap. What are you doing

here? "

" Ms Bae, Ms Bae. He was the only decent model available at such a short period of time. "

Your assistant didn't dare looked up to your face, fearing that you might fire her on the spot.

" Get him dressed Nancy. "

" Yes, Ms Bae. "

You looked at Taeyong like he was trash, well technically he is to you but not literally. And you really needed a replacement model.

" Y/N, don't you remember all the happy memories we shared? "

You ignored him and started picking out his runway attire.

" Mr Lee, what is the size of your waist? "

Your assistant asked.

" Ask Y/N. She knows. "

" I don't keep trash in my head. Tell her yourself. "

Taeyong sighed. You sneaked a glance at him. He still does that making his lips straight frown whenever he's frustrated.

It's time you forgot about him Y/N, you told yourself.

" Size 31. "

He took the pants from your assistant to change behind the veil.

" Are you okay Ms Bae?"

Nancy whispered.

"It's been 4 years plus now Nancy. I'm fine. " Or that's what you keep telling yourself.

Nancy seemed a little bit relieved at what you said event though she wasn't entirely sure you were speaking the truth.Suddenly someone called.

"Nancy, Nancy! We need your help with one of the model's measurements. "

You took Taeyong's clothes from her hands and beckoned her to go. She left with a little bit of uncertainty on her face, but didn't dare to question her boss.

Taeyong finally stepped out from the veil, looking smart in the pants you designed.

" Here. Change into the button up first, then the sweater, finally the coat. "

You passed every article of clothing to Taeyong but he didn't take it.

" Dress me. "

" Stop playing games Taeyong. Time is ticking. "

" What sort of games? You did this all the time back when we were kids. "

" I'm not your friend or anything anymore, so get dressed on your own. "

Instead of listening to you, Taeyong plopped down the stool, mindlessly looking at his fingers.

After a minute of no sign of movement from him you took matters into your own hands.

You began to unbutton his shirt rapidly and put on the shirt for him, buttoning the buttons.

Taeyong had a surprise look on his face, he didn't think you'd actually do it.

When you undressed him, you saw the changes on his body. He was much more built than he was last time. Small knobs and cervices at his once soft stomach. You were careful to not touch him.

After you finished adjusting the dress shirt, you forced the sweater over his head, fingers accidentally knocking onto some part of his face.

" Ouch! You used to be more gentle when you dressed me backstage your mom's shows. "

" Let the past stay the past. " You said as you dumped the coat on his face.

" Do that on your own, or get a fling to do it for you. "

You scanned him top to toe to see if anything was wrong. Until you spot his Nike sneakers.

You weren't going to be Prince Charming for him. So you called Nancy and told her to switch tasks with you with a pair of size 9 from your latest collection.

The show was starting soon, you double checked the attendance and the paper and magazine companies.

You could feel a headache forming thinking of the gossip columns eating on the drama that's going to happen tonight.

Ex Lovers Reunited?

What's Happening Between Taeyong and Y/N? Taeyong casted in Y/N's First Full Fledge Collection.

Just mother freaking great.

Everything went smoothly during the beginning, no mismatched clothes, no ruckus outside the venue.

You took a peak from behind the curtains. The columnist and VIP customers seemed to be enjoying it.

" Ms Bae, Ms Bae. "

Nancy called you interrupting your thoughts.

" Yes? "

" Right after Taeyong's wrap up for the runway, it's supposedly your turn to greet and thank the guest. "

Shit, I forgot. A could sense an oncoming disaster.

" Right, yeah. Just let me get changed and I'll be right out. "

You changed into a pair of black skinny jeans and black sweater, to not distract the audience from the clothes worn by the models.

I stood behind Taeyong to wait for my cue. He suddenly turned around and looked at me in the eyes.

" No good luck kiss like when we're 17? "

"You lost that right when you lost my trust. "

For a while Taeyong really looked hurt. I could have been imagining it, don't get your hopes up Y/N , it'll just break your heart again.

When Taeyong walked the runway, heads turned and jaws dropped. Of all the models to grace my brand they didn't expected him. Especially for the closing scene, but there wasn't anyone else under my belt that could pull of such an outfit.

I could see my guest started whispering among themselves. Some frowned, some smiled, some had cynical looks on their faces, like they expected you to fall back with your most popular ex.

When Taeyong came back, it was your time to shine.

" Thank you so much for coming to the show. Customers who would like to make purchases may raise their hand, an employee with an iPad would be of assistance. Once again thank you and goodnight. "

You bowed and returned to the back end. You started helping your staff pack up the equipment, but they all dismissed you midway claiming that they could finish up by themselves.

So you decided to pack up your belongings to head home to prepare for the after party.

After keeping everything, you double checked your belongings and found that your sketch book wasn't present.

You started panicking, the sketch book held many ideas and sketches for future references.

" Ms Bae you should head home to prepare yourself for the after party. "

" I know Nancy, but I can't seem to find my sketch book. "

Nancy's eyes became saucers, she knew how important that book was to you.

" I'll help you ask all the staff, you have to head home to prepare first, it's your first after party Ms Bae. "

" Okay, thank you Nancy. Contact me if you find it. "

[nancywheelxr]

from that drabble challenge list - 15 with five and any of the other hargreeves siblings, you choose

Anon, thank you so much, I love writing these chaotic disasters.

15. “I’d kill for a coffee… literally.”

Klaus is napping on the couch.

No, really, he is. Just give him a few minutes and he’ll be off to dreamland, very far from any new end of the world scenarios that he has no doubt will pop up in a few days. That’ just how it is when you’ve got shitty luck like them.

So, he’s napping on the couch when a shadow falls over him.

A very small shadow.

“Klaus,” the shadow says, way too bossy for such a tiny thing. Klaus peels one eye open and finds Five predictably scowling down at him. “If Luther or Diego asks, I’ll be back before dinner. Tell them not to start without me– are you listening to me?”

He waves a hand, “yeah, yeah. Luther and Diego are to sit tight while you’re off gallivanting in the real world.”

“This is not– nevermind. Allison should be back by then.”

And with that he’s off, shaking his head like he’s still the boss of them, which is ridiculous, because if anyone should be boss, it should be Allison, she’s the one looking like a proper grown-up these days.

The front door closes and Klaus shrugs; he’ll just sit tight too, then.

*

The shadow is back.

Klaus knows that because Ben hasn’t stopped whining about being bored since Five first left and his loud sighs are impossible to block out.

“Klaus,” the tiny shadow barks, and Klaus doesn’t even have to look up to know the kid is in a bad mood. “You searched through this place before. Where would Luther hide Dad’s guns?”

On one hand, this is a very troubling statement.

On the other hand, how’s that for being bored, now?

“Dad’s office, maybe?” He offers, glancing up at all the closed doors on the second floor. The big guy isn’t the smartest cookie in the jar, and he’s certainly not the most creative. Actually, Klaus wouldn’t be surprised if Luther had returned it to its exact same place. “Or the main bedroom. Under the bed, perhaps? Or inside the closet, if we’re going classic.”

“Already searched there. Where else?”

“You shouldn’t enable this,” Ben pipes up from the armchair, making a vaguely constipated face. “Can he even reach the top shelf?”

“I don’t know, he can teleport there,” he throws a pillow in his direction, hoping this is the kind of stressful situation to trigger Ben into being just a little bit solid. Klaus is not asking much. Just a little, just enough for the pillow to bounce off his forehead.

And because Five has about the patience of soccer mom in a department store, he does the equivalent of asking to see the manager. “Forget it. This is a waste of time, I’m going to ask Mom,” and pops out of there.

“You really should stop him,” Ben says, looking dubiously in the direction of the kitchen.

Another pillow flies. “Quit being a little bitch, Ben.” A pause, “he says, with the utmost affection.”

Ben rolls his eyes, but his lips twitch in a smile.

*

For the third time that afternoon, a teeny-tiny shadow falls over him.

“Klaus,” Five shakes his shoulder without mercy. “Wake up, you’re driving me to the nearest diner.”

“Klaus,” Ben echoes, sounding alarmed, but Klaus isn’t very inclined to be alarmed himself, because, see, in his experience, Ben is easily alarmed by things. Such is the nature of ghosts, he figures. “I really think you should stop him now.”

“Go away,” he says instead, turning away and hoping both of them would get the hint and leave him alone, “I can’t drive, go bother Diego, he can play taxi.”

“Everyone’s out and you drive like a maniac. It should work as a getaway car as long as you don’t crash it– do you think you can manage that?”

The words are processed in stages. First, Klaus is offended because come on, everyone knows he can’t drive, it’s not his fault. Then, he remembers the ice cream truck and yeah, maybe he’s got a point. Finally– “Why do you need a getaway car?”

Klaus’ eyes fly open and he jolts up into a sitting position, the pillow he had been hugging falling to the carpeted floor. Holy crap, he thinks, Five snapped. It was bound to happen, really, but the sight of a thirteen-years-old holding a sniper’s rifle is always a bit startling.

Ben shakes his head, burying it on his hands.

“I need a coffee,” Five says.

“Okay,” Klaus blinks, “are you taking me hostage?”

“What? No, I need you to drive me there and leave the car ready while I hold the diner hostage.”

“That’s– do you need money? Because I’m broke, but we can totally pawn some shit and–”

“Stop wasting my time, of course I have money! That’s not even close to the problem– do you know how hard it is to order a black coffee alone when you look like this?” Five gestures himself, the movement a little awkward on the account of his holding a gun bigger than his short body, but that doesn’t stop him, he’s clearly very passionate about this. “Very difficult. If anyone else asks me one more time if I want a milkshake instead,” he trails off, taking a deep breath, but the message is pretty clear because, you know, gun.

Ben is still muttering to himself, apparently checked out of the conversation. Which is great, honestly, leave it to Klaus to talk the tiny assassin down from murder. However possibly could this go wrong? “I think,” he says carefully, “there are a few steps we could take before escalating to homicide.”

Five closes his eyes as if praying for patience. “I’d kill for a decent cup of coffee,” he adjusts the rifle on his hand with frighteningly ease, “literally.”

“I can see that, yeah?” Klaus smiles, reaching deliberately for the gun. Surprisingly, Five gives in after only a couple minutes of tug of war. Again, all very safe and responsible. He sets it down on the coffee table after double checking if the safety is on. “That’s great, buddy. Now, why don’t we skedaddle out of here before Luther finds this and goes all self-righteous on us?”

“Luther can go–”

Shushing him with a finger, Klaus clicks his tongue disapprovingly. “Mind your language, young man. I thought I raised you better than that.”

“If I wasn’t short on bullets, I would shoot you right now,” Five informs him in a pleasant voice, like the darling family psycho he is.

“I know, and I love you too,” he gets to his feet, picking up his coat from the floor and Diego’s wallet from the table, after all, babysitting Five should always be a team effort. “Now come along, kiddo, tell me which waitress made you cry and we’ll guilt trip her into giving you some coffee.”

“Sometimes, I wonder if the apocalypse wouldn’t have been better.”

“Hey, I’m buying you coffee, you are contractually obligated to be nice to me.”

Ben, who had finally lifted his head from his hands, stands up as well. “I don’t know, isn’t caffeine suppose to stunt your growth?”

Klaus grins. “Yeah, he has a point. Isn’t caffeine gonna stunt your growth, short stack?”

“I should’ve sneaked out the fire escape,” Five sighs, trailing after him with a last longing look at the rifle.

[5sosbitchfest]

Why Crusty is the Legit Worst: A Masterpost

So I mentioned a while ago in an ask that I could make an entire masterpost dedicated to why Crusty is the legit worst... and here it is. This is going to be a very long post, so bear with me.

Let’s start at the beginning, shall we?

1. The racist/fatphobic/xenophobic tweets

Much before 5sos was involved, Crusty was one of those wannabe LA influencer/model people who tweeted shit like this:

Now, apparently she’s claimed that these tweets were faked and never apologized for them, but then again, when does she ever sincerely apologize? Oh wait, never. So, were these tweets faked or not? Well...

There are responses to the tweets on the left. Here are the responses to the top left one:

Jac Vanek was one of Crusty’s old friends. They’ve been photographed and tagged in the same photos together. So, sure, people could have found out they were friends and faked the tweet/response to the tweet. However, 1. how and why would anybody go that far, and 2. if you look closely, the screenshot with the other deleted tweets and the screenshot with the response look like they were on different phones (the emoji, font, spacing between the letters/lines). Two different phones, eh? It’s almost like the tweet was real and could be seen on multiple platforms! Wow!

In addition, the tweet was sent out on February 8, 2013. Here’s another response to the supposed fake tweet:

Same date, eh? And only less than an hour later! Who would go through so much trouble to fake the tweet, the responses, and even get it down to the dates that the responses were sent out?

Back to the first screenshot of all of her tweets:

The bottom left one had some responses too! Here they are:

Same date, a couple minutes later. Seriously, who would take the time to fake the responses down to the dates and times? It’s almost like... the tweet was real! *gasps*

Now, this response could possibly be one to the bottom right tweet:

The only reason why I’m unsure of this one is because the time the response was sent out was three hours prior to the actual tweet, not to mention the month of the tweet isn’t really distinguishable in the screenshot. Even so, the response looks pretty nasty, and I’m sure it was to an equally nasty tweet from Crusty.

Now, I can’t find proof of the top right tweet being fake or real, but I wouldn’t be surprised if it was, considering she has no problem saying “sleazy foreigners.” Of course, obviously, these tweets were deleted, which brings me to my next point.

2. She deletes tweets whenever she gets backlash, doesn’t apologize, and plays the victim card.

So back in September, she had a pretty epic Twitter meltdown (which is still up, she didn’t delete it), where she basically guilt tripped her entire audience, whether they “hated” on her or not.

Uhhh... sure. I agree that you never know what someone is going through, but 1. these “trolls” you see are usually fans with valid opinions and reasons as to why they don’t like you, 2. the constant use of ‘do you want to do this’ or ‘do you want to be that’ is playing the victim card so hard and blaming literally anyone who reads the tweet, making them feel guilty, otherwise known as guilt tripping. Y’know, something that emotional manipulators/abusers do? Yeah, that, and 3. she just HAS to make the whole thing about her. Notice how she says “your words affect me” and puts "and any other person you’re bullying” in parentheses. Notice how she says “you don’t know if I’m depressed, going through trauma, etc.” Notice how she says “do you actually want to inflict pain, hurt, tears, & hate onto me & others?” She tried so hard to be inclusive... and failed. The whole thing is about her, and she just kinda threw in some other terms to make it seem like some kind of positive message for everyone, when in reality, it’s just her being a whiny brat.

Not to mention she just threw Messy into the mix and shaded Arz. Which, lol. Arz was literally her PR client. It’s actually very likely that she was the one who put Arz and Luke together. Hm.

There was the time she pissed off a bunch of Kpop fans when she tweeted this and automatically tried to patch it up:

She probably saw how pissed people got and tried to fix it and make it seem like it was just a joke. Even still, people saw it as being quite fishy, and rightfully so. After all, it probably wasn’t a joke. And then shortly after, like a few weeks or something, she posted a link to a BLACKPINK song or something saying how good the song was. Ooookay.

Then we have the magazine fiasco:

Basically people were angry because a magazine cover came out that featured mostly Luke and the other boys were kinda off to the side. Colliscool is some weirdly famous 5sos fan who is another wannabe LA influencer chick, and of course Crusty is kissing her ass because it makes her look nice. Anyway, if complaining about a magazine cover is “standing up for what you believe in,” what about actually important issues, like racism or homophobia or poverty? It’s a fucking magazine cover. And while it’s hard to hear, Luke is the lead singer, so it only stands to reason why he would be the main feature, tbh. But once Crusty compared fans to Trump, she received backlash, deleted these tweets, and never spoke of it again.

Let’s not forget how a few days later, the whitewashed photo of Calum came out, and people were angrier about that and thought it more important than the magazine cover (which I agree with), and Crusty didn’t say anything on the matter. People were pissed that she complained about the magazine cover and not the whitewashed photo of Calum, but those fans gotta understand that unless it involves Michael, she doesn’t give a shit. I mean, with the past xenophobic/racist tweets... her not saying anything makes sense.

Then there’s the more recent ordeal with Cardi B:

She really thought her backlash was about Mac Miller not winning. And when a fan tried to explain why Cardi B is problematic, she went ahead and played the victim card again. For comparison, here’s how Debby Ryan, Josh Dun’s fiancee, responded:

Not only did she acknowledge her lack of knowledge, she handled the situation by engaging with the people who were educating her, asking them for more information, and thanking them for educating her. Meanwhile, you have Crusty, who’s all like “WELL HOW WAS I SUPPOSED TO KNOW I’M ONLY HUMAN” and... yes, Crusty, we’re all fucking human, but not all of us are assholes. She likes to tweet, delete, and yeet, as I like to put it.

And I’m going to put this out there for people who might try to argue with me: yes, I spent a good hour scrolling through her twitter to try to find any ounce of proof that she’s a decent person. I did find some rt’s and threads of her talking about mental health and racism (she was talking about the movie the blackkklansman and how it’s revolutionary or something along the lines of that), and she took part in that whole campaign last year to get young people to vote. Here’s the thing: yeah, those are good causes. But it’s really easy to seem like a good person online. It’s so easy to say things and not mean them. Also, just because someone may have liberal viewpoints or morals doesn’t necessarily make them a good person, especially if they don’t outwardly show it, which brings me to my next point.

3. She’s an asshole to fans.

That’s kind of a well-known fact, at least, to the people who can see past her bullshit. She will literally enter group chats with fans, get the twitter names of people who talk bad about her, and block them on her and Michael’s accounts. But of course, because she’s interacting with the fans, she’s seen as a saint because she’s just so sweet!!! And whenever people don’t see that, well, they get blocked. She checks her indirects, obviously, so if you so much as mention her name in a negative way, she and “Michael” will block you. Which is so fucked.

Remember when she was rude to some fans in Bali a few years back? If not, here’s the video. When people saw the video, of course she played the victim card again:

Oh yes, because coming up with a bunch of excuses, mentioning the fact that you’re “crying in lax,” and using a thousand emojis really expresses how guilty you feel. Kiss my entire ass.

But that wasn’t the end of that! When Crusty went to Bali earlier this year, she met up with the very fan she was rude to after she sent the fan this DM:

And of course, the girl fell for her bullshit because she got to meet Michael. She just had to make herself look like such a sweetheart before the big engagement! And sadly, it worked, the fan was happy, and Crusty was seen as a saint once again:

She’s even a bitch from southy’s account:

Like... what that person said wasn’t even that bad. Them breaking up is a perfectly plausible situation (if they were actually dating, lol), and yet Crusty literally cussed them out for bringing that up. Oof yikes.

4. The nature of her “relationship” with Michael.

Their first public interaction on Twtiter was back in 2014, when Michael was 18.

This was right before Michael turned 19, so Crusty was 29-30ish (?) at this time (who the fuck knows, I’ll get to that later). It’s not exactly known if she was 5sos’ PR manager, but she was ATL’s, and since 5sos and ATL had worked together, it wouldn’t be surprising if she actually was/is 5sos’ PR manager.

So before Michael, Crusty had been dating a guy named Spencer. Crikey’s timeline starts in January of 2016, where Michael posted this photo of them:

They were “dating” at that time, but neither of them went public until January 2017. However, Crusty continued to consistently interact with her ex Spencer on ig, all the way from January 2016 to May/June 2016, and it started to slow down after that, though she still liked some of his posts here and there. There was even an instance where Spencer sent her flowers in April, which... why would your ex send you flowers???

My belief is that Crusty was still with Spencer at the time she started “dating” Michael, technically cheating on him, and I have an idea in my mind that he probably got sick of it and finally decided to drop her. Which, good for him. After all, she left to be with someone eleven years younger than her just to gain money and fame. Yikes. And apparently there were rumors of her sleeping with Jack from ATL (when she was still with Spencer) when she was their PR manager... she liked to fuck her way to the top and didn’t give a shit about cheating on her boyfriend, I guess.

Now, I know the age gap is a heavily-debated topic, but here’s my stance on it: if the younger party is a full grown adult (I’m talking late twenties/early-mid thirties) when they start dating a person several years older than them, then sure, whatever. They’re basically full-fledged adults who are capable of taking care of themselves and have matured enough to a point where they can make rational decisions for themselves. Michael was twenty years old when he started “dating” Crusty in 2016. People make the argument of “he’s a mature adult he can do whatever he wants!!!” Um... in legal terms, yes, Michael is an “adult,” but twenty is nowhere near the age of maturity. I’m 19, and I know several people around that age, younger and older, who can’t make rational decisions to save their lives. Early adulthood is still a time for growing and figuring things out, and just because Michael is a famous musician doesn’t mean he isn’t still figuring things out. Also... do people know how Michael acted when he was 20? Watch him in interviews, I dare you to call him mature. I’m sure he’s mature in some aspects, but overall, he’s still a young adult who is still in a stage of developing maturity-wise.

So what does this have to do with Crusty? Well, with Michael being 20 when they started “dating,” that would make her 31. A 31-year-old woman dumping/cheating on her boyfriend (who was actually within her age range) to chase after a barely-legal dork from a decently famous pop punk group. Doesn’t that sound sketchy? In my eyes, she took advantage of everything in that situation: the fact she was a PR manager, the fact that Michael was young and naive, the notion that she would get more money and notoriety, and that Modest was probably in need of a beard, well... I’m sure she didn’t hesitate. For her, it’s a win-win-win situation. Just look at her! It doesn’t even look like she has to work that hard anymore, like she’s gone full LA influencer who gets sponsors up the wazoo and gets paid to be a beard. Her fucking dog is a walking advertisement (just look at southy’s ig page, it’s pretty much all sponsors). And no, I’m not saying she doesn’t work, but it seems like social media has taken up most of her life. And she barely even uses it for good/actually important issues. So there’s that.

Fun tidbit: she’s been working in the whole PR/entertainment realm since 2002. Michael was 7. Let that sink in.

Anyway, yeah, my point is that her “relationship” with Michael is pretty creepy. If the roles were reversed, that the younger was female and older was male, people would see it as creepy rather than “they’re both mature adults who can make their own decisions!!” 1. No, that’s a huge double standard, and 2. any time an older person goes after someone who is several years younger, regardless of sex, will always be sketchy in my (and a lot of other people’s) eyes.

5. She is a massive hypocrite in pretty much every way.

Oh, the positivity and sunshine her stans claim she spreads is more like a nasty downpour of hypocrisy and bullshit. Let’s start with this whole ‘spreading positivity’ thing she’s all about.

Crusty stans always say she’s all about spreading positivity and loving yourself and fuck the haters and blah blah blah. I already showed an example above of how she guilt tripped the fuck out of her audience, whether they support her or not. It wasn’t her trying to prove a point, it was straight up guilt tripping, especially because of how much she inserted herself into such situations. She could’ve worded it much differently that shed light rather than guilt.

And this whole being positive/loving yourself thing... well, that brings me to the age thing.

No one seems to know how old Crusty is. 34 is the mostly-agreed upon age, so let’s roll with that. It’s no secret she gets treatments, I mean, just look at this post:

She literally admits to it. And unfortunately I can’t find screenshots of her raving about the intravenous vitamin treatments among other things, but I do remember seeing them (if anyone has them, let us know!)

And it’s been shown she loves to use photoshop (not just on herself either). I mean, how could you go from this:

to this:

She doesn’t even look like the same person! If anything, it looks like she’s gotten younger instead of older... oh wait.

And she always does that pouty-lip thing, and I have a friend who says she thinks she sees lip fillers, which wouldn’t be that surprising. I mean, just look at this old picture of her:

Yeah, keep telling yourself that those lips are all natural.

Seriously... in pretty much every photo of her on her ig, she’s jutting her bottom lip out like it’s some duck face selfie from like, 2011. Please.

And her ass, well.

Here’s what we see:

And here’s some reality:

Bruh even Luke has a bigger ass than she does.

She posted a video on her twitter of her in the first picture saying something like “to all the people who think it’s photoshopped,” but y’know, it���s like... videos can be edited. Camera angles and poses can make an ass look bigger. Okay sis.

Fun fact: she deleted that picture of her by the pool, probably because people were making fun of how she literally had her bathing suit stuck in her ass. I mean, that’s what she gets for trying to make it look like she has one when she doesn’t.

Aaaaand here’s the heavy hitter:

When my friend saw this photo, she said that if she didn’t know Crusty was Michael’s girlfriend, she would’ve thought she was his mom. Y I K E S.

You can see the age literally everywhere. Her entire face, neck, and even the skin on her elbow in the second pic (it’s one of the first things I noticed tbh). And this was literally back in Bali 2019. You know, not even four months ago? Like damn, the sun really did her dirty lol. These pics are why me and many others question her actual age. She seriously looks like she could be in her forties in these photos, which, if she is, then her “relationship” with Michael gets even more fucked up.

Oh and she doesn’t just photoshop herself. You have this monstrosity:

Like what the fuck? Who are they trying to fool here????

And then this:

That’s a really... interesting ear.

So yeah, what part of Crusty’s face/body/everything is real? Not much! So, if she’s all about positivity, loving yourself, embracing your flaws and "fuck the haters" and whatnot, why can’t she practice what she preaches? You’re getting older, get the fuck over it and start acting like it, maybe start accepting it and stop getting treatments that will probably eventually backfire (like in the Bali pic).

Moving on from her looks, her entire attitude is just extremely hypocritical. I saw how she tries to preach online about mental health and how important it is to take care of yourself, and then she does shit like this:

So you’re just going to make fun of someone who’s struggled with severe drug addiction and eating disorder like that? She’s said on her twitter that her father was an addict, yet she’s going to make fun of someone who struggled with the same issue?

She’s considered a role model because she speaks out about this kind of stuff, including feminism, but let’s examine this a bit. This is her pinned tweet, and has been for a while:

Good message, yeah? Oh, but then she interacts with disgusting trash like Musty Collins:

Musty Collins, who puts on this whole sad boi~ act and then name drops 5sos to prey on underage girls. If Crusty’s so keen on empowering women, WHY DOES SHE INTERACT WITH A LITERAL PEDOPHILE WHO PREYS ON YOUNG GIRLS. Literally two of the most emotionally manipulative people in the world of 5sos. I guess that’s how they get along so well. They should just get together, but they wouldn’t because they’re too old for each other.

And of course it circles back to her fatphobic tweets. So much for empowering women.

Considering that spreading positivity is what she’s known for (besides being with Michael, yikes), it surprises me that she say something like this that goes against her entire spiel:

Uhh... sis, you are a fake ass public figure trying to get people to like you by saying random regurgitated greeting card BS online. Her ig stories are always screenshots of positive~ messages that are usually found on pinterest or some shit (not shading pinterest, don’t worry lol). That’s some greeting card BS regurgitation right there. Basically what this comment is saying is that she’ll only be nice to people who she thinks worthy of being nice to. A “realist” my ass. I’ve already gone over how “real” she is.

And then you have these ridiculous tweets:

“People are people no matter who they love or how old they are” “When did I say I was all about positive vibes?” Alright then.

I love how these tweets just SHOW how much of a hypocrite she is. Her entire “relationship” with Michael is shown through photos. Literally any time there’s a camera, she will take advantage of it and come up with an excuse to show off her relationship. Where’s the “human connection” you’re going on about? Oh wait, it’s not there, because their relationship isn’t real. Oops.

The second tweet.... just oof. She’s just tweeting about herself lmao.

I love how her excuse for her fucking up is just “I’M A HUMAN BEING WHAT ELSE DO YOU WANT FROM ME!!!” Girl, in case you haven’t noticed, we are ALL human beings, just not all of us are assholes when we fuck up. And then she goes on about how “we are all just human beings and we should all love each other!!” Yeah, it all comes back full circle, one of hypocrisy.

And this isn’t really a reason why Crusty is the worst, just some tweets I saw that kinda made me laugh:

“Luke who?” Oh I don’t know, the guy that your fiance’s actually in love with? HA. She wishes she could be Luke. It’s hilarious how jealous she is of him, how, whenever Lemon content comes out or the spotlight falls on Luke somehow, Crusty has to post about her and Michael’s relationship/engagement to get the attention back on her. Let’s be real, she’ll never be as gorgeous as Luke is, and Michael will never love her like he loves Luke.

So, in conclusion, Crusty is just a fake lying hypocrite. No amount of “this was in the past!! she’s changed!!” excuses will ever change my mind. After all, a lot of things in this masterpost were fairly recent. She might not tweet those horrible things anymore, but her old self shines through sometimes in the form of “I’M HUMAN I MAKE MISTAKES!!!” If she’s really changed, why doesn’t she show it?It’s because she really hasn’t, she’s just gotten better at controlling her social media presence. And that, my friends, is why Crusty is the legit Worst™.

[kwanisms]

CROSSING THE THRESHOLD - Part 4

Difference threshold is defined as the minimum noticeable difference that a person can detect at least fifty percent of the time.

⤑ genre: smut, angst, some fluff, Best friend!Jihoon, Neighbor!Jeonghan ⤑ pairing: Jihoon x reader, Jeonghan x reader ⤑ warning: sexual content, eavesdropping, masturbation ⤑ summary: You and Jihoon reconnect for old times sake, putting Jeonghan in an uncomfortable position. ⤑ word count: 4.6k

⤑ 01 | 02 | 03 | {04} | 05 | 06 | 07 | 08 | 09 

You sat at your kitchen counter the next day, laptop open expense accounts from various departments scattered on the countertop, your head resting against the cool marble. You had been going over these accounts trying to finish this report that was due Monday but you couldn't clear your head enough to focus. The familiar ping of your phone caught your attention and you unlocked the screen to see who dared to disturb your quiet morning. It was Jihoon of course.

Hoonie [11:27]: (Y/N)~ come over. I'm bored You [11:31]: What about Soonyoung? Hoonie [11:35]: he's out with Gyu. Come seee meeee You [11:37]: idk Ji, I got a lot of work You [11:44]: Ji? You [11:50]: Jihoon? You [11:59]: Lee Jihoon. Answer me now. Hoonie [12:00]: uwu pleeaase~? You [12:06]: …. I'm on my way

You stepped out into the cold weather and tucked your scarf further around your neck as you walked towards the end of the street. The walk to Jihoon’s apartment was hell because of the cold but you couldn't bring yourself to turn back. You continued your way through the bustling city as you made your way to his place. Stopped at a crosswalk a couple of blocks away, you pulled out your phone to check your messages.

Hoonie [12:26]: where are you? You [12:28]: I’m literally right down the street. Be there in a sec Hoonie [12:31]: okay uwu You [12:32]: uwu

You put your phone back in your pocket as the crosswalk signal changes and you start across the street. You keep your brisk pace until you notice some familiar silver hair up ahead of you, following a white cloud on a leash. You kick up your pace as you try to catch up. You were right behind Jeonghan now as you both reach the door to the building.

He held it open, not realizing it was you behind him. “thanks,” you say breathlessly, alerting him to your presence. “Oh, hello!” he says in a rather cheerful voice as you approach the elevator. “How are you?” he asks turning to you. “Cold,” you answer truthfully. Jeonghan chuckles and looks down to his dog. Today he's wearing dark slacks, a rather thick black wool coat buttoned all the way up and a wide brimmed hat. How did he always look so fucking good??

The elevator doors pinged as they opened and the two of you stepped on. “You spend a lot of time over here,” Jeonghan was the first to break the silence. “You might as well move in.” he chuckled. You shook your head. “I don't fancy sleeping on the couch,” you joked. He looked down at you. “Well, what about the third bedroom?” he asked and you looked up at him, confusion written all over your face. “There isn't a third bedroom,” you said plainly and Jeonghan gave you a smile, one that clearly said ‘I know more than you,’ before he answered.

“Oh, but there is. That apartment is a mirror of our apartment.” The elevator doors opened with a ding and you stepped out. “I'll see you around, (Y/N),” Jeonghan said walking down the hall to his apartment and letting himself in. You approached Jihoon's door and rang the bell. The door was thrown open and Jihoon dragged you inside by the arm. “Finally!” he exclaimed. He led you to the couch and you plopped down.

“Where's the fire, chief?” you asked jokingly. Jihoon sat down next to you and shifted, lying down so his head was in your lap. “Just let me lay like this for a minute,” he groaned, grabbing your hand and placing it on his head signaling you to play with his hair and you are happy to oblige. Running your fingers through his locks, neither one of you said much. It was moments like this that you cherished most with Jihoon. 

You didn't need words, you were comfortable being silent as long as you were in each other's company. You don't know when but at some point your eyes had shut and you were dozing off because Jihoon's soft voice broke the silence and your eyes fluttered open. “(Y/N),” he said barely above a whisper. You hummed in response.

“Do you ever miss me?” he asked, his eyes shut as you continued to stroke his hair. You didn't say anything at first but you knew what he was talking about. Deciding to play coy, you finally responded. “Miss you? I see you all the time Ji,” you chuckled. Jihoon's eyes opened and found yours. “You know what I mean,” and he was right. You did. Even though you don't say anything right away, he reached up, fingertips lightly brushing against your cheek.

He didn't say anything but there was a questioning look in his eyes. You did slightly miss the relationship you had once shared. It had been a while since your last relationship and the last time you were intimate with someone. “Sometimes,” you finally admitted softly. Jihoon sat up, turning to face you. He pulled you onto his lap. You tried pulling away but his hands held your sides firmly. “We shouldn't,” you whispered, his face inches from yours. “Why not? It's not like either of us is tied to someone.” His lips ghosted over yours to press a sweet kiss to your cheek.

“What about Squishy?” you asked, a soft sigh slipping past your lips at the sensation of his soft lips trailing across your cheek toward the corner of your mouth. “Hoshi? What about him?” Jihoon asked, his hands sliding down your sides and stopped at your hips. “What if he walks in on us?” 

You were finding it harder to focus on speaking. “He won't,” Jihoon smiled, his lips pressing soft, wet kisses along your jaw. You let out a tiny whimper when his lips met the sensitive skin of your neck. “Jihoon,” you warned as his hands skimmed the hem of your shirt. “(Y/N), please. Let me make you feel good. For old times sake,” Jihoon whispered, his breath sending shivers down your spine.

You involuntarily tilted your head to the side, giving him more access. “I promise I'll make you feel amazing,” he whispered again. You sighed, nodding your head giving him permission and he pulled you in for a kiss, your lips meeting for the first time in years. Your arms wrapped around Jihoon's neck, pulling yourself impossibly closer to him, chests pressing together. His hands slid down to your thighs, squeezing once before sliding back up, one stopping at the small of your back, the other cupping the back of your neck, deepening the kiss.

Jihoon was a very caring and generous lover you realized after your first sexual partner after him. He was devoted to making his partner feel amazing. Body worship, praise, sweet words of encouragement, cute nicknames were his forte. He never called you degrading names, hit you unless you asked him to but even then he was still reluctant to. 

Jihoon never rushed anything in his life, including sex. He took his time, touching you in all the right places, making you come undone over and over until you were begging for him to be inside you. “Time is patience, love,” he would whisper in your ear, his breath sending shivers down your spine. This time was no different, with you sitting on his lap, hands in his hair, his hands kneading your ass, lips locked on each other.

Jihoon bucked up into your core, a moan escaping his lips only to be caught by yours. The two of you had gotten off like this, grinding against one another, in the past when the thrill of being caught by your parents was present. Now however, you were two adults instead of two horny teenagers. “Ah, fuck,” Jihoon cursed softly when you rocked your hips against his, grinding down on him. 

“I need you,” he whispered, hands travelling up underneath your shirt, his fingers skimming your soft flesh leaving goosebumps in their wake. You grinded against him particularly hard and he let out a loud moan, resting his head against the back of the couch. Your lips moved down, leaving light kisses along his jaw, down the side of his neck, nipping at the sensitive skin.

“This needs to come off,” you said pulling back, your fingers playing with the hem of his sweater. He immediately ripped the offending article of clothing off, discarding it lazily. “This too,” you pulled at the white tee shirt he always wore under all his shirts. He discarded that too and is left shirtless under you. 

“Anything else, princess?” he had meant for it to sound sarcastic but it came out breathless. Your lips were back on his neck, trailing wet, soft kisses lazily along the skin before sinking your teeth into his shoulder. He let out a small yelp, bucking his hips up into you. You sucked light bruises into his shoulder where you knew no one would see them.

His hand cupped your breast over your bralette and you pressed into his touch, sighing. You pulled away long enough to rid yourself of your own top, leaving you in just a lacy bralette. Jihoon's hand dipped under the thin material and you gasped at the contact of his warm hand against your pert nipple. “Stop teasing me, baby,” he panted gently rolling the sensitive bud between his thumb and forefinger. You whimpered, grinding your clothed heat against his hard on the thin material feeling amazing against your clit. He moaned again, and withdrew his hand.

“I can't wait any longer, I need you,” he said cupping your face. “Please,” he added. You smiled.  “Patience,” you told him as you lifted off him, getting to your feet. Jihoon whined at the loss of your warm skin. You maintained eye contact as you slid your panties down from under your skirt, letting them fall to the floor before getting on your knees between Jihoon's legs. 

“Fuck, (Y/N), you can give me head some other time, right now, I need to be inside you,” he said pulling you up on top of him with one hand, undoing his pants with the other. He pulled himself out of his pants, lips attacking yours. You straddled his lap, positioning yourself over the head of his cock.

“Wait,” he said against your lips, hands holding your hips in place. “What?” you hissed, pressing short kisses repeatedly to his lips. “Condom. They're in my night stand.” You groaned loudly and shook your head. “No time, I need you right now. I trust you,” you said, eyes finding his. In them you saw something new. You and Jihoon had never had sex without a condom before. You watched as he pondered the situation before coming to the conclusion that he needed you.

Jihoon guided your hips until the tip of his member was slowly sliding between your lips. Your mouth parting slightly as a satisfied sigh leaving your lungs as you slowly sunk down onto him, the stretch of him better than you remembered. “Oh my God,” you whimpered when Jihoon was fully inside you. 

“Fuck, stay still,” Jihoon said, holding your hips in place. It had been a while. While you tried not to come just from the feeling of Jihoon, bare, inside you, he tried not to come at the sensation of your walls gripping him tightly. After a few moments, Jihoon guided you, rolling you against him and he groaned, his head falling back against the couch again. “Goddamn it,” he moaned.

“Jihoon,” you said in a shaky breath. “Ride me,” he said in a husky voice and you did. It didn’t take long until Jihoon was pressing his thumb against your clit to help you get off faster and before you orgasm he pulled out of you, prolonging his own climax to focus solely on you. “Jihoon, please,” you whined, his thumb fast at work on your clit. “I know,” he smiled. “I'm close,” you breathed. 

“Come for me, baby,” Jihoon said watching your face. Your hips stutter, thighs clenching, a moan falling out of your mouth as you orgasmed at his words. Jihoon helped you ride out your high until you shuddered from overstimulation. “Come here,” Jihoon said before lifting you off the couch and carrying you to his bedroom. “I’m not done with you, yet,” he murmured, setting you on the bed.

He stripped himself off his remaining clothing before turning his attention to you. He unzipped your skirt and slid it down your thighs. You sat up to allow him to undo your bralette, tossing it to the side. His lips attached to your neck and Jihoon guided you to lie back on the bed. He focused on one spot in particular, softly kissing, sucking, and biting on the sensitive skin at the base of your neck. You jerked your hips up, your soaked heat rubbing against Jihoon's still painfully erect cock. He groaned into your neck, the vibrations sending shivers down your spine.

Jihoon reacted quickly, slipping inside you and in one swift thrust, buried himself completely inside your clenching walls once again. The two of you lie there for a moment before he began to move, snapping his hips against yours sharply setting a rhythm only he knew. He pulled out slowly and snapped back in deeply. 

A soft cry ripped from your throat as he hit a sensitive spot. “Ji, please-" he cut you off with a kiss as he continued to thrust into you. “I know,” is all he said. His hips slow giving you a few shallow thrusts before pulling out completely. He turned you over on your stomach and climbed over your thighs, positioning himself at your entrance once again.

He glided into you easily and continued with deep slow thrusts. You could barely take it, you just wanted your release. “Ji, faster,” you pleaded and he chuckled, the sound low but he obliged, pumping into you a little faster. One hand on your hip, the other slid up your back to grab a fistful of your hair at the base of your neck and tugged. You moaned as your head was pulled back. Jihoon paused, his hand on your hip sliding under your stomach and pulling you up onto your hands and knees.

He resumed his motions, thrusting into you, deeper than before. A series of moans, intermingled with his name cascaded from your lips as he brought you both closer to climax. Jihoon reached around to rub circles quickly into your clit, bringing you closer and closer to the edge. He pulled out once again as you climaxed, your tired body falling to the bed as your arms gave out, unable to support you anymore. “Jihoon,” you softly whimpered. He turned you over on your back one last time before guiding himself inside you again and began his final assault on your core.

You cried out as Jihoon increased speed and depth until you were a panting, moaning mess under him. He buried his face in your neck, his hips snapping into yours. “Fuck, .....I’m close, (Y/N),” he moaned and you arch into him. “Don't hold back. Let it go,” you moaned, running your fingers through his hair. His thrusts become sloppier as he chased his own release. 

“Where do you want me to come?” he asked, but instead of answering him, you wrapped your legs around his hips pushing him further into you, your own hips bucking up to meet his. The sound of skin hitting skin is interrupted by your shrill cry and Jihoon's intense moan as the coil winding up finally snapped and he released into you.

He rode out his orgasm until his hips falter and he came to a halt, cock still buried nside you. You pushed his bangs back off his forehead, smiling up at him. He returned the smile, dipping down to kiss you. “Told you I'd make you feel good,” he pantef and you let out a shaky laugh. “That was incredible, Jihoon. Thank you,” you said in between breaths. 

“For you, anything.” Jihoon pressed a kiss to your temple and pulled out, his release mixed with yours spilling out of you. “I'm gonna have to wash these sheets,” he mumbled, heading into his bathroom. He returned with a wet washcloth and proceeded to clean you, wiping away any cum that spilled out of you. He smiled at you, thanking you again.

Jeonghan sighed, settling  against his headboard a, book in hand, ready to get lost in the murder mystery. He began reading taking in all the words, allowing his mind to create vivid scenes as if he were watching a movie. One of the things he prided himself on was his vivid imagination. The minutes ticked by as he read, seemingly lost in his own world until he heard it. A whine. At first he assumed it was Mi Cha who wanted up on the bed but Mi Cha was in her own bed. He heard it again only it came from behind the wall behind him. He marked his place in his book and listened. Another sound only this time, a moan. 

He recognized that voice. He knew he did. Who was that? Why was it so familiar? That's when he heard his neighbor's voice, muffled, “fuck, (Y/N),” and Jeonghan froze. You and Jihoon… were you fucking? No, no, no he told himself. You were just friends. Both of you had said so. There's no way you two were on the other side of this wall having sex. He didn't want to think about it. He tried to shut out the sound of his neighbor groaning. He didn't need that image in his head until he heard a female moan. Your moan. He heard how you sound and Jeonghan knew he was screwed. His mind ran wild, images of you lying on your back completely bare for him. Stop this. You can't imagine her like that. 

He tried to force the lewd images from his head, willing his brain to clear but he heard another one of your moans and he tried to contain a groan that was forcing its way up his throat, his erection growing, straining against the material of his sweatpants. “Ji, faster,” he heard you whine and Jeonghan closed his eyes, finally giving in and allowing his mind to wander.

He wasn't proud of himself, but he was unbelievably turned on and he slipped his hand under his pants, inside his boxers, fingers wrapping around his length. He hissed at the contact. He allowed his senses to drown in your mewls as he stroked himself, imagining it was you instead of his hand. As your moans grew in volume and intensity, his rhythm changed to match, pumping himself faster. 

Catching the drop of pre-cum at the tip of his member, he spread that down his shaft and focused his attention to the head of his cock. His hips involuntarily began to buck up as he stroked himself faster, timing his rhythm with the sound of skin on skin that now traveled through the walls.

“I'm gonna-" Jeonghan heard Jihoon say and Jeonghan’s breathing stuttered. He was close, too. “Don't hold back, let it go,” your voice said with a moan. He bucked a couple times more before biting back a moan and coming in his pants and all over his hand. He cursed softly when you cried out, Jihoon’s moan mixing with your voice as you both came. Jeonghan scoffed at the situation. 

He felt extremely dirty and so invasive. He got up to rid himself of his soiled clothes and decided to hop in the shower to rinse off, vowing he would never speak of this to anyone. After all, he had just pleasured himself to the sound of his next door neighbor fucking you, the girl he had been fantasizing about since he met you the day Jihoon and Soonyoung moved in. He didn't know how he was going to face either of you now that he knew what you both sounded like in bed. Hopefully, with time, this would all just go away. Hopefully.

Your eyes fluttered open, taking a moment to register your surroundings until you became aware of the body behind yours, an arm wrapped around your waist. You turned slightly finding a sleeping Jihoon lying behind you, his hair tousled with sleep and no doubt from your previous escapades. 

You watched him, your eyes trailing over him taking in his peaceful expression. At times you did miss being involved romantically with him but the strain the relationship put on you was just too much. His lips parted as a light snore passed through them from his throat. You couldn't help but smile as he continued sleeping before he closed his mouth and cleared his throat.

Jihoon's eyes fluttered open, adjusting to the low light filtering into his room before his eyes found yours and his face broke into a bright smile. You returned it as he rolled on his back and you rested your head on his chest and smiled, your eyes squinting az he yawned. “How are you feeling?” he asked, wrapping one arm around your shoulders, the other playing the fingers on your hand that was resting on his chest. “Fine. A little sore but,” you started, watching his hand toy with yours. “Otherwise fine.” You smiled up at him, Jihoon mirroring your expression.

“So uh, I was thinking before we fell asleep,” Jihoon said, nervousness on the edge of his voice. You looked back at your intertwined hands. “Yeah?” you asked softly. “About what?” You didn't meet his gaze. “Us,” he whispered and your heart sank. Oh no, not this. Not now. You mentally screamed at yourself to stop him but you couldn't bring yourself to speak. 

“I miss you. I miss us. I know we both decided it was in our best interest to end things what with our different schedules in college but things are different now.” His words fell out of his mouth and landed on you, crushing you and rendering you incapable of thinking of anything other than how to let him down softly without ruining your friendship.

This, sleeping together, was going too far, even if you already knew each other's bodies, best friends didn't fuck each other. They weren't supposed to. When you didn't respond, Jihoon continued. “What do you think?” he asked and you had no choice but to look up at him. His curious eyes searched your stoic ones. 

You panicked, trying to find the right words. “You know I love you Ji, but we ended things for a reason. There was too much strain on us and it was destroying our friendship. I love you and I don't wanna lose you, but I don't think it's a good idea.”

Jihoon nodded slowly, a smile finally forming. “No, you're right,” he cleared his throat. You smiled back but you couldn't stop your stomach from twisting with guilt. Jihoon had been nothing but great to you but you just didn't want to lose his friendship. That was more important to you.

You stood at the stove, Jihoon by your side slicing vegetables while you cooked the meat. The two of you, showered, your clothes in the wash and you wearing an old shirt of Jihoon's along with some sweats. Neither of you said anything but you couldn’t stop smiling. The front door unlocked and Soonyoung stumbled in, followed by Mingyu.

The two of them were laughing fiercely. You glanced over as the two looked up and saw you. Soonyoung's demeanor changed instantly when his eyes landed on you. “Hey, (Y/N),” he said breathlessly like he always did. You gave him a sweet smile as he and Mingyu wandered over to see what you and Jihoon were making. “isn’t that Ji's shirt?” Mingyu asked and you looked up.

Soonyoung, who had been admiring your face, glanced down at the shirt you wore along with the sweats. “Hey, those are his sweats, too!” he adds. Jihoon didn't look up. Mingyu, smirking, looked between the two of you. “so… best friends huh?” he asked his tone amused. You looked up at him. “Yes, we are best friends. I spilled soda on my clothes so they’re in the wash and I’m wearing these until they’re clean.” The smirk on Mingyu's face dropped. “oh, sorry.” He said and you shook your head.

“We already tried, Gyu.” Jihoon said, still not looking up. He finished slicing the veggies and handed you the plate before turning to the sink to clean up. You added more oil to the pan, pushing the meat to the side and added the veggies in, stirring them around. Jihoon wiped his hands clean and opened the cabinets. “Where are the wine glasses?” he asked looking at you. “Third cabinet from the fridge, second shelf.”

He moved to open that cabinet. “Thanks,” he said and pulled down three glasses and reaches for a fourth. “Are you staying, Gyu?” he asked his tall friend. “Oh, uh… uh sure,” he said and removed his coat, draping it over the back of a chair. Jihoon pulled a fourth glass down and closed the cabinet. He moved to grab a bottle of red wine.

“That smells really good, (Y/N),” Soonyoung said, standing up and leaning over to see what you were making. “Thank you,” you reply smiling and stirring the meat and veggies around the pan. “I think it's done,” Jihoon says pouring wine into the four glasses. He hands them off to Mingyu and Soonyoung and then handed one to you. You accepted it, bringing the glass to your lips and inhaling. You loved the smell of a sweet red wine.

Taking a sip, you smiled, enjoying the way the wine taste. After serving up the food, you took a seat between Jihoon and Soonyoung at the kitchen island. You asked Soonyoung and Mingyu what they got up to that day. They told you about the adventure at Mingyu's university while everyone was leaving for winter break. You all laughed, sharing jokes and stories.

You moved to collect the plates but Soonyoung jumped up and took them from you instead. “You cooked, you enjoy the rest of the wine while Gyu and I clean up. You smile and pat him on the shoulder softly. “Thank you, Squishy.” You turned to join Jihoon on the couch while he flipped through the channels to find something to watch. Soonyoung and Gyu goofed off at the sink, flicking water at each other. You curled into Jihoon's side and a deep satisfied sigh left your lips before you took another sip.

Jihoon's eyes fell on you and  he watched you until you turned to look at him. “Good day?” he smirked and you nodded, smiling knowingly. Neither of you said anything while the television played in the background. Mingyu called goodnight to you all and left. “Did you two do anything today?” Soonyoung asked and you inwardly smirked, knowing Jihoon was doing the same. “No, we just hung out,” Jihoon said, his eyes on the television. Soonyoung sat on your left side, settling into the couch as you all focused your attention on the show.

a/n: whoooooo. This had a lot of errors originally and was essentially a massive wall of text, but I fixed it! What did y'all think of that Jihoon smut? Eh? *nudge nudge* We aren't even half way through this story. As always, leave feedback as it is always appreciated! Thank you for reading and I hope you like it! ~K♡

[crappyfics]

Cherry Bomb [Part 2]

Rockstar!au / Chanyeol x Reader

Word count: 1 933

Pervious part / Masterlist

“What do you mean by ‘bandmates’? You’ve never told us about your acquaintance and we’ve been in the dark all this time!” Kyung was furiously yelling at me in the parking lot a few blocks away from my apartment building. There was no one with us, not even the rest of the band. They were all gone to their homes and even took Somi with them not to witness the discussion that was about to go down. 

“It is not like we’re friends anyway. We used to be in the same band a few years ago, but that was it.” I explain myself but he clearly didn’t think this was good enough explanation. 

“The way he talked to you tonight didn’t seem like you were just bandmates, Y/N!” He laughed unamused and brought his hand up to his hair pushing it back trying to calm down his nerves. It wasn’t the first time I saw him having a crisis but this time I did not exactly know the reason why he was freaking out. I could guess it was only because I was one of Park Chanyeol’s ‘old friends’, but it felt more like Kyung did not like it when the rockstar took me to the back door for a private conversation. 

If it was already complicated to explain how things were between Chanyeol and me in the past, it was even worst to try and explain what Kyung and I are in the present. I don’t know, it was some kind of weird open relationship that wasn’t ever serious or anything but we tended to ask for a commitment from each other. Our complicated relationship was only a stupid way of being together without ever letting our personal lives affect the band, which was our business. We never meant to go into deep, we never meant to fall for each other, but it was too late to go back when we always found ourselves tangled in the sheets and sharing dreams before going to bed. 

We liked to lie to ourselves too. We pretended that we were fine the way we were, that it really did not affect our band, that regardless of what would happen between us, we would remain professional. But Zack and Jin knew how close we were and how this crazy ass relationship was toxic. If only we assumed each other and tried to keep a balance without hiding and pretending to even our bandmates and friends that we were nothing, things would go much better. 

Me knowing Chanyeol and hiding it from everyone could be a parcel of our argument tonight, but to Kyung the big deal was when I left to speak to the big guy in a more private place because I used to be that close with him. 

“We only talked, Kyung.” 

“What about?” 

“I never hide anything from you, but this time please don’t ask me that.”

“And why not? We’ve been struggling for so long to have stupid gigs around town meanwhile all along you knew someone in the industry. You simply hid it from us that you had a passageway to the industry much easier than what we've been trying to do. I- I don’t get it! And now you can’t tell me what you and Park fucking Chanyeol were talking about?”

“It is strictly personal. I really hoped you could understand that.”

“No, I can’t, Y/N. I can’t! You wanna know why? Because now you’re not hiding things from the band, you are hiding from me and that doesn’t bother me, it infuriates me!”

“Chanyeol and I used to be friends. That’s all, Kyung! We barely still know each other. Telling you that I had a stupid garage band with him wouldn’t change a single thing because HE kicked me out of it!” his wide eyes now watched me surprised by the revelation. Who would ever think that me, a nobody, was once in a band with the biggest rock star in Asia and managed to get kicked out of the project? Oh well, nobody, not even Kyung saw that coming. “He would never help us get there, he would never do anything for me. He never did! Instead, he would steal our songs and make them his own!”

Pause.

It was cold outside but all the yelling heated our bodies. It felt like the thick coat of tension in the air was enough to warm us up. Kyung kept staring at me still agape not really knowing what to say. Me, on the other hand, I did know what I wanted and it was to go home. I couldn’t allow Chanyeol to destroy my career once again, especially now that he had nothing to do with it. I was tired from the concert and the fighting, I just wanted to stay alone, to go home and be by myself. I wasn’t mad at Kyung. I understood his point, or at least I tried. I just didn’t want to open up more than I’ve already done that night. It was enough for me to deal with the memory of Park Chanyeol alone. I didn’t wanna risk having other people reminding me of the guy at times. It was always better keeping it a secret.

“I wanna go home.”

I entered the car and Kyung followed me going to the driver’s seat and silently starting the car. The only sound we could hear was from the engines of the vehicle, we were both silent not really knowing how to approach each other at that point. I wanted to say I was fine and that we should forget about tonight, but I couldn’t forget the memory of Chanyeol’s tall figure towering me when we were both alone by the back door of the venue where the music was muffled and we could hear each other's strange feelings. 

Kyung kissed me goodnight before I left the car, but it wasn’t his affection I was craving tonight. I just hoped it all went away just like Chanyeol did and would do once again. 

I could hear the kettle on the stove dramatically announce that the water was boiling. I got up from the couch and ran to the kitchen to pour myself a generous mug of tea. It wasn’t any great medicine, no. But it sure would help me organize my thoughts better, maybe intercalate ideas between sips. I thought that it all would be weird once the band met again for rehearsal, but afraid of the truth, I stuck with the doubt. I avoided meeting the boys only limiting our conversations to quick and objective text messages.

The only one who caught me home with no difficulty was Somi. But knowing that I wasn’t on my 100%, she also avoided talking about my band's last gig. She did not really have a filter for social interactions, but she had a lot of respect for me and my personal space. Knowing that, I had no problem being at home with her because I knew she wouldn’t push my buttons. Not so soon. 

On cue, I saw my best friend come out of her room and join me at the kitchen table. 

“What’s up?”

“Been trying to finish my homework but I guess I’ll leave it for tomorrow.”

I only nod and shift on my chair giving her space to come and sit beside me. She poured herself some tea and silently we drank from our cups. School was Somi’s life. She woke up early in the morning every day to go to class and she came home late at night. She spent most of her day studying and if not, she would be at work trying to make enough to pay the bills. She would go out with her friends sometimes, but most of those times it was to watch my shows. But she was an ordinary girl. She had an ordinary life and that was amazing. Somi was very down to earth meanwhile I tried to believe I was as responsible as she was. I liked to believe that being a musician was my destiny, that I had a talent for no other thing in this world. But when your band is not very successful, and your talent is not well recognized by big labels, that’s when you have to question yourself and your life decisions. My tea was almost over but I still had no many thoughts I had to go through. I put my cup down. Maybe I should go back to school. Making music was not making much money, at least if I got a job as a waitress and went back to school I might have had a chance to succeed. 

"He asked me what I was doing,” I spoke up making Somi look up at me and try to understand the randomness of the conversation. She stared at me silently. “Chanyeol. He asked me what I was doing playing at a club.”

“What does that even mean?”

“He thinks it’s pathetic.” I moved to drink some more of my tea but I stopped midway remembering there was no more in the cup. I put it down once again. If a sigh could last 4 minutes, that was what Somi would hear from me in the kitchen. “Before that night, the last time I saw Chanyeol was in the garage of his parents’ house. It was after a show in a club. Back then he didn’t think it was pathetic.”

“Why did he even took you to the back door that night? To fucking mock you? What’s wrong with that guy?”

“I wish I knew.”

Ever since my last show, Cherry Bomb got quite popular around town. There were videos all over the internet, and on twitter, we gained so many followers. It had never happened after our show, but last time Zack checked, Byun Baekhyun, one of the Byun siblings, had posted a video of us on Instagram and things got crazy online. 

I wasn’t very fond of the virtual world but I could not deny its power. Zack was doing his best on updating all our social media accounts but things got a little weird and scandalous when rumors started popping out on our feed. Some comments on videos and photos were about “that girl and Chanyeol secretly talking in the back exit door of The Cave.” It was absurd. If they only knew Chanyeol was not being a flirt, these rumors wouldn't have spread so fast like that. 

As if I liked the martyr, when I heard from my bandmates that people were talking about me and the rockstar, I started accessing our accounts just for the sake of knowing what they were saying. Countless comments, countless lies, but also countless pictures taken of us talking so close to each other that from another angle it would look like something else. I was drowning in so much toxicity from the abusive posts, but I could not help myself from seeing them. It was all pretty stupid in the beginning until thousands of notification started appearing on our account.

@Park_CY Old friends reuniting. Fun times!

"OLD FRIENDS!” He literally said that! He called ourselves old friends for the entire internet to see. This was NOT what Park Chanyeol would ever tweet. ‘Old friends’ was not what we seemed to be that night. He called me pathetic, he mocked me, he was not friendly at all. Something was up and I had to find out as soon as possible before it was too late to protect my bandmates. 

Bridge chapter

[differentnutpeace]

India's All-Female News Outlet Battles Sexism, Caste — And Hits The Silver Screen

In a mud-walled house in rural northern India, Meera Devi sits across from a woman who recounts how four men broke into her house and raped her. หวย บอล เกมส์ กีฬา คาสิโนออนไลน์

"They [people in positions of political power or of a higher caste] can do anything. They can even kill us," the victim tells Meera, who's recording the interview on her smartphone. The woman's husband sits on the floor on the side, listening to the interview with a pained expression. He later says, "We don't trust anyone except Lahariya."

This is a scene from a new documentary called Writing With Fire which profiles Khabar Lahariya (Waves of News), India's only major news outlet run by women from marginalized communities. It focuses on rural reporting through a feminist lens and is led by chief reporter Meera Devi.

The film won the audience award in the World Cinema Documentary category at this year's Sundance Festival. It's directed by Indian filmmakers Rintu Thomas and Sushmit Ghosh.

Khabar Lahariya began as a small Hindi language newspaper in 2002 in the northern Indian state of Uttar Pradesh. Many of its reporters are Dalits, formally called "untouchables" — people at the very bottom of India's ancient 4-level caste system, that are considered by higher castes to be so impure, they should not be touched.

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The Indian constitution bans discrimination on the basis of caste but it still persists. Two-thirds of rural women and about half of rural men practice untouchability themselves or had a family member who did, according to a 2016 survey of non-Dalit Hindu adults in the Indian states of Uttar Pradesh and Rajasthan, conducted by the University of Pennsylvania and the Indian nonprofit Research Institute for Compassionate Economics. That could mean they refuse to eat with lower caste people or don't let them enter their kitchen, which is considered a sacred place in Hindu households. Untouchability is more common in rural India, where Meera and her colleagues live and report.

Lower caste Indians are routinely beaten up and even killed by members of dominant castes for marrying outside their caste. And 10 Dalit women or girls are raped every day across India, according to a 2020 report by the international rights group Equality Now and Dalit rights organization Swabhiman Society.

Attacks against Muslims and other minorities, including Dalits, have been rising since Prime Minister Narendra Modi and his Hindu nationalist party came to power in 2014, Human Rights Watch said in a 2019 report. In March, the research group Freedom House downgraded India's global freedom status to "partly free" citing increased attacks on minorities and a "crackdown on expressions of dissent by the media, academics, civil society groups, and protesters."

This is the environment in which Khabar Lahariya's journalists report on the brutal murder of a woman, profile a young Hindu nationalist leader and interview fellow Dalits about discrimination.

The documentary charts the print to digital transformation of the semi-literate newsroom — most of the reporters have had some, but not a great deal of education — and documents their struggles with the basics of the English language (which they need to know to operate the smartphones they use when reporting). It follows Meera and two other colleagues as they find workarounds to challenges like power outages while reporting, interviewing unyielding, patronizing elected officials. And all the while, many of the reporters' families are pressuring them to marry because that is what is expected for many women in India.

So what keeps them going? The answer might lie in the ending scene of the documentary in which Meera says, "When future generations ask us, 'What were you doing when the country was changing and the media was being silenced?' Khabar Lahariya will be able to say proudly that we were holding the powerful to account."

NPR's Sushmita Pathak interviewed Meera Devi over email in Hindi and translated her responses to English. The interview has been edited for length and clarity.

What is the biggest challenge for you as a female Dalit reporter in India?

The biggest challenge is being a female journalist in a place where journalism is not considered a woman's job. It's hard to be a Dalit woman and a less educated woman in a rural area. It's also challenging to have to question those who consider themselves upper caste, who are audacious and have powerful political connections and who may live in the same neighborhood as I.

You report about caste-based and gender-based violence and at the same time also face discrimination yourself. How do you tackle interviewees that try to patronize you or try to make you feel inferior?

I face discrimination every day, and not just because of my work. Sometimes it presents itself in formal situations and other times informally but overall, I have won this fight. A lot of times I feel like people try to humiliate me. For instance, when I go to interview government officials they don't answer my questions or don't answer what's being asked. They say,"go write what you want, we're not going to give you any answers."

Being a female journalist and a Dalit, Meera Devi is no stranger to discrimination and threats of violence. "I have got threats against my life. There have been threats against shutting down our newspaper. They raise doubts about my reporting and investigate if I'm really a journalist."

Black Ticket Films

I also face discrimination from male journalists especially while covering a news event like a politician's rally. All the media is huddled in one place and male journalists who consider themselves and their channels very important plant themselves at the front with their huge equipment and try to boss me around. Many times I have had to fight my way and jostle to get a good view. Sometimes I have to do my reporting from somewhere else, in the middle of the crowd for instance, to get a good scene. But being a woman is very helpful while reporting on women's issues.

[While reporting on caste-based atrocities] I am reminded of my own caste but I don't express it while reporting. Most interviewees don't know my caste. Sometimes they ask about it or try to guess if I'm Hindu or Muslim based on my dress.

What kind of harassment/backlash do you face because of your work? Have you ever felt fearful for your life or for your family?

There have been a lot of instances of intimidation. One time I interviewed a woman who'd filed a legal complaint against her brother-in-law. She says he stole her house. After talking to her, I had to get the other side, so I went to visit the brother-in-law. He wasn't home but an elderly woman who was there called him. In less than 10 minutes, two men riding a bike arrived. Soon there were several people on bikes, and they blocked the road. They started verbally abusing me and threatening to call the police. They accused me of trying to steal something and said, "if you are interested in photography, why don't you take photos of my bedroom?" They snatched my camera and deleted all the images. They stomped on my press card and copies of the newspaper. With great difficulty, I managed to leave the scene. I went to the local police station but they advised me not to file any complaint. Even today, I see the man in my neighborhood from time to time.

I have got threats against my life. There have been threats against shutting down our newspaper. They raise doubts about my reporting and investigate if I'm really a journalist. They intimidate and threaten because they are powerful. A lot of my colleagues have had mobs turn up at their homes and intimidate their families. They've caused our vehicles to be involved in crashes [by tampering or other means].

Now that we are totally dependent on technology, [because we publish online] this intimidation is out in the open for everyone to see, in the form of trolling. If we post a story critical of someone, the trolls start piling up. Technology has provided them with a platform. I am always fearful for my life and for my family.

The film charts Khabar Lahariya's transition from print to digital. What were the reasons for that shift? How do you feel about it? What are the technical challenges?

The transition from print to digital was essential for us. Not just because everyone else was moving toward digital, there were other reasons too. Printing a newspaper is a costly affair and selling the newspaper was challenging.

When we went digital, there were women in our team who were seeing a smartphone, touching a smartphone for the first time. It was surprising and amazing. They had to learn to operate the phones because their work [such as recording the interview and other videos] was done on the phone. There were a lot of challenges but we made it a success together. There were different challenges every day and with each one we learned to come up with new solutions. No electricity? We had a solution for that too.

There are many challenges that your all-female newsroom faces. But what is your biggest strength?

The challenges are our biggest strength. The values and objectives of our organization are our strengths. As women, we are each other's strength. We are an amazing group of friends who share all our joys and sorrows with each other, and not just work-related ones. Our rural reporting through a feminist lens and our unity as a team is our strength.

This film won an award at the Sundance Film Festival in the USA. Do you think viewers in the USA understand what caste is? How would you describe it to them?

I cannot say if viewers in the US understand what caste is but I know that there are Indian-Americans there. It is important to talk about caste-based discrimination, about the abuses of the rights that the Indian constitution has granted to us. It doesn't matter if it's American viewers or viewers from any part of the world. As a citizen of India, how can my life be separate from this?

You can watch Writing With Fire at the upcoming Hot Docs Film Festival, starting on April 29.

NPR correspondent Lauren Frayer contributed to this report.