#man the pandemic times were wild

[sanyu-thewitch05]

I’m sorry, but the bisexual to asexual(or aroace) train is wild.

More talk in the tags

[skyloftian-nutcase]

Outbreak Pt 1 (LU in Healthcare)

(Content warning: This is likely to hit close to home for everyone as it's essentially a pandemic fic told from healthcare workers' POV. It's as mild as I can make it, with the boys dealing with their usually lives and stuff, since I don't want this to be a drawn out fic, but still. FYI.)

It started like a whisper.

One case. A new illness, a variant of a disease that had torn through Hyrule's military during the war, had popped up in the outskirts of the Gerudo Desert. Someone who had traveled there recently brought it to Castle Town. But it was just one case.

Everyone had been put on alert with emails from the health department, but no one had really thought much of it. Legend had seen plenty of scares in the past - just as recently as two years ago, there had been another stir like this over a far deadlier disease, and nothing had come of it.

But this new disease--officially named Respiratory Failure Influenza, colloquially called Arfy by healthcare workers, and unofficially called Yiga's Revenge by the public given its point of origin and how it was tearing cities in the desert apart--was starting to make an impact.

To the world at large, the media would not stop talking about Arfy and stirring up the public. Inside Hyrule General, though, the staff was pretty calm about it.

"Who names a disease Arfy, anyway?" one of Legend's coworkers chuckled.

Legend shrugged and stretched. "I've heard worse. At least it's not based after somebody's name - I hated memorizing all those names for diseases. Nowadays the naming scheme's much better - respiratory failure influenza makes it pretty straightforward to figure out what happens."

"Preach," a tech who was in nursing school grumbled.

Time walked by as they chatted, and Legend nodded in greeting, throwing out, "Whatever reason you're here for, it wasn't me, my patients are fine."

The trauma surgeon smirked. "I'm not here for your patients, no."

Legend bristled. "Look, this is my first night shift, I haven't been working insane hours."

Time outright cackled now. "I was consulted for someone else. Relax."

"Good," Legend huffed. "Anyway, did you hear there's a case of Arfy in town? I haven't seen them pop through here, though, think they got diagnosed at an urgent care clinic."

Time hummed thoughtfully, growing serious. "Hopefully it just stays one case."

"Eh," Legend shrugged again with a noncommittal sound. "The media stirs everyone up. This happened last time, and it was contained and never came here."

"Arfy's cousin nearly killed me during the war," Time noted gravely. "Don't underestimate it too much. The fact that it's a brand new strain, and the typical medications for its cousin don't work on it, isn't promising."

"Look, I'm not saying it isn't something to take seriously," Legend argued mildly. "But it's isolated to three cities in Gerudo Desert, and then the one guy who came here. The media makes it sound like the world's ending."

"They tend to do that," Time agreed, looking down the hallway. "But in either case... let's just hope it stays as one case."

Wild wandered over at that point with an empty stretcher, having just transported someone to the floor, and both men honed in on him. He looked pale and distracted, but he somehow still managed to notice their scrutiny.

Wild watched them silently, not seeming eager to speak. So Legend talked first. "You want to explain what happened earlier?"

Time glanced between the two, brow furrowing in confusion, and he silently observed the exchange. Wild seemed to grow colder, crossing his arms, but Legend wasn't going to back down.

When his friend remained silent, Wild pressed, "Rulie said it looked like you had another absence seizure when we were dealing with that heart attack patient. Tell me what's wrong. Now."

"I didn't have a seizure," Wild assured them as Time took a protective step towards him. "Look, I just..."

The young man sighed, shriveling into himself further.

"Link," Time said sternly. "I understand you have a lot of things in your past that you're trying to reconcile. But not telling us led to you going undiagnosed and getting into a wreck that almost killed you. What's wrong?"

"When I have absence seizures, sometimes I just zone out. But other times, I get hit with... I don't know, I feel like seizures don't give you memories, okay? I don't think it was a seizure. It was a trigger."

"Trigger?" Legend repeated. "You got PTSD?"

Wild blinked, thought about it, and shrugged while shaking his head. "Probably not. Sorry. Bad phrasing."

"You have said before that you don't remember much of the war and your past because you sustained serious injuries," Time supplied. "I know you did. I operated on you. Twice."

"Sorry," Wild mumbled sheepishly.

"Just tell us what's wrong," Legend insisted as gently as he could. "What set you off?"

Wild was silent for a long time, and Legend almost grew impatient. However, eventually, he finally said, "I... I know the guy. The one who you were taking to the cath lab. I knew him be-before. Please, I don't want to talk about it right now."

Time and Legend exchanged a look, and the surgeon shook his head. Legend sighed, backing off. "Okay. But you're okay? Like physically?"

"Yeah," Wild answered, voice growing raw. Legend watched him worriedly.

"You know, you can talk to us," the nurse tried to say, but Wild shook his head.

"I don't want to talk about it," he repeated.

Time nodded, putting a hand on the young man's shoulder. "When you're comfortable, we're all here for you, okay?"

Wild stared at Time for too long, eyes watering, and he cleared his throat, nodding and walking away.

Legend bit his lip, swallowed, and looked back at Time. The surgeon was still watching Wild go down the hall. A call bell light went off, as well as a cautionary alarm on the monitors, and the nurse had to return to work, brain filled with too many thoughts and worries.

Time found himself far more nostalgic than he needed to be. Wild's words about his past, about the war, and this new virus that was kin to the one that had almost killed the surgeon were mixing together. He sighed, shaking his head. This all just needed to resolve.

He would keep an eye on Wild. That was the bigger issue than anything else.

It started like a whisper. But the roar of their pasts was coming for them, haunting and rumbling and demanding everyone’s attention.

[nausicaamusiclover20]

Hello)) Blame this on my grandma, I watched too many soap operas with her growing and we still do it 😂

So basically 2022 James x younger reader maybe she was his sponsor after he got out of rehab after 2019 relapse and she stayed him him during the pandemic (let’s pretend he divorced earlier than 2022, im not a home wrecker) and obviously it evolved into romance. Since he got vasectomy, they kinda weren’t very careful with protection, but it’s actually proven that these can fail, so she finds out she’s pregnant. Of course he doesn’t believe her and thinks she cheated and demands a DNA test. Having no options and feeling betrayed by his behavior, she moves out and they do a tests a few months later. Of course it comes back confirming he’s the father, but she also sends him something like NDA saying that she will never file for child support and will not disclose him as the father + the note that she doesn’t want to do anything with him as he betrayed her by accusing her of cheating. So the moment they have a break in tour he comes to beg for forgiveness? It takes her a while but she finds the strength to forgive him? And then she even joins them on tour and even goes to labour at the end of one of their shows (that’s actually happened with one of the fans)

Damn those TV shows did make sure my fantasies run wild 🫢

Don’t worry, how many times watching a series I made a lot of mental films (and it’s better not to know them🤭) I hope you will like it!❤

A New Beginning

I could still hear the echo of the accusations in my head, ringing louder than the sound of the tour buses or the distant crowds that gathered for Metallica’s show tonight. “You cheated, didn’t you? You couldn’t have gotten pregnant by me… it’s impossible!”

I closed my eyes, trying to suppress the flood of hurt that still rose in my chest every time I thought about it. I’d never cheated, never given him a reason to doubt me. I had stood by him through his darkest moments, through rehab, through the pandemic lockdowns when the world felt like it was falling apart. I gave him my heart, my love, my everything. And in return, he gave me distrust.

The memory of how we met flickered in my mind like an old film reel—those early days, before the weight of fame and fear crushed us under its heel.

I had been his sponsor after his 2019 relapse. A fresh face among the older, battle-worn members of the program, I hadn’t expected to be assigned to someone like James. I still remember that first meeting—how he slouched into the room, the weight of the world on his shoulders, his eyes distant, almost lifeless. His tattoos were visible beneath the sleeve of his worn-out leather jacket, and his hands trembled slightly as he held a paper cup of coffee, more like a shield than a drink.

He was a legend, a rock god, someone I had grown up listening to, but none of that mattered in that room. There, he was just another man struggling to find his way back from the brink.

I had introduced myself, unsure of how someone like me could even begin to help someone like him. But as the days passed, we found an unexpected rhythm. He was raw, real, and unfiltered, and I wasn’t afraid to call him out on his bullshit when he tried to downplay his struggles.

“You’re not invincible, you know,” I had told him once during one of our private sessions, my arms crossed as I stared at him down. He had tried to laugh it off, but I didn’t let him. “You might be James Hetfield to the world, but in here? You’re just another person trying to get better. And if you want this to work, you’re going to have to face the hard stuff.”

To my surprise, instead of pushing back, he had listened. Really listened. And slowly, over time, the walls he had built around himself started to crumble. We spent hours talking, not just about his addiction, but about life, music, and everything in between. I saw glimpses of the man beneath the rock star, the man who had been buried under years of fame and pressure.

The pandemic hit not long after, and somehow, through all the uncertainty and isolation, we grew closer. What started as a professional relationship morphed into something else—something deeper, more intimate. The nights were long, filled with shared stories and quiet moments where it felt like we were the only two people left in the world. And somewhere in the midst of it all, I fell in love with him.

He was still broken in so many ways, but I loved him for it. I thought I could help him heal. I thought I could be the one to put him back together.

But I hadn’t expected him to break me in the process.

Now, months later, here I was, sitting alone in the apartment I had moved into after his betrayal. The DNA test had proved him wrong, of course. The baby was his. But that didn’t matter. Not anymore.

I absentmindedly placed a hand on my growing belly, feeling the flutter of movement beneath my fingertips. A bitter smile tugged at my lips. He knew now, without a doubt, but I couldn’t bring myself to care about what he thought. I had sent him the NDA weeks ago, making it clear I didn’t want anything from him. No child support. No public acknowledgment. Nothing. It was his choice to betray me, to accuse me of something so vile, and I would never forget that.

A knock on the door pulled me from my thoughts. I hesitated for a moment, not expecting anyone. Slowly, I stood, heart racing for reasons I couldn’t quite place, and opened the door.

It was him.

James stood there, looking more worn out than I had ever seen him. His eyes were puffy, as if he hadn’t slept well for days, and his shoulders were hunched, weighed down by regret. His gaze met mine, and for the first time in months, I saw something I hadn’t expected—tears. He blinked them away quickly, but not before one slid down his cheek.

“What are you doing here?” I asked, keeping my voice steady even though my emotions were anything but.

He shifted nervously, his hands clenching and unclenching by his sides. “Can I come in?”

I wanted to slam the door in his face. I wanted to tell him to leave and never come back, but a part of me—a small, treacherous part—still longed for the man I had once loved, the man I had thought he was before everything went to hell. So, against my better judgment, I stepped aside and let him in.

The silence that settled between us was heavy, oppressive. I crossed my arms over my chest, waiting for him to speak, to explain why he was here after everything he had done.

“I’m sorry,” he finally said, his voice rough and low. “I’m so sorry.”

I didn’t respond. What was there to say? Sorry wasn’t going to erase the hurt or make up for the months of pain I’d gone through because of his accusations.

“I was scared,” he continued, taking a hesitant step toward me. “I didn’t want to believe it because… I didn’t think I deserved it. You, the baby… any of it. I thought it was too good to be true, and I freaked out. I messed up. I know I did.”

“Damn right, you did,” I snapped, my emotions finally bubbling over. “I gave you everything, James. I stood by you when no one else did, and the second I needed you, you turned your back on me. You accused me of cheating—like I was some random groupie. Do you have any idea how that felt?”

His eyes dropped to the floor, his shoulders slumping in defeat. “I know. I know, and I hate myself for it. I was wrong. You didn’t deserve that.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat, trying to keep the tears at bay. “Why are you here? What do you want?”

He looked up at me, his eyes brimming with emotion. “I want to make things right. I can’t take back what I said, but I want to be there for you—for the baby. Please… I can’t lose you.”

For a long moment, I just stared at him, the weight of his words hanging in the air. His lips trembled, his hands shaking as they reached out for me, and that’s when I saw it—more tears. They fell silently, streaking down his face, and it shook me to my core. James Hetfield, the man who never showed vulnerability, was standing in front of me, broken and pleading.

“You already lost me,” I whispered, feeling my heart crack all over again. “The moment you accused me, you lost me.”

He took another step closer, his hands reaching for mine but stopping short when I didn’t move. “I’ll do whatever it takes to make it up to you. I’ll spend the rest of my life proving that I’m sorry, that I love you.”

I blinked back the tears that threatened to spill over, torn between the love I still felt for him and the pain he had caused. “It’s not that simple.”

“I know,” he said softly, his voice breaking. “But I’m not giving up. I’m going to fight for you, for us. I love you. I always have.”

The vulnerability in his voice, the raw emotion, broke something in me. For the first time in months, I saw the man I had fallen in love with, the man who had been buried beneath his fears and insecurities.

“I don’t know if I can trust you again,” I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper.

James nodded, his eyes glistening. “I’ll earn it back. I promise.”

We stood there, both of us broken and scarred, but maybe—just maybe—there was a chance to heal. I wasn’t ready to forgive him, not yet. But as I looked into his eyes, I realized I wasn’t ready to walk away either.

___________________________________________________________

Months had passed since that heart-wrenching conversation, and though the pain hadn’t entirely vanished, we had started to rebuild—piece by fragile piece. James and I had taken things slow. He had apologized countless times, not only with words but with his actions, showing up for every doctor’s appointment, staying by my side during the hardest days of pregnancy, and fighting to earn back the trust he had shattered.

By the time the band’s tour kicked off, I had grown more comfortable with the idea of us—tentatively agreeing to join him for a few weeks. There was something cathartic about seeing him on stage, in his element, pouring his heart into the music. It was the same passion I had fallen for, the raw energy that made him who he was.

That night, the crowd roared as the band played their set. I stood backstage, watching James from behind the curtain. The energy of the performance was electrifying, but as the night wore on, I felt an unusual pressure in my belly. It started out mild, but soon a sharp pain gripped me. I pressed a hand to my stomach, my breathing becoming shallow.

I knew what it was. The baby was coming.

Another wave of pain surged, and I leaned against the wall, trying to steady myself, but it was no use. My knees buckled slightly, and panic flared in my chest. No, not now, not during the concert!

I winced, unable to call out over the blaring music and the chaos of the backstage area. The crew was bustling around, completely unaware of my situation. My vision blurred, but I managed to catch the eye of a stagehand nearby, my voice barely a whisper as I gasped, “Get… James…”

Her eyes widened in alarm when she saw the state I was in. Without hesitation, she rushed off, navigating through the flurry of activity until she reached the side of the stage. She tapped on the shoulder of the band’s tour manager, urgently pointing toward me, and within moments, a message was relayed to James over the in-ear monitors.

It didn’t take long. Within seconds, James glanced toward the side of the stage, his expression shifting from focused to alarmed. The guitar in his hands stilled mid-song, and the rest of the band kept playing as he tore off his in-ear monitors, rushing offstage toward me.

By the time he reached me, another contraction hit. I was clutching my stomach, struggling to breathe.

“The baby’s coming,” I managed to say between breaths, my voice weak. “Now.”

James’ face went pale. “Oh God, okay, okay… we need to get you to the hospital.”

He quickly helped me up, supporting me as I leaned on him, and together we moved through the maze of equipment and crew members. The sirens wailed in the distance as we made our way to the ambulance parked outside.

Once inside, James squeezed my hand tightly, his brow furrowed in worry. “You’re going to be okay. I’m right here,” he said, trying to keep his voice steady, but I could hear the tremor beneath it.

The drive to the hospital felt like an eternity, each contraction more intense than the last. James stayed focused on me, whispering encouraging words, but I could see the tears welling up in his eyes.

Finally, we arrived at the hospital, and I was rushed into the delivery room. The world outside faded as I focused on the task at hand, the pain consuming me but accompanied by James' steady presence.

 

After what felt like hours, the moment finally arrived. The cries of our baby filled the room, and I looked at James, who stood by my side, tears streaming down his face.

 James leaned down to press a soft kiss to my forehead, the weight of the past finally began to lift. The room was filled with the soft coos of our newborn daughter, and in that moment, I felt a warmth spreading through me—a mixture of hope and love that I had thought lost forever.

“Can you believe we made her?” James asked, his voice barely above a whisper as he glanced down at our daughter, who was peacefully nestled in my arms.

I smiled, my heart swelling with emotion. “She’s perfect.”

“Just like her mom,” he said, looking back at me with eyes full of adoration. There was a sincerity in his gaze that sent shivers down my spine, a reminder of everything we had been through together.

He gently reached for our daughter, and I carefully transferred her into his arms. The moment our baby was in his embrace, his expression softened, transforming into one of sheer wonder. He gazed down at her as if he had just been handed the greatest treasure in the world.

“Look at her,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “She has your smile.”

I watched as James became utterly enchanted, rocking her softly as if to soothe a restless heart. “But those eyes,” he continued, his breath catching in his throat, “she has my eyes.”

I leaned closer, gazing at our daughter, and my heart swelled with love as I saw the truth in his words. “You’re right. She has your eyes,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. “And your spirit, I can tell already.”

James grinned, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. “I can’t believe I get to be her dad,” he said, emotion pouring from him. “I promise to always be here for you, for both of you. I want to build a future—a real future—with you.”

A thrill of excitement raced through me. “Really? You mean that?”

“Absolutely,” he replied, looking up at me, his gaze steady and sincere. “I’ve learned so much about myself, about us. I won’t let fear or mistakes dictate our lives anymore. I want to be a family, to share every moment with you.”

As he continued to cradle our daughter, a soft smile spread across his face. “I can’t wait to teach her about music, to show her the world,” he said, his voice filled with warmth. “I want to be the dad who’s always there, who shows up to every recital, every birthday. I want her to know she’s loved.”

My heart raced at his words, overwhelmed by the love radiating from him. “I want that too,” I said, feeling tears of joy prick at my eyes. “I want to share everything—the good and the bad.”

James took my hands in his, his grip warm and reassuring. “Then let’s do it together. One step at a time.”

As he leaned in, our foreheads touched, and the world around us faded into a soft blur. In that moment, everything felt right. We were two people, imperfect yet wholly devoted to each other, standing on the brink of a new chapter.

“I love you, James,” I breathed, feeling a sense of peace enveloping me.

“I love you too,” he replied, his voice thick with emotion. “Always.”

With a renewed sense of hope for our future, we shared a tender kiss, the promise of a beautiful life ahead lingering in the air.

As he continued to cradle our daughter, he looked down at her with a mixture of awe and determination. “You’re going to be so loved,” he said, his voice a gentle whisper. “And we’re going to take care of each other, always.”

Together, we would face whatever came next—hand in hand, heart to heart, as a family.

[puckpocketed]

As someone who’s the go-to prospects blog in my mind, do you have any thoughts on Aron kiviharju dropping to the fourth round? The video the Wild shared after he got drafted is soo interesting to me

"Let me tell you one thing, man; you just made the biggest steal of the draft. I promise you that."

29/06/2024 - The Minnesota Wild draft Aron Kiviharju 122nd overall

Aron Kiviharju was supposed to go 1st overall.

Can you be a bust before you ever get drafted? Can the narrative miasma of going 1st overall linger on someone who went 122nd?

Kiviharju’s first game report from the 2024 EP Draft Guide is dated November 24th, 2019. He was 13 back then. According to them, no other player in EP's database — nor in any other draft guide this year — has had scouts' eyes on them so early, for so long. They say he understands the game beyond what's reasonable for a player his age, that he's always excelled while playing above his year level, that even though he's small and light there's something special about his game. Singular, elite, a phenom. This child is the next big thing. He is 13, 14, 15, he is anointed Boysaviour before his voice has cracked.

How many times have we heard this story before?

One day, Aron Kiviharju will be competing with and against players his age. And when that day comes, it might feel a bit odd for the defenceman. For years, ever since Kiviharju was young, he has played up a level, or two, or three. At age 13, he was playing U16 hockey with TPS Turku and, this past season, as a 15-year-old, he started with TPS’ U18 team before moving on to the U20 club. His numbers – 30 points in 35 games – would be deemed impressive for a 19-year-old forward, never mind a young defenceman who only turned 16 in January.

Steven Ellis' article on Kiviharju for Daily Faceoff, early September 2023, broadens the scope of public scrutiny even further:

Time travel back to 2022, and you'll find his name is printed right next to some familiar faces from this year's draft: Macklin Celebrini, Cole Eiserman, Berkly Catton, Ivan Demidov — except, they're all listed as possible challengers to his assumed throne.

And then, the accident.

The glaring flag on Kiviharju's draft profile, and across every report, every interview, and article since is the reality of his stalled potential. A scout’s job is to project a player’s future, but progress is rarely linear. What might halt a once-promising player's progress? Injuries and global pandemics and a poorly managed season or two; these things don't care for destiny. For every realised prodigy there are a dozen more who will fall short of expectations — this is something you pick up fast reading backdated draft guides and sifting through the history of the NHL.

In Kiviharju's case, the dislocated kneecap and the skate cut to the throat are the things most will write about. Behind the scenes, however, there were evidently other factors that contributed to his drop to the 4th round.

You see, every time I think I've escaped it, the size issue comes back.

The belief remains, however, that larger is better. I’m understating just how much it pervades hockey discourses: it’s present in scouting reports and has had measurable impacts on drafting; I hear it on professional and amateur hockey podcasts; it’s thrown out casually during interviews by coaches and fellow players. I can’t read or listen to anything about Faber without stumbling across it — the preoccupation with size. I’ll be very clear here: I’m not reading anything malicious from specific people, I’m not accusing anyone of crimes, and in no way am I implying that ice hockey is unique here. Just the opposite, in fact. I know professional sports hinges upon producing stars, that the commodification of young bodies is endemic to the business. Those stars are, stripped down to the basest definition, workers who perform with their bodies and sell their labour, whose bodies will inevitably be coveted and revered for their adherence to the Platonic Ideal of their respective crafts. For men’s sports, there’s something extra on top of the commodification of children’s bodies — it’s the vernacular of near-fetishistic worship; of the masculine, the oxymoronic youthful-but-mature, the virile. The language used to praise Faber and other young d-men like him has my stomach twisting in a discomfort that I find hard to quantify — players, coaches, and the media all talk about him, and the hockey blinders slip. He’s a “workhorse”, a “stud”, he’s got “a man’s body” — and call it projecting, call it reading too deeply into innocuous statements, but the closest thing I can compare it to is hearing my AFAB body spoken about as an object whose value can be reduced to its function, its usefulness, its closeness to sexual maturity.

Excerpt from the last time I wrote about a Minnesota d-man (sensing a pattern here).

Kiviharju probably would've dropped some places regardless of his injury and missed time; that's where the league is trending right now in terms of draft preference. When you're small, every mistake is amplified by your lack of size. You must be twice as skilled, faster, more consistent.

p. 595, The 2024 Elite Prospects NHL Draft Guide

Kiviharju's media appearances read like someone who is haunted by his draft stock despite his assertions otherwise.

Kiviharju's bold proclamation, caught on GM Bill Guerin’s hot mic, that the Wild just got "the biggest steal of the draft” will likely be associated with Kiviharju's rise — or perhaps his fall — as Minnesota media and fans work at their mythmaking. I don't know if I want to care about some hockey myths anymore. My appetite for them sours day by day. These myths were started by the eyes and hands and mouths of people watching a boy of 11 play hockey, who witnessed him and salivated at his unwritten future. Part of me thinks: I don't want to be complicit in their continued weaving — though I know I will be anyway.

I read what he says in the lead up to the draft and it's like he's telling himself as he tells us; that he will not care, because he is worth more than this.

From Kiviharju's draft day interview, transcribed by me:

Q: What's the biggest thing you learned about yourself going through the rehab process? AK: Kind of like... it's — life is more than hockey. Hockey is the biggest thing for me. I love the sport. I will do this for the rest of my life, for sure. First playing it, then probably I will continue with hockey after my career, so I've been always thinking like that, and I'm still thinking like that, but it's just that it's — more. Life is more than just hockey, there's a lot of things. And there's a lot of different things about myself, kind of like when you don't — if hockey is my fuel and I'm a car and I'm 200 days without getting any fuel, we have to find some new ways how to get that fuel, to keep my car going. - Q: How has your cut healed since U-18's? AK: Yeah so (he gestures to the cut right below his jawline) that was a pretty close one, but thank God we're alive. That's what I kind of meant when I said that this life is more than just hockey. So first you're 200 days without playing hockey and when you come back your first game the World Under 18's a skate cuts your throat open, so it's very close calls, and that's when you remember that this is only hockey.

Whatever happens, I want Kiviharju to hold on to this. Don't get me wrong, I'm rooting for him. In so many ways, he fits the archetype of players I enjoy. I want him to make it to the show and blow everyone's expectations out of the water and bring Minnesota the Cup. I love this team, even if I rarely post about them. Even still, whether he shoots into stardom or he washes out of the NHL, it doesn't fucking matter. It's only hockey.

And he is more than his ability to live up to our myths.

[missmielyhoran]

Amore, how do you think Y/N would react to those pics of harry and olivia's yacht? Even though I agreed to the stunt at first, I think I would go crazy and want to kill harry after seeing those pictures all over the place

Oh see would be pissed...

Warning- Angst, argument, accusation of cheating, crying, swearing, mention of pandemic, Olivia Wilde, Grammatical errors, fluff.

Not proof read sorry.

*****

Normally Y/N was a very chill person considering she was a teacher dealing with kids everyday she had a lot of patience.

But everyone has their limits and hers has been running thin for a while. You see it started when Harry got the role of Jack Chambers in movie Don't worry darling. He was happy, excited and so were you, it was a challenging role and that's why he loved it.

The filming started but due to the pandemic it shut down. It was the time when y/n and Flo became good friends. Both of them would cook, bake and try all type of different recipes together and sometimes even Harry would join.

Then the film resumed in few weeks, everyone tested and safe. She always had to keep an eye on the director though, it wasn't first soemone tried to flirt with him. Her boyfriend was the most beautiful man ever and that came with it's disadvantages.

Movie already had enough publicity by having Harry. His fans were going crazy about the role and set pictures.

She knew what the role was and how the plot went, well the originial one ofcourse cause as the filming went you started to see changes. The oh so lovely director decided to add herself in the movie which wasn't in the plot first but what's for you? It was her movie and it wasn't hurting Harry so you let it be.

But then one day the meeting and boy oh boy she wished she never went to that meeting.

You thought it was typical pr meeting called by Olivia and Jeff and to some extent it was but then.

"I think we should make a pr relationship" Mark, Olivia's manager said. Both you and Harry were confused cause Flo was engaged and Harry was in relationship with Y/N so who was it going to be?

"We have discussed it and came up with Harry and Olivia to get into a relationship" Jeff said looking at Harry. It felt like Y/N wasn't even there by the way he was talking.

"She's married Jeff what the fuck?" Harry said angrily.

"We are getting divorced and separated for a month" Olivia shrugged as if it wasn't a big deal.

"Doesn't matter. I already have a girlfriend" Harry said as a matter of fact trying to end that conversation right there.

First time since she went there Jeff looked at her, with annoyed expression. Rolling his eyes he sat up straight.

"Harry it will be good for the movie. Your fans love to talk and this will give them reason to talk, beautiful and older. It wilk eat it up" Jeff tried to convince Harry, "Also it wasn't like they know about Y/N anyway" He sat back.

And that was enough for her to run out of the room.

She thought maybe Harry would disagree but no, he agreed. Telling her it was just for show and when the movie is done he will tell everyone about them.

Now here she was months later sitting on their couch going through her private instagram when she saw the pics. Pics of them holding each other a lot closer than she would have liked but that was nothing compared to seeing him kissing her on yacht, the same one they went on the date.

When Harry told Y/N he was going to Italy to record she didn't think she would be there too.

Y/N felt like went through all the stages of and got stuck at Anger. She rarely got angry and mostly calmed herself down but that was unacceptable. She was seething as angry fat tears rolled down her face.

The door to the house opened Harry entering with big smile, hands filled with bags his put down near the door and took off his jacket. "Baby I'm home" He said walking inside only for his smile to disappear and get replaced with concerned frown.

You were sitting on couch, legs to your chest supporting your head as you cried. You lips were bitting red almost on brink of bleeding.

"Baby what happened" He quickly rushed to you sitting down in front of you. He brought his hand up to look at you and check if you have hurted yourself but you fliched and sat back.

Millions of thoughts went through Y/N's in between of Harry getting home and her finding the pictures and seeing him in front of her with concered sad eyes felt like a sick joke.

"Get off" she sat up putting her feet on floor. Harry stood up and sat in the loveseat. His brain realizing what had happened.

"You saw it" he mumbled quietly as if confessing crime.

"Ofcourse I saw it asshole. Was it not what you wanted?" Y/N screamed angrily. She stood up pacing around the room back and forth while Harry sat there like a child getting yelled.

He was feeling guilty a lot guilty. She trusted him with her everything and he broke it and now the love of his life was crying in front of him because of him.

"Baby Jeff said-" "I can't give a flying fuck about what Jeff said. Jeff is not my boyfriend you are" Y/N cut him off. Harry was stunned seeing her curse like that. He never saw you get mad so this was certainly new.

"If you wanted her you should have told me sooner Harry. I would have left, it would have broken my heart but you didn't have to cheat on me and break my trust" She stood there sobbing, her whole body felt weak, she felt like she would faint.

Harry's eyes widened when he realized you weren't mad about pics but you thought he cheated. Oh he was fucked.

"Oh no no. Baby I swear I didn't cheat" Harry quickly ran up to you and sat you down on the couch as you looked weak. He held you close as you sobbed on his tshirt.

"I wod never omg please don't think that" Harry held her tighter as if it woumd convince her.

Y/N felt relief of sort knowing he didn't cheat but still the whole in her heart wasn't filled. She was aching, her whole body, her heart. She was tired of giving, giving and giving there wasn't anything left to give now.

"Harry" She called.

"Yeah babe" He kissed her forehead making her shudder.

"I love you" she looked up at him with wet eyelashes. He smiled softly holding her face watching her melt into him.

"I love you too baby" He said pressing his forehead against his.

"But I can't do this" she said pulling away. Harry looked at her confused but also knowing where this was going.

"I can't see another photos of her with you or anyone as matter of fact. I can't be okay with sharing who I love with someone else" she stood up. Y/N wiped the tears off her face knowing her makeup was probably ruined.

"No no Y/N baby please" Harry begged, "It's just few months the contract will end and then there will be no one else but you and me" He held onto her legs, his face digging into her stomach.

She looked up to control her tears but to no avail. She ran her fingers through his hair and then pushed him back. His eyes were matching hers, red, puffy and filled with tears.

"Please" Harry whispered.

"I'm sorry"

And with that she left.

7 hours later

Harry spent most time crying on the couch where she left him. Holding onto himself, he cried his beart out knowing he was the reason she left.

Then he spent half hour breaking most things and punching hole in wall.

And when the sun went down along with his mood and adrenaline he sat on the kitchen island and drank away his misery.

6 hours later

Harry woke up feeling his body stiff and his head pounding. Be was sleeping on a hard surface that sure wasn't his comfortable bed. Opening his eyes was hard as the lights from windows were hurting his eyes.

"Y/N" He groaned, "Baby please close the drapes" He tried to roll over on his stomach only to fall down on floor. He groaned in pain and sat up slowly. That's when he realized he fell asleep in the kitchen last night with bottle scattered everywhere and the reason he was there was cause of you have left him.

He heard his phone ringing and he groaned not wanting to talk to anyone.

He picked his phone which was on tiled floor beside him. There were multiple miss calls and messages.

15 missed calls from Mum.

5 missed calls from Jeff.

1 missed call from Olivia Wilde.

But none from you. He opened his message thinking you might have texted him but no nothing. Only a single text from Olivia.

Olivia Wilde

Want to go to coffee? I saw a nice cafe near your house :)

He felt like he was going to be sick and he did. He stood up quickly and threw up in kitchen sink. He cleaned his mouth and decied to call his mum.

"Harry Edward Styles" Anne yelled from the other side, "I was worried about you!"

"Mum" He croaked out, "I fucked up"

3 hours later

Y/N was miserable to say the least. Harry was love of her life and now she had lost him just cause she was selfish.

But that wasn't true wanting partner all to herself wasn't selfish so she threw that thought away.

She was at a hotel drowning herself in wine and pity. She was just ending second season of AHS when there was a knock on her door. She did order pizza so she stood up on her wobbly feet and covered herself as much as could in a gown as she didn't have anything to sleep in and opened the door.

"Thanks for this I was dying starving" She chuckled. She looked up and saw the green eyes and that died down.

"What are you doing here?" She asked crossing her arms on her chest.

"Want to talk" He said softly, "Please" He insisted.

Y/N sighed too weak for him and his puppy eyes. She stood aside and let him in locking the door behind.

"These are for you" Harry said giving her favorite blue hydrangeas flower to her. She smiled taking the flowers from him and putting them down on table.

"How did you know I was here?" She finally asked.

"You used our joint account card while paying for this" He shrugged shifting awkwardly. She palmed herself in head for her stupidity.

"That's beside the point baby I just want to say sorry" He said moving closer to her. Y/N looked up seeing sincerity in his eyes.

"I called to Jeff and told him the contract was off, I don't care if they kick me out of movie I just want you with me. Please, I can live without that stupid movie but you, a few hours without you felt like hell" He said. Y/N was bitting her lips so she wouldn't cry cause she didn't want Harry to lose this film he worked hard.

"Harry I-" Sh goes to talk but Harry juat holds her and shakes his head.

"I know but I just want to know that I want you and if you will have my stupid ass back, I assure you I will try not to do something idiotic and hurt you" He pleaded, he was desperate if that point she asked him to get on his knees and beg he would.

"But if you don't want to that's fine. I will not bother you again" He goes to pull from her but she doesn't let him.

"First of all don't even speak over me when I'm trying to speak" she said cocking her hesd to the side, "And second, you're an idiot. A stupid dumbass." Harry forwns at her words.

"But you're my dumbass and I love you a lot so you're lucky" Y/N completes her sentence with smile.

He picks her up pushing his lips on hers, kissing her like a thirsty man finding water in desert. Their lips moved in sync, he ushered her to wrap her legs around him. After a while they pulled apart, heaving for air. Their lips glossy, swollen, stretched in widest smile.

"Might have to make up a bit more though" Y/n said pecking his lips. She squealed as he threw her on the bed.

"Oh I will do the making up just fine"

*****

Let me know what you think. If you want to request more or talk to me do it here♡

[formlines]

Reflection

Qwalsius/Shaun Peterson

from the website: As the saying goes, hindsight is 2020. Of course this references vision, but as much as I shy from these nuanced phrases, it’s inevitable. Not unlike the other phrase, “I wish I knew then what I know now”. Just before the pandemic I was setting on making–and still am–the work of my dreams. I always wanted to see the art tradition of the land I was born and have deep roots in recognized in a higher profile. Like roots, it takes time for a message to break through and connect. All that said, there were foundations that helped me get there, which are many.

In process of carving I have always been aware that the cedar I carve was alive, and from this place, and therefore sacred. It can be daunting to think about what you are shaping into something and be lead into paralysis by analysis. Which lead to my naming of this print as such. I felt it wasn’t easy to name something with complex reflection, which it is ultimately named. It is something that isn’t talked about often, but it’s not always clear what I am making as I am making it, or why it comes to be a driving factor for me to make it.

As a Native artist, I’m often asked about casinos and stereotypes of my culture. We are unfortunately not well represented or visible. To some, we are like unicorns in the wild, which is something I have finally made peace with over the years. In the end, we are human beings like anyone else, but with a unique history in the land of the free and home of the brave.

During the time of ‘lock down’ in the early pandemic, I was nervous like anyone else, but somewhat reluctant about how I could express it. I had worked on designs that could be looked at as a card deck, and from there this image shaped itself. Examining what our ancestors would think about how we live today, caught in a game of monetary values as a gauge of worth. Yet, all the while thinking of underlying values of the environment that shaped our culture.

Harvesting cedar bark from the trees to provide shelter and clothing is, or at least was, commonplace at a time. Bark pounded into soft fiber, roots woven into hats, capes lined with eagle down as means to literally remind us our connection to the land and its values. It was a different time and a different world in many ways. However, in time of isolation–which I have to do as part of my nature of occupation painting or carving–I recalled a powerful memory of a woman and man wearing cedar clothing, not entirely, but a hat, a backpack and eagle feathers crossing the street in downtown Seattle. It made me light up to know that they were not putting on a show or flaunting culture in opposition, but moving about as we all do in our daily lives.

Something about that memory made me put a pen in my hand and start drawing something from what was not comfortable, necessarily, but felt right to me. In this time of reflection I was thinking about the mask of this day we wear for function and not for show. Then, equally, how we put on a mask to show how happy we are when we aren’t, and how it took a pandemic for some to come to grips with this. I would be lying if I said this wasn’t something I wrestle with, but I’m no shaman, I’m no leader, I’m a product of my environment. I’m fortunate to have roots that kept me grounded here and I see the power of reflection in so many ways. Like anyone else, looking into my phone doesn’t tell me who I am or where I came from. No more than a screen does, or looking in the mirror.

I also wanted to depict somehow a modern reflection of a story of a man who sought fire for power so much that he had become it. Without humility, we give up more than we know. For some it is time, for some it is value, but there is resolution where lightning touches the water.

[jmdbjk]

Oh, Jimin...

These are my personal impressions, thoughts, interpretations and opinions on Jimin’s solo FACE album. Some of the things I say here are built on things I know from past original content, interviews and what Jimin has shared personally. Some of it is just me reveling in my first experience with Jimin’s long awaited album. 

It is such a serious album. Jimin said this is the story of what he was feeling, chronologically, 2020-2022, during the pandemic era. At the beginning of 2020, BTS was rising higher than any Korean artist ever had before and then all of a sudden the momentum came to a halt, and there was nothing. Having the life you’ve known suddenly jerked away from you is traumatizing. 

Once the king of social media, Jimin almost ceased by the end of 2020 and never went back. “Oh, he just outgrew it.” No, the man was struggling with his issues and not only did he not need to see the extra crap spewed all over social media but he had nothing left to give, nothing left inside. 

I noticed how Jimin looked physically back in 2020. He was downright frail y’all. The man was trying to give us what we wanted at the expense of his mental and physical health. That breakdown he had during the ending ments in Memories 2020 was too much. They were all stressed out, but Jimin... those that said he was being over dramatic... the man was struggling with his mental health.

I wrote this last June, 2022 but never posted it: 

After Memories 2020 dropped, we’ve heard Jimin say he struggled after everything got canceled. Days upon days that turned into months upon months and more than two years passed before they finally returned to in-person performances. He stated that during isolation and lockdowns he wondered what was the purpose of his life, or that he had lost his purpose.

Jimin’s struggles were most likely much more severe than he let on and he 100% kept it to himself because he didn’t want us to worry about him. That sounded like solo delusional projection but think about Jimin and how he’s behaved in the past...always telling us not to worry. Always saying things to reassure us that he’s happy, he eats well, don’t worry.

There was no working, no performing, their lives and his life changed drastically overnight just like all of ours did. Would we ever get back to normal? What will happen in the future? When will all of this end? 

Face-Off

The album opens with a carnival calliope, it was a little jarring and unexpected. The images it conjured in my brain as the notes played were of a worn out circus winding down. It made me think of the big wild circus that WAS his life, and it just wound down and keeled over. 

Knowing the premise of the album, I think the title, Face-Off, implies Jimin is looking at himself. Speaking to himself. The lyrics could also imply he is speaking to someone else, like people he once trusted. But I don’t think so. 

He was having a confrontation with himself. Reasoning and bargaining with himself.

Maybe he once trusted himself but in this time and place in which he finds himself, he questions what is he doing? and second guessing himself. Day in and day out, the days are all the same nothingness. Hiding his feelings, faking it, pretending it was all ok. It’s all cool. It’ll be all right. He has said many times he looks back at that time and thinks he could have done more for the fans. Being hard on himself. His own worst critic. 

And then this enters the picture: using alcohol to self-medicate. Getting drunk. Numbing the pain. Forgetting. Drink all night. Oh, Jimin...

We know he has a very high alcohol tolerance. He once mentioned that he used to drink a lot. When he declined the champagne during the live after the Busan concert, we all made jokes about it and moved on. Oh, Jimin. 

Face-Off feels like it could have been a purging song when he wrote it. A little primal, you know... just scream, get it out. Painful but cathartic. 

This is the lyric that was scary: “tonight is a beautiful night, I think I’m close (or I think I have it all/I think I’ve found myself)” were chilling to me because they did not come across as optimistic, they came across as being at the end of one’s rope after becoming a shell of a person. He follows that line with “tonight I don’t want to be sober.” Oh, Jimin. 

His vocals open very low and moody then transition to a plaintive cry, punctuated with anger. 

Pour it down, pour it out... the anger, the emotions, the words, just pour it out. 

Interlude: Dive

Like the calliope that sadly wound down, Dive opens with the melody slowly winding back up to speed. Another day starting. Someone knocks, voices, the ambience of a normal day, breathing, running footsteps. The crowd cheering and Jimin’s voice during his ending ments at the Busan concert, more sounds of people in his life. We hear Jimin’s footsteps trudging, it sounds like we hear him climbing steps, entering his house, closing the door, and first thing he does when he is alone in the quiet is pour a drink and drinking deeply. I am concerned. 

Maybe it is supposed to represent the closing of Chapter 1, about a day in the past that was once a “normal” day, since it included the last things he said during that concert.

The music track is dreamlike, repetitive. Living in a dream. Every day. Same thing. Go home. Drink. Do it again. Dive means go deep. In deep. He’s in deep. 

There is a very subtle line between drinking in order to make it through another day/night versus drinking to relax and wind down. A slippery slope to walk on every single day.

We’ve transitioned from the world changing overnight to living in a daze trying to pretend everything is ok. Coping.

Like Crazy

(I am going to express my thoughts using the English version of the song.)

Jimin has explained the song is influenced by the movie of the same name. 

I have learned that the dialogue from the movie was NOT original to the movie but hired voice actors specifically for the song: “I think we can last forever.” “I’m afraid that everything will disappear.” “Just trust me.” And at the end: “How long again?” “What’s the point?”

He has said the dialogue that was used fit the message of the song. I have not seen the movie. I don’t think the song is a literal interpretation of the movie. I think the song’s basic concept is the emotional struggle trying to maintain a dream. But maintaining a dream is unrealistic no matter what you do to try to make it last. Jimin had to come to terms with that.

Jimin’s vocals begin very light and airy, very dreamy. 

[God, he’s fine.]

The vibe of the song is sort of retro, very much evokes the artist, The Weeknd. It has a very 80′s synth beat. It is a very danceable song. Like I said, on the surface.... very dreamy.

Vocals transition and it still seems like he’s having a conversation with himself, or with a voice within himself. A voice telling him to “trust me, follow me... I will make it good for you.” Me: gives a side eye to that voice in Jimin’s head because now I know it’s not trustworthy. “I’ll take the pressure off, been reaching for the stars.” Chasing that high. Go easy, Jimin. Please be careful.

Yes, the lyrics are also very sexy... “give me a good ride,” and “Let me have a taste.” Yep, I’m with ya on all that... ahem... 

[Wow]

[side note: I love the make up in the bathroom scene with that stroke of silver under his eye.]

“All my reflections, I can’t even recognize.” ...what he sees of himself is not reality. He doesn’t recognize himself. Don’t try to save me. I want to stay like this. 

To me, the mud on the floor, the mud flowing down the walls, the mud on the hand that grabs his wrist at the beginning of the song, the mud on his hand at the end... could represent his perceived imperfections, flawed, therefore dirty: his struggle to cope, his less than perfect thoughts... substance abuse... the struggle that he needs to be perfect on the outside or the attempt to appear perfect on the outside but there’s all this dirt on the inside that he can’t hide any longer.....the huge pile of mud at his feet is out of place in the otherwise normal room of his life. Becoming overwhelming for him.

Some of the visuals of this song are, to put it bluntly, very, not heterosexual. Again, these are just my impressions and opinions. But a friend pointed out the photo on the front of his pants and I went looking for information about the art photographer, Robert Mapplethorpe. He was heavily involved in New York’s gay BDSM scene. Some of the things written about him: 

“In a rapidly changing society, he fearlessly confronted taboos surrounding gender, sexuality and mortality, seeking to instill beauty and dignity into subjects that lay outside accepted social norms.”

“... a man who consistently brought his audience face to face with the unknown and the unseen.”

The song ends with him reaching toward the camera to smear it with the mud to hide his imperfect self. When Jimin puts his face in front of the camera, he doesn’t want us to see his imperfections. He wants to be as perfect as he can, he says it all the time, he wants to look pretty for us, but I hope he has realized we accept him as a real human being even with his very human imperfections. 

Alone

The alarm clock goes off...yet another day...doesn’t trust the people even if they are nice to him...he’s lost...day in day out... passing out drunk and not remembering...what am I doing? am I the only one feeling like this? Alone, pretending to be ok...every day the same...how much more until I can go back to before? Feeling more and more isolated within his own mind, pretending to be ok but losing himself every day. Mayday. The cry for help. Telling himself it will be all right (we all told ourselves this back then). The small nagging voice that doesn’t believe it. 

Realizing you’ve changed and you are never going back to the way you were before. 

Not gonna lie, that line right there broke my heart. Gives new meaning to Set Me Free Pt. 2′s line: "raise your hands for the past me.” 

He was in so much trouble and no one knew. He reassured us over and over that he was fine. Not to be over-dramatic but I don’t want to think about how close he was... I have seen a few people say this song really resonated with them. It is a very powerful cry for help.

Jimin’s vocals blew me away. The vocals start out very subdued, almost beaten down. His vocal fry squeezes my heart. He ends crying out “what do I have to do to end this darkness?” Bad twilight. Night’s can be hard.

Set Me Free Pt. 2

From my post on March 17, 2023:

Going insane to stay sane. Raise your hands for the past me. Now set me free. This is where I literally cried. Oh, Jimin.

Going crazy trying to fake being ok. 

Now I know this song is about him saving himself, setting himself free from this prison he was in, the depression, breaking the chains of alcohol dependency, of telling the naysayers out there and his own internal naysayer to go fuck themselves, Park Jimin is back. Strong and beautiful and fierce. The light of the moon shining on us. 

We know he still considers soju his joy. He sounds like he’s taken control, not totally abstaining, but in control. I only wish the rest of his days are happiness and stable mental health well-being. 

Letter

So unexpected. I was in shock. My heart floated away. 

People talk about how Jimin’s album has no collabs on it, unlike the previous member’s solo work. My opinion is, when you are sharing deeply intimate feelings and emotions and struggles about yourself you don’t want or need other people/voices on your song. It’s not appropriate. 

The only exception to this was… Jungkook…not exactly a collab, but he’s there. The other songs used background vocalists who are not members of BTS. 

This song was hidden. Yes, there have been other hidden songs. But come on...

Letter has a strong stroke of Promise in the “oh, oh.” And when Jungkook starts singing it is like the world is set right because those two voices blend like nothing else I’ve ever heard. And he comes in in the middle of the song gently supporting Jimin’s vocals. But unmistakably Jungkook. I know it’s up to interpretation, but for me, the lyrics from then on take on something a little extra in meaning with Jungkook there singing with Jimin. 

You held your hand out to me and now I will hold on to you. So simple and beautiful. The sounds of the surf remind me of the song “Okinawa” that Jimin posted once. Which also reminds me of their pics at Santa Monica beach...

Letter seems to be an actual letter. When the members told him to write it down, put it in a song, maybe Jimin’s first impulse was to write it as if it was a letter. The lyrics are simple and very to the point and convey:

“...though I’m not good with words, I want to sincerely say let’s make each other happier. You who showed me I am bigger than my small self. You've been by my side and I will be by yours. I hope we stay together until the cold winter. Though the future is unknown and scary, let’s stay together. Never forget we’re together.”

There are references to past songs: Sea, Spring Day. Both of those songs were from 2017. 

But Jungkook. On a Jimin song. That was hidden. Clever. That we had no idea about...even though Kookie knocked us over the head with it when he played the guitar for us, making sure we knew he’d only had one lesson. Who do you think gave him that first guitar lesson? Jimin... and Kookie blurting out some English in his last live... who do you think he’s been practicing English with? Duh, Jimin. 

It was a hidden song AND the credits were hidden on the page in the book. They were printed in varnish only, which is basically shiny, clear ink.

You know what I think? Jungkook knew about this song since Festa dinner. The teasing about not being offered the chance to listen to the song. That little shit. I KNOW IT WAS THIS SONG!! I JUST KNOW IT!! This was the rumored subunit. Or at least one of them. I guess we’ll eventually see if there are any more between the others.

They sound so beautiful together. I love them. And as I keep saying, they are fine… they’ve been fine.

Last words...

Anyway, that was a lot of words. Maybe I got too deep. Jimin explained himself about how the album originated. 

As I was telling my friend earlier...everything in this album has peeled a layer, or several layers, away from EVERYTHING I've seen and heard from Jimin and the group since 2020. I had written some things in the past, like last June and even before that, about how Jimin seemed not well mentally. Things that I had no business saying in public because who the hell am I to think I can say something like that about someone I have never met? So I never posted those words. I never thought I would be so close to the mark in thinking those things. He’s been through it, wrote songs about it, and moved on. And I am so proud of him and this album. 

[raceweek]

Hey what happened in the 2020 season with Alex? (Sorry new fan and still learning)

omg you never need to apologise to me for not knowing things i literally know nothing

the 2020 season from the alexnation perspective was like being in a hamster ball being hurled around for 5 months straight basically but here’s the breakdown:

so for context 2019 was really really good for alex he was promoted as a rookie and he shunted a fair few times and most of the time wasn’t on maxs quali pace but red bull were the third quickest team so he wasn’t expected to win or anything. alex ultimately beat pierres points tally from his 12 races in the red bull within 7 as a rookie so like. whilst it was insane behaviour for red bull to promote him in the first place he did perform phenomenally

then we turn to 2020 pre season testing. mercedes was dominant as per (dreamy sigh) and the red bull was quick but looked. edgy. for both alex and max but ferrari were fucking nowhere so it was still like really positive for red bull bc it was basically two extra places gained and then. global pandemic. and then as a footnote to the whole you know. global pandemic. sebastian vettel was dumped from the love island villa (ferrari (everyone gasped))

and then! triple header one and the first race in austria had max running an upgraded front wing and none for alex and it was like understood i think like it wasn’t a big deal at the time

and then everything that could have possibly happened. happened. in the race and alex and lewis…yeah. but the world did in fact keep spinning!

and then alex got p4 in the second austria race (altho. significantly off of maxs pace in p3 for sureee) and everyone was like if only max had a rear gunner (wistful) which in my opinion is an insult to lewis and the w11 but whatever. nothing else really happened here other than horner and marko making kissy faces at seb during this time but that’s just contextfkdkd

so then the next race in hungary alex qualified p13 and even though max only qualified p7 and it was the third race of the season alex was getting eaten alive and george was on live tv like red bull are making him look like an idiot and he’s not an idiot and they need to fix it for him and it was like fucking hell what is going ONNN we haven’t even made it to the third race yet (like imagine anyone coming out and declaring this after australia quali this year like. wild scenes)

so then one week break and then triple header two started and during the races at silverstone they start talking in the media about when the best time to demote alex is even though the only times he’d finished outside the top six was brazil 2019 and austria 2020 which. pls consult youtube if you need further info here

they also changed alexs race engineer in silverstone so More turbulence altho completely welcome this time (simon rennie come back we love u, ur so sexc haha x)

then during the final triple header 2 race in barcelona he gets put on the most ass strategy known to man like with context this was criminal behaviour actually

and then one week break and then triple header 3 starts (do you feel like a hamster yet) at spa and unbeknownst to us all at the time but later confirmed by will buxton and dts horner is in the mf pitlane in spa propositioning seb like one more year and then you can come home which. have some decorum alex is behind you in the garage. but anyway in the general media everyone was gagging for pierre’s red bull return so there were bigger fish

anyway. SPA. they did this to my boy

and alex made the best out of it but as per the comeback kid episode of dts that everyone loves (🙃) alex was made out to be useless and it was like. wtf did you expect

THEN between spa and monza helmut marko was like oh btw alex hasn’t actually had the same parts as max for most races this year okay bye and alexnation was like…wtf. but then no one else really cared and it was like UMMM OKAY

and then monza happened and alex was in a first lap sandwich involving pierre and then second lap crashed into grosjean (alexs fault - live laugh love x) and had a huge chunk of his floor missing so finished p nowhere and then. pierre won and good for her i guess but then ex drivers were on live tv demanding alex step down for pierre which like no one has ever done this in the history of the sport as far as im aware so it was fucking savage especially when this was the first race alex had finished outside of the points for red bull in (with the exception of the two aforementioned events)

and then mugello wooooooooooooo!! alexs first podium!!!!!! i was gassed at the time but it was sort of sad looking back like if you listen to his team radio across the line from getting p7 in canada and then compare it to his first podium in mugello it’s. yeah! we were enduring it!!

and then sochi happened in its own weird bubble and alex was nowhere really got caught behind carlos hitting the wall at the first corner after a poor quali and that was that

then. triple header number four starts with horner giving alex an ultimatum of we’re backing you but we want results in the next three races or ur finished hunny which. okay

then first race of the triple header max ends up blocking alex in his quali run (live laugh love 2.0 x) and then:

YEAH

nurburgring was the they race me so hard incident. available to view elsewhere bc god knows im not reliving that!!

imola was again nightmarish. red bull media team said alex was working with a mental coach (patrick his trainer had got mental health qualifications basically) and was supporting him etc which. here comes paul di resta live on air laughing about how max wouldn’t need mental support. it was once again. brutal. especially bc he was getting a load of xenophobic abuse online already like fuck off

back on the track alex basically spun on his own but thought he had been hit and no one thought to tell him before he went into the media pen that he hadn’t actually been hit so it was fucking awkward and yeah twitter was brutal again

then istanbul happened. red bull looked promising but both max and alex finished well off so it was just whatever really lewis did a madness no one really cared about red bull

then final three races of the season started with the grosjean crash in bahrain which ended with alex on the podium and then checo won sakhir and alex wasn’t really there and then we were at the final race in abu dhabi where red bull officially signed checo (as confirmed by will buxtons analysis of the curtains. god i can’t believe this season was real)

but alex didn’t find out for like two weeks later when the season was well and truly over and was taking drinks to the factory for everyone and it was heartbreaking and then he didn’t have a seat and spent the next year saying it killed him so. yeah…TA-DA

[probablyasocialecologist]

Millennials and Gen Zs were raised to be entrepreneurs of the self, to believe that, if they simply worked and studied hard enough, success and security were waiting in their futures. Failure was a personal blight for refusing to invest their time wisely, for failing to grind hard enough. Post-2008, that dream was shot. You could work and work, but that did not mean that you would have job security and freedom from roommates by your mid-30s. Maybe this was what was meant by burnout culture. In the aftermath of the crash, middle-class people spoke of the death of the dream – the postwar ethos that, if you were willing to work hard enough and play by the rules, upper mobility and success were waiting in your future. If their parents had believed in climbing the ladder and just rewards for their hard work, this path was now closed to their children. These generations are also a product of the speculative environment they were raised in. Most of the day-traders were teenagers or children in the financial crash, or just graduating college. Fledgling adults in the COVID-19 pandemic. Born between the mid-1980s and early 2000s, their identity is shaped by the vacuum of post-communist politics (I, personally, was sent, age five, to a fancy-dress party styled as the Berlin Wall) or shaped by the speculation and excess of the dotcom era, or racked by the uncertainty of the 2008 financial crash. They’ve encountered the death of the American dream (or in Ireland, where I’m from, the optimism of the Celtic Tiger) and felt the withdrawal of the state’s contract in everything from mounting student debt to inferior healthcare to the rising cost of living. The postwar security and investment in public goods like education and housing their grandparents and parents enjoyed has been replaced by volatility and risk. Retail trading forums like WallStreetBets and NFT Discords are spaces where people trade crazy investment advice, but it’s also where they articulate their loss of hope in those same dreams. What replaced the fantasy of the good life? Dreams of prepping for life on Mars or in the metaverse? Of financial security through wild trades, or finding a good man to take care of you so you could leave the hustle behind? And who are these new dreams in service of? If the tale of hard work and upward mobility kept us yoked to our employers and our 9-to-5 jobs, the fantasy of the YOLO investment ‘Lambos or food stamps!’ keeps its subjects attached to the market. To risking it all. And these dreams feed the market, as in the crypto winter of 2021 where many vulnerable investors were left holding the bag, or the post-GameStop frenzy where, despite feelgood stories about David and Goliath, the significant profiteer was the market-maker behind the Robinhood trading app.

[xdirtyxlittlexgirl]

Parted

Pairing: Henry Cavill X Reader

Summary: He's been away for shooting for so long and you decide to surprise him on set

Warning: Fluff, Slight angst, and implied smut

You can't believe it's been four months since you last saw Henry. The time apart has been unbearable, and you miss him more than words can express. This is the longest you've been away from him. Especially after the pandemic. You long to be wrapped up in his arms, to hear his deep voice, breathe in his scent, and feel his warm touch. It's been especially difficult because he's been away, filming for his latest project, and doesn't get enough time to speak with you properly. Getting a five minute call every day is a luxury to you both at this point and it is driving both of you insane.

Usually you're not the type to make impulsive decisions, but waking up to an empty bed every morning has turned you wild. It was the morning after you had just ended your periods, and blame it on the hormones but you've had enough of the distance. You can't take it any longer, so you've planned a secret trip to surprise him on set. You knew very well that if you told him your plans, he would drop his work and make time for you. He was getting as crazy as you, probably worse because he lived on physical touch and contact, and he hasn't touched you in four months, which felt like ages to him. That was one of the primary reasons you didn't show him how much you missed him. He loved his work, and he was very good at it, and you didn't want to prove the media right by being a distraction to him, and keeping him from doing his job. So there you were, talking to his designer who was very close to you both, and would often give you exclusive updates about your man. He mentioned how sad Henry's been on set and although his managers would advise against it, he thought seeing you for a while might cheer Henry up, just a little. Finally, you traveled all the way to Wales, where he's filming a period movie, and you can't wait to see him again. Your heart is already pounding with excitement, laced with nervousness, and also a weirdly diffrent fear. This man has made you feel things you've never felt for anyone before.

His designer helped in and secretly brought you inside. As you approach the set, your heart is racing with anticipation. You've missed him so much, and you can't wait to hold him again. You make your way to where he's filming, trying to keep a low profile. You see him in the distance, dressed in vintage clothing, playing a Scottish king. Fuck. You feel yourself freeze as you finally see him. It felt like your eyes have been on a hunt for so long, and finally they feel satisfying gazing at him. You let out a heavy sigh you didn't know you'd been holding for so long. You feel your heart and throat get heavy and you can break into tears at any moment.

He looks so different in person now, even more stunning than he does in his video calls. He's grown that wild beard you so loved. His hair has also grown, now curling on the edges perfectly. His skin has tanned and that suits him beautifully. You can hardly believe he's real. You finally gather your now heavy body and slowly and silently approach him. He's standing facing his back to you talking to a girl in the scene. He's in the middle of a scene when you tap him on the back, surprising him. He turns around and sees you, and his eyes widen in shock. You can see him gasp as you yourself feel tears welling up in your eyes. He almost breaks down, and you can see the tears welling up in his eyes too.

"Holy shit, (y/n), is that you?! Fuck!," he says you just nod, and he gently touches your cheek, still making sure that he's not dreaming, as he then immediately pulls you into a tight embrace. "I can't believe you're here!" You're both overwhelmed with emotion, tears streaming down your faces. It's been so long since you've seen each other, and the reunion is intense. You can feel his heart beating against your chest, and you know that you never want to let go.

You both stood there holding each other for a good five minutes as he then pulls away and crashes his lips to yours. The moment you feel his warm lips touch yours, you feel your body light up on fire. It wasn't until the kiss that you realised how much your body truly longed for him. He was important to you now, he was your habit and you were his, and it was impossible for the two of you to stay away for this long. You're never letting go of this man ever again for so long. You both kiss for a while again and then he pulls away as the whole set cheers and Henry chuckles. He places his forehead to yours, you're already blushing red, as he gently strokes your cheek. "I've missed you so much my darling. So fucking much." he whispers as running a thumb across your lips. "I've missed you so much more Hen." you add as you both kiss one last time before the director ends your reunion, and puts him back to work. Although, Henry was very disappointed being parted from you again but seeing you there on set, had almost renewed his energy and he was bubbling with excitement. He hadn't felt this happy in a while and he knew it in his head that he never wished to be parted with you. You brought him happiness and peace and he wanted nothing more than that.

As Henry wraps up his shooting, he comes to you with open arms and pulls you into a warm embrace, once again. You both share a tender moment, basking in the comfort of each other's presence. He looks into your eyes and says, "I've missed you so much, babygirl."

"I missed you more, Henry," you reply, as he gently takes your hand in his and kisses you once more. He then leads you around the set, showing you every nook and corner. He excitedly points out the castle where they've been filming, and the nearby lake where they shot some of the most breathtaking scenes.

"The lake is just so beautiful, princess. You have to see it," he says, looking at you with an infectious grin. He was like a child so excited to see you, and proud showing you the work he's done there. As you walk around, he tells you about the history and the stories behind the locations, making everything come alive with his animated descriptions. His passion for his work is palpable, and you feel your heart swelling with pride and admiration for the man you love.

As the sun begins to set, Henry takes you to a rooftop of the castle's tallest tower that overlooks the rolling hills of Wales. The view is absolutely breathtaking, and you feel your breath catch in your throat. "I knew you'd love this, princess," he says, smiling at you with love and affection. You look at him, feeling overwhelmed with emotions. "Henry, this is just perfect. Thank you so much for bringing me up here." He takes your hand and wraps you in his arms, holding you close. You both look out at the stunning view, feeling the warmth of each other's bodies as the cool breeze brushes against your faces.

"Being away from you made me realize how much I need you, (y/n)" he says softly, looking deep into your eyes. "I don't want to spend another day without you. Please tell me you're staying with me baby." Your heart skips a beat as he says those words. You just nod and lean in to kiss him. "I won't leave baby. I'm here now. I'm here with you. I love you so much." you say and he kisses you once again pressing you gently against the balcony. The rest of the evening was filled with laughter, love, and pure bliss as you both soak in the magic of being together once again.

As you both retire to the hotel room, you feel a sense of calm and tranquility wash over you. The soft glow of the bedside lamp casts a warm hue over the room, and the sound of the gentle breeze wafting in through the balcony adds to the serene ambiance. Henry gently leans in and kisses your lips slowly working the zip of your dress. Within no time both of your clothes were a pile on the floor and he gently picked you up in his arms. You both keep kissing as he gently laid you down on the bed and straddled you not once breaking the kiss. You pull away a little just to breathe and Henry again smashes his lips to yours. Your hands go straight into his hair and you can't take enough of the curls. "You beard feels weird" you chuckle teasing him and he looks at you with a raised eyebrow, crashing his lips to yours again. You chuckle and kiss him. He then pulls away and snuggles up against your boobs, feeling the warmth of your body against his. He sighed in your arms and breathed in your scent. He was in heaven.

"You look so beautiful, princess." he whispers, his voice filled with love and admiration. You smile and bury your face in his curls, kissing his head, feeling your heart fill with love and contentment. "I love you, Henry," you whisper back. He holds you close, running his fingers through your hair, body, and caressing every inch of your skin. You both just lay there in silence, just enjoying the feeling of being together. You felt his body relax against yours, and soon he falls asleep, snoring softly in your arms. You smile and close your eyes, feeling a sense of relief and affection washing over you. You know that you're exactly where you're supposed to be, with the person you love more than anything in the world. As you drift off to sleep, you can't help but feel grateful for the amazing love and affection that you share with Henry.

The night passes and Henry wakes up in your arms adoring your beautiful sleepy figure. As you slowly awaken from your deep slumber, you feel a warm set of lips caressing all over your body. You open your eyes to see your boyfriend, Henry, smiling at you with such adoration that it takes your breath away. He leans in to place a tender kiss on your lips and whispers, "Good morning, beautiful." As you sit up and stretch, you notice Henry gazing at you like this is the first time he's laid his eyes on you. You feel his hand brush against your hair as he tucks a strand behind your ear, and he murmurs, "I missed you so much." Henry gets out of bed and stretches and you couldn't help but bite your lip seeing him. "Like what you see princess?" he asks for smirking and flexes his body. "Mm... Love it. Come back to bed you...." You look at him spreading your body and making grabby hands at him, giving him your best puppy face. The things you do to this man. His face changes a little seeing you like that but he shakes his head. "Mm... As much as I want to, I'm gonna go get us some breakfast."he says and puts on his sweatpants giving you a quick kiss. You pout but chuckle as you see him jog out of the room. You get up and stretch walking to the balcony overlooking the picturesque Welsh countryside. You stand there in just a white sheet, enjoying the cool breeze against your skin as you savor the taste of the morning coffee, which he has already prepared for you.

Henry silently stood there in the room admiring your sheet clad body in the balcony. You looked etherial. You hair gently blowing with the breeze, your skin smooth and shining and in the morning sunlight, your cheeks rosy, and your lips a little swollen and puckered from all the kissing. You looked like a goddess and all he wanted to do was worship you. Suddenly, you feel Henry's arms wrap around you from behind, his lips planting a soft kiss on your neck. You lean back into his embrace, feeling safe and loved in his arms. He whispers, "You look stunning this morning, my love." As you turn around to face him, you see the love and emotion in his eyes as he takes your hand in his as he keeps your coffee cup away. "(Y/n), being away from you made me realize how much I truly love you. I don't want to spend a single day without you in my life."

Henry takes your other hand in his and gazes into your eyes. "These past four months have been the most challenging of my life. But the one thing that kept me going was the thought of coming back to you, to your love, your warmth, and your beautiful smile." He pauses for a moment, taking a deep breath before continuing. "I've missed you so much, princess, and being away from you made me realize that you're not just my girlfriend. You're my best friend, my soulmate, the love of my life." You could feel your heart flutter and boil with emotions.

Henry's eyes fill with tears as he takes another deep breath. "I want to spend the rest of my life with you, (y/n). I want to wake up every morning with you by my side, sharing laughter, tears, and everything in between. I want to grow old with you and create a lifetime of beautiful memories together." He takes out a small box from his pocket and opens it, revealing a breathtaking ring, as he goes down on one knee, and you can feel yourself freeze in the moment. "Princess, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife, and tolerate me for the rest of your life? Will you marry me?" You feel tears streaming down your face as you nod, your heart overflowing with emotion. "Yes, Henry. Yes, I will marry you!" You say between a sob as Henry slips the ring onto your finger, and you both share a passionate kiss. You can't believe that this is real, that you get to spend the rest of your life with the man you love. You spend the rest of the day lost in each other, lost in the passion and the love that you share. And you know, without a doubt, that you'll never be apart for so long again. You know that this moment will forever be etched in your heart, a memory that you will cherish forever.

___

A/N: Please send in requests for both smut and fluff for Henry Cavill and Chris Evans. My asks are open!

[mariacallous]

“I am opposed to war, unless in self-defense.” This was the most-liked comment on Douyin—the Chinese counterpart to TikTok—in reaction to a speech delivered by Chinese Foreign Minister Wang Yi on Jan. 9. In his address, Wang previewed China’s top diplomatic goals for 2024 and emphasized “the unwavering resolve of all 1.4 billion Chinese citizens to achieve reunification with Taiwan,” a statement made just days prior to the island’s general elections.

The broader reaction to Wang’s remarks likely wasn’t what the Chinese Communist Party (CCP) hoped for: Tens of thousands of Chinese social media users responded, many of them with grievances, sarcasm, and defiance, widely questioning the costs of a potential war.

One man from Shanghai complained, “Who is going to fight the war? If I die, who is going to pay my mortgage or my car loan?” Wang’s speech framed “national unification” as one of “China’s core interests,” but as one user from Hunan rebutted, “[China’s] core interests are that every Chinese can be treated equally and have access to elderly care and health care.” The pushback went beyond economic and social grievances. Some posters were even bolder, suggesting that Taiwan’s democracy may demonstrate a political alternative to mainland China: “The fact that Taiwanese choose their own way of life,” said one commentator from Shandong, “might show that Chinese people can take a different route.”

The mood among social media users is a sharp departure from past elections. After almost every Taiwanese general election since 2016, a wave of pro-war fever has swept the Chinese internet. After Taiwan’s 2020 elections, for example, upbeat war enthusiasts in China produced oil paintings that illustrated wild fantasies of the People’s Liberation Army (PLA) capturing Taiwanese President Tsai Ing-wen alive after landing in Taiwan and forcing her to sign an official surrender document onboard a Chinese aircraft carrier—a scene reminiscent of the 1945 Japanese surrender that ended World War II.

In 2021, one of the most popular songs to go viral on Chinese social media was “Take A Bullet Train to Taiwan in 2035.” Its allusion to a high-speed rail line connecting Beijing and Taipei was a dog whistle to nationalist masses who hoped that unification was on the horizon—by force, if necessary.

Absent from these fantasies, however, was the blood and violence that accompanies real war. At the time, China’s star was rising on the international stage, and public confidence was riding high on China’s success in controlling the COVID-19 pandemic within its borders. As such, the sentiments surrounding unification and the use of military force were quite romantic; many people believed that victory over Taiwan would be easy, that the Taiwanese would surrender voluntarily if the PLA simply blockaded the island.

In 2024, however, things have changed. The most recent Taiwanese presidential election—in which the pro-independence Democratic Progressive Party (DPP) won a repeat victory—served as an uncomfortable reminder to the Chinese public that neither Taiwanese politicians nor voters are interested in Beijing’s plans for political unification. Although the forceful unification narrative still exists, any push from nationalists to reignite war fever has now run into a wall of skepticism following the DPP victory.

“Wake up,” one Weibo user wrote in opposition to the broader online calls for forceful unification. “Stop dreaming,” another echoed. The defiant voices are becoming a common reaction to the suggested use of military force to an extent rarely seen, given the massive culture of censorship on Chinese social media.

A clear reason for this change is China’s economic slowdown. While Taiwan went to the polls in 2024, China was grappling with a youth unemployment rate above 20 percent, a housing market crisis with sales down by 45 percent, and a stock market in free fall that lost $6 trillion in just three years, the likes of which haven’t been seen in almost a decade. News about Taiwanese elections failed to arouse the same nationalistic reactions among the preoccupied Chinese public that had occurred in the previous two contests.

Instead, the 2024 elections triggered a flood of complaints: “Sort out our own economy, what a mess.” a Shanghai resident said angrily. “Look at our stock market,” an apparently frustrated investor from Hunan grieved, “It’d be better to keep the status quo, and leave Taiwanese alone.” The gloomy economy has made some commenters question the underlying justification for war: “With low-income people making less than 1,000 yuan a month ($140), and the national insurance tax going up, huge medical bills, and unaffordable apartments, why do you want forceful unification? I don’t get it.”

“It is the economy that really matters,” another person from Tianjin pointed out. “[Taiwan] being independent or not has nothing to do with ordinary people.”

The changing attitudes toward Taiwan’s elections reflect a broader shift in public sentiment in China’s online space. Discontent about the country’s poor economic reality has been growing louder, drowning out calls for a military takeover.

Ironically, the CCP’s own past propaganda efforts contributed to this cooling effect. Right before Nancy Pelosi, then the speaker of the U.S. House of Representatives, visited Taiwan in August 2022, official and semiofficial rhetoric in mainland China was so belligerent that it led many Chinese to believe that the day of unification had finally arrived and that the military would shoot down her plane and launch its attack on Taiwan imminently.

This was the peak of forceful unification hysteria, but it only left its crusaders disappointed. In the end, there was not only no shootdown of Pelosi’s plane, but there also weren’t even military exercises conducted before she left Taiwan. Many Chinese, especially forceful unification advocates, felt betrayed and disillusioned by their government’s failure to follow through on its belligerent rhetoric, and the after-effects of this letdown are still being felt today.

During Taiwan’s 2024 elections, war enthusiasts were continuously reminded of Beijing’s military inaction following Pelosi’s trip to Taiwan. “Have you guys forgotten Pelosi?” one said. One commonly repeated joke, observing the lack of military action, scoffed that the only thing that was fired up when Pelosi visited was the stove in her hotel. The kinds of threats that once resonated with nationalists now drew widespread ridicule online: “delusion,” “talking a big game,” “an unrealistic fantasy,” and “all hat, no cattle.”

Meanwhile, at the other end of the Chinese political spectrum, the 2024 election prompted the resurgence of the view among many liberals that Taiwan’s democracy represents a desirable political model. In the early 2010s, many Chinese saw Taiwan as a beacon of hope for Chinese society—a liberal, civic, and democratic alternative to the one-party state. The liberal Chinese writer Han Han coined a popular phrase—“The most beautiful scenery of Taiwan is its people.”—that encapsulated the view of how trustworthy and free a people can become under democracy.

But after the crackdown on liberal intellectuals and online speech under Chinese leader Xi Jinping, the honeymoon did not last long and was gradually replaced by a climate of xenophobia, jingoism, war euphoria, and a longing for unification by force. Making matters worse, a growing nationalist mood in Taiwan led many to believe that Taiwanese looked down on mainlanders.

The 2024 elections, however, prompted a renewed interest from the Chinese public about their neighbor, home to the world’s only Chinese-speaking democracy. News about Taiwanese elections aroused great curiosity on Weibo about the nuts and bolts of the electoral process—what a ballot looks like, how many ballots one can cast, how votes are counted, and how candidates are selected. When a few Taiwanese Weibo users answered these questions, they were liked and retweeted by thousands of Chinese accounts, drawing genuine admiration and blessings from many.

“Are we going to see one day like this?” one user from Gansu wondered with a crying emoji. “Maybe this is accumulating experience for our own future: giving speeches, holding debates, and counting votes,” commented another, from Tianjin.

China’s shifting public sentiment is bound to have repercussions for cross-strait relations, but it would probably be a bridge too far to infer that the Chinese public will fiercely oppose a war in the Taiwan Strait. Ultimately, the nationalist base remains. At present, the euphoria about forceful unification is quieting down, mainly because the party’s over-the-top propaganda failed to meet the expectations of its most ardent supporters. But if aggressive rhetoric were followed by military action in the future, war fever could be easily fanned again.

Despite the prevalence of extreme nationalism, Chinese public opinion is more divided on Taiwan than it seems, and these divisions are only likely to increase. What concerns most ordinary Chinese are decent jobs, good income, accumulating savings for retirement, and getting affordable access to health care and housing.

So long as the economy is struggling and people’s livelihoods are threatened, there is no guarantee that the CCP’s attempts to exploit nationalism will work; quite the opposite, it could be faced with plenty of pushback.

[thepaperpanda]

A small bouquet || Joel Miller x fem!reader

Masterlist

Summary: when Joel presents you with flowers, it reminds you of the good old days when the world was different

Warnings: none

Word count: 532

Author: Fenrir

A/N: today’s prompt: presenting them with a bunch of flowers

"Even a simple roadside bloom is a creation of love, hopefully," Joel thought as he prepared a bouquet for his girlfriend. In the end, they were two people who had fallen to the wayside of society, on the edge of a world that was already in a state of decay. Since they had seen each other as unique and special blooms, he knew his lover would agree that this Valentine's Day bouquet was perfect, even though people stopped celebrating this holiday of love when pandemics struck. 

He met your worried gaze at the door after returning from work later than usual that day. "I was worried about you, Joel, are you okay?" You asked him, walking straight to the hallway to see how he was doing.

Your cheek was instantly rubbed with his calloused palm as his thumb slid slowly across your soft, warm skin. "It's okay, babe. I promised you to stay outta trouble, and that's exactly what I'm doing," he assured, his tone somewhat husky.

You gave him a look that indicated you were far from believing him. It was clear to you that Joel was prone to troubles of all kinds, even if he didn't intend to be involved in them. You tilted your head again after noticing him hiding something behind his back carelessly. "What's that?"

His lips curled in a small, shy smile before he replied. "I have something for you."

The intrigue level had now reached a new level. Without asking any more questions, you waited for him to show you.

In a hesitant manner, Joel offered you the messy bouquet he had hidden behind his back. "You once told me that you miss the ordinariness of the old world, so I thought I would bring you some."

It was hard to believe what you were seeing. Joel, the toughest man you've ever met, gathered some flowers for you, and to do so, you were sure, he had to leave the quarantine zone. “Oh, Joel! You didn’t have to!” The bouquet was quickly accepted and brought close to your nose to smell the sweet, almost nauseating scent of those wild flowers. You mused sweetly, "Is there an occasion for them? Or was I just a good girl? They’re beautiful though." Joel placed one hand on your hip with a sigh. "If not for the fungus, today would be Valentine's Day."

As you parted your lips, an almost audible sigh escaped your mouth as you accepted Joel's explanation. He was more than right.

He rubbed your back gently and pulled you closer to his broad chest without saying a word. "I don't want to sound like an idiot or a wimp, but I will love you unconditionally, regardless of how tough times get. You are the only one who keeps me going."

While standing on your tiptoes, you kissed his stubbled jaw. "I love you too. I appreciate this beautiful gift, it brightened my day. Let me throw them in the water." Before heading to your tiny kitchen, you glanced at him over your shoulder. "I am grateful you have given me some kind of magic that I had thought had been lost for a long time."

[popcornforone]

Professional

A Dieter Bravo Fan Fic

I for ages have been trying to write Dieter. One of my friends adores him as their favourite Pedro, & I keep toying with ideas & it’s never stuck, but today (8 August) for some reason it has & I’ve started writing him & I have spent the entire night writing him & loved every second. I think I’ve done him justice.

Synopsis:- Dieter has been nominated for another Oscar, & so is coming onto your critically acclaimed talk show ahead of the awards. The two of you just need to keep it professional.

Word count: 7800

Warnings: DO NOT READ IF YOH ARE UNDER 18. PIV mirror sex, mentions of drug & alcohol abuse, rehab, mentions of mental health & other illnesses & injuries including strokes, sex in a place of work, swearing, secret relationship,mentions of the mile high club.

Thank you all so much for reading this, I hope you’ve enjoyed this interview styled fic, all feed back is always welcome

“Lemons Laugh Longer than Leopards” you say into your microphone as you test it, walking into the room to do your interview. It always makes whoever the runner is with your coffee laugh, which then always makes you smile & then, because you are smiling, it will make whoever you are interviewing for the 30 minutes with series, automatically open up to you. This shouldn’t be a problem today though, todays guest you need to be professional & not be your true self.

The room is set up simply as usual. You usually make sure whoever you interview is offered a throw for their arm chair or cushion, but today with who you are talking to, you know exactly what they need. The two arm chairs & table set up as they usually would be. Black leather but not the kind that leaves marks or gets sweaty. One you can easily lean forward & make movements to show that you are in charge of the interview & that this is your talk show. You’ve come a very long way in no time at all. The pandemic suddenly saw your talk show viewership online increase dramatically. Your format always used to be remote before you started to make it big a few years ago, so you were all set up to just do it again, & then just send it to an editor & producer to adjust it, your much more professional that you were when you started, & your guests are now much more high profile & need less convincing then they used to, to spend 30minutes talking with you.

“Mr Bravo…” you stand up from your arm chair, as he walks in & extend your hand. He’s actually put an effort in today. So many times have you interviewed or seen this man just in his green Bath robe or in his sweatpants, his tummy hanging out. Too often have you seen the fall out from the nights of partying. But no today Dieter has a dark shirt on & some comfortable trousers. For him this is as smart as he will get for any interview. Only a red carpet or Oscar appearance will make him dress fancier.

“Long time no see” he cackles as he shakes your hand & you raise an eyebrow.

“Professional Dieter, remember…”

“Yes I know, I know, a lot of strings have been pulled yada yada, i get it I do, I’m trying to care & for once, I actually really am” that makes your smile even bigger as his make up is touched up & his own microphone is tested for volume. He’s trying to play this straight too. Your can tell by the look in his eyes as he removes his sun glasses to do the interview that this is him being genuine.

His hair is still wild which you can tell the people on your show aren’t happy about. You can hear them chatting in your ear piece that they will give your prompts for. But you & Dieter don’t want the internet to turn him into another meme. Baby chicken did make you both laugh previously but you want this to be an interview that will go down in history. That when people on youtube type in Dieter Bravo Oscar interview, in years to come, see yours as one of the top mentions, but for the right reasons.

“He’s here & has put effort in, knock it off” you whisper into your microphone, but you do it loudly enough that he can hear. You sit down in your chair & adjust your own outfit. Your tailored trousers & black jacket shine & gleam in their Prestine state, your silver heels look good with your black nail varnish on both your hands & feet. You’ve done that on purpose but no one except Dieter has noticed at all. Dieter has also noticed, that under that jacket there is no top, just a black lace bra.

“So much for keeping it professional” he mumbles under his breath as he sits in his chair. His mind now wondering slightly but then when he sees you casually smiling, he remembers he’s here to be interviewed, not look at how see through your lace is.

“Are you happy to start Dieter?” You ask as you tap your iPad on for your few notes, not that you need them, you know exactly what to ask the soon to be double Oscar winner. He gestures to the runner for a bottle of ice water which is brought over.

“Well maybe an extra hour in bed this morning would have been nice, but managers are managers & interviews have to happen” he smugly says as he checks himself out in the mirror to the side of him, making sure he’s happy.

“Did you look at roughly what I wanted to ask? I will deviate slightly, you know that, but it will stay towards what you were shown?”

“I know how your interviews go, we’ve done this a hundred times. it’s chill, I’m chilled you’re calm, we will have fun” Dieter winks & sits back in his chair. “Do your worst darling”

5,4… the count down starts in your ear ready to go & start interviewing the actor the world is desperate to hear from. You smile straight down the camera, take a deep breath saying in your mind it’s just Dieter & begin.

“Welcome to 30 minutes with… on this awards special we are talking to the current toast of Hollywood, the man who everyone wants to see on the big screen, the man who everybody has to talk to & get a selfie with. Oscar, Bafta & Emmy award winning actor Dieter Bravo. Dieter has been gracing our screens at home & at the cinema for over 20 years although he will still claim to only be 25. He claimed the lime light more in 2010 when he appeared in sci-fi thriller Beyond the Void, & has also stared in the movie The Letters & Flash Drive the HBO series. But he received global recognition for his supporting role in Your So Vein which won him countless accolades, including best supporting actor at the Oscar’s. Since then he has appeared in Cliff Beasts & now with his latest role in Isolations, he has once again picked up awards galore with the Oscar’s still to come in 5 weeks time” Dieter is very impressed with how professional you are reeling off all of his major achievements. Not once do you look down at your notes or an autocue, you do it professionally & in one take. He nods in admiration, which could be seen as him being proud of his own work but you catch a glimpse out of the corner of your eye that actually, those nods are all for you.

“Dieter, thank you so much for coming in to chat to us today for 30minutes, I know the world wants to speak to you but I just had to get in their first & you couldn’t really say no to an old friend could you?”

“The pleasure is all mine, I watch this show in my trailer on YouTube, me & you we go back to when you only used to have 5minutes with people” he chuckles. Dieter clearly has done his home work for the camera to show this is going to work, & be more than just the standard 30mins you get with other Hollywood big shots, & this makes you smile.

“Well you know more than most that I’ve come along way since then, much like you” you smile back, your trying to not let it show that you’ve known each other for longer than either of you care to remember, even before the 5minute videos, of crashing red carpets together. “So Dieter congratulations, another Oscar nomination, you already have a golden globe & a critics choice award for isolations, the BAFTAs are at the end of next week, how does it feel to get all this support & love for a role that’s gripped so many people?” You have to start with praise, you know that Dieter keeps things very close guarded in his life, both his troubled past & his private life. Buttering him up a bit might make him open up.

“Thank you, I know you’ve seen it, your not just saying that because you have to”, he starts off by shifting in his chair a little to get comfortable “getting the plaudits from your piers is always a nice thing. It always makes you so happy that you’re doing what you do. That it means something. But I do projects for me. I do it because it’s either something I’d like to watch myself, like Cliff Beasts, but I also want to do something that a challenge, you know. & sometimes the fans might be like the fuck has he made this or why is he a small part in that, but it’s just the way I flow, & I work. & when I find that grove I know if I’m putting in a good performance or not, & with Isolations it happened just as I hit the sweet spot in all the points in my life.” It’s a very honest answer from Dieter, probably one of the most honest answers anyone’s ever got from him & you on your little show have received it. Isolations might not just be changing Dieters life, it could be inadvertently about to change yours. Your producer however is moaning in your ear that Dieter swore, but you don’t care, they remind you to raise your hand slightly to tell them they may need to edit something for a of cleaner version.

“So are you saying that there are some performances you don’t give it all to?”

“Do you always give 100% every day?” He asks back accusingly.

“I always set out to Dieter”

“Well I always start to each project with that mind set. Some along the way you realise aren’t going to be your best piece of work, or you realise the story isn’t coming together, so then you just need to enjoy the experience. Have fun with the role.” You don’t press him he just follows on with “in 2015 I made a film called Above the Climb, it got slated, the lead in it Spencer Cable had to do so much damage control & took the flack from it. & we both sat there day 20 of filming going, this film is rubbish should we just have some fun & ad-lib some of this. The scene we did on the fly & the little side comments were deemed by everyone who saw it as the best parts of the film. We were proud that we made it enjoyable for others & we also got a kick out it” Dieter talking about Above the Climb in these terms is expected, but to be so honest about the process is so refreshing to hear an actor say that they don’t always have good days.

“I mean we can’t all be Tom Hanks can we & I can’t be Graham Norton” you joke & Dieter laughs. He’s always said you haven’t made in it life until you’ve got drunk on Nortons sofa for his Friday talk show, & he knows when this interview is done he will be hopping on a plane to do just that.

“Well you are my warm up for him.” Your banter & conversation is so organic. This is so natural to you both.

“That’s the best compliment any interviewee has ever given me” your smile is so genuine & so is his back to you. For all of 2 second you pause before realising you can’t stare into those deep brown eyes all day, & look at him twitch his pinkie ring. You’ve got questions to ask.

“You don’t like talking about your personal life anymore, but we all know you’ve had let’s say an interesting past…” you know your pushing the envelope here especially as he edges forward in his chair. Dieter has been known to walk out of interviews which go too far especially since the last Cliff Beasts film.”…in away did your past help you develop more of the character of Jackson in isolations? Was there any part that you thought could have been crossing between fiction & reality?” You’ve asked this in a clever way which he is impressed with. It’s not a oh how are you now off the drugs & the hundreds of crazy parties, you’ve asked it in a way where all he had to do is talk about the film.

“Jackson does embody some of my less desirable traits for sure. I had been off the coke since the end of the lock downs, the world saw my near death experience in the press. It was scary & I did after a while lock myself inside my head, my demons did try & take over, but it did take a lot of support & loyalty from the friends around me to get me through it. Those who really know me got me through & I listened to their stories of me & my trauma before I started filming. I got an insight as to what it was like to put up with me & that made me realise even more how much these people cared for me” Dieter isn’t showing off. So often in interviews Dieter is the show off, stealing the spot light. But here his vulnerability is showing. You want to portray him for the man he really is, be it the man with the ego & also the man who is behind the persona the world sees.

“Would you say there are people who you thought were there for you who then weren’t?” As you ask this you see Dieter raise an eyebrow. You have known Dieter for a while, you know the circles he frequents & those who have always used him for personal gain, claiming to be friends, clearly in it for themselves not caring who gets hurt along the way.

“A few, I know who they are, & I know they didn’t want their reputations tarnished, but now they all are sitting there not being interviewed by you” Dieter firmly says back. You know this is the end of this line of questioning based on his body language. You know which 3 people this is, & you gave him a chance to call them out. A more intimidating interviewer would press further for names & gossip, but you would like to keep the status quo with him so leave it there.

“No they aren’t, you are. & not only are you here but as an Oscar Nominee again, is there anything you are experiencing differently with a second nomination that to the first time” you face returns to a friendly one which he reciprocates.

“People take me more seriously this time on the consideration circuit”

“How so?” You look shocked at his answer. This is Dieter Bravo, a name the world wishes they could have even glimpse at their script or return their phone call.

“First time people thought I was there as like a reward for my hard work. That I didn’t deserve it.” You go to shake your head & interrupt but he stops you before your lips can even part. “You don’t have to pretend. I know you didn’t, but a lot of people thought I was there to make up the numbers & said my win was a legacy win. It was only before this film came out that those critics re assessed Your So Vein & went okay maybe he can act. I felt a bit more validated this time. It feels more just. I did deserve my other Oscar, I’d be lying if I didn’t say I would have been gutted if I’d lost, but I won. I’m a winner it’s what I do.” Confident Dieter is coming to the surface now. You know confident Dieter is a pleasure to talk to.

“You’ve always said Your So Vein was fun to work on even before you got your recognition for it, & you’ve already talked about having fun on set. Is there any film you’ve enjoyed working on the most or was there a particular actor or director that was more fun that you thought would be?” Dieter sips his iced water as you say this & his eyes light up, he likes questions like this. If he had a tail it would wag.

“I adored & had the most fun making Sunship the 6 part comedy tv show I made. I was killed off in episode 6 but it was so much fun & I love how it kept going on for another 4 seasons. But as far as movies Lyra Watson is hilarious. At no point did a days filming on Bookworm ever feel like work, we laughed so much, & you can really see that when you watch the film back. It’s not often you get to be a ditsy bank robber is it?” He starts to laugh at his own memories of filming Bookworm & then he winks at you. You actual had a cameo in that film as a writer who smacked him across the head with a book. Something that you should have been on set for 2hours for, took 7hours due to the fact you just both kept acting up.

“Well I’m gonna say nothing, I know what a blast that film was” you say. You’re trying not to laugh too & it’s the first time since you’ve started talking with Dieter that you look at your iPad to check where you are at & also to see how much time you have left. Plenty, you think to yourself & then continue.

“So when you look back on your career like we are today, is there a role you wished you’d done differently? Or is there anything that you think with the knowledge you have now, that you think actually…”

“Beyond the Void!” He answers straight away which shocks you , both in his actual quickness to answer & that he picked the thing that made him a well known actor.

“Really!?” You reply high pitched which he smiles at, before then repeating it calmly & more professionally for the recording.

“There is nothing wrong with my role or performance in Beyond the Void, but I wish I’d have been more prepared for how my life changed because of it. I was I naive & suddenly had all this fame & could do what I wanted. Everyone assumed I’d be fine.”

“So you’d want to warn your younger self?”

“Yes, I’d tell them to still act the same but I’d tell them no meth, no 4am orgys & no burger eating challenges. The life style & that level of fame was fun but it made me out to be much more of a party boy than I am” Dieter is being the most frank he’s ever been in an interview. Maybe it’s because it’s with you & the vibe you have together, but not even Norton would get this out of him. He’s giving you the goods & you aren’t even digging for them. You can hear the producers in your ear going his people won’t want this. But you know Dieter. If he’s said it he won’t want to redact things, he will want this in full to be broadcast to the world.

“That’s very honest of you Dieter, do you think due to this past, it allows you to be more honest now that you’re looking back”

“Can I just say thank you…” you raise an eyebrow “… you just said looking back & didn’t say mistakes. So many people say that I made bad mistakes that clouded my judgment, but I don’t regret it, I just wish I knew the effects of it even if it was like 5minutes before I took that drug or had to go have an std test. I would do it all again because it’s made me who I am & im happy where i am in my life. I like my slightly dangerous play boy reputations, hell I’ve got parts due to it, but I just wish I had a small warning. Mistakes mould us to make us better people.”

“Wow” you say out loud & it takes you a few seconds to register your reaction to Dieter revelation & you being a professional recover form it “so many people would sit there & say it was a mistake or say no I’d rewind the clock & change it, but for you to sit there after everything, especially your stroke, & say you would do it again, is almost inspiring. I’m not saying it’s okay to take drugs or have sex filled orgys…” your producers haven’t even told you to apologise for that but you know impressionable teenagers are a huge part of your audience especially on tiktok & Instagram “…but the fact that you are saying you have got through it & yes you can get hold of more help than others struggling with it, but it’s also easier for people in the public eye to relapse.” You pause. You take a deep breath & then share a personal moment between the two of you that the world doesn’t know, but will now.

“I was there the day of your stroke, I called the ambulance, I went with you to hospital, I sat there & watched you go through hell in your hospital bed & then in your detox afterwards. Everyone knows we know each other, & that we have known each other for years, long before we both gained the fame, we now both have. To see you in that state knowing my friend was struggling & was in danger, it was horrible. To see you now thriving, surviving, living, im not afraid to say that I am so happy each time I see you.” Dieter can hear the emotion in your voice. You’ve always told him how happy & proud you were of him now, but you’ve never gone into that much detail about it & you’ve just talked about it for the world to hear. He puts his hand on his chest showing his anxiety at what you’ve just said & you copy him. There’s a few moments of unspoken silence between the two of you, before you calmly & professionally continue your professional interview with your close friend. You will always be there for each other.

“You aren’t on twitter anymore, but you do promote self care a lot on Instagram. Because, like you have been in the last few minutes, been so honest about your struggles do you see yourself as a mental health advocate?”

“Not really” Dieters voice sounds a bit pitched, he was clearly moved by your supporting words a minute ago. “I just want people to look after themselves & realise it’s okay not to be okay & that if they want to talk people out there will listen & if they want help it’s okay to ask for it. But if they don’t, the world needs to understand people deal with it differently” he runs his hand through this untamed hair as he says this. Watching that large hand go through his locks always to this day always catches you off guard.

“Do you think talking about your own struggles helps?”

“Yes. I like to talk. I know I give off the bad party boy style, but talking even if it’s just going urgh my life or being honest that you’re not enjoying something is important. Sometime you just need to cut the bullshit out” you nod in agreement while waving your finger in the way of the editing booth. His swear words will need bleeping unfortunately despite you & your audience knowing exactly what he will be saying.The producer in your ear sounds happy that you picked that up this time.

“Do you see yourself as an Instagram influencer?”

“Ha” he cackles & you snigger too, you know he hates that phrase. You always pick on him for what he puts on there or mucking up his stories or taking a selfie that’s a video. “I hate that word. Influence haha. Freeloaders more like. Oh it’s all got to be on Instagram or it didn’t happen. I know I use it, but I do it for me for work not so I can get a contract or sponsorship. Everyone wants their 15minutes of fame but no one wants to work for it. Yes I am Privileged & so are you to be in our positions we have now. But we earned it. We did it the hard way & we made it. This new generation are easily disposable, the tiktok trendies with only a 30seconds attention span, that we have to condense an advert down to to get viewers for our show or movie. It’s pathetic. & fuck I sound old moaning at that” he sinks back into his chair after his rant. Dieters always talked about earning your place in the world, & you know he won’t get cancelled for this rant, it’s actually much more restraint than he could have been. You then both look at each other & start properly laughing. You can even hear production laughing in your ear.

You look at your tablet you’ve covered most of what you wanted to but it says you’ve got about 6minutes left before you need to tie off the interview, so you go a bit left field.

“Who’s going with you to the Oscar’s? A family member, a friend, a special person?” He raises an eyebrows because you both know the answer & you wanted to see if you could trip him up in his comfortable state.

“That remains to be decided” he says rubbing his hands together, eyes telling you to move on along with a few more things.

“Do you know what you’re wearing to the Oscar’s?”

“Well the bathrobe isn’t designer chic is it?” He cackles “I’m not wearing a standard tux, let’s put it that way.” You both seem to be enjoying these quick simple questions so you throw a few more in.

“Favourite character you wished you’d played & why?”

“Ferris Buller, iconic, feel good & fun”

“What’s your favourite film to put on to cry?”

“Up” Dieter is just going along with the rapid questions. You’ve not even asked, just both have a mutual understanding after all these years of how your show works. Long gone are the 3am podcasts on trying to make it in the industry or the 5minute YouTube shorts. But your format has always been honesty & Dieter has always been happy to share.

“Sweet or Salted popcorn?”

“Why?” He stops dead in his answer “why do you always have to ask this? It’s a deal breaker I know but I’m never answering not in front of the camera, all popcorn is delicious”

“Chicken” you giggle.

“Sorry?

“You heard me, baby chicken” he was once turned into a meme when he had his hair slicked back for an event, that he looked like a freshly hatched chick. It’s a good thing you know each other so well, as when your eyes meet you both fall apart in hysterics.

“& I thought you were gonna be professional” Dieter roars back slapping his leg as he bends over, tears almost falling from his face as you try to calm down to regain your composure to end the interview. “Ooh that takes me back to the food old days, when between us we had 20 fans & 16 of them were yours” he laughs before gathering himself again.

“Then maybe we should end with a question like back in the day Dieter.” You raise an eyebrow so he can work out what you’re about to ask him.

“Oooh a throw back yes please, bet you didn’t do this with DiCaprio.” His smirk shows that you both have each other in the palm of your hand. A smirk that gets all men & women into his bed, the smirk of seduction.

You mute your ear piece & face Dieter square on, as you can hear the Gallery panicking that this want pre planned. They have no idea how Dieter is going to react to whatever you know spontaneously ask.

“How about one last time we do a never have I ever…” you wink. “For those of you who haven’t followed my career, I used to end all my podcasts & interviews with a never have I ever questions which then I’d respond to & do my own, so for example Clare Blip has never watched a Harry Potter movie…”

“No way!” Dieter exhales

“Well she might have done now, it was 3 years ago, she had some lockdowns to do them in. Anyhow Dieter do you want to go first or should I?” You lean forward trying to guess what he’s going to say. You feel as excited as the first time you came up with the concept, it’s such a brilliant way of finding information out about other people. You were shocked no one had done this before.

“I’ll go first…” he says licking his lips & rubbing his hands he’s got a good one, he was always king of this when you used to play it on the episodes he came on. “Never have I ever…” he’s not lost his touch as he pauses for dramatic effect “… received a love letter or email”

“Awww Dieter really?”

“Yep not even a valentines card”

“Ooh that makes me feel sad.”You go to reach his hand but realise he’s a bit to far away. “Okay I have, I did last Valentine’s Day, it was really sweet, & I had no idea & im very lucky to have him in my life” you smile trying not to make eye contact as you think of your own one to say. “Okay my never have I ever is…I have never dated someone to get ahead in this world, I’ve only ever dated for love or a relationship”

“Really?” Dieter asks suspiciously, “what about” you shoot him a look “okay okay, your asking questions not me. Obviously I have, you know I have, the world knows I have, but that was me high on life can you blame me?”

“No, not really” you say sighing as your tablet hits the end of the silent timer.

“Dieter Bravo, today has been more than a pleasure for this episode of 30 minutes with, I know we’re friends & have known each other for longer than we both care to admit, but it’s just so easy talking with your professionally & personally, I hope you’ve had an enjoyable time on the show”

“I have thank you so much for having me on, for taking me seriously, but I do miss the 3am podcasts we used to do.” Dieter sits back in his chair as you do all the boring generic goodbye for your show & then you also record a couple of trailers & do a few quick photos together before you head back to your dressing room to get changed.

Your flight doesn’t leave for a couple of hours but you can’t wait to get out of your tailored trousers. There’s only so much your large Holdem in knickers can do, they do a bloody good job keeping your tummy flat but you can’t wait to put on a comfortable dress with leggins & be sitting in business class soon drinking a mimosa before your flight. The door clicks & you smile as you hear it shut. You know what’s coming next. Large hands come around your waist & start unbuttoning the jacket you are wearing.

“Was that good baby?” Dieter moans in your ear before he turns you around.

“You were very professional my sexy trash panda, not once did you let it slip that we’ve been in an exclusive relationship for the last 11 months” your hand goes into his beard, enjoying the prickles against your palm before your lips finally meet his. You have wanted to kiss him all day but know only a handful of people on set know your dating, let alone that the week after the Oscar’s you are marrying the world a most eligible Batchelor. His kisses are always so passionate even when they are small but todays feel like fire. The aren’t entirely forbidden but neither of you can hold back anymore.

“I doubt what I’m about todo is at all professional” his eyes pop wide when he sees how lacy your bra is under the jacket, almost see through. “Ooh baby, you practically had theses two on show for the world to see, but they belong to me, my hands & my mouth” he says as his shirt comes off & his trousers pool around his ankles. Your hand that’s not roaming his hair as you make out caresses Dieters own tummy, sinking your thumb into his belly button a few times to make him gasp. Soon his own hands have dealt with your trousers too.

“You did lock the door baby?” You pant as you start unhooking your bra.

“This isn’t my first back stage dalliance baby, you know that…”

“Yes because I walked in on you once when…”

“Yes I know, I know I … oooh baby” Dieters has a brain malfunction as your breasts are now free. His hands go straight to them. Your breasts aren’t small, but his hands are so large they eclipse them. While he does this, your own hands go inside his briefs, making sure he is ready for a few moments time. Taking his length & starting to enjoy how hard he gets.

“Ooh Dieter, my sexy lover, fuck me like you’re at a sex drunk orgy” you moan. Professional you all of 15mins ago would be lived at how quickly your begging for 2015s celebrity sex pest to take you in a place where other people could potential interrupt if they have the right key, but it’s not like this is a one off. Dieters been officially yours for almost a year, with no one else on the side for him. You’d been a friend with benefits over the years, if one of you broke up or needed pleasure, if the other was in the same country, you’d both try & get to each other, to satisfy each others desires. You’ve done this after about a year into knowing each other. This right now though is more than that. It is love & passion & desire, no-ones taking it away from either of you.

Baskets of hair & make up products slide off the dresser which he tries to catch in his eagerness to lay you down & start fucking you. You love his clumsy little nature & grab 2 products that you know cost a lot before reaching over the the chair to put them in before you ask him how he wants you.

“I think lie on your side if possible baby, that mirror is big. If I get you at the right angle I can watch you take my fat cock, watch it make you flutter, another memory for the lonely nights without you.” He says as he rolls your massive knickers down & his face gleams as he lowers you onto the dresser. “You know your Bridget Jones knickers are always a huge turn on baby, but I don’t actually care about your little rolls, you don’t care about mine, I love to embrace your body in every respect.” You got to say oh ahh to Dieter, but your mouth falls open doing an ooo noise when he removes his briefs. Your handy work has left his shaft leaking already. This is going to be so passionate you might break the dresser as he slides his way towards you once he is also perched on it.

He swipes his penis through your arousal.

“Dieter my love please, I want you my love, I need you, want to sit on the plane to London thinking about how good you feel.”

“Who says we’re not joining the mile high club?” He says his smile twitches.

“That’s creepy…” you start but then in unison you both then say “…but I like it” quoting one of his Cliff Beasts lines. He then silences you by thrusting deep inside you in one motion, filling you up so you take all of his penis. “Fuck me” you moan.

“I’m going to baby, god you always feel so good” he says as another firm thrust makes your body quiver, thighs already trembling. “Why did I ever share this pussy with so many other men for years?” This makes you moan. Dieter had never admitted he was jealous of other men you saw & dated when you had a casual relationship, but clearly today has made him really open. He starts to move which makes your pelvis & hips respond in pleasure, rolling for him.

“Look at you baby” you eyes are drawn To your mound which is experiencing pleasure, “ooh no baby, look in the mirror” the hand that was on your shoulder holds your chin so you can see the whole view. There are your reflections. You’re on your side, your hair already becoming disheveled as he moves back to holds your shoulder & grips your arse. His movements deliberate, his rhythm found, the pounding of your pussy has begun, watching it go inside you, as you love the feel he has as he drags your walls. You’re gripping to the end of the dresser by your head, your other hand moving to help keep you going to make sure you get off. You look at the state of the both of you & a small smile forms on your lips, especially when sweat drips from his untamed hair on to your body bellow. He’s going for it & you look so bloody sexy. “Does my girl now realise how sexy she is? Does she realise that your pussy is perfect for my penis? Do You enjoy the view? Should I go faster? Harder? Deeper?” The last word was said almost menacingly, it was deep & it make you clamp around him, which in turn makes him do all 3 of those things, as he exclaims “fucking love how tight you feel when I turn you on baby, why did I waste time with others, we were both fools”

“Dieter, fuck, yea that feels, oooooh yeaaaaa, don’t stop baby” looking at the two of your bodies getting sweaty & fucking the other until neither of you can function anymore is addictive. You know why Dieter wanted to take you here. This will not just be in his mind for a while but it will be in yours too. It’s his side profile that’s making you moan. His face is glistening, as the sweat pours from it. His well defined features looking so feral & full of desire as he starts to look at your body to make sure you are feeling all of it. the little oohs that escape his mouth each groan, his lips that are so plump parting as he pants. He might have been deemed a sex pest but it’s because of all those dalliances & late night orgies that you are getting the full experience. You are feeling all of him. Everyone else Dieter has ever slept with, means that you gets nights of unadulterated pleasure & lust.

“God you’re loving this, so responsive today baby, oooh fuck yes” he’s moaning throughout this sentence as you keep whining. You didn’t know your body could quiver like this & your added friction from your hand on your clit is making your grind faster. The stimulation is incredible & you can feel every motion.

“Dieter oh baby, you have me, have me, oh fuck just like that” your eyes have now left his face in the reflection. No longer watching his eyes go squid ink black, as his teeth snap almost as much as his body. Because that’s where your eyes are. On his thighs that are so thick, then & his hips generating all the thrusting power as he goes deeper inside you. He has trimmed but he’s not clean shaven, but he knows it makes his penis look longer, not that you need anymore, he’s the biggest you’ve ever had. There was more reasons as to why you always came back for more, but feeling how deep he went inside you, the only man to make your scream, finding the sweet spot that he hits multiple times each session without even trying, that definitely made sure you never said no to Dieter.

“Keep moaning baby” Dieter starts to pull your hair, which makes your body jolt & you gasp for air. You’re so turned on. You’re so feral. Your pelvis moving with your hips, clamping around him every few thrusts, gyrating for all of his desire. “I like it when you moan, it reminds me how needy you are for me.” He’s moaning too, loving how your body has started to shake. Both your climaxes building up. Watching your nipples get hard, looking at how well you take him. You really were made for each other & as the mirror starts to steam up from your panting & heat from your sweat builds up you both know you’re almost there.

“Oh fuck Dieter yea”

“You like this baby?”

“Yes”

“More mirror fucking going forward?”

“Oooh yesss”

“So tight, why you so good?”

“I’m yours, only yours”

“Remember that baby”

“Ooh fuck Dieter, I can’t control it”

“So wet, fuck, so good”

All these sentances in a quick exchange are panted out inbetween moans, he can’t go any faster & you have lost control of your body rotating your lower body anti clockwise. The build exquisite, the orgasm is going to hit tou hard, & it’s time for your body to give in. You bite your bottom lip & gasp as Dieter growls.

“Soak me darling. Make sure I’m yours”

“Fuck fuck fuck oh god yessssss” you gush & let go, eurphoria sweeping across you, clamping & covering his penis with yohr cum as you scream his name at the end of your extended deep moan. “Fuck baby yes yes oh fuck”

“Yea yea that feel so so, oh fuck” Dieters own praise of you going through your own high springs him into his own. Lashings of sperm fill your core, painting your insides, oozing into you. Your body slowly stops shaking as your intense pleasure slows down as he then also make his way down from a high he hasn’t experienced in year. Maybe the best random sex he’s ever had.

“Fuck me daring, that was another level” he eventually says once his heavy breathing has slowed down & he hops off the dresser & helps you sit up. His lips finding your for the first time in about 20minutes. Frenzied to start like your both getting out the last few bits of passion, but by the time you break apart & he tucks your hair away from your face, it’s sweet & a kiss not from a famous party boy but if a loving caring fiancé.

“I promise you DiCaprio didn’t get that service baby” you eventually say as you sigh & wrap your arms around him. Holding Dieter after sex has always been your thing, even when you were just fuck buddies & he’s never pushed you back ever.

“I mean I wouldn’t have been angry if he had. He’d be jealous he didn’t get you all the time…”

“I’m also to old for him” you snigger “what he gets…”

“Isn’t you darling. He can have all those models & wannabes, but he wishes he had someone like you baby. His loss my gain” Dieter says this while peppering your neck with kisses before slowly taking you off the dresser. “You were something else just then, I could have gone on for much longer, but I just couldn’t hold back, I needed to let go baby”

“I’m not complaining baby, my body shook in ways I forgot it could” you say as you walk over to the sink to clean yourself up. There’s no shower in this dressing room at the studio. You throw Dieter a cloth too. “I know it can’t always be like that baby, I think we were just in the mood.”

“Why can’t it?” Dieter asked as he finishes his own clean up & finds his clothes. “I want you to always have a fantastic orgasm baby, I want your body to move like that, & tremble each time we fuck”

“Is that a promise Dieter?” You say as you work out where your normal non interview clothes are & start to get dressed too.

“Well let’s get on this plane to London & see if the altitude makes you ever sexier baby” Dieter says.

“Dieter, I’m not sure if anything is going to match that ever, watching our reflections & getting lost in a moment was just so intoxicating” you say as you lick your lips & finish putting your clothes on.

“You liked it?”

“No” you wrap your arms around him “I loved it.”

“Good girl, my very good girl…” Dieter gets lost in your eyes seeing the genuine glimmer behind them that filling with more desire. His lips taste delicious as you both just can’t control yourself, as you both are showing such love & lust for each other. “Maybe we can get a later flight to London…” he raises an eyebrow.

“That’s not very professional baby” you say as your lips part before colliding passionately again.

“It may not be, but it wouldn’t be the best image if we break the on plane toilet from having too much sex would it?” The glint in his eyes as he clicks the door to unlock it, ready to walk you out of the studio complex to take you to more pleasure before you both hop on that flight. You both need this desire out of your system in the best way possible. An afternoon of hotel sex might just keep you both in check until your plane lands on the other side of the Atlantic.

[hwaightme]

Feels Like Home (part 1)

(part 2)

pairing: seonghwa x fem!reader genre: fluff, slight angst, doctor!seonghwa, graphic designer!reader, slice of life summary: What is home? Perplexed by this notion, you spent many years looking for your own answer, moving and running from your past. Your new neighbour, Park Seonghwa, might just be the key to discovery. wordcount: 5.7k warnings: language, mentions of food, mentions of the pandemic, anxiety, mention of past abusive relationships a/n: thank you all so much for the love <3 beyond grateful for you, and am inspired by you! Here is a work on the longer side, so I will be splitting it into two parts, stay tuned~

You lucked out. After having spent over two years migrating from one disastrous excuse for an apartment, to another, you finally felt like you could relax. No more leaks, no more creepy crawlies threatening to fall right on your face in the middle of the night… you shuddered at the memory; no more landlords that enjoyed screaming down the phone at you… you could finally achieve your domestic dreams and lounge at home to your heart’s content.

The apartment itself was on the more ‘compact’ side, located on the ninth floor of a complex in a quiet residential area. The living room, dining room and kitchen were combined, but not overwhelmingly so – everything still had its own area, and in no time did you set up your rather wild collection of plans by the sliding windows. Since the building was fairly new, you did not need to invest much in any repainting or cleaning of the apartment, and by the grace of the landlady who took a liking to you, the deposit was equally reasonable. It was almost worth it going through all the terrors after university, just to appreciate this place.

This was the place that made you understand why some people never wanted to leave their house or area – to be frank, you were turning into one of them. Only leaving on the days you had to, your hybrid work as a graphic and brand designer was becoming better and better, and finally you managed to get rid of the nickname your colleagues gave to you: “true businessman”. Your old place had gotten you used to spending some nights in the office common room, just to avoid the seedy neighbourhood, cracking walls and windows that were threatening to fall out at any second.

Really, it was heaven and earth. What was another very welcome change was the difference in neighbours. Whilst before there was that one elderly couple down the street that ran a tteokbokki stall, sure, they couldn’t exactly make you feel continuously welcome and safe, not when you quite literally had a loan shark knock on your door that one time, and then go “oops sorry wrong address, keep your money in a bank, kid”. Since that day you became the most loyal out of your friends to filling out taxes and budgeting.

In this apartment complex, there was the receptionist downstairs who, without fail, would give you the most reassuring nod humanly possible and then with a rough clearing of the throat, would go back to solving puzzles in the newspaper he subscribed to. There also was the family of four, man and wife and their boy and girl, who lived right down the corridor from you (and who you did hear on occasion, but this was nothing) – total sweethearts, the types of neighbours who left you alone, but in a good mood. And of course, him.

Park Seonghwa.

Lived two doors away and across the corridor from you. Worked as a junior resident at a hospital. A dream of a man. You two clicked instantly; maybe it was the circumstances of your first meeting that did it. You, in an oversized puffer coat, scarf wrapped up to your very eyes and a hat completing your disguise, only the crinkling of the plastic bag in your hands revealing why you were out and about at two thirty-five in the morning. Him, eyes slightly bloodshot, beanie tugged off to reveal a mop of black hair, and what looked to be a while lab coat protruding from layers of rained-on outerwear. Needless to say, both of you made quite a fascinating impression.

“So, what did you cook up in the labs this time of night, good sir?” you tried, too sleep-deprived to not fulfil your need for entertainment.

“Probably something that you were buying, good madam.” Seonghwa shot back at the speed of light, spinning on his heels to face you. You had stopped him right when he was about to unlock his front door. You noted the smirk that was appearing on his lips, and at that moment you decided that he was your type of man.

In your full incognito Mr. Stay-Puft glory you sashayed over to your neighbour, reaching into the bag and taking out a tightly packed cylinder.

“No wonder kimbap is so addictive.”

“Oh no! Not the ultra-classified prototype! Society is in danger!” raising his hands up, acting every part the diva in a low-budget, trashy horror flick, Seonghwa began to charm his way into your heart. So you did what no introvert had ever done before and, upon loosening your scarf slightly, took the risk and… introduced yourself.

“L/N Y/N. Your neighbour from… that door over there. Pleasure to make your acquaintance.” You bowed your head, momentarily concealing your shy smile.

“Park Seonghwa. The neighbour you just intercepted, and the pleasure is all mine.”

That night you had also made the gutsy move to offer to snack on the kimbap together, which led to the pair of  you having one philosophical discussion after another all through the night, ranging from the basics like ‘how come we did not talk a single time until now’ to the more insightful ‘what hope of yours would you want to reignite’ to the showstopper ‘why was there sound in the Star Wars intergalactic battles’. Probably the last one could be considered your first argument, but you were adults who knew how to communicate over even the most critical matters.

Steadily, you and Seonghwa became practically inseparable and were orbiting around one another even if outside of the complex. Your work schedules somehow complemented one another, and where he had to work night shifts or catastrophically long hours, you would be ready with a comforting meal and a completed chore or two – otherwise mundane and tiring but seeing a grown man giggle because he heard you took the trash out was beyond and became your choice of entertainment. Likewise, if you had project deadlines or particularly stressful client negotiations, Seonghwa would be right at your door, ready to take care of, quite literally, anything you would point at. Not that your friend from college would ever find out, but he was the one texting her back about what laundry detergent she should buy.

As time went on, you also got to see each other at your worst and lowest. His transition into being a full-time medical doctor was met with crash courses in intense epidemiology and volumes of patients unprecedented to him. Returning home after days of barely sitting down and intermittently losing consciousness for minutes of sleep had become a horrendous routine at a certain point. Seonghwa had crashed just about anywhere one could think of. His apartment, yours, even the corridor. And every time, your heart broke just a little, and you would climb close, flinging his arm around your neck and shoulder, and be his guide to a haven.

Though you would never understand the exact pain he felt, nor what he had to see out there and what choices he was forced to make, you tried your best to support Seonghwa how you could. Need more personal protective equipment? You were on it. Need hand sanitiser and antibacterial surface cleaner? Done and stocked up. Need to sit on the floor in silence for an hour and wait until the cacophony of the day stopped echoing in the mind? You were always ready.

It was the night of the 3rd of April, yet Seonghwa did not feel even a little bit happier, nor smarter, nor like he had the right to celebrate. For the most part, he had suppressed the fact that it was his birthday, instead pouring himself out at work until he could barely stand. At that point, like an automaton he followed the command of the doctor on call and trudged home, to the complex. He fell asleep twice on the metro, nearly missing his stop, and could barely walk up the tiny hill that now seemed to be a mountain.

He was fed up. Everything was too much. His own body was an unbearable load he had to carry. How did he fall victim to the illusion that the life of a doctor was one where he would feel gratitude and honour? The longer Seonghwa studied and worked, the more confident he became that no one ever said thank you to a medical professional. No, only blamed them. Blamed them for mistakes they did not make. Blamed them for the risks they did not take. Blamed them for when they tried their hardest, but that still was not enough.

Seonghwa thought of his family. How proud they were when he left his hometown to pursue his dreams at a prestigious university in Seoul. It used to bring him joy to think that the next time he would return for the holidays, his parents would show him off to anyone they could, and his brother would give him a congratulatory pat on the back and share the words ‘I knew you could do it, little bro’. He desperately wanted to return to the time when he still knew little about the field, so that it would not yet be tainted by the true colours of the world.

The wind was unusually cold for April, as though the winter had decided to return for a spring break. The young, fatigued man was fighting a losing battle against the gusts which did little to prevent tears from welling up. Not much longer now. One foot in front of the other. He was attempting to encourage himself to get across the little square in front of his building. In a confused panic when he almost lost his footing because of a hidden rock on the path, he raised his head, pleading for something better than this. Searching for a light.

There it was. A warm hue. Cheerful rays housed in four walls, hinting at a life behind the curtains. The sun that set only when you decided. The windows of your apartment, facing the square. He could imagine you swaying to whatever new release you had discovered, humming along to mask that you did not know the lyrics, cooking away. That was his guiding star.

In brighter spirits, Seonghwa managed to make his way to the ninth floor, where he was promptly greeted by your front door opening, and you in an oversized hoodie inviting him over for dinner once he was done with his second de-scrub and cleaning. Relief washed over him. After you had officially met and cemented yourselves as more than just neighbours, you had been nothing but kind and understanding of him. His work-induced lifestyle did not matter much to you, and you had not commented a single time that he should ‘change his ways’ or ‘go into a different field of medicine’. Over dinner at a local restaurant Seonghwa had explained to you his dreams of being a neurosurgeon, and you had merely lit up in admiration and commended him for his determination and strength.

This evening, too, you were right there for him. Once he had cleaned himself up and was at your door, he was greeted by an array of dishes that you had painstakingly been preparing for a few hours. From the traditional miyeok-guk to pajeon, you had done everything in your power to celebrate Seonghwa, even if it was just for a little, until midnight. That was when the swelling of his heart became too much, and he collapsed onto one of the dining chairs, head in his hands. The tears that had been on the verge of falling for the hours he was working were finally set free, and he could not help but want to hide.

You were taken aback. Never before had you brought anyone to tears. Especially for doing something that you would consider nice. But your intuition told you that there was something more to this, you were not one to judge. Seonghwa had been under pressure for an astonishingly long time, and his ability to still function blew you away. You did not know his whole story, but you wanted to ensure that he could get the happy ending he wanted.

Silently you poured the fragrant seaweed soup that you made, trying to follow a variation created by a cook from South Gyeongsang province, and set the bowl in front of him. You sat down across from the birthday boy. When he failed to move, you nudged his elbow with a plate of danmuji you had bought. When he finally looked up at you, eyes watery and red, you mustered your brightest grin and whispered:

“Don’t over-salt the food, Seonghwa, I want you to try it as is.” Hearing his chuckle was music to your ears. You reached over to pass him his cutlery, and before moving away, softly squeezed his forearm in reassurance. The gesture was meant to be brief and non-invasive, but Seonghwa had other plans and wrapped his fingers around your forearm, letting time stand still. He was aware that you were in a relationship with some good-for-nothing, so did not overstep any boundaries (though his body was screaming at him to act), but the touch had triggered a shutdown of his rumination. Right there and then, he was home.

“Thank you, Y/N.” He released you, only to pick up the spoon you provided and dig into the soup.

“You are very welcome, Seonghwa. Happy birthday.”

Not long after that, about a year and a half of you knowing one another, your neighbour turned closest friend had comforted you through loss of love; something you had initially attempted to hide, seeing as the loss Seonghwa had to witness day in day out was gut-wrenching on a different level, but he wanted to hear none of it. That same moment that he had managed to pry out of you the reason for your melancholy, he called into work claiming an emergency day off. He had stormed into your apartment with a mission to make you smile at least once, or at least to make you feel lighter – he did not have to try too hard, you had to admit. Part of you was certain that it was exactly because you had Seonghwa you could walk out of your ex-boyfriend’s apartment with a smile on your face.

The waves of bitter regret had hit you only after you came home. Replaying every scene in your head, you never thought yourself to be the one who would, one, be able to put up with someone, in retrospect, so judgemental for a total of three years, and two, be the one who was cheated on and then cussed out. The magical world of the new apartment complex you lived was shuddering under the heaviness of your dark mood.

The few weeks before Seonghwa had fully committed to treatment had passed agonisingly slow, with you hurling your phone across the living room in an attempt to silence the spam from your ex and existing on mere inertia. Getting up because you had to. Breathing out of habit. You had been struggling to keep your focus during meetings and had notified your team that you were to be exclusively online for the next couple of weeks due to being under the weather. By grace, your boss was more than understanding. And that was when you stopped being bothered to draw your curtains or to take care of yourself. Your ecosystem rapidly decreased in size until it was mashed into your apartment. Seonghwa was the one to see the signs. You were convinced that it was because he was a doctor and thus had a sixth sense, but he did not dare explain why he was acting the way he was. At least it was not the right time.

You healed fast. And got back into the pleasant lifestyle of amiable banter and housekeeping with Seonghwa. However, a few things had definitely changed since overcoming the various plot twists life had thrown at you. Probably one of the most obvious ones was that neither of you were hesitant to share stories about one another to your respective circles. Moreover, both of you would chat away even when unprompted, which had earned you a few sighs already. To express gratitude and satisfy your curiosity for where Seonghwa worked, you surprised him by bringing him a boxed lunch he had been raving about. This had set off a couple of rumours about you, though they were dispelled very quickly by your neighbour’s squadron of ambitious, wild, and hilarious doctors. They were quick to state that you had ‘old married couple energy’ and were asking if you could adopt them so they could get good treatment too. While you were laughing, you failed to notice the proud and warm grin that danced on Seonghwa’s lips and made his dark eyes gleam.

This was your shared rhythm. Your shared feeling of home.

☼☼☼☼☼

“Hey, do you need me to pick anything up on the way home?” your neighbour asked, his voice turning static for a split second as you switched the call to speaker.

You were currently hidden away in your home office – a tiny closet of a bedroom that you had converted to something of a studio for your creative deeds. So far, it was simply a desk and chair facing the window, a shelving unit housing random prototyping and art materials as well as being a pedestal to a potted English ivy to your right, and an overfilled corkboard to your left. As Seonghwa had commented, it was a manifestation of your creative and professional self. Truer words could not be said – it explained why you were constantly thinking of ways to update the interior.

As you repeatedly dragged and clicked with your mouse, scrutinising the vector image you were in the process of designing, you mumbled your resident partner in crime a response:

“I think I am good for now…”

“Really? So, we are just going to brush over the fact that you ran out of onions last week?”

You chuckled. The name under which you had him saved, ‘Mother Hwa🖤’ was very appropriate right that second. Nevertheless, these were the moments when you felt the most at ease. There was someone taking care of you, even though you were away from your childhood home, away from your old friends. There was someone right beside you, who you knew would return any care and affection a thousand-fold.

“See? You somehow know the contents of my kitchen better than I do. Please bestow some more knowledge upon me, dear Mars bar.” You countered, not looking away from your screen to pretend like you were still concentrated on work and not a soft mushy mess.

“Well… there was that one seasoning you had… you know the one in the red packet with the TV show host guy randomly in the corner and-” you tilted your head at the sudden pause “…since when am I a Mars bar???” you had to purse and suck in your lips to prevent a loud giggle from spilling out.

“Because you are a snack, Seonghwa.” Your success at a deadpan delivery sent the man on the call into a state of ‘error.exe’, even though the joke was outdated and highlighted how both of you were not quite the peak of modernity among the youth.

Before you had attained the status of singlehood, you were a lot more reserved with your jokes and flirtation, and understandably so. You had not wanted to appear to be a player, not give anyone false hopes. Seonghwa had to admit that it had been slightly easier to talk to you when he felt as though he had no chance. Now, more often than not, your comments reduced him to nothing more than a pained expression and flaming cheeks. Believing that there could be something, a tomorrow, hell, a whole future with you, really sent him into a mental frenzy.

“…okay… then I won’t get you the bbungyeoppang that is on sale since I am enough.” He whispered. Nothing much, but a shiver still ran down your spine at the sudden sultriness in his enunciation.

“Why not spice things up and add a plus one, especially since they are so willing?” you countered, mirroring him.

“Oh you- ah sorry, I have to drop the call, duty calls. Hongjoong is asking for a consult. Then I’ll pick up the groceries on the way, see you later Y/N.” Seonghwa rushed, jolting you back to reality. That’s right, you were still in your tiny room, in front of your set up, hand hovering above the mouse.

“Sure, got you. See you later, Seonghwa!”

As soon as you ended the call and watched the phone screen fade to black, you spun around on your chair, doing a miniature wiggle dance. These domestic interactions had never failed to give rise to pure glee within you. It was a tad unconventional to be pretty much sharing living space with someone who, technically, was just your neighbour, but it felt more than right. Oh, the wonders of having powered through life struggles and global crises together.

While you continued to work away at a brand re-design portfolio deck, Seonghwa was left standing in one of the many passageways of KQ Hospital where he worked. This particular one was almost fully glass, connecting the emergency centre to the main building. Whenever he felt like shooting you a quick text or to slow down after doing rounds and more training, Seonghwa would come here. To some degree, the location reminded him of the apartment complex – people bolting across, on a mission, never stopping to admire the setting sun that the glass captured, turning the linoleum floor into a carpet of glistening gold. People greeting each other with a curt nod, posing as good colleagues when in fact they had no idea what the other’s name was, nor why they felt obligated to follow societal norms and not ignore one another. Seonghwa, too, was guilty of this, especially in his first rotations when everything was a huge blur.

At one point he had even ceased to reach out to his friends – those in the exact same rotation and doing the same shifts as him, let alone those with whom, on top of exhaustion, there were other excuses. Funnily enough, it was you who pulled him out of this pattern, preventing him from losing himself and who he held dear. You reminded him that even in this vast world where one can never quite know anyone’s full story, you can find those whom you wouldn’t mind co-authoring with. One of these people was Hongjoong, his best friend since the first year of medical school and colleague he could count on. The shorter man was standing at the entrance to the passageway, arms crossed, his mobile phone dangling between two fingers.

“No wonder I couldn’t call you, Hwa. You were flirting with Y/N again.”

“Come on, man, I wasn’t flirting.” Seonghwa waved his friend off, hiding his phone in his scrubs.

“Then what was it, digital first base?”

Seonghwa could imagine the mischievous expression on Hongjoong’s face, one not dissimilar to that of a dad figuring out that his son was talking to someone in a very happy tone. Sighing deeply, he chose to not look to his side and continue walking, hands in his pockets. Seeing that the joke did not quite land, Hongjoong backtracked and added:

“If it is going to make you actually respond to me, I can start paging you, I don’t mind. I have gotten pretty good at dialling up the numbers at lighting speed.” This made Seonghwa shudder and turn dramatically.

“Oh, you would not dare, Kim Hongjoong, I am still getting flashbacks from the time the senior resident just decided to give me three pagers on a Friday night shift.” He proclaimed, placing a hand on his chest.

“You’ll deal with it, better train those nerves up for when you become a neurosurgeon.” Hongjoong poked him in the arm, then fell into the same stride as his friend.

That was how it had been through out the years they had known each other. Through thick and thin, on caffeine or suffering through withdrawals. They had sworn to support one another through the thorned path that was medicine, and somehow had managed to deal with each other’s nonsense. At this point they could be called brothers, having only moved into different apartments by mutual agreement to not drive each other insane 24/7. Interestingly, their opportunity to spend some time apart, forming their own habitats and lives not directly related to careers and studies, had enabled them to be even better attuned to each other’s changes. This was how Hongjoong knew you were someone who Seonghwa could rely on. In a matter of weeks after ghosting those closest left and right, he had walked into the staff common room with an apologetic smile and coffee for all his friends who he had gathered prior. And, upon being taken aside by Hongjoong for a miniature interrogation, brushed any suspicions and hypotheses aside, only saying that ‘he had found home’.

Needless to say, when the bond between you two began to grow stronger, and you had, evidently, not left his side for the duration of the worst parts of the pandemic, nor did Seonghwa abandon any hopes as he had previously done when it came to even hints of relationships, for Hongjoong you were instantly approved. Bonus points for having returned the next day after bringing Seonghwa lunch that one time to feed his friends too. It was frustrating that his best friend was not yet aware of the necessity to make the final move and make things official. For a doctor he was unbelievably thick in matters of love, or was a classicist and was afraid of rejection.

“You know…” Hongjoong began as they were approaching the elevators, “I think you really need to seal the deal, Hwa. Time goes by fast, and it is unfair to both of you if you don’t neither time nor the feelings you obviously have.”

Seonghwa expected that this conversation would happen at some point. His friend knew him too well. Maybe even caught him looking at your pictures that he had saved on his phone in a separate album of his gallery. He took a deep breath and shrugged, pressing the button to call the lift.

“True, but at the same time, things are going so well right now and-”

“Hate to rain on your parade, buddy, but that is how you messed up with your first girlfriend. And your second… oh wait a minute, even the blind date I set you up on did not work out, guess why?”

“Okay, okay, I got it. Fine.”

“No, you ‘don’t got it’. I can see you are scared. But you know why? Because you are being given a chance by the universe to hold onto something so precious and fragile that you know you cannot be the same without. But your self-doubt and anxieties wake up and torment you, day in day out, saying that you cannot step up and be responsible and commit.”

Seonghwa fell quiet, all attention on the painful monologue that was cutting up his psyche into small pieces, arranging it into a clearer bigger picture that he was trying to hide from himself.

“Take this, if you were not ready to step up, you wouldn’t have her as your emergency contact – don’t ask how I know. And, and you sure as hell would not be rushing home after a day shift just to make it to the bakery she likes. You would not be so worried for her even if everything was okay and you would not drop everything just to help her. You, my friend, are denying what is so blatantly obvious and is right in front of you that I seriously want you to call ophthalmology.”

“I swear, it is almost as if I was the one who called you for a life consult.” Seonghwa retorted as they watched the numbers blink in ascending order.

“See how lucky you are? Doctor Kim is blessing you with love wisdom for free.”

“Yeah… yeah… And I am trying my best to apply it.” If only destiny was so kind so as to give him an opportunity to just… get the awkward stuff over with and be able to wrap you in his arms – he was getting ahead of himself. Again. Seonghwa ran a hand through his hair. Way to go, declaring to another doctor he was ‘self-soothing’. He cleared his throat and decided to fully switch topic.

“Now, oh wise one, what troubles did you wish to talk to me about?”

“Oh, okay, so there is this one patient, complaining of episodes where their surroundings start spinning uncontrollably and they get a splitting headache and waves of nausea-”

“Vertigo?”

“Exactly, care to check it out?”

“Sure, lead the way.”

They ambled onwards, having fully moved on from conversing about you, however Seonghwa was still clouded over, pondering what you were up to. He was meant to have a full day off soon, and his infatuated self was inclined to conjure up plans exclusively involving you. But first, this patient…

You had not moved much in the time of Hongjoong’s and Seonghwa’s chat, nor for the two hours after that. Having found the perfect position in your chair, you were an unstoppable force, bashing out page after page of innovation for a re-branding that a late-stage start-up had requested. Their market focus reminded you of Seonghwa. Neuro-something or other. Maybe you should show him a sneak peek of one of your designs, just to see what the impact would be, though the non-disclosure agreement was hanging right above you like a guillotine. Yet another cause for your having been accustomed to asking well-crafted questions about your neighbour’s day – patient confidentiality was not too far off, style-wise. Like serif and sans serif fonts. Or two font families that could be mish-mashed together and no one would mind.

It was obvious that you had spent far too long doing some ‘font shopping’, as you liked to call it. Another hour, to be exact. However, you pushed the initial wave of guilt away pretty quickly, reminding yourself that, thankfully, this, too was part of your job. You yawned and stretched, taking a look at the time.

“Right, time for a snack!” you exclaimed out loud, and with a huff pushed yourself to your feet.

It was already getting dark outside, and temperatures were dropping in true autumn fashion, so after much deliberation you settled for a decaffeinated latte and a yogurt you found in your fridge. You moved to your sofa and turned on some random drama to play in the background while you zoned out scrolling for inspiration on your phone. After not finding anything too impressive but liking things for the sake of it, you clicked on your own profile to reminisce on the memories you captured. Funny how more and more of them appeared to involve the doctor next door.

After you proudly deleted any traces of your ex from social media, you vowed to be careful about the people you included in photos. So, none actually revealed the identity of be it a shadow or an extra mug or the holder of a ticket, but for you each scene was crystal clear, and replayed with ease. There was the picture Seonghwa had taken during your ‘supposed to be spontaneous but was planned weeks in advance’ getaway to Daejeon – you looking particularly cute while scrutinising an exhibit at the museum of art. There was the snapshot from one of your late-night trips to the convenience store, when you two were snuggled in oversized hoodies, sprawled on plastic chairs. And one of a completed Lego build, completed in three hours, mainly with you observing and searching for any stray piece that had gone flying across your neighbour’s living room.

You were also glad for the time you had to move on. You had a problematic relationship previously, you had to admit, and rushing into anything more would have had you repeating patterns you did not want to remember. Yet now, all you were hoping for was for a new chapter. An evolution of what you had been cultivating. Your instincts were telling you that you and Seonghwa were approaching a sort of crossroads, or a breaking point, and depending on what decisions you two would make, your future could be rewritten, and the world around the apartment complex either bloom or wither.

It was not that complicated a conclusion to reach – your ex had been bothering you incessantly with messages, voicemails and even direct messaging on social media, leading you to block him almost everywhere. He was going through the usual routine of pretending to care for your wellbeing, demanding attention and then on a night when he was probably shitfaced, saying he loved you and then proceeding to call you a whore. Prince charming indeed. You were disgusted that you had ever associated yourself with that sorry excuse for a man.

Tonight was no different. After deciding to post a ‘throwback’ story, he was back. It had been months since you last shared a full conversation, and it appeared that he was more communicative than ever. Was this what the memes you had seen online were talking about, where two people in a breakup often had radically different grief processing schedules? You were tired. You wanted to forget what and who you had moved away from. You wanted to build your new home in peace, and here was a ghost, howling and wishing to haunt you.

[do not answer!!] hey

[do not answer!!!] I know you are seeing this, you have read receipts on

[do not answer!!!] Y/N… come on I just want to talk things through

[do not answer!!!] I don’t think we have ever really had a chance to go over things

[do not answer!!!] you know, understand each other’s perspectives

[do not answer!!!] Y/N! seriously give me a chance I want to just TALK

[do not answer!!!] anyways, I am on my way to your place so… I guess talk soon?

[aneurinallday]

The Grey Man

Chapter 10: Wild Mint

One day, Holford awoke from a fitful nap to find the wagon a little brighter than normal. Tommy had left the doors ajar. Refusing the call of the sunshine and fresh air, Holford returned to his position facing the dark wall. He could smell wood-smoke from the campfire. A breeze stirred the curtains and the tassels.

After a while, Tommy’s voice came from outside.

“Are you awake?”

“...Yes.”

“Then come out here.”

Dragging himself out of his torpor, Holford rose, drew his blanket around his shoulders, and limped towards the wagon’s doors. He stepped blinking out into the sunshine, onto the narrow ledge where the driver would perch. Tommy was sitting with his legs hanging over the side, chewing on something. A small sprig of green.

“What do you want?” Holford asked. His tone was subdued and his posture defeated.

“Fancy one?” Tommy offered up a leaf.

“What is it?”

“Mint.”

Holford accepted, and nibbled the edge of  the leaf cautiously. He expected it to taste like dirt, but it had the familiar cooling flavour, albeit with a bitter edge.

“Sit next to me,” said Tommy.

Holford obeyed, wincing as he manoeuvred himself down. He rested his feet on the steps which led down onto the grass; and turned his face towards the clouds, feeling the cool sunshine and fresh breeze on his skin. For a while, the two men sat in silence - Tommy chewing, Holford merely existing.

“Do you like horses?” Tommy finally spoke.

“I suppose so.”

“Do you keep any?”

“No. I prefer a car. It’s faster. And cleaner.”

“Afraid of a bit of dirt?”

“Well, I am a doctor, Mister Shelby.”

“True enough. Do you go to the races?”

“If obligation demands it. I don’t much enjoy crowds, though.”

“Not clean enough for you?”

“Not calm enough. I don’t like ruckus and sweat.”

“Or fun, by the sounds of it.” Tommy offered him another leaf. “Lived in Derbyshire long?”

“All my life.”

“Grew up in that house, eh?”

“It belonged to my mother’s side of the family. I was an only child, so when she and my father passed away, I inherited everything.”

“What happened to them?”

“Spanish influenza. The second wave of the pandemic, the winter of 1918. Even the rich weren’t spared its ravages.”

“Let me guess - that’s why you went into medicine.”

“Yes.”

“1918,” Tommy mused. “How old were you?”

“Seventeen.”

“Who took care of you until your eighteenth birthday?”

“My servants. And, I suppose, distant relatives who wanted my money.”

“I see. How was your life before that?”

“Idyllic. Carefree. My mother was kind and my father…worked a lot, which suited us fine. I spent my time reading, dancing, singing, playing the piano. I had no troubles.”

“Sounds like paradise.” Tommy picked the final leaf off the sprig, popping it in his mouth. He flicked away the naked stem. “Do you travel much? When you’re not showing up at fascist weddings, I mean.”

“A few times a year. Medical conferences and such. Berlin, Munich, Paris.”

“You don’t travel for pleasure?”

“My work keeps me too busy.”

“You should try it some time. Take a break, get away from everyone. Like me - sometimes I just hop in a caravan and drive. Don’t need to go anywhere in particular, just drive. Enjoy the solitude, listen to the trees, eat what you catch with your own two hands. It clears the head. Gives you perspective.”

“Tommy,” Holford interrupted. “If you let me live, I am never setting food in the countryside again. I’ll stay in central London until the day I die.”

“Good to know. Maybe it’s different for me. My father was an Irish Traveller, my mother was a Gypsy. The countryside’s in my blood.” Tommy stretched a little, and rolled his stiff neck until it clicked. “I imagine you keep an extensive library in that big house. What books do you read?”

“Textbooks, mostly. I was obliged to learn the great classics at school, but I always preferred non-fiction for some reason. I suppose I thought real life was already strange and ridiculous enough, it didn’t need embellishment. What about you?”

“I’m partial to Shakespeare, as you may have guessed. And Dickens. What about sports, do you play any sports?”

“Mister Shelby, why are you asking me all these questions?”

“When you’ve been living with a man for over a month, and sharing a bunk on occasion, it seems appropriate to get to know him.”

“There’s not much to know. I’m an ordinary person.” Holford’s feet were getting cold. He drew them up inside the blanket.

“You never sang for me,” said Tommy.

“Pardon?”

“You offered to sing for me. I’m taking you up on that offer.”

“Mm…maybe another time. My throat’s still a little sore.”

“Fine. A poem, then. You seem like the sort of man who knows a poetry book by heart.”

“You think too highly of me. Let me think.” Holford sighed, rifling through mental filing cabinets that had grown dusty from neglect. “Alright, here’s one. When, like committed linnets, I with shriller throat shall sing - ”

“What is this?”

“Lovelace’s tribute to Althea. Written 1642.”

“I can’t say I know it.”

“Well, I have a fondness for old, doomed melancholics. I with shriller throat shall sing the sweetness, mercy, majesty, and glories of my King: when I shall voice aloud how good He is, how great should be; enlarged winds, that curl the flood, know no such liberty - ”

“Christ.”

“Mister Shelby, please.”

“Sorry. Carry on.”

“Stone walls do not a prison make, nor iron bars a cage: minds innocent and quiet take that for an hermitage. If I have freedom in my love, and in my soul am free; angels alone, that soar above, enjoy such liberty.”

“Very nice.”

“What about you? Recite me something.”

“In the bleak midwinter,” Tommy began, and then stopped. “I think that’s enough poetry.”

“You can’t finish what you started?”

“Judging by the fact that you’re still alive, no, it seems I can’t.”

Holford was shivering now. His nose and ears were turning pink from the cold.

“I’d like to go back inside, please,” he said.

“Aye, go on, then.”

Holding his blanket tight around him, Holford turned and disappeared back into the wagon - back into the semi-darkness and the cramped bunk with which he’d become far too familiar.

And so their routine continued, with one new addition: when the weather was mild, the doctor would join Tommy outside, to talk or simply to sit in silence. The extent of Holford’s liberty grew further and further, until he was sitting on the bottom step, then on the grass, then by the small campfire where Tommy cooked their supper. Tommy no longer bothered closing the doors, leaving them wide-open when the weather permitted it.

The rabbits which Tommy brought back were already skinned - he never did the skinning in front of Holford. Partly because he didn’t want to spill blood in the camp, and partly because he didn’t want to trigger memories of the doctor’s torture. Holford would always be haunted by the spectre of Pascoe, but Tommy shielded him from the recollection in whatever small ways he could.

Holford didn’t have the stomach to help spit-roast the rabbits, but he helped with the herbs and wild-flowers that Tommy gathered; picking apart the leaves and the stems. He had to ask Tommy what they were. Mint, nettles, dandelion, sorrel, yarrow, wild garlic. None of it anything he would’ve considered eating a month ago, but all of it precious. He watched the leaves and petals wilt in the simmering water, imparting flavour to the lean meat, and tried to discern if the steam smelled different.

Finally, there came a morning when the dressings were taken off for the last time. The site was ugly and tender, and it would still need to be washed regularly, but it was no longer an open wound. He would remember the feel of the knife every time he saw it, every time his sleeve dragged over it; but every day, Pascoe’s ghost grew more faint while Holford’s mind grew more clear. More awake. More alive.

Chapter 11: Home

[sachermorte]

The anon DOES still want to hear the Prater incident!!! Your stories are WILD 😁

dramatis personae:

roland, a heavyset dark-haired man on a crutch, with a bearing that was described by a dear friend as soon as just the other day as "bizarrely edwardian"

ed, a slender, bespectacled man from oxfordshire

martha, a curly-haired woman from upstate new york

chris, some jackass, blonde and in a leather jacket, from somewhere in the UK but I didn't care to ask

tw: drug use, emetophobia

this was during the summer of 2020. the covid-19 pandemic had been raging for approximately three months, and this was the first of many brief quarantine relaxations that would take place in austria over the following year. we were permitted to travel, ride public transportation with a mask, and generally act like jackasses after too many long weeks of laying around in a stupor, doing nothing of consequence but giving ourselves mild alcohol poisoning with cheap, nasty beer and liquor. I actually can't drink rum anymore to this very day due to a separate event in march, but I digress. ed, martha, and I had been quarantining together in ed's apartment in the south of (sketchy-ass) linz near bulgariplatz, and to this very day I consider myself closer to these two people than I am my actual siblings.

but things were beginning to open and we were feeling stir-crazy, so we began tooling around the country together staring from around may. one trip to innsbruck/feldkirch/bregenz/liechtenstein, one trip to hallstadt/gmunden, one trip to bratislava, the works. lots of time spent in vienna because I quite honestly felt twitchy being away for too long but couldn't bear to leave ed and martha and completely shatter my already fragile psyche.

it came to ed's attention that a man whom he'd befriended during a study abroad term in vienna while he was doing his bachelor's, chris, was still in town, so we began hanging out with him, which quickly became one of the more unpleasant and draining aspects of our outings.

chris was an asshole. I can just come out and drop that one from the jump. loud, boorish, needlessly aggressive, had a sophomoric sense of humor, and seemed like he had it out for me in particular. literally everything out of his mouth was some unpleasant dig, usually towards me, and he seemed to think it was really funny to shout "hurry up, cripple!" at me and got all surprised pikachu when I didn't respond positively. I put up with it for ed's sake, as he seemed desperate for social interaction and appropriately embarrassed regarding chris' behavior.

the prater incident, as it has infamously come to be known, occurred during my last meeting with chris (and to my knowledge, anyone else's. I'm pretty sure ed stopped talking to him after this, and good riddance)

so we roll back into vienna and martha has a suitcase in tow because she's about to fly back to the US at like five in the morning, a fact we're all trying not to think about because it's just too brutal. chris comes and grabs us, immediately makes some stupid comment about how I'm dressed like a vampire, and we decide to head down to donauinsel because it's still light out and it's hot as balls

the second we get there, the second we set down our stuff by the water, chris rolls a couple of joints and thankfully shuts up for a minute while we smoke. and then opens his wallet and asks without any leadup "okay, who wants ecstasy."

record scratch moment as I have a terrible premonition of the night ahead. but I open my hand because, like, come on. I'm not not going to do ecstasy.

it takes maybe twenty minutes to start setting in, by which time the other three have started skinny-dipping in the river. I abstained despite chris throwing barbed comments my way because I didn't want to mess up my clothes (a puffy ecru pussybow blouse and an embroidered black velvet vest with silver buttons), I didn't want this jackass to see me naked and have more to comment on, and I was at that moment sitting on a rock and holding onto it for dear life to keep from falling off the side of the planet.

they stumble out after a while, the sun is going down and it's starting to cool off, and while they get dressed it's decided that we're going to prater because we're already on the U1 and where else do you go when you can't get into the club because someone's got a suitcase and you're all on molly.

at some point we consume an entire bottle of jägermeister between the four of us, just standing around at praterstern, which in hindsight was honestly probably not the best idea.

it's at this time that martha decides she doesn't feel like walking.

"I don't wanna," she goes, about to just flop to the ground and making ed and I take one of her arms to keep her upright. we literally have to brace her and drag her along. for the medically concerned reading: she was fine. she literally just didn't feel like it and wanted us to carry her.

we ride bumper cars at some point? ed and I in one car, chris and martha in the other. I drive and ram into them repeatedly. the attendant has to shut the whole ride down at one point to take the last of the jägermeister off of chris, casting us all a knowing, disapproving look before letting us finish our time. he gives it to me personally as we walk off, because I was the least visibly fucked up. I apologize, he just shakes his head.

we transition to pickwick's at schwedenplatz and drink more, not that it's a good idea. chris puts his jacket on me for some reason and tells me I look stupid. I roll my eyes and go out to the canal and smoke one of his cigarettes. In a fit of drunken, drugged pettiness, I literally fling his jacket into the canal and watch it float away. he never notices when I come back in. I never hear about it again. he's so fucked up he won't remember a single thing until we get to the airport.

because that's another thing. all three of these jokers are blackout, and no matter how drunk or high or crossfaded I get, I'm cursed by god to remain perfectly, terribly lucid, no matter how much I beg and pray otherwise.

so that's why I'm the only one to remember later, while we're all standing around at the bridge across the canal:

oh shit. martha has to go to the airport. like. right the fuck now.

martha is honestly lucky to still be in possession of her suitcase. ed is staring off into the middle distance, gently waving back and forth like a reed in the wind. chris is babbling some bullshit about "I just don't want you to hate me", on the verge of tears.

"bit late for that," I say, wrenching his phone from his hands and ordering us an uber from his account. I shove the three of them in the backseat the second we get there, fling martha's suitcase in the trunk, and climb up front with the driver. I proceed to have what was, to that point, the most fluent conversation in german I've ever had in my life while mostly succeeding in appearing normal despite being fucked up beyond all recognition.

the driver's driving like he's running from god. I become aware that while it's certainly not mandatory that I vomit, I very much could at any point in time if I chose to do so. it was just a matter of making that decision.

we get to the airport in the nick of time. martha thinks she lost her phone. "we'll mail it to you," I say, hug her and kiss her on both cheeks, and practically shove her through to security. she later finds it in her back pocket when she sobers up a couple hours into the flight. of course.

ed and chris are starting to come to already, shuffling around in front of the spar by the train station at flughafen wien. we're all just trying to get our bearings, maybe eat something quickly before ed and I run back to linz.

"oh," I say quietly as I spot some airport police, in a voice that sounded like it was coming from very far away. "it's the gendarmerie." I'd just been in paris at the end of last year before the world ended, so the word is still at the forefront of my mind.

chris starts in on me again. "gendarmerie? gendarmerie? god, you're so pretentious, everything out of your mouth is the most ridiculous shit--" and on and on and on.

I look at him. I look him up. I look him down.

I remember that I still have certain options at my disposal.

BLEAURGHHHH

without warning, I bend right over and vomit all over his shoes.

ed immediately jumps to my side and frog-marches me to the bathroom, going "you'll be alright, you're okay, you're fine, let's go", and leaves me at the sink while he leaves with paper towels.

I glance at in the mirror, my complexion wan and my eyes shadowed, and lightly dab at my mouth with a tissue. I cock my head to the side.

I know I did it on purpose.

Chris knows I did it on purpose.

but no one will ever, ever believe him.

I make eye contact with my reflection and smile.

ed and I get on the train back to linz and don't say a single word. when we get back to his apartment I climb into the empty bathtub and lay there for several hours during the comedown. I never do see or hear from chris again, and it turns out that ed barely even remembers me puking on chris' shoes to begin with.

he remembers though.

that I'm absolutely sure of.

checkmate, you son of a bitch.

FIN