#next time ill manage to tell him that i love the performances. and also that FUCK that one stupid article

[imabiscuitinthousandworlds]

have finally reached that "staying out too late with friends" stage of life but the staying out late is the aftershow party of a theatre play and honestly i wouldn't have it any other way. and also! i made contact! relatively young person me n my friend clicked with (they work there and they're also queer and neurodivergent so. got along great) and we also taltled longer with that one actor i admire in every play i've seen him perform in and he's such a chill guy. theatre people are all so cool. it's So Cool

[seancekitsch]

Vox from Hazbin Hotel x siren! reader?? PLEASEE i love this concept sm-

i think i accidentally created myself an oc, also, if you spot the showgirls reference ill give you a cookie, this is inspired by the general flavor of moulin rouge and showgirls

“What the FUCK?!” you all but screech, throwing your blush frustratedly at your vanity. The small compact hits the cool marble, and immediately the product with the pan shatters, ruined. It was expensive. Fuck. 

“I- I don’t know what happened…” Jinni, a succubus, your assistant and opening act, stutters from the door. Scared. 

You deflate, rolling your eyes as you calm yourself and stop scaring the girl. You have to remember to stop raging near her. She’s young, too young. 

Overlords in the club mean a good tip, mean security, mean you and girls like Jinni make rent safely and have some fun money to toss around as well. You practically fall into your chair, yank a fake eyelash off as you sigh, ready to put on the next pair for your closing number. 

“There’s gotta be some reason the voice didn’t work on him,” you say, “I’m gonna find out why.”

“Are you sure thats a good idea?” Jinni asks, her tail curling around one of her legs. You have a soft spot for the girl, you really do. A place like this is gonna tear her apart; or at least, it would if you didn’t immediately take her under your wing. You pat the little chair beside you, and wrap your arms around the girl as soon as she takes the spot. 

You both stare at each other’s eyes through the mirror, sweat and make up blurred against your complexions, a reassuring smile spreads across your face. 

“I’ll check and see if he has the VIP package, and pull out the damsel in distress act,” you tell the little succubus, now cheek to cheek with her.  She smiles at you through the mirror, knowing full well you’re ready to ham it up.

“Thats your best one,” she says, and comes closer to pick up a body glitter for you. Jinni leans on the chair behind you, resting her forearms on your shoulders. You gaze at her while your hand moves with the brush across your face, at this point muscle memory kicks in, flawless. She’s why you still play nice, you think. 

“Gonna make sure you don’t have to go back to doggy chow for dinner,” you chide as you finish up your new look, a bit more dewy and innocent looking, as you shake her off and grab a lace robe to walk backstage in. Jinni laughs, and then takes your seat to take off her own make up. 

You’ve done this walk thousands of times, the long dimly lit hallway, all of the girls rooms hidden behind flimsy curtains and makeshift doors, signed by girls current and long since past. Your feet feel light below you, though nerves course through your veins. The patrons cheering is almost quieted here, all the quiet white noise that sets you ablaze in excitement and anticipation for another performance. 

But before the end of the hall can be reached, a meaty hand comes out to stop you, wrapping around your bicep. 

“Outta my way, Flicker, I gotta tell the sound guy to switch my track,” You turn your head away from the stage manager, not willing to take a face full of his calamari breath.  

“You ain’t goin’ out there again tonight,” he explains, “Got a private booking with a big spender.”

You sigh, right, just what you needed right now. You wish you could shoot a quick text to Jinni but… your phone is back in your dressing room with her. She’ll have to fair without you until this is over. 

“Right now?” you meet his eyes, and you can tell he wanted you in there five minutes ago. Shit. Well, here goes the girls' good tips for the night, you sigh, and turn towards the stairwell that leads you up to the private boxes. 

These rooms are gross; there’s no way to sugar coat it. You hate private bookings, much preferring to dance on the floor with any high spending patrons, giving them the girlfriend experience while you have the added safety of being able to slip away. These private rooms don't even have walls, more like private theater boxes so the managers can make sure you're keeping the clients happy. Up here, your talents are much more obvious, much harder to avoid blame.

You wonder what this guy will want. A champagne pour? A strip tease? Or worst of all, a dry hump or an over the pants job? You’d hate for this asshole to fuck up your costume or make up. That shits not cheap down here, and you only hope that after this private booking the overlord in the back of the hall might have loosened up and opened his wallets to one of the other girls or the house. 

But it still digs at you, like an old wound you cannot help but pick at… that your voice didn’t work on—

Him.

Its him. You can see through the sheer curtain the overlord in a suit. An old fashioned in his hand as he leans against the railing, the finale of the show tonight kicking into full gear below, all of the patrons like dogs on leashes waiting to be released to dance and party with the girls until dawn once the stage is clear. 

“Oh, Sir!” you call to him as you pull back the curtain, your flimsy robe fluttering behind you, “What is a man of your caliber doing in a place like this?”

Maybe you’re laying it on a little thick with the sultry little voice and the innocent act, but that’s what the men pay you for. He turns quickly, as if he didn’t expect you here so soon, but his smile quickly grows, teeth glowing against the low lighting of the private box. 

“What do you mean?” HIs voice is smooth as butter, “Is a man of MY caliber not supposed to admire beautiful things? Consider me a patron of the arts.”

You lounge yourself on one of the couches, effortlessly parting the bottom of your robe, kicking your legs up, really giving him a show. The boning of your costume digs into your ribs, but you don’t move. You always win over the higher spenders by laying out the feast for them. 

“Is that so?” you ask, a fake demure giggle leaving your lips, “Well then consider me confused, because you didn’t look so happy during my number earlier.”

The glow of his eyes distracted you, both out on stage earlier and now. His gaze intense, his posture rigid. 

“Maybe,” he trails off, crossing the little box until he’s in reach. One of his large hands wraps around your ankle, and then carelessly yanks your ankle off the couch to force you sitting upright. Okay, you’re only a little offended. Moreso intrigued by his seemingly complete lack of attraction to you. You drop your robe from one shoulder, baring more skin to entice him. Men are men, after all. He moves to sit at the other end of the couch. Maybe not all is lost, you think, as you pour a glass of champagne from the side table. The girl they threw on stage instead of you is killing this performance from what you can tell, and you know she’ll finish strong by the aerial rig set up and ready to go for her. You sip your glass as he sips his, and lean in closer to him, hoping that a little more proximity to him will help you figure out his deal. 

“But maybe I’m more wondering what the fuck someone like you is doing here,” he sneers as he stands, leaving you falling sideways into the space he vacated, nearly spilling your glass. 

“I- I beg your pardon?” you splutter, the sultry voice gone for a moment as you check to make sure you didn’t waste a drop of champagne on your robe.

“And stop with the agreeable little whore act, you can talk to me,” he winks at you as he says it,  red glowing eye rimmed with teal. You sigh as you brush yourself off from both he physical and metaphorical stumble. Okay, what does he know?

“Someone like me?” you ask, your real voice now dripping through. 

“Someone with power, darling,” The overlord says as if it’s obvious, “Someone with a talent like mine.”

He finishes his drink, and tosses the glass over the railing into the patrons gallery below.

“I could use someone with talents like yours,” he says, and your blood runs cold. You know what overlords mean when they say that. Your eyes dart to the curtain, to the hallway. If you shouted, would Flicker hear you? Wait- What are you thinking? He doesn’t give a rats ass about his girls’ safety. 

You do the only thing you can, you open your mouth to sing.

“Ah ah ah, nope,” he holds up a finger to silence you before you can begin, “That won’t work.”

You close your mouth, open it, close it again. 

“How did you know?”

If he knows, he can tell. If he tells, you lose money. Girls back on the street, you without a plan here.

His scowl turns to a smile, his eyes glowing brighter, circular rimming pulsating within his sclera. A funny tickle passes over you, as if he was blowing on you, gentle and odd. You furrow your brow, and then your jaw drops. You get it now. 

“Oh, Sir!” you play it up, ‘agreeable little whore’ voice as he called it back in full force, “I didn’t realize we were so evenly matched!” 

“I’m glad the smartest girl in this joint is also the prettiest,” he flirts, walking back over to the couch until he’s leaning on the arm of it. 

“How were you thinking of spending the evening mister…?” You stick to script if you trail off, not wanting to ask him outright what he wanted, now that you know what you’re dealing with.

He crackles, static, his glow dimming momentarily.

“Vox, darling. Where are my manners?” he finally introduces himself as he reaches over you for the bottle of champagne in the ice bucket and the other glass. He knows this game too, you realize, as his cologne wafts over you; something rich and woodsy. Attractive and expensive. 

“I’d like to offer my patronage, to your little,” he gestures around with the empty flute before pouring it, “artistic endeavors personally.”

That would be nice. A steady patron would mean steady money, steady numbers and acts, a bigger costume budget. His lap doesn't seem like a bad one to be perched on.

“Thats very generous, Mister Vox,” you say, holding out your glass for him to top it off, “But I can’t help but wonder what you want in return?”

His smile changes, less sharp, more real as he moves the neck of the bottle to your glass. He looks you up and down, scrutinizing every detail. 

“Your voice,” he goes on to explain, “For some important events, some advertising. I can make you a star, darling.”

It dawns on you that he hasn’t even asked your name, but then again you also weren’t going to give a client your real name. The entire idea is attractive, desirable. The patronage of a handsome powerful man, a legitimate name for yourself in the entertainment industry, security.

You reach upward clink your glass against his, urging him to clink yours back.

“You’ll have to win me over with a dance,” you tease him, your lips curling into a downright vicious smile. 

[hwangism143]

skz record (series m. list)

a/n: so. here we are. i'm finally writing an skz series. i'm also extremely terrified haha. this is a gift from me to you for hitting 100 followers. i love you all sm. also, send in an ask, dm me or reply to this post to be added to my taglist.

all the fics will be posted randomly. i can't wait for you all to read them <3 anyways pookies, tell me which one you're most excited for!!

✧.* hate to admit | (idol!bang chan x reader, exes to lovers)

╰┈➤ summer in australia before debut was one of chris's most cherished memories. his feet in the sand, the sun in his face and you in his arms. and then it was all gone. or so he thought. now that you're working for jype as a pr manager, he finds it extremely difficult not to fall in love with you - or your daughter

✧.* want so bad | (idol!minho x reader, enemies to lovers)

╰┈➤ jype was notorious for kicking out trainees who didn't perform well. you knew first hand when the company picked lee minho over you. and so, as a sweet form of revenge, you had risen through the ranks as one of the top k-pop choreographers in the industry. everything came full circle when you were asked to choreograph for stray kids. except, a certain childhood nemesis might make the lines between love and work blur indefinitely

✧.* doodle | (idol!changbin x reader, forbidden romance)

╰┈➤ changbin shouldn't want you. you're four years younger than him and work as a part-time barista at the gym he works at and a part-time tattoo artist. but it always has been said that people tend to crave the things that they can't get

✧.* love untold | (idol!hyunjin x reader, fake dating, stranger to lovers)

╰┈➤ hyunjin was enamored by you. yes, the two of you only had a sum total of one (1) conversation in a parisian art gallery but he was a goner. although, he knew, that he would never see you again. that was, until, he followed you on instagram - using his official account.

✧.* deep end | (idol!felix x reader, reverse grumpy x sunshine)

╰┈➤ it was no secret that felix loved volunteering. he loved going to the orphanage near the company for two reasons: the kids and you. you with your colourful tattoos. you with your small smile and witty remarks. you, who has stolen the key to felix's heart.

✧.* run | (idol!jisung x reader, friends to lovers)

╰┈➤ you and jisung had done almost everything together. that was the ill-fated result of growing up next to him. but when you both turned 15, he was in korea pursuing his dreams and you were home pursuing yours. finally, after 9 years, you both were reuniting. everything would be the same right? despite the wandering eyes, wandering minds...

✧.* stars and raindrops | (idol!seungmin x reader, former classmates to lovers)

╰┈➤ seungmin was tired of his life as an idol being so restricted. and so, when he happened to stumble open you in a park soaked by the rainwater, he took you up on your offer: attend your high school reunion with him. it's not like one night of alcohol and fun would make him want to see you again and again- right?

✧.* untitled | (idol!jeongin x reader, fake dating)

╰┈➤ with your company's ceo embroiled in scandal right before your first comeback, as leader you knew you had to do something. being a member of the self-producing girl group embr, you didn't know exactly what to do. luckily, your manager had a solution. unluckily, it involved fake dating yang jeongin - your ult bias and celebrity crush.

[ms-demeanor]

Jim and I didn't get along particularly well at work. It's not that I have problems with all the techs - I don't - it was that there was a kind of paternal attitude he gave off that sort of clashed between our personalities. His desire to be liked by me didn't help - he texted me photos of his ear piercings and showed me first when he dyed his hair. He was a kind, somewhat annoying middle-aged man who I didn't particularly want to talk to who wanted very badly to be cool and to get the approval of the youngest person in the office.

We just didn't have a lot in common. That changed in February 2019 when my spouse had a massive heart attack and was hospitalized. I wasn't even there when he went to the hospital; I was at work, getting ready to do a Monday Metal Mayhem show with my band in Hollywood.

My spouse - Large Bastard - had been getting pretty ill pretty frequently. We thought it was anxiety from dealing with his mother after a rapid one-two punch of my mother and his father dying. We were trying to accommodate her peculiarities - suddenly insisting that all the furniture in the house be moved, demanding that his father be interred at a cemetery close to her home instead of the one his parents are buried in - and thought that the stress of managing her in her grief was manifesting as panic attacks. It wasn't. It was heart failure.

So he was at home with his mother, and just two days before he'd had chest pains and we had gone for a drive and they'd gone away. "If it was serious, if it was a heart attack, it wouldn't calm down with a relaxing drive." So when he called me an hour before the end of work to say "hey, I'm not feeling great, my chest is hurting again" I asked him if he wanted me to come home instead of going to my show. He said "nah, don't worry about it. If it gets worse I'll go to urgent care."

He called me next from the hospital; I had put on my black lipstick and my fishnets for the show and was getting ready to pick up our drummer. They were sending him to a different hospital, one that could do bypass surgeries.

I don't remember much of my drive to the hospital, if I'm being honest. I got there quicker than the LA rush hour traffic should have allowed, and I went into the ER waiting room shaking from head to toe. Large Bastard was moving and joking; they'd given him morphine for the pain and were going to take him back to have an angiogram to see how bad the blockages in his heart were.

100% in three arteries and 95% in the other. He wasn't just sick, he was dying. His mother left the hospital, trying to bring in a priest to perform the anointing of the sick. I stayed, sitting in the ICU and talking to his nurse, who let me know that she thought they shouldn't wait for morning for surgery. I fell asleep in the chair holding his hand.

I left at shift change to get some food and fresh clothes, and when I came back I was shocked to find them prepping him for surgery - his mother was listed as the emergency contact for his insurance, not me, so nobody had called to tell me that he'd been bumped up on the schedule because of the severity of his illness. They were shaving his chest and putting a cap on his hair as they had him sign consent forms. He turned one over and scribbled something on the back before he handed it to me - it was the passphrase for his password manager.

We've done that a few times since then - when Large Bastard was admitted to the hospital with worsening heart failure in May of 2020, when he was being taken back for his heart transplant in March of 2021 - it's become a grim, loving little shorthand for us. He hands me a card that has his current passphrase written on it. It says a few cryptic words, but it also says: I love you, I'm scared, If I don't wake up here's what you'll need that I won't be there to give you.

Large Bastard spent nine days unconscious after his bypass, and a further two days after that in the hospital before he started a long, difficult road to recovery. And by a funny coincidence, so did someone else: Jim's wife.

Jim, twenty years older than me, was going through the same thing at the same time. His wife had a heart attack and ended up being at the same hospital as Large Bastard - the two of them ended up meeting in Cardiac Rehab and chatting about their spouses and the terrible office the worked for.

It was a nice little connection, and it made it easier for me to get along with Jim at work. We could commiserate about trying to cook tasty low-sodium food and how hard it was to get appointments; we could bitch about copays and talk about scars.

I started to kind of like Jim, even as he became more and more frustrating at the office. His work was kind of slipping, partially because of the time he dedicated to caring for his wife that would call him out suddenly for days. I was sympathetic - I had to drop work and go to appointments or the ER sometimes too.

But things kept getting worse and worse with Jim at the office. He'd be instructed on how to do a particular task one day, write up notes on it, and three days later wouldn't know how to accomplish the task. He must have been given a refresher on configuring DNS something like twenty times, and you never knew from one day to the next if he'd know how to do a task he'd been perfectly competent at a week before.

Eventually it started to get really nasty - Jim was fighting with our manager and the company president, his clients (including one of our biggest customers) were unhappy with his work and the way things never seemed to get done. Things were coming to a head and everyone could see the writing on the wall. Jim was going to get fired.

And I felt bad - I'd bonded with him, I knew he was a nice guy with a lot of rough stuff going on at home. Thankfully, the expected explosion never happened. Jim found something else, and he quit. He'd been looking for a while, tired of fighting with his managers.

And that's when we found out what an utter, lying piece of shit he was.

Look, I'm a big believer in lying on your resume and faking it until you make it, but I can't condone doing so in a way that puts your entire company - and the livelihoods of everyone who works there - at risk.

Jim hadn't just been forgetful about procedures and unpredictable with his schedule - he'd been faking all of the work he'd done for the last six months. The only reason the entire house of cards hadn't come tumbling down was because other techs had been filling in for him when he was out unexpectedly. Our big customer hadn't had a backup done in a year. Their servers hadn't been patched in months. They were unhappy with his work because he hadn't actually been doing any of the work that a level-3 tech should have been doing - he was unfailingly kind and polite while doing desktop support, which meant that the customer's employees loved him, but he'd been allowing their infrastructure to crumble around his ears.

And then we logged into their vault in our enterprise password manager.

Now, this company had had passwords set up by the best tech we ever lost; she is a good friend of mine and I adore her. She got the job the same way that I did: a referral through the infosec community that we're both a part of. So I know she knew security. I know shit was locked down on that account when she left.

When Jim left, we discovered that he'd changed every password he touched at this customer - our largest customer, both in terms of hours billed and in terms of users, with four locations nationwide and server setups we'd done in pennsylvania and texas - to "password."

Firewalls, servers, email addresses - it was all the same. "password," "password," "password," "password," no numbers, no special characters, no capital letters even. Just. The easiest possible thing to crack.

As soon as we realized that literally everyone in the company dropped everything else to do a furious behind-the-scenes audit of Jim's work. A new lead was assigned to that account and he's great at it, and we went through and fixed everything else that Jim broke. And I mean, I guess more power to you if you can fake your work for that long and still pull a paycheck to care for your spouse, but fuck you Jim because that lawsuit would have killed the business and meant the end of the income and insurance that I rely on to care for *my* spouse.

And this is just one example of why you should be exceptionally cautious about who you share your passwords with and when you share them. It's intensely personal and can do a ridiculous amount of damage if your password manager is compromised, which is why I'm going to show you how to set up your own personal, private, secure Bitwarden Password Manager so that you never have to worry about the Jims in your life.

Tech how-to article written like a recipe. Is that anything? Fuck it.

Old-Fashioned Setting Up a Password Manager

For this project you will need:

One computer

One full-featured browser

One pre-made email account, not shared and logged-in

2-5 possible passwords

5-10 accounts to get started with storing passwords.

Before you begin pre-load your computer, logging in to your email account. You can save later prep time by having your primary social media accounts, banking information, email account, and online bills ready to hand.

Go to bitwarden.com and select "create account"; be sure to select "free account" - you can jazz it up later but we're learning the basics now.

Create the account using your primary email address as the login name and one long (but not complicated!) password that you are certain you can remember but is not widely shared online. This is a great way to use information about your favorite movies or songs, not a great place for your kid's or pet's names.

Set up your password hint with a good reminder; be sure to note any punctuation you added, for instance a comma to separate lines of a song or an exclamation point between words of a movie title.

Verify your email account with the password manager, then set up a new password for your email. You may need a phone or access to your extant 2FA tools for this step. Create a login in the password manager, add your email address, and generate a new password, then save the entry. Go to your email account, select "security" and "change password" - enter your old password to confirm then paste your new password manager generated password into the provided text boxes, and save. Log out of your email account, then log back in with your new password. You will need to do this on all of your devices, so make sure you're using a password manager that is accessible across platforms - Bitwarden is recommended for a reason, this is a place where you don't want to skimp when making substitutions!

Repeat the process of resetting passwords to taste; you don't need to do everything all at once, but it's best to start with a serving of 5-8 to get used to the process.

Time: 30min to 2hr DOE Expense: Literally Free Value: Priceless i never have to remember a fucking password again and now neither do you.

[silly-mouse]

Hey^^!!! This is my first time requesting anything to anyone so im scared i might write/request something wrong sjdknnejej

bUT can I request an age regressor reader x cc!awesamdude where reader is regressed and is really interested in the mechanism of a rubix cube and sam's magic tricks?:0 like sam does the card tricks he showed on stream to tommy, and reader(who's kind of nonverbal) just makes high pitched hums and gasping noises to express themself and how they feel. The whole thing could be on stream where sam is live on twitch(tho reader is out of camera's view for privacy reasons and chat completely understands that) and chat is just awwing at the noises cuz they find it v cute:>

afab, they/them, body type is ur choice<3 YOU CAN SAY NO OR IGNORE THIS IF YOU WANT AJDKDKDJE

I dont love how this came out but im doing alot on my main blog atm plus christmas stuff (also i never saw sam do any magic tricks so i couldnt include that) so i deemed it good enough. Also wrote a thing about the possible things that happen when you send an ask bc everyone seems scared to send them but you have no reason- but it was long as shit so maybe ill post it as its own thing if yall think itll help your anxieties cause worst case scenerio is you get blocked but thats literally only if you request something like ragingly racist/homophobic/sexist etc or some nazi kkk level shit

Unspecified CC!Awesamdude x gn!reader, little!reader, nonverbal!reader, ~450 words, age regression

does anyone else hear the like whimpering?

where’s the baby???

SAM DID YOU MAKE BABY CRY

RISE UP CHAT WE TAKE HIM OUT AND BABY WILL BE SAVED

“Baby is right here and they’re fine,” Sam chuckled, watching his chat quickly move from ‘kill him, protect the baby’ to ‘baby content :DD you live another day.’ “They’re just playing with a rubix cube. Here,” he hummed, moving his mic arm so it was closer to where you were sitting on the floor, bundled up in your favorite blanket with your seal stuffie on your lap.

He remembered when he took you to the zoo and you spent half the trip watching the seals, telling him how much you wanted to hug one and how soft and squishy they looked. He ordered the plush that same night and gifted it to you the next time you regressed, watching it quickly become your favorite thing ever.

“Baby,” he gently hummed, smiling as he watched you look up with wide eyes, eager to hear anything he had to say. “Do you wanna say something to chat? They’re worried you’re upset.”

You pulled your sucker out of your mouth with a smack of your lips, leaning up to the mic. “...A...Ah,” you managed out, quickly popping your sucker back in. You couldn’t do it, Sam asked such a simple thing from you and you just couldn’t do it, you dissappoi-

“Good job, little one,” Sam chirped, his big hand settling on your head and gently scratching at your scalp. “Baby’s a little nonverbal today but they were so brave for you guys anyways, so everyone tell them ‘good job’.”

GOOD JOB BABY!!!

YOU DID SO WELL YOURE SO STRONG

AMAZING PERFORMANCE TELL SAM YOU DESERVE ICE CREAM FOR BEING SO BRAVE

YES SAM GIVE BABY ALL THE ICE CREAM THEY DESERVE IT

“Hmm, I don’t know,” he drawled with a coy smile. “What do you think, baby? They say you deserve some ice cream.”

You eagerly nodded, grabbing his offered hand in both of yours. “Mmm! Mhm mhm!”

“Yeah? You want me to make some milkshakes after the stream and watch some Disney?”

“Mmm!”

SAM IM GOING TO STEAL YOUR BABY

TOO FUCKING CUTE

BABY IS OURS NOW YOU DONT DESERVE THEM SAM

BABY I WOULD GIVE YOU ICE CREAM EVERY DAY!

“You guys can’t steal my baby! Nooo, they’re mine,” he whined, bending out of frame to plant a kiss on the crown of your head. He chuckled as you preened before your attention was stolen by your rubix cube again. “Alright, I’m gonna leave baby alone to their rubix cube. Now, let’s check over here…”

[swcetnight]

It’s Definitely You || kth. (m) 4

synopsis:

Working as a barista in NYC has its perks, but when your ultimate dream of being on the Broadway stage tends to come crumbling down, the only thing that raises your spirits is the comfort of a complete stranger… who seems to have known you for far longer than you thought.

masterlist here

→ pairing: taehyung x barista!reader (also musical theatre performer cause I had to)

→ genre: fluff, angst, future smut | strangers(ish) to lovers… i won’t give the truth away... gonna have to read and find out for yourself ;))

-> warnings: oc has a really… really bad day, rude customers, swearing, degradation, near sexual assault, panic attack, anxiety attack, mention of major character death, description of plane crash (be aware), kissing, making out, brief tongue action, sexual content

→ word count: 9.8k

authors note:

finally!!! we’ve FINALLY a made it to the next chapter of It’s Definitely You… I can not put into words how long this chapter took me, but i’m so beyond grateful that i was able to continue with this story cause we are SO CLOSE to getting the answers we’re looking for!!! i just want to say thank you to everyone who has been so so supportive and loving of this story— it means the absolute world to me that people are enjoying my writing and the story im telling! it’s so rewarding to know that i have people looking forward to the future chapters— almost as excited as i am to write them! thank you. from the bottom of my heart. i hope you enjoy!!

authors thanks:

thank you to everyone who has supported me thus far.. i’m sending all of you love! there was no beta-reader for this chapter, so bear with me if there are any mistakes!

please send in an ask if you like to be added to the tag list !!

also, if you are enjoying this story, please don’t hesitate to send me an ask (on or off anon) and let me know your thoughts, feelings, theories, etc!! i would love to hear from all of you!

It's been an awful day.

No, worse than awful. The moment you walked through the academia cafe's wooden doors, you knew you were doomed.

Usually, evening shift leaders are meant to prepare cold brews, pastries, and, ya know, other necessary necessities for coffee shops. Usually, they help by preparing everything so that it's easier on the openers (aka you and Jimin), especially since they open at such an early time. Much to your dismay, not a single thing was prepped for this morning's shift.

Screw you, closers!

Jimin was absolutely fuming. The human sunshine himself? Yeah, him. He was bursting at the seams, fire and chaos dancing in his usually sweet and softened eyes. The innocence of Jimin seemed to fade away the moment he clocked into an absolute mess of a morning shift, knowing that he, the shift leader, was the one who had to patch it back up. You had helped him as much as you could, but truth be told, it left a damper on the rest of the day.

Everything seemed to go downhill from there.

The cold brew machine broke, a mess of nozzles breaking off the spout, cold brew splattered across previously cleaned surfaces, and the already stressed Jimin doubled in his stress levels. The pastries also had no expiration dates, causing him to contact the manager on a tangent, questioning when said pastries would expire— and telling him that last night's shift leader did absolutely nothing.

You've never heard Jimin talk ill of someone until today.

And when Jimin wasn't happy, no one was happy.

On top of that, he spilled an entire cube of cream across the backroom floor, soaking his backpack and causing the cardboard boxes holding coffee beans to rip and tear. This left Jimin in tears, but you promised him that you would clean it up— not wanting to make things worse for the poor guy. So, there you were, on your hands and knees, cleaning the flooded backroom of creamy hell.

This was not an ideal morning, but you were happy to help keep some of the stress from falling onto Jimin's shoulders.

Oh! And that's not all.

You decided that wearing a white shirt to work was a good idea! Why did you do that, you wonder? Hell knows! All you do know is that the cream accident wasn't the problem; it was the matcha accident soon after when you dropped an open bag of bright green matcha on yourself, leaving behind green stains all over the white surface of your top.

Screw you, matcha!

After spending a solid ten minutes scrubbing most of the green out of your shirt, (and convinced you were also wiping away the last of your sanity), the doors opened, and customers were welcomed into the cafe. You couldn't help but notice their curious eyes dropping down and gazing at your clothing, which is slightly clouded with a green tone in a splotchy pattern.

You love your job. You love your job. You love your job.

That's what you're currently chanting to yourself as you sit in the backroom, eyes watery and breathing labored while your heavy head sits in your hands. You had decided to take a break after spilling hot coffee on a customer, who ended up cussing you out before leaving in a tizzy. You hated letting people down—even customers who were ungrateful and snarky.

You bow your head, closing your eyes in an attempt to empty your mind.

Everything's okay. It's fine.

You try to comfort yourself, reminding your anxiety-filled brain that you have a West End opportunity coming up and that it won't be long till you leave this barista job behind. No more angry customers. There would be no more splotched green clothing, unless it was the green paint for Elphaba's appearance in Wicked The Musical.

It's not that you want to leave the cafe, but you are hoping for a change. And to pursue what you truly wanted to. Being able to avoid awful days like these was just the cherry on top.

The idea of theatre works like a charm. Your heart rate slows, and breathing regains its composure. For a moment, your head empties as you lay it against the wall behind you. You wish this feeling would remain until the end of your shift, but, unfortunately for you, it doesn't last long.

The second you feel like you're ready to get back out there, lifting yourself from your "backroom corner of sadness" and making your way to the cafe floor, Taehyung is standing at the front register. Suddenly, all that pressure comes racing back and seeps through every part of your body, deep down into the tiniest crevices and leaving you a mess.

What is he doing here?

Should you take his order?

Maybe you should wait a little longer and let Jimin handle it?

When he looks up from his phone, probably in an attempt to see who would assist him, his eyes meet yours. It feels like your heart fully stops, hands clammy as you wipe them on your apron, begging for Jimin to come to your aid. Alas, Jimin is making a frappuccino on the bar farthest from the register. You're thankful when you see Olivia, one of your other co-workers, make her way to the counter, greeting Taehyung and taking his order so that you don't have to.

You know you're a coward. You know that you should talk to him, especially since he's standing right in front of you with a neon "perfect opportunity" sign shining brightly above his head. And no matter how badly your heart wants to, your cowardice is the barricade in the way of its pursuit.

Taehyung isn't looking at you anymore but looking at the menu overhead— another "perfect opportunity" for you to sneak past Olivia, avoid his gaze, and make it to the bar unscathed. Luckily for you, Taehyung doesn't say anything other than his order.

When he finally strolls back to his small table in the corner, his cookie dough latte is in hand (courtesy of Jimin because you were too scared to make it-- assuming that you'll mess it up and embarrass yourself). Still, despite not having the courage to talk to him, you can't help but find yourself staring.

The last time you saw him was when you kissed him in your dream. When he had his warm arms around you, enveloping you in his gentle hold. They are now covered by a grey sweatshirt which keeps your eyes from wandering along the muscle beneath. The last time you saw him was when he kissed you and said he loved you. Taehyung loves you. Well, at least in your dream. But, God, how you wish it were real.

Instead, you're faced with the true reality: Taehyung's usually comforting eyes cast away from your own and a brick wall placed between the two of you, just waiting to be smashed down.

And it's all your fault.

"You're staring." Jimin coos from beside you, giving you a nudge with his arm. You offer him a glare that could pierce through the aforementioned brick wall, clearing your throat as you reach for the next order ticket. Jimin exhales in dissatisfaction, "You should just talk to him already."

"Wasn't that your job?" You question, remembering back to when Taehyung had asked to see Jimin last week. For the "project." A part of you believes that his need to vent was not regarding the theatre article. It was regarding you.

"Yes. It's my job to tell you that you should talk to him. This has gone on long enough, and no matter how much I loooove being a middleman to you, this is just getting ridiculous," Jimin states, his voice laced with the sound of sarcasm and exhaustion… You make a mental note to call him later and tell him how much you appreciate him. He's shaking his head as he finishes off another latte with the art of a flower, a creamy design atop the light brown surface.

It would be best if you still asked Jimin for latte art lessons, too.

Jimin continues, "Anyway… you should. He probably wants to talk it out just like you do."

You glance back over to Taehyung, whose head is now resting on his palm, looking over what you would assume to be notes for his project. You take a moment to appreciate his solitude, running your eyes across his loose black sweatpants and grey sweatshirt. You've never seen him this home-like before— but you're not complaining. Not in the slightest.

Even though he's looking at the paper, his eyes seem out of focus — what was he thinking about?

"Am I gonna get some help here, or should I leave?" A rough voice snaps, drawing your attention to the front register where a semi-tall man stands with an unsatisfied expression on his face. You take in a short breath, apologizing profusely as you scurry over to the register and eagerly ask for the man's order.

"Shouldn't you be doing your job?" The man continues, unamused, his voice spitting fire across the register and straight into your nerve endings. You pause, glancing up at him and wondering if you heard him correctly. Who the hell was this guy? He's removing his credit card from the back of his phone when he barks out his order. "A four-shot americano. Just black. Got it?"

You nod slowly, heart rate spiking at the man's tone of voice before you glance back down at the register screen. Usually, rude customers don't bother you all that much… but today, after everything that has happened earlier in the morning, you can't help but feel the stinging at the back of your eyes sooner than you expected. You were already close to crying before, but now it's as if it's going to spill out at any moment.

Don't cry. Don't.

You steal a shaky breath, tapping his order onto the register screen.

The man chuckles in an irritated manner. "Do you even speak?"

"Sorry… I uh— Uhm," you clear your throat anxiously, "is there anything else I can get for you today?"

The man bends down slightly, resting his hands on the counter with a sardonic grin glued to his face. You've never felt so uncomfortable in your life. His eyes pan over your name tag that sits on your apron. "Y/n."

Hearing your name formed on his lips makes you even more uncomfortable, which you thought was impossible. Apparently, you were wrong.

"I'll get started on your Americano… It'll be three thirty-nine." You say quietly, motioning for him to pay as you step over to the bar in hopes of getting as far from him as you can. Your hand shakes as you pick up the cup, pulling shots and placing it down below the espresso machine. Looking to the side, you spot Jimin talking to a customer about their order, totally unaware of the situation at hand.

"Make it extra good for me, yeah?" The man says, almost seductively, ignoring his card in the chip reader and focusing his attention on you.

You give him a nod, throat constricted with anxiety as you attempt to calm your shaking hands, spilling the tiniest bit of an espresso shot down the side of the cup. You tend to it quickly, wiping the trail of brown with a rag before drying your hands on your apron. You're thanking your bar skills, having been able to finish it quickly, before you're handing it to the man who is still grinning in your direction.

"Here you go, sir… Have a great day." You paint a smile on your face, which is smeared at the corners of your lips, unable to hide your ever-growing discomfort.

It's the moment you turn to walk towards Jimin that he speaks up again, voice deeper than before.

"Did you put in four shots?" He challenges, staring down at the cup in his calloused hands with a disgusted expression.

"Yes, sir." You respond.

"Then why does it look like you missed it?" He utters, turning it in his hold and showing you a line of espresso falling down the side. You missed a spot. Usually, it wasn't a big deal, but you can feel your heart drop to the floor.

"I paid for four shots. Is this a joke to you?" His voice grows louder word by word, echoing in your ears as your voice wavers in response.

"I'm.. I'm really sorry— I can remake it for you if you'd—"

"I'm going to be fucking late." He sneers, pushing the coffee cup forcefully in your direction before he leans across the counter. His eyes rake you up and down, and you swear you stop breathing. "You should make this up to me in a different way, yeah?"

You can't think straight. This was the first time in your life where you actually felt fearful of losing it. The man is staring at you, every inch of him screaming what your mother always warned you about: "stranger danger." A smirk returns to his face before you hear Jimin's footsteps behind you.

"Excuse me-"Jimin starts, voice strained in frustration, but before he can say another word, Taehyung is beside the man with his hand gripped onto his arm.

"I think it's time for you to leave," Taehyung says, voice low and eyes laced with disgust as he turns the asshole in his direction. Taehyung, although his build isn't as buff as the poor excuse for a man before him, he's still taller than him— and every part of you hopes that this guy would be intimidated. Taehyung hands the drink back to the customer, his stare unwavering. "It's four shots. So take it and leave."

The man scoffs, backing up from the counter with disbelief written on every inch of his face. "Who the hell are you?"

You look at Taehyung, whose hand is balled in a fist as he removes the customer's card from the reader with the other, holding it up to glance at the name. He looks absolutely livid, though his voice is controlled when he speaks. "Jared Stone, is it?"

The man stumbles forward to snatch his card quickly, eyes boring into Taehyungs.

"I'm a journalist." Taehyung continues, calmly, "And unless you want your name written in the newspaper, I'd suggest you leave before I pick up my pen."

You can tell that this "Jared" is starting to falter, believing Taehyung's slight fib, his arms lowering a bit as Taehyung glares at him with the most intense look you've seen on his beautiful face. Taehyung is usually all smiles-- kind eyes with a gentle tone. Like soft snowfall. His surface of genuity hides his ability to be cold and direct. Now, he's anything but soft. His hand is still sporting a fist, and he jerks his head in the direction of the door, coaxing Jared to leave the cafe as soon as possible.

"Fucking asshole," Jared mumbles under his breath, clocking Taehyung in the shoulder with force as he makes his way to the door, throwing his Americano down and splattering hot coffee along the tiled flooring. Customers gasp quietly as he bangs the door open, disappearing amidst the crowd outdoors as you struggle to catch your breath.

What the hell just happened?

"Are you okay?"

You glance back at Taehyung, his dark yet soft eyes studying your face as he once-overs your appearance.

"He didn't touch you, did he?" Now his voice is wavering; the cold lace in his voice is gone and replaced with concern. He's staring at you with every ounce of that concern plastered across his face. You can't help the flutter of your heart in response to having his attention again… the attention of the one person who has been ignoring your existence the past few weeks. But then again, what have you done to help that? Absolutely nothing.

Maybe that's why he looks away once you confirm that you're alright. Maybe that's why he gives you a nod and a "good" before making his way back to his table, albeit a little timidly. Maybe that's why he doesn't question you further and leaves you standing at the counter like a lost puppy, hopeful for the return of the one who loves you most.

When he said he loved you? That was a dream.

You can feel your lower lip quivering as you turn and rush to the back room, Americano frenzy left in your wake as you curl into yourself in the corner. You'll clean it up in a moment.

You know this is just a bad day out of many-- but it feels like everything has been going wrong. What you wanted most at this moment was the same touch of the man who haunts your dreams. You wish he would hold you and tell you that everything was going to be okay. And the one thing that used to be steady and solid was Taehyung's friendship. Now, even that is ruined.

You make a mental note to speak to him as soon as possible… but you feel way too small right now to even dream of being confrontational.

Maybe that's why you end up crying in the back room, alone, back to your "backroom corner of sadness" with smears of green atop your shirt and spilled coffee on your hands.

You're dreaming again.

It wouldn't take much convincing to know this fact, especially since this dream seems to pick up from the exact spot that your airport dream left off. It was the same lights that shone overhead like a glowing halo, the same aching yet excited feeling in your chest, the same brown backpack carry-on you're currently throwing over your shoulder. You definitely didn't pack light, even for your carry-on, so you can't imagine how heavy your actual luggage is.

How did you even pass luggage check-in?

—

Your thoughts wisp away as soon as the dream jumps to you sitting in your seat, evident from the low whirring of the engine and the uncomfortable leather seat you're sitting in. You've never been a huge fan of planes, since your parents thought it was a good idea to watch "Lost" in front of you right before one of the bumpiest plane rides of your entire life. Ever since that day, you've always been nerve-wracked while flying.

If Taehyung were here, it would probably be easier.

You knew that he wanted to come. You knew that he wanted to be your support system in person, especially during this time of excitement — but he had work and projects, and you had promised him that you'd survive a mere month without his hand to hold. You'd claimed that he would be your "virtual" hand, that you would think of him whenever things got tough, or you felt like you couldn't keep going. After all, he was only a call away.

He had said that he was grateful for this fact. And to stay safe. So, you plan to.

You're too busy admiring the blue sky above, clouds dancing, and creating shapes that only an artist's mind could see. You can see rabbits and dragons hidden within the layers of fog that make up the clouds. You're far too distracted to notice an old woman seating herself beside you. It's when she speaks that you finally fix your attention toward her.

"Is this seat taken?" The old woman smiles. She has light grey hair, kind eyes, and wrinkles that define her age to be over 60 at least. Despite this, she looks youthful and friendly, which makes your nerves feel lighter.

"No, it's all yours!" You return said smile, nodding to her as she places her carry-on beneath her feet. It's an embroidered floral bag; pink flowers cross in zig zags atop the brown surface.

"Where are you headed?" She questions, setting her wrinkly hands on her lap.

You smile gleefully. "I'm going to London, actually!" You can't help but laugh at the old woman's shocked expression.

"Wow! That's quite the plane ride you have ahead of you! It'll be worth it once you're there, though." She seems genuinely excited for you, unabashedly clapping her hands and heightening your excitement even more. You offer her thanks before resuming your study of clouds.

—

You wish you could control this dream, just to bask in the excitement for a little bit longer— but time skips abruptly to the takeoff, engine revving like a loud roar from a lion as it gains speed down the runway. For a moment, your heart palpitates, nerves returning full-fledged. Take off and landing is your least favorite part of flying, fearing the worst.

Within seconds, you feel a warm hand placed on yours. The old woman is smiling kindly at you, rubbing your skin gently in a nurturing way before she looks at you fondly.

"My husband was afraid of flying." She says, squeezing your hand before she resumes looking forward.

"Really?" You question.

"So much so that he used to grip my hand like a stress ball, absolutely crushed my fingers." The two of you laugh, a fond smile playing at her lips, which deepens the wrinkles on either side and makes her smile appear even larger.

"How did he get over it?" You ask, distracting yourself from the upward tilting of the plane that's finally taking its flight. A metal bird on solid wings that you have to keep reminding yourself of its purpose: to fly, not to fall.

"He just held onto me." She shrugs. "He passed away a few years ago, but we used to face all of our fears together. He said that I always made him feel safe enough to face anything."

"He must've been brave. I would have still been terrified." You laugh quietly, holding your breath as the plane finally takes its flight and dips the slightest bit.

She's smiling and laughing in response, a warmth of admiration crossing her features. "I don't think so; he was absolutely shaking."

"Poor guy, he must really love you to face that fear." You respond, finally calming down when you see that the plane has reached high enough without any issues. It allows you to reach down and grab a piece of gum from your bag, which you assume would make the popping of your ears cease.

"He did."

You smile fondly as you pop said piece of gum into your mouth, mint exploding across your tongue. The old woman and her husband remind you a lot of your relationship with Taehyung. He's your safety net, who made you feel as if you could achieve anything.

You loved him.

"Remember," the old woman starts, "tell your loved ones that you love them. You never know how long you have with them."

Your smile fades then, seeing her eyes slowly churn with gratitude, yet she can't hide the fact that she so obviously misses her husband.

"I'm so sorry for your loss.." You whisper, solemnly smiling towards the woman beside you.

"It's okay…" She pats your hand. "We'll be reunited soon enough."

—

Cell Phone Reminder Added:

Tell Taehyung you love him when you land.

—

Another time jump, and this time you can feel the turbulence jostling you within your seat, adding shock to your already fearful state. Your hands are still holding the old woman's hand, and tears are pricking at the back of your eyes like a prodding needle. You've been silently telling yourself that you're going to be okay for the past fifteen minutes, and yet every moment spent on this plane sends you into fifteen different stages of fight or flight mode. Mostly flight mode. You could probably fly this plane better than the pilots.

The loudspeaker crackles.

"Ladies and gentlemen, we're experiencing some weather changes. Please keep your seatbelts fastened in the meantime, and we'll be through it soon."

You wish you could say that the announcement eases your nerves, but the second bump of turbulence sends you nearly flying out of your seat, hushed whispers filling the nerve-riddled cabin. Obviously, you weren't the only one within this aircraft that was nervous. You can feel the old woman squeezing your hand again, but even she can't hide the look of terror upon her face.

Another intense jump of the aircraft sends your eyes squeezing shut, legs holding you still by the seat in front of you. You're confident that the passenger seated there is probably too distracted by the turbulence to be annoyed with your childish antics of seat kicking.

Another crackle of the loudspeaker nearly makes your racing heart stop beating.

"Fasten your seatbelts, prepare for turbulence and please remain calm… Fasten your seatbelts, prepare for turbulence and please remain calm…"

The message is repeating like a chant.

Suddenly, a loud crack of thunder and spark of lightning sends the lights of the cabin flickering once, twice, then completely turning off, leaving you in the dark both literally and figuratively. A sudden lurch downwards has you yelping, searching out the window for a sign of safety, but you're met with near darkness from the thunderous clouds around you, which block any form of vision.

The cabin is loud now. Cries and shouts are heard around you as you cover your ears in an attempt to regain control of your fear.

You'll be okay. It's gonna be okay. Just breathe…

Another plummet downwards forces the tears out of your eyes, a muffled scream filling your hands when your stomach jumps up and into your throat. Within seconds, the oxygen masks from above come falling down, and it takes you merely another second to reach for two of them, helping the old woman who is frozen in shock beside you to get her mask on before putting on your own.

You suddenly hear a piercing voice over the loudspeaker, which is crackling even more intensely than before. You hate that loudspeaker more by the second.

"Please prepare for impact."

That's when the screams of neighboring passengers start. A baby wailing in the back of the cabin has the tears pouring quickly down your cheeks. You can't think. You can't see. You wish you could turn on your phone and call Taehyung, but the repetitive swooping downward of the plane knocks you of your senses.

All you can do is remember the smile on his face while waving you goodbye. The loving eyes of a man who loves you. His soft hair flowing as he does a happy dance before you disappear around the corner-- a large smile present on his lips as he continuously sends finger hearts your way.

You wish you could tell him you love him too.

You pray that you will see him again…

It's when you finally underpass the clouds and see the ground quickly coming closer and closer that you stop crying, absolute terror freezing your body, and an immediate wash of acceptance overtaking you. The ground is coming on fast.

This is it.

It seems that every second that passes, another giant swoop of the aircraft takes its ascent. A single tear falls down your cheek when you're merely ten feet away in the plummeting plane.

The last words from your mouth are sincere and quiet:

"I love you, Tae."

A roar rumbles in your ears. You can feel an initial strike of pain from the ground's impact, muffled screams filling your ears, and then…

You jolt upright, a loud shriek escaping your lips as you grasp for any form of life that you can. This form of life happens to be your Phantom Of The Opera blanket, which you tug upwards while frantically scooting back towards your headboard. You can feel the sweat sticking to the polar bear pajamas that hug your legs, clinging to the material and making you feel even more claustrophobic than you already are. Your eyes are blurry, breathing heavy, and your heart is running a mile a minute.

For a moment, you think you're still on that plane. That you're hitting the ground with force and praying to stay alive.

It's only when your surroundings settle in; your warm yet sweat-covered bed sheets, wooden bedside table that is littered with pictures of you and your friends, and the low rumble of a storm outside; only then are you able to catch your breath.

Only then do the tears come crashing down, a tsunami of racing beats of your heart, and the teardrops that fall against your t-shirt.

It felt so real.

And yet it wasn't, you remind yourself, raising your teary eyes to see the "Wicked The Musical" poster that hangs like a trophy on your wall, flashes of lightning brightening the shadow of the window against said poster. Despite knowing that it was all a dream, you can't help but feel as if you're still falling. As if you're dead right at this moment and unable to accept that fact.

What if you are?

This thought scares you, the tears falling again as your hands tremble towards your nightstand in search of your phone. Once found, It's a quick venture for your contacts before you're pressing the call button.

Calling Kim Taehyung…

You bite your lip, the ringing on the line endless as if it was mocking you and your will to be alive.

"This is Kim Taehyung; sorry I couldn't get to the phone right now. Please leave your name and number, and I'll get back to you as soon as possible. Thank you."

You try again.

Calling Kim Taehyung…

No answer.

Again.

Calling Kim Taehyung…

"Please pick up." You whisper, face crumpling at your lack of luck. Taehyung had always been so quick to answer you, but the flashing red of your nightstand alarm clock is reminding you of what time it actually is:

3:00 AM.

"This is Kim Taehyung; sorry I couldn't get to the phone—"

He's probably sleeping, yet you ignore this possibility and attempt to reach him one more time, cutting off the last call and immediately pressing the call button again.

What if you're actually dead? What if this is your life flashing before your eyes? What if—

A tired voice croaks across the line after just a few more rings. "Hello?"

"Taehyung?" You say, your tone panicked and shaking— which is very obvious since his once tired voice is suddenly wide awake when he responds.

"Y/n?" You can hear the rustling of his sheets, probably from him sitting up in alarm. "What's going on, love?"

You don't even register his slip, voice hiccuping from the sobs that are currently racking your throat. If it weren't for your complete lack of brainpower right now, you would probably be embarrassed by the sounds coming out of you. But how could you possibly not cry after a dream like that?

"Where- Where are you?" You question, clinging to your comforter as another round of sobs are released from your constricted throat.

"Hey, hey, it's okay, I'm here." His voice gently whispers, rustling continues, and suddenly you can hear his muffled footsteps over the line. "It's okay, talk to me.. what's going on?"

You blubber a bit, unable to form coherent words, but another hush from Taehyung and an "it's okay" helps you to get your words out.

"I had a- a dream. It was a plane crash, Tae." You cry, breathing slowing down ever so slightly. Your mind is still foggy, but you can feel your consciousness slowly coming back. "Where are you?"

There's dead silence on the line, the previous rustling and footsteps coming to a halt. For a moment, you think you lost him.

"Taehyung?" You whisper, another sob threatening your voice.

"Y/n." His tone is suddenly serious. "Stay right there. I'm on my way, okay? Just breathe. I'm coming." You can hear a jingling of what's most likely his keys and the door slamming shut. "I'm coming. Stay there."

"Okay." You sniffle quietly, hearing the line cut off, and you're left in the silence of your room once more. Without Taehyung's voice to distract you, the heart that beats rapidly in your chest seems to intensify its speed. Why had he gotten so serious after you told him what your dream was?

Ignoring this thought, you quickly lean over to turn on your light, which drowns the once darkroom in rich golden color.

You can see the polaroid pictures of you and Taehyung next to the wicked poster. He's smiling that same boxy smile that lights up a room, his eyes watching you pose for the picture. Not once did he look at the camera, you notice— his eyes were constantly on you. As if you could disappear at any moment, so he had to soak up as much as he could.

Although seeing him smile made your aftershock body relax just the tiniest bit more, you can still feel the fear within you.

You can still feel the initial pain of contact from that plummeting aircraft as it hit the earth's surface. It was as if it actually happened.

The scariest part?

A part of you is almost certain that it did.

He arrives quicker than you thought he would, a loud knock on the door disrupting your dazed-out state, which you haven't moved from since he hung up. If someone saw you at this moment, they would probably think you're crazy. Honestly… with how vivid that dream was… you probably are.

It took about five minutes of sitting there in the silence of your room for the regret to start sinking in; regret for forcing Taehyung up and out of bed at three o'clock in the morning when he could be happily asleep right now. But the moment you open the door, all your regrets cease at the sight of him.

He's got an extreme case of bed head, which he's attempting to hide with a beanie, but his hair is still wildly soaring this way and that— which you probably would've laughed at if it weren't for the circumstances. His face is drenched in concern, and a jacket is thrown haphazardly over himself, which seems to be partly off of his figure from what you'd assume was him running. He had to have been, judging by his labored breathing and snow-covered sweatpants that are painted with white up to his knees.

If you were in your right mind, you would probably be beckoning him in by now— but the only thing you can think to do is cry.

And that's exactly what you do.

You swear you see his own features crumple too, but his arms are around you before you can fully comprehend if you were seeing correctly, solid and warm as his embrace melts into you and consoles your beating heart. He rubs the back of your head with his hand, whispering into your ear and reminding you that everything's okay. The breath that fans along the skin of your cheek is warm and gentle, softening your erratic puffs of breath.

Within moments, he's removing his hat, discarding it on the table, and slowly moving you to the couch before seating himself beside you. His arm only leaves your back when you're fully seated, but it's quickly moving in front of you so that he can hold your hand. Constant touch. Constant reassurance. He's so good at calming you despite barely having to do it before… It's like he already knows what to do. Suddenly, he's the same boy from the rooftop—the same warm and comforting expression and the same soft hands that hold your own.

His smooth, deep voice breaks through your sniffling and thoughts. "Can you tell me what happened?"

With a nod, you begin explaining your dream. It might be all in your head, but Taehyung's face continues to grow paler and paler as you tell him the details. A shell shock look overtakes him in a way that makes your skin crawl. Maybe it's because it was such a dark dream; perhaps that's why he reacts the way he does. But it looks as if he had gone through it himself. His eyes are falling everywhere but on you, and his hand is steadfast on your own and gripping onto it like a lifeline.

"Y/n…" He whispers, his dark chocolate eyes resting on your hands— you try to ignore the fact that you notice a swarm of tears pricking his lower lash line. You don't have the right to call him out for expressing emotions, not after begging him to come over at three in the morning.

Still, "it was just a dream," you assure. Stating this seems to calm the last of your own fear, the weight within your chest dissipating to a dull ache-- still present but bearable.

"Yeah." He nods, quickly wiping the tears away and passing it off for brushing his hair out of his eyes. "It was just a dream." And despite this fact that bursts from his lips, you can still hear the fear within his voice. You don't want to question him in hopes that you'll avoid upsetting either one of you further… you've shed enough tears for one night.

Yet when he leans towards you to wrap his arms around you, tears remain tauntingly behind your eyes. His heart is beating rapidly beneath the thin material of his jacket, thundering hooves of a horse at full speed.

It reminds you a lot of your own heartbeat that night on the rooftop. Your heart too was beating fast enough to possibly jump out of your chest, taking you down the stairs and out of his sight before you had the chance to say no. Suddenly, his warm embrace feels cold. You still haven't talked to him about that night.

Talk to him.

You breathe, "Taehyung."

He hums in response, low and gravelly with his evident exhaustion.

"I'm sorry." You confess.

Taehyung removes you from his embrace, turning you towards him. "It's okay, Y/n. I'm here, and everything's okay now. Like you said, it's just a dre-"

"No." You interrupt, breathing deeply to summon up the courage you've never possessed. "I'm sorry for running away that night."

He stays silent for a moment. He's obviously connecting the dots and slowly coming to terms with what your apology was truly meant for. You can't blame him for being confused since you ignored each other for weeks before you called him over at three in the morning because of a silly nightmare. It's when his gentle eyes slowly meet yours that you know he's on the same page. He still doesn't say anything.

"I'm sorry for being scared… I've never really experienced something like that, and I just… I ran like a coward." You fiddle with your fingers, the soles of your feet gliding against the carpet beneath them. "I'm not used to having someone in that way. An intimate way, I mean…" Your cheeks flush. "I've never even kissed anyone until that night."

"Y/n." He whispers, drawing your eyes back to his fond expression. He's looking at you in a way that makes your heart churn: soft, warm, understanding, and loving… all of this hidden within the chocolate of his irises. Gentle Taehyung. "I was too forward. That was completely my fault. I felt like I pushed my luck… and I didn't want to come across as overbearing, so I just felt it was better to distance myself. I didn't want to make you feel like you had to do something you didn't want to. I didn't want to hurt you."

His words are like a warm hug around your wavering heart. You didn't really think about how embarrassed he might have felt, giving his heart to you only to have it left on that rooftop in the cold chill of winter.

You know that you have to make it up to him.

There's a pause of silence in the room, deafening your senses… which must be the only reason why you have the confidence to say:

"Kiss me."

Taehyung looks baffled.

Well, it's too late now.

"A do-over." You add.

Taehyung looks torn, yet his eyes are glued to yours. You try to avoid his gaze, even though you were the one who mentioned kissing in the first place.

Finally, he whispers, "Y/n…"

"Kiss me… I promise I won't run." You explain, words nearly catching in the back of your throat from your increasing nerves. You really didn't think this through.

Taehyung's frozen; the color that was once gone from his face when you told him about your dream is now rushing full force back onto his cheeks. It warms your soul. He looks almost like a child but with an intensity that is anything but childlike. You can nearly feel your heart drop into your stomach.

"Are you sure?" He questions, eyes never leaving yours.

You nod. "I'm done being afraid."

And that's all he needs.

He's slow, like the tide on a lazy river, full of gentleness and cautiousness to ensure that you won't fall overboard. That you won't run away.

And you don't.

It feels like years until his lips are placed delicately on your own, as still as a rock but warm and soft to the touch, beckoning you into its heat. Taehyung is testing the waters, moving his lips ever so slightly against yours… as if he was questioning whether or not you truly wanted this. So, in a trance, you slowly move your lips against his in return, parting them and sinking into the motion.

It seems that this was the only way to reassure him, and you must have done something right— seeing as his hand strays from your wrist and works its way up your arm. His touch leaves behind a trail of goosebumps snaking along your skin, his brows cinching as he leans in even closer to you, and finally parts his lips against yours, dipping to capture your lower lip between his.

If you said you weren't inwardly freaking out for a moment there, you would be lying. Not once have you ever kissed anyone like this. But this is Taehyung, and for some reason, after the initial shock, it feels as if you both have kissed dozens of times. It feels right. Good.

His hand is now snaking around your neck, pulling you in even further, which you didn't think was possible. You swear you can feel your heart jump into your throat when a soft moan escapes his lips as he sneaks his tongue along the line of your lips. Not knowing what else to do, you part your lips for his access.

Not once has a boy been able to give you the shivers, and yet here Taehyung is lowering the last of your resolve when his tongue slides into your mouth. Your face turns beet red when a hiccup uncontrollably constricts your throat.

Taehyung stops abruptly, breathing out softly and distancing himself by only a fraction, probably to make sure you're still alive while still being encompassed in your warmth. You're definitely alive. Still, you feel as if you have to pinch yourself to make sure.

A smile sinks onto his lips, and your heart flutters at the low chuckle that meets your ears. He's perfect… in every way. Your heart clenches from pure adoration for the man in front of you. He's all smiles, lips kiss bitten and eyes soft and gentle... Without being able to restrain yourself, you move back towards him and meet his lips once more.

Like a switch, Taehyung responds a bit quicker this time, resuming his tantalizing routine with his tongue within your mouth. His breath is hot, mingling with your own when you stretch your arm up to place your hand within the softness of his wavy hair. You feel as if you're starting to get the hang of this, smiling a bit and tilting your head to the side to deepen the kiss. You swear, the moment you release your own small sound (that you'll probably be embarrassed thinking about later), Taehyung becomes even more heated. He holds the sides of your face gently as if you're made of glass, but his lips say otherwise as they kiss you roughly.

Taehyung moves with you, laying you down on the couch so that he's hovering over you, carefully moving your legs with one hand to keep them from being crushed. All the same, he's keeping the smallest of distances between the two of you. Once you're fully situated, he finally takes the initiative to lay his weight down as his kiss deepens. You can feel the shock and sizzling heat traveling down to your stomach, making your head spin wildly— and obviously, Taehyung feels it too, judging by the low groan that breaks free from his lips.

"I missed you, Y/N." He breathes between kisses, transferring from your lips to your chin, to the side of your face, all the way over so he can take your earlobe between his teeth which sends shockwaves throughout you. How is he so good at this?

You agree with a hum, another small whimper escaping you as he continues his venture down to your neck.

"I mean it… I missed you so much." He repeats, pausing his movements to meet your lips again with a gentle kiss. He strokes your face with his free hand, the other clasped within yours (which you hadn't even noticed they were intertwined until now). "I miss you."

There's a break in his voice, and the slight tremble of his lower lip is throwing you off. Was he about to cry? A second ago, he was devouring you, and now he sounds like a lost puppy. Bless his soul.

"I'm right here." You whisper, running your hand through his hair to push his bangs out of the way. You want to get a good look at him, make sure he's okay. You ignore the catch in his throat.

"I still miss you." He repeats.

It takes a moment before he shakes his head, laughing with a quiet "sorry" before he sinks back down to kiss you. You don't question him further. In fact, you're too busy freaking out to question him further. You don't know where it came from, but a sudden surge of boldness overtakes you, and you're reaching for the lapels of his jacket, shifting it slightly.

Taehyung doesn't seem to be thrown off and is quick to respond, sitting up to remove it and throw it on the ground beside the couch. He's no longer damp from the sleet outside, but warm beneath.

With another deep kiss and a dip of his hips (which is stealing all the remaining breath out of your lungs), he reaches for the bottom of your shirt.

Just when you're about to move his hands up in an effort to get this shirt off, he pauses. You squirm a little, wanting skin-on-skin contact as soon as possible— but Taehyung is frozen.

"You okay?" You question, heat rushing to your cheeks at the notion that he might be overwhelmed. Maybe he doesn't want this much of you.

You're such an idiot.

You hold your breath. "If you don't…" You begin, eyes running in every direction, "… if you don't want to, that's oka-"

"No, no. No." He shakes his head quickly, a gentle smile tugging at the corner of his lips… yet he still seems hesitant. "That's not it. Believe me. I want to."

You can feel your stomach flutter. He could lift one finger, and he'd have your heart soaring.

"It's just…" He pauses, breathing labored. "I have to tell you something… before this goes any further, there's something you need to know."

"What?" You whisper, eyes wide with concern. "Do you have any diseases?"

He laughs loudly at this, shaking his head which tousles his hair this way and that before he leans down to kiss your forehead. You're confused now… And horny. Not a good mix.

"Taehyung, just tell me already." You punch him playfully, hoping to resume this make-out session you've been waiting for for way too long.

He still seems nervous about continuing, his eyes wavering away from your questioning gaze. Every second he takes for silence is adding more nerves onto your chest… was it that serious?

"When I first met you…" He starts, licking his lower lip (which you've noticed is one of his nerve habits) before he finally meets your eyes. He might be slow-moving and sensual on the outside, but his eyes hold a deep churning of fear that makes the already evident goosebumps on your arms a bit more painful. "When I met you that day at the cafe… That wasn't the first time I met--"

Before he can finish, your phone rings. Blaring loud. You're annoyed for a moment, wondering who the hell was trying to get in touch with you at this specific time, but as soon as you see the name on the phone screen, you nearly pass out.

Hyun Do-yun, Film Out Theatre

Holy shit.

The audition. The video audition you sent for the West End audition.

You gasp loudly, reaching desperately for your phone on the coffee table. Taehyung is still hovering over you with curious eyes-- you would give anything to hear what he was going to say… but this call was way too important.

"Can I… It's a theatre opportunity." You whisper, unable to hide your nerves. Your heart is beating full force, just like it was a second ago when Taehyungs lips were on yours.

He nods quickly, smiling at you while he plays with the ends of your hair, keeping himself busy when you finally pick up the call.

"Hello?" You speak softly.

"Hi! Is this Y/N Y/L/N?" A voice of a middle-aged man speaks back.

"Yes, this is." You nod, glancing at Taehyung. He's looking at you fondly, continuing to play with your hair. So patient. Your heart swells.

"Perfect! This is Hyun Do-yun from Film Out Theatre Company! I'm calling regarding your audition for 'The Eternal'? I just wanted to let you know that we've accepted you for the in-person auditions on December 16th! Are you still able to be in London by then?"

You freeze, eyes locking wide on Taehyungs, which he seems to catch your surprise and is looking at you with a questioning stare. There's no way this could be happening. There's no way you just made out with Kim Taehyung, and now you're getting this call. There's absolutely no way. Your heart feels like it's about to combust, and it takes a moment for you to gather your bearings before you respond.

"Wow.. That is-! Wow, thank you!" You sputter, shaking your head in disbelief. "I'm absolutely available; thank you so much."

"Perfect! I'll email you all of the information regarding callbacks, and we'll see you on December 16th!" He chuckles; a shuffling of papers is heard on the end of the line.

"Awesome. Thank you so much again!" You can't contain your smile, closing your eyes in glee before he finally says goodbye and hangs up the phone.

It takes you a moment to truly come back to your senses, the aura of warmth from Taehyungs body hovering above yours finally shaking you from your resolve. Still, he's looking at you with curious and elated eyes at the smile on your face… he must know it's good news!

"I got the callback, Tae." You choke out, excitement bubbling in your throat and causing your words to come out in nearly a squeak.

"What's the call back for?" Taehyung questions.

Oh right, you never even told him about this one— while you were too busy being an idiot and not making a move.

"It's a West End production called 'The Eternal'!! The lead role, Taehyung. The lead role!!"

His veiny hand that was previously playing with the ends of your hair hesitates for a split second, and a flash of something crosses his face. If he didn't immediately start smiling and shaking you with excitement, you might have asked him what that initial look was for-- but you're suddenly too overcome with excitement to care anymore.

"Y/n that is-- amazing." Taehyung beams, deeming it necessary to reward you with a quick peck on your lips. Every time he touches you, the previous thoughts of the audition-- what you were going to wear, your makeup, everything-- all of that seems to waver away in a fraction of a second. All you can think about is the fact that Kim Taehyung is on your couch, practically straddling you and kissing you as if you've always been his. As if this was something he was used to doing daily. If it weren't for your awareness of when you met him, you would probably think that he's known you for most of your life.

Despite the almost embarrassing fact that you're leaning in again to resume the kiss, he pulls away a bit with a smile.

"Woah, slow down. I want to know more about that audition." He's chuckling at your disappointed expression before you're flying through the details of the aforementioned audition. You tell him about the night that you got the email, how Kim Namjoon was the one who reached out to the director and gave you a good word. Taehyung sits quietly as you explain, his hand holding yours as he denies having anything to do with the fact that Kim Namjoon received a video of you singing. You don't believe him when he says that it wasn't him, but you continue anyway.

It may be in your imagination, but the more you speak of the audition, the more Taehyung seems to remove himself from your embrace. At the moment, you don't think anything of it. He's probably more intrigued that you, of all people, are receiving this kind of opportunity rather than the fact that the two of you were making out merely minutes ago.

"Wait..." You scoot up a bit, removing Taehyung completely from lying above you-- seating yourself across from him on the couch. "You we're going to say something to me before I got the call."

Taehyung freezes for a second, glancing at you before he quickly rushes out with a response. "Actually, it's not important."

You give him an "I don't buy it" look.

"Seriously, it was nothing." He insists with a laugh, rubbing the back of your hand with his thumb. He must know that touching you has a noticeable effect on your ability to function, especially since your eyes are falling to where the skin-on-skin contact occurred. Still, you press on.

"Taehyung, it was obviously not nothing..." You deadpan. "It took you a minute to even get the words out."

"Yeah! Because it was so stupid and didn't need to be said." He counters.

"You're a terrible liar." You respond.

Taehyung narrows his eyes towards you, pretending to be hurt by your comment.

"Come on, Tae, just tell-" But before you can fully get the words out, he leans over and lands a peck on your lips, nuzzling his nose against yours before he pulls away with a satisfied grin on his face.

You can feel your cheeks heating up, a small smile forcing its way onto your lips... This guy is dangerous. Despite this, you can't help but realize how wonderful it is to think about the fact that he could kiss you at any moment. That he wants to kiss you and hold you in the way that you've been hoping for for months. He has no idea how long you've waited for this.

He chuckles at your dazed expression, sighing quietly. "You should probably get some sleep... You have a shift tomorrow."

You stare. "How did you know that?"

Taehyung pauses. "You.. You always work on Fridays, right?"

You nod before throwing a grin his way, raising your hand to his wild hair that's grown wilder after your little rendezvous. "I guess I have a stalker now."

He looks at you incredulously, removing your hand from his head of hair with a quiet "am not." The two of you share a smile, enjoying the peacefulness that encompasses the room before he's finally raising himself from the couch. He's grabbing his things before you finally attempt to stand up with him-- and yet, he immediately stops you.

"Now, now. Your precious West End feet should never touch the floor again!" He says spiritedly, delicately placing you back onto the couch with a kiss. "I'll see myself out, okay? Get some rest."

You don't fight with him, enjoying his dramatics. He's making his way towards the door when he turns to offer you one last smile, blowing a kiss your way before he's disappearing out into the hallway.

For a second, you think that maybe this was just another dream. This whole night could not have happened... it was just way too unrealistic. Yet, here you were. After thousands of pinches later to make sure you were conscious, your eyes meet Taehyungs discarded beanie on your small dining table. He forgot it.

It's winter... he's going to freeze.

Without a second thought, you're leaping up towards the table, snatching his beanie while bounding towards the door to catch him.

Before you can fully leave your apartment entrance, you halt in your tracks, eyes widening slightly.

Taehyung had barely gone anywhere. He's standing in the hallway, his forehead resting against the hallway wall, with his arms placed above his head. Before you can call his name, he makes a quick movement as if he's going to punch it... your breath catches in your throat when he turns into view.

Is he crying?

Why is he crying?

His eyes are red as he grabs a fistful of his hair in both hands, pacing back and forth between the sides of the hallway. He looks completely shaken up. He seats himself on the ground, curling his legs up. You can hear quiet "shits" and "fucks" escaping his mouth as he hides his face in his hands, throwing you off slightly since you've never heard him outwardly cuss before. If it weren't for your fear of confrontation, you would probably be hugging him by now. You don't want to disturb him anyway... not when he probably thinks he's alone. Moments like this need privacy.

The last thing you see is Taehyung picking himself up, closing his eyes together as he attempts to control his breathing before he's shakily making his way towards the door.

If there was one thing Taehyung was bad at, it was hiding his emotions.

But he was, almost scarily, good at keeping secrets.

next chapter

tag list: @vantecaffe @moonchild1 @procrastination-queenie @hobipaint @jeonfiles @surilirani (unable to tag) @dopedreamfireparty @vantezza @audstylesgirl @getmemyfries (unable to tag) @unicornbabylover @deliciousdetectivestranger @luckyzipperscissorsbat

enjoying this story? please be sure to like and reblog!! it would really help me out, and i would love to hear your thoughts and feelings regarding this work!! thank you for taking the time to read :)

[skepticalarrie]

Hello Allie!

How are you? Sending you lots of love💙

Sadly I couldn't watch Hs first show bc. of an illness. I don't have much energy to stay updated with all what happend...

Just wanna ask you, if you can write a post, summarize the basic facts about H. show, what he did and how he was? And what you think about all of it?

I would really appreciate it💚

Hi love, of course. I'm really sorry to hear that you're unwell, I hope you can feel better soon. I'm sending loads of love ❤️❤️

----

Love on Tour Las Vegas 04/09

- Harry was wearing an amazing all pink Gucci outfit, no shirt. He looked incredible. Pink nails too. 💗 💖

- Harry has a lot of new members in his band, I really like the new people! Most songs also had a new twist to them, which made it sound fresh and exciting. I love that, it was great!

- The stage was pretty big and 360, Harry had mic stands all over it which made him run around the stage quite a lot! It looked good though, a very different setup. He felt the need to warn people that sometimes they would get his face and sometimes they would get his ass lol

- The setlist had 17 songs. No big surprises there, all songs from Fine Line except TBSL. Unfortunately, a lot of songs from the previous tour had to go because of the new ones and I think we all got a bit emotional because of that, but apparently, the setlist will be changing over the tour. So there’s always hope

- They made a mashup between Two Ghosts and Falling, amazing.

- Blue and green lights during Sunflower vol. 6

- Harry’s speech was very very emotional, he talked about the tour being his favourite part and how much he missed it and how we all went through some hard times for the past year and a half.

- He answered a fan sign "dogs or cats?" with "dogs" and we were all a little in shock.

- Harry sounded very excited to finally being back, it was pure joy watching him. He’s such an amazing performer! But you could also tell he wasn’t completely loosen up, I think he sounded a bit nervous in the beginning and missed a few lyrics. But I imagine it was a lot to take in at first, and the stage demands a lot of him physically. On the last tour he was also stiffer at the beginning of the tour and clearly more comfortable after a few weeks. He also just lost his grandfather very recently, so I’m sure that made him a little more emotionally unstable too. There wasn't much interaction with the crowd, no jokes, probably because he's going through a hard time and covid also make things extra hard. A lot of rumours going around that things don’t look good behind the scenes too.

- Pretty clear reference to Freddie Mercury before singing Watermelon Sugar.

- He slipped and fell, obviously.

- There weren’t many pride flags in the crowd, which was surprising and quite upsetting. Before the show, there were rumours going around that a larrie got punched by someone and apparently the atmosphere didn’t feel very safe there. But Harry managed to find a few and waved the flags during TPWK and WMYB (they gave us a really nice version of the last one!!). I hope the atmosphere is safer on the next one and that people can bring their flags. That is something clearly very important to Harry and it really upsets me how hostile his fanbase is towards that and struggles to understand who he is.

- Olivia was there, waving to people and surrounded by security. No one gave a shit.

- Rainbow rabbits.

- Lyric changes again in the middle of Golden, as expected, but it's hard to tell exactly what he said this time.

- In terms of covid, Harry and the band were using masks before going on stage and immediately after. However, Harry did the whale and also threw water he had just drank from into the crowd. I hope he can realize how unsafe that was.

[fellulahh]

Random relationship headcanons (all characters!) - F!MC

I’ve done HCs like these before but not for all of the characters - I thought I’d do an updated version with everybody☺️

Lucifer:

Lucifer effectively never refers to MC by her name ever again, he either calls her ‘my love’ or ‘my dear’

He sets Friday nights aside to take MC out for dinner no matter how much paperwork he has left at the end of the week

Lucifer always unconsciously makes MC a cup of coffee in the morning when he’s getting his

He’s not the sort to hold MC’s hand while at RAD, but when they walk together he does subtly place his hand on her lower back

Often their more intimate moments involve laying in front of the fireplace together, sipping glasses of wine as they discuss and joke over their day

Lucifer helps MC with her every goal and when she succeeds, he is always the first to congratulate her. After all, having MC as his partner is what he is most proud of

If he catches MC sassing one of the brothers, he’ll smirk and boast “That’s my girl.”

Sometimes if he’s feeling stressed, he’ll ask MC if she’ll keep him company by sitting in his lap while he works

Mammon:

He’s an absolute sucker for MC calling him ‘babe’ and tells her off if she refers to him as anything else

Mammon’s 100% the little spoon (but don’t you dare ever tell anybody else that)

Expect random booty slaps throughout the day whenever Mammon is near

He loves showing off MC - if they’re at RAD together, he’ll always have his arm around her; nonchalantly planting kisses on her head every now and again when they’re talking to someone

Mammon tells his brothers off if he thinks they’re spending too much time with his human

“What are you doin’ over there?! Come give me some sugar!” He pouts at least 20 times a day

Mammon never grows tired of seeing MC’s body. Every time she undresses for bed, he gawps at her - practically drooling - just like it’s the first time he’s ever seen her

He often randomly buys MC cards and will write little notes inside with his scrawny handwriting simply stating how much he loves and appreciates her (he’s very soft when it comes to MC)

Levi:

If MC is doing something that Levi deems as ‘adorable’, he will immediately pull out his D.D.D and photograph/film her so if he’s ever feeling down he can go through his album and just gaze at her in awe

When he’s talking to Henry 2.0, he refers to MC as the fish’s ‘mum’ and him as ‘dad’ (but don’t tell MC that he ever said that)

He loves to show off that MC is his girlfriend whenever he’s gaming. If he gets insulted over his headset, he’ll reply with ‘yeah? Well I have a girlfriend who’s super hot! Beat that!’

Movie marathons are a must

Levi loves taking MC to the beach and having her straddle him while he wades through the sea (a bit like Baloo and Mowgli)

When he’s gaming, Levi lets MC style his hair. Considering how long it is, the human is very intrigued by what it’d look like pushed back

He gets incredibly excited if MC gets dressed up for something and practically implodes: “that’s my girlfriend!!”

Satan:

Satan is 100% husband material. MC needs help studying? He’s there. MC needs help with cooking dinner? He’s there. MC is feeling stressed and wants a massage? He’s already offered before she can ask.

He’s quite a tease too and will wait until the worst time to show this side of him. MC and Satan could be at the palace having a really formal dinner when he will start whispering in MC’s ear, telling her all of things he’d love to do to her later that evening

MC’s name is now ‘darling’

Satan’s favourite part of the day is when he and MC are sat in bed each night, both reading a book

He loves to hold MC in his arms with her head on his chest whenever they fall asleep

He always makes the bed while MC’s in the bathroom so she doesn’t have to

When he’s on dinner duty, Satan purposefully cooks his and MC’s dinner first so that they can have it alone with a candle lit

Asmo:

Refers to MC as ‘sweetie’

He’s always surprising MC with little gifts - if he’s out shopping and sees something he thinks she’d like he immediately buys it

He helps relieve MC of any stress - if he senses she’s had a bad day he’ll pull out the nail varnish and give her a full on pamper while she moans about whatever is bothering her

His Devilgram is full of candid photos of MC

You can bet he’s super affectionate toward MC - there will never be a day that goes past where she doesnt wake up with a kiss from him

They’re the fiercest couple at RAD - they’re effectively the Devildom equivalent to Posh and Becks

They also go on really cute dates, whether it be little mini breaks, a simple coffee date at a nearby cafe, a day at the beach or beauty salon etc

Beel:

Movie nights with everybody always consist of MC falling asleep in Beel’s lap and then him carrying her up to bed

He’s always calling MC ‘cute’ no matter what she’s doing. She could be having a full on go at him for eating her dinner and he’d just smile at her while thinking ‘could she be anymore adorable?’

Lots and lots of piggy backs

Beel loves hugging MC, he always does that thing where he wraps his jacket around her so he trap the human with his love

Always invites MC to his sports game and whenever she goes, he manages to perform that little bit better to usual

He always offers MC his jacket if she ever gets cold

Everyone dubs them the ‘cutest couple at RAD’ because they’re always holding hands and have the biggest smiles on their faces whenever they’re together

Often they spend their evenings in the kitchen cooking/baking which results in a food fight and eventually sex on the kitchen counter

MC always wears Beel’s top to bed and it makes him so happy to see her in it

Belphie:

He gives MC all of the comfy pillows in their bed - after all he doesn’t need them anymore because his favourite thing to fall asleep on is his human

He’s always coming to MC’s defence. If a lesser demon ever does so much as scowl at her, he immediately puts himself between the two. Nobody is ever going to hurt his human

Belphie wants to learn everything about MC including the things she likes. And if that means he has to sit through hours and hours of a TV show to do that then he’ll commit to it!

He’s always genuinely interested in how MC’s day went and whenever they reunite at the house, he always asks how she is and will listen for however long to what she has to say

He hides food in the fridge for MC “I bought this cake earlier and have hidden it from Beel so that you could have the first slice”

Belphie always wants cuddles from MC - he has to have his head on her chest

He’s also not ashamed of how much he likes to snuggle his human, even if his brothers do tease him for it

Diavolo:

Diavolo is always going above and beyond for MC and acts like she’s already his Queen

He loves taking her on little walks around the castle grounds; telling her all about his ancestors

If Diavolo has to get up early for whatever reason and leave the palace, he’ll always leave a single rose on the bedside table next to MC so she doesn’t wake up feeling forgotten about

He puts MC before his duty - if any nobles ever dare speak ill of his relationship, he immediately dismisses them from their role

Always compliments MC, expressing how ‘positively radiant’ she looks with a huge grin on his face

He loves making MC wear his crown and sit on his throne, in fact he finds it quite the turn on seeing her in a position of power (that’s not the only position he likes seeing her in)

His favourite part of the day is when he gets to return home and see MC in her element doing whatever (studying, drawing etc) looking like the absolute beauty she is

Diavolo always accidentally lets it slip that he wants to have a future with MC - they’d just be talking about something random and then he’d come out with “well I like to think that when our children grow up...” before quickly blushing, realising what he’d said

Barbatos:

He invites MC to the castle a lot to keep him company when he’s serving Diavolo

He’s always surprising MC and leaving her feeling flustered - he could have a completely serious look on his face while he’s doing something for Diavolo but will then turn and whisper to MC “perhaps when I finish this paperwork, I can do you on this desk too” before walking away

Barbatos is always showing off to MC by taking her to different realms and dimensions. Having dinner at a fancy restaurant is too mainstream for him - you want to see France during the Renaissance? Sure, he’ll take you there!

He takes good care of MC and will often sense something is off with her before she even knows. This demon has a different tea for everything

Barbatos loves cooking all of these elaborate dishes only for MC to try and you can bet he’s already memorised all of her favourite meals from the human realm and has perfected them

In fact, some of the very rare moments where he grins is when he and MC are baking together

Even if he’s the one who’s had an incredibly long day, he’ll still run a relaxing bath for MC with candles and salts

Simeon:

Even if MC wakes up and looks like she’s been dragged through a bush backwards, Simeon never fails to compliment her surreal beauty

He calls MC ‘sweetheart’ all the time

Simeon always gets up early so that he can make MC breakfast in bed as it’s the most important meal of the day!

They always bath together

He and MC often go for walks in the park and will bring Luke along if he’s feeling lonely and wants to spend time with his parents

Simeon is incredibly intimate and passionate in their relationship. There’s no such thing as a ‘casual’ kiss with this angel - he never fails to caress MC’s cheek and gaze into her eyes before laying one on her

He always offers to carry MC’s bags while they’re walking through RAD and will effectively treat her like a goddess - opening every door for her, pulling out her chair etc

Simeon’s always gushing to Lucifer about his relationship with MC

Solomon:

MC and Solomon are such a chaotic couple

To show his love for her, he will quote vines (*insert ‘I love you bitch, I ain’t ever gonna stop loving you, bitch’ vine here*)

He is not afraid to show off his love for MC. She could be walking through the corridor at RAD and when he spots her, Solomon will shout ‘DAYUM MY GIRL IS FINE’

Solomon is always making MC laugh. He’s not one for being traditional when it comes to compliments - he’d definitely hit her up with “I would drag my balls through lava just to hear you fart down a walkie talkie”

He’s quite a show off too - the demons are all jealous that MC loves him and not them so he always gushes about his human

If he ever takes an unflattering photo of MC, he immediately turns her into a meme much to his amusement

Although he jokes a lot and isn’t always serious, when they’re alone together, Solomon is incredibly loving and would easily be happy to just sit there and stare at MC in silence for ten minutes so that he can take a moment to appreciate how lucky he is

[teiasviago]

Signs

Episode: “Je Souhaite” | Rated M | @today-in-fic | Warning: if any of the symptoms of pregnancy are squicky for you, it would be best to avoid this fic. Also, a reminder that we use Fahrenheit in the U.S., so don’t freak out at the wonky temperature stuff, my Celsius loaves.

Scully feels a little guilty for sending Mulder home last night after teasing him all day about what she was going to do to him in bed, but she blames her upset stomach on being “forced” to skip lunch that day. Scully had waved him off after three hours of on and off vomiting, feeling like she sent the entirety of her pizza and soda into the toilet.

She’d sent him back to his apartment so he’d stop hovering, his incessant chatter only magnifying the headache beginning to build at the base of her skull.

Mulder had called as soon as he got home, leaving a voicemail for her to please not come in tomorrow if she’s still sick. Well, Scully had fortunately felt right as rain when she woke up, aside from the minimal gnawing feeling in her stomach.

She regrets eating two bagels with lox and her real cream cheese now. This must be her punishment for breaking the rule of saving it for the fair amount of bad mornings she encounters. Her stomach’s mutinying again at the smell of Mulder’s black coffee and she can feel another toilet session coming on.

“Oh, God,” Scully whispers, all intent to apologize and press a soft kiss to his lips going out the proverbial door as she sprints out the real one and hauls ass to the bathroom.

She must have a stomach bug, Scully reasons, trying to even out her breathing as she folds some paper towels and wets them before pressing them against her face and neck. She’s suddenly feeling strangely hot, evidence of her sick flushed away.

Mulder knocks three times on the bathroom door. “Scully?”

“Yeah?” she sends back, splashing her face with water. She groans as she feels another gag coming on.

“I brought you some ginger ale and—and some Pepto Bismol. And Tums. I know you don’t like the Pepto but, you know, I figured this called for all the stops.”

She can imagine the look on his face as he hears her vomiting again. Scully checks her watch when it’s over. It’s still only 8:27 in the fucking morning!? How the hell is she supposed to make it through the rest of the workday like this?

The door hinges creak and she looks over at Mulder. “I told you not to come in if you’re still sick, Scully.”

“I wasn’t! I felt fine this morning, and then I walked in the office and smelled your coffee and...”

He leans against the counter and crosses his arms, puckering his lips as part of his exaggerated thinking face. Scully stands up straight and shoots him a look. Mulder shakes his head and puts his hands up. “Look, all I’m saying is that it looks like the same thing happened last night. As soon as we got out the ice cream, you bolted to the bathroom.”

She sighs and shakes her head. “What are you getting at, Mulder?”

“Just that you should go home and at least take a nap or something. If you stay off your feet for a few hours and relax, I’ll be happy. Nibble on some crackers, catch a soap opera...” Mulder shrugs. “You’re clearly sick, Scully. If not for yourself, do it on the chance that it’s contagious.”

Scully places the wet paper towel on the back of her neck, holding it there. “Fine. But only because it might be contagious.”

“I mean—that doesn’t make it better, but thank you nonetheless. Do you want me to drive you? What if there’s a random smell that sets you off on the ride there?”

She rolls her eyes but tells him, “Fine.”

—

Mulder’s assertion that certain smells have been setting off whatever’s going on with her stomach seem to be proven true when she comes back to the office after a few hours of rest and relaxation to the harsh sight of a man whose... whose mouth suddenly disappeared and had to be surgically recreated. Not a twinge from her stomach aside from shock butterflies.

Scully’s relieved that she’s been able to keep down her lunch. To be fair, it was crackers with a little cheese and a full two cups of water to make sure she was hydrated, but any food is good food. She proudly announces to Mulder during their ensuing flight the next day that it seems whatever illness hit is gone.

—

It’s not cold in Creve Coeur, Missouri—certainly not in Spring—but Scully’s feeling every degree of the breeze through the open windows like it’s in the thirties. She’s shivering the entire car ride to the Mark Twain Trailer Park, and noticeably enough for Mulder to glance at her with concern before putting up the windows and turning the heat up.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just a little cold.”

He frowns at that but lets it go until they hit a red light, when he leans over and presses his hand to her forehead.

Scully quirks her lips in a smile. “What are you doing?”

“Checking your temperature,” he replies. “You don’t seem to have a fever...”

“I’m fine, Mulder,” she insists, leaning into his hand for the few seconds she gets the light turns green.

“Alright, but if you’re still sick, Scully, then you have to promise me that you’ll go back to the motel, okay? I brought the meds just in case, if you need them.”

She smiles softly and places her hand on his arm. “Thank you.”

“It’s what a good boyfriend does.”

—

Her stomach bug really does seem to be gone, which is a relief. However, she’s now insatiably hungry for two things: Mulder, and the bagels from the bagel place two streets over from her apartment. Well, she consoles, one is attainable, at least. And, boy, does she attain it. They’re both breathing heavily by the time Scully’s through with him, and even though they’re sticky with sweat, she curls her body around Mulder’s anyway.

Her breasts are tingly, which has never happened after sex before, but she chalks it up to Mulder’s harsh treatment of her only a minute ago as she nuzzles his chest. She inhales and sighs happily. “I love the way you smell,” she murmurs.

He laughs and she feels it against her cheek. “Coming from the woman who made me start using a different deodorant,” he jokes, squeezing his arm around her shoulders. “Your nipples are darker.”

“What?” Scully props herself up with her forearm to make proper eye contact as her brows furrow.

“Yeah. I don’t know. They’re darker. Feel a little heavier, too. You didn’t notice?”

She shakes her head and laughs. “Unlike you, Mulder, I don’t spend hours studying my boobs.”

He shrugs and rolls them over so he’s hovering over her on his forearms. “Your loss.”

—

“Fuck,” she swears, digging around in her suitcase, fresh from her shower. She’s only got one hand because the other’s holding her towel wrap together.

“What?” Mulder asks around his toothbrush, exiting the bathroom. His tie is slung behind his neck and his suit jacket is waiting for him on the bed.

“I don’t have any panty liners.”

“Do you want me to go out and get some?” he asks, heading back to the bathroom to spit.

“Yeah, that would be great.” Scully walks past him into the still-warm bathroom and lets the towel drop as she uses the one wrapped around her hair to dry the wet strands.

“Alright. I’ll be back in a jiffy.” She drops the hair towel when he takes the singular step needed in the tiny motel bathroom to invade her space in favor of pulling him down for a kiss by the ends of his tie. “Mmm, settle down or the plan’ll be botched.”

“I was just thanking you,” Scully says, affecting innocence as she does his tie for him.

“For buying you panty liners? What would happen if I surprised you with some ice cream?”

“I would eat the ice cream.”

“Damn.” Mulder presses a kiss to the top of her head before heading out to put on his suit jacket. “Do you mind me asking why you need panty liners? Also! What brand?”

“Any with wings. And I need them because there’s been an unusual amount of vaginal discharge in my underwear and I don’t want to ruin any more of them.”

“Right.” He steps back in view of the bathroom and takes in her naked body.

Scully raises an eyebrow at him. “What?”

(Their books on pregnancy are buried inside their storage closets from a time best forgotten.)

“Nothing. I just like looking at you.”

She smiles at him, drying her hair again. “Get going, hotshot.”

—

Halfway through the flight home, Scully discovers something that makes her a bit worried. She’s not supposed to get her period until next week, so the blood on the liner she quickly tosses away with shaky hands can’t be because of that. She tries to forget about it as she walks back to her seat next to Mulder, but he must see something on her face that prompts him to ask if she’s okay.

“I’m fine,” she lies, managing to give him a smile. “Just tired.”

He seems to accept that and leaves her be. It’s not even a lie; she feels exhausted after everything that happened over the past few days. Scully makes a mental note to book an emergency appointment with her Ob-Gyn when they land, and closes her eyes.

—

“Dana,” Dr. Namin starts, disrupting her patient’s thumb twiddling.

Scully abruptly stands up as her doctor moves to stand in front of the exam table, computer and several documents in hand. “You don’t look concerned,” she says, following Namin to the exam table.

“Because there’s nothing to be concerned about at this stage except plenty of rest, hydration, and eating at least three good meals a day,” Scully’s doctor replies, opening up her computer and spreading out the documents. “We’ve done all the tests you asked for, but nothing came up. However, based on the symptoms you listed, I performed one more, and that’s where we found the culprit.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re pregnant, Dana. Plain and simple. Congratulations.” Dr. Namin slides one of the documents towards Scully, who takes it. “You’re about three and a half weeks along. You can take all the papers. There’s suggestions for all the prenatal vitamins you’ll need to take and how much water to drink in a day. Resources for managing symptoms, too.”

Scully nods dumbly, tears gathering in her eyes as she stares at the diagnosis. “Um, when should I come back?”

“Don’t worry about that right now, I’ll have someone give you a call with that information. Just relax and enjoy the news. I remember how much you wanted this, Dana. I...I don’t know how this happened, but the baby’s doing well. Minor bleeding is completely normal and you don’t need to worry. If it gets worse or doesn’t stop soon, then come back.”

“Okay,” Scully chokes out, smiling widely as she wipes away her tears and collects the documents on the exam table.

—

She spends a few hours at her apartment trying to figure out how to tell Mulder the good news but gets nowhere. In the middle of pacing around her couch, one arm unconsciously wrapped around her abdomen, her phone starts ringing.

“Scully speaking.”

“Agent Scully,” Skinner starts, and she immediately knows that Mulder’s done something stupid again, “could you check on Agent Mulder? He snuck into my meeting and was yelling at my chair.”

“Yes, of course, sir.”

“Thank you.”

Scully hangs up the phone and sighs heavily. Looks like God’s giving her a sign to just get it over with. When she enters the office, however, the woman Mulder keeps insisting is a genie is there, too. She licks her lips nervously and tries to ignore her.

“Skinner called me, Mulder. Is everything alright?”

Sitting at the desk, computer on, she has to wonder what he’s doing. “You don’t remember disappearing off the face of the Earth for an hour this morning?”

She gives her head a small shake as she tells him, “No,” truly starting to get concerned.

Mulder just shrugs with a little smile and gets back to typing with a nonchalant, “Well, I guess everything’s okay.”

Get it out, just say it, she thinks, trying to psych herself up. She sighs. “Mul—” But the woman’s still there in the office. “Could you give us a minute, please?”

“Sure,” the woman—Jenn, Mulder told her on the plane—says with a nod.

Scully steps closer to the desk, butterflies in her stomach. Jenn isn’t moving, and it’s making her annoyed, quite frankly. “Like, today?” she says, turning around, but the black-haired woman is nowhere to be found, not even in the annex. Scully turns back to her partner, extremely confused. “Where the hell’d she go?”

Mulder childishly imitates a genie disappearing and she feels the sudden urge to laugh at the thought that this man is the father of her child. “No...” she says, softening the guffaw trying to escape to a scoff-laugh. “It’s gotta—” She scoffs for real this time. “It’s gotta be hypnotism, or—or mesmerism, or something.”

And thus begins the verbal sparring. As he lists all the things he wants for the world, Scully thinks, again, of how this is the father of her child. Something suspiciously soft is trying to emerge from her heart as she responds, and she’s a coward to boot, so she leaves without telling him. Driving back to her apartment, Scully feels guilty at how little effort she put into trying to break the news to Mulder. She just—she doesn’t know what to make of the news herself, let alone how to explain it to him.

An hour into The Exorcist, hugging a pillow as she wishes Mulder was watching it with her, the phone rings. “Scully, do you wanna come over and watch a movie? I’ve got your favorite popcorn...”

She grins. “Of course. I’ll bring the drinks.”

—

They’ve both changed their clothes for the movie night, and when Mulder opens the door, they’re sporting matching grins. “Oh, zero alcohol content?” he faux complains, taking the case of six drinks into the kitchen. “Is this your punishment for me, Scully?”

She elects not to respond as she follows him and takes out the package of popcorn and a pot. “Can you grab the olive oil, Mulder?”

“Yeah, of course.” He puts four of the drinks in the fridge before reaching into one of the cabinets to grab the oil and put it on the counter next to the stove, which Scully’s turning it on.

“I’ll never understand why you won’t just microwave them. It’s faster.”

“Yeah, but if you do it in the pot, it tastes better,” she shoots back, opening the package and pouring the kernels into the pot.

“That’s just because of the oil.”

“Well, you can continue to eat shitty popcorn for the rest of your life if you want, but I’m going to eat my good popcorn.”

They turn to face each other as the kernels pop and hit the lid, a staring contest beginning. Scully wins when she licks her lips and distracts Mulder enough to get him to blink.

“Ha! I got you! I win!”

“That’s cheating!”

“I won!” she says in a sing-song voice, emptying the finished popcorn into the bowl.

Mulder shakes his head with a smile. “Why don’t you take the drinks and get comfortable. I’ll finish the popcorn.”

Scully nods and does as he suggests, but as she’s crossing into the living room, she pauses and turns around. “No butter, please,” she says, and he turns around with a scoop of butter in a bowl in his right hand, the handle of the microwave in the other.

“No... butter...?” She nods. “We always put butter on the popcorn, Scully.”

“Well, I don’t want butter this time,” she says, and makes her way to the couch, sitting down and placing the drinks on the coffee table. She hears Mulder sigh heavily and put the bowl of butter in the fridge before making his way to the living room, bowl of popcorn in hand.

He shakes his head as he grabs the movie case from the table and inserts it into the player. “Can’t believe you don’t want butter on your popcorn. Eugh. It’s un-American.” He steps around the table and sits down next to Scully.

She takes the case from where he left it and makes a face. “Caddyshack, Mulder?” she questions.

“It’s a classic American movie,” he insists, grabbing his drink and propping his feet up.

“That’s what every guy says.” Scully grabs her own and untwists the cap, tossing it onto the table. Mulder does the same, but his bounces off onto the floor, and she laughs into the bottle. “So, uh... What’s the occasion?” she asks, as if they still take the justifying movie nights thing seriously.

Last week’s was I thought you might need some help feeding your fish.

“I don’t know. Just felt like the thing to do. Cheers.”

Maybe it is time to turn over a new leaf, especially considering the baby growing inside her, cell by cell. They clink their bottles—“Cheers,” she says—and drink. Tell him, tell him, tell hi—

“I don’t know if you noticed, but I, um, never made the world a happier place.”

They nod together and Scully knows that this is the moment to tell him. She takes a deep breath. “Well, I’m fairly happy. That’s something.” A smile slides onto her face and she looks at him, a lot more than fairly happy now. “Actually, I’m ecstatic.” She gives a little laugh and reaches into her pocket for the piece of paper she’d stared at for hours earlier.

“Really? Is there a specific reason, or...?”

Scully pulls the paper out and looks at the blue highlighted text on the portion of the paper that’s not folded back for a moment before handing it to Mulder. “That’s why,” she says, voice trembling a little out of happiness.

She watches his face as the words sink in. He reads it again, murmuring, “Diagnosis: pregnancy (3.5 weeks),” as he does so, a grin spreading across his lips. “Scully...”

“I know,” she says, setting her bottle on the table, and before Mulder can say anything else, she cups his cheeks and kisses him, unwilling to fight the urge.

“Scully, this is wonderful!” He laughs joyously and kisses her again, setting the paper and his drink on the table. “I’m so happy.” He brings her into his embrace and buries his face in her shoulder for a long moment, both of them starting to cry. He suddenly pulls away and puts his hand on her abdomen under her shirt, his other arm still wrapped around Scully.

“I love you,” she tells him.

“I love you, too,” he replies.

[angelicamerlinbarnes]

Severus Snape being an awesome teacher and human being

Au Volant - Elsa & Emilie

He makes sure to let students work on their own when they brew Amortentia. They only have to pass in a list of things they smell and he draws little smiley faces on them because he knows a lot of kids are very insecure about their feelings. (Once a kid passed in a list that just said, I’m sorry Professor but it doesn’t smell like anything, and on their paper Severus drew an ace and aro flag and a time for the student to be at Mcgonogall’s office that weekend for tea, along with a smiley face and an O grade.) (The student was Newt.) (Hailee’s just read, People are gross and if I fall in love with one I want you to kill me, to which Severus responded, Valid, and drew her a picture of a turtle.)

He makes fake batches of Felix Felicis and gives one to every student secretly before their O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s so they feel extra confident going into the test but aren’t actually cheating.

He knows his area is Potions, but he teaches defense spells to students who come after class or report bullying anonymously. Severus Snape does not fucking stand for bullying in his classroom or outside of it. If you dare to pick on one of his students, he will burn you so hard with his mere words that you will wish you were dead. Do not fuck with Severus Snape’s kids.

On parent-teacher day, he drinks different batches of Polyjuice Potion to imitate certain students, all of whom hide away in their dorms after drinking a fine batch of invisibility potion. He then follows these select parents around and endures their horrifying, demeaning remarks about their “failure of a child” so his students don’t have to. He makes sure to give these students glowing praises to their parents when it’s his turn to offer feedback (after making up an excuse to go to the bathroom as the student), and takes mental notes of the parents’ most prominent criticisms so he can be sure to compliment those parts of his students during their next assignments (and also just because).

He brews sleeping potions for students he knows stay up all night studying and sometimes slips it into their drinks if they refuse to take it willingly. He then gives them back their (usually almost flawless) tests with the note that if they want a full O they need to sleep more.

He invites kids he knows don’t have many friends to have dinner and lunch and breakfast in his classroom whenever they’d like. He tries to make friends with some of them too, hoping to make their lives a little less lonely than his was.

He keeps an eye out for abusive home situations. He does his best to come up with excuses for those unfortunate students to stay at Hogwarts over breaks or to visit often over the summer. He tries to find them friends that will help them the way James helped Sirius and Regulus, and speaks to Mcgonogall about opening a home for these kids on campus. He does his best to be the parent he knows these kids don’t have, and is open about his own horrid past in hopes of getting some of them to fess up so he can help them better than he can without hearing it explicitly from their mouths.

He uses his Pensieve to collect happy memories of and for his students to reflect on when they need to and they sit in the corner of his classroom. (Among them are his wedding day to James and Lily, the day Harry was born, a couple playdates with the other Marauder children, Sirius and Remus’ wedding day, studying with Remus, pranking James with Sirius, Sirius and James asleep cuddled together with Remus on the couch in ugly Christmas sweaters, his son and many nieces and nephews playing dress-up, reading with Hermione and exploring with Luna and Newt, dancing with Draco (he likes to dance but was always ashamed to do it at the Malfoys), going on long drives with Regulus, the Blacks’ funeral (Regulus and Sirius performed a very gay stripper dance on top of their graves, it was beautiful), and many, many more.) Sometimes he can see his saddest students watching them and smiling, and their sad eyes twinkling make him smile.

He brings in a box of small kittens, puppies, and bunnies one day and lets them wander around the classroom. Some kids start crying because they haven’t felt this loved in years. After an incident with a bad potion and a rainbow puppy, he stops bringing them all out during class, but they’re there on the weekends and whenever a student needs to hug one (or borrow one, much to Mcgonogall’s chagrin).

He works to break down House biases and help students develop inter-House relationships and friendships. He wants every student to be proud of their House and not to treat anyone differently because of theirs. He creates (with Dumbledore, Sirius, and Regulus’ help) an annual House Pride, in which every student dresses up in their House colors and has their nails and skin painted and everyone is smiling and laughing and waving flags with their House emblems in the air. Even the teachers get in on it.

He stresses the importance of friendships, communication, and choices. He urges students not to make his mistakes by treating their friends well, talking about their feelings even if they’re ugly, and making the right choices in life for you and your loved ones, even if those choices are hard. He invites Lily in to talk about this too sometimes.

He sends out his Patronus every night to wander around the school. Often it comes back to him with nothing, but sometimes he can hear a student crying through it. He’ll instruct his doe to sit with the student until he gets there, and then he’ll walk around the castle, pretending to “accidentally” happen upon the crying student. He’ll sit with them until they’ve calmed down and listen if they want to talk and then take them to their dorm, bidding them goodnight and get well soon.

He gives students hugs when they want them. He didn’t want to originally, but Harry would greet him every class with a hug, and then one day Draco came in crying and attached himself to Severus like a sloth, so he patted him on the back and continued to hug him. Not long after, Hermione couldn’t figure out a potion and burst into tears out of frustration, turning and burying herself in his chest. After Luna wrapped her stick arms around his neck for no reason, Severus just accepted his fate and let his students hug him.

A lot of first years get scared in the hallways, since the staircases move and everywhere is incredibly crowded and they are oh so very small. Severus will often hold the hand of the most anxious ones for the first few weeks and walk them to class. Eventually they become more confident with the castle and themselves and stop needing it, but the occasional sixth year will slip their hand into his just because sometimes.

He walks around campus with students sometimes. He can tell when they’re nervous or sad or angry and he takes them on walks around the outskirts of campus and lets them vent. He also teaches them how to throw curses at the Whomping Willow just because (it’s for Remus but nobody’s gonna say it out loud).

He teaches students how to walk dramatically (as he should). He puts on student drag shows in the Great Hall with James’ help (who always kisses him way too enthusiastically because of it) and Dumbledore’s permission (so long as he gets to be the finale). The students work with Sirius on their drag looks and Sirius and Remus both join in the drag show for the opening act. Sirius’ job is to design and create the students’ looks while Remus tells them they look pretty and tames their stage fright. Severus just sits in the audience smirking while Lily screams in delight. (Regulus also shrieks with excitement eventually, though he does usually spend the first half trying to look disinterested.) (Peter’s job is to get the cookies and sweets (and underage alcohol).)

He turns into his snake Animagus form sometimes without warning when his students aren’t looking and just slithers around the classroom scaring the crap out of people. His favorite students are the ones brave enough to pet him. Harry and Newt are the only ones brave enough (and allowed) to wind him around their shoulders. Severus and Harry sometimes have conversations in Parseltongue.

He invents spells to help with dyslexia and other learning disabilities in his spare time. When he’s done with that he plans to try looking into some cures to mental illness. He’s thinking possibly a potion that treats PTSD by replacing traumatic memories with pictures of puppies, unicorns, bunnies, cats, and parrots. What do you think?

He tries hard to come up with solutions and modifications to his lessons for students with ADHD. He often talks to James about what the best steps to take are because James has ADHD. (So does Sirius, but his insecurities are bad enough that he won’t talk about it with anyone but Remus and James.)

He plays the violin sometimes during tests and uses Sonorus to make it echo throughout the classroom. Occasionally he cancels class and just plays until most of his students fall asleep. Those who want to work on extra work can, but he tries to keep their stress and general teenage angst to a minimum. (Though he encourages the emo phase.)

One of the first things he does after the Prank is get to work on a lycanthropy solution for Remus. After a couple years he invents the wolfsbane potion, but it doesn’t quite do the trick. Eventually he manages to figure out the cure, and when Remus finds out he cries so hard he can’t breathe right for days. (Sirius also cries. So does James. And Peter. And Lily and Regulus and Mcgonogall. Seriously, everyone cried and everyone hugged him and Severus tried to get away by transforming into his snake form but toddler Harry just grabbed him and refused to let go, so that didn’t work.) (He also helps Remus become a wolf Animagus when he asks almost a year later.)

He teaches certain kids Occlumency and Legilimency after school. It’s strictly for kids he knows come from abusive homes, whether they’re open about it or not, so they can tell when it’s going to be a bad night and get away or protect themselves. He teaches Occlumency for those who need to hide things from their parents (like Sirius and Regulus used to) and Legilimency to all, just in case. He focuses on stealth and untraceable versions of the craft to earn the kids as much time and protection as he can.

He figures out how to remove the Dark Mark from his own arm after the war. The next person he calls is Regulus, whose he also removes. He writes down the entire process and when the war starts up again, he keeps an eye out for students suddenly wearing long sleeves. He speaks with those he does find and helps them to make the right choice and join the right side of the war, starting with removing that horrid tattoo. (Draco bawls uncontrollably when Severus removes his.)

When they do the lesson on Veritaserum, he’s extra careful to make sure students don’t test it, especially on themselves or their friends. It, along with Amortentia, is the most guarded potion in his stash. The only times he uses it is when a student from an abusive home is too scared to tell him what’s going on, in which case he finds them somewhere private, asks them if they’d be okay with it and if so which teacher they want to be there to ask the questions (usually Remus, Sirius, or himself), and then administers the potion and leaves or begins to ask yes or no questions. It’s helped a lot of kids escape their families.

He tries to ease trepidations about himself early in the school year, since he’s aware he can be intimidating and the rampant stories regarding his time under Voldemort (though entirely as a spy) do not help. His friendships with Remus and Sirius often serve to alleviate students’ fears though, as they tend to tell embarrassing stories about him from their own Hogwarts days that make him seem more human (and make him want to strangle them, but that’s neither here nor there).

Every year, he works with Remus and Lily to arrange Muggleborn Pride. It’s an incredibly popular event with tons of Muggle inventions and artifacts floating through the air over students’ heads. At any time they can reach up and pull one down to study it. Many students dress as their favorite Muggle icons and characters. Because of this, Muggleborn students are more comfortable being who they are than ever before. (Some have even reclaimed the word Mudblood by setting up mud pits during their Pride.) (They also have more Slytherin Muggleborns now than any other time in recorded history.)

He tells Regulus’ story to every class of students, to teach them what true bravery is and how love and family, even if not blood, can change the course of history. Regulus survived his encounter with the Horcruxes and worked to destroy them and eventually Voldemort, but now lives away from the public eye in a secluded part of Muggle London. He and Severus are friends and visit often, and Regulus will occasionally come back to Hogwarts to say hello to his brother and mum (Remus), but for the most part he keeps his life intensely private. He allows his family to tell his story because he wants other kids to know they are not alone and that there is a way out, and that you are not a bad person for things you did in your childhood. Severus does his best to do it justice.

He has incredibly loud arguments with Dumbledore until he finally agrees to implement sex ed as a mandatory class at Hogwarts. Severus works with the other Marauders on the curriculum and they try to include multiple angles and identities in their lesson plan. At first they try to trust Remus with it, but Remus doesn’t go anywhere without Sirius who is less than tactful and Remus himself has some deadpan sarcasm and a lack of shame to rival James Potter’s, so. They try Lily. She can’t stop giggling. Finally they beg Regulus to come back and teach it. He’s surprisingly… perfect for the job. (He steals parenting books from Amir, that’s his secret.)

When James visits, everything becomes chaos for a bit. While he mostly hangs out with Sirius and Remus and causes trouble with them, he certainly seems to enjoy sitting in the back of Severus’ classroom and bothering him during lessons. The only way to get him to leave is to turn into a snake and wind himself around his shoulders, which makes James shriek and sputter and run away (James has always had an irrational fear of snakes; odd that he married one then, innit?). But when James isn’t causing chaos, he’s following Severus around adoringly and grabbing at his hand, whispering jokes in his ear and kissing his cheek. Despite all of the times he’s a pain in the ass, there are always these little moments that remind Severus why he fell in love with him in the first place (entirely unwillingly and with much stubborn pride on both ends, but, well. It is what it is and they got here eventually, so that’s all that matters).

When Lily visits, everything is calm. She reigns all of the Marauders in and forces them to have picnics under the tree where they all used to do homework. She often holds Severus’ hand and dances with him there, turning his insides to useless goo. She’s always full of laughter and fairy bells, and though she makes every student question their priorities and life decisions, she’s a favorite of them all. Not a day goes by that someone doesn’t pull him aside and say, “You’re a lucky, lucky man.” (Or, in James’ case: “Fuck, love, how’d we bloody manage that?” (Severus just shrugs. It’s not like he knows.))

He helps kids with autism feel more like they belong. He also works to educate non-autistic students how to better socialize and respect those who are, and takes extra care to dispel myths about autism and its causes, effects, and characteristics. Lily helps when she can.

Above all, Severus tries to give his students the education he never had. Anything he can provide for them he will. He’s been given a second chance and by Merlin is he going to bloody use it.

[writernada]

10 Times Yuzuru Hanyu Was Inspiring

Yuzuru Hanyu (26 years old) is a Japanese figure skater. He is a two-time Olympic champion, two- time World champion, Four Continent champion, four times Grand Prix Final champion and five times national champion. He is the only male skater that has achieved a grand slam (won all major competitions in both junior and senior circus). In 2018, he won the People's Honor Award given by the Japanese Prime Minister and became the youngest recipient of this award. He also won the award of the most valuable skater at the International Skating Union Awards for the season 2019-2020. Since his debut in the senior circus in 2011-2012 and until now, Yuzuru's performances have always made a great impact on the audience; allowing him to have the biggest fan base ever in the history of figure skating. His fans are not only from Japan but from all around the world; including other skaters and coaches. The reason behind all of this love is that Yuzuru touches the hearts by performing like an artist, hitting every note, being super passionate about what he does and combining a competitive spirit with a sport soul. On top of all of that, he has an ability to inspire people. His road has never been easy. It is full of injuries, surgeries, illnesses, strong competitors, mistakes and losses. However, he always perserves, pushes through his limits, overcomes adversity and rises in an inspiring way.

Here are the ten times Yuzuru Hanyu was an icon of inspiration:

1- Winning his first medal in the World Championship in 2012 despite having an injury and low stamina.

In his debut in the World championship (senior circus) in 2012, Yuzuru (17) sprained his right ankle during the official practice the day before the short program. His foot swelled up but he decided not to withdraw, taking into account all the effort he has made for this competition and all the people who came here for him (coach, mom and officials). He went ahead and competed. He was ranked seventh in the short program, third in the free program and third overall, winning the bronze medal.

Yuzuru commented on that competition in his autobiography book "Aoi Hono ll":

"Because I was injured the day before the short, I felt that even in that kind of situation 'I landed my quad, I did well’. I felt that I had worked really hard by myself. However, my mother told me, "That is wrong.” Getting injured was my own fault, but there were many people who helped and supported me. That is the reason why I could come to this point. Until about 9 o'clock that night, we were talking about this while having dinner, and in the end, I realized that my thinking was wrong."

Yuzuru was about to get full of himself and let arrogance take over him. However, his mother helped him stay grounded. Thus, he was able to face the free program with a humble attitude. He put out a passionate performance that many people still remember until this day and consider as one of their favorites. During that performance, he tried not to put a lot of pressure on the injured foot so he shifted all the pressure on the other one until it got exhausted and gave up on him. As a result, he fell all of a sudden in the middle of the performance, but he managed to get up right away and perform a great jump right after.

In his autobiography book that was mentioned earlier, Yuzuru talked about this fall and said: "Later, when I watched the videos, I saw that the fall did not take up much time. I was standing up again quickly. But to me, it felt like a long time. When I fell, the feeling was like flying mid-air. Like this (he re-enacts the fall in slow motion), 'ahh, I am stumbling~~’ (laughs). After the fall, I was thinking 'what should I do from here’, many thoughts circled around. Thinking that I won’t make it in time for the next axel jump, I shortened the path by going straight instead of curved. I can jump even a 3A+3A (in practice), so I thought I will be alright. (laughs)”.

One of the most exciting moments during the performance is when Yuzuru shouted out aloud before the choreographic sequence. The shout seemed like a great expression of the emotions of his character (Romeo). It made him look like he was totally into character. However, he clarified that it was unintentional. He said: "I felt like I couldn’t breathe, so I thought, for now just let the breath out. (laughs)"

Yuzuru is known to be suffering from asthma and because of it he had a low stamina at the time. However, even after finding out that the shout wasn't done to express the character's emotions, viewers still find it impactful because it is a genuine expression of Yuzuru's fight against his limits.

That night, Yuzuru made a name for himself internationally. He shed tears of happiness after getting his scores and so did his coach. He also got praised by the winner that night who said: "the one shining the most is Yuzuru".

2-  Breaking a World Record and winning gold in his first participation in the winter Olympic Games.

At the age of 19, Yuzuru participated for the first time in the Olympic Games. Young male skaters like him who participate for the first time usually don't dare to dream about winning. The big scale of the competition gets athletes nervous and shaken, even the great and experienced ones of them. Therefore, the young newcomers usually consider their first participation as an experience to have under their belt while preparing for the next Olympic. However, Yuzuru was determind to win. His choreographer at the time, David Wilson, talked about his intense determination in an interview: "he wrote me an email letter that was so touching. He was like please help me do this because I'm ready. I'll do anything. I will die. I'll do anything to be the Olympic Champion. I don't want to wait until 2018. I want it now and I'll do anything. I'm willing to die for it. Anything you tell me, I'll do it but help me."

David Wilson talking about Yuzuru's determination to win the 2014 Olympics

Yuzuru performed a marvelous short program and came out of the rink saying: "I did it!" to which his coach replied: "you certainly did". He broke the world record in his first participation at the Olympics despite his young age. He did get nervous and made mistakes at the free program. However, what he did in the short program was enough to bring him the gold medal and make him achieve his childhood dream.

Yuzuru (11) saying that his dream is to win the Olympics

Yuzuru performing his short program at the 2014 Olympics:

Other Skaters reacting to Yuzuru's World Record at the Olympics:

The moment when Yuzuru finds out he won the  2014 Olympics:

3- Continuing to compete after a pretty bad collusion with another skater during Cup of China 2014:

In 2014, Yuzuru took part in Cup of China, which is one of the events of the Grand Prix Series. Yuzuru was in second place after the short program and during the 6 minuets warm up before the long program he had an accident. He collided with the Chinese skater Han Yan. They were looking at opposite sides and couldn't see each other until it was too late.

Yuzuru talked about the incident in his autobiography book and said: "My stomach hit the ice (when I fell) and so it felt like I received a body blow. My stomach was hurting so much; I could not breathe nor get up. Then, when I tried standing up, my chin was hurting and bleeding. My head was panicking and I didn’t know exactly where all the pain was coming from."

After a few minutes, Yuzuru stood up on his own despite the arrival of medical helpers. He preferred to exit the rink on his own instead of being carried. Backstage, he was examined and given first aid by American doctors.

The Collusion incident at CoC 2014:

In his biography book, Yuzuru gave some details about what happened backstage after the incident:

"I really gave a lot of trouble to the people around me. They told me ‘Don’t compete’. The doctors also said, 'It is not a concussion, so it is possible to skate but we do not recommend it.’Coach Orser also said, 'Now you don’t need to be a hero. You still have more after this, you still can do a lot as a skater.’But 'it has nothing to do with that. I will skate because I want to go to GP Final.’ I think I might have said that to him in Japanese. I wanted to go to the Final somehow. Here, 5th or 4th place is good enough, I can get 1st place in the next competition, so for now I just want to remain connected. If I compete at GPF, I definitely want to have a second consecutive victory. I also want to win the triple crown again (Worlds, GPF, Nationals). I had those kind of thoughts. Now when I look back I think, 'ah I skated well’."

Yuzuru decided to skate his free program and the people around him respected his decision and allowed him to go. He made sure to meet Han Yan before competing again and they exchanged apologies. After that, Yuzuru showed up in the rink with a bandage on his head and a small band on his chin. He skated his free program bravely after making some changes on the layout to adjust to his condition. He fell on five jumps but did full rotations and got grades for that. He also was able to land some jumps in the latter half of the program, which got him extra points. After the performance, his coach Orser was worried about his feelings if he gets a bad score for falling five times so he was preparing him mentally by saying stuff like: "scores don't matter. What matter is what you did out there" but it turned out Orser had nothing to worry about as Yuzuru received a high score. Yuzuru was so surprised and relieved when he saw his score and he burst into tears after holding on for a long time. He won the silver medal in that event.

Yuzuru performing his free program and receiving his score at CoC 2014:

After the competition, American doctors prepared the massage room to do stitches for Yuzuru. He received 7 stitches on his chin with anesthetics and 3 staples on his head without any anesthetics, which was really painful to him! The next day, he traveled to Japan for a medical examination in a trip that he described as hell. The result of the examination was "head contusion (or bruise), chin contusion, abdominal contusion, left thigh contusion and right ankle sprain’.

For ten days, Yuzuru was unable to walk and the recovery took more time than expected. Every time he finds himself able to walk, he would go to the rink, but once he steps his foot into the rink the pain comes back. He thought that he would never be able to skate again, felt so depressed and wanted to quit skating all together. However, his mother told him "how about just giving it a try anyway? If you skate just a little on the ice every day with the intention of rehabilitation, the situation may change for the better" her response surprised him because she never tried to stop him from quitting in the past whenever he said he wanted to quit. With that new attitude of his mother, Yuzuru became optimistic about being able to skate again, and found the willpower to try and even aim to win at the next competition of the Grand Prix Series, which was NHK.

At NHK, Unfortunately, Yuzuru wasn't able to present great performances and once he finished his free program he thought to himself: "ah, the final is gone!" he thought that all his efforts in Cup of China were for nothing, but luckily, the total of his points combined from the two competitions made him the last qualified skater for the final. Thus, he was able to take part in the final, presented great performnces and won the gold medal after all the struggles he went through.

4- Winning at Nationals 2014 despite bleeding and needing a surgery:

After the short program at the Grand Prix Final, Yuzuru felt some kind of pain in his stomach whenever he stretched or pressed on it. He thought that it must be a damage in the muscle tissue but after the free program, he found something that looks like a Ping Pong ball sticking out beneath his navel. It was so painful to the extent that he couldn't sleep on his flight back to Japan. When he landed, he went to the hospital right away and was told that he might have Urachal Remnant Disorder. He was given some antibiotic and sent home because his condition wasn't bad. However, once he returned home, and got into the shower, his navel burst and started bleeding. He went back to the hospital and it was confirmed that he has Urachal Remnant. He needed to undergo a surgery but he couldn't afford to have it any time soon because the Japanese national competition (All Japan) was a few weeks away. He was determined to attend it so he decided to bear with the pain and delay the surgery. Without telling anybody about his problem, he attended his trainings after wrapping himself with gauze to prevent blood from staining his clothes. That didn't work out well and blood still got to his clothes so when it was time for the competition, he was worried that his costume might get stained. To prevent that from happening, he put a strong tape on top of the gauze, which was painful, but did the job. In this condition, Yuzuru took part in the Japanese national competition, and despite a few mistakes in both of his programs, his endurance of pain didn't go in vain, and he actually won.

Yuzuru commented about this situation in his book by saying: "It was painful to bend forward and backward, but I tried to do whatever I could in that situation. I even did the Ina bauer, but I could not arch back at all. In fact, I also intended to do the biellmann spin! However, when I started the spin, I changed it into an A-line"

Yuzuru performing his free program and putting his hand on his stomach while leaving the ice during All Japan 2014:

5-  Rising from fifth place to first in the World Championships 2017:

At the World Championship in 2017, Yuzuru made some mistakes in the short program that left him sitting in fifth place behind his rivals. The gap between him and the first place was around 11 points. He was so disappointed in himself but didn't give up. He wanted to go practice harder. However, his coaches stopped him from overworking himself and made sure that he takes a good rest and goes through a normal practice. After that, he collected himself, focused, stayed calm and presented one of the greatest performances ever. It was flawless and magnificent. His coach Brian Orser said that he felt privileged to have witnessed this performance. Yuzuru got a very high score that made him scream and left him on the verge of shedding happy tears. His coach Brian Orser was speechless while his other coach Tracy Wilson had her mouth wide open in astonishment. With that, Yuzuru was able to rise from fifth place to first and win the championship.

Yuzuru performing his free program and receiving his score at the WC 2017:

6- Winning the second Olympic title right after being away from the ice for 3 months due to a severe injury:

Before the beginning of the Olympic season, Yuzuru was done with his preparation very early and was all ready to compete. His coach Brian Orser couldn't believe how smoothly things were going and felt a little uneasy about the fact that Yuzuru was ready very early. His worry wasn't pointless because soon enough Yuzuru sustained a severe injury. It happened during the official practice before NHK. Yuzuru was practicing (4Lutz) which was a new jump he has been practicing that season. He landed the jump in a wrong way causing ligament damage to his right ankle. The injury forced him out of competition for the rest of the season.

Yuzuru's fall and injury at NHK 2017:

Yuzuru disappeared and was away from the ice for three months. During that time, he didn't make any T.V appearances or interviews. Thus, nobody knew anything about him and his condition. His participation in the Olympics and the mere ability to perform again became uncertain. A lot of people doubted he would be able to comeback. However, he showed up at Incheon Airport in South Korea surrounded by guards and declared that he was ready to compete and that he believes he has the potential to win more than any other skater. After that, he avoided talking to the press until the end of the competition.

Yuzuru's arrival at Incheon Airport to participate at the 2018 Olympics:

According to his coach, Brian Orser, Yuzuru returned to the ice only six weeks before the Olympics and had to relearn everything and take baby steps to be able to perform again. He was practicing strokes, single and double jumps while watching his training mate and rival, Javier Fernandez, do a full run through of his programs with triples and quads. Yuzuru was able to land triples only three weeks before the Olympics and started landing quads just two weeks before the Olympics.

During the official open practice before the competition, Yuzuru made sure not to reveal his abilities and current condition nor his planned layout. He simply did some strokes and single jumps then left the rink. He chose his layout after studying his rivals and calculating how many points he would potentially need to win. He did his calculations on an app that he developed as part of his studies at the university.

In the short program segment, Yuzuru put out a great performance that was so close to the world record (which he holds). He won first place at this segment. Seeing the results, he felt relieved and assured so he allowed himself to reduce the difficulty of his free program. He was one-step away from winning the Olympics again. He needed to put out another great performance during the free program, and fortunately, that's exactly what he did. He performed a memorable free program filled with emotions, and once he finished, he screamed: "I won. I won!" which was true! He became the first skater to win the Olympics consecutively in 66 years.

Yuzuru's free program at the 2018 Olympics:

The moment that Yuzuru is announced as the winner of the 2018 Olympics:

7- Receiving the gold medal on crutches during Rostelecom Cup 2018:

After winning the Olympics, Yuzuru decided to pay tribute to his role models in figure skating; the Russian legend Evgeny Plushenko and the American Johnny Weir. He chose one of Plushenko's programs as his free program and one of Weir's as his short. He adapted the programs to his own style but still kept some touches from the original ones. Since it was a tribute, he decided to perform his free program in the hometown of his Russian idol and in front of his people. That is why he chose to participate in Rostelecom Cup, which is one of the events of the Grand Prix Series, and is held in Russia. He performed a great short program and everything was going well until he injured his right foot again during the practice before the free program. He was advised to withdraw. However, he absolutely wanted to perform his tribute to the Russian legend, Plushenko, in Russia. He has prepared a lot for this performance and came all the way to Russia to do it so he didn't want all of that to be pointless. He decided to take strong painkillers and perform his free program. He lowered the difficulty of the program and then presented a great performance in front of the Russian crowd that brought him the gold medal. After the performance, he started moving on crutches and admitted that without the painkillers, he wouldn't have been able to skate. He received the gold medal that night on crutches with fans cheering for him and holding up signs that says: "Yuzu we love you from all over the world".

Yuzuru receiving the gold medal on crutches at Rostelecom 2018:

8- Conquering his fears during the season of 2019-2020:

Yuzuru has suffered from a lot of injuries throughout his career. More than once, he thought that he is facing the end of his career because of an injury. Therefore, his main goal during the season of 2019-2020 was to finish the season without injuries. He finished his first two competitions safely and arrived at Japan to participate in NHK, which was his second Grand Prix assignment. Many of his injuries happened in his second GP event and he was conscious about this fact. He was afraid of getting hurt again and was visibly shaking before the beginning of his free program. As a result of his nervousness he missed a combination. However, he pulled himself together and improvised a new combination to recover the points he missed. He thought of the new combination, calculated its points and made sure that it's not repeated all while performing amazingly. Once he came out of the rink, his coach Ghislain gave him a hug and said: "You know what? You conquered your fear!".

Yuzuru shaking before performing his free program at NHK 2019 + full performance:

Yuzuru continued to overcome his fears in the final of the Grand Prix. He was setting in second place after the short program and the gap of points between him and his rival was big. He felt that winning may not be possible this time; nonetheless, he still wanted to do his best and give a respectable performance. He decided to raise the number of quad jumps in his program to five for the first time ever in his career. In addition, he declared that he will bring back the quad Lutz, which is the jump that caused his injury before the 2018 Olympics. It's a jump that he never dared to perform again in competitions since that incident. However, he overcame his fear and performed a flawless quad Lutz during the free program with four other quad jumps in the GPF, challenging not only his fear, but also his stamina that has always been an obstacle for him. He did not win the gold medal, but won his own fight against his fears and limits as well as the hearts and respect of the audience.

Yuzuru performing quad Lutz+ full performance of the free program at GPF2019:

9- Winning the bronze medal in the World Championship 2021 despite an asthma attack and many other hurdles.

During the 2020-2021 season, the whole world was going through struggles because of Corona Virus and Yuzuru was no exception. He had to train on his own in Japan all year long away from his coaches and physical therapist in Canada. He prepared new programs for the season with his choreographers by receiving videos and training accordingly without any supervision. During the season, his hometown was struck by an earthquake twice. The last struck happened right before he traveled to Stockholm to participate in the WC. According to him, the inside of his home was a mess and he couldn't use the train to go to Tokyo and board the plane as planned. As a result, he arrived to Stockholm one day later than planned, thus, he had to change his training plans as well. However, his coach Brian Oreser said that Yuzuru is not the type of athlete who gets phased by such problems and he was right. Yuzuru did perfect run through of his programs during his official practices. He also performed his lively short program very well and won the small gold medal of the segment.

Yuzuru performing his short program at WC 2021:

Yuzuru was all set to win the World Championship for the third time, but something unexpected happened before the free program. He was supposed to start warming up one hour prior the turn of his group (the last group), but he was nowhere to be seen at the venue until it was almost time for the last group to compete. His coach Brian Orser said that he was worried and didn't know where Yuzuru was. He asked the head of the Japanese team but they simply told him: "He is somewhere else". Brian kept on going back and forth between the rink where two of his students were competing and the warm up area where Yuzuru was supposed to be, but Yuzuru did not show up. After Brian's students finished their turn, it was almost time for Yuzuru's group so Brian went to the locker room to see if Yuzuru was there. Usually, Yuzuru would put his skating boots in the locker room before the six-minuets warm up of his group and Brian would come to carry his tissue box, and then they would head to the rink together. However, Brian didn't find Yuzuru in the locker room. Yuzuru was caught on camera sitting on a chair at the warm up area, resting his head on the wall and looking exhausted while taking off his mask impatiently. At that time, the announcement of Keegan Messing's score from the group before the last one, could be heard in the background.

Yuzuru at the warm up area before skating his free program at the WC 2021:

When Brian finally found Yuzuru at the warm up area, he said that he knew something must have happened to him but he didn't ask him about it. Instead, he tried to encourage him by saying energetically: "Let's go!"

Yuzuru showed up at the rink without styling his hair unlike the norm. He made a lot of mistakes in the first part of his free program as if he was not the same person who did a perfect run through one day ago. He said that he suddenly couldn't find his balance but he did try his best. He explained that with every mistake, he tried to at least not fall. Later on, the Russian media reported that the Russian doctor who was accompanying their team at the competition said that Yuzuru has had an asthma attack right before coming to the venue and has asked for his help. Yuzuru never talked to the media about what happened before the free program and why he was late. When he was asked about his asthma he only admitted to feeling a little asthmatic after the free program. Despite all of that, Yuzuru managed to win the bronze medal and contribute in securing three spots to team Japan at the Olympics.

The mystery of what happened to Yuzuru before the free program would have stayed unsolved if it wasn't for the Russian doctor. The reason is that Yuzuru doesn't like to make excuses for himself. He once said in an old interview that he used to make a lot of excuses for himself when he was young but then he realized that real strong skaters don't do that and that he wouldn't learn anything if he keeps on making excuses. He took the renowned Japanese skater Mao Asada as an example when she competed with a bone fracture without uttering a word about it. That must be the reason why he never takes his asthma as an excuse or talks about it.

10- Achieving his childhood dreams one by one:

Since ever Yuzuru was young he declared that he wants to be the Olympic champion and he wants to land a quad Axel. He went on to achieve his Olympic dream in 2014; making history by being the first Japanese male skater to win an Olympic gold medal ever. However, he said that it’s not over yet because the plan in his head is to win the Olympics twice. He kept on improving himself and walking towards his dream while making a lot of sacrifices and overcoming injuries. At the end, he achieved his dream and made history once again by being the first skater in 66 years to win the gold medal at the Olympics consecutively. He then made a statement saying that he feels happy and that this happiness is what he gets in return to the sacrifices he made. After that, he said that he feels freed from the pressure of having to produce results. Thus, he announced that he is going to skate for himself from then on. It was time for him to start focusing on the other dream of his childhood which was the quad Axel. He made it clear that landing it in a competition is his next goal and didn’t allow himself to get swayed by what others are doing or what competitions he is losing. He stayed focused on his goal and is reported to be getting closer to achieving it.  

Yuzuru's path has never been covered with flowers. It was hard and painful most of the time but yuzuru always turns the pain into success and fulfillment with his perseverance, becoming an icon of inspiration to many people. We wish him a lot of happiness and success in the future.

Translation of Yuzuru's book is from:

https://bit.ly/3vSGgBz

[populationpensive]

Difference

Found this in my drafts from when I was on burn service- not sure why I didn’t share it before. I think because at the time I wrote it, I was very angry and felt that I shouldn’t write something and post it out of anger. It’s been many months since this patient case, and I feel ready to share it. 

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

I am frequently asked by a variety of people how I do my job. “How do you work in burn?? How do you handle seeing the things you see?” HOW?” I’ve got a simply and more thought-out/complex answer for that question depending on where I am or who I’m with. This week, I’ve been challenged by my job in profound way. While what I’m about to say is at times graphic and upsetting, I really want people to consider the unimaginable - that you, a friend, or a loved one may be put in a situation where who have to make a decision. 

We recently received a patient who was regrettably burned >60% TBSA in a house fire. Tragic story in all ways. This person, we will can him Bill, is almost 70  y/o with a variety of health ailments which limit function on even the best of days. Bill’s burns are on his face, back, chest, abdomen, buttocks, and bilateral upper extremities with severe inhalation injury. Most burns are full thickness or likely to convert. When we receive a new patient, we begin to fluid resuscitate them until we can speak with family unless they are quite clearly charred (yes, this is a thing and it is as horrific as you may imagine). 

We have a few decent mortality indices in burn. The most reliable index we have in the revised Baux score which accounts for age, %TBSA, and inhalation injury. The presence of inhalation injury generally pushes the likelihood of death up by 15-20%. By this index, Bill has an unsurvivable injury. This was, of course, explained to the family. They decided to move forward. 

Sometimes, it’s a crap shoot if someone will survive resuscitation. Families sometimes want to see if their loved one can make it through this process. Someone who is already older or ill will receive up to 20, 30, even 40 liters of fluid in 24 hours. In conjunction with normal burn swelling, this renders someone completely unrecognizable. 

Bill struggled a little with resuscitation initially and required more fluid that we anticipated. Because his injuries were circumferential, we had to perform escharotomies on the hands and arms. We make incisions in the skin down to subcutaneous fat from the upper arm to the wrist because the extraordinary amount of fluid compresses the muscles and starves them of oxygen; the escharotomy is meant to reverse compartment syndrome and potentially allow Bill to use him arms if he manages to survive. 

Bill survives resuscitation and daily monitoring of the burns reveals conversion to full thickness. All areas of full thickness (3rd degree) burn injury have to be surgically removed because that dead tissue will cause him to be septic in short order. We explain this to the family, but also caution that we are not confident that he will survive surgery due to his other health problems and depth of burn. We caution them that he is at a high risk of being completely colonized with bacteria, fungus, and mold. We are asked to proceed anyway. 

In the OR, we use large blades akin to a cheese slicer to remove this dead tissue. An initial large excision in the burn OR usually ends with the floor covered in blood and it is not uncommon for patients to lose up to a liter intra-operatively. Poor Bill had his entire arms filleted down to muscle, and that muscle is beginning to look necrotic. All the skin and fat on his chest is removed. Down to muscle. Which also doesn’t look healthy. Many of these muscles do not contract with electrocautery.

We took intra-operative pictures and showed the family. Sometimes, we do this if we feel the family might not fully understand what we are doing to their loved ones. Because, and I have to stress this, there is a VERY big difference between doing something FOR a patient and doing something TO them. We are currently doing things TO Bill at this point. 

“He’s a fighter! He believes in miracles!” says his family. Ok. But. 

We have weekly care conferences with all families to discuss goals of care. The family wants to proceed full steam ahead in spite of our advise. When we asked “what would your dad want?” (because we are MORALLY and ETHICALLY obligated to care about the wants/desires of the PATIENT), we were told that as his medical team that we were not privy to that information; “we won’t tell you that.” We were told that we were being “too serious” and that unless his organs fail and his neuro status is trash that they will press forward. We were told that they expected their dad to be in a wheel chair anyway so his future contractures from his burns “aren’t a problem.” 

It really took every ounce of patience within me not to not slap them. It really did. I understand the trauma and shock of a loved one being in that sort of situation. Not personally, of course, but I have seen this happen so many times that I know it is trying. Making decisions like this is so difficult. Families are forced to go through stages of grief at warp speed and processing everything is undoubtedly overwhelming. I know that. However. It is ABSURD that we were told we don’t have any right to know what the patient wants. Like, it doesn’t work that way. As the living next of kin, it’s YOUR JOB to be speak on their behalf. If they don’t want this shit done to them, you’re obligated to speak out. 

In the end, the patient coded. We brought him back. After this the family FINALLY came to terms with the unsurvivability of the injury. They let their dad go peacefully. 

What forever burns me up about this is that we were all medically hijacked by a family that could not see how cruel the treatments were to this individual. No matter what methods we tried or how sensitive we tried to be. By the time it clicked with them, we had effectively tortured their loved one and left them...left them like that. Half their skin missing. Covered in wet bandages ripe with bacteria. The smell. Everything. 

The reason why I so candidly write this is that I think it’s important to know that just because we have the medical ability to “fix” something does not always mean that we should. Of course, every patient situation is different and every family is different. But I encourage you as a providers and I encourage you as family members to really weigh the treatment options. What is the result of the option. If you’re a surgeon, speak candidly about what exactly you are doing. 

Because, in the end, there is a very big difference between doing something FOR the patient and doing something TO them. 

[nutty1005]

A Dream Like a Dream – Chengdu Stop Lower Half by Addison20999

Original article: https://weibo.com/6596396544/KkVEp7NPS Original author: Addison20999

Image Cr. REDOct·肖战

Chengdu Lower Half Repo (Only watched lower half and read the book, Seat was 1280￥)

I knew that he would be lying on the hospital bed, hence once I entered I was arranging my binoculars to look at him. I only saw the blanket pile, he was sleeping under it, not moving, like a little mound. The blanket was like the curtain, fully covering him, and it also meant that the story had not started yet. The female doctor was already in character, she was at the foot of the bed, moving her hands with the rhythm of breathing.

Then it was the warm reminder, the stage became dark, then the light came onto the hospital room. The story has begun.There was heavy breathing in the background, “In~ out~ in~ out~”, the doctor was still performing her ritual.Suddenly, No. 5 drew open his blanket and questioned her, the heavy breathing had annoyed this man who had a fever for many years. (This was my first time seeing him and his No. 5, his face was so clear before my binoculars, I was slightly stunned, hence this part of the repo might be very “subconscious”.)

No. 5 started telling his story to the doctor, the story where he went to seek Gu Xianglan. At the other end of the stage, the story was also being performed. The No. 5 today sat on his hospital bed, he was deep in thoughts as he looked across to his experience, and started filling up the story being enacted then. As he said, he looked across the audience, there was an instant where he looked past me, and on my end it felt like we locked gaze. What kind of eyes are those, so bright and clear, there was no possibility to explore or think about what kind of lines created such alluring eyes. When I’m seeing him live, I can only see his bright gaze, I can’t see anything else!

Luckily, the No. 5 on the hospital bed was a narrator, I still had ears.The voice in the lines were No. 5’s, the No. 5 who was being crafted in the play. The resonance from his chest voice, the lines were superb, they carried the discomfort from No. 5’s illness, they were low, helpless but not deliberate, very natural, and every syllable was clear. (Lines in plays are really important, especially when many people spoke at the same time, if you weren’t clear no one would understand what you’ve said, the lower half had Shanghainese dialect, and even though I’m from Zhejiang, I wouldn’t really understand every dialect, so having good lines is really important!) Xiao Zhan’s voice was like a piano, it’s already so gentle and attractive, when he adds in the sickly tone and the melancholic emotion, truly, only those who heard it would understand.

Very soon, No. 5 went off stage, and soon it was old Gu Xianglan narrating her story with the Baron, or rather, the past lives of No. 5 and his wife. This story was very long, it encompassed Shanghai and France, it encountered republic era, World War II, the French restoration from occupation to 1966 when Wang Debao passed away, it spoke of Gu Xianglan lifetime as a man’s plaything seeking the true nature of art, abandoned and becoming a road sweeper, a maid and a nanny, and finally returning to Shanghai with Wang Debao. Xu Qing is undoubtedly an actress who could influence her audience very well, I had seen a lot of cliché stories before, but yet I was drawn into her Gu Xianglan’s life as a famous courtesan in a high class brothel, as a famous French artist in the saloon…After Gu Xianglan ended her resentment with the Baron in her own method, the No. 5 who came to ask about old Gu Xianglan was about to appear.

When it was still gloomy, I discovered that the central stage had many shadows overlapping, as though there were many patient beds in a row. When the light lit up the stage, No. 5 was holding old Gu Xianglan’s spotted hands, side seated by the bed, deeply concerned and patient as he listened to the old lady talk about her life. The old lady was already dying, it was unclear if she mistook him or she saw the true nature of it, she called No. 5 “Henry”, the man who abandoned her to the chaos of France. Old Gu Xianglan spoke to No. 5 the words she never managed to tell the Baron, and from that she found her closure, release and the relief from feeling that they no longer owed each other anything. Whereas No. 5’s emotions was affected by Gu Xianglan, he said, when he saw Gu Xianglan being upset, he was upset too. Perhaps because this was also a part of No. 5’s story, he was already within the story, and naturally he could not help himself.

I could only see No. 5’s side profile, I saw a side profile of very smooth lines, very different from the adorable him when he just debuted, the collagen at his current age is just too perfect, there weren’t too much or too little, the lines and his bone structure combined together to sculpt all kinds of stories.After Gu Xianglan passed away, No. 5 walked around the stage, it was very different from how Xiao Zhan usually walked, the theme for this part of the story was “redemption” and “closure”, it was the long gloomy day, the sudden calm that came after a lifetime of glory and tribulations. When he walked before the audience, and looked at us with his already red and puffy eyes, how could anyone not be touched by him? He stood there, his eyes reddened and full of tears, his expression helpless and sorrowful. I thought, I was already absorbed into that story because of his gaze, I really wanted to hug him so that he wouldn’t be so upset. I could not bear to let him stand there, so frail, and allow him to go through so much trials because of his previous lifetime! But, he was No. 5, his happiness and sorrow had been predetermined by that previous lifetime, I could not help him, I could only watch from afar, watch his life be crushed without reason, shattered, pieced together again, and barely survive. He could only bring his luggage away from us, and leave us with a slightly hunched shadow. This path was so long, and he walked so long.

At the end of the road, was a late farewell in the lower half. He returned to Jiang Hong’s apartment, with heavy panting, he took a long time to climb that staircase. I was regretful that I didn’t watch the upper half to make comparisons.He opened the non-existent door to the apartment, in that apartment he looked over to the white chapel faraway. In that instant, I felt that he coincided with the Gu Xianglan, who also looked over to a chapel as she drew in a dark attic, it was the keen loneliness and desolation that connected both of them.

No. 5 found the letter Jiang Hong left for him in the floorboards, he kneeled on the ground as he read, first it was his voice and Jiang Hong’s, then Jiang Hong continued reading solo. Jiang Hong described how she lived after No. 5 left her, perhaps it was also Gu Xianglan’s thoughts after the Baron left her: “Instead of letting that period of time extend to become an eternity of memory, I’d rather live fully in that period.”, “You and I could have such a period of time together, and it was so good, that’s great”… As the letter was being read, No. 5’s teardrops fell drop by drop, these teardrops were not teardrops, but they were the mixture of emotions, every drop, was the resonance to a long sorrow, the yearning of the short-lived happiness, the saudade for those who left him… The man kneeled before me on an empty stage, his surging emotions crystalizing into teardrops that crashed onto my heart. I didn’t think of wiping away his tears, because he was No. 5, he needed to complete his life journey on stage. Following the thread of fates, he came to the place where the Baron and his African lady lived and met his daughter from his previous timetime. Thereafter, he sat there alone, and gave himself to the surrounding sorrow left behind by his fate.

Finally, he returned to the castle, carrying his completed handicraft, although his emotions were like he was still walking through the gloom, he had already put on his coat of polite smiles. After all the twists and turns, once again he returned to the lake side, this time, it was a special millennium eve ritual: to place all the things you do not want to bring into the millennium, such as illness, wars, inequality and all that is bad, into a box and throw it into the lake – “let all the things you do not want to bring with you stay in that mysterious space”.

The ritual started, singing, applause, cheering, dancing, flowers and hugging. But “smiles and songs do not belong to him”, No. 5 stood with his back facing us, quietly watching the lake in the distance, it was like he was a traveler tossed here from a mysterious space, in the chaos of light and shadow, interlaced in the cheering crowd. Was he really able to leave the things he didn’t want to bring with him behind? Everything was preordained in the cycle of fate, in the predestination, everyone had to face the consequences of their actions, no matter whether it was this lifetime, or the next lifetime. Perhaps this also indicated the closure between Gu Xianglan and the Baron, that it would no longer impact the next lifetime.

He stood by the lake, stood in his own world, and I could not get in.After completing the farewell in No. 5’s life, we have to bid farewell to him as well. In this scene, he was the observer, he simply stood still. The half beam of warm light could not light up the entire darkness, I could only see his face. Precisely because he stood still, hence I had the chance to study and record him into my memory. Even light would fall in love with his side profile, brow bone, the outlines of his eyes, his nose, his philtrum, his lips, the clear jawline, smooth, clean, exquisite – these were my only sensations. I worked hard to hold onto my binoculars, but it was unavoidable as my hands shook when I breathed. As they shook, I subconsciously fell into a surreal state, it was like an exquisite porcelain doll, like an extraordinarily crafted human CG effect, even went beyond the boundaries of gender. He stayed still, so far and so frail, as though if I “shook” harder, he would disappear on the spot, and that would be all my fault. Really, photographs and videos could not record such beauty, it could convey beauty, but not the whole beauty, and this perhaps was left for us to see him vividly in life.

Finally, he stood there, facing us as he sang us a poem:

“Did anyone see my face? I think I remembered, I think I forgot, You used to linger in my dreams; I think I remembered, I think I forgot, I used to sing in your story; I think I remembered, I think I forgot.”

In the first phrase, he solemnly set the tone of the tune, and led the audience to immerse themselves into the life that he sang. When he sang to “forgot” of the second phrase, I clearly saw that he smiled gently, as though he was smiling at his life, heavy but yet as weightless as smoke. The third phrase when he sang “I” of “I think I forgot”, it was like this world, including his No. 5, had forgot what needed to be forgotten. “Reality is in fact an illusion that could not be captured, the problem is, this illusion keeps continuing.”

He simply is No. 5.

[sneezyminniejo]

Hii! Can I request a sickfic where Stray Kids are on tour in Japan and Hyunjin get a stomach bug? Thank you..

Here it is, hope you enjoy,

TW emeto

Hotel Mess

The Stray Kids members were currently in Japan for the last leg of their world tour. They had already done two concerts here and had one more scheduled for tonight and one for tomorrow night before heading back home. They were all still extremely excited and pumped for their concerts. Well all except for one member.

Hyunjin had woken up feeling like absolute shit. He had a headache, he felt both hot and cold, and his stomach was churning uncomfortably. He wasn't entirely sure how or where since he was really only ever around his fellow members, but it was clear he somehow caught a stomach bug.

Hyunjun knew that he needed to tell someone he was sick, but wasn't sure how to broach the topic. Mainly because Jisung's anxiety was flaring up a bit and he didn't want to make everyone more stressed.

However, Hyunjin didn't have to debate whether or not he should hide his illness, because as soon as he stood up he became extremely dizzy while his stomach lurched violently.

He did his best to stagger his way to the bathroom of his room, but didn't quite make it.

Before he could even reach the halfway mark to the bathroom, Hyunjun bent forward and gagged. A split second later a round of sick was making its appearance on the carpet of the hotel room. He dry heaved a couple of times after he finished puking then sat down next to the puddle, any energy he'd had previously, now depleted entirely.

Jisung, who had been in the bathroom brushing his teeth, had heard some kind of commotion coming from his roommate and fellow 2000 liner, but wasn't entirely sure what it was. He spit the toothpaste into the sink, rinsed his mouth, then left the bathroom to investigate.

What he found was Hyunjin sitting on the floor in between the two beds with a puddle of vomit next to him. He quickly hurried over to him and placed his hand on the older's forehead, not the slightest bit surprised to find him feverish.

"Jinnie, you feeling okay?" He asked his sick hyung. Hyunjin groaned while shaking his head while holding his abdomen. "Do you need help getting to the bathroom?" Jisung asked, not quite sure what all he could do, but gently helped Hyunjun to his feet when he nodded.

Jisung safely got Hyunjin situated in front of the toilet just in time to watch him begin puking again. Jisung watched his hyung empty the contents of his stomach for a good minute before helping him rest against the bathtub when he finished.

“Aish hyung, you aren’t in any condition for the concert tonight. I need to tell Chan hyung and figure out how to get the carpet cleaned.” Jisung was primarily thinking out loud, but Hyunjin heard every word and was in no condition to argue. As much as he’d like to argue about telling Chan he can’t perform, the room was spinning and there were two Jisungs. Hyunjin just wanted to go back to bed.

Jisung momentarily left the bathroom to go digging in his suitcase for the thermometer that he knew was in there. Chan always made sure that at least one member per rooming arrangement had one along with other items just in case. He quickly found it and scanned the other’s forehead. “Shit hyung, we need to get this lowered fast. Your fever is 103.2.” Jisung quickly turned on the faucet of the bathtub, making sure it was lukewarm and waited for it to fill up.

Jisung helped Hyunjin undress down to his boxers, then helped him into the tub. He then quickly left again to grab his phone and returned to the bathroom. When he got to the bathroom however, Hyunjin’s face somehow got paler and greener. Jisung rapidly grabbed the tiny trash can located near the toilet and held it under his hyung’s head.

Hyunjin gagged a couple of times before his head was basically thrust into the can as he dry heaved into it. After several moments of dry heaving, only a small stream of bile came out. Hyunjin leaned back when he was done and whimpered in discomfort. He then heard a phone ringing quickly followed by Jisug answering it.

“Yeah hyung, Jinnie is in zero condition for the concert tonight. He’s thrown up at least twice and he’s got a high fever.” Hyunjin turned to see that Jisung was talking on the phone.” Jisung sighed as he hung up the phone and turned back to Hyunjin.

“Chan hyung is having a manager talk with the front desk about getting us moved to a different room. You stay in the tub for a bit and I’ll make sure our suitcases are set for the move. Holler if you need me.” With that Jisung left the bathroom.

It only took a few minutes for Jisung to get everything put together and he returned grabbing the thermometer off the bathrom counter. He quickly scanned Hyunjin’s forehead again. “It’s a little bit lower hyung. It’s now 102.8. Let’s get you out of the tub and changed, the manager will be here shortly. The manager showed up and helped carry the bags while Jisung braced Hyunjin. He offered to carry the sick member, but Jisung adamantly refused not wanting to increase the chance of it spreading beyond him and Hyunjin. He just needed to convince Chan to let him sit out of the concert as well.

The duo got into the room and their manager told them that he called room service to bring up some soup. He then left to go buy some fever reducers on Jisung's request.

Jisung helped Hyunjun get settled on the bed nearest to the bathroom. "How do you feel hyung?" Jisung asked. "Like shit." Was all Hyunjin said. "I'm going to quick fill up the ice bucket. Do you think you'll be okay for a few minutes?" Hyunjin nodded and Jisung left the room with the bucket.

In the few minutes that Jisung was gone, the soup had arrived and was sitting on a cart outside the room. Jisung placed the ice bucket on the cart and wheeled into the room. He brought the bowl of soup over to the sick member then took the bucket to the bathroom to fill with water.

Hyunjin was a bit hesitant to eat the food. He wasn't sure how his body was going to tolerate anything, but also knew he needed to eat something. He began to eat slow bites of the soup as Jisung returned with a bucket of ice water and a washcloth.

Jisung sat on the bed next to Hyunjin and dipped the cloth in the bucket before wringing it out and placing it on the older's neck. Jisung then turned on the TV and began eating his own bowl of soup. The duo ate in relative silence, and by the time they finished Hyunjin was beginning to nod off.

Jisung quickly and quietly put the bowls back on the cart before getting back on the bed to cuddle with his sick hyung. He knew it wasn’t the smartest idea, but he knew that Hyunjin loved to cuddle when he wasn’t feeling good. Jisung also had a fairly strong immune system. He wasn’t sure when the last time he had last been genuinely sick with anything other than a minor cold, and those usually lasted like three days, so he wasn’t worried. Jisung fell asleep not too long after Hyunjin.

About an hour later, Hyunjin suddenly woke up a bit confused. He wasn’t entirely sure why he had woken up, but before he could ponder it any, he began throwing up all over the bed and his oldest dongsaeng.

Hyunjin felt like he couldn’t control himself at all. He could feel how his stomach contracted painfully as it pushed the bile and the soup from lunch up his throat. Which in turn triggered his gag reflex so he could properly expel whatever was making his stomach so angry.

Once he had finished puking, he was able to take note of what had happened and realized that he had puked all over his dongsaeng, who was sitting frozen on the bed and looked to be on the brink of tears. Hyunjin was about to start apologizing, but Jisung shot up and ran to the bathroom before he could. A few seconds later, Hyunjin could hear what sounded like Jisung puking.

“Sungie, are you okay?” Hyunjin called, guilty that his dongsaeng had evidently caught his stomach bug. He met with further retching around noises that sounded kind of like ‘I’m fine. A minute later, Jisung emerged from the bathroom, stripped down to his boxers.

“That did not feel good.” Jisung muttered as he dug through his suitcase for some clean clothes. He looked up to find Hyunjin looking extremely guilty. “What’s up hyung?” he asked somewhat cautiously. Hyunjin sniffled, “I got you sick.” Jisung chuckled at that.

“While I have to admit that puking so suddenly and hard like that did not feel good, and that technically you did cause the puking, I’m not sick.” Hyunjin’s face morphed from guilt and concern to confusion at that statement.

“I operate pretty well around vomit and people puking, but as soon as someone pukes on me, my body kind of freaks out and decides it needs to expel whatever as well. I promise I’m fine.” Jisung finished his explanation then began to strip the bed of the duvet, which caught the puke that hadn’t landed on his lap.

“I think you should take it easy tonight though Sung, just in case.” Jisung nodded in understanding and took his phone off the nightstand, calling Chan.

After a couple of rings, Chan picked up. “What’s up Sung, How’s Jinnie?” “About that hyung, Hyunjin threw up again, then threw up right after.” Chan sighed upon hearing this. “Alright, I’ll talk with the managers and the other members and see if we can manage the show with just six, or if we have to cancel or postpone tonight’s concert. We’ll discuss tomorrow’s concert tomorrow. Feel better you two.” Chan hung up shortly thereafter, leaving the two oldest 2000 liners to their own devices.

Jisung put the phone down and noticed the box of fever reducers he had completely forgotten about on the cart with the room service. He grabbed the thermometer, the medicine, and some crackers before going back over to Hyunjin. He scanned the older’s forehead with the thermometer. “The good news is your fever is still down a little at 102.8, but the bad news is it hasn’t gone down any more. Do you think you can stomach a few crackers and take some medicine?” Hyunjin nodded and took the crackers. After he ate the crackers he took the offered dose of medicine and slumped back against the pillow.

It was soon decided that it would be too difficult to rearrange the choreography from eight people to six on such short notice, so management issued a statement postponing the remaining two concerts for the following week. Thankfully the location they were performing in was free the following week, so it wasn’t too difficult to rearrange some things. Twitter and Bubble had been blowing up from concerned fans wishing the sick members ‘get well soon’.

During the week they now had off for recovery, Jisung made sure that no one else actually came into the room. He only opened the door to receive the food their manager had arranged, successfully keeping the stomach bug contained to his and Hyunjin’s hotel room.

Just as Jisung had told Hyunjin, he was absolutely fine. He had never developed a fever and only puked the one time, so it was fairly safe to say he hadn’t caught the virus.

Hyunjin on the other hand spent the first couple of days throwing up every few hours. Thankfully he was able to keep food down to some extent, so his fever was able to be kept at a manageable number. He stopped vomiting three days into the week, and his fever broke two days before the first rescheduled concert. Hyunjin went on vlive the day before the first concert to talk with Stay and assure them that he was feeling much better, but wouldn’t be dancing during the concert. Jisung also made an appearance and assured fans that no one else had gotten sick as they had both remained sequestered to their hotel room the entire time.

[nejiraez]

firsts! | bakugou/todoroki fluff hcs

anon asked: could i request firsts with bakugo & todoroki (and if u wanna add anyone else!) so like first hugs, first kisses, dates, etc, but reader initiated some firsts! I think it’ll be easier as headcanons, but whatever works for you! I don’t mind! 

genre: fluff not at how my fuckass delivering yall with todobaku hcs… on kaminari’s bday ahaha... 

first date

“You haven’t tried that Korean restaurant down the street yet, huh? I’ll take you there this Friday then.”

That was Bakugou initiated his first date with you. It’s safe to presume that you two had relations with one another/been talking to each other prior to his demand of showing you around the city.

You being unfamiliar with places that you haven’t been to yet was used to Bakugou’s advantage and aided him with an excuse to take you out.

If you’re eating somewhere pays for you both. No ifs, ands, or buts, unless you want to be that couple that argues with the waiter for who the bill should go towards.

In the early stages of you going out, Bakugou would swear up and down that they’re not dates. At least he didn’t label them as so.

But the more he planned in advance of which place you two should tend to next, he grew more lenient with the term.

If you hit him with the “What are we?” line on your umpteenth outing with him, Bakugou’s quick to snap back at you with, “What do you mean? Thought we made it obvious already.”

Bakugou wouldn’t just go out of his way paying for anybody’s meals and showing them around the city back to back on endless occasions.

first kiss

Bakugou’s first kiss with you was terrifying, especially since you had initiated it.

He’s hyper aware of how your lips move against his, the hushed breaths that you exhale that are in tune with his, and how enticing the faint citrus-like scent of your hair is.

By the end of it, his stomach was in tight knots and there was a faint layer of sweat that coated the palms of his hands. He was convinced that whatever he was experiencing were the reactions of some unknown illness that he may have caught.

However, it’s easy to confuse feeling feverish with the rush of adrenaline, especially after something as monumental as you both stealing each other’s first kiss.

Seconds after you pull away from him, you're bold enough to ask, “Well, how was it?” 

Bakugou would shrug as he diverts his gaze to something else in the room other than your face. “You were fine, I guess. I dunno…”

It was much more than that though, it was amazing.

So much so that he’d contradict himself by leaning in for one more. Just to etch the feeling of you onto his skin.

first declaration of love

The first time you tell Bakugou that you loved him was when he was dropping you off at your apartment, right as you were about to step off the elevator. 

He was always acquainted with seeing you off at your floor, and that night wasn’t any different.

However, unlike the usual routine you told Bakugou that you didn’t need him seeing you off at your door, settling for you both to part ways at the elevators.

“I love you, see you tomorrow, yeah?” 

There’s a tranquil silence that hangs in the air right after. Bakugou manages to hide the way his fingers pause before pressing elevator’s controls. He’s stunned.

You thought he was about to respond by the way the corners of his lips twitched with the intent to say something, anything. However...

The cunt closes the doors on your face. His finger would still be jabbed against the “closed” button the entire ride down as he struggles to wrap his head around the fact that you love him. Its strange at first, hearing those three words which were meant for him linger in the air. 

Bakugou doesn’t know how to react, maybe he would’ve replied with a rushed “You too” had he not been so quick to flee the scene.

But one thing is for sure, the thought of it makes him feel giddy. It’s a scenario that his mind often wanders off to and replays when he’s alone beside himself.

He uses “I love you” scarcely, not throwing it around with reckless abandon so that it doesn’t lose it’s meaning. 

Of course, through his actions he lets it be known that he indeed does love you. But Bakugou saves his verbal affirmations for moments when he really feels the need to say so, when you need to hear him say it.

first date

Todoroki is the one who brings up the idea that you two should visit your city’s art gallery together.

Right off the bat, Todoroki is keen on keying you in on the fact that it is a date. Just so there isn’t any confusion.

Like Bakugou, Todoroki would also pay for the majority of your dates if money was involved.

He insists that he does since, you being there with him and gracing him with your presence is reimbursement in itself. Cheesy but it works because his words are endearing as hell.

Todoroki would pick you up from your place and drop you off each and every time you both go out.

He’s a gentleman and sticks true to that character every time that he manages to snag you way from everyone for you two to spend the day alone together.

first kiss

Your first kiss with Shouto happens in a spurt of reckless affection which was initiated by him.

It wasn’t planned or anything. His body acted before his mind could tell him otherwise, and before you know it, Todoroki’s lips were on yours, carefully melded together.

He’s very gentle with you, cautious of where he rests his hands and is courteous to fact to move slowly as to not freak you out.

You were hesitant, your fingers twitched the more he peppered brief kisses against your lips, to which he’d respond by placing a reassuring hand on top of your own, easing your nerves away.

The more kisses you share, you’re brought with. Todoroki kisses are filled with great emotion and love that it feels as though you may drown in his affections if you don’t pull away for air.

To be frank, you learn that Todoroki is an incredible kisser. 

first declaration of love

In your relationship, you find that it’s Todoroki who does a lot of the firsts for you both.

So when it was you who surprised him with the first “I love you” he was taken aback. Todoroki’s unable to hide the overflowing adoration in his expression the moment your level your gaze with his.

He’d huff out a laugh, but it was not directed at you. The sensations of his heart skipping a beat, having jumbled words caught in his throat, the slow rise of a blush dusting his cheeks he was engulfed by a flurry of emotions.

Everything that he encountered in that moment all felt so foreign to him. The passion, the feeling of being lighthead, it was exhilarating.

Todoroki even thought of it to be amusing that he managed to be overwhelmed all by you telling him that you loved him.

But now, whenever you uttered your admiration to him, Todoroki is quick to follow suit. 

His declarations come in various forms with every action that he performs, every praise of adoration that he recites to you, his stringed words of consolation, he lets it be known that he loves you each and every time as if it were his last.

He’s more than happy to share his first experiences of love with somebody, and he’s thanks his lucky stars that that someone winded up to be you.

[alarawriting]

52 Project #24: The Princesses and the Peas

(Inspired by a post on Tumblr and if I can ever find it again I will link it here.)

(Not proofread, beta’ed, or even read through a second time because this is massively late and if I don’t post within the next hour it will officially be next week everywhere in the United States and I will have failed in my mission. I’ll try to re-read and proofread and edit next week. Also this note is highly unprofessional, but I learned my relationship to my audience through fanfic, so this is how I roll.)

***

Surely you have heard a similar tale before, almost but not entirely like this one, of the queen who sought the perfect wife for her son, the crown prince.

The queen had ruled the land alone since the death of her husband. She was praised for her wisdom and her benevolence toward her people. But she was no longer young, and it was time to make sure her son made a politically beneficial marriage, to strengthen his position when it came time for him to take the crown. Many in the land whispered that the young man would make a terrible king, and wanted him to abdicate in favor of his younger sister, who was beautiful and bright and smiling. Celia, the young sister, could look anyone in the eye and make them believe that in that moment, they were the most important person in her world. Arien, the prince… could not do that.

The prince had a talent for mathematics, and it had expressed itself very young. Some said he should be the chancellor of the exchequer rather than the king. But Queen Leyta knew her son would make a compassionate and wise ruler as well as a prudent one. He also had a gift for seeing the humanity behind the numbers he calculated, of being able to think of the impact they would have on the people he would one day rule.

Once, when he was a child of six, his nursemaid lost him. Leyta found him behind the kitchens, picking through the garbage bins to find table scraps. She would have punished the kitchen staff for allowing such a thing, but Arien insisted that she should not. “It’s not their fault, Mother. I ordered them to let me, and I’m the prince, so they had to obey me. I told them that if you became angry at them I would tell you that they were only obeying my orders. They can’t get in trouble for obeying their liege.”

Leyta sighed. She could punish them for obeying their liege, when their liege was 6 and the thing he wanted to do was eat garbage, but she wouldn’t, because she knew why they obeyed. When the prince was thwarted, he would ask why. And if he received an answer, he would argue with it and present his position. Sometimes, this debate would lead to him accepting the necessity, and calmly going about his business, seeming to forget all about what he’d asked. More often, if he didn’t get an answer to “why”, or he didn’t like the answer and thought it didn’t make sense, and he was still thwarted, he would start to scream and hide under tables, or scream and run around and break things, or scream and slam his head into the wall, and he wouldn’t stop even when offered the thing he wanted. It was very, very hard to calm him once he started shrieking. So instead of punishing the kitchen staff, she asked Arien, “Why were you eating garbage?”

“Our food is bought with the taxes we take from the people,” he said seriously. “If we wasted less food, we wouldn’t have to tax the people as sorely as we do, and they would have more money to buy things for themselves.”

So she took him aside and told him that the scraps were fed to the dogs, who helped the palace huntsmen bring down game, or the goats and fowl, who gave the palace milk, meat and eggs, or they were tilled into the ground to make the fields around the palace more fruitful. They did not, in fact, go to waste; food that wasn’t wholesome for humans to eat could still feed animals, who would turn it back into wholesome food.

Then she had a lengthy discussion with him about tax policy, and listened gravely to his suggestions as to how they could ease the burdens on the people, and told him what the problems with his ideas were. And when some of his ideas didn’t have significant problems, she told him so, and discussed them with him, and even implemented a few as policy.

Arien also had a great love for bugs. He spent much of his days wandering the grounds, sketching every insect he saw, capturing some to study them and figure out what they ate. When Leyta learned of this, she found a learned scholar of insects, and hired him to be Arien’s tutor in the matter of insects, only. The man was at first openly resentful of being required to work with a small child, assuming that Arien would be a spoiled princeling with no real interest in learning, but when he discovered Arien’s love for the tiny creatures, he embraced the boy wholeheartedly and tutored him as well as he could.

The prince had few friends. He was open and innocent, happy to make friends with any child close to his own age, but the honest children who truly wanted a playmate were put off by Arien’s tendency to talk about bugs and math almost constantly. The children who put up with Arien’s chatter were, to Leyta’s eyes, obviously coached by ambitious mothers, pretending to friendship with the strange young prince to improve their position at court. She arranged for most of these children to be sent away – either their mothers dismissed, or the family sent to one of the crown’s holdings with some duty to perform or another. Arien was saddened by the disappearance of his playmates, since he didn’t realize they saw him as mere stepping stones to power. Celia knew, and would comfort her brother as well as she could… but she didn’t have a lot of patience for math, tax policy, and insects either.

As he grew up, Arien continued to display a strange mixture of wisdom and childishness. He would run around the palace grounds, playing with children far younger than he was, and they were not old enough to try to manipulate him, so Queen Leyta left them alone. He enjoyed riding his horse and taking care of it, and was often found at the stables, for he believed his horse needed to cared for in just the exact way he did it, and he didn’t trust the stablehands to follow his instructions exactly. He would spend hours discussing the politics of the land and the problems facing various groups of his subjects with Leyta and her own advisors, and then he would scream and throw himself on the floor at dinner because a chef had put visible onions in his soup, and he would need to be put to bed with his favorite blanket and a knitted doll of a dog that he’d had when he was four.

People said that the boy was touched in the head, that he was slightly mad, and also, that a future king who threw temper tantrums over onions was not to be trusted. But they weren’t, exactly, tantrums, as Leyta saw them. They didn’t stop when the problem was solved, they usually didn’t include demands – in fact, usually it was hard to get the prince to explain what was wrong, because he seemed to lose much of his ability to speak when these fits came on him. And she could see in his eyes that he was terrified and overwhelmed, not angry and demanding. Arien needed the world to work a certain way, and when it did not, it left him adrift, frightened and lost in a world that seemed to make no sense to him anymore.

Some of these ways that the world needed to work involved food, and the importance of not being able to see onions, for an onion large enough to see was large enough to crunch in his mouth in a way that apparently was so disgusting it would make him lose his ability to eat all day. There were similar rules regarding peppers, and certain cream dishes. Other ways the world needed to work regarded his mother’s advisors treating him like their future king, not in terms of obsequious deference but in terms of actually listening to his ideas and explaining things to him – even when he was merely eight. And then there was the care of animals – his own animals needed to be cared for in an exact way, and if he saw anyone being cruel to an animal, he might actually become violent to that person. The same was true of stronger people being cruel to weaker ones. When he was fourteen, he heard a maid crying, and asked a kitchen maid to find out for him what had happened. And then, when he learned that a nobleman under his roof had ill used her and cast her aside, he went to his mother and demanded the man be whipped for his crimes. The political explanations she gave for why that couldn’t be done fell on deaf ears; he was a cruel man and he’d harmed someone he had power over, and that was all Arien cared about. Leyta only managed to satisfy him by sending the man on a probably futile sea expedition to try to find a cheaper source of rice.

This was the boy that Queen Leyta had to find a proper bride for.

Her mother-in-law, the Dowager Queen, had ideas, but it had been many years since the Dowager Queen had actually held any power; she was one of Leyta’s advisors now, nothing more. So the idea would have to be one that Leyta agreed with, herself.

A ball to introduce eligible young women with powerful families to the prince? No. The prince didn’t handle crowds or parties well, or meeting a lot of new people in one evening.

A series of daytime salons, where a small group of eligible women would converse over luncheon with the prince? No. That was still too many people and the prince  was self-conscious about people watching him eat.

Individual visits from each eligible young lady and her chaperones, to the palace, to meet with Arien, and also to be approved by Leyta? Yes! An excellent idea. Leyta had her secretary write up the invitations, to all the young women whose parents had written to her or the Dowager to express an interest.

In the palace was a suite of rooms that had been Leyta’s, once, when she’d lived in this palace to learn its ways before marrying the then-prince. She had that suite cleaned and prepared for the guests. Sleeping quarters to either side for the princess’s guards. Ladies-in-waiting to sleep in the antechamber outside the princess’s bedroom. And inside the princess’s bedroom, a bed heaped with several thick eiderdown duvets and pillows, incredibly soft, with sheets made from the finest linens.

And under the second eiderdown duvet, dried peas.

Queen Leyta tested the peas. When she sat on the bed, she couldn’t feel them. If she laid in the bed, she could barely tell they were there. But when she had Arien try it, he said, “You’re going to take them out before the guests come, right? The peas make the bed much too uncomfortable.”

“The peas,” Leyta said, “are to test whether a girl is right for you or not. It’s magic.”

Arien looked at her skeptically, unsure whether he believed in magic or not. “How are dried peas supposed to find me the right wife?”

“Magic,” Leyta said. “I can’t tell you exactly how it works. But it’s very important that you not tell them about the peas, or the magic won’t work.”

“Mother, I’m sixteen. I’m not a child. This whole story sounds ridiculous.”

“All right,” Leyta admitted. “It’s not magic, but I won’t be able to explain it to you until after it’s proven that it works, or doesn’t. But it is very important that you not tell any of your guests about it.”

Arien looked like he wanted to argue some more about it. Leyta said, “Trust me,” and he sighed, plainly remembering the number of times his mother had stood up for him or had come up with some scheme to help him.

“All right, Mother, but I’ll want that explanation afterwards.”

The Dowager Queen had her own theories. “You want to see if they can tell the peas are there?”

“To a certain extent,” Leyta said.

“You know that old wives’ tale about princesses being true and refined if they’re extremely sensitive is just a myth. I wasn’t a fragile flower who’d lose petals if you looked at her hard, and neither were you. And neither will Celia be.”

“I know that, Mother,” Leyta said – it was custom to address your mother-in-law as Mother, and Leyta’s own mother had died shortly after her wedding. The Dowager Queen had been the closest thing to a mother she’d had the entire time she was Queen. “I’m not testing for extreme skin sensitivity. Trust me.”

“It’d be hard for him to get an heir on a princess that fragile, don’t you think?” The Dowager chortled.

Leyta sighed. “No need to be crude about it. I have my reasons, and I’ll explain them to you, eventually. Let’s see if it works, first.”

***

The first princess was from the west. She had long straight hair and delicate-looking eyes with folded lids that left them shaped like almonds, rather than the eggs that the people of this realm wore in their face. She had pale creamy skin with a golden undertone, and she was demure and very polite, her etiquette perfect. She sat with Arien for hours, smiling at him with a face that expressed great interest, as he explained to her the complexities of life in a beehive.

In the morning, Leyta asked her, “How did you sleep?”

“Oh, wonderfully,” the princess said. “The bed was perfect! So soft! Your hospitality is wonderful.” She bowed her head.

Leyta saw her and her entourage off. When she returned, she asked Arien, “What did you think of her?”

“She was nice,” Arien said. “She listened to me. I’ve only had a few friends who listened to me, and they all moved away.”

Privately, without Arien present, the Dowager asked, “So what’s your verdict?”

“Unless none of them pass the test, she’s a no.”

***

The second princess was from the land immediately to the north. Her skin was tree- brown but as smooth as a tranquil lake, her hair floating around her head in a soft, curly cloud. Arien talked to her about beetles. She made excuses of not feeling well about half an hour into the beetle discussion.

When Leyta asked her how she slept, she said, “Your rooms are very nice. And the food last night was excellent, I’m so sorry I had to cut the evening short. But I feel fully rejuvenated today.”

Arien said, “She seemed okay, but she kept looking around while I was talking to her, so much that I think she gave herself motion sickness. I think that’s why she got sick.”

Leyta said to the Dowager, “A definite no.”

***

The third princess was from the far south. She had beautiful straight golden hair, cut short and asymmetrically, where it was shorter in the back than front and where it was parted on one side rather than in the middle.

She complained about her soup being cold. She complained about her roast beef being too bloody. She complained that the dessert course had small portions and also that it was too sweet. She screamed at servants for not bringing her wet towels for wiping her hands quickly enough and for refilling her wine glass too quickly. She insisted on talking to the seneschal about the servants who had served her, demanding that they be banished from the castle for incompetence. When Arien tried to talk to her, her demeanor was sweet, but every time he tried to talk to her about something he liked, she insisted that he show her another part of the castle. She made plans for room redecoration as if she had already become Arien’s queen.

In the morning, she was sickly sweet with Leyta, saying it was only a minor thing, really, but surely more competent servants could be found to make the bed? It was extremely lumpy. Leyta found out that she’d woken the chambermaids at 1 in the morning to demand an additional five featherbeds piled on top of hers.

Arien didn’t look at his mother. “Um… I don’t want to be impolite, but… I didn’t like her very much.”

The Dowager Queen said, “Please don’t tell me you’re considering that young harridan just because she could tell there were peas in the bed.”

“Oh, no. Not even for a moment,” said Leyta, and drew her quill through the name “Princess Carinna” on the list.

***

The fourth princess was actually the daughter of a powerful merchant, not an actual princess at all. She had deeply tanned skin and thick black hair, and beautiful dark eyes. She and Arien talked for hours about tax policy and accounting techniques, and she seemed genuinely interested.

She said the bed had been wonderful, and there was nothing wrong with it. Arien liked her. But Queen Leyta marked her as a provisional choice, the first on the list if no one passed her test.

***

And so it went with princess after princess. Most of them showed at least some slight sign of impatience when Arien monopolized the conversation, but none of them admitted to it, and few even tried to change the topic. No others were as rude as Carinna. No others admitted to detecting the peas, either. Leyta was on the verge of contacting the merchant to make an offer for his daughter to wed Arien. And then Princess Inaya arrived.

Princess Inaya was from further north than the second princess had been, her skin darker and her hair in braids that lay directly against her head, with ribbons and beads woven into them at the bottom. She didn’t look Leyta in the eye – or anyone else, really, keeping her head bowed demurely. She picked at her food, more or less eating only the potatoes, and she barely spoke… until she met with Arien.

He offered, diffidently, to show her the garden, and she accepted. He started to point out interesting bugs that he saw in the garden… and she began to point out interesting rocks. They soon began an animated conversation that sounded to Leyta more like two separate threads, where Arien would say a sentence or two about insects, then yield to Inaya, who would say a sentence or two about rocks. Sometimes they had a genuine back-and-forth when they talked about the habitats of pillbugs, who lived under rocks, or other areas where rocks and insects somehow intersected. Arien showed Inaya the notebook where he drew bugs and made his observations, and Inaya seemed to be thrilled with his artistic skill. She showed him her own notebook, with no art at all, where she wrote down the properties of rocks she had discovered and outlined the tests she did on stones to see what they were made of. Arien was fascinated with the efforts she’d gone to and how thoroughly she’d documented her findings; he’d never thought of doing anything to research the insects aside from looking them up in his tutor’s books.

At no point did she ever look Arien in the eye. At no point did he seem to care. He relaxed enough with Inaya to flap his hands when he grew excited; Inaya had a chain of polished stones that, instead of wearing around her neck, she tossed in the air as she paced.

In the morning, when Leyta asked Inaya how she slept, she squirmed.

“I, um. The bed was mostly very nice. Very good linens, nice soft down. But, uh. It felt like maybe there were… tiny pebbles in there somewhere? I’m not sure, I didn’t want to be rude and strip down the bed to look, but, uh. It was kind of uncomfortable.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry to hear that,” Leyta said.

She made arrangements to ask Arien his opinion before Inaya’s entourage left, this time. He spoke very simply. “I love her. Pick her, she’s the one.”

“I thought you would say that,” Leyta said, and she finished drafting the offer to Inaya’s parents, and signed it. “Take this to her lady-in-waiting before they leave, to give to Inaya’s parents.”

“I can’t!” Arien said, looking all around. “I can’t be the one to do it because I have to give her a parting gift if I see her and I don’t have any nice rocks!”

So Leyta gave him a bracelet with a large inset opal, and smaller jades all around it. “Take this to her and tell her which kinds of stones are in it, and tell her she can wear it as a bracelet if she wants, or take it apart for the stones, whichever she prefers.”

Later she heard that Inaya collapsed on the ground crying when he made the offer, but that her lady-in-waiting reassured Arien that this wasn’t abnormal – that she did this whenever her emotions were too strong to control, even if they were happy emotions. Inaya confirmed that she was crying from relief and joy, because she had always thought that no man would ever want to marry her and if one did, he would hate her rocks and want her to do normal womanly things like embroidery or something, which she wasn’t good at in the slightest because her coordination was bad and she was always poking the needle into the wrong place, and she had never imagined that she would ever find a man who understood her and didn’t demand that she look in his eyes and liked to listen to her talk about what she loved. Then Arien asked her very gravely if she liked hugs, because most of the time he didn’t like hugs, especially when they were a surprise, but if she would like a hug he really wanted to give her one. They hugged, and declared mutual love (“as far as I can define the feeling of love, anyway,” Inaya said, “because I don’t think I’ve ever been in love before, so how can I know for sure that that’s what this is?” Arien had agreed with her, but said “I think that even if what we’re feeling isn’t the same kind of thing as other people feel when they’re in love, it’s close enough that we can use the same word, because who wants to have to make up a new word?” And then they spent several minutes amusing each other to the point of hysterical laughter in making up new words that sounded ridiculous, sometimes repeating them to each other ten or a dozen times.) When Inaya finally had to leave, Arien cried.

Leyta wasn’t there for any of that, but her spies were everywhere in the castle.

***

When the Dowager demanded that she explain her test, Leyta summoned Arien, who had washed his face so it looked more as if he had had a terrible runny nose and sneezes than that he’d been crying.

“You asked me about what it would prove, to put peas in the bed,” Leyta said, “and I was looking for two things, but one was more important than the other.”

“What were you looking for?” Arien asked.

“Arien… you know that you’re a special young man, and different in some ways than other people your age. I’ve consulted with many scholars. Children like you are often strangely sensitive to things that other people don’t notice… often to the point where it’s unpleasant. Such as your feelings about onions.”

He shuddered. “Please do not remind me of the existence of those devil vegetables.”

Leyta laughed. The Dowager scowled. Leyta knew she preferred that a king, or a crown prince who’d just been betrothed, have a serious demeanor. She also knew that Arien would be who he was, no matter what anyone asked him to be.

“So I thought, the peas might be noticeable to some of the girls, but they would be especially notable to a girl who was like Arien. More importantly, if a girl noticed it but claimed she didn’t… Arien, I know you are often taken off guard by lies, and you’re a very honest man yourself. I know you would prefer a wife who will tell you when something makes her unhappy, rather than her trying to guess how you feel about it and then telling you what she thinks you want to hear.”

Arien nodded. “Nobody can see inside someone else’s mind, so why would anyone even do that?”

“I wanted a girl who would be honest about something she found unpleasant, even if she had to offend her host to admit it. But, obviously, kindness and compassion and a lack of malice about it were necessary as well… we don’t want a Carinna anywhere near the rulership of the kingdom.”

“You can say that again,” Arien said. Leyta suspected he was setting her up so she could tell a joke.

“But I won’t, because I know you heard it the first time,” she said, smiling.

The Dowager frowned. “So you picked a girl who has the same kinds of problems as Arien? Was that wise? The kingdom may need rulers who understand the idea of telling lies when they must, who can be charming and adept with politics. I thought you’d pick a girl who would cover Arien’s weaknesses, not one with the same issues.”

“Your son understood me,” Leyta said simply. “It was an arranged marriage, but we quickly grew to love each other, because we respected and we understood each other. I don’t want the kingdom to have a queen who resents her husband because she thinks he’s strange… who may play politics behind the scenes to have him killed so she can take power. Or who takes lovers, so we don’t know if the royal blood is even in the heirs. It’s more important to me that Arien’s wife respects him and understands him, and that he understands and respects her, than to have rulers who can detect all the subterranean undercurrents of a conversation. That’s what spymasters are for… and Dowager mothers and grandmothers, and perhaps even younger sisters.”

“Mother,” Arien said, “thank you. I know the people think I’m strange, and maybe I am, but you’ve always watched out for me. I didn’t even know I needed to find a wife who wouldn’t lie to protect my feelings until you pointed it out, and now it’s obvious.” He looked at the Dowager. “And Grandmother, Inaya does complement me. I understand mathematics, and finance, and things like that. She was trained by her parents to understand logistics, so she could run the castle, but she went deeper with it; she understands things about what kind of weather will do things to the crops and what will happen to the farmers when that occurs, things I never even thought about asking. Together I think she and I can make our country one of the most prosperous and happy nations in the world.”

***

And so it came to be. Prince Arien and Princess Inaya were wed in a lovely ceremony that they immediately fled to go on their honeymoon as soon as the marriage vows were taken. They understood the economics of the nation, and other nations, as few kings and queens ever did, and when they needed someone to tell them that someone else was lying, they had the Dowager Leyta and Princess Celia. The country prospered as it never had before, with no beggars on the streets of the cities, because the King and Queen gave homes to those who had none, and living expenses to those too sick or weak or lacking in some ability so that they couldn’t work.

It would be a lie to say they lived happily ever after, because no human can be happy all the time, and they had arguments and problems in their relationship from time to time. But even Arien the Honest and his Queen would agree that we can say they lived mostly happily for the rest of their lives.