#take an extra minute or so to give your sources to people who may genuinely want to be educated on the issue

[theamazingannie]

Obsessed with people who, when asked for a source after providing an alternate claim somewhere, just say “google is free :)” like imagine if we did that on our school papers. Write a whole ass essay and then under works cited just write “google is free :)”

[sugamamacustard]

Feed Me

Pairing: Alpha! Keiji Akaashi X Omega! Reader, Alpha! Wakatoshi Ushijima x Omega! Reader, Alpha! Rintaro Suna x Omega! Reader

Genre: Fluff

Request: Ooooo what about when Alphas 🐘 ( maybe akaashi, ushijima, rin and kuroo) find out that their omega has not been eating enough like (their only eating little things like granola bars or fruit) so their upset that they had to find out through someone else and they scold them for that but then their told that they have gain some weight and that gets them even more upset because they think their perfect etc.

Summary: Some times, people do things because it’s what they think is best. You don’t tell your alpha about some weight gain you’ve noticed, and try taking care of it yourself because of this.

Author’s Note: Hey, you. Yeah you. The beautiful person reading this? You are perfect. You are worth it. Your feelings are valid and you shouldn’t feel bad about having them. You are so amazing, and even if I don’t know you, I am so proud of you. You are so strong for making it so far. Keep going. Never change. :) Also your nice comments? Literally my dose of serotonin

did I mention my OC one or twice? Yes. Am I sorry? No. Also, idk if anyone is curious, but Yuka doesn't actually go to Shiritorizawa but whatever.

Requests: Closed!

Buy me a coffee?

Trigger Warning: Mentions of (Semi?) Starvation.

Keiji Akaashi

➵Now, Keiji is pretty on top of omega and significant other care.

➵ Like, weirdly so. It's honestly kind of creepy?

➵ In an endearing way.

➵ He always says 'Bokuto-Kun prepared me in a way.'

➵ Honestly, he loves doing this for you too!

➵He loves caring for you so much.

➵ Like I firmly believe Akaashi's love language is acts of service.

➵ So things like bringing you food, leaving sweet notes in your locker, helping you with your homework.

➵ He lives for doing these things.

➵ Especially feeding you snacks and things.

➵ It made his inner alpha purr because that meant he was caring for you. Providing for you.

➵ Being the very thing that made him worthy of an alpha.

➵ Prove that he could continue being the alpha you needed and wanted.

➵ Unfortunately, there were downsides.

➵ Your hips had the beginnings of small love handles, a little more chub on you tummy, thighs a little squishier.

➵ Let's not lie, Keiji absolutely adored this, by the way.

➵ I also think one of his biggest kinks is praise

➵ He makes sure you know how loved and how perfect you are.

➵ It's sometimes hard to believe him though.

___

"Y/N?"

You hummed an acknowledgment at Keiji's call, typing the final words to your essay before turning to look at your beautiful alpha- Sometimes you questioned how you hooked him. His gorgeous emerald eyes shining with love and adoration.

"I'm gonna go run and pick up some supper, what would you like beloved?" He came up to squeeze and massage your shoulders, leaning down as he pressed a small peck to your temple, your purr a sweet melody to his ears.

You swallowed behind your purr, trying to hide the small panic in your eyes. Your mind instantly flashed to your reflection this morning, how you pinched your hips with a frown. You already had been slowing down on the snacks, and fast food made you shiver.

"I-I'm okay for now, Keiji. Thank you though." You smiled, nonetheless, holding Keiji's cheek in your hand. He quirked a brow, frowning slightly before nodding lowly. Another peck was pressed to your cheek before he left, ordering your favorite from the diner he took you to for your first date.

-

"Beloved, I'm back." Keiji called, once more tearing you away from your essay; you were always thankful for the distraction though. He set down the take out bag, taking out the top box and handing it to you before shrugging off his jacket.

"Keiji? I said I was okay-"

"I didn't believe you. Now come on, you need to take a break and I'm touch starved." The raven didn't even look behind at you before pulling out his own box, dragging your rolley-chair to the bed. He pulled his sweater over his head, handing that to you as well before giving you a sweet peck.

His eyes locked with yours. Your breath hitched. So many silent words swam in his eyes, asking you, demanding you, to tell you what was wrong.

"I just- I've gained a little weight lately and-"

"And? My love, you are just as gorgeous as the day I met you. Nothing is wrong with a little weight, even if I think you're foolish to think you've gained weight. Never think otherwise. Even if you do, let me know, my job as your alpha and boyfriend is to make sure you feel as good as possible no matter what."

He slipped the sweater over your head, rehanding you your meal that he took from you momentarily, running a hand through your hair.

"Your my beautiful omega. Nothing should keep you from your happiness."

Wakatoshi Ushijima

➵Unlike Akaashi, Wakatoshi is little more...Hesitant (In a way) when it comes to omegan care.

➵ He never really learned how to? Ya know?

➵ Both his parents were alphas, and he was never around omegas consistently enough to learn.

➵and it's not like you were a volleyball that he could use the same techniques to up-keep.

➵ He also couldn't ask his team.

➵ Well, he could, but only one other person on his team had an omega. (It was Satori and his advice, though helpful, could only go so far.)

➵ He was doing good though, especially with you holding his hand through the entire thing.

➵ The first time he noticed something was up was when you didn't show up to lunch-- texting him a picture of you in the library, tongue poking out as you held up a peace sign to assure him you were okay.

➵ When he brought it up to Satori, who had his own omega (A small, but fiery brunette named Yuka) leaning on his side as she played some sort of phone game on his phone (Mama's slusheria? He thinks?) .

➵He explained he didn't know what was going on with you while Satori listened with a hum before giving him a sad smile. "Sorry I can't help you further Ushi-waka, but as you can see-" He slid his unfinished lunch towards Yuka, who popped one of the Dango skewers into her mouth without looking up. "I'm not very familiar with the problem."

➵ He offered his help as much as he could nonetheless.

➵ He slowly began to pick up on smaller things, locking them in his steel trap.

➵ Like a good boy :)

➵ He put hours of research into omegas after this (not that he hadn't previously). Keeping strenuous notes beside him.

➵ They were colorful and highlighted :)

➵ And he followed the advice that 'Mommy Luna-boo' posted on the blog he found like a goddamn Mantra. ('Sometimes Omegas need a little more love! Their bodies, especially during high school years, will change a lot! They may feel a little down! As an alpha, make sure you remind them how beautiful they are!')

➵She was mother Theresa and he was her follower.

➵ Well after he followed you.

➵and after he made sure you were feeling better

___

"Omega?"

"Toshi."

Walking into your dorm room, Wakatoshi set down a small bag filled with goodies. He set it down on your bed as he sat down as well, watching you carefully.

When you gave him a small smile with a quirked brow, he took a deep breath, remembering everything Tendou had coached him through.

"Have you been eating enough lately?"

You sucked your tongue at the question, shuffling your shoulders. Truth be told you had been missing out on a few lunches after noting a few extra pounds you hadn't noticed earlier. You never meant to worry him, that was never your intention, but it seemed the world was working against you. You had no clue where to go from here. If you told him the truth that would do nothing but worry him, but lying was never good in any form of relationship.

Your hesitance to tell him was more than enough though, as his larger lands encased your own, holding them tightly.

"Why?" His tone wasn't accusatory nor was it angry in the slightest. Genuine curious if anything. If he could get to the bottom of the root of the problem, he could prevent it from happening in the future. Right?

"I- I just...Noticed a few extra pounds and-"

"That's it?"

You looked up to him with a tilted head, like a lost puppy. "What do you mean that's it?"

Pulling you closer, Wakatoshi effortlessly pulled you onto his lap, using one hand to dig through the bag beside him while the other wrapped around your hips. He pulled out a few of your favorite snacks laying them out in front of you.

"That's, in my opinion, a silly thing to worry about. If you feel that's a big problem, I can offer my services to you in any way you wish-- whether it be support or as help, it is my job to be there for you." He nuzzled your scent gland, voice rumbling against your shoulders.

You purred in response, leaning back onto your alpha.

Rintaro Suna

➵ Suna is a lot like Akaashi in the sense that he has incredible observational skills as an alpha.

➵ His eyes are like sniper scopes.

➵ The minute something is wrong, he's on it.

➵ Like he looks aloof but he's not.

➵ He had notes.

➵ So hiding something from him is not easy at all.

➵ But you two most likely ended up together because you gave him a run for his money.

➵ You made him work at being an alpha.

➵ And he loved you for that.

➵ It did come back to bite him in the ass though.

➵ The only reason he heard about this was because the betas at Inarizaki were loud mouths.

➵ Honestly he learned so much tea from them.

➵ Like this third year was sleeping with a first year because she planned on baby trapping him and-

➵ It was wild.

➵Though most times it was nothing more than a source of entertainment for you and him to laugh about.

➵This time the gossip was actually useful.

➵ He wasn't thrilled they were talking about you, but provided some very useful information.

➵ And he was set into action.

➵ typing a few things onto his phone he set out to find you.

___

"Rin, I said I'm not hungry-"

"I know and I'm making the executive decision to ignore you."

He squinted his eyes at the carefully written instructions in front of him, sending a silent thanks to Atsumu's mate Haruka. (;)) She had written a step by step instruction sheet to making Onigiri while also dropping off all the ingredients (Pre-prepped). The only reason she didn't make it was because Suna's alpha, no matter how much he trusted her, wouldn't have let it near you.

"Rintato-"

"Look, Y/N. I love you, you know that. You know a lot of things, you're my smart little omega. So you must also know this isn't good, right?" Sliding a plate of, albeit mediocre, onigiri towards you, Rintaro focused his gaze on you.

"You know this, eh?"

You swallowed before grabbing one of the triangles, nibbling on the top in an attempt to appease your alpha. His sharp gaze still focused on you, making you shiver as he rounded around the counter. He turned you around so you were facing him, his hands holding your hips.

"You know this."

You wilted under his expectant gaze, knowing what he wanted from you. "I know this."

He smirked, leaning to take bite from your snack, licking his lips as he did. "Good omega."

"Rintaro that's mine!"

[lovee-infected]

This idea just hit me like a train. How would twst boys react to WAP from Cardi B?? 😂😂😂

I'm trying to ignore the fact that I might've never discovered WAP without this request...🗿

Warning(s): What should I even tag as the warning idkk ckcjxjsjsjdjdjck- Mentions of WAP's lyrics, mentions of nsfw, Warning for Idia's part bc I think it went a bit too far-

Riddle Rosehearts

Heard of this song named WAP being trending between students -> Searched it up -> Riddle:... Riddle: *Turns off his phone*

Bans WAP from the whole Heartslabyul afterwards, and every student found listening to it will have to face Riddle's: "NOOOOOOO- NO WAP IN THIS HOUSEHOLD - GO TO HORNY JAIL OFF WITH YOUR HEADS YOU UNWORTHY CREATURES- "

Trey Clover

Searches: "What does WAP mean?" before wards and after reading the search results he decides that he doesn't really need to listen to the song itself anymore.

He just clears his browsing history and returns to baking cakes. Nothing has happened, he knows nothing.

Cater Diamond

He is the guy making those "Night raven college react to WAP!!" videos on magicam. His reaction videos get over 100k views and people from all over the Twisted Wonderland start following this dork for them.

Who cares about the WAP itself? As long as he can gain followers over these videos he doesn't care how the song is supposed to be.

But at last Riddle discovers his videos by finding other dorms' students laughing over them and forces him to take them down💀 Man, Riddle really did ruin his once-in-a-life time chance for becoming popular.

Ace Trappola and Deuce Spade

Riddle has banned WAP Heartslabyul so they're going to illegally listen to it. It was Ace's fault though, Deuce is innocent.

Ace searchs up the music video, Deuce just sees the thumbnail and tells Ace that he doesn't think that this is going to be a good idea but Ace cuts him off by asking him not to be such a chicken-

Though they had to stop because Deuce was all shaky and embarrassed after just 20 seconds :"Stop this-STOP THIS- I CAN'T DO THIS- WE'RE STILL TOO YOUNG" and Ace had to stop to shut Deuce because they could've gotten caught at any second because of his unholy screams.

[a few minutes later...]

Deuce: It was saying DOORS in this house

Ace: Bruh what the- we both know it was saying Wh*res.

Deuce: Y-you dirty minded bastard!! It was clearly saying doors in this house!

Ace: Why the hell would they say doors in this house!??? It was wh*res!

Deuce: Doors!

Ace: WH*RES

Deuce: DOORS

Ace: WH*RES

Deuce: DOOOOORRRSSSSSSSSS

Leona Kingscholar

See he might be a jerk but he hasn't yet gotten to the level of appreciating this way of presenting women in songs-

He's just going to pretend that WAP doesn't exist,but most of the Savanaclaw on the other hand are going wild because with WAP, now he can't even take a peaceful nap without WAP being looped in his brain.

Ruggie Bucchi

WAP isn't beyond his power, he's handled stronger songs.✨ He'd regularly rap WAP in public when he's feeling like it.

Now he goes around to recommend WAP to naïve students and taint their virginity by making them listen to WAP without knowing what it is-

Jack Howl

Catches Ace and Deuce listening to WAP and ends up listening to it because of them. He doesn't knpw what to say...

He isn't mad, just disappointed. Disappointed parent noises. Out of all these students, why should he best buddies which these two?

Time to drag Ace and Deuce to a corner and give them a long speech on why young men their age need to be focusing on mastering skills and achieving success through these golden years instead of violating rules and tainting their pure minds.

"Trappola-kun, Spade-kun, you've greatly disappointed me. You need to be more mindful of your actions as fellow freshmen of night raven college. Is this how the future's great magicians are going to be? How do you think your parents would feel about this new habit of yours? Have you thought of how despicable women are being presented through such songs? Are you going to support such a taboo message toward ladies?"

And Ace and Deuce end up having to listen to him and think of their bad actions for the rest of the day...

Azul Ashengrotto

[Before listening to WAP]: He hears of this WAP song being super trending between students. What might it secret be? What kind of magic would make a simple song so hecking popular? He has to find out.

Azul thinks that by learning WAP's ways, he might be able to produce songs that are even better for mostrolounge and even start his very own music company! But before that he needs to listen to wap itself...

[After listening to WAP]: ...He discovers what kind of magic is making it so popular, but decides that it'd be better for him take a step back from the world of music for now. Yes, he's traumatized

Floyd Leech

"Hey hey koooeeebiii chaaannnn have you seen my new dance~?" ah yes, he's got the WAP dance and he's proud of it. These are the time when he's genuinely thankful for getting to have human legs.

But the WAP dance isn't his only target, he realizes that Jamil doesn't seem to want Kalim to know anything about WAP, but thankfully, Floyd is going to be kind enough to bless the young Kalim with his wealthy knowledge on WAP. ✨

Jade Leech

"My...my...that was savage," Jade is amazed, it's quite wonderful how these fragile creatures can go from Micheal Jackson's smooth criminal to WAP in a matter of years.

He's still having trouble keeping up with latest human trends and popular songs but, he's slowly liking humans a lot more than before. These creatures have already reached the level to make put p*rn in music, impressive.

Kalim Al Asim

He hears students whispering about an epic song named WAP during the classes, and of course he'd be intrigued!

He looks up the song but Jamil has already blocked his access to any sources that he might find WAP in, yet Floyd was kind enough to lend Kalim his phone to let him listen to this masterpiece. Later on, Floyd tells him about the WAP dance and bam, Kalim is addicted.

"Everyone watch me! I've got the WAP!"

Poor Jamil doesn't know which is worse, having Kalim signing it loudly in the dorm or watching him showing off his skills in that WAP dance in public. It's time for Jamil to go on a long, long trip and never come back until Kalim graduates from this school.

Jamil Viper

Listens to WAP once, is going to spend the rest of his life pretending that he has never heard or watched it. The most ironic part about it is how he watches the music video instead of just listening to the song and...the snakes. Good lord the snakes- He isn't sure if he likes snakes anymore.

The snakes part seriously traumatizes him but not like Kalim does when he asks Jamil to learn him the WAP dance. And heck no Jamil isn't going to learn him how to dance like a wh*re. At this point, he decides to deny WAP's whole existence.

Kalim: At least tell me what a WAP is!

Jamil:

Jamil: Worship and prayer.

Vil Schoenheit

Hasn't listened to WAP and refuses to do so. He's got standards.

Rook Hunt

"Bravo!!! These Mademoiselles have taken the art of music to a whole nother level! Beaute! 100 points! 💯" (...what else did you expect him to say?)

Just as always, no one can really tell if Rook really liked it or not but from the way he acts he seems to be... intrigued. Apparently WAP starts to get too famous in school and Rook would always be the first one to find out if a student is secretly listening to WAP in public, so he doesn't mind popping up and reminding the students not to listen to such a potentially stimulating song so carelessly: "Monsieur (x), it's adorable to see you appreciating such a glorious piece of art in this lovely day, but I don't think that all of these students staring at us right now are yet prepared for such a beauty,"

Epel Felmier

He just asked Ace for some music that'll make him sound more badass and Ace gave him the WAP:

Epel listening to WAP be like:😳😶😨😕😭

His face is redder than a tomato after the first 30 seconds of WAP, but Ace tells him that he'd be the bravest human being ever if he takes the urge to listen to this in front of teachers.

Tries to dance to WAP and make a video with it to upload on magicam, but Vil catches him in the middle of process.💀💀💀 The video turned out pretty good though. It looks just like a mother (Ehm- Vil) getting into her child's room (Epel-) and finding them doing some crazy shit.

Idia Shroud

He's the silent and seemingly shy dude who's listening to WAP in the highest volume under those head phones during classes.

Divus Crewel: CaF2(s) + Br2(ℓ) → CaBr2(s) + F2(g)...

Inside Idia's headphones: " ~ Wh*res in this house~ there some wh*res in this house~ there some wh*res in this house~ there some wh*res in this house~"

Bonus: He once forgets to connect his headphones to his tablet before playing WAP:

[Wap is being played at max volume inside Trein's class]

Idia: *Thinks that the sound is coming from his head phones*

The classroom: "Beat it up, n*gga, catch a charge

Extra large and extra hard

Put this p**sy right in your face

Swipe your nose like a credit card"

Trein: 😳

Students: 😳😳😳😳😳😳😳😳😳😳😳😳😳😳😳😳😳😳😳😳😳😳😳😳😳😳😳😳😳😳😳😳😳😳

Crowley about to jump down: 🤭

Idia still not realizing what the hell is going on: 'Lucy lucy baby~ hihihi- wait- why they all staring at me now...? Did they hear me internally flirt with Lucius?'

No need to say what happened to Idia after this...

Ortho Shroud

No WAP for him. You may find him reacting to "If you're happy and you know it clap your hands" if you're interested.🗿

Malleus Draconia

Thank goodness he just finds the censored version of WAP... Listens to the whole song, but doesn't understand most of the lyrics. The "Put this cookie right in your face" part confuses him the most, he doesn't get it. Why would you put a cookie in your face? Is this something humans usually to do with their desserts? Like, would they put ice cream in their faces too?

Virgin dragon keeps on asking people, including Lilia, to tell him what it means to put a cookie in one's face, yet no one seems to give him any proper answers ):

Perhaps human music just isn't his thing, he's getting back to sad violin noises which he listens to when he isn't invited.

Lilia Vanrouge

WAP go brrrrrrr. Our sassy grandpa is legit in love with this piece of gold and all of the humans for achieving such a glory. The beat is superb and the lyrics are: Delicious, motivational and creatively written.

Even better, WAP has an unofficial but smexy dance too. Old man Lilia is never too old for performing a sexy physically challenging dance.

You can now hear savage rock sounds combined with WAP playing in the background coming from his room when he's vibing in the afternoon.

(I can totally see him wearing a neko maiden costume while dancing to WAP and you can't tell me otherwise)

Silver

Finds WAP in papa Lilia's playlist...

Silver:

Silver:

Sebek Zigvolt

Sweet mother of love Sebek feels like listening to WAP has taken his virginity away-

He is a good boy, no, he once was a good boy. He's no longer the worthy man he used to be now that this unholy song has tainted his soul.

Legit feels guilty and and sinful after WAP, so you can find him praying for forgiveness to that Malleus portrait in his room every night.

"Oh young master forgive my thoughtless deeds, I beg for your mercy upon me now that I've sinned..."

Dire Crowley

Not saying that a drag Queen Crowley dancing to WAP would be a thing, but a drag Queen Crowley dancing to WAP would be a thing- Everyone bow down to the Headmaster, the most gracious of them all 😩😩😩👌🏻

Please, don't blame him. Birby is under too much of pressure after the very recent overblot cases and he needs a way to let go of the stress😔😔😔

Sam

Is illegally selling copies of the WAP because most of the dorms had blocked access to this song for the students...

"Helloooooo little demons I've got the WAP! In stuck now-"

[after-witch]

Title: Oh Honey Honey ('Oh Sugar Sugar' Part 2) (Yandere L Lawliet x Reader)

Title: Oh Honey Honey ('Oh Sugar Sugar' Part 2) (Yandere L Lawliet x Reader)

Synopsis: The newest regular to frequent your little pastry shop is a little unusual, but his appreciation of your craft is a welcome distraction from the terrifying suspicion that you may have a stalker.

notes: yandere, stalker behavior

You waved cheerfully at a little boy through the glass window of your store, as his grandfather gently urged him along the street; he was maybe 2 or 3, and had practically shrieked in joy when his grandfather bought him the biggest, cutest looking cupcake you'd had in the display that morning.

With the store empty for the moment, you turned back to your daily specialty case and decided to give it a quick cleaning. A regular, the older gentlemen who'd recently revealed that all the treats were actually for an associate, was due to arrive soon, and he typically bought up most of your special case. You leaned over the front counter, grabbed a rag and a bottle of cleaning solution, and gave the glass a quick spritz. You were humming to yourself when you heard the door bells jingling.

You turned, smile ready, expecting the older gentlemen--and almost flinched in surprise. It was not your regular, but someone new. He had lanky dark hair and wore an unassuming, casual outfit consisting of a white shirt and jeans. 

You swiftly stepped behind the register. “Can I help you today, sir?” 

"Yes, in fact," the man said. "I'm here to give my compliments in person." 

Confusion must have registered on your face, for he continued. "I normally have an associate buy my pastries for me. But I wanted to see your shop for myself, so..."

"Oh!" 

You hadn't meant to say it out loud, but you couldn't help it; nor could you help the more genuine smile that you gave the man who'd bought hundreds of dollars worth of pastries in such a short time period. Baking was your passion--but it was your business, too, and you couldn't help but truly appreciate people who supported that business. "I'm so glad to finally meet you! Thank you for all your business."

You held out your hand jovially, and the man came forward to accept it with a low, firm and slightly awkward handshake. When he pulled away, he glanced at his hand for a moment, before returning his gaze back to you. You couldn't help but hope he was getting enough sleep.

"I should be thanking you," he said. "For all the pastries, I mean."

At that, you beamed. "Well! Let me show you what's in our special case today..."

**

You had a stalker. Well, maybe you had a stalker. You weren't quite sure. All you knew for sure was that something was... off, lately. At first, you attributed it to getting less sleep than normal. With your bakery busier than ever, thanks to your new regular and even a nice business contract supply 2 dozen breakfast muffins every morning, you weren't getting as much sleep. 

So it would only be normal, you thought, to be a little on edge. A little testy. But less sleep didn't account for the odd, creeping feeling that you were being watched, especially at night. You could have swore you heard strange sounds, too... whirring or clicks. Cameras? You didn't know.

Nor did a lack of sleep account for some things that had gone missing from your apartment. A favorite nightgown you liked to sleep in; a favorite mug. the berry-red one you’d gotten two Christmases ago; even, as you discovered one morning, a lingerie set that you'd tried on once and then been too embarrassed to wear again. Still, it was expensive and the thought that someone had taken it--and why someone would take it--made you feel sick.

To say that you were not your usual chipper self for the rest of the morning was an understatement. You did your best to smile for the customers that came in, but even they must have sensed something was wrong; you even got extra tips from a regular, an elderly woman who tut-tutted you and told you that you should consider taking a weekend off.

The thought was tempting, but you knew that with running a small business came sacrifices--including the inability to just "take off." Still, you thought, you could take a little nap. A short one, 25 minutes, tops. You didn't often temporarily close up shop for breaks, but it was quiet and you weren't likely to get too many sales before the lunch rush, anyway.

As you were about to flip the sign, however, a figure suddenly walked up to the door. You jumped, then internally scolded yourself for being ridiculous--it was just your regular, or "Ahh, Mr. Regular?," as he'd awkwardly suggested you call him when you’d asked for his name. It was odd, but, the man was also downing an exceptional amount of sugar while buying up entire cases worth of your goods on the regular, so it wasn't your place to judge.

You bit your cheek to suppress a sigh of frustration and opened the door, stepping back so he could come in.

"Oh," he said, "are you closing?"

You smiled, or tried to smile, but it looked more like a grimace than anything resembling your typical sweet countenance. "No, no, I was just going to close up for a nap... I mean a break." You shook your head. You shouldn't bother customers with talks about naps, it probably made you sound lazy.

He quirked his head slightly, staring at you almost intensely. "Yes..." he said softly, almost murmuring. "I see those circles under your eyes... you haven't been sleeping well."

The personal turn of the conversation made you feel awkward. You looked away, embarrassed. You hated the idea of customers seeing you as anything other than the cheery pastry shop lady, a source of sugar and sweetness and delicious goodies. "Um," you said, "I guess not, I've just been a little, you know--out of it. You know how things go."

You laughed, mirthless and empty, and gestured towards the case. "So, anyway. I actually don't have many special pastries today, I've been a little busy." You mentally slapped yourself for giving excuses, even bland ones, though it wasn't like you were lying. 

You'd woken up early so you could head into work and finish off some really nice specialty items you'd baked last night, but rummaging around your drawers for something to wear led you to realize the lingerie was missing, and you'd spent 2 hours drifting between panic and disgust.

But rather than walk towards the case and pick out today's purchases, your regular simply stood in front of you. Head slightly quirked still, eyes expressive--concerned, you thought, he looks concerned about me. 

You couldn't deny that a customer worrying about you brought up conflicting emotions; frustration, because you didn't want to mess with your public persona; and a warm mixture of comfort and flattery. Someone liked your pastries enough to care about you.

"Is everything all right?" He said, finally. "Are you feeling sick? Or is something else keeping you up?"

You stared, feeling lost for words. You didn't really know him, and you hadn’t even told your friends about your potential stalker. But the weight of the past few weeks, the build-up of fear and disgust and stress, seemed to push you down until you found yourself sliding into one of your cafe chairs. He followed suit, pulling his knees up until he practically crouched on the seat.

You hesitated. Should you really be telling him any of this? “I… don’t want to bother you with any of my personal problems.”

“It’s not bothering me. I’m curious,” he said, lightly.

You sighed. Here goes, you thought. “I… I have a stalker?” Your hesitancy quickly morphed into an awkward blurting. “I mean, I think I do. I’m not sure. It’s just the past few weeks. I keep hearing these weird noises. And I feel like I’m being watched.” You bit your lip. “And someone took my underpants?”

Actually vocalizing the thought made you realize that it could just all be in your head. I mean, whirring noises? Missing lingerie? Maybe there were ants in the walls and you’d donated the set and forgot about it.

You half expected him to look embarrassed and give an excuse to leave. But instead, he looked thoughtfully at you. “Hmm. Have you called the police?”

It was you who felt embarrassed now. “No…” You shrugged. “I mean, what can they do, anyway? I don’t have any proof.”

He regarded you with a grim nod. “That’s true. They won’t act without evidence.” He gave a little huffy sigh of his own. “Well… if it were up to me, I’d do a stake out. See if anyone comes into your place at night. I could get some equipment, if you want.”

You smiled--subtle and soft, but a genuine smile. At least he didn’t think you were crazy. At least he validated your feelings. And he’d offered to help, even if you would never feel comfortable taking him up on that offer.

“I appreciate it,” you said. “But maybe I’m just being paranoid. I don’t want to drag you into all this…” You sat up straighter and decided to change the subject--you’d had enough worrying about a stalker for one day. “Say, do you want to see the kitchen? I need to finish up a cake I started last night, for the special case. Maybe you can pick out the fruit toppings?”

For a moment, your regular looked shocked.  He nodded, slowly. His expression never quite fully recovered its normal neutrality, and he stood up almost cautiously before following your lead into the open kitchen door accessed from behind the counter.

“Sorry for the mess,” you say lightly. “I didn’t have time to start dishes yet.” You gestured towards a countertop where a small cake stuffed with mascarpone and nestled within a layer of marzipan sat. There were little dollops of cream forming a circle on the top of the cake. “I’m going to top it with some fruits, why don’t you pick out which ones you like?” You covered your mouth, suddenly. “I mean--if you want to buy it, I shouldn’t have assumed.”

He cleared his throat and a small smile flickered across his lips. “Of course I’ll buy it. Your cakes are delicious.”

You laughed a little, showing your teeth, and took out some little jars of fresh fruits from a small fridge underneath the counter. As he looked over them, you turned and began tossing a few empty pots, pans and stirrers into the sink so that they could soak. You couldn’t help but hum a little, used to singing while you clean.

“Yes, I’ve decided,” he said suddenly. You turned around and saw him staring right at you.

“Decided?” You asked. Something about the way he was looking at you felt familiar. You thought about whirring.

“On strawberries,” he replied. He slowly held up the bowl of freshly cut, ripe red berries. “For my cake.”

**

L sat, crouched on the couch, staring at the video he’d taken of today’s events. You confided in him, which was delightful. You’d smiled at him, which was even better. Watching you put the glorious finishing touches on a scrumptious pastry in the kitchen was just... well. Icing on the cake.

He pressed a button on the controller and rewound the video to the moment where you'd laughed, light and airy and perfectly melodious to his ears. Your smile was genuine, then--not the constrained smile you'd given when he'd interrupted your nap plans; nor was it the sometimes plastic smile you wore when you were clearly exhausted with giving endlessly bright customer service.

Your real smile was something to be treasured. Especially, he thought to himself, because it will be a long while before he sees it again. You won’t be smiling much after he kidnaps you--after he acquires you, he corrected himself. 

According to his calculations, you won't start feeling more accepting of your situation for at least a few months, but it may be sooner (or later) depending on certain variables. You will be scared first, he knew--scared and maybe angry with him for deceiving you and trapping you. And that wouldn’t be very conducive to the smile and laughter he’d quickly become addicted to taking in.

He lifted up your favorite mug and took a sip of the warm coffee inside, relishing the last bits of your lipstick left on the rim, before rewinding the video to watch you again. Time will heal your wounds--but in the mean time, he will be so very generous and patient with you.

[alpacaparkaseok]

Mine

4. Making friends 101

Genre: Yoongi x OC

Warnings: none

Word Count: 3.4k

“Have you decided what you’re going to wear to this thing?”

I nearly jump out of my skin as a wild Sebastian wanders into my room. I’m still a little on edge from the stalker a few days ago.

“What thing?” I ask, folding my clothes as I repack my suitcase. We’ll be heading out tomorrow morning bright and early for Hong Kong. It’s quite the trip from Paris, and I wish that we could have scheduled things out a bit better. We’ll be in Asia for the next three weeks before having to turn around and come back to Europe.

From there, we’ll finally head back to the states for the final stages of promotions and the premier. Nobody was too happy about the revised schedule, but neither did they dare pass up extra promotions in Asia thanks to a certain K-pop group.

“You know...this festival we’re invited to.” Sebastian makes himself comfortable on my bed, smirking at my agonizingly organized suitcase. “Don’t tell me you forgot.”

As if I could forget about that. “It’s my most reliable source of anxiety, what would I do without it?” I chuckle sarcastically as I struggle with a thick sweater that refuses to lay flat.

The film festival has been on my mind quite a lot since I first found out that we were invited to it. While now I know what really happened; that it was Kim Seokjin that invited me and not Min Yoongi, I still can’t help but feel a pang of fear every time it’s brought up.

Really, the topic of what I’m going to wear to what may be the most awkward meeting of my entire life is at the bottom of my long list of worries.

“I’ve been thinking about what I’m going to wear.”

I raise my eyebrows at my friend. This is the most he’s hung around me for the past week, and I welcome the promise of banter. Heaven knows I could let off a little steam.

“Oh? Do tell.”

Sebastian stretches like a cat on the bed and I giggle at the sight. His eyes light up when he looks at me, imagining what else he could do to make me laugh.

“Here’s what I’m thinking. People over there are...stylish. Like, they wear edgy cool clothes all the time. So I’ve got to represent, you know? I’m thinking of raiding Saint Laurent or something in preparation for this festival. It sounds like it’s a pretty big deal over there. There’s bound to be lot’s of people.”

It’s not very often Sebastian gets super into fashion, but when he does, it’s a guaranteed laugh for everyone involved.

“Saint Laurent? That’s your whole paycheck, buddy.”

“Hey! Don’t ‘buddy’ me, you little weirdo. If you’re nice to me maybe I’ll take you along.”

I roll my eyes at his offer, however tempting. “No thanks. I don’t want to look like I’m trying too hard, you know? Everyone is already expecting me to be tripping over my feet the second he walks in-”

“He? C’mon, Car. He’s not Voldemort, you can use his name.”

I flush when I realize that I’ve been purposefully avoiding speaking about Yoongi directly.

“Whatever. What I’m saying is that it’s already awkward enough. I don’t want to show up looking like a girl getting ready to go to her first prom.”

“Nonsense,” Sebastian hands me another sweater when I reach for it. “More like your second prom.”

He’s met with a sweater to the face.

“Shut up, you’re not even helping me with anything. Why are you in here?”

Sebastian makes a show of folding my sweater. “I’m in here to make sure you’re getting ready to leave tomorrow and that you aren’t passed out on the floor from anxiety or something.”

I wince from the unspoken words. Like before.

“Yeah, I’m ready. And I’m fine.”

He doesn’t look all that convinced, but lets it slide for now. “You know, things are only going to get more intense in Hong Kong. The closer we get to Seoul, the more intense things will become.”

“Not. Helping.”

🌙

I wish Sebastian didn’t have to be right all the time.

The second we get off the plane, it’s a madhouse. Like a literal madhouse. People are shoving, cameras flashing, and the questions are being yelled right into my ears. They’re mainly in English, a few in Cantonese, but there are quite a few in Korean as well. It’s easy enough for me to drown out the latter language, but the ones in English do their job well enough.

“Cara! Cara! Have you been in contact with Suga?”

“Are the two of you attending the festival together? What are you going to wear?”

“Just give us a smile, Cara! Cara!”

We don’t have a lot of security, only about three guys. Soon enough they’re surrounding me, and I am being moved along within a sea of black clothing and mumbled orders. I’m just able to crane my neck to see Sebastian pushing through the mess of reporters, tugging Rhea along behind him. She catches my eye contact and waves me forward.

I fight against the pang of guilt that hits me as I realize that this is all because of me. Never did I think that things would get this bad. I never thought that I would have to be surrounded on all sides by bodyguards.  

By the time we’re shoved into the car waiting for us outside, I’m out of breath and so is everyone else.

Sebastian and Rhea share my car with me. I’m not sure whether I should try to sleep or apologize or resign-

“Cara?” Rhea’s hand grips mine as she gives me a reassuring squeeze. “You ok?”

I give her a shaky nod. “Y-yeah. I think I’m fine. We’re just going to the hotel, right?” I give out a sigh of relief when she confirms. Good. I could use a bed right around now. Especially because we spent a good chunk of our flight going over the promo schedule for Hong Kong and it looks like it’ll be pretty much nonstop starting tomorrow morning.

I hate to ask, but I also know that if there’s another stalker waiting for me in my rooms I won’t be able to sleep at all, no matter how tired I feel.

“Could we...check my room-”

“Already on it,” Rhea says with a sympathetic smile. “I sent a couple of people ahead of us to check all the rooms out. They should be done before we even get there, no worries.”

I relax a little, thanking her for her foresight. We fall into a groggy silence after a bit, the car ride from the airport to the hotel being about thirty minutes. Hong Kong is small, but it’s packed. With it comes traffic and bright shiny buildings that I can’t help but gawk at.

For living in the big city of Seoul for two years, I can’t help but be amazed at big cities like Hong Kong. They never get old.

I’m so distracted by those shiny buildings that I almost don’t notice my phone lighting up with an incoming call. Its vibrations finally pull me from my daze, and I smile as Bong-cha’s photo smiles up at me.

I took the photo for her on her first day of school after she changed programs. She’s grinning like an idiot in front of an intimidating building, holding up a big thumbs-up. Bong-cha has always hated the photo. She says she looks like a kindergartener on her first day of class. I agree, which is why it’s my contact photo for her. Purely just to piss her off.

“Wow the love of my life is calling me again? You must really miss me.”

Bong-cha’s laugh is either a beat too late or a touch too loud, but I notice it immediately. The knots in my stomach that were just beginning to untie themselves suddenly tighten up again.

“Yah, have you landed?”

Oh, right. I was supposed to text her when I landed. “Umm...yes. A little while ago. We’re in the car now.”

“I knew you’d forget to text me. You always do.”

“Hey, that’s not true! And you can’t blame me this time. The airport was a mess. I hardly had enough time to whip my phone out and text you when people were trying to claw their way down my throat.”

Again, she’s a second late in responding. “It was really bad, then? I was worried about that. You have bodyguards, right?”

“Yeah, we do. Just three, though. I felt bad, I had to ditch the rest of the crew to walk between the bodyguards. Everyone else had to fend for themselves.”

Now it’s silent for more than a few seconds, but something that sounds like hushed voices breaks it.

“That sounds hor-”

“Bong-cha, what’s going on over there? Are you at work or something?”

It’s as though I break some sort of spell, because suddenly a laugh tears through the silence, but I know it doesn’t belong to my friend.

Last I checked she doesn’t sound like a windshield-wiper when she laughs.

There’s something about it that has me furrowing my brows in a mixture of confusion and anger. Rhea and Sebastian share a look, not entirely sure what’s going on in my conversation but understanding my expression.

Bong-cha is in the middle of trying to explain. “Well, yeah, I’m at work. We got to talking about you traveling today and the boys wanted me to call you and check in on you and-”

“Am I on speaker phone?” Again, silence. I’m getting real sick of the silence. “Kim Bong-cha, I swear if you put me on speaker without even telling me, I’m going to catch the next flight to Seoul and-”

“Aaand there’s the Cara I know and love!” Bong-cha interrupts, confirming my fears. I’m definitely on speakerphone. “Please, we both know you’re too busy with work to come over here, even if it’s for a good cause like the one I’m sure you were about to explain. Also, the boys say hi.”

The boys. She says it so casually, as if we all went to high school together and are just checking in with each other to see how life has been.

“The boys? Like, all the boys? Also, you only called me because they told you to, and not because you were genuinely concerned for me? I see how it is, Bong-cha. That’s low.”

Before my friend can defend herself I hear a voice that sounds too much like a certain Kim Seokjin.

“You’re right, she is funny!”

I snort, fighting the blush on my cheeks. Am I really on the phone with BTS? What world is this?

“Is that Seokjin?” Even just saying his name makes me feel like a giddy middle schooler.

“Yeah,” Bong-cha responds.

“Well, you’d better watch out Seokjin. Once I’m done beating Bong-cha I’m coming after you.”

“M-me?” Jin has the sensibility to sound a little scared. “Why me?”

A dry laugh sounds, but I can’t tell who it belongs to. Few others have such a distinguishable laugh as Kim Seokjin.

“Bong-cha told me that it was you who started this whole mess with the film festival! Do you know how much anxiety you’ve caused me?!” My anger from this entire mess infuses me with more boldness than I could have mustered in this situation otherwise.

There’s some scuffling noises on the other side of the line, followed by a few grunts. Jin shouts in disdain.

“Yah! I was just trying to help! You’ll be thanking me!” A door slams, blocking out any further shouts from the man. I can’t hide the grin that splits across my face as I imagine what must be going on over there.

“Ok, he’s gone. I’ve banned them all from this room for the duration of this call.” Bong-cha reassures me. “I don’t have a lot of time, but I was calling to ask you something, actually. Don’t feel any pressure, but I think it may help relieve some stress on both sides-”

“What are you getting at, Bong-cha?”

She takes a deep breath. “Is it alright if I give Yoongi your number?”

My jaw falls open. I’m about to freak out when I realize that there’s a small chance that somebody may still overhear me on the phone. Barely composing myself, I respond to my friend, ignoring the obvious shake in my voice.

“Does he actually want it? Because it sounds like all of this has been thrown on him as much as it has me.”

“Er...yeah. He wants it. He was trying to ask about you today, but in that way where he doesn’t want it to look like he’s asking about you, you know? So I finally told him that he should just get your number so he quits bothering me about it. It’s been like this all week. So I figured I’d just give it to him, if you’re alright with it?”

In most situations, I know what to say. I’m usually pretty good at coming up with something to say in order to keep the conversation flowing. Maybe when Graham Norton dropped the bomb on me about Yoongi, I wasn’t the best at it but I at least inserted little comments here or there.

Now, I’m not really sure what to say anymore. It seems that the second I begin to relax and feel like I’m finally getting a handle on this, something happens.

It’s that same fear that I’ve had since I was a child kicking back in. It seems silly, in a time like this. I’m a completely different person since then, in a completely different environment. And yet, that fear that I’ve carried with me all my life comes bubbling back up to the surface.

“Bong-cha…” I struggle to keep a neutral expression as I’m aware that I’m not alone in the car. “I’m not very good at making friends.”

Any other person would be quick to jump in and reassure me. Any other friend would race to recall experiences that would prove my claim wrong.

I guess that’s why Bong-cha is my best friend. She doesn’t do any of those things, instead quietly listening and thinking before she responds.

“You know, Cara…” she begins in a sincere tone. “Maybe that’s not the point. Maybe you’re not meant to be amazing at making friends. But you’re really good at letting people be friends with you. Which, honestly, is a talent. A weird, obscure one, but a talent nonetheless.”

What’s meant to be a laugh comes out more as a sigh of relief. Bong-cha always knows what to say.

“I’m going to do some research on that talent, because I’ve never heard of it before.”

“So...are you alright if I give it to him? I think he wants to just apologize to you more than anything. I swear he won’t be weird with it.”

I chew on the inside of my cheek, mulling it over. Honestly, at this point, what do I have to lose?

“Yeah, go ahead.”

🌙

I’ve barely lugged my suitcase inside and collapsed on the bed when the first text comes through. I immediately jump up, senses on high alert. It would be a lie if I said that I haven’t been on edge just waiting for my phone to ding ever since I got off the phone with Bong-cha. Bracing myself for the bite of disappointment when it’s the “Young Rising” group chat, my heart nearly stops when I see it’s an unknown number. 

UNK: Is this Cara? 

UNK: This is Bong-cha’s friend, she gave me your number.

“Ah, he’s smart,” I note as I realize he didn’t give me his name just in case he mixed up the numbers. I quickly save his number in my phone, the action making me feel a little strange. 

ME: Yes, this is Cara. 

I overthink the four-letter message for way too long before I press send. I sound cold, but I don’t know what else to say. It doesn’t take long for three dots to appear on the screen. 

“Oh, no. He’s typing. What do I do if he’s typing?”

 I’m ashamed to admit that I consider chucking my phone out the window for more than thirty seconds. Only the ping of my phone stops me in my train of thought. 

MYG: Have you made it safely to your hotel?

I blink at his message. The fact that I really don’t know this man at all is hitting me like a ton of bricks. He seems kind though...from the twenty or so words he’s typed. That’s all you need to judge someone’s character, right?

ME: Just made it, actually. 

Pausing, I quickly type out a message before he can respond.

 ME: No need to worry

Well, if this isn’t the most dry conversation the earth has ever witnessed. I cringe when I see the three dots pop up again. He’s probably thinking the same thing and is looking for a quick way to end this entire conversation. 

MYG: Good, although I think I may need to worry. It sounds like the airport was out of hand today. 

ME: ...were you eavesdropping on my conversation with Bong-cha?

MYG: Speaker phone doesn’t count as eavesdropping.

ME: It does if the person doesn’t know she’s on speaker!

I have to wait nearly five minutes before he responds again, and the tell-tale ping of my phone has me rushing over to where I left my phone on my nightstand, leaving my toothbrush on the bathroom counter.

MYG: I’ve thought about it, and I think I need to apologize for eavesdropping on your conversation with Bong-cha earlier today.

 ME: That was easy.

MYG: I think I’ve made things difficult enough for you, don’t you think?

Huffing out a laugh, I nod in agreement. 

ME: You have.

When more than ten minutes pass without a reply, I convince myself to take a shower. Then I persuade myself to stand in the shower for more than three minutes, even though I’m itching to see if he’s replied yet.

Fifteen minutes later there’s still no reply. Cozying under the covers I stare at my phone, answering a text from Bong-cha asking if Yoongi has texted me yet.

Even though I’m a fan of the band, I can’t say that I’ve ever really gone out of my way to learn a lot about them. Beyond the music, I know very little.

At least, that’s the excuse I give myself as I watch video after video about Suga: the biggest baddest soft boy in the universe.

It’s nearly two in the morning before I force myself to put my phone down and get some rest. The thought that maybe my text came off more harsh than I intended it to has crossed my mind several times, but it’s too late now to try to take it back.

It’s nearly four in the morning when the sound of my phone vibrating drags me out of my slumber. Groggily, I reach for my phone, hissing as I hit my elbow on the nightstand.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I groan, squinting at my phone. “I swear, if it’s Bong-cha at this time of night…”

MYG: I’m sorry.

MYG: I’m trying to fix this, thank you for being so kind and patient. Things will get better.

MYG: You don’t have to come to the festival, just so you know. Let me know, and we can cover for you somehow. Make up an excuse. Don’t feel like you have to come, or even speak to me. I’ll understand.

MYG: Sorry for texting so late! I just realized what time it is. Go to sleep. Sorry if I woke you up.

MYG: Sorry.

I’m caught between feeling choked up about the apology and trying to even wrap my mind around the fact that Min Yoongi is up in the middle of the night typing out an apology text to some girl he’s never met.

“Who even are you? Who does this?”

Hardly trusting myself to write back a proper reply, I squint into the screen as I hesitantly type letter by letter. Writing in Korean at four in the morning is not one of my strong points.

ME: I think I’m more exhausted by the amount of times you just said sorry than with what time it is. Go to sleep, Yoongi.

It takes all of thirty seconds for a reply to come through.

MYG: 😅 I guess good morning, Cara.

ME: Good morning, Yoongi.

I fall asleep watching the three dots on my phone appear and disappear as Min Yoongi ponders what next to say in this unlikely forming friendship.

Previous - Next

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[shoichee]

Star-crossed

[Midorima x Reader]

[Hanahaki!au]

Word Count: 8840

Warning: attempted angst, death

Note: This is my first time writing angst, oh dear. Even after years of bawling over other people’s works, I still have no solid idea on how to create heart-wrenching writing. Here goes though.

»»—————　☼　—————««

“I’m really excited!”

“Ne, ne, I honestly can’t wait to bloom…”

“What kind of flowers would my body grow do you think?...”

You only drone out the incessant bustlings of chattering from your classmates as special health education class ended as you sat there patiently waiting for the next teacher to walk into class to start the next period.

Next is… ah, math…

You sigh, heaving out the bulky textbook out of your bag and drop it on the desk with a thump, making a few students flinch at the near proximity. You lay your elbow on the hardcover, allowing your thoughts to drift away as your fingers gently thrum. This teacher, you knew, was the type to start class unceremoniously late.

It was boring. Everyone already knew about the stage of blooming. It had been incanted incessantly to you by adults around you ever since grade school. Yet, Shūtōku high was one of the many high schools that still insisted in “teaching” the basic knowledge of what’s to come soon.

Maybe these classes don’t teach, but rather, serve as a reminder of the inevitable that all growing teenagers will face sooner or later: blooming.

Some people have already experienced it as soon as they graduated out of middle school; they were called the “early bloomers.” That was one of your closer friends.

So what’s it like? you once asked, turning to your new friend at the time. You said you bloomed…

And you recall her nodding her head fervently.

Yeah! she eagerly replied. While it may be painful at first, it went away after a few weeks for me… it’s not so different like getting a period, you know?... I heard it’s different for everyone, but for me, my heart thumped super loudly! And I get these tingly sensations!...

… It’s just like a sign that you’ve become totally mature!

A frantic clang from the doorway interrupts your train of thought as you eye the expectant teacher, completely out of breath as he tries to arrive on time but completely failing miserably.

Unlike in special health ed, most of the students groan at the thought of continuing the onslaught of derivative lessons. You don’t really care either way and promptly open your textbook to the appropriate page.

As class slowly ticks by, your mind wanders off from the subject of class again, drifting to the constant destination of your recent curiosity of bloomings.

You are what everyone calls a “late bloomer.”

You aren’t the only late bloomer, obviously, but it does make you quite anxious at the fact of potentially being the “last one” in your class, or perhaps out of the entire school.

No one wants to really hang out with a late bloomer; they were often stereotyped as “immature” or “abnormal.” After all, this was a normal stage of life, a sign of growing up out of childhood. No one wants to hang around with someone seen as a “kid.”

A soft cough pulls you from your daydreaming as you subtly glance at the desk to your left. It was a classmate of yours, as well as an acquaintance.

“Hey,” you whisper, trying to not bring attention to yourself. “... Are you okay?”

She gives a quiet clearing of her throat before she nods, hand still pressed against her lips. She then shakes her head side to side, her long hair swaying slightly with the motion.

“Ah, don’t worry about me getting sick,” you quietly reassure. “But you should really go to the nurse’s after. Have you tried tying your hair up? I heard doing so can help cool off and keep a clearer head…”

She cautiously drops her hand back to her desk before giving you a small, reassuring smile.

“Thank you, (l/n-san). I’ll be fine.”

“(l/n).”

“Yes!” You stand up from your desk the moment the teacher calls on you, relieved at the fact that he didn’t seem to notice your hushed conversation.

“Could you please come up to the board to solve this problem…?”

---------

Lunch time is always the time you come out of class to search for Takao. As you walk briskly in the hallways, you try to avoid staring at everyone’s floral tattoos located at the side of their necks, imprinted underneath the canopies of their jaws. Each individual’s flower mark showcased what their bodies grew during their stages of blooming.

And each plant was unique to the individual. They could represent their personality, their prospective future, what their future soulmate would be like… anything goes, and every student constantly gossips about what the other’s marks would exactly mean.

You, markless, walk faster, hoping that no one would spot you and flit their eyes to your blank neck… although everyone at school already knows those who have still yet to bloom.

You envy them.

“(y/n)-chan!!” Takao waves you over when you enter the cafeteria. “Over here!”

You briefly scan the tables before you spot him, begrudgingly noticing his pink hyacinth at the crook of his neck, even though you’re happy for him that he passed that stage of his life.

Pink hyacinths… they symbolized playfulness.

You would know; not only did special health classes painstakingly educate students since young for the anticipation of blooming, you took the extra effort of researching many more flowers on your own time, patiently abiding your time to have a striking plant engraved onto you one day.

As you carry your tray and slide into your seat, you finally notice a grumbling greenhead besides Takao.

“Shin-chan! So you do care about having a flower mark after all, eh?”

That’s right, huh. Midorima, too, was markless.

Just like you.

“Your assumptions are getting ridiculous, Takao.”

“Seriously? You expect me to believe that when your eyes always land on people’s necks when you talk to them—pfffft—” He breaks out into guffaws as he clutches his stomach helplessly, which cued Midorima into reaching for the point-guard in an attempt to strangle him.

Pink hyacinths are perfect for someone like Takao. You couldn’t help but let a smile slip from your lips.

“Whoaa!!” Takao peers over to you, ignoring his predicament of being restrained to death by Midorima. “(y/n)-chan! You should smile more!—ow!”

“Worry about yourself first,” he scowls, before tentatively letting him go with a defeated sigh. He opts to hold his lucky charm for the day (a terracotta pot).

“Shintarou-san,” you call out to him, after several minutes of comfortable silence as all three of you ate your lunches. “What do you think your flower would be?”

“Man proposes, God disposes. As long as I always provide everything to maximize my opportunities and follow the order of fate, I do not need to worry about such baseless things.”

You mildly snicker at his typical response. “Is that so, horoscope man.”

“Why waste time worrying about something that’s not in your hands?” He pushes up his glasses with his taped hand. “You should be focusing on what you can do as of now, nanodayo.” When he finishes, he looks up from his lunch to glance at you, noticing your widened eyes.

“Ah…” you stare at him at a loss for words, caught off guard at the fact that he sounded… almost concerned for you. “I’ll keep it in mind, Shintarou.”

“There’s no way that’s our Shin-chan!” Takao rushes to try to feel Midorima’s forehead. “That’s way too good of an advice to be you—”

“Shut up—get off of me—!”

As the two basketball players struggle in each other’s vice grips, they fail to notice the ruddy color having its own moment of blooming onto your cheeks.

---------

“... and what this means, class, is that having your first love is a monumental sign of blooming. That being said, having to experience love for the first time does not automatically guarantee blooming. This natural phenomena is still being studied by scientists around the world. What’s also interesting is that we humans are the only ones with this unique…”

More basic information? You yawn, covering your mouth in hopes no one notices, but as you look around you, your classmates are too engrossed in the lecture to even pay attention to anything else.

Of course they’d pay attention. It’s a special event that will happen to everyone at some point; even though you were sure they all already knew the information to heart, you knew they would take any opportunity to learn more about themselves in any way. You don’t blame them, however. You’re curious about your own body’s idiosyncrasies of not blooming yet.

“... Lies.” You snap your head to the source of the quiet remark to see your classmate on your left, arms crossed on the desk with a minimal scowl on her face.

Noticing your piercing stare, she turns to you before widening her eyes at realizing that she was heard. She abruptly turns her face to the front of the class, trying to pass off the act of suddenly paying attention to the teacher.

You turn your head to face the front as well but you still glance to your left from time to time.

“Are you feeling better?...” you hesitantly whisper.

Not expecting you to show concern, she jumps in her seat before eyeing you warily. As soon as she decides that you were merely concerned, she gives a polite nod and a smile.

“It was just a little flu I caught… Thank you for worrying about me. I’m just a sickly person but I thankfully recover very quickly.”

And with that, she ends the conversation with you to finally genuinely pay attention for the rest of class.

You try to do the same, but you feel knots of lead settling in your stomach.

… Lies?

What was that about?

---------

“(y/n)-chan! Wanna come and watch our practices today?”

You were stopped in the hallways by a grinning Takao, with a trailing Midorima not too far behind with a bundle of faux peacock feathers.

You’re not too sure if you should be concerned with a clinging Takao on your arm and attempting to kidnap you or a stoic Midorima displaying around a ridiculous souvenir.

“Huh? W-why?”

“You’re obviously free right now, obviously.”

“That doesn’t make sense—wah!”

Before you can put any further word in, Takao is dragging you to the gym, with an exasperated Midorima being figuratively pulled along with you two as well.

“Here we are, (y/n)-chan!” Takao ushers you beyond the gym doors and indicates the bleachers for you to sit and watch.

“You really think I’m going along with all of this, Kazu?”

“I know you better than anyone.”

“No you don’t,” you frown, turning away from him with a huff.

“Takao.”

Takao immediately gulps at the call of his name from Midorima and both you and him turn around to see a particularly hostile green-haired person.

“Sorry, sorry! Please don’t hit me!” And Takao races to the lockers in an attempt to escape from his fury.

Midorima relaxes his stance after he leaves and turns to you.

“Thanks, Shintarou.”

“I wasn’t doing it for you,” he says, adjusting his glasses. “He was just being more troublesome than usual.” But the way he clumsily handled his frames told a different story to you.

You laugh at him. “If you insist, Shintarou-san.”

“R-right…”

“Hey! Shin-chan!” Takao yells from the opposite side of the gym. Get over here! Captain is coming!”

At the captain being mentioned, Midorima straightens up before jogging over to warm up.

You suppose you can watch their practice this evening.

---------

You’ve never seen anyone handle a basketball like that.

What the hell? His range was damn near impossible.

You were thankful that you allowed Takao to drag you over to the gym to watch. Otherwise, you would’ve never learned about this side of Midorima.

Wait… Midorima?

No, you shake your head. It’s only because it was a lot more interesting than all of your classes, that’s all.

You repeat it to yourself like a mantra, yet every time your eyes land on Midorima’s shooting form, your mind goes blank.

You were absolutely captivated… not that you would ever admit it though.

---------

“... scientists are still doing social experiments on the blooming stage of humans. You may be wondering, if it’s been a part of societies for thousands of years, why are we studying it? Well, during old times, they were often explained using myths and folk stories…”

It really sucked that special health ed class was a mandatory requirement for all first-years. All of this was old news to you still.

“... new recent findings came out that answered the everlong question of whether the bloomings can actually be dangerous for humans, and how dangerous.”

Oh? That was new. But you suppose there was no way they’d tell little kids about the possibilities and risks with bloomings.

“Obviously, we know it can be fatal, just like pregnancies going awry and such. While we don’t know the exact mortality rate, researchers are trying to develop new medicines to curb away the potential amount of deaths associated with bloomings. But other scholars suggest not to drain precious resources into medicine development when they can use it for more pressing medical issues, and I know many of you believe this as well. Their take on this issue is that ‘blooming is something that should not be tampered with and the success of bloomings rely solely on the individual’s abilities and willpower to come of age since it’s unique to every person’...”

Unique… He was right. Even the signs and symptoms of a blooming vary greatly for everyone. The only thing everyone had in common was that their bodies grew plants. Even the way plants grow vary from person to person. That’s what they taught since the very beginning.

“... since blooming is unique to every individual, creating a standard medicine and procedure for all would be impossible, or at the very least inaccessible due to high expenses in accommodating medicine for every patient.”

Most of the students in the room nod in fervent agreement, and pretty soon, the room was filled with chattering at the new information they took in.

You glance to your classmate on your left again but you were surprised to see that her seat was empty.

Was she not here from the start?

You sigh and chide yourself for not noticing at the beginning of homeroom, but quickly dismiss the casual thought for more immediate problems like your upcoming exam for chemistry in a few periods.

Ah, oh well.

---------

“If you’re looking for Takao, forget it. He’s in detention for causing a disruption for one of the teachers last period.”

“Sh-shintarou?!” You whirl around to find Midorima alone with his bear plush. “You’re not at practice?”

“We practice tomorrow.”

“I see,” you say, not knowing how to continue the conversation from here.

“I guess I’ll be going home early then. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

As you try to walk past Midorima, he sidesteps quickly to block your pathway, and you walk right into him before stepping back out of embarrassment.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry—!”

“(y/n).” He averts his eyes while sliding up his glasses. “You’re walking home alone?”

Still in a state of flusters, you promptly nod your head as you stare down at your shoes.

“Come. We better get going before it gets too late. Cancers will have unlucky encounters after dusk.” Midorima jerks his head to the direction of the exit, motioning for you to follow before he turns on his heel and walks away.

“Sh-shintarou?”

“I-it’ll only be… troublesome if something were to happen.” He stops walking and looks back at you. “What are you waiting for? Hurry up.”

“R-right. Coming!”

---------

It wasn’t completely unexpected that the walk home would have an awkward atmosphere between the two of you. Usually, Takao would be the social “buffer” and the proxy between you two, but now that he was out of the picture, neither of you knew how to strike up a casual conversation. That was more of Takao’s specialty.

“... I’ve thought about what you said.” At his voice, you turn to look up at his contemplative face. You give him an inquisitive look to encourage him to continue his thought. “... Although I’m not so certain what kind of plant I would grow. Not even the Oha Asa could predict it.”

“Ah, I see…” You turn your face to face the front as you gaze at the sunset ahead. “Are you afraid of the uncertainty?” At your question, he falls silent, giving you the confirmation that he was, indeed, scared.

“Shintarou,” you murmur. “You’re not alone in feeling the uneasiness of blooming.”

“Wha—I never said anything about blooming, nanodayo—”

“Sure,” you interject. “Well, for me, I really hope I’d get a gorgeous flower, a flower so breathtaking that would make everyone stop in their tracks to admire the mark. I want to change those stares of pity and disdain into those of admiration and envy…” You can tell he’s hanging onto your every word despite the fact that he wasn’t facing you, his steps slowing down ever so slightly to be as close to you to hear what you had to say without deeming it suspicious.

“I envy Takao… a lot,” you sigh, and Midorima turns his head slightly to you at the mention of Takao’s name. “He already has a flower mark and he’s so put-together despite his cheerfulness… He’s really reliable.”

“I see.”

“... and the truth is, I’m really scared. I feel like I’m going to be the last person to ever get a mark. I wonder if there’s something wrong with me, with my body—”

He stops in his tracks.

“That’s a foolish line of thought.”

You turn to face him, ready to glare at him, but you stop when you make eye contact, startled at the intensity of his gaze. You swear you can see your figure reflected in his viridian irises. A few seconds of suffocating silence crawl by, and you break away eye contact, intimidated by his gaze and the possible implication of his words.

“Sorry about that.”

He says nothing in return.

The rest of the walk home became even more uncomfortable, with Midorima walking slightly ahead and you making a wordless effort to constantly match his stride.

You don’t know why, but seeing his taut back to you squeezes your heart ever so slightly, the mute badumps ever feeling like a constant dull sore.

“Shintarou…” you softly call out after you arrive at your house. The sun had left the horizon shortly before you arrived at your destination. “Thank you for walking me home, and… sorry, it looks like it’s past dusk now, but will you be able to get home safely?”

“Fool,” he huffs. “I have my lucky charm to compensate for my misfortune today.”

You smile at him, relieved at the thought that maybe that moment before was all just your overthinking.

“Of course, Shintarou.”

---------

It was hard looking at Midorima without losing your cool from that point on. It wasn’t like the two of you did anything out of the ordinary yesterday, excluding the fact that he volunteered to walk you home. But you knew he just cared for you in his own way, as a friend.

As a friend.

“(y/n)-chan!” Takao tries to pounce on you, pulling your cheeks apart. “What’s with the nasty frown on your face? Didn’t I tell you that you should smile more?”

“Shtop—pawling—Takow—!”

As he laughs at your stretched face from his pulling, you manage to pry his hands off of your cheeks and take refuge behind the sour-faced shooting guard. “Shintarou! Save me from Takao!”

“Takao, come here.” He gave a harsher punch to his head than usual, and Takao did not fail to comment on it.

“Sheesh, that hurt even more, Shin-chan? What did I do?—oh, ohhhhhhh.” His grimace lit up to an expression of realization and mischievousness. “I see.”

“Your antics are getting more and more preposterous. If you have that much energy, you should expend it during practice, nanodayo.”

“Right, right, Shin-chan!” He waves Midorima off before slinging his arm around your shoulder. “But (y/n)-chan, don’t think you're off the hook just yet!”

You can only sigh as he dramatically waggles his finger at you while Midorima clicks his tongue, opting to walk to his classroom instead.

“H-hey! Don’t leave me behind!”

And with that, the duo disappeared right before the warning bell rang.

---------

You sense an uncharacteristic aura of hostility directed at you right when you entered class, but you shake your head before plopping at your designated seat. As much as you try to mind your own business, the hostility you felt peaked even more. You glance around before your eyes fall on your classmate to your usual left.

She was silently seething, but particularly at you.

“Is… something the matter?” You shot her a worried look. “You were gone yesterday, right? Did your flu kick up again?”

“What’s with you?”

“Pardon?”

“Why do you care so much for me? I never asked for it.”

“Wh-what? I’m just worried? Did I say something wrong?”

“You are—”

“I am?”

And the bell rang with such convenient timing to interrupt the two of you.

“It’s nothing. Forget it.”

And class started without a further word from her, and as lectures progress, you peek over to her desk to see her never looking your way. The least you do, you decide, is to try to apologize and talk to her afterschool.

“... a revolutionary finding was published all over the news yesterday regarding bloomings. He proposed the most controversial proposition yet: bloomings neither affect the human body’s growth and maturity physiologically nor psychologically and that these ‘effects’ from blooming are merely all placebo. His conclusions have caused an uproar in the world of scholarship, but what I want for you students to do is to write an in-class paper about your reaction to these potential revelations…”

You sit up straight, and for the first time, you listen to his lessons with utmost attention. Your mind racing, you rush to grab a suitable pencil before you start to write your thoughts for the assignment. You peer over to your classmate to see her already writing furiously. You do the same.

She was the first student to screech the chair as she stood up, daintily holding the paper to bring it to the front desk.

All you could discern from her paper, even despite the neat writing, was:

I am ultimately relieved.

---------

“W-wait! Please!” You dash out of the classroom, trailing after your classmate who hightailed it out as soon as possible.

“Leave me alone already!” she heaves over her shoulder, willing her legs to run even faster.

“Your… homework! I have to give… work that you… missed!” And you had relatively no problem speeding up to match her pace.

“Can you just stop following me?! I can just get it from my teachers! What’s your deal?!”

“I want to apologize—!” But before you can finish your sentence, your classmate drops onto her knees, clasping her mouth in complete desperation. “H-hey! What’s wrong?!”

She wheezed into her palms before she got up and ran again before you could completely catch up to her.

She busted open the main doors and ran into the secluded areas of the school courtyard, hoping to lose your trail of her, but as soon as she turned from looking behind her shoulder to the front again, you managed to cut her way off.

“Your… homework…” you gasp for air, shakily handing her the papers that were clenched in your hand.

The next thing you register are splatters of blood on the sheets. And your classmate desperately holding her coughs in.

“Hey!...” You hold her frame, slowly dropping the two of you onto the ground in kneeling positions to try to ease the burden on her body, soiled papers already discarded to the side.

Cough. “Don’t—” Cough. “Fucking—” Cough. “Touch me…”

As she spoke, her hands loosen up their grip against her mouth, but as soon as she did, petals and buds cascaded from her lips. Which were all soaked in blood.

“I…” You dumbly look at the pile of flowers in front of her. You couldn’t even tell what type of flowers they were from all the blood. “You’re blooming?” You always thought she already did.

She slaps your hand, which was on her shoulder the entire time, before tucking her strands behind her ear to prevent them from being further drenched in crimson.

Her neck, being exposed for the first time, was blank.

“C-congratulations!” You say, holding both her shoulders this time with excitement. “You’re—!”

Slap.

The sound resonated through the area, which luckily was mostly empty. Your face pulsates with a stinging heat.

“I’m fucking dying!” She stands up shakily from her kneeling position. “How could you say such an awful thing—I’m dying, I’m fucking dying…”

You can only stare at her in shock from her being so volatile for the first time since you met her, or the fact that she said such a morbid thing.

“I don’t… I don’t understand—?”

“I’m sick!” she seethes, her throat struggling to choke out words. Tears run silently down her agonized face, diluting the thick blood smeared across her face.

“I’m so sorry…! I didn’t know your flu was this ba—”

“You’re the reason why I’m dying,” she hoarsely spat.

The silence was so palpable that even the labored breathing from her was unnaturally loud.

“What? Why me?”

“I…” she hesitates, before dropping to her knees, sobbing uncontrollably. “I’m so sorry… I didn’t mean to—it’s not your fault, I…

… I’m so scared.” Hiccup. “There isn’t any medicine to help me…”

You hand her a tissue from your bag to try to clean up the bloody mess off of her, but before you can dab the tissue to her face, she gingerly grabs your wrist.

“I… love Takao.”

What? You held your breath, anticipating to hear what she’d say next.

“But he rejected me not too long ago. I thought I could get over him and be done with blooming relatively quickly but…” She pointedly looks at you. “Whenever he’s so close to you, especially as of late… my heart hurts. It hurts, it hurts so badly and I don’t know, and then I just start coughing more, and more, and more.”

“It’s just a stage of life,” you insist. “Maybe your case is the most extreme, but—”

“Oh, stop it already,” she snarls. “You still believe in whatever they feed you about this ‘blooming’? It’s a disease, for fuck’s sake.” She tries to get up again. “I thought… I could be friends with you because you were the only one who wasn’t being sucked into their rhetorics… guess I was wrong.”

You were still on your knees when you tried to stretch out your hand to her, but retracted it after seeing her stumble away from you. But as she did so, she hacked out a new bouquet of flowers, but this time, you could see tiny white flowers rimmed with pale blue.

Morning glories…

They meant unrequited love.

“(y/n)...?” she softly asked, for the first time using her usual mild-mannered tone of voice with you today. She disregarded the mess of petals she made around her, appearing to be accustomed to the unsettling sight.

“... yes?”

“Do you love Takao?”

“I would never see him that way.”

“That’s… good to hear…” She gives you a defeated close-eyed smile.

“Wait… you still need to get cleaned up.”

You got up on your feet to try to guide her face your way to wipe off, and as you try to scrub the dried clots of blood away, she manages to croak a laugh.

“I thought that you were trying to rub it in my face about Takao the entire time whenever you talked to me… I was so wary of you, I was so blinded…” You silently listen as you pour your water bottle over the next tissue.

“Do you know why teens in particular have to pay attention to when they’ll bloom?”

“No…” You furrow your brows, already reevaluating about everything you supposedly already knew about blooming. “I don’t.”

“Teens are more likely to have their first love than any other person. If they can overcome their first unrequited love… that would mean… they are ready to apparently to survive and carry on with their lives…

… tell me… am I not good enough to be alive? I can’t even get over—”

You only hush her as you scrub away the last remnants of blood from her skin. Her clothes were unfortunately already stained.

“That’s the best I could do,” you quietly say. “Please get home as soon as possible. And take care of yourself.”

“The paper we had today in class… When our teacher talked about the new findings of blooming research, I was so happy. But looking around class, no one seemed to share the same sentiments. Even still, I am glad about the possibility that one day, we’d stop emphasizing so much on these marks…

“Although I wish I made the attempt to become closer friends with you sooner, I have no regrets now… I’m so glad you’re here…

 “I feel so relieved…”

---------

The next day of school, you had an ominous feeling settled within the pits of your stomach. You come to school early, deciding to sit at your desk the entire time and reading to pass the time. You did not feel like talking to your happy-go-lucky friend and his grumpy pet, as much as you usually enjoy their company.

Ever so often, you would glance at the clock and wish for it to come faster.

The bell eventually rings and most of the students crowd into the classroom into their seats. The homeroom teacher promptly follows after and puts her bag onto the front desk. But the seat to your left… was empty.

“Everyone… I have some unfortunate news to share,” she solemnly says. No, no, no… it can’t be.

Your mind goes blank as you stare at the teacher, vaguely reading her lips as one thing went in and out the other ear.

“... she unfortunately passed away. She wasn’t able to bloom.”

Your heart, already struggling to keep afloat on the last shreds of optimism, sank.

“Wha…? She’s gone?”

“That’s such a pity…”

“She was in our class? Since when?”

“Yikes, she wasn’t even able to bloom? That sucks for her, honestly.”

You stare blankly at your desk, not registering the fact that the special health ed class teacher took over the class after homeroom.

The whispers around the gossiping students only serve as a cruel reminder that late bloomers did not get any sympathy from others.

You needed to bloom, and fast.

---------

You only manage to exit out of class and find the cafeteria out of pure muscle memory, but your mind constantly goes back to yesterday evening with her. Were you the last person she got to speak with before she died? Was she scared? Did she truly die happy? You will never get to know.

You stop before the cafeteria doorway, inhaling and exhaling to bring your conscience back into the present day, and slowly stroll in. Takao and Midorima were already deep in conversation, so you stop, waiting for the perfect opportunity to join them.

“Shin-chan, have you heard?” Takao says, holding up his fork. “A student our year died from blooming.”

“It’s not in my matters to worry about, although I would like to give her family my condolences.” Midorima takes his time to cut his patty cleanly with a knife.

“It must suck though, to think this would happen… isn’t it a bit sad, Shin-chan?”

“It’s easily preventable, nanodayo.” He chews a small piece before continuing. “I would’ve never made the foolish mistake of falling in love. I’d rather be markless than fall in love.”

He would’ve never made the foolish mistake of falling in love…

He would’ve never made such a mistake…

He would’ve never fallen in love.

And certainly not with you.

Your heavy heart spikes in a pulse. Your heart was now racing for the wrong reasons. Those dull sores were now nothing compared to the incessant squeezing on your heart. And it won’t let up. You try to steady your breathing to calm yourself but your intake of air almost feels as if it’s being cut off.

You feel as if you can’t breathe.

You step back a couple steps before you dash to the nearest restroom, ignoring the stares of a few students around you.

“Speaking of the girl, wasn’t she in (y/n)-chan’s classroom? I actually haven’t seen her around today.”

“Takao, let me eat in peace.”

“Sheesh, you’re such a downer, Shin-chan.”

---------

You not being able to breathe was not just figuratively.

You ran to the restroom up on the 3rd floor, where you knew it was always mostly empty. You opened the door of the furthest stall and locked yourself in before you tried to heave whatever was blocking your airway.

1… 4… 7… 8 fern leaves—fronds—were choked out in a string of forced wheezes. They all floated seemingly innocently on the water of the toilet bowl.

Your body trembles, not able to take the sudden physical burden on it.

You should be happy, you really should. This was what you wished and prayed for all these years. But whatever you coughed out wasn’t even pretty-looking; hell, it wasn’t even a flower.

“I’d rather be markless…”

With Midorima’s words playing back to back in your head like a broken record, your lungs had the visceral reaction to gasp for more air before throwing up the rest of the leaves. It took the rest of lunch for you to stand up properly and collect yourself before you headed back to class.

You wished and you wished for your blooming to come, but now that your signs became apparent, you suddenly don’t want to bloom.

---------

Classes became harder to focus on, especially with the persistent dull stabs echoing in your heart. You feel that this pain was being constantly amplified and spread to the rest of your body.

You’re tired already, and it was only the initial stages.

School finished before you even knew it. Maybe it was because of the constant distraction your pain provided. A benefit from this new situation, if you were trying to be hopelessly optimistic, is that you wouldn’t be bored anymore at least.

You walk out of class in a slight daze, loosely scanning your surroundings until your eyes land on Takao and Midorima, although your gaze lingered on Midorima longer than you want to admit.

You hate this. The moment you figured that you fell in love with him was also the moment you learned that it was unrequited. If that wasn’t the unluckiest thing that ever happened to you, you don’t know what else is.

As you walk towards them, you toy with the idea of carrying around lucky items and taking Midorima’s advice in doing whatever you can to make your life easier (especially as of late), but you decide against it, trying not to dig your own grave by purposely doing things that reminded you of the green-haired boy even more.

“Kazu! Shintarou!” You casually wave over to them, masking the pain you felt at the sharp jabs you felt every so often in your chest.

“Oh? There you are,” Takao walks to your side to drop his arm on your shoulder. “Where you been, (y/n)-chan?”

“Been busy with… assignments and school.”

“Ah, well that can’t be helped. Speaking of busy, our captain is upping our practices, so we’re going to be gone a lot of the times.”

“No, no, don’t worry about me, just focus on basketball,” you say. “After all, that’s what you’re most passionate about. Don’t let me stop you.”

“You sure are understanding,” he laughs as he ruffles your hair. “But so—wah? Shin-chan, where are you going? Don’t leave me behind, damn it!”

Midorima won’t even speak with you…

“Seeyah! Nice seeing you!”

“Yeah… bye, Takao and… Shintarou…” By the time you spoke Midorima’s name, it barely came out as an audible whisper.

Somewhere within your heart, you hoped to be able to speak with Midorima but you wonder if he’s avoiding you on purpose.

As you walk home, alone, you think about the conversation you and Midorima had when he walked with you.

Had you misinterpreted Midorima in thinking that he wanted to bloom?

Was Midorima not the type to even want a mark?

In the end, were you just projecting your own desires and insecurities onto him?

The more you think, the more you realize how little you truly know about him. Right on cue, your windpipe constricts and spasms, signalling for you to find something to throw up in.

The nearest trash can was sufficient, and besides, no one was out in the streets to see a pitiful you hacking out with atrocious noises in an attempt to coax the leaves out. You pant in an attempt to calm your breathing, noticing the small spots of blood already staining dots on the vibrant fronds. Viscous blood mixed with your saliva hangs precariously from your lips, waiting to separate and fall into the bin with the leaves.

Your hands, grasping the trash can’s rims, shake in trying to hold your body up. And they tremble harder when you squint your eyes to start sobbing.

Your thick tears managed to fall into the bin before the ropy strands of blood dangling from your lips.

---------

You decide to spend most of your free time, at home and at school, researching about blooming beyond what your education system fed you. At school, you properly utilize the library, scouring every book on the subject you could find. But you weren’t surprised to see only books that talked about topics that were already covered in class.

Your fervid research took your mind off of Midorima, which subsequently stalled your stage of blooming.

You were going to start at the foundation of blooming: what exactly was it?

While the question is still being debated among the top scientists in the country, you took it upon yourself to try to come with an answer for yourself. For all you were concerned with, everything you thought you knew about blooming felt like an intricately-woven lie.

All the theorizing in your mind halted when you coincidentally found Midorima in one of the library sections.

“Sh-shintarou…?”

At your voice, he jumps out of his skin and then freezes. “What are you doing here?... Don’t you have practice?”

“Obviously I do, nanodayo…” he mutters, sliding his glasses up. You hate that you’ve noticed his habits even before you fell for him, but now that you did, you were even more hyper aware of everything he does. “But they insisted I rest for the actual games.”

“... while the others continue practice like normal?”

He ignores your question as he turns around to walk away. “If you don’t need me for anything else, I’ll be going.”

“W-wait!” You unconsciously grab the back of his uniform shirt. Shit.

He turns around, eyeing you and waiting what you had to say.

“Well, I… I have to go home—right now! And well, since Takao is at practice I was wondering if you—”

He frowns before calmly replying. “No.”

No?

He leaves.

You stand there completely devastated. You don’t know whether to be furious at him and hate him to get over your pain or to do nothing but collapse against the bookshelf and silently cry your heart out.

You did the latter.

---------

The more you think about your unrequited love, the faster you will bloom. The faster you overcome and mature, the faster your blooming will pass. That’s what the books say.

But if you think about them more, isn’t that just a first-row ticket to accelerating to your death? Perhaps your late classmate was right in which blooming wasn’t something to boast about.

Your eyes have been puffy for days, although you mask it quite well with skincare and a dab of concealer. Nonetheless, you still look unwell and unnaturally pale at other parts of your face.

Your other classmates don’t pay attention to you, and for once, you’re grateful that your markless status helped you in flying under everyone’s radar.

You think you’re getting delusional. To ease your own pain during class, you now make it a little hobby to come up with different scenarios in how you would be saved from this.

What if you stop coming to school for a few weeks to see if anyone notices that you went missing?

What if you collapse in the hallway while walking with your friends and then Midorima panics and confesses his undying love for you?

What if an earthquake hit the bustlings of Tokyo and you were one of the only students who couldn’t be rescued by professionals and you were trapped because of your blooming body—and then maybe perhaps Midorima—

“(y/n).”

“Y-y-yes?” You immediately stand up without missing a beat.

“Could you read the passage from lines 37 to 49?...”

“Yes!...”

This was stupid. What were you even thinking at this point?

Honestly, your best option was to do everything in your power to get over Midorima and get your long-deserved mark.

---------

It’s been a couple of days.

While you still fantasize a few “damsel in distress” scenarios sometimes, you feel numb in a good way; your body was accustomed to the dull thuds, so you don’t even feel them as much anymore, and your mind has been clearer ever since the passing of your acquaintance, but at this point, you’re more inclined to call her your friend. You still hacked up a few ferns, though.

You decide to visit her grave on the weekend, which was freshly dug and cemented; it’s been a few weeks since her passing after all. As stupid as it sounded, you got her morning glories. Her spirit might hate you for constantly reminding her the cause of her death, but it’s the only flower that truly reminds you of her, and the only flower that made such an impact on you.

You pay your respects and spend the afternoon with her, murmuring how she was right after all and now it was your turn to finally go what she went through. You also talk about how Takao was doing, and how Shūtōku was competing right now against the big schools. You affectionately rub her gravestone before you leave.

You happen to pass by the stadium of where the esteemed Winter Cup was being held. That was where your team was competing wasn’t it?

You stop, however, when you see a particular greenhead near, with an unfamiliar blonde… and a pink-haired girl, a gorgeous one at that.

Thump… thump… thump…

You were supposed to be over him. You weren’t supposed to care about his affairs. But you saw him being so casual with her while she was holding a baby husky, you suddenly felt as helpless as the you back in the cafeteria, at the doorway, when you heard what Midorima said.

You already told your late friend that you got over Midorima. The last thing you wanted to do now was to end up lying to her that you never did.

You tear your eyes away and bolt, tears blurring your vision as you run in the general direction to where you thought was your home. You hoped that your parents were still at work, because you did not have the courage to tell them that you were a disappointment because you couldn’t even do the bare minimum of blooming. And you certainly hoped her spirit wasn’t following you somehow, because you didn’t want to be the reason for her suffering again, as unreasonable as it sounded.

By the time you arrived at your gates, you couldn’t control the resurfacing of ferns from your lungs as you felt the blood spilling in bursts with the leaves, along with the loud hiccups and desperate wails that escaped from your body. You had left a visible trail of complementary colors of red and green. But you didn’t care. Guilt and rejection wracked your body to the point beyond properly functioning.

Despite the muddy colors that fill your vision, you manage to clumsily use the keys to enter into your house, but walking beyond those gates proved to be more troublesome as those muddy colors soon became even hazier and your legs wobbled weaker. You stumbled and tripped and slipped yet you made the effort to get back up again. You knew you were going to have to hide the dark bruises that formed from you constantly crashing… and probably come up with excuses if you couldn’t obscure all of them. You beg your body to make it to your room at the very least.

I’ll… just sleep it off… it’ll all be okay… I’ll wake up, and everything will just be a dream… a dream…

You collapse onto the floor of the living room, your house door still completely open from moments before.

It must be your room’s bed, right? How else would it explain why you felt so at ease right now?

You feebly choke, too lethargic to even hold up a hand to stop the contents of your blooming from spilling all over the floor.

Ah… won’t they be mad when they’d get back from home?... Maybe you should clean up your bed.

But a short nap sounds heavenly at the moment, and your body has the same idea, your heart relaxing and easing up on the painful thuds for the first time in a while.

You peacefully flutter your eyes, registering amongst the haze the brilliant shade of greens the fern exhibited, which truly reminded you of the person who ultimately could not return your love back… a true sight for sore eyes like yours.

“Sh… ta… rou…”

You vaguely felt your throat tickling from the inside before you lost complete consciousness.

The fern that represented eternal youth… new life… new beginnings… even until the end, you could not comprehend why your body decided to grow ferns.

The sight on the floor was eerily ethereal. Your face was completely serene as your lips were parted by long, elegant ferns emerging from your esophagus, watered by fresh crimson. Your body looked like it was made to be a delicate, asymmetrical vase for the newly-sprouted foliage. There was nothing but silence, save for the wall clock’s ticking that signaled your death.

---------

“Midorin? What’s wrong?” Momoi tilted her head up at Midorima, who started to palpitate. “Did the games pump you up?”

“Obviously not.” He glanced at her pointedly before he excused himself.

“H-uh? Hold up—Midorin!”

At her voice, he took longer strides to outpace, even lose, her, and he sharply made a turn to a deserted area behind the stadiums. Breathe in, breathe out, breathe in, breathe—

A cough. Two coughs. Then his floodgates bursted, with a yellow petal fluttering into his hand before he coughed up the rest of the hyacinth flower, its scent steeped in the headache-inducing odor of metal.

The yellow hyacinth… while the pink hyacinth tattooed on Takao meant playfulness, his own flower meant jealousy.

The first time he felt it was when Takao dragged you to the gym and proclaimed that he knew you better than anyone. His own heart thrashed in its place at the sight of Takao being so confident and easygoing around you. While beating Takao managed to subdue his inner pain, a seed of doubt was still inevitably planted within.

The second time he felt a stronger wave of envy was when he saw you patiently waiting for Takao to come out of his class.

The third time he felt his heart do an awful kick in his upper rib cage was when he heard you spoke so highly of Takao as he walked you home. No matter how much he tried to get close to you, he knew he could never outdo Takao socially. The fact that he could only get as close as he did to you was indirectly thanks to Takao. He was silent that evening, his mind swirling from the self-hatred and jealousy of his innate friendliness to everyone… especially you.

You both ironically envied Takao for different reasons.

As soon as he waited for you to safely enter your house, he widened his eyes as his throat started to twitch. Clasping his lucky item, he bolted to the nearest grass area outside a fence to barf up his umpteenth whole hyacinth flower, with crushed petals and stems.

That’s when he knew that not even the Oha Asa could not save him from this, not unless he took a different approach.

He hated it. He could not emphasize it any further than that. The way you allowed Takao to get so close to you, the way he saw how Takao knew what was going on inside his head. He hated yet envied his natural ability to read people.

 So what did he do? He only did what he only knew how to do in social situations: walk away.

He’d never admit that he was in love. Certainly not to Takao. He’ll keep denying it to him to the bitter end. He told himself that he would show Takao someday, that he was, without a doubt, more suitable to be by your side.

He wanted to get over his love for you as soon as possible so he could adorn a flower tattoo…

If he did… would you notice him too?

Would he be a man worthy of your love?

Avoiding you broke him in many ways. Every time he did, he kept rethinking about his plan. Was this a good idea?

But being the stubborn person he was, he decided to not budge. He’d figure that the Oha Asa would give him the ultimate blessings for Cancer someday soon, and he could act accordingly then. For now, he figured he should lay low.

He’ll never breathe a word of his blooming to Takao. He didn’t want to be the next person making that same mistake as your classmate, yet here he was, a perfect example of falling for the exact same trap, despite knowing the consequences.

He couldn’t help it. Not if it was you.

Yet, Takao being the sharp point-guard that he was, noticed how Midorima had trouble keeping up during practices. Midorima didn’t know what Takao told the captain, but the next thing he knew, he wasn’t allowed to practice under the pretense of “saving his strength before the games.” As much as he wanted to argue, he couldn’t do much when the captain’s glare pierced through him, daring him to defy the captain’s order. He couldn’t even play basketball anymore in order to distract himself from thoughts of you.

As he continued to think back about all the failed interactions he tried to initiate with you, his lips leaked petal after soaked petal onto the concrete as he propped his forearms and head against the wall.

“Damn it… damn it… damn it…”

He slowly slid his down, his fisted arms and head still against the wall, until he dropped his knees onto the hard floor. He tried to regain his composure, but it was difficult with his knees mushing the bloodied flowers already on the concrete and the fresher flowers ever so continuing to fall on his lap.

He kept hacking up hyacinths blossoms, hoping he could clear his throat and stabilize his breathing again before he could go back into the stadium. Even after nonstop regurgitation, its glaring yellow color kept mocking at his macabre predicament, taunting him to try to stop the flow of its fatal petals.

He slammed his fist against the wall. He had to tough it out… how else could he ever face you?

But the strength of his wall pounding told a different story. It lacked physical strength even with his unwavering conviction. Midorima was dying. He was dying and he wasn’t even able to have a single thing in his favor.

For the first time, he cursed his fate, cursed the horoscopes, cursed astrology and all the unseen deities in the cosmos for concocting up such a horrible thing for only humans.

“... It’s really frustrating… being like this…”

Midorima gave a final, painful rasp before his body completely slumped, his raised arms going limp at his sides. His body eventually fell onto his side, unable to hold up its own weight without support.

His viscid blood slowly soaked his verdant hair, his orange jersey jacket and sweats, and his golden hyacinths. Warm colors ironically encompassed his ever-growing cold corpse, illustrating a striking yet haunting still-life painting, lying in wait for the next person to discover at the back of the stadium…

[horrorslashergirl]

Akshay Lah-Mo SFW Alphabet

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

Akshay isn't the most affectionate guy, the first impression being that of a cold, stoic, and emotionless man, but you know what they say... Learn to read through the words. It takes time for Akshay to warm up to people and even then he will sometimes have an abrasive demeanor. Now, if you are his s/o things are different, especially if it's only you and him. He can be quite affectionate with his s/o, especially after a long time in the relationship. He will wrap his muscular inked arms around you, kissing the crown of your head in the morning after you made him coffee, he will hold your hand as you walk with him through the snow-covered tundra. He will even get to speak up more about his emotions in his own way because he is a writer and his emotions are very deep and full of passion once he puts them out on a platter for his s/o. It's a long and icy road to get there but not impossible. In time this iceberg will show little by little his love and affection towards you.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

Akshay as a best friend depends on the other one. His best friend is Andrei Kulokova (@the-slasher-files 's OC). They are best buddies but they are also at each other's throats all the time... And the winner? None... They just end up all bloody and bruised, but at the end of the day, they care about each other and would protect the other ones back all the time. So to say so... Having Akshay as a best friend means that you have someone that doesn't beat around the Bush.... He will tell you if you are stupid and an idiot like he does with Andrei. He will make crud remarks like he does with Andrei, but in the end, everything is all because he cares about you.... Even as a friend. In his opinion, the people that truly have feelings for you, even if it's brotherly, they also tell you if you are wrong, they guide you. That's how Akshay is.... An honest man, because sincerity plays a big part in his life.... Be it friendship or relationship.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

Full-time cuddling is strictly only for his s/o, someone for who he has true feelings because it's an intimate and vulnerable time. Especially after lovemaking, he loves to have his s/o into his arms or onto his lap, his behemoth frame hiding his true one from the cruel world outside, protecting them, assuring them that he is here with them.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

Settling down has a different meaning to him. It simply means living with his s/o into his cabin home on the outskirts of a town in Alaska, surrounded by nature and quietness, enjoying each others company. Akshay is a man who enjoys the simpler things in life and loves the peacefulness that Mother Nature provides.

As for cooking and cleaning. He can cook a decent meal, since he lived alone for years in Alaska he learned to take care of himself. He cooks delicious deer and fish, so you won't be disappointed. Cleaning? Another pro... Akshay is quite a neat freak and likes to have his stuff in a certain order; his books perfectly arranged on the shelves, his clothes neatly folded into his closet. Living with him you won't have to yell at him to not let his dirty clothes on the floor.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

That's a touchy subject. Akshay isn't the type to break up over non-important things. Like, if he fights or argues with his s/o he will always be the mature one and make things right. He isn't one to run away from responsibilities and his s/o is his responsibility. He may be a brutish ice-cold killer but he has some sense in him and knows any relationship problem can be solved after the waters are calm and having a conversation about the problem.... Finding a solution.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

Marriage isn't something Akshay is seeing, but if his s/o wants to get married... And he has very VERY strong feelings for them he won't be opposed to it. He wants to make his s/o happy so for their sake they can get married, but nothing big or fancy like. Maybe an exchange of rings into the snow-covered forest while sharing their promises to each other.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

Akshay is a very brutal man who smashed skulls and can throw people through the roof. The feral rage of a polar bear, but with his s/o it's different. When Akshay deeply cares and loves someone, the brutish-looking man can be the most gentle person you have ever meet. He knows what deadly strength he packs and how easily is to snap bones like they were twigs so he is extra careful with his loved one, treating them like the most precious treasure made of the most fragile glass. His gentleness will show in time... With men, he is much rougher especially if they match his behemoth frame... With small women? A true gentleman.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

He likes and doesn't like them. Kind of a paradox. He will only hug the people Who are the closest to him like family, very good friends, and his s/o of course. When hugging his friends the hugs are short with a pat on their back. As for his s/o? The hugs are long, his arms wrapping around their form, his fingers running through their hair and if they are small in height he will rest his chin on top of their head.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

Akshay isn't a man who straight up says these big words just to be thrown there. He has to really FEEL that connection with someone to say they love words. He may not be a man of many words but he knows once the words are said you cannot take them back. He wants to be sincere when he says 'I love you'... To feel the words sink deep into his chest.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

Akshay can be very jealous, especially when strangers get too close to his s/o in a very sleazy way. Just think about this scenario. Akshay and his special someone going to a coffee shop, he goes to take their order and while he does that, some idiot who has a death wish starts to flirt with his s/o without shame. The poor idiot soul will find himself with his jaw broken and teeth all knocked out on the floor.... And that's the easy and good case because this man has to problem ripping their arms out either.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

Akshay's kisses could be described as deep and slow, taking his time and savoring the pure essence of the kiss, his hand running through his s/o's hair and his other hand resting on their lower back or simply holding their hip to be flush against his body. He loves to kiss his s/o on the lips, showing them that they are his or he kisses the top of their head if they are small-sized. As for where he likes to be kissed? He cannot deny that kissing the skin of his neck down below his ear really sends shivers down his spine.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

He doesn't hate them but neither is he very excited about the little fellas. As long as they don't bother him or anything like that, he doesn't mind them. He is neutral in this aspect. He always finds himself next to the little ones asking him if he is a giant.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

Mornings with Akshay can be kind of lazy as he isn't the type to straight-up jump from the bed the moment he wakes up. He enjoys staying in bed a few more minutes after waking up, basking into the start of the morning. Morning for Akshay also means plates full of pancakes, maple syrup, and forest fruits along with a nice big hot cup of coffee. Mornings full of tranquility.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

Nights with Akshay are as tranquil as the mornings. The nights with the Polar bear can be spent watching a movie, while cuddling under a fluffy blanket, eating snacks and sweets... Or going outside, watching the Alaskan Northern Lights, with a nice small picnic, taking into all that Mother Nature gives you two. Akshay can be quite the romantic type if you look through the hard and cold exterior of the Mountain of an iceberg.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

Akshay is like a big real-life novel that you need to take time reading and then re-reading it all over again in order to understand him. He is like an enigma of the snow-covered deep forest... You need to melt the heavy pounds of ice and snow to see under the coldness that he puts out at first... It takes time and effort, but everything will be worth it once he slowly comes out of the frozen shell. He will reveal things slowly without trying once he finds himself trusting you and seeing that you mean well and are genuine into your actions.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

Akshay has the patience of a God, but may the Lord have mercy once the last drop of patience evaporates. You know what they say... Beware of the calmest ones because you don't know when they will strike and trust me... You will know when Akshay strikes. It's like the calm waters of the ocean but at some point, these peaceful waters will transform into full-on hurricanes that shall destroy everything in their paths. His s/o is probably the only one who doesn't face these storms because he has a never-ending source of patience for them.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing or do they kind of forget everything?)

Akshay has a pretty good memory. He remembers details of your past, your favorite movies, your favorite meal. The simpler things in life mean the most so he will never forget an anniversary or your birthday or if there is a certain special day that has a big meaning to you.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

His favorite moment into your relationship with him would be the first night that you spend with him watching the Northern Lights while talking about all types of certain topics. The first moments about everything mean the most to him; the first kiss with you, the first breakfast together, the first time you two made love. These moments will forever be imprinted into his mind, like a tattoo.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

Akshay is overly protective about his s/o and over his beloved ones too, even if you are a friend he will always have your back and never let you down no matter the situation. He will protect you with all he has, always standing in front of you, like a thick wall of ice that doesn't let even a single scratch leave your skin. He is the perfect epitome of a polar bear and he sure shows it when shielding his people most important to him. May God have mercy on the dumb ones that try to mess with his family.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

Akshay isn't one for fancy dates or flamboyant anniversaries, but he does put effort into them, like cooking a delicious breakfast, running a hot bath with aromatic salts. For your and his anniversary, you might wake up and look out the window, seeing the words 'I LOVE YOU' written into the freshly fallen snow. He is a man of actions than words and his actions speak of how much he loves his s/o.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

One of Akshay's habits might be sometimes his blunt ice-like tongue and mouth. He is an honest man and speaks up his mind, to the point where his bluntness might be too acidic. Of course, he will try to suppress this habit with his beloved, trying to be more diplomatic about his thoughts and what he tries to say. If he says something that might hurt you emotionally, he will straight up to see the anger and sadness into your orbs and he will quickly soften... He will be the first one to apologize because he knows it's his fault.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

The Polar bear isn't one to be very absorbed in his looks, despite many people telling him how good-looking he is. What's not to like? Soft spikey white hair, deep pools of grey eyes, muscular arms covered by tribal ink all over, the tall and bulky frame that gives of protection vibes... He is a full package. He does take care of himself, like shaving and showering every day but he doesn't spend hours upon hours in the mirror. He is to say so.... Neutral about his looks.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

Once Akshay loves, there is no turning back. He does it from the deepness of his heart and if I think about it on a very emotional level.... If his s/o breaks up with him, this man will shield himself well into ice and coldness, like a blizzard that you are afraid to enter. He might not be able to get over the breakup and there also might not be a next s/o. Trust is so easy to break yet even if you put it back together it's not the same.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

Akshay is very fond of writing and having his home surrounded by all kinds of plants, being as close to nature as possible. He likes cozy and quiet vibes. Even if he lives in one of the coldest places on earth, there is a certain warmness when he enters his cabin and might make you never leave it, because of how at home you will feel.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

Akshay doesn't like the big city, all that agitation and chaos gives him headaches and makes him uneasy as in, he feels like throwing people across buildings. It's like trying to put a polar bear on a leash and take him for a walk through New York City. Just NO. Plus all that pollution and ecologic disaster. He will go nuts.

As in for something he wouldn't like in a s/o? Probably big city 'divas' who would constantly complain about the lack of commercial centers, the weather being too cruel, and let's not get started on these females who are constantly walking with heels.... Nice try walking with stilettos through inches upon inches of snow. I suggest you go back from where you came from because Akshay doesn't put up with snobs.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

Akshay is a light sleeper at the beginning but as the sleep progresses, he is a heavy sleeper, especially into the morning after he wakes up. If you try to wake him up he will just grunt and grumble, drapping one of his heavy legs over your body and pull you flush against his chest murmuring 'five more minutes'. Sleeping with Akshay is like sleeping into the big strong arms of a bear and during cruel winter nights you will never feel once a bit of coldness.

[nbrook29]

but baby, it’s cold outside

So, I might have written a thing 🤭 Robbe’s photo related thing to be more specific.

Also on ao3!

----

“Wow, who knew making a fire could be so sexy?”

Robbe heaves a long-suffering sigh and looks at the sky above him in hopes it gives him strength to deal with the dork also known as his boyfriend.

“Don’t you sigh at me, Robin, you’d agree with me if you could see yourself right now.”

The tone of his voice is enough to let Robbe know Sander is currently in his teasing mood and lives to rile him up.

He looks very pleased with himself when Robbe turns his head to give him an eyeroll, even more so when he notices the smile tugging at the corners of Robbe’s mouth. At the eyebrow wiggle he then receives Robbe stops fighting the smile altogether and laughs quietly at Sander’s antics, his chapped from cold lips cracking a little.

“Will you help me or you’re just gonna stand there looking pretty, huh?” he lights another match but it’s immediately blown out by the wind and he lets out a small whine in frustration.

“But you’re doing so good on your own! I can cheer for you though?” Sander’s offer sounds almost genuine but the blossoming smirk acts like a tattletale and yes, Sander is definitely in the mood.

And Robbe can’t even be mad that he’s a little shit because he’s a sucker for him and that smile and they both know it. So he just shakes his head in feigned resignation, giggling when Sander actually does start cheering for him, whooping and clapping his hands, and just being embarrassing in general.

It’s getting noticeably colder with the temperature dropping significantly since they left Sander’s house over an hour ago. There has been a warning of a blizzard coming to Antwerp this evening but it feels like it may come sooner than anticipated.

They went for a long walk in the afternoon to get a bit of fresh air and to enjoy the dearly missed for years snow after being cooped up in their respective bedrooms for days and days on end, cramming for finals (Robbe) and finishing up projects (Sander). The sound of fresh snow crunching under their shoes felt like freedom at last, both of them instantly turning into 8 year olds, threatening each other with snowballs and making snow angels, soaking half of their clothes in the process.

For the artist inside of Sander, the winter wonderland-like scenery was like a wet dream, his fingers clicking away on his vintage camera every two minutes or so, making their walk extra slow. Robbe didn’t mind though, being long acquainted with Sander’s artistic habits and indulging him every time he turned his big eyes on him to request them getting off their track a bit to take a photo of yet another thing looking awesome covered in snow. And then after every picture taking his hands into his own to rub his freezing fingers in order to warm them up because Sander refused to wear gloves. Granted, they weren’t very practical for operating a camera but still. Robbe had a very personal relationship with these beautiful hands so it’s not like he could just let them freeze off. It was basically his duty. The sweet smile Sander shot him every time he did it was an additional bonus.

They grabbed a coffee from their favorite coffee shop at the corner of Sander’s street but the wonders that the warm liquid did to warm them up has been long gone by now. Robbe is pretty sure the sound that’s coming from his left side is actually Sander’s chattering teeth so he doubles his efforts and after a few attempts he finally manages to make fire pit lit up. His boyfriend lets out a loud whoop and then immediately comes closer, wrapping himself around Robbe’s small body from behind and holding his palms above the new source of warm.

“You know,” he starts as Robbe pokes at the fire a few times and throws a piece of wood in it and letting it burn before melting into Sander’s embrace and warming his own hands over the flames. “I already knew I’m dating a skater boy but I had no idea I’m also dating a scout boy.”

Robbe snorts. “Lucky you because otherwise you’d freeze to death. I’m expecting your gratitude anytime now.”

Hey, he can be a little shit too if he puts his mind to it.

“Well thank you, baby,” Sander purrs sweetly into his ear, placing a kiss on the spot on the side of his neck currently not covered with scarf causing a shiver go through Robbe’s body, only partially due to his cold as ice lips.

He tilts his head to the left and presses a lingering kiss to his mouth, his eyes closing and knees buckling a little within seconds when Sander licks into him, his hands landing on Robbe’s hips to steady himself. It’s slow and unhurried, a bit uncomfortable given the position they’re standing in but it’s not like either of them actually cares.

They do care though when the darkish grey clouds over them decide it’s high time for some snow so they’re forced to separate, Sander letting out a sorrowful sigh, burying his face in Robbe’s neck and circling his waist with his arms, refusing to let go.

“Come on, let’s go before it gets really bad,” he laughs quietly when Sander shakes his head petulantly, his fringe tickling Robbe’s cheek in the process.

“I don’t want to,” he groans but after a few minutes he lifts his head slowly, surrendering. But then he dips his head again under Robbe’s jaw as if to test something. “Hey, you smell nice. Is that a new aftershave?”

“Yeah, you like it?” Robbe asks expectantly.

Sander pretends to think for a second. “Wait, I think I need to check again,” he replies before burying his cold nose in the hinge of his jaw. Robbe lets out a high-pitched squeak at the sudden coldness and tries to squirm away, giggling as Sander instead of letting him go places little (cold) kisses along his jawline. Once he manages to kiss every square of it he backs out with a triumphant smile, barely dodging Robbe’s incoming elbow.

“After a closer inspection, yes, I do like it, I like it a lot.”

“Cool.”

“Cool.”

Robbe tries to hide his smile, pleased with Sander’s reaction because he wants to actually keep his cool but he fails and Sander sees right through him, chuckling when he realizes the slight blush on Robbe’s cheeks has little to do with cold. Surprisingly, he decides to let it go and not tease him about it which Robbe is lowkey grateful for because it’s embarrassing how gone he is for him.

Before they leave the lakeside, they both take a picture with their phones of the now extinguished fire, or actually what’s left of it. Robbe is first to post it but Sander’s photo is better, obviously, his skills at tweaking it to look just right far more superior than Robbe’s. Once Sander’s done, he puts away his phone with a tongue-in-cheek smile and Robbe is already dreading what he’s going to find in the caption. He taps on the app icon and groans.

Fire made by my firebreather 🌬️🥶❄️☃️💙 #scoutboy

“Ugh, you’re so annoying.”

Sander blows him a kiss, ignoring his scoffing as he entwines their fingers and pulling Robbe along to finally get them moving, the snow getting stronger the longer they stall.

Robbe forgets all about Sander’s embarrassing caption when he realizes they are still about 20 minutes away from his house and he’s almost soaked to his underwear. Sander’s in a better state than him, his leather jacket despite not giving much warmth keeping the snow from getting through, and so are his ankle reaching shoes.

They can’t exactly take a tram because the snow caused a huge gridlock, people honking at each other left and right with trams stuck in between. They try to run for a while but the pavement is too icy and it quickly turns out that one wrong move is going to cost them a broken bone. But Sander looks determined to get them to his house as quickly as possible once he notices Robbe’s soaked through clothes and his violently shivering body so they end up getting there in under 15 minutes.

Thankfully, his parents had left the heat in the house turned on before they went to the movies so once they cross the threshold they are bathed in a delightful warmth. They take off their shoes and jackets, but then Robbe lingers in the entry, aware of his dripping clothes and not wanting to make a mess at which Sander just rolls his eyes and drags him to the upstairs bathroom.

Robbe has troubles to keep his teeth from chattering and when he sees himself in the mirror, his lips are slowly turning a weird shade of blue so he peels off all the soaked layers while Sander turns the shower on, making sure the water is hot enough to stop Robbe from turning into a smurf. He has that deep wrinkle between his furrowed eyebrows and he’s acting like a man on a mission helping Robbe get off the soaked clothes and collecting a fresh share of his own for him to put later on.

“He-ey, calm down, I-I-I’m f-iiii-ne,” Robbe stutters out because when Sander gets all worried about him like this it’s best to squash that seed right away.

“Tell that to your lips,” he scoffs, worrying his own lip between his teeth. “Come on, get in.”

Robbe sighs and decides it’s probably best to just let him fret a little. He lets himself be maneuvered into the shower and then snorts at Sander’s unsure look on his face as he hovers near the shower door, clearly wanting to join in but not wanting to intrude.

“Ar-rre you seriii-oouus?” he asks, groaning in relief when the hot water hits his back. “What are you wai-iii-ting for, get in, you’re all wet too!”

That puts him in motion and Robbe laughs when he sees him shedding his clothes off in record speed, jumping on one leg when he tries to get off his wet skinny jeans, before joining him and pushing his face directly under the stream.

“Fuck, it feels so good.” Sander turns his head back and forth, letting the water wet his hair before he takes a good look at Robbe. “You’re feeling better?”

He delicately thumbs at his lower lip and the sweet gesture makes Robbe smile and give his finger a side kiss, then turning his head slightly to place another on the center of his palm.

“Yeah, I think circulation is back,” he jokes, wiggling his toes.

“I’m sorry, I know it’s my fault, if I hadn’t been fooling around we would have gotten home before it got so bad-”

“Sander, shut up, it’s not your fault it snowed harder we anticipated,” Robbe looks at him with disbelief.

Of course Sander would blame himself.

“But-”

“No buts. Period.”

Sander doesn’t look convinced so to avoid any further doubts, Robbe stands on his tiptoes, looping his arms around his neck and shuts him up with a kiss. It definitely helps to warm him up faster.

“So like... no butts at all?”

Robbe blames it on the almost-hypothermia that it takes him a few seconds to get the joke.

“Oh my god you’re unbelieveable,” he laughs into his finally smiling mouth and deepens the kiss, Sander’s wandering hands effectively erasing any cold-related feeling from his mind.

[boxoftheskyking]

Pick Up Every Piece - Part One

Ok things to know: -this does not take place in China. It does not take place in the US. It is the year 2000 in a fictional country that I control (this project is a challenge called Let’s Do Exposition). Just go with it. -It’s all talking. That’s what I do, you know this. -Warnings for stuff, I dunno I haven’t written it all yet. When it’s shiny it’ll go on AO3 but for now here’s what I got so far.  -There is a lot of alcohol in this fic -Like all fic writers I live on positive reinforcement and this shit is a lot of work. -The title may change, yes it is from NMH

---

There are bodies in the creek bed. Enough bodies to stop the flow of the water. Thirty at least, a dam of them. An old woman and a child. Clothes and hair sodden, darkened and wet. Clouds of darkness hovering in the air around them, seeping into dead flesh. An old woman and a child and others. Others in that middle age, the age that passes comment. Is it wrong that these two bodies stand out to him? After all, if he were among the bodies, if he was lying in this creek bed, thirty, skinny, and unremarkable, he would hardly notice himself. He’d blend into the pile, only serving to make the word a plural. Body becomes Bodies. Alters the language. Murder becomes Massacre. There are thirty bodies and hundreds, thousands of flies. Crawling on the back of the little boy’s hand. A smell like—not burning, not quite. Death. Not rot, fresh death. The sand under his feet is nearly dry. The creek bed is dry.

Wei Ying blinks. The creek burbles on alongside him, one duck lazily riding the current under a fallen branch and along to somewhere more interesting. It’s October, and beautiful, and there’s the smallest twilight bite in the air pricking at his nostrils on every inhale. He blows out a long breath and finds himself scratching at his arms, the backs of his hands, where the old scars are. They’re ugly, blotchy and dark like land masses on a faded old map, and they still itch sometimes. He rubs at them hard with the heel of his palm—it’s a weird half-feeling, the layers of dead tissue. It’s not dead, Wen Qing would correct him. It’s not necrotic, it’s just scarring. 

He steps around the gnarled roots that reach up from the banks, trying to get to the road but not ever making it. There’s a few muddy stuffed bears tucked among them, plastic wrap snagged on the bark from cheap drugstore bunches of flowers that have rotted away. A couple of carefully hand-painted wooden signs nailed to the trunks, trying to convince the place that people still remember.

He shakes himself and turns away from the woods, hopping the fence onto the road that leads to the bar. He’s late, but Li Chen is always late in the mornings so he deserves to work an extra fifteen minutes. It’s not like there’s a manager to yell at him.

The bar is across the street from an old gas station, one that got firebombed during the war and then left. That’s the thing about Yiling. Everywhere else, even up in Gusu, the cities have gotten rid of as much evidence as possible. Well, they’ve gotten rid of most and turned the rest into memorials to the victorious dead, nice and shiny and flying the Sunshot flag. Nobody really cares about appearances around Yiling—maybe the city council does, but they don’t have anywhere near the budget to run cleanup. Too much actual infrastructure got hit during the worst of the fighting, and they’ll be years behind the rest of the country for the next decade or so. Memorials here are all handmade, and none of them last long.

There’s a flag, though, spray painted on what’s left of the concrete wall of the gas station. A golden hand covering most of a red sun, partly covered by black—one finger for each of the four leading clans and a thumb for everyone else. Typical. He’s not sure who’d have painted a Sunshot here. No one local, he’d put money on it. He supposes they know about spray paint in Lanling—governments must adapt.

It’s probably intentional, anyway, the lack of cleanup. The lack of progress. Nightless City can be repurposed by the Jin government, but the site of the Massacre should stay ugly and busted for a few more years. So no one forgets what it looks like to lose.

Wei Ying likes it in Yiling. “It’s my kind of town,” he always tells Jiang Cheng, who usually throws something at his head. “You want to be a bartender in a town like this. In a town like this, people need a bartender. It’s nice to be needed, you know.” 

It’s a shitty bar by any other place’s standards, but for Yiling it’s cozy. The owner, who everyone just calls Granny, still orders sawdust for the floors like it’s 1860 or something, to soak up spills and puke and, occasionally, blood.

Jiang Cheng always says it’s only a matter of time before they have murder in the bar. “Manslaughter, at least,” he’ll say. “It’s just got that look.” Wei Ying says everyone in Yiling’s too tired. Mostly he and Wen Ning just roll drunks out onto the sidewalk and into a cab if someone can afford it. 

Jiang Cheng himself comes in around eight. It’s as much of a rush as they ever get, so he has to wait for a few old men to get their cheap lager and gin before sliding up to the bar on his usual stool. Wen Ning gives him a cheerful salute as he comes in, and Jiang Cheng nods awkwardly back at him.

“You’re back early,” Wei Ying says, drawing him a pint of something bitter. Jiang Cheng still lives in Yunmeng, in the old family home, but he has a sublet in Yiling now that he’s working for the intelligence department. Jin Zixuan calls it “cutting his teeth” monitoring old Wen strongholds. Jiang Cheng calls it “shoveling shit.”

It turns out cleaning up a civil war is a pain in the ass, even five years later.

“We should do lunch with Wen Qing on Saturday. She’ll want to see you.”

Jiang Cheng pulls out his annoying little planner, full of his cramped handwriting and meetings with this informant and that police sergeant. “Have to be brunch, I’ve got a twelve-thirty on Saturday.”

Wei Ying snorts at him. “Brunch, in Yiling. Good luck.”

“Hangover breakfast, then.”

“That we can do.”

Jiang Cheng takes a long pull of his beer and Wei Ying can see the relief run down him from the crown of his head down over his shoulders like something hot and slippery. Oil maybe, or homemade noodles. He groans and drops his head down behind his glass.

“Hey, Wei Ying!” An arthritic hand waves at him from the other end of the bar.

“Gotcha, Riseung,” he calls and starts fishing for the kahlua and cream. It’s always at the back of the cooler; no one else ever orders it. “You’re gonna work yourself into an early grave,” he tosses back at Jiang Cheng. 

“Not if you keep giving me beer.”

“Hey, Wei Ying, I saw that story last week. Hell of a thing.” Li Riseung has a little cream mustache, but Wei Ying’s not going to mention it.

“The gas thing?” Wei Ying grins at him. “Yeah, I’m telling you, it’s all connected. You watch the prices when Lanling tries to pass another referendum. It’s all supposed to soften you up. You got something for me today?”

“Still writing your conspiracy theories?” Jiang Cheng calls to him. “Some guys just don’t know when to quit.”

(Someone else comes up, he pulls a pint of stout.)

Riseung bristles. “Wei Ying is the only real journalist left in this country. You’ll see.”

Wei Ying props his chin on his folded hands and waits. Riseung takes another long sip. “Yu Xiuying’s got her popcorn maker up and running. She’s starting to sell what she can, make enough to get the theater back in order.”

“Really? That would be something. I’m sick of taking the train every time I want to see a movie.”

“You should report on that, get her some customers.”

Wei Ying drums his fingers on his chin. “Maybe we can work out an ad situation. I need more ads, you know. Papers ain’t cheap.”

Riseung finishes his drink, sets the glass down on the bar. He half-reaches for his pocket. “So, do I owe you, or . . .”

Wei Ying stifles a sigh. Technically it’s nothing he can use. He’s not about to publish an expose on popcorn. Still, he waves a hand. “Your money’s no good here. Go on, keep up the good work.”

The man grins up at him, flashing a row of silver fillings, and heads over to bother someone else. 

(Another customer—rum and Coke.)

“You’re just letting people drink for free, huh?” Jiang Cheng says. Wei Ying wanders back over to him, taking a sip of his own drink (coffee, plus whiskey, just enough to get through the shift).

“Reporting is all about cultivating sources, Jiang Cheng, even you should know that. Li Riseung is a source.”

“A source,” Jiang Cheng mutters. “He’s a drunk.”

“So’s everyone. This whole country’s full of drunks. Drunks make the world go around.”

Jiang Cheng rolls his eyes. “This city is fucking depressing.”

“Oh, and all of Lanling’s sober, is it? Yunmeng? Everybody’s living like Lans? You’d be much more pleasant with a few more of these in you.” Wei Ying grabs his pint glass and dumps the end of it out, refilling in the same smooth movement. It’s just out of spite. He shouldn’t be wasting a good few ounces of genuinely nice beer. But he can’t help it; Jiang Cheng brings it out in him. He spins and shimmies a bit to the bad pop song coming from the busted speaker above him and grabs a bin of limes to chop.

“When are you going to come home?”

Wei Ying doesn’t slip and cut himself, but it’s close.

“I live in Yiling, Jiang Cheng.”

“Yeah, for now.”

Wei Ying sighs. “I like it here, okay? You think they’d let me back in Yunmeng, after everything?”

“I’ve got influence now. They wouldn’t say anything.”

(Two lagers, shot of tequila.)

He hasn’t lived in Yunmeng in years. Almost a decade now. He was in Yunmeng at the start of everything, when Wen Ruohan was forced out of office and half the military went with him. He visits now, but there’s still that sense of before when he’s there, like the majority of his life hasn’t happened yet. But Jiang Cheng is never going to get that, he’s a linear person.

“Not saying anything isn’t the same as allowing. I’m not going to make you fight all day just so I can work at some bougie wine bar somewhere.”

“You wouldn’t have to work at a bar. You could—”

“What? Write? You think anyone anywhere is going to hire me at a paper again? Despite all the rumors, you’re not that dumb.”

“Fuck off. You could work with me.”

“Intelligence. Really? How do you think that would work out? ‘Yes, Jin Zixuan, whatever you say, Jin Zixuan—’”

“Fuck off.” 

Wei Ying shakes his head and scrapes a pile of lime wedges back in the bin. “I like where I am. I’ve got the paper—”

“It’s not a paper.”

Wei Ying doesn’t slam the knife down, but it’s a close thing. “Jiang Cheng—”

“You’re such a fucking martyr. What, you lose your dream job so you go to the ass crack of the world and set yourself up as king of nowhere?”

“I’m not king of anything, I’m just writing.”

(Three glasses of white wine.)

“Yiling Laozu.” Jiang Cheng clicks his tongue. “I know you can’t use your real name, but that’s embarrassing. Laozu. You and your sources.”

Wei Ying takes a breath and unclenches his jaw. “If Wen Qing were here you wouldn’t be calling us embarrassing.” 

“You’re embarrassing. She’s not embarrassing.”

“It’s our paper.”

“Wen Qing has dignity. You have none.”

Wei Ying gathers up his knife and cutting board to run them back to the dish pit. “Ah, Jiang Cheng, you love me. I know you do.”

It’s always a good way to end a conversation, their own private code. If you keep pushing here you’re going to break something. A warning. You love me. I know you do. Jiang Cheng doesn't ever deny it, but he never agrees either. He doesn't need to. Wei Ying has proof. The scars on the back of his hands, curling around his wrists and up his arms—burn scars, chemical burns—are proof. Jiang Cheng doesn't like to look at his hands. That's proof too. 

 When he comes back out, Jiang Cheng isn’t alone. The general noise of the bar has fallen to a murmur, and the rowdy game of dominoes is paused in the corner.

 Xue Yang is sprawled over two stools, dressed in shiny black leather and grinning a few inches away from Jiang Cheng’s face.

“How’s it going, Captain Jiang?”

Jiang Cheng leans away. “I don’t see you. You are not here.”

“Course not. Good boy.”

Jiang Cheng’s hand tightens around his glass, and Wei Ying picks up the pace slightly. 

“Leave him alone, Xue Yang,” he says, carefully mild.

The grin turns on him, and Xue Yang waves, his weird little black prosthesis sticking out like a lighting-struck tree. “You telling me what to do, Wei Ying?” 

“I would never. Here, have a drink. If you want.” He pours him a double from his own secret bottle, the one Granny gave him on a good night in the summer. It’s painfully ironic—Xue Yang would be the only person in Yiling who could afford it if he ever actually paid for it.

Wei Ying nods to him and slides the glass across the bar, along with the usual brown envelope. Jiang Cheng sighs and spins around on his stool, looking away.

“Feels light,” Xue Yang says, like always.

“It’s not,” Wei Ying says, also like always. 

Xue Yang grins around the little white stick hanging out of his mouth, and Wei Ying grins back. “Eight percent extra on anything you’re short next time.”

“It’s not short. And it’s five percent, don’t try to fuck with me.” Wei Ying smiles wider and does not blink.

“Maybe it’s changed.”

“Granny would tell me, and she wouldn’t hear it from you.”

“Maybe it’s changing today.” Xue Yang leans across the bar, not quite getting in his face, but close enough. Wei Ying meets Wen Ning’s eye over his shoulder. Wen Ning takes a few steps away from the door, but Wei Ying shakes his head just a fraction and he goes still.

“You don’t have the authority.” Wei Ying lets his grin go a little unnatural at the corners, a little bit of a snarl. “And it’s not short, so it doesn’t matter.”

Xue Yang laughs and tucks the envelope into his jacket, then takes a long swig. Wei Ying breathes, finally, quiet and careful.

“Xue Yang,” he says as he starts to wipe down the bar again. “You know you wound me.”

Xue Yang wipes his mouth on his sleeve. “Oh do I?”

“You know it hurts me, deep down in the soul parts of my body, to see you drink top shelf scotch with a fucking sucker in your mouth.” 

Xue Yang sticks out his tongue so Wei Ying can see the little yellow nub of it. “It’s pineapple.” 

“Great. Thank you. I’m going to go drink bleach now.”

Jiang Cheng half turns to glare at him. “That’s not fucking funny.”

Xue Yang chugs the rest of the scotch and tosses the empty glass at Wei Ying. He hates that it makes him flinch before he catches it. “Tell Granny I say hi.”

“Fuck off.”

“Hey, where’s the little one? Haven’t seen her in a minute.”

Wei Ying stiffens. “You’ll stay away from her if you cherish the rest of those fingers.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Xue Yang gives him a mocking salute and saunters back out towards the door. He’s nearly out when he knocks into an empty chair, sending it to the floor with a crack like a gunshot. No one hits the deck completely, but the held-breath silence turns into a gasp as all eyes snap to the sound, shoulders up and hands braced on tabletops, thighs tensed and ready to run. 

Even Xue Yang is frozen at the door for a second. He laughs, though his jaw is tight. “Just a chair, ladies and gentlemen. Clean this shit up, Wen Ning.” And he’s gone.

Wei Ying deflates, adding some of the good scotch to his own cup. Jiang Cheng makes a face.

“How’s that coffee?”

“Shut up.”

“You should let me talk to Zixuan.”

“You talk to him every day.”

“You know what I mean. How long have you been paying—”

Wei Ying sighs and flicks his rag at his brother. “Thing one: I don’t pay, Granny pays. Thing two: Xue Yang is just a low level street thug with connections, he’s as in charge of the operation as I am in charge of Yiling. Thing three: it all kicks up to the Jins at the end of the day, so what are they gonna do about it?”

“Zixuan isn’t—”

“Yeah, I know your best pal is the paragon of morality.”

(Scotch and soda, root beer, gin and tonic, and three pints.)

“He’s our brother-in-law.”

“And your brother-in-arms, I know, I’d never dare disparage the mighty—”

“He’s a nicer brother than you are.”

Wei Ying mimes a faint. “I’m going to call Shijie, tell her you’re being mean to me.”

Jiang Cheng goes quiet, looks down at his beer. Wei Ying reaches out for it, an offering.

“Another?”

Jiang Cheng shakes his head. “I shouldn’t.” A chunk of his hair comes loose from its tie, feathers across his forehead.

“When are you gonna cut that hair, huh?” Wei Ying flicks it back over his ear. Jiang Cheng swipes at his hand lazily.

“I like it like this.”

“You and Zixuan are twins now, huh? You cultivators. Does Lan Zhan still keep his long, do you think?”

“Dunno. Haven’t seen him in a long time. Stop it, leave it, I have it how I want it.”

Wei Ying laughs at him. “Looks good. Dignified. Hey, did you ever ask for Zidian back?”

Jiang Cheng’s face does something complicated, a little bitter. “Not gonna happen. No spiritual weapons are gonna be authorized any time soon.”

“Yeah, but it’s yours.”

“It’s not mine. It’s the government’s.”

“But it responds to you. What good does it do locked away in—”

“Leave it, Wei Ying. I know you’ve got opinions about cultivation, but I’m fucking tired and it’s not going to change anything.”

“Well, when you’re in charge. Then you’ll show ‘em.”

That does make Jiang Cheng laugh, which is satisfying.

(Two gin and tonics.)

“Hey, you’re not allowed—” Wen Ning calls from the door, followed by the tap-tap of a metal cane. Wei Ying sighs and reaches for the grenadine.

“Wei Ying, you son of a bitch.” The voice is high, reedy, and cackling. “How the hell are ya?”

“A-Qing,” Wei Ying calls mildly. “You can’t be here.”

“Where is here?” she yells, as always. “How am I supposed to know that? Can’t you tell I’m blind?”

“Get out of my bar.”

“Discrimination!” She makes her way across the room, purposely bumping into every occupied table on her way over, just to slosh beer onto the floor.

“You’re fourteen.” He has her cherry soda on the bar by the time she hops up on the stool next to Jiang Cheng, ignoring him entirely.

“And how do you know that, creepy old man?”

“You made me get you a cake for your birthday, you goblin.”

“Who’s this guy?” She takes a long slurping suck from her straw.

“My didi.”

“You—!” Jiang Cheng hates it, which is the only reason Wei Ying says it.

“Ooh, the famous Jiang Cheng. I bet he looks real grumpy.”

“Yep.”

Jiang Cheng flips him off. He grins and goes back to wiping down the drain.

“He just flipped you off, didn’t he?”

“Yep.”

“Nice.” She finishes her drink and slams the glass down. “Double vodka please.”

“Nope.”

“I drink vodka all the time.”

“Don’t care. I’m not getting fired over your sorry ass. Go drink at home.”

“I’m not allowed vodka at the home.”

“And you’re not allowed here either.” He drops the rag back into the sanitizer and leans his elbows on the bar. “Now, are you here with something interesting or just to pester me?”

Jiang Cheng looks like he’s about to interject, but Wei Ying waves him off.

“I can multitask,” A-Qing says before pushing her glass back across the bar. “More sugar first.”

“Diabetes on the rocks, yes madam.”

She takes a long slurping pull, and he folds his arms, waiting. 

“Got a new TV at the home. Real big one.”

“A-Qing, I’m waiting.”

Jiang Cheng squints at her. “How do you know how big the TV is?”

“I just know, okay. Anyway. One of the older kids got it. Bought it himself.”

“Yeah, right,” Wei Ying says. He needs to challenge her if she’s going to give him the whole story. If he seems too interested she’ll draw it out just to fuck with him.

“He did. Wen Changming.”

“A Wen?” Jiang Cheng asks.

Wei Ying rolls his eyes. “Lots of Wens in the children’s home. I wonder why.”

Jiang Cheng makes a sour face at him.

“He’s got cash to burn, suddenly. Pockets full.”

“Gee, I wonder how you found that out.”

A-Qing grins at him. “He’s not gonna miss it. He’s in the club now.”

“The club?”

“You know, the club. What do you call it? Do crimes, get money.”

“Mob? Syndicate? Criminal organization?” Jiang Cheng offers.

“So they’re recruiting at the home, that’s what you’re telling me? Is it Xue Yang?”

A-Qing blows bubbles in her soda. “I don’t know, maybe.”

“Must be desperate.”

“You do the same thing.”

“I do not.”

She holds out a hand. He sighs and passes over a couple of bills. 

“You staying there tonight?” he asks, all casual.

“Maybe. The girls are annoying. Should be nice outside.”

“Starting to get cold.”

“Not really. Only if you’re a pussy.”

“You call me if you need to crash. Here.” He drops a couple of coins in front of her. “I’ll be home after midnight.”

“Sure thing, boss,” she says, pocketing the change. She gives a little salute and hops off her stool. “So long, Wen Ning!” she shouts, walking right at him and making him hop out of the way.

She’s not really blind, of course. Wei Ying’s never brought it up—he knows, but he’s not sure she knows that he knows. One of the nights she crashed at his apartment, months ago, he caught her reading through one of his binders of old clippings—‘91, back before the start of the war, when he was still in Gusu. It kind of kills him, because he wants to ask her what she thought of them. What she remembers from back then, if there’s anything. But they don’t talk about anything serious, not if they can help it.

“Please tell me you don’t have a teenage girl staying at your place,” Jiang Cheng says. Wei Ying gives him a great sigh and grabs his rag again.

“Only when she's got no other place to go. Oh, I have a futon now! You’d see it if you ever came over.”

“Wow, great, you're thirty years old and you have a secondhand futon. Mother would be so proud.”

“I didn't say it was secondhand.”

“Wei Ying, trust me, you do not need to.”

 (Four pints.)

Wei Ying makes a face at him. “So mean.”

“It’s weird that she stays with you.”

Wei Wuxian sighs again. “Jiang Cheng.”

“It is. It’s weird.”

“If it’s a bad night at the home then she sleeps outside. I don’t like her sleeping outside, so she stays with me. When she’s not being ornery.”

“She’s a teenage girl.”

“She’s a baby.”

“Not your baby. Why would she sleep outside anyway? Yiling sucks.”

“The home sucks. Look, it’s an orphan thing. You wouldn’t understand.”

Jiang Cheng pouts. “Hey, I’m an orphan.”

“No you’re not, you’re a grown up.”

(Whiskey, neat.)

“You’re a grownup. My parents are dead; I’m an orphan.”

“Then everyone’s a fucking orphan in this country. The word’s lost all meaning. From now on, if your parents were alive when you were ten, you’re not an orphan. Find a new word, leave ours alone.”

“You’re such a jackass.”

“Jackass! Yes, that’s a good word.”

Jiang Cheng sighs and gets off his stool. He tosses cash down on the bar, though Wei Ying tries to wave him off.

“Oh, you’re going to want to get a flag up in here,” he says, off-hand as he turns to go. 

Wei Ying freezes. “Excuse me?”

“Coming down from on high, it’s going to be a new ordinance. To keep the liquor license.”

“The fuck does a flag have to do with our liquor license?”

Jiang Cheng holds up his hands. “I’m just the messenger.”

“I’m not letting the Sunshot flag through these doors.”

Jiang Cheng turns back to him, serious. “Look, I know you have your own . . . feelings—”

“Feelings?” he almost spits, spreading his hands out on the bar.

Jiang Cheng winces and does not look at them. “You have your reasons, I’m not arguing that. But Yiling’s a part of the Republic and people need to get used to it. You don’t have to like it, but your district rep is going to announce the policy in the next week, and I don’t want to see you— Don’t go out of your way to make life difficult, all right? It’s hard enough already.”

Wei Ying says nothing, just leans back and watches the rag twist and untwist between his hands.

“See you Saturday,” Jiang Cheng offers, hesitates, then leaves.

Wei Ying will close up. They close early, still, kick everyone out before midnight. Old habits. He’ll go home and work on his column, the one corner of the paper Wen Qing leaves for whatever he wants. (Literally, the column is called “Whatever.”) Maybe A-Qing will find a pay phone and call him, if she hasn’t spent or hidden the change, or maybe she’ll just show up and lean on the buzzer until he lets her in. He’ll sleep better, if she’s there. He was never meant to live alone.

And he’ll wake up tomorrow, and try to do it all again.

Part Two

[tarklesbehindthescenes]

Request: some G1!Roddy/Galvs fluff if you're feeling it. I couldn't think of anything more specific though.

With pleasure! Roddy and Gal fluff, here we go!

Word count capped at 1,688

-

It was a pleasant evening on Cybertron. Cybertronians—Autobot and Decepticon—aliens, and humans alike were all going about their business, making the roads and pathways feel and sound busy. Lights shone from the buildings, lightposts, signs, and headlights, chasing away what darkness approached with the setting of the evening sun. Among those littering the pathways were Galvatron and Hot Rod, walking side-by-side and conversing with each other.

Hot Rod was not the tallest mech around, he had come to terms with this, but he still wasn’t that small, either. And yet with how enormous in height Galvatron was, he couldn’t help but feel like he needed a boost. It would save his neck from cramping, at any rate. Speaking of cramping, there was a knot in his knee joint that was agitating him as he walked and it quickly reminded him of an event that transpired just earlier before a peace conference the two had with the newest planet that wanted to join in the trade market.

The youth paused his stride to twist and stretch his joint. “I can’t believe you shoved me down those stairs,” he griped to the giant purple mountain who came to a stop a few paces ahead of him.

“You’re still on that?” Galvatron mused with a smirk. “It’s not like it was a particularly large set.”

“Something’s caught in my joint because of how I landed! And then we had to fragging run to catch the peace conference on time!” Hot Rod reminded loudly, drawing some attention of passersby. Upon seeing the source of the loud voice, however, most went back to minding their own business with a shake of their heads or amused grins. The two mechs had been together for a good while now, and most everybody local knew how rowdy the couple was.

The Decepticon leader placed a hand on his hip. “Then you shouldn’t have kept interrupting me while I was giving Cyclonus instructions.”

“That was an overreaction!” the Autobot pouted.

“I think it was a perfectly reasonable amount of payback. Simple, small, and hilarious.”

The little sports car was about to complain some more when he heard a small grinding noise and felt his knee lock into place. “Whoops,” he uttered after a bit of silence.

Galvatron frowned. “What was that?”

“You broke my knee,” Hot Rod replied calmly, testing the joint for any give. There was absolutely none.

“I broke nothing,” his conjunx retorted. “You were the one that kept messing with it.”

“I can’t walk like this. I can’t even hobble. It’s stuck at this awkward angle.” The red and orange mech extended an arm out to Galvatron expectantly. “Gally, since you caused this, you have to carry me. It’s only fair.”

The Decepticon leader didn’t move for a moment. “I could just leave you here,” he started slowly with a grin.

“Gally—”

“But then you would just irritate someone else passing by to bring you back.” The large mech strode over to his conjunx and picked him up bridal-style. He watched as Hot Rod pointedly got settled, wrapping an arm around his neck as he crossed his locked joint over his good leg to provide it a little more support. If he didn’t know Hot Rod better, he would have been annoyed by the snooty-princess performance. But this was all part and parcel of their relationship.

This act, the banter, the antics. They found that it made their relationship a little more lively and fun. Not only did it keep them both in good spirits, but it seemed to lighten the atmosphere around them. Galvatron hadn’t noticed it at first, but once Hot Rod brought it to his attention he realized that those around them genuinely paid some mind to how the two interacted with each other. Given Galvatron’s reputation, people expected him to act cold, aloof, and perhaps abusively. And while that may have been true an age ago, Galvatron had since learned to let loose and have a little more heart with the help of his beloved. That wasn’t to say he didn’t still have a temper, but it was certainly easier to control nowadays, and now his first reaction to irritations wasn’t violence, so Hot Rod called that enough of a success.

The Decepticon leader continued walking along the pathway, acknowledging the odd civilian with Hot Rod here and there that gave them any attention. Yes, the banter and acts helped everyone around them understand Galvatron’s change in disposition much more. Now instead of wary, angry, or distrusting looks, he received much calmer reactions. They could see that he had changed himself for the better. They understood that if he ever acted in a “violent” way, it was only ever toward Hot Rod and even then it was never anything huge. A punch to the arm, a smack to the back of the head, or a shove down a short flight of stairs. All in good fun. Hot Rod usually shrugged it off and never took it as a personal slight. Or if he felt particularly childish, he’d use it against Galvatron later.

“You owe me a massage, too,” the Autobot piped up.

Like that. The older mech rolled his optics. “No, that is extra.”

“Oh, are you going to be fixing my joint, Gal?” Hot Rod asked mockingly. “Since you caused this?”

“You are so fussy,” the purple bot griped. “It was just a flight of stairs.”

“And need I remind you that I am a delicate princess? I could tell Optimus, you know. He’d set you straight.”

“He’d say you deserved it and to stop wasting his time.”

Hot Rod snorted. “You don’t know Optimus very well.”

“Neither do you, it seems,” Galvatron quipped, causing the sports car in his arms to chortle.

“I guess so,” he admitted with a grin.

The two continued on like this for several more blocks until they reached the unit they called their home. Once inside with the door shut firmly behind them, the two lingered in the entryway and took a moment to breathe. Out of the public eye. They could relax. Galvatron moved to a doorway leading to an open room. A combination of kitchen unit, living room, and dining area. He gently set Hot Rod down on the sofa and gave his hand a squeeze before straightening up again.

“I’ll go grab the tool kit,” he stated.

His conjunx smiled up at him and relaxed into the cushions. “Thanks, Gal.”

The Autobot didn’t have to wait long. The Decepticon came back in less than a minute, and pretty soon he was lifting up Hot Rod again and taking his spot on the couch, to then set him down across his lap so Hot Rod’s legs stretched across the sofa cushions. Quietly, Galvatron held the tool kit for him while the young mech got started on making the repairs to his knee.

On average, this was usually the only time of day they had to themselves where they could enjoy each other in silence. Out in public they had images to maintain, politics to get through, and responsibilities to meet. The banter only did so much to ward back the stresses of each day. The evenings in their home, though… Hot Rod hummed happily as he felt Galvatron absentmindedly run the knuckles of his free hand up, down, and over his spoiler fins. He shot a glance at the older mech. His optics were closed and his head was bowed slightly.

“Rougher day than usual?” the Autobot asked softly, not wanting to chase away the calm atmosphere in their home.

Galvatron grunted. “Just a few rogue Decepticon extremists that can’t handle coexistence,” he muttered without opening his optics or looking up.

“You’ll whip them into shape, I’m sure.”

“Oh, I’ll whip them, all right…”

Hot Rod chuckled and tried not to move too much so he could enjoy the fin stroking. After a few more minutes of silence, he tested his joint then closed the tool kit. “There. That’s that sorted.” He took the kit from Galvatron’s hold and set it on the floor.

Without opening his optics, the purple giant slowly wrapped his arms around the young bot and pulled him closer, resting his face in the crook of Hot Rod’s shoulder and neck. He heaved a tired intake before giving it a little nuzzle.

The Autobot cuddled up and returned the embrace, rubbing his digits on the back of his sweet’s neck. This side to Galvatron the two guarded jealously. It was something Galvatron figured would ruin his image so no one would take him seriously, and Hot Rod felt proud that only he was allowed to see the teddy bear that the old Decepticon could be. This was all Hot Rod’s and he wasn’t about to share it with anyone.

The two stayed in this position until the last bit of sunlight outside left, then Hot Rod spoke up. “Got your second wind?”

Galvatron rumbled lowly with thought but didn’t move. “Perhaps. Perhaps not.”

“Either way, I’m getting up.” The red and orange mech tried to pull away, only to grunt as Galvatron tightened his hold. “Galvatron!” he groaned as he continued to try and break free.

The Decepticon smirked and raised his head, his optics glinting mischievously. “You don’t need to get up.”

“Come oooon!”

“Why would you need to get up? It’s movie night. We’re all settled.”

Hot Rod fixed him with a squint. “Maybe I want some goodies to snack on. Ever think of that?”

“You don’t need them,” Galvatron said.

“I will for this movie!” the Autobot insisted. “It’s a romance drama! There’s going to be shedding of tears!”

It was Galvatron’s turn to groan as he released his conjunx. “What do you even like about these types of things? I don’t understand.”

Hot Rod got to his feet and moved toward the kitchen. “I’ll convert you one of these days. It’s only a matter of time.”

“We’re watching an action thriller after your sappy stuff!” the Decepticon called back to him.

The young mech replied with a nonchalant, “Uhhhh huh.”

[jeremy-ken-anderson]

Monster Hunter Movie

Spoilers Will Be Present.

There are a lot of things one can say about the badness of the film.

To me there are two basic issues, which interconnect: Tone and Respect.

At the core of things the studio and director considered their own brands more important than the brand of their source material. This is an understandable mistake to make when you’re thinking business - after all how would you survive as a brand if you granted primacy to other brands all the time? - but concessions must be made or else you’re just appropriating the aesthetics.

That’s what happened here. And it’s half of what made the movie a bad movie.

I went in expecting it to be real bad and as a result I was only mildly disappointed in some missed opportunities as opposed to legit incensed the way some MH bloggers are. But I do not blame them for being angry.

The plot, basically, is: Some army folks include Artemis, who you probably know is the main character because a) she’s the captain b) she’s Milla Jovovich and c) she’s the character you played as in the movie crossover event in MH World two weeks prior. They’re looking for Bravo Team when they get sucked into a dimensional rift and dropped in the land of Monster Hunter. So far so Isekai.

They encounter a Black Diablos which doesn’t act much like the monster from the games. Also a hunter played by Tony Jaa fires a paint bomb warning shot at them - It’s unclear whether he was trying to get them to leave or just thought the paint bomb would let them know they were in mortal danger.

The Black Diablos kills one of them and they run into some rocky terrain to escape.

This turns out to be the nest of roughly a thousand Nerscylla - horrible spider monsters. These kill everyone else over the course of an 11-minute, uh, tribute to Starship Troopers I guess we’ll call it. Artemis survives. There’s a 20-second sequence I thought was very good as a scene but belonged in a non-MH film, where she escapes the nest where she just watched eggs on her buddy burst with baby Nerscylla and then suddenly rips off her army gear to check herself for eggs in this frenzied panic. Seemed like both a smart thing to do and a reasonable trauma response to expect from someone.

But it shouldn’t have happened at all.

Backing it up, the 11 minutes before it shouldn’t have happened.

Nerscylla isn’t a pack hunter. They don’t grow in gigantic broods. But more than that the whole scene was...mean-spirited, and ugly.

Something that is important to understand about Monster Hunter as a franchise is that the seriousness of the stakes - the town is always under attack, or some ancient species of monster has awoken, or some new deviant mutation is driving smaller monsters into settled areas - is always, ALWAYS tempered by a fundamental directorial optimism. I think this film may be the first Monster Hunter thing where anyone dies and we see it happening. There have certainly been characters who mourned or wanted vengeance (more in the manga than the games) but that’s always something that happened before what we’re watching, and that’s really important to the tone.

Jovovich also has absurd plot armor, which, frankly, would have been fine - possibly even admirable - if they’d been adhering to the “nobody dies on screen” rule. Having someone get blasted across the landscape and get knocked out for a bit...as a player I’d have found this hilarious. As it is, there’s definitely a “why is this lady still alive” vibe that keeps cropping up because the movie’s taken a lot of time telling us that people in its setting are fragile chunks of meat that can be torn asunder at any moment.

Anyway, after all this trauma she encounters Tony Jaa and they fight. Why? Probably because he’s a martial artist and they wanted to get some mileage out of that fact. This is extremely dumb. Again, the only place where I’ve seen anything more than casual ribbing between humanoids in anything MH is the manga, and even there it didn’t come to blows. And within the context of this film these people have no reason to think the other’s an enemy and two extremely deadly reasons - the nearby monsters - to work together. Both have been presented as smart enough to know this. But fight scene. Long, stupid fight scene.

The fight nearly becomes fatal, and they realize it’s dumb. There’s another 5-10 minutes of bonding. This is fine! Jovovich and Jaa have decent chemistry (never aimed at romance, which is kind of refreshing) and there’s a really cute Demon Mode reference and also a product placement that turns out later to be a pretty cool linguistic joke (she gives him chocolate, calls it chocolate, he later uses the word chocolate to mean tasty).

They have a plan to get Nerscylla venom and use it to hurt Diablos, maybe paralyze or put it to sleep, so they can get across the dunes it’s guarding toward Jaa’s team and the dimensional storm Jovovich came through from.

The venom doesn’t visibly have any effect, which makes the whole planning thing feel wasteful.

Also, everyone’s use of the basic Alloy and Bone set of weapons gives people who’ve played MH the impression that none of these hunters have successfully hunted any monsters ever. One of the core points with the games is the loop of fighting monsters, carving them up, and using their parts to make weapons and armor you use against other monsters. But more than that, the presence of monster-armor on your npc fellow hunters in camp makes the world feel lived in, makes the people feel like part of the ecosystem.

So with a bunch of needless gore, they kill the Diablos. I actually was kind of excited that she carved a piece off of it - ah, she was going to make armor or weapons out of this near-bulletproof monster’s hide! No, she made a pallet to carry Tony Jaa, who got hurt in the fight. Then when he can walk they leave the big ol’ scale behind. OK.

Did I mention Ron Perlman’s in this film? Well he is, and while it’s a good visual match to have him as The Admiral he’s also - like the film at large - not optimistic enough. The character he’s playing is an old warrior who’s survived tons of battles and laughs in the face of danger. Perlman’s rendition is moody and serious, which once there are fight scenes is a mismatch with his fighting style.

Like I said way up top, there’s a willingness to use the aesthetics of the beloved franchise. Just not the themes. They aren’t willing to present things from a Monster Hunter Franchise perspective, because these gritty, brutal worlds are the brand of this director. When the franchise he was working with was Resident Evil, gritty, gory brutality was a brand match and the resulting film was one of the better video game movies out there (yes, I know that’s not a high bar). Here, it led to a movie with a lot of visually beautiful work but a tone that seems directly disrespectful to its source material.

So that’s a problem.

I said the tone made one of the two big problems. The other would be an issue even if I knew nothing about Monster Hunter, which is a series of structural flaws in the direction - mostly around the pacing of the film.

Army opener, fine. Trying to set up rapport. Diablos fight, too long. Nerscylla scene, WAY too long. Jaa-Jovovich fight, WAY too long. Bonding scene, fine. Planning to fight Diablos, too long. Diablos fight, fine. Jaa’s desert near-death experience, too long (didn’t need to happen at all). Jungle region, a little long but not bad. Rathalos encounter, fine. Ship scene, exposition dump, long and also boring. Rathalos fight...

The Rathalos burns two hunters to death on screen. See above, this is bothersome. It’s also chucking people across the landscape. Jovovich gets tossed into a portal back to earth.

Also off a cliff. We’re back to the “how’s she alive?” problem. She gets rescued by the army, they start to take her for treatment, the helicopter is attacked by the Rathalos.

For a tonal mismatch this is probably the best scene. I think this idea, very Reign of Fire, is what the director really wanted from the film. MH monsters in NYC, Lagiacrus attacking surfers from underwater, all that. We couldn’t afford those sets, so we get a dragon attacking army toys in a desert.

Dragon wins. I honestly appreciated the sale of how a dragon could win this engagement. I think the direction and editing successfully created a scene where the army losing the fight felt plausible.

Of course, this makes Jovovich and Jaa taking it down feel a bit much, but okay.

And we finish with what amounts to a tease of the idea of a series. I don’t get the sense that this is a genuine appeal. I think the “idea of more fights” is the ending. It doesn’t work, mind you, but this has become a kind of trope for one way to end a video game movie.

The thing I like least about this trope is that to hype up the audience the characters in the film all seem suddenly excited to be engaging in the activity we’ve been shown to be terrifying and deadly for the whole film. NOW they think it’s fun.

And that’s an extra layer of disappointment, because it indicates that we could have been having fun this whole time, if the director weren’t obsessed with brutality.

[handthigh]

Soooo I may or may not have gone crazy and gone stupid and wrote a whole ass one shot fanfic of Tianshan in the office AU

ETA: this is now also available at AO3! (ETA 2: This is now a multichapter fic!)

Big thanks to the people over at Tianshan discord for taking a read and giving me the feedback. The fic follows right after this paragraph, with notes at the end of the fic.

He Tian (Work):

Little Mo, pass me a stapler (6:35pm)

Frowning at the message notification, Mo Guan Shan wordlessly takes the stapler lying on his desk and wheels his chair out of his cubicle to pass to his next door neighbour who grins upon receiving the stationery from the redhead. The reciprocity is not returned however, as Guan Shan wheels back into his cubicle to complete a report the supervisor had dumped onto him 15 minutes before the time he ends work. It is already bad enough that he is working overtime on a Friday while being the only one stuck with He Tian, the last thing he needs is for the annoying colleague to interrupt his progress.

The report turns out even more taxing than expected, further souring Guan Shan’s mood. He glanced at the time displayed on the laptop, “6:55pm”. Great, the report’s barely done and closing time sale at the nearby sandwich shop is already over. So much for a “quick task”, he scoffs bitterly at his supervisor’s words.

As if He Tian can read his mind, comes another text:

He Tian (Work):

Little Mo, are you cursing out the boss in your head again? (6:57pm)

Damn it, not another interruption. Glancing at the new message, Guan Shan cringes at the accuracy of the guess. Guilt quickly turns into irritation however, as he glares at the cubicle separating him and the culprit of these messages. This has been going on for about 3 months now, ever since he was assigned to be seated with He Tian at the corner of the office. The reason? The supervisor claims that only the short tempered Guan Shan is immune to the raven haired’s hunky looks while workers of all genders in their department are too busy admiring He Tian to work productively. Guan Shan tries to suppress his gag upon the memory.

First of all, Guan Shan does not appreciate being called short tempered. He just has little patience and a lot of irritation for mindless small talks and forced formalities, that’s all. Second of all, seriously? Of all words, hunky? While Guan Shan admits that He Tian is a looker because after all, he has eyes; but that is certainly an exaggeration. Sure, He Tian has the physique and face for the magazine covers, but he’s not that good looking. Especially not when he assigns Guan Shan that stupid nickname and constantly texts him for no justifiable reasons despite already repeating many times that he only wants to reserve the texting to a minimum and keep it strictly to work matters.

Wait, what the fuck? Why is he thinking about him again? Ugh, this is why he emphasises on keeping social interactions to a minimum! The report and the constant texting must have really gotten to him, because the next thing he knew, Guan Shan picks up his phone and types at his source of annoyance.

Me:

Yes, genius. Since you’re so smart and volunteered to OT with me, why don’t you make yourself useful and help me out with the report then you chicken dick! (7:05pm)

Normally Guan Shan tries to keep his temper in check, wanting to believe he is no longer the moody middle school boy that he was. Besides, this is the first job he managed to get right after graduating university 6 months ago, just in time before the recession. Thus, he is not trying to screw up an opportunity just because he got involved in some petty office drama. However, the combination of working overtime, growing hunger and unnecessary buzzing of his phone followed by He Tian’s unnecessary messages is making Guan Shan throw both caution and formalities out the window. 

He is not the only one surprised by his own outburst however, as He Tian guffaws and rolls his chair out of the cubicle to meet the redhead, currently glaring at him and asking what’s so funny.

“Chicken dick? What kind of insult is that? Also, I dunno, I just thought you’d never asked me for help.” He Tian replies with a shrug and his signature grin.

He Tian is not wrong - Guan Shan seldom asks for help, believing that it’s better to be self-sufficient than to rely on someone else. Furthermore, it allows him to avoid having to keep up with forced interactions with others. But it’s getting late and the report doesn’t seem to be finishing soon, and there is someone in the office right now, might as well right?

“So are you going to help me or not?”

“Sure, anything for you Little Mo~”

“Stop calling me that! Give me your email, I’ll share the document with you on the cloud.”

So, here they are at 7:30pm, working in a shared online document together - cubicle to cubicle. Guan Shan mainly typing out the content of the report while He Tian formats, elaborates and adds any figures and charts where appropriate; explaining his rationale to the other while he works.

As Guan Shan sees the report transform before his very own eyes, he is now confronted with the thought he’s been trying to will away for 3 days, ever since he overheard the company executives discuss whether to promote He Tian. 

As much as he hates admitting it, He Tian is talented and hardworking when situations call for it. Not only is he able to easily handle the tedious formatting that is typically required of such reports, he also goes the extra mile of further perfecting any tasks assigned to him. It also helps that he has great social networking skills to accompany his equally great looks, not only charming the other coworkers around them, but also clients and other company staff alike in network events. 

Attempting to ignore the ache of admiration growing in his chest, Guan Shan wonders why is someone as good as He Tian working at an entry level job like him in a medium sized company when the latter can easily negotiate for a much higher salary in a conglomerate. What he heard about his raven haired coworker isn’t helping much with his curiosity either.

While Guan Shan prefers minding his own business, he also doesn’t live under a rock. He has heard the rumours - that He Tian had interned for various big names while he attended an Ivy League business school and graduated a valedictorian. He was also rumoured to be taking over his family’s multinational company branch in China while his older brother gets based overseas to look over their international branches. Yet somehow, here he is, working overtime in a too small cubicle with an aloof coworker who has nothing to boast for. After all, Guan Shan’s resume mainly consists of mediocre grades in a local university that is far from being a C9 League, one proper internship experience and multiple part time odd jobs to help him pay his student loans. 

He Tian has everything going for him, and yet, why? Guan Shan is so lost in his own thoughts that he does not notice an arm reaching out to his laptop and folding it down, clasping his fingers that are resting motionlessly on the keyboard.

“Ouch! What the fuck?!” Guan Shan stands up and yelps in shock, spinning around to glare at the culprit. This proves to be a mistake as he realises he is face to face with He Tian, barely an inch away. 

Suddenly, the room feels hot and all Guan Shan can hear is his heart rapidly beating in his ears as he sees a totally different expression from the latter: lips twitching up, high cheekbones raised making them even more pronounced, coupled with a pair of grey eyes sparkling and curving in childish amusement. Even though he knows that He Tian is laughing at his expense, somehow, Guan Shan could not bring himself to break eye contact, wanting to look as long as possible until he commits He Tian’s genuine smile to memory.

“Earth to Little Mo, I said I was done with the report and had emailed our supervisor, and was thinking of treating you to a sandwich as a thanks for your effort.” He Tian replies, amusement laced in his voice as he breaks the silence.

“...How do you know I like…” Guan Shan dumbly replies, still feeling overwhelmed by the close contact to even retort He Tian as he feels his face getting even hotter.

Breaking eye contact, He Tian steps to the side and fishes out his car key, hooking the key ring to his finger. As much as he finds his flustered colleague both amusing and endearing, he makes sure to give Guan Shan some space in case the other gets too stunned and passes out. “Well, who else in this office eats those except for you? So what do you say, it'll be my treat and I can drive us there.” He Tian says as he leans back on the cubicle wall, spinning the car key around.

“.... Uh… mm” Guan Shan nodded, feeling too light headed to speak properly.

“Let’s go then.” He Tian steps out of the cubicle, making his way out as he turns off the office lights.

Guan Shan’s mind is reeling as he follows He Tian from behind. Why is he suddenly reacting like this? Why did he agree to have dinner with him? Most importantly, WHY IS HE SUDDENLY HAVING SUCH THOUGHTS OF THAT ANNOYING CHICKEN DICK?

God, he hates working overtime.

Notes:

If you made it here, thanks for reading! I’ve been wanting to write a fluffier, slice of life office romance with Tianshan for quite awhile now - an AU with no mafia drama, no She Li being a creep, just coworkers dicking around and relatively normal problems here and there. I only committed after getting reminded of this official Tianshan art by Old Xian on the discord. Aside from 19 days, I also draw inspiration from a webcomic called Senpai ga Uzai, Kouhai no Hanashi. I’m a huge sucker of slow burn fluffy Tianshan where Guan Shan is initially annoyed at He Tian and slowly and reluctantly falls for him. Hehehehehehehehe *continues to laugh in fujoshi*

Not going to lie, I do feel nervous posting it. However, after seeing many Tianshan fics (they are good! don’t get me wrong) that doesn’t have a workplace AU, I thought I’d manifest it onto the internet space! Do let me know what you think, as I am considering expanding this into a multi-fic once I stop being lazy. 

[lovingcollectivedeer]

ReIgnite Reviews (GetReIgnite.com) Weight Loss Supplement

Reignite Reviews – An Effective Herbal Remedy For Sheding Excess Fat! Or Just Another Scam?

If you are fed up with the awful results of all the fad diets and extreme workouts that you tried one after another, sparing a few minutes with me might help you. Because I am going to unravel this revolutionary supplement in detail, as I will get you the right idea about the Reignite formula, benefits, working, pricing, customer reviews, the expected side effects, and the rest of others.

So let’s go straight to the Reignite Review without wasting much time, as you need to know if Reignite supplement is a smarter choice for you.

An overview on Reignite supplement

Reignite pill is a 100% organic, vegan, and effective dietary supplement that is made to induce a healthy weight loss in obese and overweight people.

It is actually an encapsulated formula composed of the purest and highest quality plant extracts and compounds in clinically proven quantities. It is derived from a Himalayan morning routine which is followed by people who live in regions below Mount Everest. It is an authentic herbal remedy that is powerful to bring desirable changes in extra body weight by enhancing mitochondrial health.

Ingredients used in Reignite supplement

As I said before, the Reignite pill is derived from a centuries-long Himlayan morning routine, which is actually a tea made of pure herbal ingredients. And this is the secret behind the incredible fitness, focus, and energy that is enjoyed by sherpas who live near and around the bottom of Mount Everest in Nepal.

Here are some of the key components of this secret formula.

Kucha Tea: Kucha tea contains a compound called methyl libertine, which is effective to stimulate the release of two enormously powerful energy neurotransmitters known as epinephrine (adrenaline) and nor-epinephrine (nor-adrenaline). Together they increase energy, focus, alertness, and liberate fatty acids for energy. Kucha tea has a protective effect on mitochondria and accelerates the metabolic rate.

Apple cider vinegar: this ancient remedy acts as a mitochondrial supercharger because it is full of malic acid to perk inside the mitochondria. It is also effective to suppress appetite, which makes it easy for you to stop eating. If you add 1-2 tablespoons of apple cider vinegar to your diet, it will be enough to reduce your body fat percentage significantly.

Citrus Bioflavonoids: Citrus Bioflavonoids benefit to lose weight as taking them will actively boost the metabolic rate in you. Besides, it will give you all the energy needed for maintaining a healthy lifestyle, especially for following a proper workout routine.

Ginger and turmeric: together, ginger and turmeric make a perfect combo to directly target fat burn. Taking Them daily will give desirable changes in the body, as well as a better feeling of satiation. Moreover, you can enjoy other benefits with it like suppressing fat tissue growth, regulating sugar levels, and reducing inflammation rates.

Nigella Sativa(black cumin): the active phytochemicals in black cumin speed up the process of weight loss, and reduces the levels of cholesterol. The use of black cumin is multiple, so it can be a single remedy for an array of other health-related issues as well.

How does Reignite supplement work?

Reignite pill works to promote healthy weight loss by enhancing your mitochondrial health. The mitochondria in your cells are energy-producing batteries. No matter whatever be your body structure could be, it depends on the dynamics of your mitochondria. It also controls your body’s ability to create energy out of the food you eat every day.

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[snowflake-of-destruction]

So in Give it Form, you've touched on it a bit in reply comments, but while Sora is with the HB Gang, what's going through their heads? Their thoughts, their feelings? A perspective we won't see in the fic (or at least not for a while).

This is a wonderful, though provoking question that I saw late, but don't let that make you think I appreciate it any less. It's always exciting to talk about If You Give It Form.

So let's think about this a moment. I’m going to get a little long here so, let’s do a read more. I’m also going to tag some others who might have an interest in this, though if you don’t, then no obligation to even read. (ALSO SOME  CHAPTER FIVE SPOILERS)

@complicatedandstained @anewarise @soraaly 

Yuffie

Yuffie's thoughts and feelings surrounding Sora are self-centered, and there's nothing wrong with that. She has the least compassion for him and his destiny overall, or even regret for getting off on the wrong foot because 

1) They are close in age, so she sees a peer instead of thinking "oh he's so young to have such a weighty destiny." Plus, nobody ever cut her breaks (in her mind) so Sora shouldn't get coddled

2) Radiant Garden fell when she was relatively young and young memories are further blurred as a body defense mechanism against trauma. Refugee life on Traverse Town is what she knows, and that's a life where you see new people with new baggage and hear of new worlds falling and people dying on the regular. It's a life where you adapt and you struggle to grab what you can, and a place where nothing is ever really yours unless you make it so and you occupy "claimed spaces" like the waterway.  This means Sora is "wrong" for both fixating on the past and for acting like Yuffie targeted him. Yuffie doesn't target people as much as filter them out so she doesn't risk catching pesky guilt feelings. Sora should respect her hustle and she gave him his stupid necklace back when he became a person instead of just a vague defined shape transporting valuables. 

3) She did feel a little bit guilty, but then Aerith (Aerith!) started pressuring her to apologize--and both her own emotions and being "bullied" into being sorry as the new guy "tries to drive a wedge between her and her friends before he's even said a word"  make her mad. 

So she feels free to be a brat to Sora and it would have started a cycle of them just being brats to each other. At the same time though, Yuffie wouldn't have any teeth in her opinion of Sora as a brat with a chip on his shoulder. Her moods change as quickly as the wind, and she would also be trying to joke around with Sora all the time and under the assumption they are friends...until he says something that ticks her off or he proves he still not over the whole "tried to mug you" thing (like, get ooover it) and then they are sworn enemies for approximately five minutes.

She'll be genuinely disappointed when Leon returns from Olympus without Sora, but vocally scoff "Who needs him?" and half mean it because she only truly buys into this keybearer savior rhetoric because it is what Aerith and Leon buy into.

Aerith

Aerith knows Sora's importance. She doesn't just hope like Leon or Cid. She doesn't consider that Sora may just be the holder of the key for now. She sees Sora and she knows she's looking at the savior or destroyer of the worlds. It's weighty stuff, especially since Yuffie and Leon already made a bad impression on the boy in the first meeting. She, in true Aerith fashion, decided right away to keep her certainty a secret. Knowing won't be helpful to anyone else. Aerith is certain of that too. Is she right? Is it just hubris? That's up to interpretation. She definitely had a little bit of blind pride thinking she could smooth things over with Sora, though not as much as the others have on her behalf. She knows she's not infallibly charming or even successfully manipulative. She saw that Sora agreeing to stay with them was a victory in technicality only. She tried to be sincere with him after that first meeting--not that she was ever technically insincere in the first place--but it is a difficult balance because why she does think Sora is a charming young man and wants to give him the friendship and show him the understanding and compassion he deserves, they do badly need him on their side, so there can never be true objectivity or selflessness. Moreover, he needs to pushed at a certain pace if there are going to be worlds left to save and they all want to live to see them restored. Beyond that, Aerith is also the only one who, at this early point, fully realizes that there is reason to be scared of Sora not just scared for him. She is going to be besides herself when Leon comes back without Sora, but bury it down, only letting out a sigh and saying he's in fate's hands not and they have to trust in his heart to guide him, because she does believe in Sora's good heart, even if she didn't get a chance to know him as well as she would like.

Cid

This man only wants to keep his family together. He isn't sure about this keybearer because he doesn't want to be sure. He had some of his explorer heart and spitfire nature crash and burn upon exit from the falling Radiant Garden though he doesn't show it outwardly.  There's a reason you never find him in the coliseum. If it were at all practical, he'd keep Cloud, Leon, Aerith, Yuffie, and Sora all on Traverse Town with him. Yuffie would take over the accessory shop. Aerith would have a flower shop. Leon and Cloud would be working with the displaced refugees with Aerith on consult. Sora would be his assistant and they'd make a fleet of gummi ships for different clients and occasions. Cid is a practical man though. He knows what needs to be done and he's already let go of all of them...though it doesn't make it easier, especially after what happened to....well, we'll get to that (kind of) in Leon's section. He won't be seen for days after Sora leaves and then he'll come out with a gummi blueprint of a ship shaped like a crown, drafted in slightly shaky lines like it was drawn while drunk. Also, on a different topic, I think he does know how shady Ansem the Wise was, but you've got to believe in some heroes in life, so he wills himself to discount it.

Leon

Leon is a series of traumatic backstories stacked on top of each other, held together by belts, and pretending to be cold steel. He's a little bit more well-adjusted than FFVIII's Squall "If you want someone to listen, go talk to a wall" Leonhart (And, granted probably a little less well adjusted than what is seen in canon Kingdom Hearts) but he is a man constantly on the edge of a breakdown and repressing everything, and he expects everyone else to be the same, and, moreover, requires it to a degree so he can continue to function.  He's either an orphan, or, if he embraces the "far out" theory that  Laguna Loire not only is his father, but is actually a keybearer who disappeared because he ran off planet...which, hold everything for a detour, IS CLOSER TO KINGDOM HEARTS CANON THAN YOU THINK

Laguna Loire was supposed to be a stranded keyblade wielder in the mirage arena in BBS. but was cut from the game, and there are sources on this, though this is all I was able to recall on a moment's notice.

The more you knoooow.

Anyway, KH Laguna Loire is a keyblade wielder and a deadbeat dad. That's a fact.

So, yeah, if Leon admits Laguna might be his dad then he admits his dad maybe ran out and didn’t want him (Is the truth more nuanced than that? Duh, but we aren’t talking about that now). Here we have Squall Leonhart. Abandoned before he was even born. Sister abducted to be experimented on. Considered unadoptable because he was a feral problem child. One person he was close to (Seifer) died when Radiant Garden fell (so he thinks).  And then there's Rinoa.

 If you missed the implications about Rinoa in chapter five, let me spell it out for you. 

"Cid, Cloud, Aerith, Yuffie, Rinoa, and I were the only survivors of Hollow Bastion." Leon was firm, perhaps for his own sanity. "Now there's even less."

Rinoa died an unspecified time after Radiant Garden's fall.

Then there's this quote from Hades and Maleficent's later response.

"Remember what happened to the last one? We got back an Angel Star and a Bad Dog and what does that get us? Zilch!"

"The case was..." Maleficent hesitated a moment, trailing a finger in an absent repeated ring around the top of the bulb of her staff, " different with the sorceress."

I'll not comment, but have some pictures.

We'll get to how long Rinoa survived on Traverse Town, her relationship with Leon, and the circumstances of her kidnapping and subsequent death later on in the story. Fun times.

Come on. You know I had to do it. I was originally going to not have Rinoa or have made her die on Radiant Garden, but, think about Kingdom Hearts 1 canon. Yuffie still accidentally calls Leon "Squall" which implies his name change of shame because he can't protect people and his wanting to die was fairly recent, not nine years ago when RG fell, and people are still adjusting to it. I had to sprinkle on extra flavor.

So why is this all relevant to Leon and Sora? I'm glad you asked.

Like I said, KH Leon/Squall is not FFVIII's Squall "Hell is Other People. Prove Me Wrong" Leonhart that needs to be defrosted throughout the game. He has a found family he accepts and has to admit cares about him, so he's closer to the Squall at the end of FFVIII but he still is stilted and has the mindset that everyone you love will leave or die, so the least painful option is not to care in the first place--especially since he thinks Sora is going to die 100%. Hell, he would be sure he was going to die if he was the keybearer too, which is partially why he wanted the keyblade. Go out fighting the 1000 Heartless Battle.

But he has to befriend Sora, not just train him, and it's painful, especially because Sora requires a lot from people as much of a giver as Sora typically is too. Sora wants to crack him open to see he's not just machinery and it's painful (and it reminds him of Rinoa "I wish you would just voice your feelings, Squall. How else will the people you care about know them?" Heartilly. Whoops). He has to prove his sincerity and niceness to this guy who had the nuclear family and the friends and the peaceful life and was trying to escape, also the boy who was chosen to have the keyblade, also a boy who can't accept that sometimes you just have everyone die on you and though it shatters you, you have to move on and realize they aren't there to look for. 

Terrible. Yet Leon tries so hard and fails....and blames himself for failing. 

And though he should resent Sora a bit, mostly he's just sad for him too. But Sora is the chosen one and he needs to toughen up so the worlds don't eat him up.

He really hopes Sora is going to be okay, and that it wasn't all his fault Sora is leaving...though it probably is, he thinks. Failed at this too.

[mrs-ella-laufeyson]

Taking Back the Endgame

Pairing: Loki Laufeyson x reader

Warnings: ANGST (one swear word), and a happy ending

Words: 2k

~Thank you to @adventurousbooknerd for requesting this! It was so much fun to write! Requests are always open!~

Request: Idk if you are taking requests but can you do a loki x reader in which the reader is still mourning loki in endgame & she time travels with tony and steve and as soon as she sees loki she decides she's bringing him back?

You’d been mourning Loki’s death for years, as if it were just yesterday that he had died at the hands of Thanos himself. As luck would have it, you were there to witness his last breath, and, in doing so, you could’ve sworn you were taking yours as well. The feeling of watching the life slip from the one person you had always loved was enough to send you over the edge. Something inside of you died that day as he took a part of you with him to the other side of the unknown.

After that, you were never the same. Steve and Natasha watched over you at the compound, noticing a significant difference in your diet. You and Loki used to snack around all the time - your favorite sweet treat being sour gummy worms. After he died you couldn’t bring yourself to eat them anymore, much less anything else. Thankfully your weight had stayed the same, surviving on mostly water just to keep what was left of you alive.

It had become a routine for you to remain in your bed clothes for days on end. What was the point? You weren’t trying to impress anyone. Your will to live had vanished, and all that was left of you was a dark, hollow, shell. Every evening was spent curled up in bed, rereading all of Loki’s favorite books, and watching all the movies the two of you had loved so much. As much as it hurt to do so, it hurt worse to consider moving on. The thought making you feel as though you were leaving his memory behind.

At night, Steve or Natasha would always come and check on you, bringing you food and demanding you eat at least a few bites before they’d leave. Sure, the company was nice, but you preferred to spend your time alone. They never understood what you saw in Loki, which is exactly why they had expected you to move on so quickly. When Steve brought you your food that night he came baring more than just a burger and some fries, but an idea that you had wanted absolutely no part of.

“Come on, Y/N, I think it’d do you some good!” Steve persuaded, trying to make it sound all butterflies and rainbows. As if that would make it any better.

“I am not going to some stupid group therapy where you all sit around in a circle and talk about your feelings.” You scoffed, throwing a temper tantrum like a two year old child.

“I’m just saying that it might help to hear what other people have gone through. You don’t have to talk, just listen,” he promised. There wasn’t a doubt in his mind that you’d take a knife to the throat before you ever got emotional in front of a group of strangers. “Plus, you could use a little sunshine, you’re starting to look a little pale.” He teased, patting your leg before getting up to leave the room.

The next day you found yourself in a room full of less than ten people, all sitting hunched over in metal folding chairs. Most of them looked just as rough as you, but you knew their lives weren’t half as bad as yours. Sure their families disappeared into thin air, but they didn’t have to watch them take their last breath and know that they were gone forever. You would never be able to erase the image of Loki’s last finally moments from the darkened depths of your memory. Thanos had made sure to singe that picture into your mind for eternity. Forcing you to replay it over and over again in your head as you laid in bed alone at night. No one there to comfort you, or pull you from the horror that was the past.

It all came flooding back in an instant. The way his eyes pierced yours, looking for a way out, but knowing this truly was his end. Silently begging you to help him escape, and being forced to face the reality that was death. Watching the light fade from those beautiful emerald eyes that you had gazed into more times than you could ever know.

His voice rang through your head again, “I love you,” was the last words he had never had a chance to speak. Gulping for air, and finding nothing, he was forced to use his powers to communicate them into your mind where they had been engraved forever along with the memory of him.

This was all too much, like pouring salt into an open wound, and, without warning, you’d started to sob, feeling the way your heart ached to be with him once more. You took off out the door, and into the dimly lit hallway where you were met by Steve who had pulled you into a tight hug.

“Shh, you’re alright,” he attempted to soothe you as you continued to tremble against his body.

The mental shock of being so torn open to the past must’ve captivated you completely because when you finally opened your eyes you were lying in bed with a cool rag across your forehead. Natasha was relaxing in your lounge chair, and you were sure she’d been the source of the damp wash cloth.

Upon noticing the way your eyes began to flutter open she’d hopped up and placed herself at the end of your bed where she greeted you with a smile. “How’re you feeling?” She asked, and by the sound of her voice she was genuinely concerned.

“Like I could hibernate for the rest of the year, but that’s normal,” you assured her, sitting up as you started to feel a little better. The look in her eyes said that she wanted to talk about what had happened, but she knew bringing it up again might start another relapse.

“Steve told me to let him know when you woke up,” Natasha stated, giving you a once over to make sure you were okay to be left alone. Deeming you stable enough she got up and went to find him.

Within minutes they were both back, but there was a look on Steve’s face that said he was unsure of how he should word what he was about to say. “Y/N, something happened today after we got back,” he started, easing you into this slowly. “Scott Lanning is here again.”

Your eyes grew twice their size, and you were probably looking at him as if he were stupid. “How is that even possible?” You questioned, wondering what could’ve caused something like that to happen.

“His machine brought him back, and we’re thinking that maybe, possibly, with Tony’s help, we might be able to bend a few rules to create time travel.” He finished as if he was simply talking about something as easy as making a paper airplane, or riding a bike.

“Do you realize what you’re saying?! We could bring everyone back!” You shouted excitedly, mind immediately taking you back to Loki where you were finally given the opportunity to save him and start all over.

“Not everyone...” Steve corrected, already knowing what you were thinking. “Something like that is just too much. It could disrupt everything, Y/N. We’re simply bringing back the ones that Thanos took away.” Just like that he’d regretted that sentence by accidentally choosing the wrong words.

He had never seen your mood switch so quickly, and, if he weren’t mistaken, he’d have thought he was looking directly into the eyes of Loki himself as you glared daggers at him. “Of course,” you hissed, feeling your blood begin to boil. “Because Thanos never took anything from me.”

Steve took a slow step back, choosing his words carefully this time. “You know that’s not what I meant,” he added. “We’re not even sure if this will work, but I thought that, in the odd chance it does, maybe it would give you the opportunity to go back. To remember the good times, and see yourself the way you used to be.”

In the end, he and Nat gave you almost no choice, but to go with them, refusing to leave you in the compound alone after your little meltdown. Which eventually lead to meeting up at Tony’s cabin, and your eventual trip back to the compound once again.

After succeeding to create time travel, everyone prepared themselves for the jump. For the first time in a long time you actually felt kind of excited, but, of course, you would never admit it.

You were to be extra help to Tony and Steve, your one job to stay alert in case either of them needs your help in the off chance that something may go wrong. It only took a split second for the room to spin, and for you to find yourself following Tony as he carried you with him up to the floor where the past Avengers had assembled.

There, in the midst of them all, was Loki.

Tony’s eyes immediately shot towards your own where he noticed you staring at the God of Mischief intensely.

“Y/N, stay calm,” he reminded you, bringing your thoughts back to the task at hand. But it was too late. This was it. You’d be damned if you were to leave this timeline without him.

Without warning, you see Thor slap something over Loki’s mouth, shocking you back to reality once again. Loki’s eyes meet yours for a split second, and if you hadn’t been so close to him before you would’ve assumed he was just gazing around the room. No, he had noticed you. Tony was oblivious to the small action, continuing to concentrate on the mission while you were silently coming up with your own plan.

Thinking on your toes you’d distracted Tony with a promise to go wait downstairs for Steve, briefly explaining that it was too hard for you to be in the room with Loki after everything you had been through. Thankfully for you, Tony had bought right into it.

The guards uniform that he had provided you with left you virtually unnoticed by the Avengers as you remained hidden in the hustle and bustle. You noticed Loki glancing in your direction when he got off the elevator, seeing you come up behind him. The slightest of smirks splayed across his lips when Tony fell and the suitcase busted open, sending the tesseract soaring in his direction.

It stopped at his feet where you latched onto his arm, watching as he bent over to pick it up. The two of you disappearing in a cloud of blue smoke together. You appeared again in the last place you’d ever imagined - a hidden entrance to Asgard.

Unable to restrain yourself any longer you wrapped your arms around him, sobbing tears of joy for the first time in years. His laugh was muffled by the Asgardian device that covered his mouth, and you helped him out of his shackles.

“Lady Y/N, what in Odin’s name are you wearing?” He laughed after you’d uncovered his mouth, observing your guards uniform.

“Mind helping with that?” You giggled, wiping the tears from your eyes. In a puff of green smoke your attire had immediately changed into green Asgardian clothes that complimented Loki’s.

“Now, I do believe an explanation is in order, pet,” Loki furrowed his brow, awaiting your response. There wasn’t enough time in the world to explain everything that had happened, but you were more than willing to take every second you needed because, in the end, all that mattered was that he was back.

After everything that had happened you were able to hold him in your arms once again, and you wanted nothing more than to rest your head against his chest and listen to his heartbeat for the rest of your days. Life had given the two of you a second chance, and you knew in your heart that you would never take it for granted.

[winnerloser]

idk who needed to hear this today but 

if you use fanart for anything, you give credit for it.

usually i would just implore you guys to at your own discretion but. 

i think sometimes people forget that if you use fanart without explicitly asking for the author’s permission, that's stealing. but obviously no one has ill intent behind it with this hobby, which is why crediting is important. it’s the least you can do.

it doesnt matter how much you use the fanart. even if it only appears on your blog once. even if it’s just a throwaway icon for a gag. even if you replace the icon with new icons from somewhere else. if it was on your blog at some point, and you don’t intend on deleting it, and it’s still on there, you give credit for it.

there’s maybe some leeway if you commissioned the art and/or the artist already cosigned you to using it without giving permission. but that’s the only special instance i can think of.

in that same vein, please just look on artist’s profiles to see if they allow reposting in the first place. if their account says no reproduction/no reposting/DONT USE MY ART.... don’t use it. if the bio is in japanese, chinese, korean, whatever- google translate it. i know google translate can suck but it’ll easily convey what you need to be looking for. 

if you’re one to think that you don’t want to use source media like screenshots or mangacaps because fanart is prettier, don’t ignore the fact that the people providing you the luxury to do so are just that- people, who spent hours to draw what could amount to just one or two icons. who could’ve drawn what you were using as a commission for someone else. who more than likely posted the image without any idea what you’re using it for-- more importantly;

without any idea what you’re using the image to represent, what messages you’re trying to convey- with their image. the fact that the subject is a copyrighted character/isn’t theirs doesn’t change the fact that the drawing in and of itself is still their creation.

it would behoove you to start keeping tabs of the sources you intend to pull from. if you see a piece from pixiv you think you’ll consider pulling from- pluck it, save it, so later when you open photoshop you’re not sitting with the pulled image thats titled computer jibberish with no artist’s signature.

YOU KNOW WHAT? i’ll go you one even better than that.

When you save an image from pixiv - this one for example, by default it’ll save it as 78827921_p0_master1200.jpg.  78827921 is the image ID. https://www.pixiv.net/en/artworks/78827921 will take you back to that image. Plug in any other ID, and it’ll go back to its source. There you go. Easy if you accidentally forgot to keep tabs.

nobody is entitled to the usage of another person’s art, and if you use the excuse that [just by virtue of OP posting it on the internet, it’s free gain], that’s bullshit.

if you post anything- even a text post or roleplay thread- going by that same logic, anyone should be allowed to reblog it, remix it, go to town on it; it’s on the open internet, after all... right? No. you’re entitled to security in the things you post. you don’t really need to say “don’t/ask to reblog” in the tags for people to get the hint to not or ask first if they feel inclined to. if you believe you’re entitled to that comfort and respect, i don’t see why that mindset can’t be translated to fit the situation of artists. even if you don’t give a shit how your stuff gets circulated, at least try to look at it in the way that not everyone is you.

and not everyone is me, so some may be wondering still why they can’t just go ahead and do what they want so long as they’re not hurting people/keeping it lowkey. i mean, at the end of the day, there’s nothing i can do about it either. you can totally do whatever you want, im not denying that. but just know that you’re not 100% in the clear from getting discovered by somebody. you’re not impervious to being found. and reposting/art being used or transformed without credit or consent is a very real reason that artists get upset or even sometimes lock their profiles, delete, or stop drawing/posting, or stop making their art publically available. this is NOT just a western philosophy. asian artists do this just as well- hell, you could even say that some are even more stringent about etiquette when it comes to treating their works with respect. that includes reposting policies.

if you’re too tired/busy/lazy/forgetful/cursed to credit, that’s 100% not an excuse lol. or if you’re thinking, crap, i have all these nicely done assets that i’ve created but it’ll be too difficult to go back and retroactively find the sources!

idk what to tell u but tough titties bro thats a you problem*

uh, so to end this:

再版ポリシーが破られている場合は、お知らせください。すぐに画像を削除します。このブログから利益を得ることも、失礼することも意図していません。再版は許可されているが、クレジットがない場合は、お知らせください。修正いたします。ありがとうございます、失礼します。

如果违反了您的转载政策，请告知我们。我会立即删除图像。它无意从此博客中受益或无礼。如果允许转载，但信用不正确，请告知我们。我会马上改正的。谢谢，不好意思。祝好

this is in my credit’s page at the bottom. i can’t vouch for the japanese, but i can say with more certainty that the chinese is legible. if someone is better at japanese and has any adjustments they’d recommend, please do so! it’s just saying that i don’t intend to cause harm or disrespect by borrowing the artwork, and that at any of the artists’ discretion, whether i’m violating their repost policy or not, they are urged to reach out to me and tell me to remove their art if they don’t want it on my blog. feel free to snatch it and use it for your credits page, or write something similar in lieu of that. i’m 100% in support of that.

please be conscious and considerate of the people who work hard and do a good deal of the heavy lifting for you to be able to make your blog pretty and aesthetic in the first place. i think the bounty of beautiful and high-quality art for the pokemon fandom- or for any popular fandom for that matter- sometimes makes us forget that it isn’t a commodity. it’s something that when taken for granted, can genuinely affect others who work hard to provide content for people to enjoy. at the end of the day, they do this to make themselves and others happy. seeing others take that work without any acknowledgement to them is demoralizing, don’t think that they’ll get enough recognition from others to compensate for you. that’s frankly not how posting art on social media works at all.

i mean, even if this doesn’t convince you, i can only hope it’ll spur you to be more conscious in the future. 

*i get that things happen and this isn’t meant to shame you if you happen to be one to do any of the things other than credit. but know that you don’t... really have an excuse when there’s so many different options, shortcuts and alternatives available to you. you don’t really cite from a shitton of different sources for your paper and then go back to pick through every individual quote to find where it came from to avoid plagiarizing. you just.. make a note or works cited. it takes like, 15 extra minutes. if you’re going to spend hours on photoshop or writing fancy infoposts, you can spend an extra 15 making a works cited.