#which I repeat was ALMOST FINISHED PRODUCTION

[themidnightcircusshow]

I think the most worrying thing about 1899′s cancellation is that it firmly proves our worst fears about the state of streaming now that we’re going into 2023. 

There were many concerns about The Sandman not getting renewed. It all seemed so ridiculous-- it was the biggest show in the world. How could it not get renewed? Ah yes, it was the biggest show in the world, but that might not be enough. Then, of course, it got renewed. Why wouldn’t it? It was the biggest show in the world. 

1899 was not the biggest show in the world. But it seemed to be a successful show. There were people watching it. Interestingly, it was the show that I heard the most buzz about in the wild-- a lot of popular shows you only hear about in fandom, but this was the first time in a while that just random people in the street were mentioning a new show. It reminded me a lot of Ozark in that way, because even though the show seemed very quiet in its internet presence, it had a lot of viewers. 

A lot of people are comparing 1899 to the first season of Dark to explain why it failed to get renewed. But what they’re failing to take into account is that Dark came out in a very different media landscape. So did the first season of Ozark. And the first season of many shows that fit this ‘silent viewership’. And that is why-- based on observation only, because Netflix never has and probably never will release viewer metrics-- I believe that if 1899 had come out a few years earlier, there would have been no question about it being renewed. 

Because the streaming world of 2022 is profoundly different to that of 2017. Rings of Power had to make more than $1 billion to break even. Avatar and it’s sequels have a similar unfathomably lofty goal in order to make back their budget. And let’s not get into the shows on HBO Max. It’s a conflation of an increasingly bloated film industry with a television industry that is back to only being interested in short term gains and not long term investment. It’s 2014 again, and we’re watching the streaming equivalent of shows being cancelled because their viewership isn’t in the coveted Nielson Bracket. It’s not that they aren’t making money-- it’s that they’re not making enough money.

For shows to be renewed in 2022, they have to be the biggest shows in the world. 

And unfortunately, while it was successful, 1899 was not the biggest show in the world. 

[lucabyte]

obligatory ramble about postcanon loop ask

also your art is amazing

Hiiiiiiiii :D thank you :)!!

and thank you for the excuse to post the. just absolute wall of text that i truncated down to form the tags of that post. (i did,,, hit the tag limit. i forgot tumblr had one of those...) so let me just paste that and tidy it up a bit...

I am putting this under a readmore because it's a bit long. but:

This is like. The General Context for all* of my postcanon doodles? (Except AUs obviously) Like this is the base idea I've been drawing them all in. So, feel free to backread with this in mind. I've basically had this 'postcanon' timeline set in my brain since finishing the game...

My general thoughts are that I like the idea of Loop (even if through dubiously ethical means) being able to slowly reintegrate with the party as a whole new person, because they are, in fact, their own person.

It's a muddle of thematic threads im pulling on and "wouldn't it be fucked up if", but. (at its core, it's powered by the fact that like, while narratively isat's theme of 'the only person who can truly take the first step to help you is yourself'. (wrt: loop helping the party help siffrin in act 5) which i LOVE AND IS GREAT NARRATIVELY…. would be super fucked up irl to learn that your friend 'learned as a lesson' while you stood by kinda uselessly. I know i'd be upset about it. but thats mostly background here. doesn't really come up. at least not until loop has to explain who they are and the party realises they had to fall back on literally themselves again for help, but i digress,)

The real core concept is: Occam's razor. It is like, inherently, a buckwild thing to accuse a person of being somehow a clone or copy of your friend. Even if they start vaguely alluding to a backstory it's far more likely they were some other person before all that. (I still think Odile has that theory in the back pocket but she's rational enough to know it's a really long shot without a solid explanation. and i think Loop deep down knows this, and would, if cornered into confessing, turn the situation around to go J'ACCUSE and make HER explain it instead. Ever longer dodging being direct with their emotions...)

And the party are nice! And if someone has changed and wants to keep stuff secret it's kind of not their business? (Though it's hard not to speculate… see: the main joke of the doodles) And they seem important to Siffrin so they just try to accept them abrasive quirks and all. And eventually the question of their prior identity just fades away since, well, they're Loop. Their friend Loop.

but yeah. personal headcanon is that a few months/weeks after picking up and getting aquainted with Nille** (since that was presumably the IMMEDIATE TASK postgame), Loop reappears (either after a literal period of nonexistance, or just spending a few months wandering the french countryside alone being attacked by wild dogs). Since Siffrin has had a while to be therapised by the party they're doing mostly okay, but Loop showing up and still being agitated/aggressive pulls them both into a bit of a backslide behaviourally and puts the party on the back foot again.

Hooowever, I do think that due to no longer being literally stewing in the worst pressure cooker of all time together, the two do mostly actually sort themselves out with productive conversation. (Via a cycle of: genuinely distressing argument -> weeeird lovebombing -> ok we're good -> repeat, that gets less intense over time)

Thus, allowing the party to just. Integrate loop as a new person. They and Siffrin shuffle into different ecological niches (Loop taking over stuff Siffrin is now too squeamish for, etc (see: hunting, mostly)), and while it's not exactly what Loop wanted they generally get that beggars can't be choosers and it's a pretty good deal. And the rest of the party does straight up just like them as a friend, especially when Loop quits trying to actively antagonise them after a few weeks of being around them, since they just can't keep up being mean to people they like forever.

As for how I think the truth eventually drags itself out. This is where I invoke The Isabeau Torment Nexus™. So its gonna get shippy here for a bit hold on.

Which is, I think giving them time before Loop reappears long enough that Siffrin and Iseabeau actually manage to become established, Isabeau has to be the one to nudge the pair of them and go. "Hey. You know we're in Vaugarde right. I'm okay with polyamory if we all communicate." Before Loop and Siffrin actually even acknowledge that whatever the fuck they have going on kinda looks a lot like a relationship of some kind. (or have already been agonising about that via fighting and arguing, depending) (Obviously this comes after Isa "Emotionally intelligent enough to keep a lid on the jealousy" Beau has managed to use that big brain of his to Not just go Scream somewhere on the daily because oh godddd they keep talking like theyre suicide-baiting each other jesus chriiist. is it overstepping his boundaries to bring that up?? god)

This, taking a bunch of the tension out of Loop and Isabeau's relationship (Since I imagine Loop is a. being weird for the obvious reasons and b. feeling kinda guilty about 'getting in the way of' Siffrin and Iseabeau), allows them to actually get close in a normal friend way. (I think an interesting turning point could be Isabeau actually taking Loop's side in an argument vs Siffrin, which would absolutely break Loop's brain. Especially if it's an argument that matters. Like what do you mean he isn't just going to play favourites. What?)

Then Isabeau, just actually open minded and charmed by Loop (and maybe even somewhat at Siffrin's suggestion?) tries to close the final open side on the polyamory triangle here and that's the final straw for Loop on "This lie by omission is too unethical to keep up, this is just actually sick and wrong. I can't do this while he doesn't know who I am." Though. Obviously it probably goes. Very poorly with emotions high like that. And the added element of several months of deceit. Getting dark here for a second but that dagger is going MISSING and so are THEY for a hot minute.

Then yaaay everything works out in the end 👍 yippieee!! all it took was maybe a lot of harrowed recontextualisation of all the weird shit your new friend said and did when it turns out they're your old friend. It's fine.

But yeah. this is basically the context all of my postcanon doodles have existed within? And those exist to give other people something to chew on. So this does too.

I suppose TL;DR: Imagine if sloopis almost fucking happens before isabeau knows who loop is. can you fucking imagine. can you imagine having to navigate that. nightmare.

*Yes this includes the implied cannibalism comic. Uhh. Comes part and parcel with headcanoning that Loop went way off the deep end similar to A5 Sif But Maybe Worse before giving in. Add weepy half-asleep confessions to murder wherever you see fit in your mind palace. 👍👍👍

**Re: Nille footnote. I don't have anywhere to put this besides here! I have some thoughts on Loop and Nille having an odd dynamic. I don't imagine Nille to be super gung-ho on trusting a bunch of adults (even if they are majority around her age) given their implied backstory. It's probably a big shock to the system, especially since Bambouche is a good couple hundred Kilometers up north from Dormont and these guys don't seem to have trains. She would've been unfrozen and without Bonnie for some time....

Which is to say: I think she's suspicious of them. I think she may be looking for excuses to distance herself, keep Bonnie safe. SO.... A new guy showing up? And antagonising the party? What do they know that I don't...? I should find out.

And since... Loop didn't ever know Nille, they have no ammunition or real reason to be cruel. Plus, if they're trying to stay on Bonnie's good side (SINCE... if Bonnie thought Loop was cringe they may as well kill themselves. In their mind.) they SUPER have no reason to antagonise Nille.

Mostly, they might be able to open up to each other easier than they can the rest of the party?

I feel like this resolves with Loop feeling compelled to apologise for what they and Siffrin let happen to Bonnie, though... Hmm... Depends on how you interpret Nille that they'd be glad nobody else had been told about that yet, or furious it had been secret this long. I lean toward the former.

[quixoticanarchy]

Finished reading Cobalt Red by Siddharth Kara and he does a good job showing how the cobalt supply chain is inextricable from incredible human suffering, near-slavery, rampant exploitation, environmental devastation, and child labor. And it’s very clear that no promise a tech or battery manufacturer makes that their supply chain is clean means literally anything bc industrially and artisanally mined cobalt are mixed into the same supply untraceably. And the book also covers the fact that cobalt supplies are finite and when the DRC’s cobalt is exhausted the industry will move elsewhere, rinse and repeat, and the people in the Congo will be left with the ongoing and unremediated -maybe irremediable - damage. All of this so that we can have smartphones, electric vehicles, iPads, electric scooters, almost anything with a rechargeable battery.

It’s also clear that the tech and battery industries are interested in good PR and making empty statements about human rights when they should be taking responsibility for the working conditions of small-scale miners (and minors) dying at the bottom of their supply chains. What Kara doesn’t really address is the demand side of this equation, not just the demand by companies whose products use cobalt-containing batteries but also the consumers sustaining that demand, who buy every new smartphone and eagerly pin their hopes on electric vehicles to let us keep our car-dependent world without the fossil fuel guilt. The book takes it for granted that cobalt will be required in high quantities for consumer electronics and for “green” tech, and to some extent this is true - as in, none of those demands or uses will cease overnight and in the meantime we should worry about how to address industrial and business practices and government corruption in order to treat Congolese miners as human beings.

But it feels incomplete without also asking questions like: should that demand continue? Can it? Do we need this many devices? What costs are acceptable? Can we really have our cake (smartphones, EVs, etc) and eat it too (slavery-free, non-exploitative supply chains that don’t kill the people at the bottom and lay waste to the environment)? What if - as the book would seem to suggest - we really cannot? If one goal of the book is for people to realize what conditions underlie the extraction of cobalt, what action is then incumbent upon us? Personal consumer choice will not undo all this harm, but it is a necessary step in rethinking or attempting other ways to live. Is it a right to have a smartphone, a new one every year or two, if it comes at the price of other people’s human rights? At what point do we say that it is not an acceptable cost that the extractive industries are perpetuating neocolonialism and near-slavery in order that we should have comfortable lives?

We know we have to stop relying on fossil fuels or we’ll burn down the planet (to a greater degree than is already locked in) but the “green energy transition” is not clean at all. Capitalism seeks the lowest price for labor and the highest profits; obviously these extractive relationships owe a lot of their horror to being conducted in a capitalist milieu. But even thinking about, say, a socialist world instead, if it aspires to still provide smartphones and electric vehicles en masse and maintain the comforts and conveniences of the “Western” lifestyle then we would still be relying on massive amounts of resource extraction with no guarantee of less suffering. The devices are themselves part of the problem. The demand for them and the extent to which “modern” life in “developed” countries relies upon them is part of the problem. It is unsustainable. It is built on blood and it makes a mockery of purported values of dignity, equality, and human rights. The lives of Congolese cobalt miners are tied to how we in the “developed” or colonizer countries live and consume. I do not think their lives will change substantially unless ours do.

[w2soneshots]

20vs1 -W2S

words: 1.3k

warnings: none.

summary: you are asked to be on the sidemen’s 20vs1.

Liked by sidemen and 901,452 others

y/username: guess what I'm filming today🤫

-comments-

y/nfanpage21: ooo I'm excited to find out❤️

user30781614: SIDEMEN LIKED OMFG🤭

-> user91368481: y/n x sidemen ahh!!!

A month ago... "Rach!" I shouted through my apartment. "Ye?" my roommate Rachel shouted before appearing in my doorway. "Do you know who the sidemen are?" I asked her. "Yes, they're massive on YouTube, why?" She replied plonking herself next to me on the bed. "They just asked me to be in one of their videos." She shot upright "what! Did you say yes?" She asked excitedly. "Umm, I haven't replied yet, are they weirdo's?" I asked since she knew of them. She laughed aloud "no I don't think so." she said with a giggle. "It says they want me to film a "twenty versus one", what's that?" I said flipping my phone around to show her the email. "That's a series, they do, let me just show you." she grabbed the control and flipped on my tv.

That night I went through a rabbit hole, researching these people. I wanted to make sure they weren't creeps before agreeing to be in a their video. They had a pretty massive following and there videos were entertaining. I eventually decided it'd be fun so agreed to be in the video. When I told Rach she was ridiculously excited.

Today is the day of the shoot. All I'd been given was a location and a time, so I got up early to get ready. I took a shower, dried and straightened my hair, did my makeup (adding extra powder so I wouldn't shine in the studio lights) then got dressed into a black, tight play suit, an oversized denim jacket and some black four inch heeled boots. Once I was finished I sprayed myself with my favourite perfume, grabbed my bag and left my apartment.

After a 30 minute drive my uber finally pulled up outside the filming location which just looked like a large building. I thanked him and slid out of the car. Just as I was walking towards the front entrance I was greeted by a woman who said her name was Tanya and that she was the head of production. "She seems nice" I thought as she led me inside. She brought me to a green room with multiple other women, and a table with drinks and food. I sat down on one of the chairs. "wait, are you y/n y/l/n?!" One of the girls asked me. I nodded "yep, that's me." I replied with a light smile. "Omg I love your vlogs!" She announced excitedly. "Thank you!" I said appreciatively.

Almost 20 minutes later all twenty of us were taken through into a small hallway, and formed into a queue. I was sixth and when it was my turn I walked out and stood on the marked spot on the white floor. "Hi, how are you?" I asked who I learned from my stalking was Harry. "Not great to be honest." he replied, clearly not enjoying this shoot. I laughed slightly "just breathe." I said breathing deeply in and out. He copied my actions and did the same. He smiled "yes." he said, flicking his hand towards the door then I heard a cheer from another room. "Thank you." I said politely and walked off the set.

Ten minutes later everyone was sent back into the room and we all stood in an oval shape facing the camera. Then Harry walked in and greeted us "hello everyone, I said yes to way too many people so if you don't like me please- leave." he chuckled then turned around to face the camera. Five people left leaving nine of us. Harry opened his eyes and turned back around "I'll take that, I'll take that, I'll take that, I'll take that," he repeated quickly "thank you very much. alright, I'll see you shortly, I guess." Then he left and all of us were taken back to the green room.

I sat there for well over two hours waiting, since I was the last one. Once it was finally my turn, I was taken back to the studio, by Tanya. "You'll do great!" she said with a light pat on my back just before I entered the room. I was reattached to a mic and then told to sit down on the comfy looking chair. Harry entered a few minutes later and I stood up to greet him with a hug. "Hello again, sorry you've been waiting so long." he said politely, before sitting down. I smiled "no problem." He took a breath in "so what's your name?" "y/n." I replied. "And what do you do?" He asked. "For fuck sake I hate this question" I thought. "I do YouTube." I replied. His eyes lit up slightly "oh, what kind of videos do you make?" He asked, sitting forward in his chair. "Vlogs, beauty stuff, outfits, that kind of thing." I said counting them on my fingers. "Oh cool." he said with a nod of his head.

The date lasted just under 15 minutes. From the video Rach showed me it seemed that these weren't just normal dates but it felt completely normal to me... actually in the other video there was one date where the man was just told to be himself, so maybe that was what was happening. We talked about what both of our favourite movies were, we found out we both lived in London and when I asked if he was into football he explained that that was what his YouTube channel was based off, along with an online game to do with football.

Once the date finished, we hugged goodbye and he left. Then I was asked two questions by the main camera man: what I thought about him and if I would go on another date. "I thought he was a really sweet and seemed interested in our convo. I will definitely go on another date with him." and as I said those words, I heard in eruption of cheers in another room, which Tanya had now explained was the other members of the sidemen watching the dates. I laughed slightly then stood up. I quickly had my mic taken off, then went to collect my things from the green room. As I was grabbing my things Tanya popped back into the room to ask me something, "the boys were just wondering if you could come and see them so they could thank you for coming." she asked. I smiled "of course."

She took me through a corridor, and then down a smaller hallway and into a room. There was a group of boys stood up in front of around six TVs that I assumed they had been watching the dates on. "Hey, nice to meet you, thanks for coming!" who I knew to be JJ said putting his hand out for a handshake. I shook his hand and said "thank you for having me." They all introduced themselves to me and we stood talking for a few minutes. Just before I left I heard my name "y/n!" I turned around to see Harry stood in front of me "I was just wondering... if it was okay with you, I could get your number?" he asked. I smiled "sure." He passed me his phone I typed my phone number in. "there." I said, passing his phone back to him. "thank you." he said with a sheepish smile. I waved the other boys goodbye before I left the building.

The next day, I got a text from Harry asking if he could take me out on a "second" date, and obviously I said yes.

[chaoscharme]

Self Care Activities that Actually Help

My list of practical, achievable and useful self care tips that will actually improve your mood instead of enabling you to wallow.

Reply to your correspondence

Often if we feel low or our motivation is down, we find it tricky to respond to messages and calls from others. This allows unopened messages to pile up which creates stress and even panic. Instead of trying to ignore this problem, set a timer for 15 minutes. Then give yourself those 15 minutes to respond to as many of those messages as possible, starting with the most urgent messages first. If you cannot complete all the messages, take a minute to reevaluate. Can you give yourself another 15 minutes to finish the task today? If not, that’s fine. Assign the task for tomorrow, and repeat the process when you feel refreshed. If you are not able to give a thorough response to all of your contacts, I recommend drafting a universal message to send, stating that you are currently occupied and you hope to offer them a more appropriate message over the coming days. You can tailor this message to suit your needs and circumstances, and it reduces the amount of pressure on you to offer explanations for your absences.

Wash your clothes

Take the clothes you are wearing off. All of them. Strip your bed. Gather up any towels or tea cloths you can find. Wash them all. I cannot overstate the benefit of living in a clean environment, and wearing clean clothes. Even if you can’t wash everything, wash the essentials, and make sure you are wearing fresh clothes from head to toe. You can swap pyjamas out for more pyjamas, what you wear doesn’t matter. Just make sure they’re clean.

Water

Drink a pint of water with nothing added, no fruit, no cordial, nothing. Just drink a pint of water in one sitting. You are almost definitely dehydrated, just like everyone else. Hydration provides mental clarity, energy, and even relives stress. It reduces pains and aches in the body. It helps quell nausea and heartburn. Water is the quickest and easiest way to reduce physical pain or discomfort throughout the day. By keeping hydrated, you’re improving your quality of life almost instantly.

Stretch in bed or on the sofa

The last thing most of us want to do when we feel low or unmotivated is going for a run, or working out at the gym. Instead of pushing yourself to get a serious or intense workout in, try some stretches you can do from the comfort of your bed or sofa. Stretches will help relieve tension in the body and can increase your energy throughout the day. You don’t have to do anything crazy, just a couple of simple, effective stretches will do the trick.

Eat a “healthy” carb

People so often try to avoid eating carbs as they think carbohydrates are inherently unhealthy. This is simply not the case. While carbohydrates are often used in the production of unhealthy treats such as cakes, cookies and pies, they are not fundamentally bad for you. Carbs are our main source of energy, and if you’re feeling low energy is exactly what you need. Try eating a healthier alternative to those instant sugar rush carbs, such as rice, wholemeal pastas or breads, potatoes or oats. You can add other ingredients to these meals, such as berries to oats or some veg to pasta, to make a more filling meal. Everyone eats differently, but we all need carbohydrates in our diet to provide energy and nutrition, alongside other food groups. Creating a balanced diet is much more important than eating “healthy” all the time. Respect your body by fuelling it appropriately and regularly.

Clean yourself as best you can

Have a shower. Take your makeup off. Brush your hair. Clip your nails. Put deodorant on. Brush your teeth. Wash your hands. You might not have the energy for a full “everything shower” but you can probably do one of the things listed above to make yourself feel better about yourself and your hygiene. Don’t berate yourself if you’ve gone a while without practicing any of these for a while, life can be pretty difficult. Just accept your current situation and try to better it as best you can with the energy you now have.

Please reach out to a trusted person or a qualified professional if you feel you need extra support for any reason. You are not alone and you do not need to suffer in silence. Support is there.

Mwah, Chaoscharme

[gyusimp]

Happy Birthday to me!

I finished what I had to do for now, and besides, I was feeling horny enough to write some smut! My birthday was 2 days ago, but here is the fic I planned to post on Feb 1st. The idea was thanks to @whisperhug97 so thank you very much for your suggestion, enjoy! 💜

⚠️WARNINGS: NSFW | Explicit content | Canon Gyutaro | Smut content | Hard s3x | A little kidnapping | Prostitution? (Just reader saving her own life) | MINORS DNI! | Read at ur own risk

You were broke, the job you currently had had caused you so much discomfort that you simply stopped coming without telling anyone. You made that decision lightly in a fit of fury thinking that soon someone else could employ you. You lived in the Entertainment District so sooner or later your skills with traditional makeup might come in handy, in a couple of weeks you'd be hired. But it had been 6 months since you lost your job and you needed the money more and more.

You got small tasks to do around the neighborhood but nothing completely stable, you only had to take care of getting money to pay the rent for your room and something that would take away your hunger during the day. You began to lose weight, the desperation of not knowing how you would survive the next day eating away at your brain until you were forced to take drastic measures. You knew someone at the Kyogoku house, where you worked temporarily some time ago, and you asked them to do you a favor. You tried to work as best as you could during that period to qualify for a permanent position but the Oiran Warabihime was too demanding and difficult to please so when you finished the agreed time they simply opened the doors for you to leave.

The plan you had now was difficult, even more so because it would have to be executed outside the eyes of the almost white-skinned girl. If she ever found out, you could imagine her tilted head looking at you with contempt and fury. Fortunately, you got the lady of the house to lend you a considerable amount of money to pay this month's rent and buy some products that you could resell to generate a little money that would help you stay stable for a while. Sales were good, but the time it took to recover the amount borrowed would not come from one day to the next and after 3 weeks, people from the Kyogoku House would knock on your door to collect the money borrowed. You explained to them a thousand times that you were still recovering it with your sales, but the same situation was repeated over and over again until 3 more months passed and the news reached Warabihime's ears.

Annoyed, she decided that you should pay one way or another, what did you think you were to steal like that with the money she earned? The next debt collector did not knock on your door, he simply entered through your window next to a long piece of fuchsia fabric with floral designs that wrapped your entire body with the necessary force to immobilize you and lose you in its folds. Everything was dark, the feeling of being swallowed and suffocated completely within the density of an unknown tunnel accelerated your breathing horribly, squeezing your eyes, you lost track of time. You didn't know if it had been hours or even days, you woke up feeling tired and with stiff joints, you tried to scream but your mouth was gagged and your eyes were blindfolded. Your waist and under your breasts were tight with something as were your hands and arms up, leaving you kneeling on the hard, dry ground. You were kidnapped, you didn't think this situation would get out of control but you should have assumed it was someone else's money.

Raucous laughter filled the room as you began to move, trying to get out of the grip of the fabric that pressed against your body.

"You look so pathetic, it's useless, any attempt is ridiculously useless." It was a male voice, shrill but hoarse at the same time, which made you feel chills down your spine. You heard barefoot footsteps approaching you, when you felt a hand pull your hair to shake your head mockingly. "Do you really think you could fool my sister? You poor stupid bitch!" He laughed again, carelessly removing your blindfold, messing up your hair.

Your vision was cloudy, not to mention everything was a little dark, but as your eyes recovered, you managed to make out a tall man in front of you, hair greenish and messy. Although he was quite strong in his arms and chest, his rib bones were visible above his thin waist. Inky black spots painted his face and body in a way never seen before in your eyes. The fear and uncertainty of what would happen now was killing you and you felt like very soon you would really be dead.

"I will take care of collecting every last cent with your blood, I will make you wish you had never set foot in this world..."

The man was approaching you menacingly, with a kind of bloody sickle in his hand while he grabbed your chin with the other. Your eyes were tearing and your mouth was sobbing under the gag, your terror of death was enormous, there was nothing more that scared you in this life than a slow and painful death and this man was willing to give it to you, but you were also willing to do anything to avoid any suffering. "Let me take this from you, pretty...I like hearing human screams as they watch me tear their stomachs open in front of their eyes." The man moved a hand and the gag in your mouth slipped, leaving your sobs uncovered. Your heart was beating non-stop and your soul was almost leaving your body when you watched the man's weapon rise above you.

"WAIT WAIT!! PLEASE WAIT!! I HAVE SOMETHING TO TELL YOU!!" You shouted desperately, catching his attention. Usually the boy never listens to the requests of his prey, but seeing a young and pretty woman like you so vulnerable before him, made him curious about what you had to say. He stopped his murderous movement and let you talk.

"Fast." He ordered. This was your chance, you had to do anything to save yourself, anything no matter what. You tried to calm your breathing and cleared your throat.

"I know I owe a lot of money to this house, I wasn't avoiding anything, I just couldn't get it at the agreed time." His yellow eyes stared intimidatingly at you. "I know I have to pay but I don't want to do it with my life...could it be...another way?" The tone of your voice changed drastically on the last sentence, still concerned but you managed to sound needy and agitated, in a sensual way. As you finished speaking, you looked the man straight in the eyes as you slowly opened your legs on your spot. Waiting for a response.

He didn't say anything, he just stuck his sickle into the ground and crouched in front of you. Your reaction worried you. But it was unpredictable when he started laughing madly.

"It's the most pathetic thing I've ever seen! Completely pathetic! Are you seriously willing to offer me your body so I don't kill you? To let someone as disgusting as me fuck you to spare your life?"

You didn't act on impulse, you had already slept with a friend in exchange for favors a few years ago so you were willing to do it if your life was at risk. The man approached you, his right hand went straight to the collar of your kimono to pull it down and leave your breasts almost completely exposed, making you gasp. This boy was not stupid, since he saw you you seemed attractive to him and he would have eventually taken you by force if his sister had not demanded that he kill you immediately, but since you were offering yourself, he was not going to waste the opportunity.

"W-What's your name?" you asked. He hesitated a little before answering.

"Gyutaro...why the fuck do you want to know that?"

"To know whose name I must moan and beg for more."

A smile formed on your opponent's face, but not just any smile, it was a dark and selfish smile, full of lust and mockery. With a single movement of his hands, Gyutaro made the obi around your body loosen to open your clothes and admire your naked body under your kimono, two other pieces of cloth adhered to your thighs to lift your legs and keep them open. It seemed like he was able to control that flowery obi.

"The amount you owe is very large girl, your payment will be according to that."

Gyutaro approached you, you could see the large bulge that had quickly formed between his legs under his pants, he moved his face towards you and began to lick and suck your neck vigorously making you moan as you felt his hot and wet touch. He continued with your shoulders and collarbones while massaging your thighs vigorously until he brought one of his hands to one of your breasts, squeezing the fat roughly making you moan loudly.

"Do you like it, you little slut?" He said, looking at your entire blush but you were nodding frantically.

"Y-Yes...continue."

Gyutaro squeezed both of your breasts, massaging your skin and positioning himself between your legs, he pulled down his pants and let his erect, wet tip rub sloppily against your lips and your wet center. His smile widened when he noticed your back arch slightly as you felt his member on your clit, making your juices begin to wet it. His hands squeezed harder until he left red marks from his fingers on your tits, your nipples were hard and rigid under his touch so he couldn't help but bend down and take one of them between his teeth to play with it and stimulate it with his tongue. He had his eyes fixed on your body, reveling in your soft but needy moans as he sucked and scored you hard. Your arms were still, bound tightly by the obi over your head, suppressing any urge to tug on his hair to signal him to continue.

The moment Gyutaro opened your labia with two fingers and started playing with your clit with his thumb made you close your eyes and tilt your head back.

"Aaah!! Yes, there, there Gyutaro....k-keep touching me there mmmhh..."

His touch continued and sped up, his short nails sliding between your hole making you clench and buck your hips. You felt the obi on your thighs move to spread your legs wider and you looked down immediately when you felt Gyutaro's tongue wrap around your clit, playing with it between his teeth, looking at you with a lascivious smile. The sight of him wedged between your open legs, with your pussy in his face and your face between your two breasts showing off your hard nipples was priceless. With his two thumbs, he took your lips and parted them to highlight your bulge between your wet and slippery folds, to fuck you needily with his tongue, making your hips stutter and your knees bend even more. Your taste was incredible, he had never tasted anything like it.

Gyutaro continued licking and sucking each of your folds while you melted between moans and obscene pleas to want to cum.

"AA-AAHHH!! Gyu-taro-oo-aaah! So, keep it up...you fuck me so good, so good! I wanna cum, I wanna cum...would you like me to cum now? Over, all over your face? Aaa-aaah- that I covered your mouth with all my orgasm?" You said, moving your hips up, bringing your pussy closer to him.

Gyutaro looked at you and wiped the remains of your juices from his chin before speaking. "Of course I would...but I would like more to feel you covering my cock, honey."

Gyutaro immediately got on his knees and without thinking twice he spread your legs wide open and spat on your pussy in a contemptuous manner, and then entered your hole without warning, in a single movement. You moaned loudly and obscenely when you felt his length pass through you, you could intensely feel how your walls stretched to try to take his size and contracted back around him to suck him hard. You knew your pussy was doing a good job when you saw him moan and curse, tilting his head back.

"Fuck...mmmhh, what a good cunt..." Gyutaro said, thrusting into you again to get deeper.

He loved the way you were moving and how submissive you were being underneath him. Gyutaro started touching your tits again as he bent down to suck your hard nipples and make you moan. His body trembled as your hole surrounded him tightly, so tight, making ropes of cum begin to leak into you, approaching his orgasm. That sensation led him to move faster inside you. It wasn't being so bad after all, you could be screaming and dying from the pain, maybe you wouldn't even be alive anymore, but now you were safe, being fucked by a demon but at least you were screaming in pleasure and not pain. This man had something special, you knew he was very dangerous but that idea was only turning you on even more, and even more so seeing yourself in this situation. You looked down and could see your open legs and lips receiving Gyutaro, watching your clit outside of you being pressed against his cock with each of his thrusts, hitting your most sensitive spot again and again until you were completely wrapped around him and you began to move vigorously, making your breasts bounce on you and letting all your juices come out on him, bathing him with your orgasm, forming a thick, white ring around his penis, dripping between your legs.

Gyutaro couldn't help but smile at having that thick, wet feeling on him, which led him to cum almost immediately the moment your walls clenched intensely and you milked him completely. Gyutaro covered you with his seed from the inside out, making you feel wet and slippery from the hot, white liquid poured into you, leaking out little by little through the folds of your center, arching your waist.

"AAAHH G-GYUTARO!!" You moaned, almost screaming. Your hips continued to move almost instinctively until he was satisfied and stopped using you. It seemed like he would never get tired but little by little his pace slowed down until his breathing calmed down.

"W-what...what's your name?" He asked.

“Y/n…” you answered tiredly.

"Well, Y/n, your debt has been settled..." At that moment Gyutaro pulled out of you without warning, making you moan as you felt his member rubbing along your walls until the exit, leaving you wet and empty beneath him.

The obi that was restraining your arms and legs was completely removed from your entire body, leaving you free. You thought Gyutaro would finally let you go or something, but instead of doing that, he grabbed your kimono and took it off completely. Even though he had just fucked you relentlessly, you noticed that his erection was not disappearing, actually, his tip was beginning to leak as he ran his fingers over his slit in a dirty way in front of you looking at your body. "But the interests are still missing..." he said, laughing with desire and taking your arm to turn you around and hover over you like an animal in heat.

Gyutaro inhaled your scent and began to rub his tip on your ass, pressing you to the ground. He would make up a valid excuse for his sister later, informing her that you were his new toy and she shouldn't kill you.

[outro-jo]

writing a song with skz

pairing: skz x reader

type: scenario

warnings: none

a/n: please read info befor requesting! 🩵

masterlist | info

——————————

chan- you held the album in your hand and stared at it, frozen in time and space. now, yes, you’d held over a dozen stray kids albums in your hands before but none of them were quite as special. chris came up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waste and tucking his chin into your shoulder. he was silent solely because this was your moment, he just wanted to be apart of it. you slowly lifted the lid off the box and dug through the contents. normally the only thing you wanted was to see which photocard you wanted but you let it and some of the other loose contents fall on to the table as you went for the lyric booklet. you flipped through to the page that read “Under the Moonlight”, tracking through the lyrics in both korean and english until you got to the credits at the bottom. tears brimmed in your eyes as you read your name. not only did you help write the lyrics but you helped chris with the production which meant your name was there twice. “i did it, chris.” you whispered as the tears fell down your cheeks. chris hummed in agreement and pressed a kiss to your temple. “you did it, baby. i’m so proud of you.”

lee know- you didn’t even realize he was home. minho had just finished a long day of practice and recording when he came home and found you standing at the kitchen sink washing dishes. he was almost on his way to the bedroom when he noticed you humming something as you cleaned that had him stop in his tracks. slowly he turned around and walked towards you, careful not to distract you. he silently reached for his phone and hit record as you repeated the melody again. you were so immersed in your work, you had no clue of anything going on until minho was right next to you. suddenly you screamed sending the dish in your hand and his phone flying as you scared him right back. “lee minho!” you scolded him with a hand to your chest trying to regulate your breathing. “i’m sorry! i’m sorry! you were just humming and… did you write that?” he asked. “write what?” “that melody. the song you were humming.” “oh… i mean i guess. i’ve always kinda hummed it when i’m walking or working. it’s just a mindless little tune. i’ve kinda built on it over the years but, yeah.” you explained. minho thought for a second before asking, “do you care if i use it?” your eyebrows knit together in confusion. “uh, yeah, sure. it’s not like i was gonna use it.” you chuckled and went back to dishwashing. in an hour, minho had constructed a full song, using your tune as the chorus and had it sent to chris to start production and get verses from the rappers. you had no idea the song you made up as a child would ever be a hit for your popstar boyfriend. 

changbin- everyone knows that changbin wrote all his own raps but chris and jype had decided that this comeback was going to be in all english. this song wouldn’t be a conversion from korean so it had to be written in english from scratch. he was sitting in your living room, listening to the crude beat chan had come up with just for him to get an idea of the flow but the writers block was settling in. changbin was trying so hard to get it right but was struggling. nothing was working and he eventually tossed his headphones on the coffee table and threw his head back on the sofa with a groan. his curls were disheveled on the top of his head from the way he was tugging at them. hearing the faint groan from the back bedroom, you came in to check on your boyfriend. “what’s wrong my binnie?” you asked with a kiss to his cheek, taking a seat next to him. “i’m frustrated.” he said. admittedly he’d come a long way with learning english and having a partner that was fluent in the language helped, but he still had challenges. “let me see what you had.” you said in korean to give him a little break. it wasn’t bad actually. you read over the lyrics and they were impactful but you knew he probably would have liked a bit more word play. changbin laid back, staring at the ceiling as you put his headphones on and listened to the track. you started with what he’d written so far but the words just kept flowing out of your mouth. his head shot up and he watched you in your own little world, head bopping to the beat and words flying. “yah!! i didn’t know you were a rapper!!” he cried out. you giggled and pulled off the headphones, “i’m not really. i liked writing poems growing up and i have a kendrick lamar obsession. i don’t think that qualifies me to be a rapper.” binnie ignored you and tapped the notebook still in your hand. “write it down, please.” he was adorable. suddenly with his creative flow unlocked, you were able to help changbin write the verse he needed and earning yourself a writing credit on the next album. 

hyunjin- he didn’t mean to find it, honest he didn’t. he was rifling through the top shelf of his closet looking for something chan had given him when he knocked the notebook off the shelf and it landed open. normally he wouldn’t look through it, he understands creating art and it being something personal, so someone looking through it without permission could be pretty upsetting for some. hyunjin just couldn’t help it, the page was already open when he lifted it up. he read through your lyrics and they were so beautiful. “baby, food’s rea—“ you stopped in the doorway of your closet, looking between him and your old notebook. “hyunjin, what…” “i’m sorry, baby, it fell open, i promise. why didn’t you tell me you wrote music?” he asked. “oh, i mean, it’s not that good. i did poetry in high school but it was like weird and angsty.” you laughed at yourself. “no, baby, this is good! do you mind if i show these to chan hyung? i think we can use these.” you were shocked. there’s no way he really liked them, let alone wanted to use them in a stray kids song, but you let him anyway. 

han- jisung was beside himself. this comeback was proving to be the most successful they’ve ever had and he honestly attributed it to you. while they were in practice, they received some of the best news and he took off because he just had to tell you. completely unaware, you were at home folding laundry when jisung burst through the door. “BABY!” “in here, ji!” you called from the bedroom and heard his footsteps. “BABY! WE’RE! NUMBER…” he tried so hard to tell you but he was so out of breath. you put down the tshirt and walked over to him. “hey, slow down. take some deep breaths.” “no, baby! Racer went number one! we’re number one on the billboard charts!” “YOU’RE NUMBER ONE?!” “WE’RE NUMBER ONE! THE SONG WE WROTE IS NUMBER ONE!” the two of you jumped around the room screaming. you never thought you’d ever write a song for stray kids, let alone see it go to number one on the billboard charts. it was a dream come true. 

felix- “you know, you have a lovely voice. have you ever thought about singing or writing a song?” the question was seemingly out of nowhere. you had no idea where felix had gotten the idea that you could sing since you really only did it in the car or in the shower and you certainly weren’t trained. but felix had heard enough to know he wanted to work with you on a song. the company had sat down with them the other day and said they were planning a comeback. chris had already written several songs but he was always open to the other boys creativity. while you sat there, staring up at him confused, felix took a seat next to you on the sofa and spread out a notebook with all kinds of lyrics written on the pages. “help me out. i have this one i like and it goes like…” he proceeded to sing and ask your opinion. it took a little bit for you to come out of your shell and sing along or offer your thoughts but eventually the two of you came up with something that actually sounded pretty good. the next day, felix brought you down to chris’s studio to sing it for him. the oldest liked it so well that he ended up using it on the album and even asked you to sing some of the background vocals. 

seungmin- it was finally his turn. seungmin was finally given the green light from jyp to create his own solo project and he couldn’t have been more excited. while stray kids was amazing and he was given a lot of creative freedom within the group, this would be a project that was completely him that he could share with stay. something he wanted on the album was a song that you helped him create. when he told you this, you thought it was a joke. you didn’t sing or write, half the time you thought you were tone deaf but it was important to seungmin that the love of his life was involved. when the two of you finally sat down to write, it was hard to get you to open up. the voices in your head were winning and keeping you silent, almost working against you to prove you right that you couldn’t do this. once seungmin came up with a good melody, however, the words just poured out of you. for some reason, all you could think about was him and how much you loved him, your favorite topic in the whole world, one that you could talk at length about. before you knew it, you had a full song ready to be recorded. as if he couldn’t get any cuter, singing a song you wrote about him, he used some audio from something he recorded when you weren’t paying attention. the song was perfect. 

i.n- chan had finally finished the masters on the first ever song you had written and callled you into the studio to listen to it. on a drunken night, you accidentally let it slip to jeongin that you’d always wanted to write a song and from that moment, he did all he could to make your dream come true. he let chris know and the following day he called you into the studio to work with you. it was so cool to see the process from start to finish from writing lyrics and seeing chris come up with a beat and song production to seeing all the boys laying down vocals. but it was finally time to listen to the finished project. the boys sat you down at the soundboard and you had butterflies in your stomach. chan hit play on the song and it filled the studio. the song wasn’t particularly emotional, it was actually a fun, upbeat trap song that would likely be used as a title track. you could already envision the cool choreography that would be created to go with it and the styling for the concept. despite it not being an emotional song, you couldn’t help but tear up. it was so good which you mostly attributed to the production, but still to be apart of something that you considered to be a dream of yours that had now come to life made you emotional. when the song ended you looked up at jeongin. “aw, babe! why are you crying? it’s good!” he asked, pulling you against his chest. “no, i know. it is! i just can’t believe i actually did this.” you explained. jeongin chuckled affectionately and kissed your head. “you did, love and it’s so good! i’m so proud of you!” “i am too, y/n. you did such a good job.” chris encouraged you. you didn’t realize when dating a stray kids member that you’d secretly become one.

[nightlyrequiem]

Be Still My Heart

Chapter 4- Business

Masterlist AO3 Next Previous

New Chapter Every Saturday

You're the best in the meth industry but a new product suddenly pops up. You and your boss, Valeria, must figure out who is making it so you can take back the market. All the while tension is building between the two of you.

A/N: Boring business stuff, but also Valeria being internally vindictive and angry.

Tags/Warnings: Illegal Substances, Boss Employee Relationship, Angst, Some Hurt/Comfort, Violence, Manipulation, Suggestive Themes, Smut (But Only in CH20.), Dual POV

"Well, I have a date. "Well, I have a date. "Well, I have a date." "Well, I have a date."

A glass astray shatters against the wall as Valeria hurls it in anger. Its shards glitter and catch the glow from the lamp, looking like really big crystals of the yellow meth. She scowls at the mess she's made. You have a date. Who would even want to go out with you, she wonders. You're odd and reclusive and don't blink as often as you should. Everyone who works under her thinks you're... peculiar, so who asked you out? Valeria of course has an interest in you but that's because she's intelligent enough to appreciate the complexity of you.

Valeria rubs a hand over her warm face, her fingers itching for another cigarette. Valeria has dumbly assumed that she'd have no competition, that she wouldn't have to compete for your affection. She leans down to pick up the glass, she's lucky all the pieces are big. She stews in her anger. She doesn't enjoy the idea of you out with someone else. Smiling that toothy, lopsided smile at their jokes, focusing that tense stare on them. Maybe you'll even go on to ramble about all the 'fun facts' you know about everything and anything. Valeria won't let this slide, naturally. She has never been the type to let go of the things she wants so easily.

After she's finished cleaning up the astray, she sits down in her chair. There's a new dent in the wall, which only adds to her irritation. She'll stop you from going on that date. First, Valeria needs to speak with Diego first. Handle business and then she's free to fix this. She forces herself out of the comforting leather embrace of her chair and sets out down the hallway to find Diego. She passes by a room with the door open and halts in her steps. The two men inside who are supposed to be packaging the product are currently testing it out. She slips in silently and slaps the bald one upside the head. Startling the other one into backing up.

"What the hell are you doing?" She hisses "¡Maldito idiota inútil, no usas el producto!" 

The man's eyes are bloodshot. She can see the red veins snaking through the whites of his glassy eyes. His mouth hangs open slightly from shock, revealing teeth in the beginning stages of rot. She glares at him, weighing her options. She lashes out again and catches him in the nose with a foul right hook, sending him to the floor with a heavy thud. Valeria isn't done though. She grabs him and hoists him to his feet.

She levels his friend with a dangerous look.

"Hold him steady." She demands. He just gapes at her like he can't understand the very simple words coming from her lips. Moron. "HOLD HIM!" Valeria repeats loudly. He grabs his friend, and Valeria grabs his right hand, slamming it on the table. His fingers are thick, hair growing on the knuckles. His nails are short but caked with dirt.

"What are you doing?" The bald one asks nervously. Valeria ignores him and grabs a knife from her belt, stabbing it down through his hand. He screams in either pain or surprise or both. He almost jerks his hand away but clearly thinks better of it.

"Don't steal our fucking product again. Do you understand me?" Valeria growls. It takes a second, but he nods.

Valeria turns away abruptly and storms out of the room. The surprise act of violence has barely quelled her anger. He's not really the person she wants to hurt anyway. Valeria shakes her head and continues her search for Diego. She finds him in a back room with his personal cellphone up to his ear. He's speaking softly into the receiver, calling whoever it is on the other side baby. Valeria curls her lip in disgust at the sight of her right hand acting so soft. Or maybe it's jealousy at the fact she doesn't have that. she stands in the doorway with her arms crossed until Diego notices her. He does and furrows those thick brows. He quickly gives an excuse to the woman on the phone as to why he has to go. They exchange sappy 'I love yous' to each other. He hangs up and stands straight. All business now.

Valeria clears her throat.

"We need to discuss this new meth." She speaks. Leanings against the yellowing wall. Once upon a time it was pearly white but one too many people shared a cigarette in this room and stained it.

"I still think it's coming from Pajaro Azul." He says gruffly. Valeria nods. She already knows where you stand on this. You don't think it's even coming from a city in Mexico, and you don't want to deal with it if it is. You aren't making the decisions here though. Valeria still feels a little hesitant about travelling down to Pajaro Azul. She begrudgingly admits to herself that the reining cartel over there is strong, and they could get offended if Las Almas started sniffing around. It could spark into an all-out war. and while Valeria has no issues with violence or death, a war would be inconvenient and cost them money and men.

Diego continues.

"We should go down there and look around, to hell with the cartel if they don't like it."

Valeria holds a hand up to her face to inspect her nails. The pink polish is chipping and looks grubby. She really needs to repaint her nails. "Maybe." She concedes. "I think we should do that if this sweeter batch isn't a success."

Diego frowns. "It probably won't be." He says snidely. Valeria can feel herself bristling at his tone. "Her other stuff is selling less and less, at this point she's costing more than she's making."

Valeria resists the urge to jump to your defense. You were making them a lot of money before the new stuff popped up. Valeria knows you'll make them more money again after this situation is dealt with. "She's a worthwhile investment."

"What kind of a scientist can't figure out a way to make a better meth recipe?" He retorts.

"Chemist, Diego, and she didn't go to school for chemistry." Valeria replies with annoyance. "Considering that, I think she's doing pretty good. Besides, an actual chemist would cost more than she does."

There's also the matter of finding one willing to cook meth.

Diego just shrugs. 

"Maybe an actual chemist would give us something useful." He says stubbornly. 

"I'm not firing her." Valeria snaps. This conversation is irritating her. "If this new stuff doesn't sell, I'll send people down to Pajaro Azul." Valeria concludes. she can tell Diego wants to go sooner than that, but he also isn't making the decisions here. Not anymore.

"Alright." He agrees reluctantly. 

With business concluded Valeria can move onto more personal matters.

"Are there any... fraternizing amongst my workers?" Valeria asks. Diego leans back, confused by the sudden topic switch.

"Like fucking?" He asks.

"... Sure, or perhaps relationships?" She presses. He spends more time with the others than she does. Why would she willingly spend any more time around them than she has to?

"Oh, I think Corra is pursuing someone around here." He says. "She was talking to her brother about asking someone out. I think it was your little chemist."

Corra? She scowls. Corra. It enrages Valeria that she genuinely sees Corra as competition. She's younger, friendlier, more feminine. Is that what you're into? Valeria decides Corra is making a fool out of you. Asking you out as a means of humiliating you, why else would she show interest in you? She doesn't know you enough to like you. Not like Valeria does.

"I see." She says.

"That a problem?" Diego asks. Able to see the obvious dislike on her face.

"Not at all." Valeria lies. Relaxing her face. "As long as everyone does what they need to do I don't care who they do."

Except Valeria does care. Valeria has more money and power and so much more to offer. Not only that, but she's certain Corra only asked you out to make you the butt of a joke. She knows you could never be fulfilled with Corra anyway, but you don't seem to know that. You'd be wasting your time with Corra and if you get invested into a relationship with her only to find out she was leading you on for a quick laugh. It could devastate you and affect your work ethic. That's fine. Valeria will... guide you on the right path. You're a sheep and she's your shepherd.

[mxrtixnzwrld]

🤍 “ You don’t know my name “ 🤍

pairing: nanami kento x reader

summary: you have been working at this cafe that had a bakery in it. one day this attractive, older looking man comes in and asks for a loaf of bread. this is a repeating routine with every visit your coworker suspects the two of you are in love. Now she takes matters into her own hands.

tropes: coffee shop au, confessions, falling in love,

warnings: OC as side character, kind of short !!

“Hey y/n~, your usual is here~” Tsuki hummed with a smirk laid on her face. This cafe is mixed with a bakery that makes their products all in building. Ever since they added the bakery business has been booming, and with the boom came your regular Nanami.

When the bakery first opened Nanami wondered in during a lunch break to try the crepes and ever since the first bite he was supposedly hooked. From that day forward he came in during his breaks, ordered different desserts, foods, drinks, whatever and lingered to speak with you. Tsuki said he was whipped but you didn’t have time for all that, although you never failed to notice how toned his arms were or the soft bags under his eyes.

“Hello, how has your day been?” Nanami said looking between you and the menu examining both carefully.

“It’s alright, business rush was hectic.. how about you?” You asked. He sat in silence for a moment in deep thought before his eyes lock with yours.

“My day was decent. I had to stay over night at the office.” Nanami sighed and now that he pointed it out he did look tired.

“So a coffe?” You asked. He nods and smiles.

“I would also like to have one of your famous crepes,” though the smile was small he did and before you can say anything Tsuki pushes you towards the kitchen.

“Alright now y/n go make his crepe while I check him out!” Tsuki says pushing you to the kitchen. As you make his order she “talked” to him. They kept their voices low so you couldn’t hear but they seemed to be having interesting conversation. You begin making his crepe being confused but deciding not to worry about it.

“Give it to me straight, you want my coworker right? I promise y/n’s nice!” The short girl said making Nanami’s face flush.

“What would make you say that?” He asked for the brunette to begin working on his coffee with a huge grin set on her face.

“Your face when you talk to her. Or the fact you come here during your lunch break to talk to her-“ the girl lists but stops as Nanami’s eye twitches.

“Whoops.. too much? Look all I’m saying is that I can help. Just gimme your number.” Tsuki hands him the drink, a sticky note and pen. He sighs and writes it down before handing the pen and sticky note back. As he hands Tsuki the sticky note he watches you finishing up his crate in the back. You always put a lot of craftsmanship into what you made for him and always had such a determined, focused expression across your face.

He doubts he’d ever say it to you but in the visits he makes he becomes more drawn to you, your dreams and the way you held eye contact when ever he spoke.

“Here you go..” you trail off realizing you never asked for his name even though he comes in almost daily. He stands speechless before clearing his throat.

“Nanami, and thank you..” he says with a small smile before leaving as he became hot in the face.

“I got his number-“

“You have his what?!”

“Girl just call him,” Tsuki groaned as the two closed up shop.

“But why would I? I have to focus on work..” you sigh looking at his number in your phone.

“Girl you need to loosen up, you like what you see right?” She said by your side. You slowly nod which feeds into her antics. Tsuki snatches up your phone and presses call.

You look to her in shock as the phone rings into the silence before going straight to voicemail. You looked at Tsuki before she mouths to go ahead and talk.

“Uhm hey Nanami.. this is the girl from the bakery. I was wondering if you would want to hang out sometime- I know it’s weird how I got your number but I always see you in here and.. I think you’re kinda cute. Text me and let me know.” You said before Tsuki hung up.

“See look at you girl, now just sit and wait!” Tsuki says as you both head to the back to finish stocking. The two of you giggle and joke as you both moving cups and ingredients from the front to the back. Tsuki teases time to time about how “you were yappin to him.” Which you roll your eyes and finish up.

You lock the doors behind you and Tsuki before your phone goes off. And there lies a text from Nanami himself.

-

Nanami🩵

I have Sunday afternoon off if you’d like to go out for lunch.

You

I’d like that a lot, I’ll see you then

-

“See, I told you he’s head over heels for you~!” Tsuki teased reading over your shoulder making you chuckle and roll your eyes.

You don’t know if he was but you sure are.

Authors note: ngl I didn’t know what direction to go w/ this but I hope this is good. Like I said before I stopped writing and just got back into it so I hope you enjoyed it!!

©mxrtixnzwrld. do not copy, modify, translate, repost any of my work! reblogging is greatly appreciated!!

[moanz111]

daisy. - kang yeosang

pairing ❀ poet! yeosang x gn! florist! reader

genre ❀ fluff, strangers to lovers, one shot

synopsis ❀ for you, flowers are the doors to people's souls. so when a mysterious man with a strange obsession with daisies comes into your flower shop on your opening day, you can't help but feel drawn to him.

w.c. ❀ 4.3 k

warnings ❀ kissing, drinking, so so much fluff, english is not my native language, so there can be mistakes

credits for all the used graphics belong to their rightful owners!

song recs ❀ daisy. - wave to earth; i'm in love - colde

The sweet aroma of flowers filled your senses as you spun around in your desk chair, taking in the atmosphere. You were sure there wasn’t a day in your life you’d felt happier. Maybe you had exaggerated a bit when you said that to your friend Wooyoung this morning during one of your usual face time sessions, but you knew there was a pinch of truth. 

Last week that would’ve been a distant silly childhood dream, but luck was on your side. You had tried your best, day and night, to make this a reality, and as usual - hard work had paid off. Younger you would’ve freaked out if they could see you now - sitting behind the counter of your own flower shop. 

You had always loved flowers - the way each type had its distinguishable scent, vibrant colours, unique forms, and, above all - their meaning. What had been just a quick exploration of your grandmother’s garden when you were ten turned out to be the reason for your obsession. 

“Yellow tulips are my favourite,” the older woman had said, swiping away the sweat formed under the brim of her broad straw hat as you walked around her most prized possession. You asked her curiously why, crouched down to take in their sweet fragrance. “Their meaning reminds me of you - like them, you’re my little sunshine and happiness.”

The memory filled your heart with nostalgia. You missed those times a lot, but you knew your grandmother was your number one supporter ever since you had told her about your wish to become a florist. She was the first to know about the shop too.

Flowers were fascinating to you, even though most people around you didn’t understand what was so special about them. All that didn’t matter to you. You finally had your space to cherish them as much as you wanted.

Today was the opening of your shop, and you couldn’t wait to welcome your first client. Unable to stay still, you got up and started picking up some flowers from the buckets around you - might as well fill your time doing something productive. Your first bouquet for the day was going to be special - a pink and yellow tulip one. 

As you arranged the freshly cut flowers on the counter, humming along to the song playing on the radio next to you, you couldn’t help but smile for probably the hundredth time since you woke up. Yellow tulips for cheerfulness, pink - for good wishes and friendships. Too busy repeating their meaning in your mind, you didn’t notice the ringing of the small bell, placed at the entrance, signaling that someone had entered the store. 

“Excuse me, are you open?” The raspy voice of the newcomer startled you, and you dropped your scissors on the floor, looking up. You were almost blinded. The man standing at the doorframe was, to say the least, breathtaking. His dark hair fell loosely around his face, and he seemed as if he was stifling a yawn. You took notice of his clothes too - he was wearing a white shirt, tugged in black, elegant pants, and you wondered what kind of job he had. 

“Oh, yes,” you said after clearing your throat with a quiet cough. “Please, welcome.”

“Are you busy? I can come later,” the man responded, pointing to the almost-finished bouquet before you as he approached you. Now up close, you were sure - he was gorgeous. Feeling flustered under his studying sleepy gaze, you bent down to pick up the fallen scissors. 

“Oh, no, I’m just passing the time,” you explained as you got up. You saw him holding a hardcover book, which he placed on the counter, smiling gently. The cover had you staring at it in awe - it depicted a small green field filled with daisies, but from your angle, you couldn’t read the title or the author’s name.

“Congratulations on opening. I’m your neighbour, so to speak,” he joked, stretching out his right hand. “Yeosang, nice to meet you.”

His hand was warm, and his grip was firm when you shook it, introducing yourself. “Let me guess…”

Yeosang raised his eyebrows with a grin, waiting for your next words. “You’re the bookstore’s owner.”

“How did you know?” You laughed at his genuine surprise and shrugged, “Guess I was born with psychic abilities.”

“I should’ve hidden the book,” Yeosang murmured, frowning. “Yes, but I’m also an author.”

He picked up the book from the counter and handed it to you. You noticed a faint blush on his cheeks. This time you saw the cover properly - Illusion.  A collection of poetry by Kang Yeosang. You ran your fingers through the title, admiring the beautifully illustrated daisies. Yeosang’s low chuckle made you look up at his face again, feeling a little embarrassed. “You like the flowers, don’t you?”

“Caught in the act,” you said, grinning when he threw his head back and laughed louder this time. “It’s beautiful. I’ll definitely read it.”

“I hope you like it. Do tell me which one is your favourite,” Yeosang answered, taking a business card from his pocket and handing it to you. There were even more daisies at the back of it. Sensing your amusement, he quickly explained, “Daisies are my favourite. Don’t judge me too much.”

“I never judge based on flower tastes,” you exclaimed, shaking your head.

“I feel like you just lied to me,” Yeosang’s mischievous tone made you smile again. “Take this as an official invitation to my book premiere tomorrow. The book isn’t out yet, so don’t give any spoilers.”

“Yeah,” you teased. “I’ll just post a few screenshots. Nothing more.”

“I might have to take it back, be careful,” he tilted his head to the right, his expression serious. Why was your heart fluttering? “Actually, I came to buy some flowers. So what would you say are the perfect flowers for the start of the week?”

His question caught you off guard, but your brain was already searching for the answer. Looking around the buckets filled with flowers behind him, you murmured more to yourself than speaking directly to him, “Daffodils for new beginnings, chrysanthemums for optimism and joy…”

“You sure know a lot about it, huh,” Yeosang’s deep voice shifted your focus back on him, and you felt heat rush into your cheeks. “Then I’d take seven daffodils, please.”

Trying to contain your excitement from having your first customer, you made a simple composition, adding a few branches of baby’s breath around the white daffodils and tying them with a simple yellow ribbon. While you were working, you felt Yeosang’s intense stare still on you, making your hands tremble a little. “Here you are.”

The man smiled warmly as you handed him the small bouquet. “Have a nice day, Y/N. I’ll be waiting for you.”

As you watched him turn and wave at you one last time from the door before he left, you let out a sigh. 

Yes, this was the best day of your life.

“Yeah, he was definitely flirting with you,” your friend Wooyoung shouted while you were taking your third shot for the night, both of you sitting on the soft carpet in your living room in your pajamas. You had invited him earlier to celebrate the shop’s opening, but you definitely hadn’t expected him to show up with a bag filled with soju bottles. 

After Yeosang had left, the day was relatively quiet and uneventful. A few customers came in and left satisfied, and your parents visited you too. Your sales weren’t that great, but at least you did what you loved the most. And now you regretted sharing your encounter with the handsome poet with your best friend.

“Stop making things weird. He was just being nice,” you answered, your mind already envisioning Yeosang’s face as if he was standing right in front of you again. You would’ve lied if you said you didn’t like him and hadn’t thought about him around ten times today. Maybe even more. You even read some of his poems while waiting for customers and were left speechless. He had a beautiful way with words for which you envied him a bit - to manage to convey your emotions through a few lines so well was something you found awfully attractive.

“You always think that men “are just being nice” to you,” Wooyoung rolled his eyes, pouring you and him another drink. At this rate, you had no idea how you were getting up for work tomorrow, but it was expected - nights with him were always like this. 

You had known him all your life, with your moms being best friends since university. He was the person in your life who knew you the most and wanted the best for you. You were always grateful to have him close to you, but at the same time, you really wanted to smack him right now. 

“You’re being annoying again,” you groaned and pulled playfully his pierced ear, to which he whined. “Stop playing a matchmaker.”

“Stop being so single,” Wooyoung teased you and emptied his glass, pointing at yours to do the same. You gladly took that shot. If the conversation kept going this way, you had to be intoxicated as much as possible. “And my judgment is never wrong.”

“After my disaster of a date with Yunho, you still have the guts to think that?”

Wooyoung loved setting you up with his friends, and you, honestly, had no idea why. Every single date went the same way - they took you to a nice restaurant, you had dinner, talked for a bit, and then they escorted you to your apartment, hoping to be invited in. You didn’t do it. And they didn’t call again either. 

Wooyoung was always telling you you had too high standards, and you felt silly crushing on a man you saw for the first time today and knew nothing about.

“Hey, slight miscalculations happen. And I always pick out the hottest people for you,” Wooyoung stated in a matter-of-fact tone. “But seriously, step up your game. You can’t spend your whole life sniffing flowers.”

The pillow hit him right in the face, to your satisfaction.

You didn’t mind the flowers being your only company at all.

The following day was, to say the least, extremely nerve-wracking. Yeosang had come by to see you first thing in the morning and to remind you of his premiere. He didn’t stay for long, saying he still had a lot of things to prepare, and left after buying some roses of different colours to decorate his bookstore. 

Little did he know, you’d spent the night tossing and turning, wondering what to wear, what to say, and after Wooyoung’s comments about Yeosang you couldn’t even imagine looking him in the eyes. There was no way you could’ve forgotten about tonight.

So after changing out of your working apron and putting on the outfit you’d picked out as the best in your closet, you headed over to Yeosang’s bookstore - Little Miracles, holding the bouquet of tulips you’d made the day before. 

It suited his style, you concluded when you entered the small and cozy shop, filled with stacks of books everywhere. You took your time, walking around the shelves, occasionally picking up some books. You realised it was more of an antiquarian bookstore with many special editions of your favourite works, such you’d never seen before.  

“You like something?” His deep voice startled you and sent a wave of shivers down your spine. You felt your heart skip a beat when you turned to look at Yeosang, standing on your left for who knows how long before you noticed him. Just like yesterday, he was dressed in formal attire, 

but this time his hair was slicked back, exposing his forehead, with a few strands falling in front of his eyes. You knew you were staring, probably even gawking at him, but he looked so nice. “I mean the books.”

Feeling heat burning your cheeks, you looked away from his amused eyes. “I think I might want to live here.”

Yeosang grinned at you and pointed to the book you were holding - Dracula by Bram Stocker. You had read it when you were younger, and you couldn’t deny that it was the beginning of your vampire obsession phase. “You can take it as a gift. I appreciate that you came.”

“Oh, it looks too expensive.” And truly you were a bit afraid to not damage or stain the black and red hardcover with an ominous castle drawn in the middle. You couldn’t possibly accept this as a gift even though you thought you’d cry if you took it.

“Please,” Yeosang said hopefully, pushing the book to your chest. “Then keep it safe for me?”

The spark in his eyes was enough to convince you. “I guess I have to take it then…”

“Now that wasn’t so difficult, was it,” the man teased you, leaning with one hand on the bookshelf next to him. “You’re always welcome here. Come whenever you want to.”

“Thank you,” you blushed at his words even more, maintaining eye contact with him becoming too difficult. “Oh, these are for you. Congratulations.”

You handed him the bouquet, feeling the need to turn his attention away from you. Otherwise, you had no idea how you were going to survive the night. Yeosang thanked you and shifted his position, so now he stood much closer to you than before. “I’d love us to talk more, but I have to start the meet and greet soon. How about I treat you to dinner later?”

“Oh,” you stuttered, barely processing what was happening. “Yes, of course. I’d love to.”

“Great,” he chuckled, checking his wristwatch with a sigh. You noticed his hands were slightly trembling. 

“Hey, don’t be nervous,” you tried comforting him. “You have talent, and your poems are amazing.”

“So you’ve read them,” Yeosang shot you a wide smile. “I’m not letting you go anywhere before you tell me about this later.”

Feeling too flustered to answer, you nodded and followed behind him as Yeosang led you to the centre of the bookstore where he had placed some chairs, most of them occupied. You took a seat at the back, trying to calm down your racing heart.

If a flower could describe your feelings now, it would be a pink rose. 

Happiness.

Yeosang was a smooth talker.

Even though you’d known him for only two days, you felt as if he had been there your whole life. After his signing session ended and he sent off the last bit of guests, he closed the bookstore and took you to your favourite part of the city, full of quiet and cozy restaurants where you could get to know each other uninterrupted.

You had a lot in common - you both liked matcha lattes and chocolate muffins, enjoyed riding your bikes, watching the sunset, and you both hated spicy food, loud places and queuing for a book at the bookshop on its release day. 

Yeosang told you about his bookstore and how it had all started. Surprisingly, he had graduated as a film major but hadn’t made any progress in that field, so he decided to turn to his hobby - writing. That’s how almost four years ago he opened his shop and started collecting old and tattered books, trying to find them a new home. You loved the spark in his eyes when he told you his story and realised you felt the same way about flowers. All you wanted was for the people who bought them to continue appreciating them as much as you did. 

You also noticed he was much shyer than you thought him to be, which you found endearing, and wondered how many more sides of him you were yet to uncover. His calm demeanor made you feel at home and safe with him, and you really didn’t want the night to end.

“So, tell me more about your daisies,” you began, taking a sip from your glass of wine. Yeosang let out a low chuckle, shaking his head.

“Are you that curious?” He challenged you, and honestly, you weren’t sure if it was because of all the wine you had or him or both, but you had the urge to look away. The teasing glint in his gaze was too much for your poor soul, and you felt as if you were burning up every time you locked eyes. 

“Well, you don’t see every day a grown-up man with a daisy obsession, so yeah,” you answered, fidgeting with your fingers nervously. Yeosang looked confident in your eyes, but you could still see a slight redness creep up his neck.

“Well,” he started explaining, rolling his sleeves up to his elbows. “I guess they just remind me of my childhood. When I was younger, I used to live in the countryside with my family for a while. There was this huge field with daisies where my parents, older sister, and I went every weekend. They bring me comfort, and I like their meaning as well.”

You imagined little Yeosang running around a big green field, chasing after butterflies and picking up daisies. Your heart might have as well burst at this point. “That sounds so adorable.”

“You think so? The bees weren’t so adorable,” he arched his eyebrows, smirking, and took a sip from his glass. “So, tell me about your flowers then. A story for a story.”

“My grandma used to be a florist herself in the past, so ever since I was born, there were flowers everywhere around me,” you recall, thinking of all the times she’d let you watch her tend her garden and help her water the small buds, waiting for them to grow. “I love everything about them - even though some people say they are just temporary happiness. There’s beauty in the fleeting too.”

“Let’s drink to that then,” Yeosang grinned, raising his glass. You did the same and nodded to him to continue. “To all the flowers and all the happy memories they leave behind.”

Over the next few months, you fell into a comfortable daily routine. You opened your shop at 8 in the morning, picked out the freshest flowers from the daily delivery you ordered from a local garden, and spent the whole day arranging bouquets until 5 in the afternoon. 

It fascinated you how people with different purposes, goals, and fates came to you to seek the comfort of flowers - some - for grief and loss, others - for first dates and confessions. You were always happy to help and introduce them to a deeper understanding of flowers.

The only variable in your life was Yeosang.

Your relationship remained painfully unlabeled. 

Were you dating? Kind of. You went out a few days per week, and whenever you didn’t, you stayed in his bookstore after you’d finished working, sharing a couple of hours of comfortable silence with him. During these quiet moments, he wrote his poems or read to you while you sat curled up on the sofa in his small office, reading whatever book you found that day or just listening to his soothing voice. 

Your mornings together were also something you loved. Yeosang, unlike you, was an early bird. His usual shift started at 10 a.m., but he came earlier so he could spend some extra time with you under the pretense he had nothing else to do. When you arrived at the shop, he was already sitting on the stairs in front of it, holding his daily gift, as called it, in his hands and shyly handed it to you. Usually, it consisted of a couple of daisies he’d picked up from the park next to his apartment building and a note wishing you a nice day or containing a short scribbled poem that always made you laugh. 

And your days were truly nice. Except you couldn’t stop thinking about Yeosang even for a minute. 

Today was no different, but this morning Yeosang seemed more nervous than usual. The sweat, glistening on his forehead, and his shaking hands as he handed you the daisies and a small piece of paper made you wonder what had him so worked up this early. He didn’t stay long, saying he had “some things to take care of” and left you alone, standing puzzled in the middle of your shop. 

Once you opened the folded note, you found out why Yeosang was acting so strangely.

Please, come and meet me at a field of daisies and dreams. 

Your hands were sweaty, your heart was probably beating in an inhumane rate, and you were smiling too widely as you walked to the location Yeosang had written on his morning note. It was past 7 p.m., and you could see the last vibrant colours of the fading sun light up the sky. The spring afternoon breeze caressed your face and swirled some cherry blossoms around you. You felt like you were a fairy tale character, surrounded by early-bloomed spring flowers and trees at your favourite park. It was close to your shop and one of the main reasons you chose that exact rental place. You loved going there after work, taking a long walk, and clearing up your thoughts whenever you felt the need to. You honestly didn’t expect Yeosang to remember this location since you’d told him about it a long time ago, yet he always found a way to surprise you.

There were a lot of people during this time of the day, so it was difficult spotting Yeosang in the sea of faces around you, but once you did - you couldn’t take your eyes off of him. 

No matter how many times you saw his face, you were always amazed. Now was no different - his bootcut jeans and blue t-shirt suited him perfectly, and his hair was hidden under a white beanie. He was holding a tote bag decorated with daisies in one hand as he waved at you with his free one. 

“Hey,” Yeosang beamed at you, pulling you in for a hug when he came closer. Wrapping your hands around him, you could smell the woody scent of his perfume and felt the softness of his dark locks at the nape of his neck under your fingertips. “You look beautiful.”

This date was going to be the end of you, for sure.

The cool night wind, the shimmering of the street lamps, and the calm breathing of Yeosang lying in your lap made you feel at peace. The sun was long gone under the horizon, and you had no idea how much time had passed since he pulled you to sit down on a soft blanket and took out of his bag probably the sweetest strawberries you’d ever eaten. Yeosang had definitely come prepared for this spontaneous picnic date. 

Now you ran your fingers mindlessly through his silky hair as he told you a story about some customer he had today. The position you were in felt domestic and comfortable as if you’d done this thousands of times before. You found it hard to concentrate on his voice when Yeosang started drawing random shapes on your thighs and then had the audacity to ask you about your day. If your head hadn’t been spinning from the overwhelming feeling of him, you would’ve probably answered him.

“Hey,” he whispered, his fingertips brushing your cheeks, trying to get your attention as he got up from your lap. The loss of his touch made you miss his warmth. “You’re spacing out.”

“You’re very distracting.” Unable to look at him or form any other coherent answer, you shifted your gaze to the small daisies growing on your right amongst the grass. You reached out your hand to touch them and felt the grass around them tickle your palm. 

“Now who’s obsessed with daisies, huh,” said Yeosang, amused, wrapping his fingers around your chin to turn your face to him. For a split second, you stopped hearing the world around you - the children’s laughter, the faded sound of music, coming from somewhere around you, all became muted under the rhythm of your heartbeat, ringing in your ears. It was just you and his soft gaze, studying your face, and Yeosang, rubbing his thumb across your chin. You saw his eyes wander downwards to your lips before he asked in a hushed voice, “Can I kiss you?”

Seconds after your nod, you felt Yeosang’s warm lips on yours. At first, his kiss was light and hesitant, and his movements- were slow and deliberate. You reached up to hold on to his t-shirt as he cupped your face with his big hands. The coldness of his palms made you shiver. Where you touched, you felt as if electricity was running through your body.

Before you knew it, Yeosang deepened the kiss, making you gasp for breath. Your shaky hands grabbed his shoulders for support while his moved to your thighs. It was too much. His lips left yours only to feel them on your neck, leaving shy kisses along your jawline and then continuing downwards. His lips stopped right above the daisy charm hanging from your silver necklace, which he had gifted you. The pink blush on Yeosang’s cheeks and the warmth and love you saw in his dark eyes were more than enough to make your heart swell with adoration. 

Yeosang reached for a small, freshly bloomed daisy beside him and pulled it from the ground. Placing it behind your ear, he caressed your cheek gently. “Do you know what’s the meaning of daisies?”

“Of course I do,” you replied, sounding offended. At this point, he had to know you were a walking flower encyclopedia. “New beginnings, purity, and faith.”

“That’s all?” Yeosang pressed, leaning in closer to your face again. The proximity had your head spinning. “I’ve heard of another one too.”

“And what is it?” You were feeling out of breath, his lips only centimeters away from yours. 

“True love.” 

These were his only words before Yeosang captured your lips in another kiss under the night sky and the stars shimmering above you.

You wanted this moment to last forever.

Daisies, you decided, were your favourite flowers.

note ❀ happy (late) birthday to yeosang! ♡

after a short delay, i finally had time to finish daisy so thank you everyone for waiting! i hope you enjoyed reading it! i'm still not very confident in writing stuff like that so feedback is appreciated! please lmk what you thought of this story! ♡

also, how are you feeling about the comeback? so far i love it so much 😭

daisy., © moanz111

please do not modify, copy, repost, or translate.

[zukomysweetbabyboy]

This may be a controversial opinion but I'm glad that Azula was the prodigy firebender and not Zuko not just because Aang stumbling upon the prodigies of all the elements is unrealistic and feels cheaper but it was so essential to both Zuko and Azula's character arcs.

I mean, it’s no secret that Azula's character arc did not get the attention that she deserved. But from what we did get, we know that she put a lot (and I mean A LOT) of her self worth in her firebending which isn't surprising because she idolized Ozai and he was fucking useless without bending and, specifically, in being better than Zuko. Azula was the best firebender in the world and inheriting an entire kingdom at FOURTEEN years old. From her father, she was taught that she was safe as long as she was better than Zuko ("You can't treat me like this! You can't treat me like Zuko!"). This meant being sneaky (staying behind in the throne room while Azulon talked to Ozai), being emotionless (teasing Zuko about his grandfather literally ordering his father to kill him - what the fuck baby Azula), being tactful (knowing the answer to the question Ozai asked in the throne room & only speaking in turn), being perfect ("Almost isn't good enough!"), and most importantly: being the best firebender (mastering advanced forms as a child, blue firebending, etc.). She was taught from her mother that these things made her a monster ("My own mother thought I was a monster - she was right of course", "What is wrong with that child"). She was smart enough to know that she couldn’t have the acceptance from both parents, but acceptance from Ozai meant being safe and acceptance from Ursa meant being loved, and to Azula being safe was more important.

This is where the difference between Zuko and Azula starts. Where Azula is all head (being safe > being loved), Zuko is all heart. Zuko didn't understand why his father hated him or why Azula was cold. He was genuine in his love and in his hurt and in his anger. He wasn't good at being the perfect prince, so he couldn't gain acceptance from his father (he couldn't be safe) but he clung to his mother (preferring her company even to Mai and Ty Lee and Azula, who were his age). He internalized what she said in the throne room about his struggling making him strong, and we see him repeat that sentiment throughout the show. Zuko's sense of identity comes from his persistence whereas Azula's comes from her perfection and both of these ideals are trauma responses. It's obvious that it's not healthy for Azula to base her identity around being perfect and It's no wonder she cracked by the end of the series although that should have been handled SO MUCH better - WHERE is the buildup she deserved, Bryke. But it is also not healthy for Zuko to base his identity around struggle, even though this flaw doesn't drive him insane like Azula's perfection and in a fucked up sort of way it is productive to him being a great Fire Lord. Zuko's character arc is well done (maybe the most well done character arc ever, actually) but he finishes the show with a lot of growth left to do.

tldr: Both of their characters relied on Azula being a prodigy and Zuko not being. Azula is all head and Zuko is all heart and their parents pitted them against each other.

p.s. I have SO many thoughts about their dynamic and how canon could have been tweaked just a little bit to make it so beautiful and tragic and compelling, but that will have to be a different post. Also all of the quotes are from memory so if they're wrong oops.

[pharawee]

I just finished watching Love Syndrome: The Beginning and... I actually really liked what they did with the source material. It's interesting that this and the series are by the same production company and director but other than the choice of skinny jeans (someone must have been a big fan lmao) and Tuss reprising his role as Neil, the movie has a very different vibe imo.

It's also unfinished, meaning it ends on a cliffhanger with a big 'to be continued' - which probably isn't intentional seeing as they were originally aiming for a cinematic release (not to mention the sudden passing of the producer/director). I can't blame them either because I think they made the deliberate decision to mostly leave this as is to honour the director's final work:

As it is, I think the movie is a very solid piece of entertainment with some really nice acting, especially by Bix Tagon as Itt.

I've read most of the novels in the Love Syndrome universe and they're actually very same-y with the same non-con kink repeated throughout pretty much every couple's story (and there's A LOT of couples). This is why Day and Itt were never my faves (especially since the tropes really be troping with these two) and tbh I wasn't really into Long and Frank's version of them either (which isn't their fault at all - I just don't think Frank was a good fit for Itt), but Nef and Bix really make them work for me this time.

For one, there's zero romanticisation. Day is positively unhinged and there's zero doubt that Itt is the victim here. The scenes between them are incredibly brutal to watch but at the same time there's this almost stageplay-like feeling to them - as if every little piece of dialogue and acting has its place and nothing is drawn out or glossed over. I really appreciated that (as difficult as their scenes were to watch). I don't think that's easy to accomplish. I saw in some of the bts that they worked closely with either an acting coach or an intimacy coordinator (or both) throughout the filming of Day and Itt's scenes and imo it really shows. As bad as it sounds because Day is such a horrible person and Itt is straightup going through hell, theirs really were the most interesting scenes in the movie for me.

According to MDL Nef and Bix are rookie actors too so kudos to them for doing an incredible job. I hope we get to see more of them especially since Day and Itt's story is far from finished and I'd really like to see if they can pull off the transition from toxic hate to toxic love (imo it didn't work at all in the series, mostly because it started with book 3).

As for Gear and Night, they chose to almost completely sanitise their story (except for the initial bet itself) which imo was a good choice because in the novel reading about the same trope over and over again got tired real fast. Night takes Gear back relatively quickly and then they just pick up where they left off (but with Night more or less in control now).

Plus, Tiger Tanawat (who btw is a Change 2561 artist) as Night is such a mood:

I already loved Rossi as Night but dang (also, I need that shirt). 🫠

There's also some cute Four and Gus moments that unfortunately (or fortunately - seeing as how the writer of the novel also seems to have an age gap kink that's better left unmentioned 😬) gloss over most of their story. Knot, Fu and Neil kind of appear but that's about it.

I wonder - providing we ever get to see the second part of this movie - if they'll scrap the horrible Neil as the villain side plot or not because I could totally do without that. 😬😬

That being said, if you thought The Effect was difficult to stomach then you probably shouldn't watch this. Love Syndrome never hides the fact what it is about but it unfortunately doesn't offer any content warnings. Its SA scenes are explicit and realistic so if that's upsetting to you please please don't watch this. 🙏

[moodymisty]

The fungus. The fungus! THE FUNGUS! THE F- but in all honesty, your honor, my wubby little blorbo shit man is so cute and those headcanons are on point.

Now, indulge my brain rot for just a second. Just imagine the other primarchs finding out that Mortarion had not only found a partner, but that they’re completely normal-looking and super kind. They’re pleasant smelling, friendly, talkative; everything Mortarion is not. I also like to imagine his partner talking about him like he’s a stray cat they picked up off the side of the road. Like,

“Yeah, he has his moments. Sometimes he can be a little cranky but I still love him. Sure he tried to kill Gulliman, but that’s just how he shows love!”

“Oh no I can’t wash that sweater. If I do Mortarion will freak out! He sleeps on that thing every night. Now, I have to go. If I’m not in his chambers at exactly 5 pm he’ll get lonely and cry so hard he’ll throw up”

Jesus christ that last sentence nearly made me piss myself laughing. Mortarion in a nutshell. The man is incapable of expressing himself in any productive way, so to have a beloved that is like, normal? Insane. No one thought Mortarion had any pull. Hell, they thought he had negative pull.

Also. I'm sorry but I got inspired by this so I hope you don't mind a drabble. No warnings apart from it being very rough and I only revised it once. 'She' is used once, but I can change it if you want.

Sanguinius walks into the massive room and makes a line right for the desk, of which Guilliman sits behind. He takes one glance upward at him, and notices the way he seems to be holding back a smile, and his wings are almost twitching. His eyes return to the parchment underneath his pen.

"I am busy. It better be quite important." Sanguinius tilts his head slightly to the side.

"You are always busy. But I can assure you that you'll want to hear this."

Eyes cast upwards at him, Guilliman looks at him with a furrowed brow. It would be quite odd for urgent news to be delivered with such a positive disposition, so he wonders what Sanguinius could possibly need to say. He waits on less so bated breath, and more so slight irritation.

"Mortarion has returned to Terra," Guilliman glances upward, and for a second Sanguinius sees the unfettered rage of a man on his wits end flash through his eyes.

"That is not urgent news." The angel has more words on his lips as he smirks and gently waves his hand. "I know, but let me finish." Guilliman puts the tip of his pen to parchment and continues writing while he waits for him to finish.

"And he has brought his lover with him."

The Primarch of the Ultramarines almost has to ask Sanguinius to repeat himself, even though he knows he hear it correctly. He pulls the tip of his pen lest it begin to drop too much ink, setting it into the well and looking up fully.

"Mortarion is courting someone?"

He would've been less surprised if it had been Ferrus.

Sanguinius' smile cracks through his withheld expression just a bit more. Guilliman wonders if he fought for the honor of surprising him with this news.

"Believe me, we were just as surprised. But she's here in the palace now. I believe Fulgrim got to her first. He seemed completely distraught afterwards, so I wanted to go take a look for myself."

Guilliman hears in his tone that there's an invitation to join him on his lips. And while Roboute knows that he has work to do, as he always does, he can't say this isn't a tempting offer. After only a moment of internal deliberation he sighs, and rises from his seat.

"Very well. I can't say I'm not curious."

The two of them walk side by side down the myriad of halls that only make up a tiny section of the palace, Sanguinius leading. He seems to have an idea as to where Mortarion and his supposed lover is. Guilliman doesn't quite know why he hesitates to fully believe this is even true. He doubts Sanguinius would ever lie but,

Mortarion?

While it takes a bit of searching, eventually the Primarch of the Death Guard is found, and his lover with him. Him and Sanguinius stay back, intent to watch the scene for a moment. And even though the two of them are silent, if anyone had been close they might've been able to hear the two of them thinking.

You seem, normal.

Guilliman thinks you wouldn't look out of place in a shopping district on Macragge. You wear the regalia of your Primarch's legion as decoration on your clothing, fabric a pallid purple, but nothing else seems out of place.

But unlike Mortarion who stands behind you sulking, you are all smiles- speaking to Vulkan with what seems like pleasant conversation. Where Mortarion seems unkempt, cast in a sour, near depressive moue, you seem nothing but clean and polite. Your smile is warm, as you compliment Vulkan about something as simple as the unique embellishments of his legion's armor, and Vulkan takes it with a signature humbleness. Though if he had to guess, Vulkan was also quite surprised that Mortarion's choice in lover has proven so, unlike him.

Guilliman watches, and when he looks to his right, he sees Sanguinius watching his expression closely. Guilliman looks back to the scene ahead of him.

"Hmm. Odd."

[maddilynmuse]

https://archiveofourown.org/works/55890415/chapters/141920194

Huh. I wrote almost 10,000 words in less than a week. When the brainrot hits, it really fucking hits.

WARNING, POST GAME SPOILERS, CONTINUE AT OWN RISK! (And if you do click the link, y’know, mind the tags)

Anyways, hello In Stars and Time fandom! Look what I just finished up earlier today~ For those who don’t obsessively check ao3, it’s a little series I’ve made about Siffrin post-canon having some time loop trauma manifesting as getting stuck in just repeating his lines (well, most lines are his, hehe) and going semiverbal. This here is a prequel to the smaller fic “Line, Please” which is the same basic premise, but later chronologically (so the fam isn’t quite as freaked out).

Do mind the warnings, this is a trauma response after all, but what can I say? For as much as I like to break characters open and see them bleed, I also adore some hurt/comfort and recovery. I think this game and fandom ought to understand, Change is destruction, but can be good too.

… and I wasn’t sure whether to go into it on ao3 or if it’d be weirdly personal and TMI, but fuck it. This was partly inspired by me going nonverbal about a week prior to “Line, Please.” It doesn’t happen to me often (I could count the times on one hand), but the mortal terror and sheer, prolonged dread of hearing people talk about imminent tornadoes all day, hurriedly packing as much as you can into a bag and going to the closest thing you have to shelter only to realize it is closed, it will not accept you, you cannot get in, desperately looking for anywhere else and slowly realizing you have no good options… Well, good news (for me at least), it missed us. I didn’t lose my life, car, apartment, or anything I owned. But turns out an entire day of slowly building terror and helplessness will fuck up your mental state. Im lucky that was the worst though.

… so yeah.

Anyways! Back to fic, there’s a nonzero chance I’ll somehow manage another insane bout of productivity next week, but there’s also a nonzero chance I will once more fall off the face of the earth for months (for more details, see the unnecessarily long author’s note on chapter 3, but good news! Job’s been confirmed, YA GIRL WILL CONTINUE TO HAVE INCOME!!! NO STARVING! YAY!)

Hope y’all have enjoyed, and sorry not sorry for the rant. You chose to click Read More, I wash my hands of responsibility /hj (but seriously, thanks for reading and have a good day).

And zero pressure, especially since I really don’t put too much on there, but link to Kofi.

[deceptive-daydreams]

The Under-Ground

Chapter One - Welcome to The Under-Ground

Ch. 1 | Ch. 2 | Ch. 3 | Ch. 4 | Ch. 5 | Ch. 6 | Ch. 7 |

Modern!Barista!Eddie AU - In which you work at the local Hawkins coffee shop where you thought you'd be able to escape the horrors that were high school a few years after graduating. Until one of those horrors lands a job in the closing shift with you...and you have to train him.

Enemies to Lovers, Modern!Barista!Eddie AU, Eddie x Fem Reader

5K Words

Warnings - Eddie is an asshole, eventual smut, I don't think there's anything else but please let me know if I missed anything

Author's Note: I finished this sooner than I thought I would...pls let me know what you think, I am having so much fun writing this so far and I can't wait to keep going

Masterlist

Next ->

The chill Autumn air infiltrated the apartment and left you shivering, the wool blanket atop your comforter did little to aid you in getting warm.  That’s what five hundred dollars a month got you in small town Hawkins, it's what you could afford.  Old striped wallpaper that alternated a faded baby blue and pale yellow that seemed to have been glued to the wall since the 70’s barely clung to the walls, a majority of it peeling and begging to be torn off.  The stained white linoleum throughout the kitchen had seen better days and the carpet in the living room and bedroom was dingy, so dingy that no vacuum could possibly come close to cleaning it.  The lock on the door was on the verge of breaking and almost didn’t work–almost.  And of course the heater was definitely broken, the creepy landlord would take his sweet time to fix it, leaving you with a freezing apartment as the seasons changed and Hawkins welcomed the fall.  A broke college student by day and a barista by night, these are the cards you were dealt for now.  

Classes at the community college had finished for the day, rotating to the night courses.  A few papers were due next week, one for your business class on the effects of product promotion in business growth that happened to be stressing you out extra.  Your fingers tapped away at your laptop from your mattress nestled in the corner on the floor of your tiny bedroom.  4:30PM, the time in the corner of the screen read, just half an hour before your shift at The Under-Ground.  With a groan, you click save on the document and shut the laptop which was certain to be opened later tonight after your shift only to continue the torturous essay.  Begrudgingly you began your pre-work ritual of grabbing whatever snack or meal you had in the fridge, scarfing it down, and then tidying your appearance a bit while listening to your daily playlist named “Eh” on Spotify.  Today’s vibe was set by Dreams by Fleetwood Mac.  

The rusty bathroom faucet sputtered water before allowing a full stream to flow into the sink.  You splashed some water on your face to feel more alive although it may have been a mistake in hindsight since the apartment was already cold and rather than feeling refreshed, you felt like a wet dog.  Dabbing your face with a towel hanging from over the rod where the tie dye shower curtain hung as well, you collected any leftover mascara from the previous night beneath your waterline and around your eyelids.  Moving to the compact closet in the bedroom, a simple outfit of jeans and a maroon knitted sweater you’d ‘claimed’ from the lost and found at the college were chosen and paired with your only signature docs.  Lastly, your apron was tied around your waist in a neat knot.  

Grabbing your keys from the laminate countertop and shoving your laptop in your bag, you make your way through the damaged and scratched up wooden door that was the entrance to your apartment, the number seven nailed to the front of it.  “God dammit.” you jam your key in and out of the lock, twisting and repeating until it finally clicks in place.  The door leads right outside into the biting air and you scurry down the concrete stairs while avoiding touching the nasty railing, Mrs. Harrison’s chubby cat, Raphael is perched right at the bottom like he always is.  His large green irises stare up at you, giving the appearance that he was just a fluffy ball of black fur with eyes.  “Ralphy” you mumble your nickname for him affectionately as you steal a pat from his head on your way out of the apartments, a small meow chiming through the air.  

The Under-Ground wasn’t a far walk but it sure did seem that way the colder it got.  You’d been working there since the Spring and so far had no issues with weather but you knew it would bite you at some point.  The walk through downtown Hawkins is crisp and cloudy, leaves blowing delicately from the trees and laying perfectly in the street, colors varying from red, orange, and brown.  It was mid September.  Patrons wander about the streets attending to their daily errands.  Teenagers mess around at the entrance of The Hideout, no doubt attempting to use their fake IDs only to be turned away by the bouncer, Stan.  

Joyce Byers cleans the storefront window of Melvald’s, taking care to not miss a single streak.  Her face lights up as her son, Will approaches the store.  Max Mayfield skateboards past you down the sidewalk at lightning speed, the only reason you know it's her is a flash of her flaming red hair as well as Lucas Sinclair trying to keep up with her on his own board, a nervous expression written on his features as he carefully maneuvers.  Nancy Wheeler hurriedly gets into her car, wrapping up her workday at The Hawkins Post while Jonathan Byers gives her cheek a kiss and heads over toward Will and Joyce.   

The Under-Ground comes into view as you round the corner, the brick building vacant of customers at the moment from what you can tell through the windows.  The evening rush hasn’t picked up yet, usually kicking in at around six when the college students like yourself would make themselves at home and study over lattes and espresso shots.  The bell chimes above the door as you pull it open, the smell of coffee beans and pastries flooding your nose and some upbeat jazz playing through the speakers.  Robin sits atop the counter much to the boss, Ronnie's dismay but he’s not around to scold her.  Her dirty blonde bob is freshly trimmed, bangs laying just right across her forehead while she has a lollipop sticking out her mouth and she skims through a magazine lazily.  One leg is hitched up onto the counter with her bright yellow converse on display, knee to her chest.  She’s wearing jeans with a few holes and a vintage tee.  Her bright blue eyes glance up and land on you, face lighting up as she greets you.  “Hey, Robin!” you greet back, making your way behind the counter to clock in on the computer.  

“You’re lucky, it’s been dead for hours.” she says while setting aside the magazine.  “Think it’s gonna rain too so it’ll probably stay that way.” she continues.  

“Good, I can probably catch up on some homework then.” you hum, punching in your employee number.

“Oh and some new guy is supposed to close with you tonight, I think you’re training him.” she mentions.

“So, no catching up on homework then.” you sigh.  Training someone new wasn't necessarily difficult however it was draining since you already knew how to do everything like the back of your hand.  Dumbing it all down always took a minute since you had to slow down and give them time to catch on.  

“Did Ronnie say who?” you ask, turning to face Robin.  Hawkins was small which meant that everyone knew everyone.  Which was unfortunate sometimes since that also meant everyone knew everyone's business.

Robin hops off the counter, hair bouncing as she does.  “Nope, I just know that it's some dude.” she crunches down on her lollipop and discards the stick in the garbage a few feet away.  

With a sigh, you head to the back room to put your bag in your locker only to find Steve lounging at the lunch table, his feet crossed on top of it while scrolling through his phone and two legs of the chair he occupies off the ground as he balances.  Today he sports some red corduroy pants and an ivory crewneck sweater finished off with converse, just like Robin’s, only black.  “What’s up?” he greets, not once looking up from his phone.  

“Scrolling through Tinder again, Stevie?” you mock while setting your bag in your locker for safe keeping, hooking the lock around the metal and clicking it into place.

“Actually, it’s Grindr.” he says matter of factly.  

“My bad, you find anyone cute?” you ask, peering over his shoulder, his aftershave smelling subtle and pleasant.   

He lands on a cute blonde guy with green eyes, most likely from a town over.  “Not really.” he exhales, running a hand through his voluminous hair.  

“Well what about him?  He’s pretty cute.” you encourage.  

“Dude, it says he likes to do Karaoke for fun.” he glances behind at you with a raised brow.  You shrug, unaware of why that would deter him.  

“If that's not a red flag, I don’t know what is.” he states, shutting his phone off and shoving it in his pocket while standing, making his way to the vending machine.  “What happened to me, Socks?  I used to pull 'em left and right and now no guy or girl will give me the time of day.”  Socks was your nickname given by Steve and Robin after the dreadful incident where a pipe burst from one of the sinks and you happened to be standing in front of it, the bottom half of your pants along with your socks becoming soaked.  The rest of the evening you worked your shift without shoes, only in your sopping wet socks with your jeans rolled up.  It had been an ongoing joke since, although you always reminded them how horrible it is to go around in wet shoes, the squeaky sound they would make against the floor and the squishiness of the soles.  They always disagreed, insisting that it would be worse to work in only socks and how they’d just opt to continue wearing the drenched shoes.  

“Steve, I think Grindr and Tinder and all the dating apps might be giving you unrealistic expectations.” you tell him truthfully.  

“Okay, but who the hell else am I gonna find in Hawkins?  Been there, done that, this is my only option."  He inserts a dollar into the vending machine and punches in his selection, shortly after a bag of pretzels falls.  

“Pretzels, Steve?  Really?” you taunt.  “How bland of you.” you deadpan.  He pulls open the packaging and tosses a pretzel in his mouth all while giving you his signature pout.  “Maybe that's your issue, you dumb yourself down for these people you don’t even know.” you continue.

“Wow.” he raises his arms in disbelief, a hint of humor evident.  “That…” he flings a pretzel at you, hitting your chest.  “...was mean.” he sasses.  “But probably true.” he finishes.  “Don’t you have a job or something?” his head tilts toward the door.  

“Yeah, and so do you.” you shoot back, grabbing his apron from where it hung over one of the breakroom chairs and throwing it at him.  

Exiting the room, you hear Steve chime in one more time.  “I’m off in like fifteen!”  Your shifts always overlapped with Steve and Robin’s, them usually taking the morning to afternoon shift and you taking over closing.  Ronnie would always hang out in the back office so you didn’t have to close alone but that was pretty much the extent of his labor.  The beans needed to be ground for the next day, chairs stacked on the tables, bathroom tidied, ingredients prepped, counters wiped down, etc.  And you were always the one to do it, not that you minded so much.  Ronnie never micromanaged and you had gotten good at closing so it became somewhat of a meditation time.  The town winded down and the dim lighting provided a relaxing glow, almost as if you were in a spa.  You could at least pretend anyway.

Robin was making herself a latte, carefully pouring the milk over the coffee in an attempt to make a design.  She’d been practicing for weeks with no success.  “Dammit!  Another wasted latte!” she slams the small pitcher of cream onto the counter.  

“That for me?” you question over her shoulder, spotting the blob of white draped over the coffee.  You ended up drinking them most of the time, always looking forward to your daily latte handcrafted by Robin.  

Letting a breath out, she hangs her head in defeat.  “It is now.” 

Steve saunters out from the back, stopping in his tracks right next to Robin.  “Another one?  Seriously?” he mutters before continuing to the espresso machine to make probably his fourth drink of the day.  

“When is the new guy scheduled to come in?” you ask as you pour yourself an iced coffee.  Everyone was allowed one free drink a day however it was never enforced unless the owner, Ronnie’s mom was around.  She owned The Under-Ground while her husband owned The Hideout.

“5:30, I think?” Robin answers.  The clock on the register currently reads 5:20.  Steve glances at you, trying to hide a smirk as he quickly looks in the other direction.  

“What?” you demand.  Shaking his head he continues pouring an espresso shot into paper to go cup.  A tug on his sleeve doesn’t get him to budge.  “Steve, why did you give me that look?!” you hound him.  

“Nothing!” he raises his hands in defense, a shit eating grin on his face.  

“Steve.” you narrow your eyes at him, brows knit in frustration.  

“Yeah, Steve.  What do you know that I don’t?” Robin steps towards him while crossing her arms in offense.  

“Nothing!” He lies, taking a sip of his coffee.

“Steve.” Robin glares at him.

“Y’know, this is already getting to me.” he points to his cup.  “I gotta run to the bathroom.” he rushes to the back once again, holding his stomach and pretending to grimace in pain.

“What’s up with him?” you look at Robin, the two of you left standing there without any idea.  She shrugs, handing you the botched latte she just made.  

Pushing aside your theories, you begin setting up for your shift, restocking the cups and making sure there’s enough whip cream in the canister.  The Under-Ground had a very cozy vibe, dark mahogany woods decorating the interior, little twinkly lights draped above the windows, and a snug book nook tucked away in the back corner with large shelves that took up the whole wall.  Accompanying it are a few tables and chairs, their wood matching the counter and on top of each table sits various houseplants that you’d have to remind yourself to water.  

Robin tops off the pastries as she always does at the end of her shift, adding some chocolate croissants, blueberry muffins, brownies, and a brand new lemon loaf to the case.  She finishes off by wiping off the glass with a rag and then ensures the display of gift cards and bags of coffee beans on the counter is dusted off and pristine.  

You busy yourself by restocking the to-go sandwiches in the open cooler at the front of the counter, making a note to also grab a few more parfaits from the back since those were running low as well.  A few books are scattered among one of the tables so you take it upon yourself to collect them and tuck them neatly back on the book shelf.  Other than that, nothing else is left to do and you should be ready to start training the new hire without any distractions.  You reward yourself by sipping on the latte, the bitter taste gracing your tongue and warmth coating your throat.  Robin disappears to the back briefly, coming back out with her bag while shoving her apron into it, ready to clock out the second it hits 5:30.

The roaring of an engine suddenly echoes in the streets, an obnoxious sputtering filling your ears as you glance up and out of the front window.  It comes to a screeching halt as a motorcycle pulls up into one of the parking spots horizontally rather than vertically like the rest of the vehicles.  Jackass, you think to yourself as the owner kicks the kickstand down.  He wears a standard black motorcycle helmet, a leather jacket, ripped black jeans, and some combat boots, a walking stereotype for some kind of punk ass kid.  

Jim Hopper catches him, his cop car parked a few spaces away while he does his crossword in the driver’s seat.  You can’t quite make out what's being said but as Hopper exits his car in a hurry,  you can tell they have most likely had run-ins like this before.  The jackass looks up in aggravation as he still straddles the bike, the sky reflected in the visor of his helmet.  Hopper appears to be telling him off but not giving him a ticket when he most definitely should.  Jackass reparks the bike correctly, gesturing to it as if he’d performed a magic trick, Hopper with a hand on his hip and a scowl on his face.  He points a finger at him, muttering one last thing before retreating back to his own car, eyes never leaving the guy.  

Steve emerges from the back again, carefully.  “Shit.” he mumbles.

Your gaze moves from the scene outside to behind you at Steve who is also now looking out the window.  This provokes you to look back outside.  Just as you’re about to ask, the jackass removes his helmet, revealing a head of wild brunette curls, his hand adorned in chunky rings as he grips the helmet.  Rolling your eyes, you turn your attention back to inputting some inventory in the computer.  Out of the corner of your eye you can see that he’s making his way toward the door.  “Are you kidding me?” you say under your breath.  

“Thought trendy coffee wasn’t his style.” you say to no one in particular.  Steve inhales as if waiting for some kind of impact.  

“Oh…” Robin says in some kind of realization.  

The bell above the door rings as he swings it open, striding across the shop and in front of the counter, his eyes are a dark abyss as he looks from you to Robin and then to Steve.  

“Munson.” Steve acknowledges him.

“Harrington.” he says back, a tinge of disgust rolling off his tongue.  Robin’s eyes are wide as they shift between you two.

“What do you want, Eddie?” you bite, voice full of malice as you glare up at him.

Bringing his hand to his chest, his face contorting into a mock pout, he sets the helmet on the counter.  “Ouch.  That make you feel better, sweetheart?”  Sarcasm drips from his tone.

You scoff about to tell him to leave but he just continues.  “Make you feel all big and bad?  Get it out of your system yet?” he taunts, a smirk playing on his lips.  

“Oh no.” Robin says quietly, leaning over you to clock out and then subtly making her way around the counter.  

“Why don’t you get the hell out of here and find someone else to dick around with?” you snap, grabbing his helmet and forcing it into his hands. 

A cocky look takes over his features.  “Well what if I’m a paying customer?” 

 “I have the right to refuse service so, I’m refusing.” you can feel anger coursing through your veins, blood running hot.  

“That’s unfortunate.” he frowns, moving to make his way behind the counter.  “For you.” his stare burns into you, two black holes nearly swallowing you up.  

“I don’t have time-” you begin but are cut off when he reaches over you and starts typing away at the computer, clocking in.  His cheap cologne and cigarette smoke flood your nose.

Steve looks at you apologetically as Eddie passes him on his way to the back.  A silence lingers as you process that you’ll be forced to work with the one person in this town you can’t stand.  Eddie Munson was the new hire and of course he had to be scheduled on the closing shift with you.  Life couldn’t get any worse than this, a shitty apartment, and now a shitty job that you used to love combined with mountains of homework.  Your eternal hell.  Work was supposed to be a place you could briefly escape.  Sure it was still work but you didn’t mind.

“Steve!” both you and Robin scold him at the same time.  He squeezes his eyes shut in preparation for more yelling.  

“You knew Ronnie hired him and you just didn’t tell me!” you seethe.  “You could have warned me!  I could have switched shifts or something-or, or–or tell Ronnie he’s a criminal or something!  So he wouldn’t get hired!” your eyes are bulging out of your head as you reprimand the poor guy.  

“Okay, see, the way you're reacting right now doesn’t give me any confidence that you would have reacted any differently if I told you earlier.” Steve explains while clocking out.  

“So you think springing it on her like that was any better!” Robin says loudly.  Steve contemplates for a moment.

“Look, Socks.  I’m sorry.” he apologizes sincerely.  

“Socks?” Eddie stands in the doorway that leads to the back, now free of his leather jacket and wearing a black Metallica tee.  “What kinda fucked up thing did you do for a nickname like that?” he asks, a smug grin on his face.

“Oh, kill me now.” you drag your hands down your face in agony.  Steve and Robin slowly make their way toward the front door, looking at you sympathetically.

“See you tomorrow?” Robin awkwardly points finger guns at you before they speed up and shuffle out the door.

You sigh heavily, dropping your arms limply to your sides.  Turning around, Eddie is about to speak up again but you cut him off. 

“I don’t wanna hear it.  You don’t talk unless it's about work.  I’ll train you today and then I’ll ask Ronnie to move you to mornings or something.” you tell him in one breath.  

He laughs before replying.  “You’d like that wouldn’t you?  Hate to be the bearer of bad news but you’re stuck with me, doll.” he chuckles lowly.  “I only work nights.” he says with that stupid grin.  

“Who did I piss off for this to happen?” you mumble to yourself, rubbing at your temples.  “Put this on.” you shove an apron at his chest.

He grunts at the impact.  “No.” he simply says, refusing to grab it from you.  His expression is blank.

Scoffing, you shove it against him even harder.  “This is work.  We work here.  Stop acting like a damn child.” you say sternly.  

Now taking the apron in his hand, you think he’s finally come to his senses until he bunches it up and tosses it onto one of the counters, eliciting a groan from you.  You were foolish to think he would play nice.

–

Trying to train Eddie was as useful as training a fly.  He didn’t listen and would purposely mess things up claiming he didn’t know any better and he almost charged one of your only customers that night double the actual cost.  It was like watching a toddler, you couldn’t take your eyes away from him or all hell would break loose.  The cherry on top was all the snide comments he would make which led to more bickering.  

When it came to closing time at 9:00, you were exhausted and could practically feel the eyebags hanging off your face.  There was not enough espresso in the world to keep up with Eddie’s antics.  You were counting the money from the register, making sure all was accounted for, Eddie watching as he was supposed to be learning when really he was zoned out.  

“Alright, Socks, are we done here?” he says with a bored tone.  

You glance between him and the cash, still counting under your breath while ignoring him.  Poking your arm, he tries again.  “Socks.  I got things to do.” he continues.  “Hey, I’m talking to you–”

“--Oh my god, just go.” you break, finally completing your counting and setting the money back in the drawer neatly.  

“Fuck yeah.” he whispers, rushing to the back to collect his things.  Pinching the bridge of your nose, you only hope he quits before you have to work another shift with him.  Eddie wasn’t just an asshole, he was the asshole who was partially responsible for your shitty high school experience.  You know it's dumb, there’s no reason to let something keep a hold on you for so long but it just does.  It makes you cringe, it's like the equivalent to peaking in high school but opposite, and yet you can’t seem to look past it.

Nothing but the twinkly lights and the dim overhead lights lit up the shop, a moment of peace taking over you while the town outside laid itself to rest.  Shutting off the music and untying your apron to drape it over your arm, you do one more scan to make sure everything is set for tomorrow.  Satisfied, you head to the back to retrieve your bag.  Eddie passes you, almost running you over on his way out, his stupid helmet in hand.  

“See ya tomorrow, Socks.” he salutes as he clocks out, shortly after you hear the bell chime signaling that he had left.  He was overusing that nickname but you knew it would only please him to call it out.  You had to keep your cool until he figured out he didn’t fit in here and quit.  Exhaling, you unlock your locker, grabbing your bag and tossing your apron in before exiting and heading for the door.  

The door is locked and double checked as you step out onto the sidewalk only to find that it was still raining.  Just my luck.  Eddie’s dumb motorcycle roars to life again a few feet away from you, a nuisance to the tranquil town around you.  Rolling your eyes, you begin your damp journey home.  It’s not until you’re in front of the movie theater that you hear that damn bike behind you.  You think he’s going to speed past you, maybe splash some water on you while he’s at it but the engine rumbles as if right next to you–which it was.  

“Are you lost?” you spit, continuing to walk.  

He rides beside you slowly, irritating you to your core.  “Need a ride home?” he asks, slightly muffled by his helmet.  

You huff before responding.  “No.  I don’t need anything from you.  Get the hell out of here.”  You keep your gaze straight ahead as you walk, him still following behind.

“Sweetheart–”

“--Do NOT call me that.  Ever.  Again.” you scold, taking a moment to point your finger at him, your face displaying disdain toward him.

“Look, I may be an asshole but it's raining.  I can give you a ride.” he coaxes but it doesn’t work.  You keep on, the rain drops collecting on your eyelashes.  

“Get bent, Eddie.” you say, now walking faster, hoping to evade him.

He lifts the visor on the helmet, now showing his eyes as he keeps up with you.  “Get on the damn bike.”

“Fuck you.” you snap at him.

Desperate, you start jogging across the crosswalk and that's when he gives up.  Glancing behind you, he flips the visor down and revs the bike before speeding off.  You weren’t stupid and you weren’t going to play into his little sadist games.  Life was already steamrolling you and you did not need some jackass to factor into it.  After a few minutes of walking, you finally rounded the corner and the faded powder blue apartments came into view, street lights illuminating the way.  The streets were sleek with rain and oil, giving off reflections of the traffic lights and buildings.  You were careful to scurry your way across the parking lot to avoid any of the creeps that hung around late at night.  It wasn’t exactly the best area, being notorious for drug deals and any other illegal side hustles.  

Raphael’s spot on the stairs was vacant due to the downpour which you frowned at, you always looked forward to seeing him upon coming home.  A few skeezy looking men stood nearby however they seemed to be involved in their own drama as they argued and took no interest in you.  Gratefully, you continued quietly up the stairs and hurriedly unlocked the door, jamming the key in the lock until it gave out to you.  

Slipping into your nightly routine, you begin to unwind as much as you can.  A quick shower awaited you since the hot water was limited and you couldn’t wait to munch on one of the sandwiches you snagged from work.  In your defense Ronnie had ordered way too many for the week and the back fridge was overflowing with them.  The local deli they came from, Anderson’s had some fairly good quality meats and cheeses so for that you were thankful as they pretty much kept you fed.  Tonight’s would be turkey and swiss with mayo on sourdough, your favorite.  The lights flickered on as you hit the switch, another quirk that came with the run down apartment.  The living room and entryway were now bathed in a warm and quite dim glow, or in other words if you wanted to read a book, it’d be quite difficult to see.  Shivering from being drenched in rain, you set your bag on the kitchen counter adjacent to the entryway and start taking off your damp clothes, peering into your room to toss them into the hamper and slipping into the bathroom.  It was a tight space, not a whole lot of room to do much but it was home.  

Turning the faucet to ‘hot’, you wait for the water to get warm enough to bear, the fluorescent lighting of the bathroom still bothered you no matter how long you lived there.  You stood on the bath mat feeling the water with your finger until it was to your satisfaction, stepping in and feeling welcomed by the sudden warmth you’d been waiting for all day.  In that moment you feel relief from the pressures of the world, the deadlines, bills, loans, essays, all of it.  Everything melts away for approximately three minutes and that's when the water starts to turn cold again, returning you back to the dreadful reality you wish you could neglect.  

But to your dismay, the cycle just starts all over again, keeping you hostage.

~end~

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Masterlist

tags - @mmunson86 @haylaansmi

[selfdestructivecat]

I’ve seen quite a few posts in response to Thomas’ recent video, specifically his year in review. In this video, he discusses the setbacks he’s faced the past few years — such as the quarantine, Joan’s departure, and his own personal doubts and insecurities — and how they impacted the production of Sanders Sides.

And I truly sympathize with him. No, seriously! It’s already difficult to create something this big almost entirely on your own, but I’m sure this year only made things even more difficult. I know I’ve definitely felt insecure to the point of feeling sick when it came to things I created, so I can empathize with the enormous amount pressure he must be feeling.

However, many posts I’ve seen following this video are saying things along the lines of “If people still criticize Thomas after this video, then I’m going to lose it” or “Not that people who criticize Thomas even care, but Thomas really struggled this year. I’m with him all the way!”, or even “I bet SaSi critics will still demand the finale even after this. I doubt they’ll even watch the video!”

I want to clarify that this is obviously not everyone who doesn’t like ts criticism. People who block criticism blogs and/or the tag, who ignore criticism in general, or who feel upset when they see criticism of something they love: this is not about you. You are absolutely valid and entitled to feeling the way you do, and I hope you have a lovely day. Feel free to block me if that would be good for your mental health. Please take care of yourself. /gen

But to those vocally condemning ts critics, I want to make several things clear.

First of all, you are lumping everyone who criticizes the show in with people who demand the finale with no regard for Thomas’ well-being, for the well-being of his crew, and for basic common sense. While many people are upset that the finale isn’t out yet, we aren’t specifically mad that we don’t have a completed video to watch; rather, we are frustrated with what this says about the SaSi crew, their work ethic, and how they treat fans of the show.

We aren’t upset that we can’t watch the finale right now. We are upset that we’ve gotten very few updates about the show during this period between canon episodes. This video provided wonderful insight into why the finale has been delayed, and we would have loved something like this years ago. Obviously it didn’t have to be a 20 minute video, but maybe a Twitter thread? Something small that made us feel heard?

Hell, even announcing an official hiatus would have satisfied the vast majority of critics (myself included), instead of throwing SaSi into this limbo of “Oh it’s going to be finished this year, we promise- oh whoops, never mind! Next year for sure!” It’s been a constant chain of broken promises, and we were more than happy to give the crew some grace the first few times, but after a while, a repeated mistake becomes a pattern. And this pattern is not pretty.

We are upset that the crew seems incredibly disorganized (going back to the lack of updates, and of course taking into account how we haven’t gotten even a single part of the finale in five years), which could affect the quality of this series we all love so dearly. beauty-and-passion has spoken about this a lot (and is a lot more eloquent than me lmao, please go check out their stuff!) The most recent Christmas video seems to demonstrate that the series may be on the right track, and I will admit I was wrong in regards to this video, but the Inside Out video is a mess in so many ways. Even if this doesn’t prove a decline in quality, it certainly indicates a lack of consistency, which can be just as damning for a series.

We are upset that, while SaSi is in this limbo, Thomas seems to have been focusing on his other projects without telling us about this change in priority. He is welcome to pursue other projects, obviously. I’m thrilled that he is having fun with Roleslaying with Roman and My Roommate is Hades. But these new projects have come at the cost of Sanders Sides content, which also points towards a lack of organization. Some clarity towards which projects Thomas chooses to focus on would have been wonderful and greatly appreciated, so that we know not to expect something we won’t receive. And hey, maybe if we knew not to expect SaSi content until much later, maybe we wouldn’t have been constantly asking why we weren’t receiving SaSi content?

(And this is not an excuse for aggressively demanding content, obviously. But I feel like people who are confused and frustrated at not receiving something promised to them are justified in these feelings.)

And maybe we’re jumping to conclusions in many regards. I won’t pretend that we are prophets who can peer into Thomas’ mind and know what he’s thinking and feeling at all times. But it’s pretty damn difficult to say that NONE of the above could suggest that Sanders Sides isn’t held in the same regard as it once was. Hell, Thomas even admits in the video that he doesn’t feel as connected with these characters as he once did.

Second, many people attacking critics are also quick to drag their character. We are impatient, greedy, selfish, and cruel. We don’t care about Thomas; we only care about the end product! More Sanders Sides at any cost! We don’t like critical thinking, since we obviously didn’t watch the video; we only want to find mean things to say about Thomas and the show! We don’t like engaging in civil debate with our fellow Fanders who may disagree with our opinions; we only want to make other people feel bad, and to make others hate the show, too!

Well, guess what? You’re doing to us exactly what you think we’re doing to Thomas: you’re assuming the absolute worst of us and looking for any reason to drag us down.

We are critics. We analyze media (media that we love, mind you) and we acknowledge that it isn’t perfect, that the creators aren’t perfect, and we point it out. But we still love it anyway, because to truly love something is to love it with its flaws, to know that it could be better, to brainstorm how it could reach its true potential, and to keep doing so because you believe in this potential.

We aren’t trying to take away the joy you feel from Sanders Sides. So please don’t try to take away ours.