#if a single person asks about any other cats I cannot be stopped from posting about them

[engagemythrusters]

????? i literally never said that you’re infantilizing yourself . it’s just weird to see posts about autistic coded characters being UNABLE to be people in power all because they aren’t social like jesus christ

Ah, but you see, this is not at all what you said in your last ask. What you said was, and I quote, "stop fucking infantilising din djarin bc he's autistic coded! [...] it's weird how you're putting it out there that people with autism 'no like people uwu'" Which. Absolutely implies that you think people not liking being around people qualifies as being infantilised. But! Maybe that was unintentional. I'll grant you that.

So, instead, we will talk about infantilisation, and how my post was not even CLOSE to infantilisation.

To start with, we need to define infantilisation. I'll give a couple decent definitions from multiple sources, just so we can get a good picture.

1: "to treat as if infantile" (Merriam-Webster), with the definition of "infantile" being: " of or relating to infants or infancy" and "suitable to or characteristic of an infant" 2: "the prolonged treatment of one who is not a child, as though they are a child" (Wikipedia--not a great source to pull directly from, but reputable enough to get my point across) 3: "the action of prolonging or perpetuating a state of infancy" (Oxford Dictionary)

So, from this we can extrapolate that "infantalisation" means "treating a non-child like a child." Great! We know the word. But this means nothing if we don't know how would someone treat another person like a child. How do we treat a child? How would that treatment be demeaning?

There are multiple ways people reduce a child's personhood. There's the matter of cuteness, where people only see how sweet and adorable the children can be, and treat them as if a doll or a pet. Then there's how dependent children are, which can be easily manipulated by elders. And, similarly, children are often considered non-autonomous.

Okay. So now we've discussed what infantilisation is and how children are treated. Let's put it together. What are some examples of infantilisation?

Here's one: today I saw a video of a fairly attractive East Asian woman in a frog costume. She was embarrassed to be seen without the costume's hat. The many, many comments only addressed one thing: how adorable she is. How cute and sweet it is. How does this relate to infantilisation? This would be that first one--only seeing how doll-like children (and this lady) can be. There was no discussion about how "relatable" it is to be embarrassed about something, no discussion about why she was in a frog costume, not even a comment about why someone was videoing this in the first place (after all, she did not consent to this, and it was embarrassing to her!). There was not one single comment relating to her being a person. It was all gushing over her adorableness. Not attractiveness. Adorableness. Akin to the way someone would fawn over a cat. (This is a huge issue with how Westerners treat East Asians, by the way.)

Now, that subject isn't particularly relevant. So let's try another one, this time relating to Din Djarin.

In a hypothetical scenario, say someone said, "Din Djarin can't rule because it requires him to make all the decisions and he can't do that." This would, in most scenarios, be infantilising. This takes away his independence, making him rely on others. This makes him non-autonomous, unable to govern himself. BUT. This could also be interpreted another way. Certain autistic people--myself included--cannot always make decisions for themselves. I find it absolutley impossible to make some decisions sometimes. Deciding exactly where I want to sit to eat dinner can put me off of eating dinner at all if I can't figure out what I want. Not able to decide which type of food I need to buy makes me not buy any food at all. If I do not get outside help, I will severly impact my life.

So, there's two sides to that one. Maybe Din Djarin couldn't make decisions for himself (he can, but again, hypothetical). That would be just fine. Now, would it be great in a leadership position? No, not really. I wouldn't be able to be in a leadership position because of this. I need directions, very specific ones.

When does it become infantilisation, then? If lack of independence means just that someone needs help sometimes (or a lot of the time! or even all of the time!!), where's the line between "help" and "infantilisation?" The answer is: intent and generalisation.

In the case of intent, infantalisation (in this hypothetical scenario) is that "he should not be allowed to rule as Mand'alor because he is too stupid to make decisions for himself." This implies negotive connotations to the inability to make decisions always. Lack of intelligence is not inherently bad. Lack of decision-making skills is not inherently bad. Not being able to lead is not inherently bad. BUT when the implication is that all of these things ARE bad, that's when it becomes infantilisation. He can't do anything; thus, we consider him childish (and we consider children useless). The intent is to harm and demean. (Non-infantilisation--aka viewing him as the adult and person he is--would be saying "he shouldn't be Manda'lor because he needs help in a way that would be counterintuitive to himself" because it would be, in this hypothetical, detrimental to expect him to constantly decide. This is acknowleging his limits and respecting his boundaries. That's never, ever a bad thing.)

In the case of generalisation, infantilisation would be, "autistic people should never rule." This is based off stereotype. And, while stereotype does indeed come from the fact that some people DO fit that stereotype, we can all acknowledge and accept that treating every single person in one category as if they fit that is WRONG. So, to generalise that all autistic people cannot rule, even though some truly couldn't (people with high support needs do exist!! we low support need autistics can't ignore them in our conversations. they can't always add themselves to the conversations like we can), would be stripping every single autistic of their identity. Making everyone of any minority out to be the same is removing identity. Meaning, stripping them of their autonomy and personhood.

That's infantilisation.

Here is why my post is absolutely not infantilisation.

My post states that Din Djarin should not rule over all of Mandalore because he "literally wants nothing to do with people a good two-thirds of the time. Man likes his son and that’s about it." Does this "cutesify" him beyond acknowledging his personhood? Nope! Does this strip him of dependence, either in intent or generalisation? Nope! Does this remove his autonomy, again in either intent or generalisation? Nope!

I also said that "this guy fuckin loves his job and he’d get way fuckin agitated if he couldn’t shoot someone down every few days" which... definitely implies a lot of competency. That is completely the antithesis of infantilisation. So, cutesifying, stripping independence, removing autonomy? Definitely nope.

What I have said can be summed up, in a rather basic and nuance-less definition, is that Din Djarin is too much of a "lone-wolf" trope sort of guy to be governing people all the time. Aka. He would be tired of people. Aka. Need for independence. Aka. Autonomous. And like... where's cutsey in that?

And even the comment on "He’d end every day crying himself to sleep. Either that or staring at the ceiling so hard it collapses on him and he never has to get up again." Again. No cutsey. No dependency. No non-autonomy. The closest I can get to thinking how this would relate to infantilisation is that I said "cry" which is something children do indeed do. But so do adults. Everyone can cry. There's no age limit to crying. ESPECIALLY if you're mentally exhausted all of the time.

Maybe you think the tag "man is so full of autism" is generalisation? That one I guess I can see if you misinterpret it. And maybe you did! Messages can get mixed--I again grant you this. It was not intended to be a generalisation. It was, in fact, based on ME. MY autism. and how it can QUITE OFTEN look like how DIN DJARIN acts. I don't like being around people for very long. He doesn't seem to either. I can make a veeery detailed post on this (which would also literally elaborate further on what the original post said) but that is neither here nor there. You misunderstood. That's okay. Move on.

BUT. Now that we've cleared up there is NO INFANTILISATION IN MY POST, let's clarify what YOU think I said.

You think I said that "autistic people are unable to be in power." This is not what I said. We've just covered the entire post, so I think you can see where I did not, in any case, say this. I said Din Djarin would not want to be in power, because it would be awful for him. There's NOTHING about ability in there. I did not say he couldn't. Nowhere! Not once! He's a very capable man--which I did indeed connote later!

So. NOT ONCE DID I EVER INFANTILISE DIN DJARIN'S AUTISTIC-CODED, BESKAR'GAM-CLAD SELF.

What you have done is taken a well-founded opinion I have (which I am still fully willing to back up with canon proof) and twisted it up because You. Didn't. Agree.

You don't HAVE to agree with me. You can think he'd be well-off in that position. Good for you. We all deserve opinions.

But you do NOT get to throw "infantilisation" around at A DISABLED PERSON like a fucking buzzword just because YOU DID NOT AGREE.

Sit on this. Reflect. And next time you find something you don't agree with. Remember your literature classes, rather than making a baseless "call out" on anon on the fucking internet.

#I have a degree in rhetoric. I know. What. I'm. Talking. About. #anyway. I'm tired of people throwing out important terms like buzzwords. #as someone with multiple disabilities. THIS WAS VERY CONCERNING TO ME.

[wellofhavoc]

Gurofriend evidence stuff:

Conspiracy theories, mass scale accusations, and 9 specific accusations of rape, child rape and cat-murder with zero evidence.

There is no conceivable way every single person they’ve reblogged including random anons personally IRL raped them and have stalked them for 10 years and are all literal sexual abusers.

The weird conspiracy theory is that like half of all humanity are pedophiles, I THINK? And fiction they like is a “textbook” on how to stop it (“gooner” = “porn addict”)

1. https://www.tumblr.com/gurofriend/725402589896851456/there-are-two-subspecies-within-humanity

2. https://www.tumblr.com/gurofriend/725863975932346368/give-the-gooner-psyops-a-rest

3. https://www.tumblr.com/gurofriend/725589979579006976/how-are-you-going-to-get-rid-of-the-pedos-by-being

(also accusing an anon AND everyone they reblog from of having “personally raped” them IRL and stalked them for 10+ years)

3. https://www.tumblr.com/gurofriend/725383015053836288/oooh-no-everybody-does-jensen-have-a-tumblr-i

“Satanic panic & alt right pedophilic conspiracies are all real”: https://www.tumblr.com/gurofriend/725374834723389440/what-if-both-of-these-things-were-true-and

“I can tell rapists from vibes alone” (Ie nobody they’re accusing is based on evidence): https://www.tumblr.com/gurofriend/725942283649925120/ppl-acccusing-you-of-calling-innocent-strangers

More personal accusations, including anons bc those obviously cannot have evidence:

They’ve been anon’d by people begging them to stop accusing strangers bc it’s triggering to C/SA victims and they called THAT person a rapist: https://www.tumblr.com/gurofriend/725847968234733568/please-stop-calling-random-strangers-rapists-and

There was this @ someone else who asked them to cool it: https://www.tumblr.com/gurofriend/725558801702535168/hi-its-very-obvious-that-youre-going-through

More accusations just from whoever they happen to reblog from, so nonspecific they’re v clearly based on nothing:

https://www.tumblr.com/gurofriend/725735707155513344/why-are-the-serial-cat-killer-rape-spacebattlers

https://www.tumblr.com/gurofriend/725594448668557312/any-other-catgirls-youre-a-big-fan-of

(Calling a trans woman a groomer and sex freak, classy!) https://www.tumblr.com/gurofriend/725593561789349888/hey-where-is-that-gc-can-you-point-me-to-it-silly

https://www.tumblr.com/gurofriend/725559099530608640/you-are-not-sorry-clearly-because-no-rape-victim

“Literally everyone I don’t like is probably a creep & should die” stuff: https://www.tumblr.com/gurofriend/725376882894340096/nope-lets-expand-that-target-list-there-are

Comments of this post are absolutely insane (like 10+ including death threats/suicide baiting etc, directed at post OP and 2 people in the notes): https://www.tumblr.com/gurofriend/725407673534775296/sure-thanks-for-playing-bye-bye

“I can tell if someone is a rapist from their fanfic”: https://www.tumblr.com/gurofriend/725997512133050368/httpswwwtumblrcomgurofriend72555188844096716

https://www.tumblr.com/gurofriend/725589979579006976/how-are-you-going-to-get-rid-of-the-pedos-by-being

Just posting this publicly having gone through it- Hope everyone else is staying safe. If anyone knows Gurofriend personally, maybe check on them and see if they're okay- Didn't know about them prior to this mess, but from a brief search, I can see they have a lot of friends in the Utena community and seem to have a history of lifting its members up but now they seem to be using the source material (along with those of other fictional works with similar themes) as some kind of justification and base for "trolling" random people who come across their posts.

#the most telling thing that this is just an uncoordinated attack on people and their characters is the fact that #i still don't know what they think i did #gurofriend #havoc blog

[theweirdestroller]

Headcanons Pt 1 - Nightmare's Gang

'Aight, I'm bored, haven't posted in ages, I need to do something. While I have been mostly inactive in the UTMV fandom, I thought it'd be fun to post some of my more uncommon headcanons! And some pretty common ones too, I guess. Here we go! This is all for sympathetic everyone btw. No heartless Sanses here!

Horror:

The shortest Sans in Nightmare's Gang. I will start fighting people over this. He was starved for years and people make him so much larger than the rest of the gang! He is tiny and spindly and it takes time for him to even begin to spar with the others

Best cook, 10/10, knows all the recipes. He had to spice up the lot of nothing he and Papy had, so he knows how to make a little go a long way and taste good

Really good at taking care of plants and animals. Always seems to be in tune with what others need.

Has sharper senses than most Sanses, minus his eyesight, but not by much

So nearsighted he needs glasses, but would break or loose them if he got any. His eye is too damaged to try contacts, physical or magical

Would be the best around children. Just, so caring and attentive. Panics a bit if they cry though

Isn't too science minded. I'd say since his AU deviated from canon Undertale, he'd focus less on science and more on food

Hates fish. Partially to do with Undyne, partially because their scales and gills freak him out. Hates cooking with them too

Very cuddly, loves being around as many people as possible

Killer:

Gonna say this once and only once: Human Killer would be ginger.

He cannot cook. Don't let this man into the kitchen. Not only is he a pyromaniac with poor self-control, he also swims in chaos and could not care less about the well-being of others

Has ADHD. Can't stand still for two seconds. Whenever Nightmare's lecturing or talking or something, he's always pacing around. Listening, but moving

Absolutely a cat person, but only has a single black cat and she's missing an eye

Is a flirt but terrified of romance. Hates it, can't stand it. Don't speak to my man about love. Personally, I think he's aroace, but flirts for fun

He can use knives as weapons but not for much else. Can't cut food, not very good at whittling, don't even get me started on peeling vegetables

Surprisingly, he is good at using knife-adjacent things, mostly tools that are basically just knives

I like people who headcanon him as a carver, because he totally would be. But I think his main medium for art would be clay. He has a potters wheel that he doesn't use too often as he likes sculpting without it

Dust:

Continuing on with the MTT, Dust can cook soup. He can make more, doesn't like to, don't ask him to

The most scientifically minded of Nightmare's Gang, he makes a lot of their chemical based weapons, smoke bombs, acids, and the like

His vision gets fuzzy during fights due to his magic, and nobody knows how to help. He's learned to fight with it, but it is a bit risky

Out of everyone in the gang, he gets overstimulated the easiest

He was the first of Nightmare's Gang. Then Killer, Horror, and lastly, Cross.

Chara had abandoned Dusttale for years before Nightmare found it, so Dust is used to absolute silence, he doesn't like it much

He doesn't like being around too many people at once, but it's better than being alone. He'll actively seek out company if it gets too quiet. Said company is often Horror, because H never really gets that loud

Nightmare's right-hand man and the braincell of the gang

Cross:

Has leukophobia and kenophobia

Great cook, rarely burns food, can make things taste good, and is probably the only one who is allowed to help Horror in the kitchen

Him and his Chara are actually pretty close. Not at first, obviously, but as time goes on, they both realize they are the only ones left of their AU. They hang on to each other when the memories don't shut up

Always finds a way to call Nightmare "my prince" or "your highness." Nightmare has asked him to stop, repeatedly

Likes climbing things. He'll go up into a tree and fall asleep there if someone lets him. Will also do this on rocks, walls, buildings, and people

Very quiet. His normal footsteps barely make any sound and he uses this to sneak up on people

Probably the most mischievous in the gang, second only to Killer. His best friend is Epic, this man is a complete and utter troll. Nightmare once woke up to his room flooded with rubber chickens. It wasn't Killer.

His voice is naturally so soft that you can barely hear him. His laugh sounds like a little imp though.

Well versed in sign language! His Frisk was mute and thus he had to learn it at a young age. He sometimes signs when he talks so the gang can understand him better. Granted, Nightmare is the only other person fluent in sign

Nightmare:

Freaking nerd.

Knows so many languages and three of them are dead. He had a lot of time on his hands after he left his AU

Had no idea he was farsighted until he found Dust, who could read things easily. He tried everything to make reading easier and just assumed that his goop had somehow ruined his vision

Can technically cook. There are no promises that it'll actually taste good though. It may also be burnt or expired.

He has to consume a mix of emotions and physical food to keep himself alive. He did not know he needed to eat until after he found Horror. The magical overload of the Apple Incident managed to sustain him. He passed out in front of Horror and was put on a "diet," if it can be called that

His corruption is semi-sentient. It's not malicious, but it's more selfish than Nightmare used to be. And I mean, Pass. Night was a doormat. He wouldn't fight back even if his life depended on it. The corruption keeps him from attempting to give everything he has to please others. It's still kind of an issue

He forgave Nim for everything she threw on him and Dream. Nobody in Nightmare's Gang thinks any of that was okay.

Really likes curling up with people. He'll drag some of the gang to a couch or bed and just curl his tentacles around them. Very cozy.

His magic is a bit of an "acquired taste." Without any prior exposure, it feels dangerous, threatening. But after time, one begins to realize it's like a blanket, covering and protective

Error:

Out off all the Sanses here who have eyesight issues, Error's are the worst. Not only does he naturally have poor vision, his glitching makes it way worse

Doesn't need or want food. He'll eat it to make others happy or less worried about him though

Knows a lot of string based arts, crochet is his favorite though

Has to sleep above the ground. No idea why, he just doesn't like sleeping on a bed, or chairs, or couches. He has to web himself a hammock and sleep ten feet above everyone else

Hates the sound of chewing. Annoys him to no end, will stab his own nonexistent ears if someone chews next to him

A bird person. He really likes parrots and cockatoos

Mildly leukophobic. He doesn't spend too much time in the anti-void because of that

Yes, he's brothers with Geno and Fresh. Yes, they both annoy him to no end. Yes, he would kill and die for them. No, they may not be in the same room as him. He's also the middle child

Was not born with dyslexia. Does not read or write enough to confirm or deny if he got it after he glitched. He does have it though

Likes gardening. Never forgets to tend to his plants

And there we go! I love all headcanons from anybody, it's so fun to see how other people see the same characters! I do love tiny Horror, though. I'll cover the Stars next. I'll keep them all sympathetic too, as much as I used to hate Dream as a person, he's a great character and I know how to write him with more emotions then just toxic positivity. As much as I love emotionless Ink, I never used to write him like that and it's still uncommon for me to do so today. Blue's just a bean, we've never had any issues anyway.

#nightmare's gang #horror #killer #dust #cross #nightmare #error #headcanon #just silly things

[pompadourpink]

I saw the ask with the lonely 19 yo and it was great advice. But what about ace people like me? I'm 29 and lonely too. If I am not comfortable with adult activities is there any hope I can find and keep a relationship?

Yes. I made sure to talk about that point in the other post for fear of seeing the original poster get coerced into something she is not ready for and her ambitions worried me. However, here are the good news: there is not a single way to be in a relationship, there are thousands.

There is always someone willing to look over a potential partner's peculiarities or eccentricities if they're impressed enough. All types of people get into relationships, regardless of their sexuality, appearance, health, personality, kinks, family, finances, schedule, job - good grief, even people with so many red flags they make Lenin wake up can find partners who manage to see something they like! Don't ever convince yourself that there is a part of you that makes you unlovable. Unless you are actively harming others, that is not a thing.

The first man I was with saw me hide my stretch marks and took my hand away to cover them in kisses, and I was never ashamed again. Another, the first one who matched my energy, went to the doctor within two weeks to get medication because he was allergic to my cats, and upon learning I had time blindness, ran home every night to cook and feed me. A few times, I caught myself saying he listened to me too much whenever he remembered details and he would shake his head and smile at my nonsense. I stopped thinking this way after a while. The men I've been around since went above and beyond to make me smile, laugh, think of them, feel appreciated, even when we never dated. I received Friday flowers because I was born on a Friday. I was unexpectedly Uber-eated Indian food when I had forgotten to eat. I danced barefoot in the rain and got carried home to not have to step in puddles. And it happened because I thought I deserved it, without asking.

But before the energy matcher, I systematically dated men who disappointed me, treated me badly, and dumped me without a second thought, because I was hurt and thought that they were the best I could do - even the first one. I had to learn how to become the smooth operator I am today, because I was co-dependent, a great aftereffect of my childhood, and I sabotaged myself without realising it for a long time. I didn't listen to my gut. I didn't respect myself. I was so eager to be loved I would become a vampire the second someone liked me, even though they hadn't even had the time to prove themselves and earn me, and they would get so spooked by my behaviour they cowardly behaved like donkeys so they wouldn't have to do the dumping, and eventually did do it when I accepted to go with it because of how desperate I was. I still had to recover from that, not because I missed them, but because I felt unlovable, again, because I hated myself, so I needed someone to love me. But that doesn't call for a good relationship. It's an exhausting way to live, and I'm actually proud of those men for putting themselves first.

That is why I mentioned the second point in my other post. You have to deeply love and accept yourself if you want to be in a healthy relationship. You need to think that you deserve the world, that you are fantastic and worthy of love. You have to feel complete alone. But also, and that is the hard part, you cannot have expectations. You cannot give a hundred chances to people who made it clear they don't like you. You cannot chase - by definition, they don't want to be caught. This part is why I was talking about making good friends first. You have been running after a train and been destroyed every time it started to slow down but then flew away from you again. Stop running and calm down. Find stationary trains, enter them, walk around with your head up, and leave if you're not wanted. Go on casual dates, join groups, use dating apps or social media to chat, just to get used to people's presence and flirting. Keep learning how to love yourself, regardless of your sexuality.

Think of a celebrity you find very attractive and confident. Can you imagine them starting to talk about moving in together after three weeks and crying themselves to sleep when their brand-new partner kindly states that it's too early? Probably not.

When your heartbeat goes down, your confidence up, and instead of chasing down a train that doesn't want you you are able to wait for one to stop and enter it like it's your home, there is going to be a passenger who will look up and like what they feel. And another one, and another one. And you'll start chatting and joking around, and they'll like what they hear, or they won't. And they'll learn that you are ace, just like they could learn that you have 18 parrots, vaginismus or a sun allergy, and some will take off there, and that is their choice, and some will stay.

Don't apologise for who you are, and don't try to tolerate those who try to make you feel guilty for it. Make yourself an easy choice, a gem, a sunflower, fireworks, and your dates will stop feeling like they're walking into a trap. They'll feel like they're walking into a dream, and they won't care that they can't get it.

Now, obviously, I'm not ace, so I can only recommend you join online communities of people with similar situations to figure out if you want to seek someone who also doesn't have a libido or if you prefer to meet regular guys, disclose the information quickly and decide together how to deal with it.

Focus on healing. Put serenity first. Love yourself like you want to be loved. One day, someone will make life feel like a movie and you will never remember that you ever felt this way. Just a bit more patience, dear.

Love,

Mum

#ask #malks

[showerbong]

i could eat tuna out of the can every single day if it wasn't for the mercury. seriously I love it you don't have to get out any tupperware and you can recycle the can when you're done. so you can feel like a GOOD PERSON doing GOOD in the world even though you're like gobbling down essentially cat food over the saucencrusted stove in your slovenly sweatpants in your uncared for apartment that you pay way too much fucking money for (but you don't really have the upfront cash that it would take to like move and also you would rather be in credit card debt than live with a roommate at this point). i have discovered recently that shredded slow cooked chicken breast is a nice alternative to exceeding your mercury allotment, though it does, rather unfortunately, require Tupperware. I usually just pluck little pinches of chicken shreds right out of the container in the fridge and drop it in my mouth like grated cheddar.

i am doing exactly this when you call. i feel like kendall jenner the week before the victorias secret fashion show, where she only eats like boiled chicken breast and cries a lot. "cccheay" I say. "what" you say. "sorry im just chewing." the chicken is stringy and kind of styrofoamy. it's getting packed down into a tacky fibrous ball into one of my back molars. youre just talking about your day and i want to pay attention, i do, but i just keep watching this insta reel montage of like 30 peoples reactions to this girl i VAGUELY knew from boston's pregnancy announcement. the reel is just like unrelenting clip after clip after clip of her like having drinks with another couple and passing them an "auntie & uncle" keychain or like her sitting on a couch with a couple of girls who open a card and start crying or her watching her father unroll a worlds best grandpa T shirt. all of the clips are overlayed with this insane song called moments to memories and there's no original audio, just exceedingly ordinary absolute amazement on each of their faces. i guess her husband like secretly filmed them all.

i guess i bring all this up because i have this girls desk, which like isnt that weird but i can't stop thinking about it. im staring at it right now, the desk, as im eating these dry chicken shreds with my fingers and you are on the phone talking about your day. all of the books i was supposed to read but didn't are sitting on top of this pregnant girls ikea desk that's in my living room but also in my bedroom since i live in a studio, and there's only one working hinge left on the little desk cabinet and i think the inside is stuffed with old magazines, but the thought of opening it to even see what's in there makes me nauseous. this girl was dating the roommate of my ex, which is how I met her, back when I was still dating my ex. and then when she and her bf, my exes roommate, you get it- so when they moved in together she had to get rid of all her like college era slovenly ikea furniture so she gave it to me for free. i think my boyfriend and i screamed at each other when we got it stuck at an angle in the bend of the staircase trying to lug it up to my 3rd floor apartment.

anyway the girl was nice but incredibly ordinary and just kind of unexciting. she asked me what highlighter i used no less than 6 times. for whatever reason i am currently convinced that she despises me and has told everyone we ever mutually knew that im an evil lying cunt with weird pussy lips. even though in reality i don't think she even remembers me, which infuriates me even more, so i like her post and then go through her profile and like the one before just so she's reminded that I exist.

i also cannot for the life of me remember if she's adopted or not, idk there was something weird at one point she had said about her parents, but this was in the middle of covid when i knew her so it could also have been that her parents are just old. it was either really old or adopted. so I find her wedding photos on her page and im just zooming in and out with my sticky chickeny fingers comparing her nose to her "dad's" nose and idk for the life of me i can't figure it out

[witch-hazels-musings]

is this all i have?

^ hey all, a little different fic I have for you today.

If you decide to read it, it’ll give you some insight into why I haven’t been posting a lot ... it says more than I probably would normally share about my struggles but @genshin-karebear encouraged me to be honest and, so, here I am. (thank you, friend)

Warnings -> negative self-talk, comfort, one curse word 

I sat at my desk, head in my hands and tears on the verge of spilling over the edges of my eyes. For days I’d been struggling, frantically, painfully trying to get back into the swing of things with nothing to show for it other than tear stained clothes and empty pieces of paper.

Where did it all go? Where was the spark that used to ignite in my heart when I sat down to write the words which once came so easy? Am I spent, have I used up all that skill in a matter of months … what’s wrong with me.

A single tear cascaded down my cheek as I stared at the massive nothingness that lay before me. The taunting paper which looked back at like a score card of failures after failures, as if to remind me that I will never be a person worthy of it’s time. I rubbed my eyes, pushing my glasses over my brow and feeling the hot liquid which rested in them, this would be the tenth time I’ve done this today.

“I’m just spent and I don’t know what I’m going to do anymore.” My lip quivered, my cheeks became wet, my eyes blurry. “I’m a failure.” I whispered to myself shaking my head and holding onto the last ounce of energy I could muster - it didn’t matter that the sun was warm and shined through my window, there was nothing strong enough to push through my veil of despair.

I looked out the window and saw the world move on around me; it never waits, while it pushes on I’m left behind. The trees continue to spread out their leaves in an attempt to soak up the necessary nutrients they need to survive, seeds float on the wind looking for a place to rest, bugs move from place to place at random, the cat lounges on the chair lost in its dreams as its fur is warmed by the sun I cannot seem to feel. I’m jealous of that cat.

I contemplate getting up and doing something different, but there is a voice inside of me that tells me to push through, to keep going and write something - put anything down on this piece of paper. Fuck you, paper … you are nothing to me and yet you have total control over my pen. I’m angry and frustrated at an inanimate object when I should really be mad at myself. It’s my fault I cannot get anything out --- I’m broken, that must be the only answer.

The tears have all fallen, water droplets speckle the parchment and my eyes look onward without any ounce of life left. I feel empty and hollow, I have no more energy for it all and so I lay down the pen, drop my head to the table and close my eyes.

I don’t know how long I sit like this, time has been moving so slowly for me as of late that this feels like nothing new. I don’t even hear the sound of the door opening, or footsteps headed my way. In fact, I barely register there is another presence in the room until I feel a hand on my shoulder.

“Hazel?” I stir, but only enough to turn my head onto its side and glance at the person who called me by name, a name I didn’t feel I had the right to claim. I looked up and felt my stomach drop, of course it would be him … the one person who I continued to fail over and over again. “Are you okay?”

I bit the inside of my lip, desperate to keep my emotions in check. I hated looking weak, and complaining about my frustrations only made me feel worse. These worries and inadequacies are my own issues to deal with, there was no need to drag others down into my sorrow, so I changed the subject.

“You’re back earlier than I thought you’d be.” I leaned up from the desk and turned myself to face him. Instinctually, I placed my hand on the blank paper, an attempt to hide my shame.

“Yes, there wasn’t much for me to do, it seemed everyone had it under control and I didn’t see a need to stick around.” He placed a few items down on the table in the study. It was some of the only sounds which broke the monotony of my day. “… did I disturb your work?”

“No, I only just started.” I lied, grinning to add another layer to my coverup.

“Oh, normally you get started much earlier than this …” His observation was accurate, even if it stung a little. He was right after all, I’d been sitting at this desk since we parted ways earlier in the morning … I felt chained to it, obligated to do something worthwhile at this god forsaken wooden nightmare.

“Normally, yes. I just, uh, had some things to get done before this …”

“Well I’m sure you are eager to get started, I’ll leave you to it.” He looked down at me kindly, and I yearned to have more than just his words and kind eyes at the moment, but I knew it wouldn’t be possible to ask that of him.

“Sounds good, I’ve got a lot of ideas and think I can get some good stuff done today.” Another lie.

“I believe you will.” He looked at me and my brain screamed. It battled between the side of reaching for him and letting him go. As busy as he was, he didn’t need to be bothered by my struggles. So, in an effort to keep them under control I pushed my knuckles to the small space between my chin and lips, the nail of my index finger digging into the corner of my mouth for extra sensory support. I smiled weakly at him and watched as he made his way through the threshold, disappearing beyond my line of sight. When the door closed I stood from my chair and walked to the window, my hand extended to capture the rays of the sun which normally brought me comfort, but today only illuminated my skin.

The emotions bubbled up in my chest and, like a sad child who didn’t get what they wanted, I removed my glasses, dropped my head into my hand and cried. Soft, quiet sobs spilled from my mouth while my eyes remained shielded by the darkness of my hand. Something caught my attention and as soon as I allowed my vision to adjust to the source, dark cloth and a flash of red envelope me.

“What …?”

“I knew something wasn’t right.” His voice was so soothing, his arms tight around my body, his chest inviting and the way his hand spread across my back ... it all meshed perfectly together. “For days, you’ve been acting strange … I’m sorry I didn’t notice sooner.”

“What .. what are you talking about ..?” my voice was strained, telling of my emotions, and still I tried to push through. “I’m fine, I-I just got something in my eye.”

“You know you can be honest with me.”

“I know …”

“So, tell me what’s on your mind.”

“This isn’t something to worry you over.”

“Isn’t it?” He pulled back so he could look at me and I was glad my glasses were still off. I couldn’t bear to see him clearly right now. “Something is clearly weighing on you, how could I not offer my support?

“It’s stupid, and I just need to get over it.”

“If it makes you feel this way, then whatever problem you have isn’t stupid.” He pressed, and his words, combined with the closeness of him, was starting to break my resolve. I didn’t want to put anything else on his shoulders … I didn’t want to appear weak … I didn’t want to be a failure.

“I’m … struggling.” He didn’t let me go or say anything, which made me fill the silence with my own pitiful words. 

“I’ve been trying for days to get something, anything out and every time I do the words don’t flow like they did. I’m worried … did I write all that I’m ever going to write. What if I can’t do it anymore … what if this is all I have …” The tears began to slip down my cheeks, some found a home in the bend of my lips and filled my mouth with the taste of salt. I shook my head and bit my tongue, this is stupid, I’m acting like a child. I tried to push away from him but he only tightened his grip. “God, there are so many more important things to be upset about, and here I am whining about something so petty.”

“When was the last time you took a break? Perhaps, that may help?”

“I’ve done that … I’ve taken such a long break -- I-I don’t want to take a break anymore. Why is this so hard.” I felt the pressure of my brows as they moved closer to one another, the bending of my nose as I scrunch my face out of frustration. “I’m wasting time and people are waiting on me … how long can I ask them to wait … how long do I deserve their patience …”

“Has anyone pushed you to work faster than you can?”

I parted my lips and ran my tongue over the back of my teeth, “No … but I can’t expect them to wait forever. There’s gotta be something wrong with me, right? That’s the only explanation I have at this point. I’m not good at it anymore … I’m worried and stressed and ... just ... so sad.”

His hands slipped around my arms, one resting against my shoulder and the other cupping my face. “I know this feels like an impassable obstacle, but you haven’t lost anything … you just need to give it time.”

“Haven’t I done that?”

“You told me you’ve been in here trying to force yourself everyday, have you really taken time to rest?” I shrugged my shoulders and shifted my eyes away from him.

“You don’t take breaks either …” I mumbled, my words were an effort to get even and show him how the suggestion was nothing but a silly statement that had no meaning.

“Maybe, I should.” I didn’t want to look at him, but I could tell his tone had grown more thoughtful. He let his hands fall to my wrist, the feeling of his glove against my skin was somehow comforting. “Come with me.” He gripped tightly and led me through the door of the study faster than I could protest. We walked down the stairs, confused maids and staff staring at us as we blew by them before leaving through the heavy doors of the winery and onto the dirt path which held endless possibilities of destinations. I protested, but there was no escaping his grip and, soon, all my effort was on keeping up with his pace.

When I thought I couldn’t take another step we stopped, he released my hand and with him no longer keeping me upright, I fell into the grass below me, my arms sprawled outward. I breathed in deeply and relished the feeling of the wind against my face.

“It’s been a long time since I moved that quickly.”

“How do you feel?”

“Let me get back to you on that… ” I laughed and rested my hand against my chest, the beating of my heart pounding there as I tried to breathe with hot lungs.

I looked up at the sky, the vastness of it stealing my vision and removing anything else. My skin was tickled by the blades of grass that brushed against it, and I watched as a small bee flew over my face his swaying movement mesmerizing. When was the last time I was outside like this… it felt like such a long time ago.

I stretched my hand toward the sky above me, the blue color peeking through my spread fingers, my palm cutting off the fuzzy clouds that moved lazily along. His face came into view and I realized I had yet to put my glasses back on.

He bent down to meet me, his back falling into the grass at my side, hair following the pull of gravity and spreading out in the grassy hill. 

“I can’t believe you are laying in the grass.” I chuckled and dropped my hand back onto my chest, turning my head to look at him.

“I’m known to have a few surprises up my sleeve.” He responded, turning his head to look at me, the light from above gracing his face and somehow only making him even more beautiful than he already was. It was so blinding that I had to look away.

“Hah, well, color me impressed.” For the first time in days, I feel a small reprieve from the darkness which had seeped into my skin. Something internal began to tingle, starting from my fingertips and slowly up my arms and as I took in a deep breath the smell of sweet flowers filled my nose. “Thank you, Diluc.”

He reached for the hand which was moving back and forth above the grass at my side, his strong, large grip providing protection and comfort, and for the first time in days, the feeling of warmth.

“Promise to tell me next time you are struggling; don’t hide away alone.”

“I’ll do my best.”

---

I feel much like Kiki did in Kiki’s Delivery Service ... how can I fly again when I feel so ... bleh 

I’ll keep trying, all <3 

#genshin impact #genshin impact musings #genshin impact fiction #self insert #genshin self insert #diluc #genshin diluc #diluc ragnvindr #genshin impact diluc #hazelsmusings

[floralovebot]

Helia and Tecna friendship headcanons? -lambofzenith

AHHHHHHHHHH okay so

helia is really bad at technology right? pretty much anything that isn't covered in red fountain lessons, he's a complete no-go at. tecna takes it upon herself to try and help him understand basic technology a bit more and it goes so wrong. helia is literally the mom that squints their eyes and holds their phone away from their face while using One pointer finger to type everything. tecna hates it so much.

helia naturally doesn't understand a single thing that comes out of her mouth when she's talking technology but he still supports her nonetheless

helia is surprisingly rational most of the time! he's a firm Push All My Emotions Down And Then One Day I'll Die kind of person so even during really stressful missions, he's good at keeping a level head about things. tecna really appreciates this and it's not rare to see her, helia, and timmy discussing mission-related strategies During The Middle Of A Fight

tecna has a tendency to talk while she works (only noticeable around people she's comfortable with though) but she gets a little self-conscious about it. she knows it's not Bad or anything, but it doesn't seem Right either so she tries to keep quiet most of the time. helia on the other hand is so used to working while it's noisy that he's totally chill with it. they've gotten used to just vibing in the same room, working on their own things, and not actually talking to each other during it. they're comfortable around each other :) helia doesn't mind when she rambles out loud and tecna doesn't mind him pacing around the room every five minutes. symbiotic relationship.

tecna doesn't like talking about what she went through in the omega dimension, even with timmy. however, she does occasionally draw things out when she really needs to vent and can't think of any other way how. she's always been good at sketching due to her background in designing gadgets so this wasn't a weird transition for her. helia told her about this anonymous place for artists to submit their art with absolutely no names attached and after checking to make sure it was legit and she was completely safe, she started to submit one or two a year. she doesn't like to do it often but it does help to sort of "get it out" without actually talking about it.

while helia is notoriously Bad at video games, he does actually like the more "physical reality" ones (think that virtual reality tecmy scene!) mainly because it feels close enough to real life that he doesn't need to rely on just technology to do it. tecna and helia often have very competitive gaming matches but specifically within those kinds of games otherwise, he's really bad at it and she gets annoyed that he can't remember any of the buttons.

speaking of competitions, helia has an inner bet going on of How Much Can I Pretend To Not Know Jackshit About A Specific Technological Topic Before Tecna Notices. what he doesn't know, is that tecna knows he does this and has her own inner bet of How Long Can I Explain This Specific Topic Before Helia Gets Bored And Moves On. so far, the score is mostly even, with helia only winning because timmy isn't aware of this mental battle and will often jump in to explain things too. helia is very smug about this and tecna can't say anything to timmy otherwise she loses the fight that no one actually set firm rules on.

timmy is just really happy that his two best friends are also friends and sometimes he tries to invite helia and flora on their dates. tecna is okay with this only because she thinks it's funny. florelia were also okay with it but started to not be because they realized that their version of a date and tecmy's version of a date was extremely different. they've started to come up with increasingly ridiculous excuses for why they can't go and so far timmy is the only one that hasn't noticed. poor timmy, he genuinely thinks flora's best friend cactus is sick and needs care 😔

when timmy isn't available, helia will call tecna for any technology related issues he's having. on one hand, she likes that he trusts her and can rely on her, on the other hand, she's told him ten separate times not to leave his computer running all the damn time. (tecna: please turn the computer off when you're not using it. this will immensely help solve all of the problems you've been having. helia: okay so i'm gonna leave it on all the time?). he's not trying to be difficult though. he just forgets everything and assumes it should work regardless (he a little stupit).

roxy gets so much gender envy from both of them and it confuses her all the time. they have no idea what a gender envy is though and they're mostly just wondering how they stop giving it to roxy since it seems like it agitates her??? help please???? researching the matter doesn't help and it ends up becoming a meme on winx stan twt because tecna made a very official and serious post asking about the severity of "gender envy" and needing to know how contagious it is. now whenever either of them posts, earth teens just comment gender envy at them. helia still doesn't know what it means.

they don't watch movies/tv together but they will binge-watch the same shows and then talk about them later on. tecna's formatting is still very formal and functional meanwhile helia bounces off multiple points and forgets to make a conclusion. he stresses her out so much.

helia notices when tecna has stayed up too long for too many nights and will occasionally send her a "please sleep" message when he knows timmy is already asleep and can't do it. she doesn't always listen but sometimes she will, but not before sending the same message back because why the fuck is he up at this hour huh dumbass?????

tecna has a pet bird and helia has multiple cats and they absolutely cannot be in the same room together. her bird is constantly trying to fight his cats and while they're usually well behaved, he's genuinely scared they're gonna try to eat it (tecna: stop calling my bird an "it"; helia: stop putting your bird near my cats 😐)

they actually don't like hanging out when one of them is upset. they both have a hard time talking about their emotions (for different reasons obviously) and they always end up feeling like they have to say something when they're together. they just really prefer hanging when they're both in a good mood or at least calm. whenever one of them gets upset, they stop hanging out together until that person feels better.

connected to the last point, you'd think that would mean they don't know a lot about each other, but they surprisingly do! they're both relatively observant people (tecna gets better every year) and they're actually really good at figuring out why the other is upset and what would help. they just don't talk about it.

although, on a similar note, the one time they did have an emotional talk, it was about timmy. tecna was feeling upset again and worrying over whether or not she's "too logical/not emotional enough" and it was the one time where she actually allowed herself to hang out with him while being upset. they had a genuine heart to heart about things and especially about how she's way too hard on herself. they thought it would be awkward since they actively avoided this kind of thing but it wasn't! it went very naturally and helia even teared up a bit. he's very proud of her and the effort she makes every day and since that talk has been much more vocal about it.

when they went to earth in s4, they both spent way too much time learning about Earth Things; tecna about earth media (canon), and helia about animals since that's what flora was talking about. he started calling tecna "chip" after that because chipmunks reminded him of her. she disagrees with this assessment and he refuses to admit he mixed up chipmunks and squirrels. he still calls her chip to this day, and fortunately, it's grown on her. unfortunately, he calls timmy "chip" too, and now it's a hassle to figure out who he's talking to.

helia is surprisingly interested in zenith technology despite not understanding it all! he enjoys walking through the streets of zenith with tecna while she proudly points things out so he can go "ooo aaa" at everything. sometimes she tries to explain how things work and his mind starts playing elevator music automatically. tecna has gotten really good at knowing when helia is just. brain empty no thoughts because she recognizes the Empty look in his eyes. she enjoys catching it live and trying to figure out why he's just. not thinking (usually it's because he either doesn't understand something or got bored) (this happens often when sky starts talking) (sorry sky)

tecna is one of the winx (besides flora of course) that helia trusts the most. not in an emotional or friend way, but in a physical, we're on a mission way. she has good control of her magic and knows how to use it. she's good at thinking of strategies and applying them properly to the situation. and after the omega dimension, he had a newfound respect for her previously unknown to him survival skills. if he were even in severe danger, she would be the first winx he'd call (depending on the situation, she is occasionally ahead of flora).

helia is really bad at sharing details. he tends to go straight to the conclusion but doesn't share how he got there (adhd king 😌) and tecna is the best person to call in when this happens. her logical questioning makes it seem so easy because she has the patience and knowledge to connect the dots and ask the right questions. when anyone else tries its more like (helia: i'm sitting in a pool of blood; person: uhm do you know where it's coming from?; helia: probably the stab wound; someone: did you get stabbed??; helia: oh yeah definitely.)

#lamb.. i love them so much... #the comedy potential with these two are just off the roof #winx club #winx tecna #winx helia #answered #lambofzenith #mine.headcanons #ugh ik i mentioned it on the trivelia post but this made me think of the backstory i made up for helia #because tecna plays a big part in it later on in the story #i have an entire rewrite that i refuse to ever actually write ajhgljadlg #but tecna plays a big part in helia's Main Arc in the story... and its so self indulgent i just really love these two #posting now.. when no one is awake.. ajkdhljaghdlj

[ravennm84]

Career Advice

Hi everyone!!  This story was inspired by a news anchor that I saw on TV, and thought to myself “what would happen if Alya asked that woman for an internship and showed that woman the Ladyblog.” There wasn’t originally going to be Alya redemption, but I decided that the girl needed some love too. Warm-Fuzzies and please enjoy!!

Alya was practically vibrating in her chair as she sat in the reception area of TVi News. She had heard from Aurora and Mireille that there was a summer internship opening and that she should submit an application. She had spent an entire week working on her resume with her mom’s help, citing her blog as experience. Her mother had told her that she might want to double check all her stories before going in, but already knew that she’d be fine. After all, she was an awesome reporter.

There were four other people in the room with her, and she was definitely the youngest. Two of them looked like they were university age and the other two probably attended lycee. That meant that they likely had a bit more experience than she did, but Alya was confident that her blog would set her up for the win. Not only that, Lila had put in a good word for her with the higher ups of TVi News. All she had to do was nail the interview and the internship was hers!

It was about an hour and two interviews before her turn came. Holding her head high; she grabbed her tablet and portfolio, straightened her skirt, and walked in as smoothly as she could in her heels.

The person conducting the interview was Claudia Ramonte, a no-nonsense kind of woman that always seemed to be on a deadline. She preferred people always be on-point and despised people that wasted her time. She was a legend in the industry, she had been an investigative journalist for over 20 years before going into semi-retirement by helping run the company and hiring new journalists. It was said that she had an eye for who had talent and who was just playing journalist. And if you fell into the latter or made the mistake of insulting her craft, you could kiss any hopes of making it big in the industry goodbye. So as soon as Alya shut the door behind her, she put on her most professional smile and extended her hand to her.

“Mme. Ramonte, Alya Cesaire, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

She gave her a slight smile as she shook her hand. “When I saw that a kid in college was applying for the internship, I thought that you were either an idiot or you had a pair of steel balls. Show me which one it is.”

A little taken back but her forwardness, Alya’s hand shook slightly as she pulled her resume from the file and handed it to her. “As you can see, I’ve been running my blog, The Ladyblog, for close to a year and a half now.”

“Everyone and their mothers have blogs nowadays, Cesaire.” The woman scoffed as she tossed Alya’s resume onto her desk and turned to her computer, typing quickly. “Every candidate I’m interviewing today has at least two blogs, multiple news articles in their school newspapers, or videos from their college news or radio stations. What is it about your blog that makes you think that you are more qualified than any of them?”

Alya faltered for a second but wouldn’t be deterred, she was an awesome reporter and she would get this internship. “I’ve conducted multiple interviews with different celebrities; including Ladybug herself, other heroes of the Miraculous Team, the daughter of a diplomat who is also Ladybug’s best friend…”

“So have others, Cesaire.” She sounded bored, as she continued reading something on her computer screen.

Squaring her shoulders, Alya kept going. She refused to back down when she was so close to her internship. “I have also done extensive work on recording akuma battles and have compared my footage to other sites. None of them get as close or in depth as I do.”

“And why do you think that is, Mlle. Cesaire?” Her voice going cold

Alya blinked, not expecting the question. “Um… well-”

“Reporters and journalists are not to engage in dangerous situations that are considered life threatening. Whether someone is part of a staff or freelance, they are not to enter danger zones on their own, which you have apparently done numerous times. I will admit that when it comes to journalism, it is never without risks; but no story is worth your life.”

“But there’s no real danger, Ladybug always-”

“A terrorist is a terrorist, Cesaire.” The chill in the woman’s voice gained a hard edge. “And the attacks that have been done by the akumas have, on more than one occasion, shown the potential to be fatal. Should there be even a single time that Ladybug and Chat Noir not pull through, that could result in thousands of deaths. If you think that any credible news source would allow their people to do what you’ve been doing; then you’re more than an idiot, you’re a reckless idiot.” 

Then she turned one of her computer screens towards Alya, which was queued up to the Ladyblog. “And from what I’ve seen from your blog in the two minutes you’ve been in my office; you are not only reckless, but mediocre in your work as a journalist. I have looked through multiple posts and have yet to see a single credible source mentioned. So tell me, how can you think that you are qualified to work here if you cannot follow the most basic rule of journalism and check your sources?”

“I can assure you, everything I post is completely true!” 

“And I’m just supposed to take your word on that? Hardly.” She turned the screen back to herself, then started playing the first interview she had done with Lila. Mme. Ramonte played it for only 15 seconds, in which Lila claimed to be Ladybug’s best friend after she had saved her life, before pausing the video and looking at Alya. “If Lila Rossi, the daughter of a diplomat, had been saved by Ladybug, there would have been multiple articles and recordings of the incident. I just did a cursory search and the only link that came up connecting Rossi and Ladybug is your own blog.”

Alya was speechless. She wanted to say that Lila was telling the truth, but what reason would there be for Mme. Ramonte, who continued playing Lila’s interview, to lie? She stopped the video again a few seconds later, after the tale of saving Jagged Stone’s kitten from being run over by a plane on an airport runway. The look the legendary journalist gave her was that of total disgust and anger. 

“Do I even need to list all the things wrong with

this story?” When Alya didn’t say anything, Mme. Ramonte went off on her, practically ranting. “Firstly, Jagged Stone has been quoted multiple times as being allergic to animal fur, and would not own a cat. Second, no one would allow a minor onto a airport runway, as it would be seen negligence and possibly as an act of terrorism. Even if she had saved some cat from being run over and Jagged had been grateful, no self respecting musician would write a song about a minor that was not their daughter, as doing so could have him labeled as a pedophile. You are very lucky that M. Stone has not seen this interview, because if he had, you would have been served with lawsuits for slander. So, I’ll ask again. Is there anything to keep me from saying that you are nothing more than a wannabe-journalist that isn’t fit to work at a news stand?” 

She wasn’t even sure how to respond. Alya had been so sure that her blog was perfect, but after what Mme. Ramonte had said and how she was looking at her, she really did feel like an idiot for believing what Lila had said. Especially since she should have known better.

She now remembered when she flew to Spain with her parents when she was younger and how far away the landing strip was from the airport. There was no way Lila would have been able to see a kitten from that far away. Alya also remembered how she wanted to go outside and play, but her father told her that only authorized personnel were allowed outside at the airport. Then there was Marinette, the designer had mentioned how she couldn’t do certain designs for the rock star because he had fur allergies from when he was a kid.

Oh no, Marinette has been saying for months that Lila was a liar. Ever since she had seen Lila’s interview. And since she designs for Jagged Stone, she would know that Lila was nothing but a liar. She was also the one that got me my first exclusive with Ladybug, so she’d probably know that she was lying about that, too. And I had the nerve to tell her that she was just being jealous… I’m a terrible friend and an even worse journalist.

Looking back up at Mme. Ramonte, she was barely able to hold back tears as she shook her head. “No, Madame. There is no excuse for such shoddy journalism, it doesn’t even deserve to be called that. I apologize for wasting your time.”

The woman’s features softened slightly, but not by much. “You’re still very young and have a lot to learn about journalism, Cesaire. If I ever see you in my office again, I’ll expect more from you than any other candidate. That means looking out for your safety, knowing what is okay and not okay to publish, and checking your stories through multiple, reliable sources. I would also recommend killing your blog and starting new, the Ladyblog will become toxic to your career if it continues. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

Alya couldn’t help but stare at the woman across the desk from her. Despite not deserving it, Mme. Ramonte had given her very sage and constructive advice that just might save her career in the long run. If she killed her blog now, started a new one or two, and followed her advice; by the time she finished lycee, she might be able to use them as proper references for her future career.

“Thank you, Mme. Ramonte. I won’t forget this.”

“Don’t thank me yet, Cesaire,” she waved her hand dismissively. “I’m going to remember this and I will be telling other news sources about your blog as well, to make sure you never repeat these mistakes again. So, if you are really set on being a journalist, don’t just prove it to me, prove to everyone that you are better.”

“Still, thank you. Have a nice day, Mme. Ramonte.” Alya stood from her chair but paused before she turned to walk away. “So you know, I think I’ll be doing one final post on the Ladyblog, to admit my mistakes and all the things I reported incorrectly on my blog, along with the sources to back it up. Sort of a final expose to rid myself of the bad energy from my blog, so I’ll be able to move forward.”

The woman gave a nod of approval. Before waving her out of the office. 

Alya kept her head high the entire way out of the building while doing her best to remain calm, or else risk attracting an akuma. As a bit of a cleanser, she sent a text to Marinette.

To FashionGurl: You were right about Lila. I’m so sorry for not listening to you. Can we talk on Monday? 

A few minutes later, she got a text back.

To FoxyJournalist: You can come by today if you want to talk.

To FashionGurl: Sorry, I’m going to be busy. I have a new story to write about that liar, one that will have multiple sources, showing everyone exactly the kind of person she is.

To FoxyJournalist: Can’t wait to read it!!

~oOo~

What followed for Alya was a very long weekend writing out every story/lie that Lila had ever told her and the class, research into Lila’s old schools, staking herself out in front of the Italian Embassy until Ambassador Rossi came out so she could introduce herself, and then a long conversation at a cafe with the very angry and distraught mother. There were a lot of questions, show-and-tell with the videos on Alya’s blog and news reports from Lila’s old schools, and then the recommendation that she go to speak with M. Damocles and Mme. Bustier. 

Monday morning saw Alya going into the bakery before school, telling Tom and Sabine the truth about Lila, and then grovelling at Marinette’s feet for being such a terrible friend. One thing she did not hesitate to show the Dupain-Chengs were the records and news reports she’d found pertaining to Lila’s old schools. Tracking Lila’s social media, Alya had found three schools and discovered the kind of mayhem the girl left behind. 

One school had a perfect student named Gaia, much like Marinette, bullied until she was expelled. Another school showed another popular girl named Alessia had “fallen” down a flight of stairs and broken both of her legs, a few ribs, and one of her arms. Even though there were multiple eyewitness reports that Lila had pushed her, the Italian girl moved before she could be brought up on charges. The report from the most recent school made all of them sick. A girl named Ludovica had been stalked, harassed, and bullied over social media beginning the day Lila joined the school until the day the girl committed suicide. A quick backtrace on the account showed that it had been set up by Lila Rossi.

It was quickly decided that Sabine would be going to the school to have a word with the principal and teacher. Alya gave them a thumb drive with a copy of all the information she had found, she had multiple copies, so that if they decided to pursue legal actions, they had evidence to back it up.

At school, Alya went to class while Sabine took Marinette M. Damocles' office to speak with him and Mme. Bustier, since the woman was decidedly absent from the room. She had barely sat down when Lila entered the classroom, spouting off some story about meeting Ryan Reynolds over the weekend. Alya barely suppressed her snide grimace before hiding it with a smile.

“Really, Lila? That’s amazing! Did you get any pictures? I would love to post them on my blog?”

Now that she was watching, she saw the girl flinch when asked for actual evidence before putting on a sugary sweet smile. “I didn’t get a chance, my phone died.”

“Oh that’s annoying. Where did you see him?” She asked, pulling up the movie star’s Twitter account. “Because you were here in Paris over the weekend but according to his social media, he was visiting his home town in Canada this week.”

Alya definitely saw the girl scowl that time. “Oh, he just said that so he could come here without anyone knowing. He’s researching a role here in Paris and I was showing him around until my mom called me home.”

“Didn’t you just say that your phone was dead?” That got the classes’ attention, as they had just heard the girl say that was the reason she hadn’t taken any pictures. Lila was about to spout some new excuse; but Alya, who was now channelling her inner Mme. Ramonte, raised a hand to cut her off.

“Don’t even bother coming up with another lie. I know you’re full of crap and it spills out of your mouth with every word you say. And before you try to accuse me of lying, taking Marinette’s side, or bullying you; I think you should know that I spent the majority of the weekend looking into everything you’ve told us.”

The entire class watched the Italian girl’s olive skin turn a sickly white. But Alya wasn’t finished, this girl had been attempting to do the same to Marinette that she had done to Gaia, Alessia, and Ludovica. And as her BFF, she was not going to stand aside and let that happen. “I have piles of evidence that you were never in Achu and have never met Prince Ali, you were just playing hookie. I’ve got evidence that you are perfectly healthy and have never suffered from any of the diseases or ailments that you’ve claimed to have since returning to school. I’ve also got evidence that you have never met any of the celebrities that you claim to know. That includes Ladybug.”

Not so surprising, Lila attempted to turn everyone against Alya by turning on the tears. “That’s not true! I would never lie about all of that. You’re just saying that because you’re mad at me for not getting the internship!”

When the class looked back at Alya, they were surprised to see her grinning like a fox. “Did I forget to mention exactly how I know you weren’t in Achu? Or how I know you're perfectly healthy and don’t know any of those celebrities you’ve claimed to be close to?” 

She paused, mostly for effect before going in for the killing blow. “Your mom and I had a very in depth conversation yesterday when I ran into her outside the embassy. She wasn’t happy about your interviews on the Ladyblog, and she was confused as to why you were claiming to be Ladybug’s BFF when you’ve been telling her for months that she and Chat Noir were a couple of lazy, incompetent, and downright terrible heros; which was why the school was closed.”

If it were possible Lila paled even more before turning to run out the door. The door swung open just as she was reaching for the handle, and was met with an upset Mme. Bustier. “You are needed in the Principal's Office, young lady.” To the surprise of everyone there, Lila attempted to shove her way past their teacher. But the woman was faster and grabbed the girl by the arm in a firm grip before escorting her out of the room.

When the first bell rang a few minutes later, M. Harpele came in to act as the substitute until Mme. Bustier was finished with her meeting. 

Marinette returned to class before their teacher did, smiling bright as the sun and visibly more relaxed than anyone had seen her in weeks. She sat down beside Alya and gave her a tight hug while whispering “thank you” over and over.

“I take it things went well for you instead of Lila?” Alya grinned.

Marinette giggled. “She tried convincing her mom that all of us were akumatized and were trying to ruin her life, but she wasn’t buying it. Especially when M. Damocles showed Mme. Rossi her school records. Mom demanded that Lila give a formal apology and confess everything to the class, or she would get the Board of Governors involved. When Mme. Rossi found out that Lila tried to get me expelled, she lost it and started talking about a catholic reformatory school in Italy. Lila looked like she was going to be sick when she heard that.”

“It’s not perfect, but it’s what she deserves.” Alya shrugged before looking Marinette in the eye again. “I’m really sorry, girl. You’re my BFF, I should have listened to you when you told me Lila was a liar.”

“No, I don’t expect you to listen to me every time. I just wanted you to check things out and make sure that you weren’t being taken advantage of.” Then her brow creased. “I’m curious, what brought all this on?”

“Let’s just say that I just got some much needed career advice.”

#alya redemption #lila salt #ml fic #lila karma #friendship #alya salt

[ryukoishida]

Qian Qiu/Thousand Autumns Fic: In which YWS experiences qi-deviation and SQ helps out.

Title: Down for You Fandom: Qian Qiu / Thousand Autumns Characters/Ships: YanShen Rating: NSFW Chapter: 1/1 Summary: [Post Canon] While experimenting with further improving Fundamental Records of Phoenix-Qilin, Yan Wushi suffered from sexually-driven qi deviation, which he tried to hide from Shen Qiao. When Shen Qiao finally realized what was wrong and offered to help, Yan Wushi felt conflicted. A/N: Another qi deviation fic? Yes. Let me join in the fun too please and thank.

---

Yan Wushi hated asking for help.

He viewed dependence on someone else as a weakness – a weakness that he as one of the strongest martial arts masters under the heavens had no need for. Even since he was young, he thrived on being on his own: with no other pupils to distract him, and no overbearing teacher to instruct him point-by-point, he was able to concentrate on his training and meditation in his own pace and direction that had taken him higher on the path to greatness and strength in the martial arts realm.

To Yan Wushi, other people were either nuisances for him to flick off like pestering flies or rivals worthy of challenging; friends were merely an unnecessary burden.

Taking on two disciples during the last few decades had not changed his perspective on this. He took on Bian Yanmei and Yu Shengyan knowing that their independent personalities would work well with his hands-off teaching method. And thankfully, both of his disciples turned out to be more than capable to handle themselves and sect affairs when he wasn’t around.

In short, Yan Wushi hated asking for help. He never saw the need, and so perhaps had forgotten how.

Subsequently, when Shen Qiao asked him what was wrong with the slightest hint of worry between his brows, out of pure habit, Yan Wushi smiled and replied lightly, if not a little breathlessly from the itching heat that was very slowly inching from his solar plexus to the rest of his body through his bloodstreams, “nothing, my beloved.”

Even speaking such few words proved to be challenging; his throat protested with a parched, sweet burn that could only be satiated with the touch of one person, and one person only.

But Yan Wushi didn’t dare ask. He’d already asked too much of Shen Qiao by being here with him, standing beside him as if they were equals.

Shen Qiao’s frown deepened a little, barely noticeable. The answer clearly didn’t satisfy the sect leader of Xuan Du, yet Shen Qiao was a patient man and was not one to force answers out of Yan Wushi until he knew his husband was ready to divulge. Heaving a soft sigh and aiming a knowing look at the other man, Shen Qiao only pressed his lips into a tight line and lowered his gaze back to the scroll he’d been reading.

It wasn’t the first time he’d experienced qi deviation. During the years in his training to reach the higher levels of the Fundamental Records of Phoenix-Qilin, Yan Wushi had suffered countless instances and variations of his qi running erratic in his meridian network – icy needles prickling his bones, bursting flames scorching his flesh, paralysis rendering him completely vulnerable – and he’d overcame each and every single one of them without anyone’s interference or assistance.

The slow-burning heat like molten lava crawling slowly up and down his limbs and prickling just beneath his skin was nothing he’d ever experienced before, but Yan Wushi was certain he could get through this troublesome phase with a few more days of meditation and rewiring of his meridian network.

“You will tell me if there is something wrong, will you not?” Shen Qiao’s gaze didn’t move away from the text on his scroll, but his voice was quiet and genuine with concern.

“Of course, Ah-Qiao.”

-

Three more days of silently suffering the gradually increasing discomfort of feverish sensitivity and the progressively difficulty of ignoring the pulsing desire running wild within his body that no meditation nor long soaks in cold water could suppress, Yan Wushi was desperate.

He wouldn’t allow his disciples or other servants near him for the last few days, and to Shen Qiao’s surprise, he’d even turned his own husband away, muttering something along the lines of not wishing to pass whatever illness he had to his beloved partner. Given any other day, Shen Qiao would have left him be, but Yan Wushi’s behavior had been too uncharacteristic even for the man’s eccentric personality, and that was the moment when the sect leader of Xuan Du couldn’t pretend to be oblivious anymore.

“Yan-zongzhu…”

After knocking on the door of their shared bedchamber in Yuxu Pavilion and receiving no reply, Shen Qiao gingerly opened the door and stepped in. Night had already fallen hours ago and the candles were burning low, the orange glow of the flames flickering when the evening breeze slipped in through the gap of the open door before stilling again.

“Yan-zongzhu?” Shen Qiao tried again, tone soft, making his way to the side of the bed, where Yan Wushi was lying on his back, blankets kicked messily to the side and clothing haphazardly loosened in a state of disarray. His breathing was shallow and harsh, skin flushed and streaked with sweat, exposed chest rising and falling in an abnormal rate that made Shen Qiao rushed the last few steps to the bed and reached out for his companion’s wrist.

He rested two fingers against Yan Wushi’s pulse point, attempting to get a reading, but before he could accurately diagnose the man’s condition, Yan Wushi pulled his arm away with a groan.

“Ah-Qiao…” Yan Wushi croaked out, his voice much hoarser and lower than usual from how dry the inside of his mouth was, and he cleared his throat, eyes fluttering open and head turning slightly to look at Shen Qiao. His pupils were dilated so that only a thin ring of red-brown could be seen. “As much as I appreciate your concern, there really is nothing for you to worry about.”

“Yan Wushi!” Shen Qiao’s patience was running thin, and Yan Wushi could tell because he was calling him by his full name. With quick reflexes, Shen Qiao caught his husband’s wrist again, this time using a bit more force to keep him in place as he tried to read his pulse once more. The palpitation was strangely rapid and inconsistent, with a rhythm that he wasn’t familiar with from any medical books he’d read.

Brows gathering into a deeper frown and lips tightening into a straight line, Shen Qiao placed his palm on the other man’s forehead, and was shocked at the burning temperature of his skin there. He continued his examination, gently feeling his cheek with the back of his hand, and then slender fingers were on the side of his neck – a man’s most vulnerable point, easily grasped and snapped into pieces – but Yan Wushi only craved more, Shen Qiao’s cool fingertips and innocent touches merely serving to ignite whatever was flaring wildly inside his body.

Shen Qiao detected a change in Yan Wushi’s breathing, and simply deduced that as being his condition worsening. He quickened his examination, his hand briefly resting on Yan Wushi’s sternum before sliding lower to his solar plexus, all the while focusing his own qi to the center of his palm to see if he could at least alleviate some of the discomfort and ease the stranded qi into flowing again.

“Hah…!” Yan Wushi jerked as the qi from Shen Qiao’s palm entered through his skin and into his meridian network. It had felt… good. Too good, in fact, that he was afraid he might lose control of himself if he didn’t stop what his dear husband was doing right now.  

In his current weakened state, Yan Wushi had no real strength to push back, and so he resorted to his infamous verbal skills. Lifting up his shuddering arm, he covered the back of Shen Qiao’s hand, which was still laying lightly across his husband’s stomach, with his own, interlaced their fingers together and pulled that pale jade hand towards his lips, murmuring against his warm skin in a low voice.

“Ah-Qiao… my good Ah-Qiao… do not be angry with me,” Yan Wushi was using his best impression of an overly-affectionate cat. His saccharine tone shouldn’t be so effective on Shen Qiao, but when it was paired with the teary-eyed gaze, flushed cheeks, and strands of star-white hair stuck to his temple, Shen Qiao felt the initial heat of his frustration simmered away until nothing but a soft smoldering tenderness was left.

Shen Qiao sighed but allowed Yan Wushi to keep holding his hand.

“Yan-lang, I am not angry, but I wish you would tell me right away when something like this happen. If you were to…” Shen Qiao’s mind flashed to the memory of Yan Wushi’s lifeless body lying on the cold, hard ground after his last fight with Hulugu, and he squeezed his eyes close, shaking his head viciously to tear himself away from that nightmarish image. “No, you cannot do that to me again. Promise me that you will not hide yourself like this next time you experience another instance of qi-deviation, or anything else.”

“Call me that again, and I will promise you anything you want.”

“Call you…?” Shen Qiao realized belatedly that he’d been addressing Yan Wushi with the pet name he only used sparingly during their most intimate moments, and he felt his face heating up from embarrassment. “Yan Wushi, this is a serious issue. If you continue to jest around as if your life is a joke —”

“How could I treat my own life as a joke when there is someone who care so deeply for me?” Yan Wushi lightly kissed the back of Shen Qiao’s hand before smiling up at him, the expression so indulgent and gentle – so unlike the usual bold and wolfish grin – that it took all of Shen Qiao’s self-control to not combust on the spot.

“Y-Yan-lang, that is beside the point.”

Despite his cold words, Shen Qiao conceded but quickly continued as if that little scene didn’t happen, “it seems like the flow of your qi is stuck somewhere along the Conception Vessel, probably between the Huiyin point and Qihai point, but it is better if we have a physician take a look—”

“Absolutely not,” Yan Wushi was adamant about this.

“Yan-lang, now is not the time to be headstrong,” Shen Qiao tried to persuade his partner. “Who knows what will happen if we do not act quickly to resolve the qi deviation?”

“This venerable one will not let anyone else touch me other than you.”

“I do not know how to help you…” Shen Qiao said, powerless against the demonic sovereign when he was acting so childishly, “perhaps with acupuncture…?”  

“I do,” Yan Wushi said quickly, “and it definitely does not involve needles.”

He internally shuddered at the thought of those sharp, silver, pointy metal bits entering his acupressure points.

“All right,” Shen Qiao acquiesced with a resigned sigh, “will you at least tell me how, then?”

“It is quite simple, really,” one corner of Yan Wushi’s lips curved up into a slight grin, and Shen Qiao suddenly had a bad feeling about this, “I just need Ah-Qiao to enter me and climax inside me while at the same time stimulate a few specific acupressure points on my body with your qi.”

“… pardon me?”

It was solely thanks to Shen Qiao’s strict upbringing that he didn’t instantly slap Yan Wushi across the face and leave.

Rather than repeating himself – because he was sure that Shen Qiao had heard exactly what he’d said – Yan Wushi guided his husband’s hand from his mouth and southward, past his chest and stomach, and finally let it rest on his crotch, which, despite the layers of clothing, was quite obviously stirring in interest, as it had been for the past few days no matter how many times Yan Wushi had tried to resolve this problem by himself.

“Please, Ah-Qiao, will you not help your poor husband out? You know I do not beg easily, but for you…” Yan Wushi grinded up against Shen Qiao’s palm, and even though that slight friction was not nearly enough to quench his yearning, knowing that it was Shen Qiao who was touching him down there was sufficient to make the demonic sovereign bite his lower lip to dampen the whimper that was slipping out prettily. His body trembled with want, aching to be touched; he had to internally force his own frame to remain in place instead of springing up like a predator to trap Shen Qiao within his arms.  

“Yan-lang, you know you never have to plead with me if you truly need help, right?” Shen Qiao was not used to seeing this side of Yan Wushi. Even as young as Xie Ling and as mellow as Ah-Yan were, none of his split personalities had ever acted like this. From Yan Wushi’s own perspective, this kind of behavior was unbecoming, a display of weakness, a sign of disgrace, and so he would never have allowed himself to fall into this pathetic state.

Shen Qiao’s fingers were twitching from the heat emanating from Yan Wushi’s erection, so it was a wonder he was able to inquire in a calm tone, “but are you certain that this is the only way to redirect your qi?”

“My good Ah-Qiao, please… I… I need you to touch me or I am literally going to die.”

Now Yan Wushi was being rather dramatic, and they both knew it. Even Shen Qiao was trying hard not to crack a smile at that as Yan Wushi continued his lament.

“Is that what you want? Do you want your husband to die from something as ridiculous as sexually-driven qi deviation?”

“For someone who is supposedly suffering, Yan-zongzhu sure runs his mouth too much,” Shen Qiao’s inhibition had melted away, and his worry seemed to have alleviated somewhat as well, after seeing that Yan Wushi was still capable of his melodramatic antics. “Shall I put your mouth to better use?”

Shen Qiao allowed himself to be pulled forward and down until their noses were nuzzling against each other’s, their breaths mingling hotly while the sect leader of Xuan Du ran his fingers back up to his exposed chest, splaying his hand against the patch of warm skin there. Feeling his husband’s heart thrumming beneath his fingertips, Shen Qiao’s own chest felt full of emotions that were impossible to put into words, so he didn’t try – not when he could communicate those feelings through his actions.

“And what does Shen-zhangjiao suggest?” Yan Wushi whispered, each word branding against the other man’s lips like the sweetest poison.

Shen Qiao wordlessly closed the distance between them, first with a chaste kiss of lips gently touching, and then almost instantly flared into a wet, messy clashing of mouths, teeth, and tongues initiated by Yan Wushi. Before long, however, even the demonic sovereign was feeling the radiating waves of heat and languor struck his muscles once more, and Shen Qiao was able to regain control by trapping Yan Wushi’s wrists to his sides while he counterattacked with biting kisses and soothing licks along the side of his neck.

Red and violet bruises bloomed like sweet fragrant alyssum blossoms where Shen Qiao’s mouth roamed, and the mere thought of the pure and virtuous Shen-zhangjiao of Xuan Du Sect marking him thus was making Yan Wushi harder than ever, and he made sure to let Shen Qiao know by releasing needy, broken moans of “Ah-Qiao” and “hurry”.

Soon enough, Shen Qiao had Yan Wushi’s robes removed and pants halfway tangled down his muscular legs, and while Shen Qiao had been imbued with an intoxicating sense of new-found confidence that had allowed him to initiate the kiss, yet as soon as he had laid bare Yan Wushi, his eyes roaming along the expanse of tanned skin and taut muscles aching to be touched and marred, the Daoist found himself hesitating once more.

He’d been kissing his way down his husband’s hipbone and the junction between his hip and thigh, and Shen Qiao could smell the musk of Yan Wushi’s arousal, which only served to make his cheeks heat up more. He froze at the sight of his husband’s swollen and dripping cock.

“You know…” Shen Qiao started, gaze downcast, “I have never done this before, so let me know if you feel any discomfort or pain…”

As if Yan Wushi needed that reminder.

He’d been trying so hard to maintain the last thread of self-control he had, too, and one innocent comment from his dear husband had completely shattered what sanity remained inside of him.

“My good Ah-Qiao,” Yan Wushi breathed out, reaching for the other man’s hands, and their fingers interlaced as if it was the most natural thing in the world, “no matter what you do to me, I am certain that I will have nothing but praises for you.”

Shen Qiao shook his head once and laughed softly, the sound and his expression so tender that Yan Wushi couldn’t help but squeeze his fingers tighter before guiding those same calloused hands to where Yan Wushi needed him to touch.

His cock was slick and hot – almost abnormally so, which Shen Qiao supposed made sense since this was a symptom of qi deviation – but it didn’t diminish the fact that it was big, the shine of pre-cum drooling from the tip simultaneously tempting and intimidating.

Shen Qiao swallowed at the sight despite Yan Wushi’s generous words, and tentatively, he licked the tip and contemplated the responsive shudder that ran up Yan Wushi’s spine.

A good sign, Shen Qiao mused quietly to himself, and then he did it again – small, experimental flicks of his tongue against the velvety skin of the head as if he was tasting a new flavor of candy. Shen Qiao decided he rather liked it, especially the interesting reactions his gesture seemed to be kindling in Yan Wushi, the way he hissed impatiently and tangling his fingers into Shen Qiao’s hair, tugging to beg wordlessly.

Encouraged by his husband’s response, Shen Qiao took it a step further, and envelope the entire head into the moist cavern of his mouth, first delicately wrapping his lips around the tip and taking care to not let his teeth scrape against the sensitive skin there, then slowly swallowing Yan Wushi centimeter by centimeter until he found it hard to breath and his jaw began to ach.

“Gods, Ah-Qiao, you are going to be the death of me…” Yan Wushi murmured shakily, his hand cradling the back of Shen Qiao’s head gently while fingers idly played with his frost green hair ribbon. The cold silk felt like cooling water in the springtime against his fingertips, and it reminded Yan Wushi of that one night when he used that exact hair ribbon to tie Shen Qiao’s wrists while he had his way with him.

The memories didn’t serve him well, for a stream of unfathomable heat and prickling desire blazed down his meridian network and made his cock twitch in Shen Qiao’s mouth.

Shen Qiao’s eyes flickered up to check on his husband, and noticed that Yan Wushi had one arm thrown across his face in an attempt to muffle his moans. His hazel eyes darkened, and he resumed to sucking; where his mouth couldn’t reach, Shen Qiao made use of his hand at the base, pumping in time with the movement of his mouth and tongue and sliding wetly up and down Yan Wushi’s length.

Feeling his thighs beginning to shake at the anticipation of release, Shen Qiao pulled up but his hand didn’t let up its pace. He peppered contrastingly soft kisses along the inside of Yan Wushi’s thigh while his hand tugged in a tempo that was verging on brutal, but that was exactly what Yan Wushi needed.

It didn’t take long for him to climax into Shen Qiao’s hand with a choked groan, and strands of white landed on his own abdomen as well as on his husband’s still clean and meticulous robes.

“W-was that all right?” Shen Qiao asked, uncertainty tinting his hoarse whisper as he climbed back up to look at Yan Wushi properly. He was about to measure the man’s pulse again when he saw tear streaks down Yan Wushi’s cheeks. Heart seized up in a panic, he quickly dabbed the wetness away with his sleeve, a trail of apologies ready on his tongue.

Yan Wushi caught his forearm and planted a small kiss on the inside of his wrist.

“It was more than all right,” Yan Wushi assured him with a languid smile, releasing Shen Qiao’s hand and raising his arm up to brush his thumb against the other man’s red and abused lower lip, the colour so mesmerizing that he couldn’t help but pull Shen Qiao down for a brief but dirty, open-mouthed kiss before murmuring against his ear once they both ran out of air, “in fact, I think I am already starting to feel better, but you know this husband needs more, right?”

Shen Qiao nodded, biting his lip. After easing off of Yan Wushi’s body, he shrugged off his soiled outer robe and moved to retrieve the ceramic vial that he knew his husband kept inside a hidden compartment by the side of their bed. He fumbled with the stopper until it popped out, and he shakily poured out a significant amount of carrageenan extract into his hand.

The texture of it was a little off-putting – a sticky gel-like consistency that reminded him of… another kind of bodily fluid – but he wanted to ensure that he wouldn’t hurt Yan Wushi in the process. After all, Shen Qiao himself wasn’t very experienced, and though this whole ordeal was nothing but a medical treatment, the sect leader of Xuan Du still needed to ensure that Yan Wushi would not be wounded further.

“You will tell me if I am hurting you, will you not?”

The concern in his eyes was genuine. Everything about Shen Qiao was genuine, and Yan Wushi used to think this kind of naturally honest nature was the trait of an absolute fool, yet here he was, in love with a so-called fool.

Maybe he was the one who’d become a fool after all this time.

He didn’t have enough time to contemplate any further than that, because Shen Qiao was kissing him on the mouth when he didn’t answer.

“Yan-lang?”

Yan Wushi couldn’t find it in himself to tease his husband this time, so with equal sincerity, he said, “I will, Ah-Qiao.”

“Good,” Shen Qiao nodded with a small satisfied smile.

With his fingers slicked up with lubricant, Shen Qiao once again returned his attention to his present task. He knelt between Yan Wushi’s legs, which he had opened up slightly wider to more easily accommodate his partner, and carefully slipped the tip of his middle finger into Yan Wushi’s puckered hole.

Unaccustomed to the strange sensation down there, Yan Wushi instinctively wanted to escape from the touch by closing his legs together, but Shen Qiao steadied him with his other hand by firmly pushing against his thigh while pushing his finger further in until the entire digit was swallowed up by the warm tightness.

“Nnng… Ah-Qiao… it feels odd…” Yan Wushi exhaled with a tremulous murmur.

“Odd in a good way or in a bad way?” Shen Qiao asked, stilling his motion and lifting his gaze back up to Yan Wushi’s face to observe his expression.  

“Undetermined,” Yan Wushi decided, letting his eyes fall close and breathing out to try to relax his body. The unyielding roiling waves of gnawing desire had subsided a little after he’d climaxed earlier, but with his qi still stuck, that unwelcoming stream of energy was beginning to gather at the pit of his stomach all too soon, causing his cock to stir again even though he hadn’t been touched there yet.

“Hm,” Shen Qiao only hummed thoughtfully. He opted to continue for now.

He pumped his finger in and out a few times to allow Yan Wushi to get used to the sensation before he increased the pace and added a second finger, crooking them in a shallow angle to find the correct acupressure points. To Shen Qiao’s delight, the gesture caused Yan Wushi’s breathing to quicken, his chest rising and falling in tormented groans. His cock lengthened and swelled with blood, and was soon back to its full strength.

“Haaah… Ah-Qiao, keep going…”

The fingering had felt good – so damn good – even though Shen Qiao claimed that he was inexperienced. He must have picked up some skills from Yan Wushi during their previous intimate nights, for after the early moment of embarrassment and hesitation, the way he manipulated Yan Wushi’s body with his slender and calloused fingers had become proficient and deadly.

“I am going to start transferring my qi through your acupoints starting from the Qugu point,” Shen Qiao said, trying to tear his eyes away from Yan Wushi’s debauched expression –  silvery-white and ink-black hair sticking to his sweat-slicked skin, eyes squeezed close, head craned back to expose the strong line of his throat, and the occasional moans slipping past his throat – but as he shifted his gaze back to where his fingers were, still buried deep within Yan Wushi’s hole, which had turned dusty pink and glistening from the extract around the ridge, Shen Qiao was starting to question his ability to carry on this operation.

“W-what?”

The feverish desire had reached its new height so that Yan Wushi was unable to think clearly. He was only vaguely aware that Shen Qiao said something and that he needed something much bigger and thicker to fill the void that was verging on swallowing his whole being.

“Never mind,” Shen Qiao said and took a deep breath to regain focus. With attentive eyes and precise execution, Shen Qiao directed the qi inside of his own body so that it flowed in a gradual stream towards the tips of his middle and ring fingers; when he grazed upwards, he aimed the flow of qi to the Qugu point, which was physically the closest to where his fingertips were.

From there, Shen Qiao pushed his qi forward, testing the give of the entire trail of Conception Vessel before forcing it through to the next acupoint, up Zhongji and pierced through to Guanyuan.

“Yan-lang, how do you feel?”

Yan Wushi had been chillingly quiet since Shen Qiao had started transferring his own qi into his husband’s body, and his abnormal silence made the Daoist thought that maybe the demonic sovereign was rejecting his qi due to their different martial arts origins.  

“Ah-Qiao…” he gasped, eyes hooded and the blood-red of his irises just a thin ring from his fully dilated pupils, “too… too much…”

Shen Qiao’s heart thudded against his ribcage at how wrecked Yan Wushi sounded. He’d never seen the man like this, even when he was lost in the deepest end of pleasure, and somewhere buried, hidden, and shaped by years of Daoist teachings and morals was an instinctive part of Shen Qiao that had woken up from seeing this vulnerable, intimate side of the usually self-assured and strong Yan Wushi, the cold, ruthless, selfish leader of Huan Yue Sect.

“Yan-lang,” Shen Qiao caressed his husband’s cheek in comfort, wiping away a stray tear that’d escaped his eyes, “we are almost there, just hold on for Ah-Qiao’s sake. Will you do that for me?”

Yan Wushi closed his eyes and shook his head, and his body seemed to suddenly stop being pliant as well.

Shen Qiao’s qi couldn’t advance further; if he kept forcing it, he might risk injuring the rest of Yan Wushi’s meridian system, and that was the last thing Shen Qiao wanted.

“All right, all right,” Shen Qiao cooed, gently taking his fingers out.

Yan Wushi sighed out with a shuddering breath, half in relief and half in lament at the dizzying empty feeling.

If this method didn’t work, he might need to find another way. Shen Qiao was nothing if not resourceful.

“Ah-Qiao, I want you…” Yan Wushi grasped Shen Qiao’s right hand and placed it pointedly against his husband’s clothed arousal, the fabric of which had already been darkened from spots of precum.

“!”

Shen Qiao shuddered when Yan Wushi weakly squeezed his cock through his trousers.

Well, Yan Wushi never had been one to beat around the bush, so Shen Qiao didn’t know what he’d been expecting.

“I —” Shen Qiao paused. Verbally expressing his affection for his husband still didn’t come easily to him, but there were rare moments like this that he found it to be the simplest, most natural thing to do. “I want you, too, Yan-lang.”

The candles were burning dangerously low, and a few had already extinguished, casting the room deeper into the night.

After removing the rest of his clothing, Shen Qiao folded the blanket into a make-shift cushion and placed it under his partner’s lower back before settling back between Yan Wushi’s legs. With one hand wrapped around Yan Wushi’s waist to steady him and the other gently parting the two mounds of firm muscles to reveal the slightly swollen hole, Shen Qiao lined himself up.

All this time, he’d been so focused on mending Yan Wushi’s meridian network that he’d been neglecting his own desire, and now that it’d been freed from the restraint of his undergarment, it was clear that Shen Qiao had been holding back.

He started slow – for both Yan Wushi and his own sanity.  

The tip went in easily enough from the ample preparation and Shen Qiao’s own precum lubricating the first part of the entry. The velvet heat that instantly surrounded him was intoxicating, and if Shen Qiao had less self-control, he’d have immediately slammed himself in as deep and hard as he could, but in the end, he managed to reign in that flaring craving that was slowly but surely burning his logic and patience into ashes.

Resisting the urge to thrust all the way in took all of Shen Qiao’s willpower; his knuckles turned white from how hard he was grasping onto Yan Wushi’s hips, which would surely leave bruises that the demonic sovereign would later smugly show his embarrassed husband.

Little by little, Shen Qiao pushed himself into that addictive and delicious heat, all the time still observing for any ailing changes in Yan Wushi’s body. If anything, it seemed having Shen Qiao slowly fucking himself into him only made him more vocal.

“D-do not stop, please… feels good…” Yan Wushi wasn’t helping a bit as he wrapped his legs tightly around Shen Qiao’s waist, imploring for him to go deeper.

Seeing that he wasn’t causing his partner any discomfort, Shen Qiao steeled himself and plunged all the way in until he was fully sheathed. He panted harshly into Yan Wushi’s mouth, who slipped his tongue sloppily into the offered mouth and teased Shen Qiao with filthy kisses that had them both breathing hard.

Shen Qiao finally lost that last strand of calm composure. Foreheads touching, eyes clouded by ravenous hunger, and forearms caging Yan Wushi’s yearning body between his arms, Shen Qiao pulled out slightly and thrusted back in, with enough force to make Yan Wushi gasp and scrambling for purchase.

He did it again and again, skin slapping against skin, the sound seeming to resonate within the walls of their sacred bedchamber, each time more urgent and more fervent than the last.

“Mnnn…. Fuck, Ah-Qiao feels so good inside me…”

“Haah… ah… do you feel no shame, Yan-zongzhu?” Shen Qiao nuzzled the side of Yan Wushi’s neck and kissed him roughly there, leaving more small bruises and teeth marks that wouldn’t fade for days.

“Aww… what happened to calling me ‘Yan-lang’?” Yan Wushi chuckled, placing one hand against the back of Shen Qiao’s head. A soft tug on the ribbon loosened the elegant twist of hair that cascaded over Shen Qiao’s pale shoulders like ink splashing on canvas. “Did I perhaps unknowingly anger Ah-Qiao?”

Shen Qiao paused, leaving only the tip of his cock inside his partner, which instantly drove Yan Wushi to buckle his hips upward in a sorry endeavor to tempt Shen Qiao into moving. He gave Yan Wushi a pointed glare, though the intended effect was dampened by the blush spreading from his cheeks down to his neck and chest and the fact that he was, in fact, fucking Yan Wushi into their bed.

“You know what you did,” Shen Qiao mumbled, finding himself impossible to be truly mad at him in this current situation.

“Hmm…” Yan Wushi scattered soft kisses on the other man’s forehead, eyelids, the bridge of his nose, and finally licking the shell of his ear, he continued with a grin, “can it be that Ah-Qiao is flustered by what I said?”

“There is no need for you to be using such foul and explicit language,” Shen Qiao argued, turning his head away, but it only gave Yan Wushi the perfect angle to kiss down his neck and nibble his collarbone.

“Oh, but there is a need,” Yan Wushi countered, tightening his legs around Shen Qiao’s waist so that he was dragged back into where Yan Wushi needed him to be. The fullness that had at first felt overwhelming was now a welcoming sensation, and he could feel the few acupoints that Shen Qiao had sent his qi through had been cleared, but there were still two spots that he knew needed to be unclogged before his own torrent of qi could flow smoothly and safely.  “I need to tell Ah-Qiao how well he had been treating this husband, do I not? And I cannot find the adequate language unless I am using those exact words. Is there something wrong with that? Does Ah-Qiao not like it when I give you compliments?”

“I-It is not like that!”

There was no use having a proper discussion with Yan Wushi’s twisted sense of logic, so Shen Qiao didn’t try to. Instead, he returned to his previous act, except this time he was thrusting in with more force and fire, almost like he was wordlessly taking his own personal vengeance against Yan Wushi’s body.

“Haaah… Ah-Qiao!” Yan Wushi groaned, casting a half-hearted accusatory glare at the other man when Shen Qiao hit the spot that made him see stars and his hole contract around his husband’s length. “… just because… just because you cannot see yourself winning the argument against this venerable one does not mean you should stoop to such low m— nnnng!” Distracted by the sudden onslaught of flickering flames licking down his back and in the pit of his stomach, Yan Wushi hadn’t noticed the fingers placed strategically across his abdomen until he felt a hot stream of foreign qi invaded his meridian network – just as Shen Qiao’s cock was sweetly, torturously invading his inside.

The pleasure that bloomed and erupted from the coil seated deep within him was blinding; it was wonderful and terrifying, devastating yet cherished. Yan Wushi hardly noticed Shen Qiao’s climax when he was still convulsing and quivering from his own release; thick ropes of milky white cum landed and splattered messily on his own chest and tainted Shen Qiao’s unmarred skin.  

His mind was blissfully blank for a brief moment while he waited for Shen Qiao to come down from his high. He sensed more than knew that he was filled to the brim with his husband’s seed, and that the last acupoints had been broached to allow his qi to flow effortlessly again.

The last candle burned out, and the room sank into complete darkness except for the hint of watery light from the crescent moon outside.

“Yan-lang?” Shen Qiao wanted to pull out but an arm thrown carelessly around his lower back stopped him from doing so. He heaved a soft sigh but remained in Yan Wushi’s embrace, laying his head against his husband’s chest despite the sticky, sweaty mess they’d made of each other.

“Hmm?” his voice rumbled in the dark, like the earth trembling beneath Shen Qiao’s feet, the sound irritatingly lackadaisical yet strangely kept his heart and mind at peace.

“Your meridian network…?”

“Thanks to Ah-Qiao’s magnificent medical skills, I believe my qi deviation has been treated and my meridian network perfectly restored,” Yan Wushi said, playing with a strand of Shen Qiao’s hair.

Shen Qiao exhaled in relief.

“Though to be certain that it is entirely healed, we might need to have the same treatment performed again, under Shen-zhangjiao’s skillful practice, of course.”

“Yan Wushi!”

Shen Qiao slapped him on the bicep, which only made Yan Wushi snicker harder.

When his laughter finally died down, and he could hear Shen Qiao’s breathing mellowing, Yan Wushi combed his fingers soothingly through his husband’s slightly tangled locks and murmured against the crown of his head.

“Shen Qiao.”

“Hmm?” he mumbled sleepily.

“Ah-Qiao.”

Shen Qiao opened his eyes blearily and pushed himself up just enough to look at Yan Wushi, who was gazing at him with bright eyes and a tender smile.

“Yes?”

A bit of his lucidity returned at the sight of Yan Wushi’s expression.

“I promise you,” Yan Wushi held onto Shen Qiao’s hand and placed a kiss on the back of it, “from this day on, I promise that no matter what kind of problems I may encounter, Ah-Qiao will be the first to know. In return, will you promise to stay by this venerable one’s side no matter what may become of me?”

“Silly Yan-lang,” Shen Qiao pecked him lightly on the forehead before making himself comfortable on Yan Wushi’s chest again, “always.”

#thousand autumns #qian qiu #yanshen #shan he jian xin #yan wushi #shen qiao #bowie's crappy writing

[the-mystic-dragon]

OC Interview: Vraeen

Draw (or use an old drawing, don't worry!) or take a screen of your character in an interview setting and make them answer the following questions!

I was tagged by @long-journey, who is the rightful creator of this original post :) Thank you!!

INTRODUCTION:

1. Can you introduce yourself?: "Hello, I'm Vraeen. Most civilians know me as the Commander, the Champion of Aurene." She gave a small smile.

2. What is your gender identity, orientation and relationship status? "Well, gender identity has always been a fluid and fickle thing with sylvari race. However, I identity as a female." She pauses for a moment, tilting her head to the side in thought. "O-Orientation? Do you mean who I like?" She whispered to the interviewer, light laughter in her quizzical tone. "I believe the term is bisexual regarding myself on that matter. I'm single as well."

3. Where and when were you born?: "I was born- well sylvari aren't born in the natural sequence other races are. We are created by the Pale Tree, we come out of pods-" She stopped herself for a moment, waving her hand briefly to dismiss the tangent. "I awoke at night towards the end of the summer. I remember waking up right outside of the Grove, everything was glowing in Caledon. It was beautiful."

4. What is your weapon of choice and fighting style?: "I prefer my axe and dagger, one of the weapons I had found when I was able to control my new soulbeast capabilities in the Crystal Desert. I keep my short bow on me as well, when I need to create some distance between a foe and myself. My style would entail a quick and powerful take down for enemies, not before they are hit with traps and the nature below turning against them."

5. Lastly, are you happy?: She gave the interviewer an icy gaze for a few minutes. "Hm, you don't seem to have any hesitance with personal questions do you? I suppose I am, Tyria is still surviving."

FAMILY AND FRIENDS:

1. What's your family like? What is your relationship with them?: "Some sylvari say our race are brothers and sisters to one another, family members that span across generations and generations. I.. don't think I have any close brothers or sisters of my kind. Not in my generation, at least."

"Caithe I would consider an older sister, a mentor who has guided me through challenges in my sapling days. Our relationship was.. nice at first, we hit a rough part during the Maguuma campaign. It wasn't good. After some time passed, we were able to mend it. I'm glad I have her in my life, she's important to me."

2. Have you ever ran away from home?: "Ran away wouldn't be the terms I would use to describe my path. I was drawn away, a feeling gripped me like a tether pulling me to where I needed to be."

3. Would you consider marriage or having children?: "No, my responsibilities wouldn't let me be able to manage those things." She sighed. "I have not had any interest in marriage or children though."

4. Do you secretly hate one of your friends?: "In the past, I will admit I harbored deep resentment for Caithe for an action she did. I was blinded by anger, stress, and confusion while dealing with chaos in the thick jungle. I made sure she knew." She shook her head, casting her gaze down to the ground for a moment. "Those feelings only occured for a while however, I do not hate any friends I have."

5. Which friend knows everything about you?: "Caithe, Canach, and Aurene."

ASKED BY FANS:

1. Are you literate? Have you been to school?: "There are mentors in the Grove to teach saplings about valuable lessons in life. I... never went to those classes though." She paused, a light chuckle erupting from her lips. "I have not been to what other races consider traditional schooling I suppose, I have learned all I can from my experiences in the world and my time in the Priory."

2. The eeriest prediction you made that later came true?: "Predictions? I cannot recall any I have made."

3. What is something you were embarrassingly late to realize?: "You are asking a sylvari? I'd have quite a collection of occurrences! We would be here for awhile. Let's just say, when I was younger it was appreciated to have a helpful ally in the Priory answer numerous questions I had."

4. Do you have mental health or physical issues?: "Is that information you must know?"

5. What is your current main goal?: "Learn all I can about the Elder Dragon magic we are dealing with. Keep Tyria safe."

CHOICES:

1. Drink or food?: "Can I say both? There are so many flavors I have yet to try."

2. Cats or dogs?: She rested her hand over her chest, leaning back in her chair with her mouth agape in surprise. "I am a ranger, I love all animals equally."

While she shifted back to a comfortable position in her seat, she mumbled under her breath. "Cats."

3. Early bird or night owl?: "I am a Nightbloom, I prefer the night."

4. Optimist or pessimist?: "I am a optimist."

5. Sassy or sarcastic?: "Oh goodness, Canach has been a great teacher in these personal qualities. I'd like to say I am a bit of both, lots of banter and jokes between us. It never ends."

HAVE YOU EVER:

1. Been caught sneaking out: "In my early days in the Priory, Magister Sieran and I would sneak out of the fortress to explore and find new ruins or artifacts." She reminisced with a small smile, her eyes glossing over. "Gixx looked like he was about to- how do you say- blow a gasket, when he saw us creeping back in."

She leaned over to the interviewer, a hand over the side of her face to shield her mouth. "He may not show it, but he truly cares for every member of the Priory. It's just behind his no nonsense exterior." She whispered in a low tone, a small smirk on her face.

2. Broke a bone: "In my line of work, I have broken a few unfortunately."

3. Received flowers: "Yes I have! I have had quite a handful sent to or given to me by thankful citizens. It is such a kind gesture."

4. Ghosted someone: "Ghosted? What does that mean?"

Vraeen stepped off to the side; a hushed, short conversation was heard for a few minutes before she returned to her seat.

"I have done that to an assistant- er, bodyguard-" She was cut off by banging and people squabbling in the background. A deep, cool voice interjected up in a sharp shout. "HEY-- WAIT- VRAEEN-"

"Excuse me, I was speaking," she spoke up again, glaring towards the area of commotion in the background. "A charr associate that aids Dragons Watch, Valdoru Bladerend; who has graciously made her presence known off on the sidelines, did not get off to a great start with me when we first met in the Far Shiverspeaks. I tried to disappear off her radar a few times, but Ash Legion charr... they are hard to shake. They have skilled talents in stealth."

5. Pretended to laugh at a joke you didn't get: "Oh, many times. It took a little bit of time before I learned the meaning behind certain jokes, I was still gaining knowledge about aspects of life. Conversations included."

I tag (with no obligation of course!):

@cousinslavellan

@commander-wame

@commander-triangle

@commanders-sole-braincell

@astralarias

@commander-pleur

@kerra-and-company

#apologies for the screen quality i need better graphics oqrfngds #this was so fun to do max!! you did such a great job with the questions #you have made so many cool content for this fandom i love it #i want to do this with valdoru but i need to develop her story more lol #vraeen #gw2

[allsassnoclass]

The Inherent Domesticity of Target’s Home Decor Section

Pairing: Michael Clifford/Calum Hood Rating: Teen Word Count: 2076 Read on AO3

Michael has mixed feelings about Target.  On one hand, Target is better than Walmart, and he appreciates that they get to design different album covers and sell special editions there.  On the other hand, walking into Target makes him feel like he should have his life together more.  That’s not to say that his life is a disaster; his life is actually pretty great, and he feels like a fully functioning adult.  However, the store still gives him the niggling feeling that he should buy a planner and some post-it notes and turn into a suburban mom.

“Do you think I should buy a planner?” he asks.  Calum hums, reading the back of a DVD that’s on sale for $5.  When he shifts to put it back on the shelf, Michael shifts right with him, arms around his stomach and cheek plastered against his shoulder.  It’s earlier in the morning than Michael would like, so Calum gets the privilege of holding him up as punishment for dragging him out into the world at this time of day.

“Why do you need a planner?  Ashton takes care of that stuff for the band,” Calum says.  He picks up another DVD and flips it over.

“Yeah, but maybe I should put down everyone’s birthday or something,” he says.  Calum snorts and Michael pinches his side, because he’s apologized for forgetting his birthday that one time sincerely and profusely and gave Calum a pretty spectacular blowjob to make up for it.

“Would you even use it?” Calum asks.  Michael considers and has to concede his point.

They look at DVDs for a few more minutes because Calum gets a kick out of what a place like Target choses to stock in their meger selection.  Michael lets him slip some animated thing he thinks he watched once as a kid into the basket, content to stand there while Calum takes his time and just breathe him in.  He loves being close to Calum, letting his familiar smell fill his nostrils and leeching body heat.  He lets their breathing sync up and imagines that he can hear his heartbeat, slow and steady and almost putting him to sleep standing up.

Nowhere feels like home quite like Calum does.  Even in the middle of Target, Michael feels better than he ever has alone in his house.  It makes him wonder why he’s even living alone, and why Calum pulled away and they stopped messing around when neither of them have girlfriends.

The bottom line is that he misses Calum nearly every moment they’re apart, but he doesn’t know how to articulate this without the crushing fear of rejection.  Calum loves him, and he knows that a significant part of Calum’s world revolves around Michael, but that doesn’t mean they necessarily love each other in the same way.  Michael wants grocery shopping and kisses and late night cuddles regardless of if they have somewhere to be in the morning and lazy sex and laughing at each other’s ridiculousness so hard that he can’t breathe.  Calum wants a platonic best friend.

“What else do we still need to get?” Calum asks, shaking Michael out of his reverie.

“Toothpaste, I think.  And vitamins.”

“Look at you, being healthy and shit.”

Michael pokes his side and Calum tries to wriggle away, giggling because Michael knows exactly which spot tickles the most.

“Just because I don’t let Ashton drag me to yoga like you do doesn’t mean I’m unhealthy.  I get the most sleep out of any of us and I drink a fuckton of water.”

“I know, I know,” Calum says.  “Want to check the CDs?”

It’s a distraction tactic, because Michael will always check the one-shelf CD selection, especially so soon after one of their own releases.  Michael makes the conscious decision to allow himself to be distracted.

“Okay.  CDs, then toothpaste, then vitamins, then I want to look at the home decor.”

“What do you want to look at the home decor for?”

Michael shrugs, knowing that Calum can feel it.  There’s just no non-incriminating way to say I like to see your reactions and pretend that we’re picking out stuff for our house because I might be fully in love with you and I want you in every single crevice of my life.

That’s the issue with Target: it makes him feel domestic and long for things he can’t have.

“Excuse me?” a new voice says, and Michael first feels a twinge of annoyance at someone interrupting his moment and then a twinge of panic that it could be a fan when he definitely doesn’t have the emotional or physical energy to put on a public persona.  One look at the owner of the voice dispels that notion.  The woman is on the later side of middle-aged and looks pretty much exactly like the kind of woman who cooks meatloaf and has 3 cats and actually does go to Target to buy planners.  As inclusive as the band tries to make their music, Michael can admit that she’s not exactly in their immediate wheelhouse for fans.  Nevertheless, he straightens up a bit, but the woman is smiling so he thinks he can maybe get away with still locking his arms around Calum’s waist.

“Sorry to bother you, but I just wanted to say that you boys make such a cute couple!  It’s so nice to see young people in love.”

Michael stiffens, but Calum puts a hand on his arm, effectively anchoring him in place before he can pull away.

“Thank you.  It’s nice to be in love,” Calum says, and Michael’s breath stutters in his throat.

The woman beams and for a moment Michael thinks she’s going to reach out and pinch Calum’s cheeks, but she just bids them a good day and continues towards the books.

“CDs?” Calum asks, casual as anything.  Michael nods and fully pulls away, not trusting himself to speak or to touch.

It was just a nice thing to say to a romantic woman, but it’s nice to be in love plays on repeat in his head like a broken record.  He knows, he knows that it doesn’t mean anything, but Michael would give almost anything to have it be the truth.

There are five copies of the Target exclusive edition of CALM on the shelf.  There’s also a Neil Diamond greatest hits collection and a few random soundtracks that Calum points out, but Michael can barely focus.  He kind of wants to skip the toothpaste and go straight home, but he also doesn’t want Calum to question why that small interaction with the woman threw him so off kilter.  By the time they make it through the checkout and back to Michael’s car, he feels like he’s going to vibrate out of his skin.

Calum waits until they’re out of the parking lot to start talking.

“I’m sorry for making you uncomfortable earlier.  That wasn’t my intention.  I just figured that was the easiest response.  I know we’re not--I know we don’t do that anymore.”

In a different world where Michael hasn’t kept a very tight lid on his feelings for his best friend for the past eight years, he would have crashed the car.

“I know,” he says instead.  Silence fills the space, heavy and uncomfortable.  Michael keeps his eyes resolutely on the road and tries not to read too much into how Calum keeps taking a breath as if he wants to talk before cutting himself off.

“And I understand,” Calum says suddenly, almost causing Michael to swerve.  “I understand why we’re not together anymore.”

“What,” Michael says.

“I’m not trying to get you back, or whatever.  I know you don’t think of me like that.”

“That I don’t--” Michael chokes.  “I’m sorry, what?”

“Come on, don’t make me say it,” Calum says, shifting in his seat.

“No, hang on.  I don’t understand what you’re saying to me right now.”

“Mike, stop it.  Now you’re just being mean.”

“Calum, you’re the one who pulled away from me.  Personally, I don’t understand why we’re not together anymore.  I didn’t even know that we were!”

“That’s bullshit!  What did you think we were, if not together?”

“I don’t know, fucking around?  I thought we stopped because you got bored of me.”

“Michael, we stopped because we got asked about ships in an interview and you got really weird about it.”

“Yeah, because I’ve been in love with you for half my life!”

Silence descends, and Michael absolutely cannot look at Calum right now.  The only things that exist are the steering wheel in his grip and the strip of road in front of him.  There’s still a good ten minutes until he reaches his house, and Michael is very content to spend those ten minutes pretending like he is alone and has not just revealed his biggest secret during an argument that he still doesn’t quite understand.

“Pull over.”

No such luck, apparently.

“Michael, pull over right now.”

He eases over and puts the car in park, letting his hands fall into his lap.

“You’re in love with me?” Calum asks.  Michael nods.  “We’re so stupid.”

“What?” Michael asks, finally looking over at Calum.  He doesn’t look uncomfortable or sad, he looks exasperated.  Michael isn’t sure what that’s supposed to mean.

“We’re idiots.  We could’ve been happily dating this whole time.  Hell, we probably could’ve been married by now,” Calum says.  “I’m in love with you, too.”

Michael blinks at him and really wishes his brain was operating a bit faster.

“Calum,” he says, for lack of anything else.

“Michael,” Calum grins right back.

“Are you serious?” he asks.  Calum rolls his eyes.

“Why would I joke about this?”

Michael shrugs helplessly.

“Michael,” Calum says seriously.  “I made you park the car.  We just had a conversation that obviously made you uncomfortable.  Why the fuck would I be joking right now?”

Michael shrugs helplessly again.

“You love me?” he asks.  Calum reaches over and grabs one of his hands.

“I’m head over heels, crazy in love with you.  It’s pathetic.  It’s ridiculous.  I want to jump you in this car right now.”

Michael laughs.

“Not in broad daylight,” he says.  Calum smiles in a way that makes something settle in Michael’s stomach, something that he hadn’t realized had been unsettled ever since they stopped seeing each other.

Fuck.  He’s so lucky.

“I’m in love with you, too,” he says.  Calum’s smile widens.

“I know,” he says.  “You just told me that.”

“Well, I wanted to tell you again.”

“Well, I’m in love with you, too.”

They’re talking in circles now--wonderful, love-sick circles--and Michael is thankful for multiple reasons when Calum breaks it by leaning over the center console to kiss him.  Calum’s lips are familiar under his, and even after months without feeling them Michael has them memorized.  This kiss feels different, though.  There’s a surety to it that they haven’t had before, a question and agreement that thrills him.

“You’re sure you don’t want to roll around in the back seat right now?” Calum asks softly when they part.  Michael grins and knocks their foreheads together.

“You’re funny,” he says.  “Ha, ha.”

Calum kisses him again.  Michael could definitely get used to this.  If their previous conversation is any indication, he’ll have plenty of time and opportunity to get used to this.

This time when the kiss breaks, Calum fully leans back rather than keep breathing his air.

“Okay,” he says.  “Let’s go home, Michael.  We’ve got years of a honeymoon phase to catch up on.”

Michael puts the car in drive and eases back onto the road.  They’ll have time to drive around again later, because Michael definitely wants to do another circuit of the Target home decor section with this new revelation.  Maybe he’ll try to find a card for the woman who confused them for a couple, just in case they happen to run into her by the post-it notes or planners.

Either way, Michael thinks that Target might be his favorite store now.  He glances at Calum to find him already looking at him and his chest warms.

Yeah, Target is definitely his favorite store, but he’d be okay with never setting foot in it again if it meant he could keep spending time with his favorite person.

Thankfully, the way that Calum leans over to kiss him at a red light seems to mean that he agrees.

#my writing #malum #5sos fic #5sos fanfiction #i began this in may of 2020 so it's an alternate universe with no covid #can you believe it took me this long to finish lol #also i feel like this is an interesting way to see how my writing style has changed #this is very helen-influenced i think #the title for this in my google drive is t-t-t-t-TARGET

[minmotl]

Chapter 66: Tang Fan Realizes He Cannot Lose Sui Zhou

Context: Sui Zhou, Tang Fan and their men head into one of the tombs together after finding remnants of the missing villagers right outside the entrance of a tomb. One of the men’s lower body has already been eaten up, and they are sure that there is a sort of creature and monster in the tomb, and hence decide to visit and clear this case once and for all. 

They are accompanied by the old village chief’s oldest son, and once they are there and get into trouble, Tang Fan and Sui Zhou finally find out who this son actually is - Li Man, Tang Fan’s previous landlord before he moved in with Sui Zhou, the man who plotted to kill his own wife and then let his son go to prison in his stead, and let him die there before fleeing with his new pregnant mistress. Turns out that Li Man is actually affiliated to the White Lotus Sect.

After his identity is exposed as they are all trapped in the tomb, Li Man takes Tang Fan hostage, but Sui Zhou to the rescue! As they try to get out alive while battling the creature physically, and also dealing with scheming mastermind Li Man and less-than-cooperative subordinates, Tang Fan and Sui Zhou really have their work cut out for them. 

*Do read the previous highlight Ch. 60-61 to find out who the village chief and Tang Fan’s uncooperative mofo of a subordinate Yin Yuan Hua are, and also a refresh on the case XD Qian San Er is a young boy, thief-turned-ally that follows Tang Fan from this case onwards and later works for him

*No major Fanzhou ROMANTIC moments in this chapter, but they’re trying to save each other and trying to outwit the bad guy, and also the creature is this huge-ass crocodile that eats people lmao, and they’re trapped in the tomb ;-; 

Sort of MAJOR FANZHOU MOMENT AT THE END of this chapter!!!

Introduction Post | Masterpost

—

Highlights under the cut

Li Man is just realising how extremely useful a hostage is, and before he gets a chance to put his hand on Tang Fan’s neck, a sharp pain comes from his exposed back. He cannot help but cry out in pain, and then the person he caught to play his human shield earlier is gone. The side of his arm has taken a heavy hit, and the pain he feels has him loosening the hold on his blade uncontrollably.

It is but a short moment, but the situation has already changed significantly.

Li Man is originally a businessman and his skills are nowhere better than Tang Fan’s. Otherwise, he would not have been unsure about how much force to use when he took up an axe earlier to slash at others. His two henchmen, however, are clearly more skilled than he is, as faced with the closing in of the Embroidered Uniform Guards, they managed to struggle a little before being forced to surrender.

“What are you guys doing here!” Li Man glares at the person before him in disbelief after his arms are restrained ruthlessly behind his back.

Fate is playing tricks on him. All that he put Tang Fan through earlier is now being applied on himself.

An Embroidered Uniform Guard walks over and then pushes the stone door open slowly. Under Li Man and his henchmen’s glares, Pang Qi walks in with a large gait from the outside, bringing with him Qian San Er and others. The stone door then closes shut heavily again.

The threat they felt from the approaching tomb beast earlier seems like just an illusion.

Sui Zhou personally unties Tang Fan, and asks, concerned, “You’re alright?”

“I’m good,” Tang Fan shakes his head, and then looks around his surroundings.

From the decor, the huge hall they are at is actually at the core of Marquis Gong’s tomb. the coffin in the center is where Marquis Gong’s corpse is located, and the floral patterns on top of the coffin confirm Tang Fan’s earlier guess, that this is indeed the tomb of a former Marquis of the Qin empire.

However, because this central hall’s space is larger, on the left and right there are accompanying side halls that emulate the place the tomb owner was staying in when he was alive. Li Man and the rest of them only lit up a single light. As a result, aside from this small circular area near the light, other parts of this hall are shrouded in darkness.

Stuck in such an environment, it is natural to look towards the light and avoid the darkness, so people consciously turn their eyes towards where there is light, and when these eyes look towards other places, they will be temporarily blinded.

Sui Zhou and his men made use of this to first hide within the accompanying side halls, holding their breaths so they could strike accurately when Li Man’s defences are down.

Although Li Man also realises this, he is still in disbelief, as he always seems to lose to his own plans and fall into Tang Fan’s hands repeatedly.

“This is impossible, my people definitely lured you away, how did you run here from that side?”

Sui Zhou does not pay him any mind, and looks first to Tang Fan instead.

Tang Fan jokes, “Because Sui-zhenfushi is both smart and legendary in combat, and common people are unable to see through him!”

Sui Zhou’s eyes reveal a tinge of mirth, but when he turns towards Li Man again, his expression has returned to its cold and firm state, “The set up laid in this tomb, we already knew most of it before we came down here…”

Before he can finish, Li Man shouts, “Impossible!”

There is naturally a reason behind him saying that. When royals are buried, to prevent tomb robbers, not only must there not be any details left behind for transfer, sometimes even the architects behind the tomb construction have to be killed as well. Or even like how Cao Cao did it, setting up 72 decoy tombs - this was all to confuse the people left and absolutely prevent robberies.

Although doing this may not be entirely effective, everyone has always done it this way in history, so being a little more careful and meticulous will not go wrong.

This tomb is located under the Yong Hou Tomb, and there aren’t many people who know this, not to mention anyone knowing how it’s been set up.

Facing Li Man’s ‘I am cultured so you better stop lying to me’ expression, Tang Fan patiently explains, “Before I became an official, I once wandered the world and came across the region of Shan Xi. There are plenty of tombs there, and it is said that the Zhou royal family’s tomb has long been emptied by local raiders, but the burial mounds and archaeological site are still intact. Under my observations, I realised that the structure of these sites are more similar than different.”

“Yong Hou Tomb only has two levels in the underground palace, this is clearly written by those who have come here before. Ancestor Song Ying was buried in a hurry, and so any secret passages were unable to be built. Although you are not the real Liu Da Niu, but to lure us down here, you put in quite a bit of effort.”

“Not everything you said is fake, at least half of it is real, and Qian San Er did not lie, so combining what the both of you said, then it is not difficult to conclude that when you said there was a third level in this tomb, this means that there has to be another royal member’s tomb.”

“So I took note of this, and looking through local records, I realised that this used to be the land of the Gong Empire, belonging to the Zhou emperor Wang Ji. The Zhou empire practiced gifting their land to accomplished officials, and a small empire like this, all infrastructure must have imitated that of the Zhou royal family’s, including their tombs.”

Li Man continues, “So you applied the set up you saw in the Zhou dynasty’s tombs in Shan Xi over here.”

Tang Fan nods in agreement, “Exactly, but this is equivalent only to trying to draw a tiger by looking at a cat - it is not possible for every tomb to look exactly the same, and even if we know the gist of the set up, there will definitely be differences in between. For example, the traps in this tomb, we couldn’t have known this first. But it is precisely at this moment that you did us a huge favour.”

Li Man’s voice is hoarse, “What favour?”

Tang Fan says, “After we came down, there were plenty of scattered treasures, but there were no bodies. If the creature swallowed the meat and bones together, this I can understand, but from what Qian San Er described, we know that when Li Kui and the rest came down here and fought with the creature, this was surely a nasty, tough fight. So the places that we passed by, it is impossible for them to be so clean. No matter how aggressive and fierce this creature is, one or two limbs or body parts would surely have been left behind. Since this is unnatural, something must be amiss. Someone must have deliberately cleaned this place up in hopes of luring us down here.”

“Very logical,” Li Man says, “And?”

“Since you deliberately lured us here, then you must first ensure your own safety. You couldn’t possibly have allowed yourself to fall prey to the traps, so Sui Zhou and I felt at ease, enough to bring the men down here.”

“I remember that when I was about to kill you, the creature shrieked,” Li Man says, his eyebrows furrowed.

Tang Fan makes a noise of assent, “Qian San Er.”

Hearing his name being called, Qian San Er walks out from the dark calmly, and then shoots Tang Fan a grin, deliberately sucking up to Tang Fan. Then, he brings his hand to the side of his mouth.

A chilling sound echoes, and this is exactly the sound of a ghost crying that they heard earlier!

Li Man and his two henchmen’s eyes go wide.

Qian San Er straightens, his chest protruding outwards and traces of smug delight on his face, “I don’t only know how to steal!”

One must know that his ventriloquism skills are top notch in the Huang He Gang, otherwise he wouldn’t have been brought over here by his shifu to keep watch. Although he was not of much help, but at critical moments, it’s not that he cannot be assigned tasks, and case in point, Li man and the rest were deceived.

The plan was actually very simple. Li Man planned to lure Sui Zhou and his men away and was prepared to first kill Tang Fan and Yin Huan Hua. Who knew that Sui Zhou and the rest of them were already prepared and tackled his scheme with one of their own? Through the White Lotus Sect disciple who wanted to lure them away, they instead managed to figure out all the traps here.

Plus the preparation that Tang Fan made prior to this, having understood the environment and infrastructure before coming down here, as long as they walked about, they would no longer be confused by the misleading traps.

At this point, Sui Zhou and the rest realised that the Tang Fan and Yin Yuan Hua (who were trailing) behind them have vanished. And as Tang Fan knows Sui Zhou, Sui Zhou knows Tang Fan equally well. He knew that Tang Fan would surely think of ways stall for time and await their rescue. The only problem was how they were actually going to meet - And so Sui Zhou asked Qian San Er to mimic the cries of the creatures, all to drive Li Man into the main hall.

And that’s how they have come to the situation before them.

***

Suddenly, Yin Yuan Hua picks up his foot and kicks at Li Man viciously. He demands, “What about the treasures? Where did you hide them all?”

Both of Li Man’s hands are tied up, but he does not get angry at being abruptly kicked to the ground. He only pants, his breaths harsh, “If I tell you, will you guys let me live?”

Yin Huan Hua is still holding a grudge against them for having tied him up earlier and laughs coldly, “All of you tried to rebel and create chaos in the world. It’s already the best case scenario to not have your whole family die to pay for your sins, but you still want to live? if you don’t come clean, just wait to die here!”

As if he heard the biggest joke in history, Li Man suddenly descends into a bout of laughter, and the intensifying pain warps his smile even more.

“What are you laughing at!” Yin Yuan Hua grows cold at his laugh, and almost kicks at him again, but Sui Zhou stops him.

Li Man is laughing uncontrollably, so much so that tears have emerged. He then turns a creepy smile onto Yin Yuan Hua, “I’m laughing at your stupidity! I said so much only to stall for time, so that I may live longer, and then your death sentences will arrive!”

As if in response to Li Man, the moment he finishes speaking, from outside the stone door, an eerie wail resounds from the distance.

Everyone’s expressions change slightly.

Li Man laughs, “I said before that the tomb beasts move when they smell blood and are exceptionally sensitive when it comes to the stench of blood. My blood is bringing them close, and so what if you know all of this? At the end, you still have to die here!”

Heavy thuds echo from outside the stone door, as if an external force is striking against it. In the beginning, the force used was to test the door, but as the door is firm, (the creature) increases its strength. The stone door and the whole hall along with it is struck with so much force that they are shaking slightly, scattering plenty of dust to the floor.

Li Man is still laughing, “This secret will forever be buried here, you will never make it out!”

The back of his head is hit heavily by Pang Qi, “You will also have to die here, what rubbish are you saying, think of something!”

Li Man sneers, “I am indebted to the almighty Sect, without it, there would be no wealthy and successful Li Man. My time to repay my debt has come, and to be able to drag all of you to die with me, I will not die in vain!”

While he is speaking, the stone door is again struck heavily (from the outside)! Originally, this door can only be opened with some clever handling, and for humans this is not a difficult thing, but for a ferocious beast, the stone door before its eyes is an obstacle. However, the tomb guarding beast outside clearly is intelligent, and after repeated strikes proved futile, it gradually stops its attacks and instead shifts to other various methods to try.

The people inside the stone room originally thought that even though they are temporarily unable to leave, the beast cannot enter either. As long as they patiently waited for time to pass, after it lost its patience it would leave naturally, but when they see the stone door being pushed open slowly from outside, they cannot help but be terrified.

A black claw that is as sharp as that of a bird’s, but is a few times larger than a normal bird’s, presses in from the gap made by the door. With the force the beast exhibited outside (earlier), if the claw caught onto one of them, it’s likely their heads would split on the spot.

Once they get to this thought, everyone shudders.

Sui Zhou yells, “Hurry go and hold the door!”

Even without him saying this, many people have already rushed forward and are using their bodies to completely jam the door.

However, the external force is too great, and even though everyone is expelling a majority, if not all of their strength, they only manage to push the door back by just a bit. Before any of them can heave a sigh of relief, the stone door is slammed against hard once again!

A lot of them were still stuck to the door, and are shocked immediately, their four limbs going numb and their strength leaving them.

Another strike from outside!

Once more!

And one more time!

Sui Zhou says grimly, “Prepare the hand cannons!”

With this reminder, a lot of them then remember that they did bring their hand cannons with them. Embroidered Uniform Guards with the hand cannons frantically stuff gunpowder inside, and nervously point the barrels towards the stone door area, waiting for this door to collapse…

And yet, whatever negative thoughts they have are realized, and before they are fully prepared, the door is already unable to withstand this huge force. It splits into two pieces and collapse towards the back. Some of them did not evade this in time and are trapped right there and then.

Along with the stone door being destroyed entirely, the heavy stench of blood blows inwards, and everyone almost throws up.

The only candle flame in the hall is extinguished.

***

Yin Yuan Hua leans against the wall as he shakes, and is exposed and unguarded as the creature’s claws sweep over. His face is flushed white, his eyes staring ahead, forgetting to even react to this.

At this time, it is Tang Fan who is right next to him, who reaches out with a hand and tugs him over. Yin Yuan Hua stumbles and barely dodges the claws, and the sharp tips of those claws swipe over the wall, leaving behind three deep claw marks.

If he was still standing there, then right this moment, there would be another corpse with a cut open belly.

Yin Yuan Hua shakily pants as he depends on the wall for support, not quite believing that he managed to escape from death’s clutches then.

“Go to the side halls!” Tang Fan shouts, totally different from his usual gentle, polite self.

He expended a lot of energy earlier to tug Yin Yuan Hua (out of harm’s way), and at this point, his pallor is not any better than the other man’s.

But the next moment, danger descends once again.

The beast seems to have realised that there are two more easy targets here, and it turns its head, its mouth opening wide and sharp white teeth close in.

From Tang Fan saving Yin Yuan Hua to the creature turning its head over, all these happened in merely a blink of an eye!

The beast is unable to bite at two people at the same time, so its very first target is Yin Yuan Hua. His face remains pale, but this time his reaction seems to be faster than the previous time.

There is no time to flee - the creature’s body is much larger than theirs, and so it has already blocked off all their paths for escape.

This time, Yin Yuan Hua finally reacts.

He chooses to tug Tang Fan over on one hand and hide behind him on the other, prepared to use Tang Fan as a human shield to slow down the beast’s progress. After that he will plan his retreat.

He did this in a flash, and no one would have expected him to do this!

Tang Fan is no longer able to hide or dodge in time! Seeing that his shoulder is about to be bitten off like what happened to an Embroidered Uniform Guard earlier, something flashes in Tang Fan’s eyes, and then the creature’s teeth bites onto a xiuchun blade instead!

It’s Sui Zhou!

At the last moment against all odds, Sui Zhou rushed over and with just the force of a single arm, he blocked the beast’s attack with the blade in his hand!

The edge of the blade causes the beast’s soft mouth to bleed, and it bites on the blade in a rage, then throws ruthlessly, sending Sui Zhou flying to the wall right that moment.

Sui Zhou falls heavily, and spits out a mouthful of blood.

“Guang Chuan!” Tang Fan rushes over to pick him up, his eyes going so wide in fury that they are about to split.

Sui Zhou’s face is as white as joss paper, his eyes shut tight. He is likely to have injured his internal organs, and doesn’t even have the strength to talk at that moment.

The warm body in his arms is pressed so close to him, but in that moment, Tang Fan has this sudden fear and uneasiness at the thought of losing him.

The earlier half of Tang Fan’s life - his parents died earlier and his older sister married out of the city. He thought he was alone, that he had no ties or worries, living freely without restrictions. He also thought that even if he was unable to continue being an official, at most he would just put up his hat and leave.

In this lifetime, he thought that perhaps there was nothing he could not let go.

But right this moment, Tang Fan then realises just how much Sui Zhou means to him in his heart. 

So much that he cannot bear the reality of losing the other.

#tsomd #cheng hua's fourteenth year #成化十四年 #suitang #fanzhou #fanzhou highlights #as always i'm sorry it takes me forever!!! #to update hahah #cheng hua shi si nian

[hljournal]

Today’s author is suspendrs / @suspendrs​ ! Don’t forget to give the fics kudos and leave a comment! 

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“What is this, an interview?” Louis smirks, stealing Harry’s drink and taking a sip. “Wanted a change of scenery. Dunno.”

Harry hums and takes his drink back, narrowing his eyes playfully at Louis as he takes a long sip. “Can I buy you a drink, or would you rather keep sharing mine?”

“You most certainly can buy me a drink,” Louis grins, grabbing the bottle back out of Harry’s hand, “but I’m still going to be stealing yours.”

Or, Harry is jaded and sad and resigned to be forever alone, until Niall sets him up with a friend of his whose broken pieces may just fit pretty well with Harry's.

we’ve got to get away from here (23k)

“It is my understanding that you are the most comprehensive member of this agency in the field of extraterrestrial life, is that right?” the agent asks. He’s trying to sound calm, but Louis can tell he’s shaken as well.

“Um, I guess so,” Louis says, glancing over at the man in the blanket again.

Suddenly, Louis’s blood runs cold. There’s something off about the man, something in his gaze, something Louis can’t put his finger on. It’s terribly unsettling, but excitement bubbles in his gut.

Or, Louis is an FBI agent who likes to think himself a paranormal expert, and Harry is the alien that somehow ended up in his office.

in midnights, in cups of coffee (15k)

“Sorry about the sugar,” Louis says, backing toward his own flat. “Bundle up before you go out.”

Harry smiles so sweetly then that Louis can’t imagine he’ll even need the sugar, if the muffins aren’t sweet enough just because they were made by him. “Thanks,” he says, eyes lingering a little longer on Louis before he lets himself back into Gemma’s apartment, and then Louis is just standing in the hallway by himself.

Or, Louis is overworked and cold, Harry is stressed out, and they might be in love.

come away with me (80k)

Or, Louis has to pick up the pieces of his and his daughter's life after his wife dies, and Harry is a beautiful stranger that just wants to help.

in the night (19k)

Or, the self-indulgent reversed pov and slight continuation of come away with me.

my song has not been sung (2k)

Or, Harry is watching a protest from the sidelines until a boy with a rainbow flag and a pretty smile drags him right into the middle of it.

i’ll be home for christmas (12k)

Or, Louis and Harry can’t decide where to go on Christmas.

autumn leaves (27k)

Or, Harry is an American soldier in France during World War II, and Louis is a French waiter that doesn't mean to fall in love with him.

we’ve got unfinished business (7k)

Or, there’s a ghost in Harry and Louis’s apartment that seemingly just wants them to date.

falling in love with you again (4k)

Or, three times in which Louis fell in love with Harry all over again.

heading for a small disaster (20k)

Or, Harry drives an Uber and Louis’s life is falling apart.

don’t stop to worry (4k)

It was just supposed to be a trim today, to skim off the dead ends of his hair. He had no idea it’d end the way it did.

Or, Harry cuts his hair. It's kind of a big deal.

diamonds, they fade (1k)

The cold does nothing tonight but remind Louis of the boy he left inside, the boy that’s curled up under the blankets by himself right now, the boy that’s probably going to come looking for him soon when he wakes up and Louis isn’t there.

Or, Louis has insomnia.

maps can be poems when you’re on your own (19k)

Or, Harry falls in love with the guy his best friend is fooling around with.

we could be enough (4k)

Or, Harry runs an anonymous crush confession column in the school newspaper and Louis has quite the crush to write in about.

no place to call home (22k)

Or, Louis isn't Peter Pan and Harry isn't Wendy and Neverland is nothing like Harry thought it would be, but it's perfect anyway.

show a little mercy (3k)

Louis hates him so, so much. But then again, he’s never loved someone quite so fiercely.

Or, Louis and Harry try to break up. (Or, a drabble based on Love You Goodbye)

kiss me on the mouth and set me free (17k)

Or, Louis is a gamer and Harry is a beauty guru, and VidCon is a good place to fall in love.

sing me like a choir (17k)

Or, Harry is nervous to do actual makeup on his channel, until his boyfriend Louis helps him out.

please don’t bite (21k)

Or, Harry releases his own line of beauty products, and Louis feels abandoned when Harry’s newfound fame gets the best of him.

underneath the christmas tree (17k)

Louis sends Harry on a scavenger hunt on Christmas Eve.

to be loved and to be in love (50k)

Harry and Louis' first year as a couple, as captured by snippets of home movies.

hope your heart is strong enough (4k)

Prompt: Set in the US, Harry spends Thanksgiving with Louis' family, or vice versa. Chaos ensues.

to watch you fall (16k)

Or, Harry is lonely and Louis is engaged to be married.

give me your hand and i’ll hold it (18k)

Prompt: Harry (9) moves in next to Louis (11). They have little roofs under their bedroom windows and like to sit there and talk. Seven years later, Louis has to leave for college.

you make me strong (14k)

Louis comes home from war with a few more problems than he left with, but Harry can't find it in himself to let him go.

#faaw #fics

[gukyi]

ice prince (post-script) | jjk

summary: you travel the world together as the country’s favorite ice dancing couple and celebrity romance, but you can’t help but wonder what the future has in store for you and jungkook. 

{established relationship!au, ice skating!au}

pairing: jeon jungkook x female reader genre: fluff word count: 1k warnings: none a/n: thank you to @sopseokjin​ for commissioning this piece and donating to the #blacklivesmatter movement!! i had so much fun revisiting the ice prince couple. if you remember me writing the entire 22k fic in 4 days, you qualify for a veterans’ discount.

There is something different about hotel windows. 

They’re always enormous, always spanning the size of the wall, a big Plexiglass screen separating you from the world outside. They always come with two curtains, a semi-transparent one that lets you see into other people’s rooms, and a thick one with the pattern of an old wallpaper or vintage couch. 

And they always make you feel as though you’re both looking out into a sea of lights, into a city slowly beginning to fall asleep, and as if you were trapped inside, the window being your only source of contact. 

It’s no wonder you always find yourself staring out of it, wrapped in a white robe after hopping out of the shower, a long day of competing and skating behind you. Normally, you’d soak your feet in the bathtub as well, letting the water wash away of the soreness, but you feel quite light tonight. 

You gaze out into the city, looking over the roofs of buildings, over the air vents and grey cement that covers all of the skyscrapers that surround you. The yellow glows in the top-floor windows of the buildings are your stars tonight, lighting up an otherwise empty navy blue sky. It’s such a shame that there isn’t a cloud in the sky, and yet you cannot see a single star. Your window doesn’t even face the moon. 

“A penny for your thoughts?”

You look up to see Jungkook standing behind you in the reflection of the glass, soft brown hair tousled and messy, like he just got out of the shower and let it dry as is. He’s wearing an old shirt from your home rink and some shorts. Comfort clothes. 

“Just looking out the window,” you tell him, letting him come over and watching your reflection as he wraps his arms around you, swaying softly. 

“It’s pretty,” Jungkook meets your eyes in the window. 

“Is it weird that, no matter what city we go to, I always feel the same when I look out the window?”

Jungkook pauses for a moment, then says, “No. I feel it, too.”

Does he? 

Does he feel the way that even if the world changes you feel as though your place in it has remained stagnant? Feel like you’re trapped repeating the same few days over and over and over again? Ice skating is perhaps one of your truest passions in life, something that you seldom dread doing despite all of the injuries over the years. But it is as though you do not exist without your skates. That your sense of belonging is defined by being on the rink rather than off of it. 

You wouldn’t know who you are without ice skating. It’s brought you so much joy, so much love. It carried you to Jungkook. 

“I shouldn’t be complaining.” you say with a shake of your head, pulling yourself out of his grasp and settling down on the side of the bed. The sheets are tucked into the bed frame so tightly you’re half convinced that they might rip if you pull them any further. “We get to go to so many nice places and stay in fancy hotel rooms and skate for a living.”

“That doesn’t mean you can’t find negatives in what we do,” Jungkook says with his eyebrows turned down as he joins you on the bed. “You can be grateful and critical of things at the same time.”

“I just feel like…” you sigh, unable to find the right words. You aren’t by any means discontented with your life, with what you get to do. Every morning you wake up and look forward to what the day has to offer, look forward to tugging on your skates and getting onto the ice, look forward to seeing Namjoon and Hoseok and Taehyung and, especially Jungkook. “Like we’ll be stuck doing this forever.”

“You know that’s not true,” Jungkook tells you, reaching out to take your hand in his own. He strokes the back of it with his thumb, calloused fingers pressing against your skin. “We can dp whatever we want with our lives.”

“I don’t really know what I want,” you admit. You’ve always been rather indecisive. It is one of your greatest flaws. 

“You don’t have to know,” Jungkook assures you. He has always been so driven, so focused. He looks to the future fondly, rather than in fear. His heart guides him through each and every day, and even if he makes a mistake he knows it will never steer him in the wrong direction. “You just have to see where life takes you.”

You turn to him, watch his eyes grow bigger as they stare into yours. “Where do you want life to take you? When this is all over, what do you want to do?” When younger skaters far more talented than you will usurp you, will achieve far more complex jumps and challenging lifts, effectively sending you on a slow decline out of the top leagues. When the spotlight will no longer shine on you, lighting up your path on the ice, when no more medals will hang around your neck and no more trophies will be placed into your hands. 

“I’m not sure,” Jungkook says. “I’ve always wanted to learn piano.”

“You can do that now,” you remind him. 

“Not with our schedules, I can’t,” he says. 

“There’s a piano in the lobby,” you remember. It’s an upright, nothing too fancy, but no staff seems to play it and barely anybody spares it a second glance. “You can try.”

“Maybe some other time,” Jungkook says with a laugh, letting you rest your head on his shoulder. You’re still facing the window, but it’s different when you’re sitting down, further away from it. Like you’re watching a late-night movie. Like you’re not a part of the scene at all. “I’d also coach, maybe. Like Namjoon and Hoseok, I think that’d be fun.”

Ice skating will never leave him.

“You think we’ll still be together after all of this?” You ask. It’s a weird, hopeful sort of ask. Like you hope he says yes even if the odds are against it. There’s a part of you that fears, that has always feared, that ice skating was your only link, the only thing keeping you connected. You would not have known Jungkook without skating, and you know him now as someone who is just like you. But what will happen when all of that ends?

You feel the way Jungkook sits up straighter, feel how he stiffens, making you look up at him. It’s an honest, candid question. What does the future hold for the two of you? Is there even one to begin with?

“What do you mean?” He asks. “Of course I do.” A pause. “Do you… not?”

“No!” You tell him. There is nothing you fear more than being away from him, than losing the last part of your life that preserves what little personality you have left. “I want to be with you for the rest of my life. I just—I wasn’t sure.”

Jungkook reaches his other arm out, both of your hands wrapped up in his own, and he squeezes tightly, making you look at him. He’s got that steely, certain look to him, the same determination you see right before a competition performance. 

“I don’t know what goes on in that head of yours,” he begins, “but you have nothing to worry about. Not about ice skating, or competitions, or our future, or me. Because I love you, and I’m proud of you, and I know that whatever you end up doing will be beautiful and meaningful to all of the people whose lives you have touched. And I will always stand by your side, even when we stop skating, even when we are cranky coaches, and even when we are old and lazy.”

The words are music to your ears. A soft smile draws itself on your face, and he lifts a hand up to press it under your chin, leaning in to place a soft kiss on your lips. It’s incredible, what he makes you feel. 

“I’ll marry you, one day,” he promises. “And we can live wherever you want. We can have cats and dogs and plants and, maybe one day, we can have kids too.” 

“If we do have kids, I hope they don’t inherit your ego,” you tease, making him laugh. 

“No,” Jungkook says, shaking his head. “They’ll inherit my devilish good looks, instead.” You giggle, and Jungkook shuts you up with another kiss, taking away all of the breath in your lungs, making your skin tingle. “I love you, did you know that?”

You grin. You did, but you love hearing the words anyway. “I love you, too.”

↳ links are broken, but don’t forget i’m still taking commissions!

#jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #bts fluff #bts angst #bts scenario #jungkook scenario #bts imagine #jungkook imagine #bts au #jungkook au #w: ice prince

[coepiteamare]

catch up tag games

i love tag games, but i haven’t been around, so things have piled up. in a frantic attempt to do everything AND not spam the dash, i’ve (once again) compiled. 

tagging (if you haven’t done it and if you want to): everyone tagged below + @monvante @cutechim @augustbutwinter @propinqxity @hansolmates @zibermuda

10 questions

Tagged by @triviafics

rules: answer 10 questions and tag 10 people you want to get to know better!

relationship status: single. painfully single 

favorite color: pink and blue!

three favorite foods: tacos, creme brulee, honey lavender ice cream

song stuck in my head: levitating by dua lipa (yes i’m late to the party)

last song I listened to: it’s okay if you forget me by astrid s

last thing I googled: ...barbie movie with the weasel

time: 8:46pm

dream trip: visiting all my friends (irl and online), south korea at one point

anything I really want: for my loved ones to be okay. to be happy. 

WIP FOLDER TAG

tagged by: @bratkook @joonscore @triviafics @dinamitae @underthejoon @jinpanman​

rules: post the names of all the files in your wip folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. then let people send asks with the title that most intrigues/interests them and you’ll post a little snippet of it or tell them something about it!

1) favourite crime - jk x oc

2) dreamwalkers - jk x dreamwalker!oc

3) maybe the sea calls you (the way you call me) - jk x mermaid!oc

4) the day the world stood still - taehyung x oc

5) the dictionary of lovers - jk x oc

6) untitled, (things you didn’t say at all) - namjoon x acrobat!oc

7) welcome to wonderland (we’re all mad here) - yoongi & jungkook x alice!oc

8) turn back (look how far we’ve come) - jk x oc

the “butter” song challenge!

tagged by @triviafics @opaljm

choose five songs that spell out the word BUTTER and link them, then tag 5 mutuals or the last 5 people in your notifications.

B - brutal by olivia rodrigo

U - urs by niki

T - true crime by epik high

T - the same by ashe

E - ex by kiana lede

R - rain by bts

Zodiac This or That ✨

clean ones here!

tagged by: @triviafics

Sagittarius (sun): Teal or Purple. Topaz or Turquoise. Dandelion or Daffodil. Ginseng or Cilantro. Horse or Stag/Buck. Plane ride or Road trip. Learn Hindi or Learn Japanese. Ginger or Wasabi. Climbing or Snowboarding. Teleportation or Super Speed. Carnival or Circus. Sake or Tequila. Duffel Bags or Suitcases. Time Manipulation or Basic Precognition. Tambourine or Triangle. Backpacking or Whitewater rafting. Aquarius or Libra.

Virgo (moon): Navy Blue or Olive Green. Peridot or Sardonyx. Peony or Sweet Pea. Hops or Rosemary. Chess or Checkers. Carrot Cake or Fig Bar/Cakes/Cookies. Knitting or Crocheting. Grammar Checking/Quality Assurance or Critiquing a piece of work. Golf or Tennis. Buttercups or Morning Glory. Herbs magic or Earth and plant bending. Mice or Bees. Cabernet Frank or Micro-brews. Enchanted Garden or Magic that can perfect skills. Bunnies or Deer. Cancer or Scorpio.

Leo (rising): Gold or Orange. Cat’s Eye or Ruby. Sunflower or Marigold. Aniseed or Elderflower. Oranges or Peaches. Dance or Theater. Cosplay or Creating Fan Fiction. Sunbathing or Hot Stone Massage. Light Magic or Magical Statues/Monuments. Saxophone or Trumpet. Chardonnay or Gin. Super Strength or a Power like Occlumency. Lions or Tigers. Being a Queen/King or Having Immortality. Being the hero or Being the headliner. Tickle or Pillowfight. Libra or Gemini.

This or That

tagged by: @triviafics (lol i love you isi)

love at first sight or slowly growing fond of someone? love letters or mixtapes? hand kisses or kisses on the cheeks? understanding each other without words or finishing each others sentences? gazing into each other’s eyes or looking away blushing? longing to be with someone again or spending every second together? laughing together or crying together? someone run their fingers through your hair or gently playing with your hand? surprise kisses or long tight hugs?

check-in tag!

tagged by: @yeojaa

1. why did you choose your url?

coepi te amare means i have begun to love you in latin. i first heard it from a rixythewraith ff with double b and i’ve used it in a lot of things ever since. 

2. any sideblogs? if you have them name them and why you have them

estbellumsacrum - my personal. there’s just a lot of art and things that are too sad to be here. 

3. how long have you’ve been on tumblr?

uhm i had my first tumblr in 2014? in 10th grade. but this one, i made in January 2020. 

4. do you have a queue tag?

yup! exqueue you

5. why did you start your blog in the first place?

i started writing fanfics in highschool, but stopped. i wanted a way to keep myself writing and accountable and motivated, so i started this!

6. why did you choose your icon?

because i love jungkook. hehe

7. why did you choose your header?

because i love him. but also, it looks kind of whimsical and magical. 

8. what’s your post with the most notes?

uhm probably “you have (1) new voicemail”

9. how many mutuals do you have?

i have no idea tbh

10. how many followers do you have?

300 something!

11. how many people do you follow?

233

12. have you ever made a shitpost?

uhm not on here, but yes. yes i have

13. how often do you use tumblr each day?

uhhh i used to be on it consistently. now a days, maybe once or twice a day?

14. did you have a fight/argument with another blog once? who won?

not to my knowledge!

15. how do you feel about “you need to reblog this” posts?

i feel a lot. i’m not just going to reblog things for the sake of reblogging, especially when i’m not educated on the topic and could be spreading false information. when i think it’s important, i’m going to do my research and educate myself. i do understand the importance of signal boosting, so i can understand where the “you NEED to reblog” part comes from, but at the end of the day, social media is also (especially tumblr) a form of escape. let people have whatever blogs they want, as long as they’re not hurting or harming anyone. 

16. do you like tag games?

yuh 

17. do you like ask games?

yes yes yes

18. which of your mutuals do you think is tumblr famous?

uhhhh tbh, everyone? all of my mutuals are really talented, and i think all of them deserve the world. but uhm...i asked my friend who doesn’t have a writing blog on tumblr and she knows @underthejoon and @bratkook

19. do i have a crush on a mutual?

don’t we all? (but in all honesty, she inspired “love letters i cannot send”)

#tag games with violet #violet thoughts on the horizon

[rena-rain]

UPDATED Reverse Crush Origins!

There were a couple problems with how I posted this originally, so after some character analysis I changed some stuff and I like it better now. I hope you guys do too!.

-----

“So, you’re friends with Chloe, huh?” The boy sitting next to him gave Adrien a bored, disapproving look. He was taken aback; was being Chloe’s friend a bad thing around here? He’d always assumed she must be popular at school. He looked around to see her and her friend Sabrina sticking a wad of chewing gum onto the seat across the aisle from his.

He stood up. “Hey! What’s that all about?” Adrien hated getting on her bad side, but this just seemed…gross.

“The brats that sat here yesterday need a little attitude adjustment. I’m just commanding a little bit of respect, that’s all.”

“Respect? Are you kidding me?” The demand came from a high, feminine voice behind Adrien. He turned and instinctively sank back into his seat. Two girls stood fuming in the doorway. The one with red and brown hair sent a murderous glare in Chloe’s direction, and her friend, an Asian girl with iridescent blue eyes and pigtails the color of midnight, stalked forward. “You know what, Chloe? Your attitude is the one that needs adjusting. I’m not putting up with your bullying anymore, whether it’s at me or Ivan or anybody else around here!”

“Ugh.” Chloe leaned dramatically toward Adrien. “You see, Adrikins, what I have to put up with in this place?”

Adrien couldn’t believe his ears.

The girl crossed her arms defiantly. “Don't you dare try to play the victim here. You're not going to scare me anymore, Chloe, so next time you try to pick on anyone in this school again - Ivan or Juleka or Mylene or anybody else - remember that from now on, you'll have to go through me first."

For a second Adrien swore he saw fear in Chloe's eyes. Then that nasty sneer was back. "Oh, please, who do you think you are, Duapin-Cheng? Nobody can grow a spine overnight, least of all you."

"You know what I think?” The girl took her friend by the hand and they parked themselves at the desk behind him. “Your gum, your seat. I’m taking my desk back.”

“WHAT? You can’t do that!”

“Actually, we can,” The other girl said. “After all, all that is necessary for the triumph of evil – ”

“ – is that good people do nothing.” They fist-bumped and the rest of the class laughed and cheered. Chloe sat down on the right side of the abandoned desk, leaving Sabrina to scoot as far away from the gum as she could.

Adrien blinked in wide-eyed amazement. He wasn't sure what exactly just happened, but he'd never seen anyone stand up for themself like that. Stand up for other people like that. This school was blessed with its own guardian angel. He would gladly go blind just to see her on a righteous warpath.

“Whoa,” Adrien’s desk mate said. “I’ve never seen Marinette shut her down like that.”

Marinette. That was her name. It made electricity arc through his fingertips and his heart pound. “She’s amazing,” he mused.

“You cannot be friends with both Chloe and Marinette, dude. They’re like, mortal enemies.”

Adrien sagged. “It’s just… Chloe’s the only friend I’ve ever had. I’ve known her since we were little kids. She’s abrasive, but…” He glanced at the guy, who gave him a single raised eyebrow. He sighed. “I had no idea she was this awful with other people.”

Several beats of silence passed where Adrien just stared forlornly at the wood in front of him. The next words he heard surprised him.

“I’m Nino, and it’s time for you to make some new friends, dude.” Nino offered Adrien a hand. Smiling, he shook it.

-

“Leave it to the professionals, you already failed once.”

Marinette’s breath hitched. She turned around to look at Stoneheart still holding Mylene in his fist. “He’s right, you know. If I’d captured his akuma in the first place, none of this would’ve happened! I knew I wasn’t the right person for this job.”

“No.” Marinette looked up at Chat Noir. “He’s wrong, because without you, she’d no longer be here. And without us, none of these people stand a chance. We’ll prove that to them.”

She didn't know what to say. "I - "

He placed two gentle hands on her shoulders and bored into her with his bright green cat eyes. “I know how you feel, Ladybug. I'm scared of messing up too - I wasted my power yesterday and nearly blew the fight. But you and I are a team and I know we can do this together. Trust me, okay?”

Mari – Ladybug felt her face heat up. Chat Noir’s gaze was so sharp but so soft at the same time, like he could see into her soul without hurting her at all. She finally understood what the poets meant by 'the eyes are the windows to the soul;' Chat's exposed, gentle sincerity could have drowned her. She felt his support and his confidence flow into her body, making her feel like she could take on the entire world. When she spoke her voice cracked. “Oka – okay.”

She would have completely zoned out in his adorable jade eyes if it weren’t for Stoneheart’s grumbling roar from the Eiffel Tower.

Ladybug felt all gooey inside when Mylene gave Ivan a huge hug. “Aw, they’re so made for each other.”

“And they’re together now. All thanks to you, LB.” Chat Noir smiled that cute, playful little smile of his, and Ladybug kind of wanted to kiss it off his face. The thought surprised her and sent her heart thumping. She squeaked a little when he gently shoulder-bumped her. "That was an awesome speech. You've made everyone in Paris feel safe again after getting attacked by a freaking supervillain. I told you you could do it."

At his praise, Ladybug blushed so hard she felt sure her face now matched her suit. She was saved by Chat Noir's Miraculous beeping.

“Whoops, looks like we gotta split, see you next time, kitty!” She didn’t wait for his reaction to her word vomit before she swung away from him and over the rooftops. If this new fluttery feeling in her stomach was a crush it was going to be an unbearable one. She didn’t even know who Chat Noir was!

Marinette wished she could call Alya about this.

-

Adrien walked into class the next day. He paused at his seat, about to say hi to Marinette. She wasn’t looking at him, and he chickened out and sat down without a word. Nino looked between them and nudged him with his elbow.

“You should go talk to her.”

Adrien blushed. “What?”

Nino lowered his voice. “Marinette. If you like her, you should go for it.”

“But what do I say?”

“Just be yourself, man. She’s super easy to talk to, literally everyone likes her.”

Everyone? He glanced back behind him, where Marinette and Alya were laughing over something on her phone. She held herself with such genuine ease it made him jealous; she probably didn’t have to pretend a day in her life. Remembering the way she’d smirked at Chloe from behind that same desk made his heart flutter and he turned away before she could catch him staring.

Adrien was used to being pushed around by Chloe. Like with his father and tutors and photographers, he just learned to bite his tongue and ride it out. But yesterday, watching Marinette put her foot down and tell her no, you will not treat me or my friends like this - it was like getting struck by lightning.

Marinette probably had tons of friends already. But…it was worth a try.

By the time school ended it was raining outside. Marinette was in the doorway, looking dismayed, when he approached her. “Hey. Marinette, right?”

She raised her chin and side-eyed him, one eyebrow quirking upward. “Aren’t you Chloe’s boyfriend?”

The question actually made him choke. His cheeks burned. “Wha – no, no, god no, she’s just a friend.”

“Why are you friends with her? You don’t seem like a bad guy.”

“She’s…” Adrien got caught up in Marinette’s skeptical expression. She looked guarded. He wondered how long Chloe had been picking on her that his mere association was a major strike against him. “We grew up together. I’ve never been to school before. I’ve hardly been around kids my own age, so it was be friends with Chloe or be alone.”

He sighed and opened his umbrella, gesturing for her to walk with him. Sharing the meager shelter while they walked down the steps meant he could feel the warmth from her body right next to his. “So you’ve never had any other friends?” she asked.

“Not really.”

They stopped when they reached his car. She faced him, and that put her captivating eyes about a foot away from him. Adrien resigned himself to having permanently red cheeks from here on out.

“I think you need better friends. Adrien, right?”

“Right.”

She held out her hand between them. “Well, then. It’s very nice to meet you, Adrien.”

He took her hand and, on an out-of-nowhere impulse, kissed it. “Lovely to meet you as well, Marinette.”

Marinette giggled at the gesture.

Flustered, he asked, “Do you need a ride home?”

“Don’t worry about it; I live at the bakery next door. It’s not even a block away.”

He hesitated. “Well, if you’re sure. Here.” He handed his umbrella to her. “It’s still not fun to walk in the rain. You can borrow it if you’d like.”

Marinette graced him with the most beautiful smile he’d ever seen. “Thanks, Adrien. I promise I’ll give it back to you tomorrow.”

“Sounds good. Um, see you tomorrow?”

“See you tomorrow.” She turned away and Adrien leapt into the car before he got soaked. The Gorilla blessedly ignored whatever just happened, but Plagg decided to stick his head out of Adrien’s shirt to smirk coyly at him. He shoved the kwami back into his hiding place.

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