#I'm still waiting on some others too.... I think I have exceeded the limit of the cute devil bag

[carolmaclaine]

imagine being obsessed with some guy honestly. embarrassing

but please look at the shops of the lovely folk I got this stuff from ❤

x x x x x x x x x

[littlebitsmile]

in flames [C.L.] | Chapter III

Welcome back! This took me a bit longer than usual, but it's still Sunday, so I'm glad you decided to join me (: Hope you all had a nice first week of 2024 - only 55 more days until we see our munchkins driving in circles again - hope this makes the wait a bit shorter.

As always, have fun (:

story: in flames driver: Charles Leclerc [C.L.] trope: #haterstolovers summary: Always working three times as hard as everyone else, Emma does not intend to blow her chance of driving among the best of the best in her very first season in Formula 1. Concentrating on first and foremost getting ahead of her brother, she does not even notice that there are some people even in her own team who think she does not deserve this spot and would rather see her fail. And one driver in particular seems to have a need of always reminding her of that.

────ʚ C H A P T E R III ɞ────

Music booms from the headphones in my ear, my feet float over the treadmill, drops of sweat run down the sides of my face. Next to me, all I can hear is Max's heavy breathing and the occasional quiet "f*ck" as another intensive interval approaches. My calves gave up the ghost ten minutes ago and have been cramping ever since, but my pride won't let me stop.

I actually wanted to squeeze in an extra training session this morning before Max woke up and wanted to hang out and do some off-season stuff, but unfortunately, he was already at the coffee machine when I decided to roll out of bed. He then followed me into the fitness room of his apartment without any comment.

He has been kind enough to let me stay with him, Kelly, and Penelope for a few years now so that I can avoid living with our parents and even worse, letting them decide what happens next with my accommodation situation. As the eldest son, he has probably had his experiences and learned his lessons, always being the one to take the blows, and although he always pretends to give me a hard time, I'm sure that deep down he doesn't want me to go through the same hell he did. The fact that I can never come close to his golden boy in our father's eyes anyway is a different story.

I breathe heavily but try to concentrate on the view. Monaco's harbor landscape is one of the most beautiful I have ever experienced. A little too much lifestyle of the rich and famous for my liking, but Max loved it here right from the start, when we first visited a few years ago. Maybe because he can live right next to the racetrack, waking up every morning and sipping his breakfast coffee with his brain already imagining those cars on the streets right in front of him.

"You're quiet," he presses out between his lips at some point. I don't look at him but concentrate on a small yacht that is about to leave the outer jetties. He gets a kick out of seeing me suffer, I’m sure of it. If I don’t let myself get distracted by the pain in my legs, I can do a few more minutes on this torture device.

"I'm dying," I reply, trying not to fall down at the same time. My diaphragm starts to painfully remind me that I'm not my 26-year-old racing brother, who has been doing this for years and years, never losing sight of his goals, exceeding his limits.

He reduces the speed on his treadmill and starts to jog slowly before continuing: "When are you flying to England? For simulator runs and so on?"

I'm still running at the same pace as before. I try to show February 15 with my hands, holding all of my ten fingers up, then five and the peace sign as a two, but I'm not sure if he immediately understands what I mean.

In the time between the end of the season and the first pre-season tests, the world stands still in my head. I enjoy visiting friends for once and not feeling bad when I see photos in our group chats of everyone getting together and me missing. Max, on the other hand, never leaves his zone - his racing set up in his study glows for hours every day. When he's not training, eating, or sleeping, he lives and breathes motorsport, whether it’s on or off track. Maybe that's why he's such an exceptional talent. Or maybe he is just stupid, for not living his life during his prime time and will fall into a pit of self-despair when he’s 40.

"Excited?" he interrupts my thoughts. I can’t remember what we were talking about, and he notices. “For the UK, I mean? Rain and cloudy weather?”

I nod. My lungs are burning, and I don't know who exactly I'm trying to prove something to. I keep running, my thighs are starting to burn like hell. A few of my fingertips go numb, and my head starts to feel dizzy. There are a few black dots here and there, but it isn’t the first time something like this happens and it won’t be the last.

"What number are you going to start with?" Max asks. I shrug my shoulders, not wanting to give too much away about whether I'll keep my number from Formula 2 or change it. Mostly because I haven’t thought about it and I would love to have a number with a deeper meaning.

"You could take 69."

When he says this, I almost stumble on the treadmill. I hold on left and right and hop onto the side edges as the mechanical noise belt continues to run beneath me. Although everything inside me hurts like hell after the last hour and a half of running, I must laugh out loud. Max grins sheepishly at me. Sometimes I am not sure who of us is the older sibling.

"I think that would be more your thing, don't you?" Out of breath, I put my hands on my hips and lean my upper body against the treadmill display. I try to calm my heartbeat, breathing in through my nose and out through my mouth.

"I've already got the 1; that's enough for me..."

“You won’t have it forever, though," I interrupt him before he falls into another monologue of self-congratulation. I wiggle my eyebrows and grin mischievously at him. Then I stick my tongue out at him, and he rolls his eyes before hitting me on the shoulder with his fist.

"The only one I'm afraid of is you,” he admits openly. I look at him in disbelief. Where has this recognition suddenly come from? I almost choke on the sip of water I’m taking. “But you're in the wrong car anyway, so at least I don't have much to fear this season.”

"I don't need your false assumptions, Max. We've never lied to each other." I look into the distance, back to the harbor. I wonder what my life would be like if I wasn't the person I am.

"I'm not lying, I promise. I'm more afraid that this team will take you down with them."

"Aston Martin won't drag me into the abyss. They're giving me a fair chance."

"You would have had a fair chance with me and Red Bull."

"Fair, Max? Really? As number two? How well did that turn out with the last team partners? Lewis and Nico? Lewis and Valtteri? You and pretty much everyone who came after Sebastian? The only off-track friends who were in the same team and still get on well are Carlos and Lando. I don't want that for us." Now I turn to him. A furrow forms between his eyebrows, and he looks down at the ground. He knows I am right, and I think that causes him greater pain than what I just said about us not being able to be proper teammates.

"If you don't perform at Aston Martin, if you even get the chance to show what you are capable of in that sh*tbox of a car, then no other team will take you. There is only one chance to be part of this grid, and I just can’t believe you would rather not drive at all than have me as your team partner?" He is frustrated, I can feel it in his voice. So I try to soften my voice and understand him from his point of view.

"Max, I love you; I really do. You're the coolest brother in the world, and I'm not saying that because I get to live in your cool penthouse in the middle of Monaco.” There is a chuckle, and I know he wants to reassure me that he loves to have me here with him. But before he can speak another word, I continue. “But I've been compared to you my whole life and I will continue to be. This hasn’t been easy, for any of us. But for a change, I can decide for myself whether to confront it or if I just leave my phone off and not read the news, because no one in my own team will compare me to you." The conversation has taken on a serious tone, but I know he understands what I mean.

"I get it. I still would have liked you to be the wing woman. Pretty sure we’d be great. With you keeping all those madmen away from me." He winks. Then he looks straight ahead towards the panoramic window. It's quiet between us for a while.

I think back to his first victory with Red Bull. How he threw himself into the arms of his team afterward, so proud and so full of emotion, as if someone was finally accepting him for who he is, no ifs, ands, or buts. He doesn't talk much about his relationship with Christian Horner, but I'm 90% sure that Christian is in many ways the father figure for Max that our father could never be for him. How he has grown with this team and gone from a really misunderstood driver to a three-time world champion. He wouldn't leave Red Bull until they cut him out from inside with a digger and chainsaw and shipped him to the other side of the world. He lives, breathes, and burns for this sport and for the people in his immediate surroundings, a quality that I greatly admire in him and that not everyone is able to appreciate.

"If you could be someone else or do something else, what would it be?" The question catches him off guard. He is confused for a moment, then looks thoughtful and shakes his head.

"I don't think I want to be – can be - anywhere else. This is where I belong."

I believe him. But suddenly I'm not so sure if my answer would be the same.

As the plane lands in London, I grab my backpack, put on my cap, and hide my face a little better. I'm almost certain that some paparazzi is waiting for me in the arrivals hall because I seem to be the only one from the F1 paddock not traveling by a private jet. I wonder why.

I quickly get through security and baggage claim, so it feels like no more than 30 minutes before I step through the airport doors and out into rainy UK weather. To my right, an elderly gentleman with a sign saying "Emma V." walks towards me and takes my luggage. I thank him, get in the car, and then we make our way to the Aston Martin headquarters. I fall asleep unplanned and only wake up when we arrive.

I am overwhelmed by the polished floors, the glass structures of the building, how everything looks as if this is not the headquarters of a Formula 1 team but of Iron Man and the Avengers.

Mike Krack, the team principal, comes to meet me, shakes my hand, and welcomes me to the hallowed halls. I'm then given a tour, starting with the departments I'm least interested in, such as budget and logistics. I know these people are as important as anyone else, but I am a driver, so the technical departments will be my home base.

"But you're certainly not here to look at the view. You want to go to the simulators, right?" Mike states correctly at some point. I nod vigorously. "Then that's our next destination."

And no matter what I was expecting, it wasn’t that. As I step into a room with a screen as big as the panoramic view back at Max’s apartment, I immediately want to leap into the seat in front of it. I wait for a nod of approval from Mike before I hop into it and feel the leather beneath my hands and notice the smell of something new. I shriek. If this is a dream, I never want to wake up. And before someone can stop me, I’m already turning the machine on and getting ready to drive my first laps in the simulator.

────ʚ [Masterlist] [Chapter II] [Chapter IV] ɞ────

[multeasers]

✧. get to know the author !

got kinda long so under the cut lol

Tagged by : @sentinaels , thank you :D !

Tagging : @goatedespada @coffinseas @sovereignreigned @battleguqin @hanabiira @starrkc and anyone else who would like to do this, feel free to say i tagged ya !

name : zag :0 pronouns : he / they ! preference of communication : i prefer tumblr ( though it doesn't prefer me ) so i'll give out my discord if needed ! most active muse( s ) : a-qing ; she was the muse i started with for a reason ! and though i do need to work with all of the others more in actual practice, i'd say wrh and toji are close seconds when it comes to ideas on how to use them / using them elsewhere experience / how many years : i started around 9 yrs old so,, almost 14 yrs accordin to the calculator :v best experience : idk how familiar anyone is with chatzy here, but there was a set number of people that could be in a room at any given point, and the specific room i was in was set to like . 30 i think . anyhow, one day we'd exceeded the 30 limit but several of us were trying to get outside friends in to do some massive thing i can't recall . so everyone involved already in the room is trying to leave and hit their back arrow ( because we could get more people in and still come back in ourselves, we'd figured out several days before ) while also waiting a few seconds so these people can get in, and i think just the chaos and the fun we were having in those moments of trying to get everyone we wanted in the room was one of the best and most fun moments i've ever had while in an rp space rp pet peeves : probably when there's not the same show of effort ? it isn't an issue here, but a big issue on chatzy was when folks would do one liners when i had whole ass paragraphs ( especially after they would AGREE to longer plots ) . feel free to not match my length, but that sorta thing is just pushing it . shit drove me bonkers . also criticism that isn't constructive,,, if you feel i could be doin better then i'd love to hear, but i hate crit for the sake of crit . again, more of a chatzy issue ( and mfs were BOLD there when it came to this ) but the incidents of this still bother me to this day plots or memes : plots by and large but i get nervous even just thinkin of dming ppl and i know others feel the same, so i'm trying to get used to memes too !! receiving and sending them i mean are you like your muse( s ) : nothing is like, 1 : 1 but i do think i share some similarities between them . there's at least one thing i share with them all in some way :p

[sly-merlin]

KILLING ME- 14

pairing : law student!reader + yuta

genre : (fluff)  angst , mafia au/ arranged marriage au.

warnings of this chapter : cursing, mention of drugs, character death.

words : ~4k

summary :

“life’s never fair y/n. realise it as soon as you can . it is the only secret for living a regretless life.”                                  

or            

“ curiousity got the cat hitched”

K.M masterlist

K.M 13

TAGLIST : @kpop-choco @moon-yuta @kawaiiayasan @btm-taeyong @exfolitae @lanadreamie @cheersskznct ​​ @hyuckiesgf ​​ @theworld-accordingtocasey ​​@simplybree

@yiyi4657 @sorrywonwoo @sillywinnergladiator   @minejungwoo @leesalts @mal-nakamoto23 @ro2424 @itlittlefangirl @nctzens-world @bl–ankhaeji @jeaneteflo @nuoyii @bralessmermaid @minhoseyeliner @tyongpoetry @swimmingkpopblog @jkjkseo @orphicmoon @floralescapes

A/N : this chapter marks the celebration of this blog surpassing 600 followers! thank you so much for all the support! also for minor readers, the sfw versions of nsfw chapters are given at the end of the masterlist so check those properly before reading.

•••••••••••••

y/n! Are you sleeping?”

Registering his words, you replied in a groggy voice,“What the fuck do you want?”

“Your phone. I left mine in the medical room. I need to call Mark right now.” with some authority, he spoke.

Whining loudly, you fell back on the bed. It was only due but flailing your arms and legs like a kid in a toy store, you let out a screech full of annoyance, cursing your fate.

Were you really going to babysit him now?

"Have you suddenly lost your hearing? Stop with this sick attitude and open the door."

A puff of air left your nose, your chest moved rhythmically with your stomach and you relaxed your arms beneath your head, eyes fixed at the fan above and ears ringing with his voice. He kept calling you and after a number of shouts, you started humming to distract yourself, afraid that you'd end up helping him otherwise. That was something, naturally, you were not interested in. Last time he had ignored your voice and now nature had presented you with an opportunity to return the favour. Just with a bit less flavour.

"Are you dead?"

"Hmmm. To you, yes I am." Mumbling, you yawned and pushed yourself up to reach your side table and fishing out your earphones from the bottom drawer, you untangled them and fixed them comfortably in your ear, hiding yourself underneath the sheets.

Sonata no.14 instantly transported you away from the noise and the stress that was your unwanted husband, yuta. The smile playing on your lips widened as you realised that you were his only mode of communication at the moment.

But You were going for a nap. Until then, he could wait. And thrash. And cry. Or die.

Rubbing the sleep out of your eyes, you rotated the handle of the door to walk outside but your little trip was interrupted when your body collided straight into a wall. No. The obstruction was too soft for a wall.

Opening your eyes properly, you saw yuta standing stiff. Surprised at the sudden appearance, you immediately stumbled back and in hurry, hit your spine on the wooden door. The glare of his eyes, that always spoke more than you could comprehend, coupled with a clenched jaw, was not a very pleasant sight for sure yet you found it harder to dart your own eyes away from him.

"Your phone" he seethed, breathing deeply.

"Huh?" You croaked out.

He raised his brow and in an instant, the previous scenario played like a short movie in your head. Snapping your head down, you regarded his leg with pity. He obviously noticed it immediately but seemed to ignore it and refrained from saying anything. Good for you, you thought.

"Are you deaf?"

Your furrowed brows met his eyes and with a roll of his own, he picked up his finger to force his demand but you managed to walk back inside your room before he could've done that.

Your back faced him as you contemplated your options while slowly stretching your arm to reach for your phone on the other side of the bed.

should you even be giving him your phone?

You had more trust in Taeyong than the man you shared a roof with so there was no way you were doing that.

Unbeknownst to you, yuta was watching your movements intently and the way you bobbed your head, he knew you were scheming something so he decided to be polite for a moment. Only until you were needed. Or your phone was needed.

Once the phone was in your hand, another thought crossed your mind.

"Wait. Where is the house phone?" Crossing your arms, you asked him slyly, already knowing the answer

"You fucking never got it installed. It's still in its stupid package" he seemed rather impatient.

"And you could've called reception through the door telecom. He would have phoned Mark for you. These rich apartments certainly have more hospitality tha-

"I CAN'T GO AROUND DISTRIBUTING AN UNDERGROUND CRIMINAL'S CONTACT NUMBER TO EVERYONE"

He inhaled and exhaled and you just watched until he opened his eyes again, hand reaching out to you.

"Chill. I've every right to be sceptic especially when you are the one asking for it."

Finding Mark's number on your phone, you called him.

Yuta's hand threaded through his rough hair as he noticed what you were trying to do.

"Hey mark!" Your chirpy voice resounded in the room and yuta was sure this was some different spirit speaking. You sounded too bubbly for the way you were investigating him just a second ago.

"Yes yes. His phone exactly.i don't trust him enough to hand over my phone so that's why I'm calling you myself. Just hurry up if you can or you might have to clean up a dead body in the next few hours."

With that you cut the phone. Without meeting yuta's gaze and resting your hand on the handle, you mumbled,

"He'll be here in an hour."

You were about to close the door when he stopped it with the palm of his hand, alerting you with the force.

"Tell him to get some food too."

And limping, he retired back, to the couches.

Sighing, you messaged mark. Had it been for something else, you'd have ignored but your own stomach had signalled you that it needed some good food so you chose not to fight against your own body.

Now, only the taste of the food could decide how many days you were going to tolerate that barbaric human.

"Are you still going to that stupid internship?" Johnny hesitantly murmured from your desk chair while taking big bites from the plate.

"It's not stupid please! I’m just waiting for them to actually pay attention to my awesome capabilities so they can transfer me to the main branch. This is not bad either but”, you stopped to lick your forefinger and tasting the sauce, continued, “but I really wanna go into the criminal unit. That’s where the actual fun is. As long as i’m being paid decently, i’ll suffer with the stupid research work here.”

“With the tongue as sharp as yours, I think you should be getting ready for a demotion instead” he laughed, showing you his fake bunny teeth in the most annoying and childish way.

“Ha ha ha ha. Some well wisher you are! Thank you so much for looking out for me but I'll be fine. Who knows the gatekeeper’s pay package is more than me. So it’d be a win-win in that case too I guess?” when you did a drum roll with your chopsticks to stress upon your point, he laughed harder.

"So being broke is the new black?" Rolling his eyes, he dragged out, "I swear you kids don't know how this world works."

"And you, grandpa of the century, knows?"

"I'm aware of what I need for my survival and from what I've learnt, you can either take risks or look for job security. In your case, " he fake coughed, "where the proportions of risk taking have already exceeded the acceptable limit, a job security is the best and safest option to choose."

"And that would justify my greed and desire to work for the biggest company of this city."

"Kun. The security you need and the independence you seek would be given by kun. Chois are hmm how to say? Cheap? Yeh cheap. They have no work ethics. "

"Have you worked with them, johnny?"

"No. I'm ju-

"Then was your ex a choi?" You saw his eyes comically and cutely widening at your remark.

"No. My ex wasn't a choi and that's not what I'm saying and you know that."

"Oh. So your ex wasn't a choi. Then a lee? Kim? Im? Oh my god! Look at your cheeks seo!" You dragged out. He shook his head as you kept wiggling your brows at him.

"She was a kim but that doesn't mean I would hate all kims dude. That's baseless and stop ignoring the topic. I want you to apply in Kuns. It's the best option. Do it as soon as you-

"Yeah yeah we'll see about that. First take that bitch back. I can't even nap in his presence. "

"Umm. Yeah. You gotta tolerate him. And besides he's injured. Injured yuta is like a gun without a bullet. He's gonna shout for a day or two and then peace out. He'll be sleeping and reading in his room and you won't even know if he's alive or not."

"Now that's bullshit. What is he going to do here anyway? I hope he can hop himself on one leg because even if the sun rises from the north, I am not going to do a single task for him. He can die hungry , for all I care.”

“Do you think you can endure him for some tasty dinners?”

Clicking your tongue, you quipped, “Do you really think you can buy me with a few homemade meals?”

Day 1

Yes. you were sold. The moment the tasty noodles had melted in your mouth, you knew you had no dignity. And you were indeed ashamed of yourself.

Earlier, Renjun had called you to inform you that he had delivered the food and medicines for yuta and had left your dinner box but he had failed to mention the special and endearing note that was pasted on the glass box. In the curvy letters, it read bitchy piglet and you swore the only person you’d be killing before yuta would be jaehyun. But you were going to use jaehyun to build up your tolerance instead.

When you went out to clean your dishes, he was playing some game on his phone, excitement evident from the way he was laughing every other second. Maybe if he remained occupied, he would not be so insufferable.

Day 3

"Oyii! Oyii!"

No. You were wrong. He was very very much insufferable.

At midnight, his voice echoed, disturbing your sleep. You cursed at the cool atmosphere that had prevented you from using the air con which otherwise would have blocked his annoying screeches. But it seemed like bad luck wanted to change its name to y/n instead. With your name being called like a broken record, it was a fight between you and him that you were not going to lose. Shuffling to your side, you covered your ears with the other pillow and tried to drown out the annoyingly demanding and hoarse voice. There was no way you were giving him the satisfaction of having any power over you. He could cry for all he liked!

“What the fuck do you want at this hour?”

Attempting a glare at him through sleepy lids, you spewed with irritation. Unlike you, he was very much awake, breathing with the sole purpose of making you question your whole existence.

“Pillow” scratching his non-existent beard, he mumbled.

Your nostrils flared and jaw clenched at such inconvenient command.

“You summoned me for a pillow? A pillow that can normally be found on a person’s bed? Can you please rectify your demand or did I just simply hear something wrong?”

The opened curtains and the moonlight that drenched the room was the only source that illuminated his face for you and even with drooping eyes, you could see how serious he was and yet you couldn't hold your tongue back because he simply deserved every shit you bestowed him with.

“Turn the lights on and count the pillows on my bed! And when you are done, get me some pillows from your room.” he simply stated.

“Why should i give you my pillow? I need them!”

“Because I don't use a pillow and I need it asap!”

“Then why do you suddenly need one? To disturb my sleep? Oh that makes sense.” and suddenly, your eyes had synced with your body to side with your fight mode.

“I need them for elevating my leg. The bandage is too tight and it’s not comfortable.”

“Then why don't you walk out of the room and get some cushions for yourself!” you raised your volume.

“Because my leg is in pain and i’m unable to get up? What makes you think I'm dying to see your ugly face at this time of the night. I dont wanna have nightmares of you as well but i can't help it ok!”

“you should have kept them near you. And who are you calling ugly hmm? You poop fac-

“Okay scream for all you want! But get me a pillow when your battery dies down!”

“What the fuck d- are you covering your ears? Wow ways to be generous!”

Stomping your foot, you left the room to get the hardest cushion on the couch.

“Here! Next time call Mark if you want anything. Don’t raise your voice ever again to call me because unlike you, i have work in the morning and hence I need some sleep..”

Just when you were about to leave after shoving the cushion in his hand, he spoke up again,

“This is damn hard! I asked for your pillow specifically and not th- AHH!”

A scream left him as you harshly removed the support , leaving his leg to painfully meet the mattress.

“How about you fix your attitude before fixing your leg?” suggesting, you dropped the cushion on the floor and left.

He didn't call you after that. Nor that you cared. However, the sleep in your eyes somehow vanished. Dancing on your sides didn’t help. Neither did drinking a glass of water. So, with a groan, you listened to your conscience and picked up your extra pillow that was sadly too perfect for your enemy.

Padding to his room, you tried your best to scrutinise and hearing his heavy snores, you placed the pillow right under his thigh and the cushion under his calf. Scoffing at his sleeping figure, you internally groaned to remind yourself that you hadn't done it for him. It was just a debt. For the blanket he had once covered you with. Nothing more and nothing less.

Day 5

You just wanted him out of your hair. He was just being a load on your head. At first, only the work was kicking your ass, then jungwoo was kicking you like a punching bag for an hour straight and adding to your distress was yuta.

"I'm not your maid! Stop piling up the dishes for me. I've had enough mercy on you. From today onwards, get a cleaner for yourself or buy disposable cutlery. I'm not going to clean after you!"

With a roll of his eyes, he had ignored you.

And so did you. Pasting a warning note on the sink tap, you had left for the library with a dying hope that maybe the kitchen would be spotless on your arrival or you'd be dialing some numbers in the evening.

For someone who despised the solemn atmosphere of libraries, you had successfully spent 11 hours in the said hellish room. It was 11 p.m and you wanted to sleep, more than anything but here you were, waiting for yugyeom so he'd just pick you up for a good drinking session that you were dying to have.

Fortunately, you weren't the only one who had missed living these past days. Everyone, for different reasons, was suffering so you felt a little less bad for yourself even though you knew your troubles were far more grave than their academic burdens.

"Wake up shorts" someone whispered in your ear. Squirming on your seat, you whipped your head in your sleepy state and found jungkook caressing your head, goofily smiling at you.

"I thought you wanted to hang out till the next morning" air quoting the last words, he picked up your bag.

"Yeah. Let's go. I'm all ready for a night full of vodkas." You yawned out.

"Definitely. No. You are going home. We can have a small get together me and yuggy are done with our final project." He dragged you out into the parking lot.

" I feel like it's been years since we got drunk together. You are never here anymore!" You whined at him, complaining your heart out.

"I will be. Soon. Then we can celebrate your little choi job as well."

"Oh please. Don't even mention it. If I had penny for every time they rolled their eyes at me, I'd be richer than your parents kook." You huffed out and as his gentle laugh surrounded you, you closed your eyes resting your back against the seat, expecting to be up by the time he'd park.

But the next day, you woke up tangled in the sheets of your bed, unaware of the events of the previous night.

When you had warned yuta about the dirty dishes, you hadn't expected him to fill the corners of the kitchen with disposable containers. It looked like you had missed a whole drama while sleeping in the library. The kitchen was shining except for the new utensils. But as long as you were not babysitting him, you were fine with anything. You didn't want to jinx your relief, however, you were glad you would be able to get some work done. finally.

You had spoken too early for your own good. Just when you sat down to write your paper, passionate and enthusiastic howls of that man pierced through your earphones and once again, you opened the window and hopped outside, in the balcony, ready to drown him out. Sipping on your lemonade, you gaped at the scenery the not so distant traffic provided you with and somehow, your thoughts wandered to the only person these horns reminded you of. Johnny.

What are you doing? Your fingers hovered over the text but once again, you deleted the message, declaring it to be too childish for someone as mature as him. Maybe you were just being silly. Maybe you were not. But who was going to put a stamp on your maybe?

Tears pricked your eyes as the harsh words of your senior thundered in the room. He kept shouting and you had no option than to consume each and every word he directed at you. Even if you were being insulted in front of your twenty other co-workers, staying quiet was the best option, you ascertained. so along with your saliva, you gulped your explanations down your throat.

Howsoever unconscious, you were still in the wrong. There was no excuse as to why you had mailed the wrong bills, apart from the headache that was caused by the person possibly lying on the sofa and watching t.v back home. No matter how much you tried to run away from his existence, he had somehow managed to let himself inside your head.

Glaring at the kid who asked for his turn on the park swing, you pushed yourself a little higher, letting the wind greet your stinging eyes as it hit your face in waves. Your phone buzzed in your pocket and you chose to ignore jungwoo for a day as it was the time, you decided, to let all the lessons that the past few months had taught you sink into your mind, to bleed into your soul so you won’t ever be able to deviate from them. Ever.

Only if that was so easy. You knew blaming others for your problems was no solution but trivialising them by not paying heed wasn't a smart move either.

When you reached home, your frustrations had died down. So when yuta simpered and pointed towards your empty container, telling you how he had already finished your supposed dinner, you simply rolled your eyes at him, robbing him of whatever he wanted to achieve by riling you up. Heating up the water, you were about to open the noodles packet when yeong called you.

You stared at the shattered phone screen in disbelief as the endless tears ran down your cheeks. As you verbalised the words to yourself again, your body met the floor with a thud.

Jungkook. Drugs. No more.

Three words had silenced the screeches in your head and your mind busied itself in rejecting what you had heard for it had to be a lie. But what how were you going to ignore the heart wrenching screams that yeong had let out. How were you going to dismiss the truth.

How were you all going to accept it?

••••••••••••••••

next update: Some day between 5-7 June.

[everyhowlmarksthedead]

❛ THE SHOT ❜

Final chapter of ‘Someone you loved’ with Michael ‘Riz’ Ariza.

Warnings: none.

Word count: about 1.5k

Aurora says: this writing hasn't been edited, you may find some grammar mistakes, I'm sorry about that!

Gif credits: to my wonderful @sonsofeorl ✨

Masterlist. You can subscribe to my broadcast list, to be notified whenever I post a writing!

You are already tucked in your bed, pajamas on, lights off and your body almost asleep in a concrete position, when your phone starts to ring. No way. You're not going to move, not even your eyelashes, so you try to ignore it until it stops to sound. The music disappears at the same time that your room is immersed again in the darkness, with the blinds completely rolled down. Burying your face in the pillow, you grumble with a hoarse sound that is born deep down in your throat, when the call happens again. Palming your nightstand to grab the phone, opening one eye, you read your father's name on the screen. Closing it again, you answer placing the phone over your ear. No hand holding it, just resting on it.

“Wha'?” You mutter with a sleepy tone.

“Need you to come to Vicki's house”.

“And I need to die, but life ain't fair, dad”.

“Riz has been shot”.

Suddenly sitting up, it takes you only one damn second to toss the blankets to the floor and jump out of your bed. With your heart about to have an attack, pumping faster than it can handle, you don't even change your clothes but put on a pair of sneakers. Running to the entrance, you only grab your keys and the black helmet from the coat rack. Wearing it, you continue the fast strides to your motorcycle. Your fingers are shaking, your throat is dry and your mind is totally blank. Turning on the engine, you speed up joining the road, knowing the way to Vicki's house better than the club's one.

You have never been a believer, but you're praying every single prayer you know. As if Bishop had confirmed to you that he is dead or about to, the day you met plays in front of your eyes like the scene of a movie. Exceeding the speed limit without caring about encountering a patrol, you cross the Calexico desert in the middle of the night. Darkness all around, with the moonlight barely illuminating your path, soon you can glimpse a row of houses, with a lot of motorbikes and a van parked there. Throwing yours to the floor after turning off the engine, you jump the stairs coming desperately into the house.

“RIZ? RIZ! DAD!”

You can't stop yelling, trying to find someone when you notice that the house is empty. All the lights are one, but there's no one inside it. Your gaze is blurred because of the bunch of tears you're uttering. Your throat now is filled up with a lot of saliva, feeling the anxiety hitting your body. Going upstairs, you open every door there. Nothing.

“RIZ! ARIZA!”

You're losing your temper, coming back to the living room to continue to the kitchen.

“DAD! DAD, WHERE ARE YOU?”

Almost choking with the tears flooding onto your lips, hiccuping with an incessant surf of pain breaking within your chest, you palm your torso and your thighs looking for your phone. But you don't have it. Remembering to have left it forgotten on your bed. Grabbing the landline and dialing the number, you wait for your father to answer. The tones pass you to the voicemail, after an endless waiting, tossing the device over the counter. You're about to falter, pressing a hand close to your collarbone. That grief feels like if something is breaking inside you into hundreds and hundreds of pieces. Turning around over your own steps, looking everywhere, you try to focus. To think about where else you can go. Your legs move this time to the rear door, straight to the back yard. The silent outside is literally killing you, touring the alley until flooding into the courtyard.

With parted lips and almost shocking, you look at the small light bulbs hanging from the walls and the trees. Frowning confused, you can't remember if that kind of lighting was there last time you came. But you don't even care. There's nothing much to roam to, cleaning your tears with the back of your hand, you turn again with the intention of coming back to the house and call Bishop again. The angst is clotting the blood inside your veins, barely filling your lungs with the fresh air of the desert, trying to figure out where the hell are the crew. Their bikes are there, so they can't be too far.

“Don't hit me, please”.

At that exact moment, your heart stops pumping for two seconds. Riz is in front of you, some steps away. Both hands raised, in case he has to defend himself, and a worried gesture on his face. Your eyes travel all around his anatomy, looking for blood, a wound, anything. But he is okay. He looks like he's fine. Bowing down your head and covering your face with both hands, your loud becomes louder. You don't have to be a genius to know that your father has played a dirty and macabre game on you. The knot within your stomach disappears, but the sorrow is still installed on its mouth. Two arms embrace you slowly, feeling his fingertips sliding on your back until he can finally hold you against his chest.

“Sorry”. He whispers with a broken tone of voice. “It wasn't my idea, but… you have been a week without answering my calls or my texts… Bishop thought it was the only option to make you come”.

You don't utter a single word. You can. You're still immersed into the shock of their lies and the pain they have provoked you. And you are not sure at all about how many time you have been just like that, letting Riz hug you in silence; caressing your back, your hair, your head. Soft and gentle moves that comforts and calms you. Slowly pulling himself away, he holds your hands by intertwining his fingers with yours, guiding you to a hammock. Sitting by your side, he cleans your tears left stuck on your cheeks, and you can't help but cling your arms around his neck again. You have missed him more than anything in your life. These days without knowing anything about him, without seeing him, without hearing his voice, has been the worst time you have been through. His scent is intense, swelling up your lungs by having a deep breath of it with your nose sink on his neck. Feeling like this gesture is bringing you back to life.

Riz kisses your cheeks, your temples, your forehead, all your face. And cupping it onto his hands, with the cold rings pressed against your skin, he places his lips on yours to your surprise. But he doesn't move. He just stays like that for some seconds, after starting to peck them. You're sitting on the hammock like an effigy, trying to find a way to wake up from this dream.

“I always… carry our first... photo together… in a pocket... of the kutte… every time I go... on a run”. He confesses between short kisses, marking every inch of your lips until erasing the sad gesture installed on them. Touching your nose with his, he can finally breathe. “I don't want to live without you. You complete me, your life completes mine. There's nobody else I want to be with for the rest of my life that it isn't you. I want to hear you calling me Rizzy anytime I'm not paying attention to you. I want to wake up with you, clinged to me like a fucking koala. I want to look at you all the damn time and say shit, she chose me over everybody. And kiss you, and hug you, and love you even afterlife. You're my other half, mi vida, mi amor, el único sentido que le encuentro a la existencia”.

You are sobbing against his neck, not capable of replying any word he's saying to you. Not even when you feel who he loosens his grip, looking for something inside a pocket. Pulling himself away some inches, he takes your right hand to put a small golden ring in your finger. Pouting at him, you can see Riz softly smiling.

“I don't want to live without you”. He repeats again, leaning forward to catch your lips with his.

This time, you kiss him back, urging you to sit on his lap to surround your waist with both arms; embracing you with all his strength, believing for a moment that you two could melt into just one body.

“I'm so so—sorry”. You cry against his mouth.

“Fuck, no. It was my fault”. Riz shakes his head, cupping your cheek into his hands. “And it's not like I was let you leave my side. I would follow you till the end of times, mi amor”.

“I love you… I really do”. You mumble resting your forehead against his.

“I love you too… Even if you have fucked me up badly this last week. Maybe I deserved it for being a pendejo”.

Giggling and sniffing, you wrap his back with both arms, resting your head on his chest. Closing your eyes, feeling calmed.

“Don't kill your father, ah?” He says then, licking his bottom lip. You chuckle again.

“I will try, but I can't promise it”.

[mewnia]

I'm just wondering, now that you've played a little of crestoria (I assume from your meme) how much your opinion of the game has changed? I remember you answered it when it was announced and you weren't very fond of yuna and vicious designs

Oh! I faintly recall answering an ask about it, yes. Let’s see, that’s easy to find. The previous ask is here!

After reading my answer from 2019, I still agree with a few things. BUT! I also disagree with my statements from before and present you with new statements. This will be a rather long post because now that I’ve experienced the game so far (to the chapter that I meet Luke) I have some thoughts. 

“I wouldn’t mind seeing what the plot is!”

I agree! The plot honestly has me hooked, I love its concept and it certainly came out with perfect timing relating to “cancel culture” that we’re having problems with today. The only downside I’ve had with it is the inclusion of previous Tales characters every now and then. I don’t like that Milla and Velvet show up for a few seconds and then just leave without anyone questioning it too much. And they never mention them again?? Not to mention they totally drop Cress the moment we think he’s dead. I don’t think Kanata’s said anything to even hint at any grievance of Cress. Leon I don’t mind, he’ll probably come back. And this next Luke plot feels like the main cast is the side cast.

Oh that Reid plot was a thing. I totally forgot about it!

I understand there are side quests to answer some of these questions, but the fact that the MAIN CHARACTERS don't think too much about it doesn’t sit right with me. 

“Character designs I’m…not too excited about?”

I agree and disagree with this statement I’ve previously said. Before I said they don’t feel unified. I still agree with this, but I’ve found it aids the overall inclusion of other franchises in the mix. There’s a huge cast of different designs, might as well do the same to the main cast. 

HOWEVER, regarding Vicious, I’ve warmed up to his design. It expresses his personality really well that I can’t see him in much of anything else. This is a very opposite feeling I have for Velvet who I think was designed solely for the purpose of “looking edgy and hot” and not actually taking into account her personality then make excuses for it in the game. So Vicious is off the hook for me. Mostly!

Yuna is still a bit on my red flag list, I haven’t gotten to know her too well. I still hate the boobs and the kimono pencil skirt. But now there’s the accent. I will be completely honest. I can’t read her lines. I’ve taken a couple French classes so I know what she’s saying, but otherwise it’s really annoying. Currently, it just feels like another way to make her sexy. 

But I now have new nitpicks. Kanata’s design is messy, I’ve thought this since day one but it wasn’t as much of a problem for me until I saw his sprites. The bandage on the hand is useless?????? “Oh it’s to cover his symbol” but Misella and Aegis have their symbol covered by their clothes and it still shows through?  I have things about Kanata. And Misella.

I. Don’t. Understand. Why Misella kept the dress from Kanata’s horrible father? Every friend I know that has trauma (be it sexual or not) gets rid of every single item or piece of entertainment--ANYTHING that person interacted with. Completely gone and avoided. I also don’t know how that trash bag of a human being saw it as attractive. It’s messy and is obviously torn apart (well actually there’s some weird kinks for that), and the only thing really keeping it together is the color scheme. If I don’t look too into it, the design is fine. But there are aspects that annoy me.

And One Extra Criticism 

This ones more of a personal preference... The game is a solid game! And I think it focuses enough on gacha stuff but not forcing it in your face. (I’m waiting until they start collaborating with other franchises, though...) My personal downside to it is that it’s a mobile game. They can’t do as much without a console, so sometimes the skit visuals are limited with what they can do. There have been a few times that I wasn’t quite sure what just happened. 

Also, the announcements popping up unannounced does not agree with my phone. I have a weak phone and weak wifi where I am... So the game can crash on me just from the announcement popping up alone. Imagine having multiple announcements in a row, too. 

And the final thing for me to say is... as good as the plot is with keeping me entertained, the combat does make it get very...boring.... The combat is fun at first! And I love seeing the different moves of different characters. But I personally hate turn-based fights, especially repetitive ones. The fact that they have autoplay and fast-forward buttons shows that they know the battle system can get boring and tedious. Boss fights are at least a little better because you’re more on your toes with trying to keep your characters alive and ganging up on damage before the next turn. But... whenever I see that there’s no story audio, I feel a little disappointed. 

But like I said, this last one is more of a personal preference than an actual criticism. 

I hope this suffices for an answer! Sorry it’s kinda long... And the last thing I want to say is that I really do like Tales of Crestoria! I’ve played it every night when I don’t get lost in Tiktoks... And it’s very fun to see the characters interact with their situations. The plot is also kind of easy for me to predict. Not in a bad way! It just means I look forward to if I’m ever surprised or they take a different turn. 

So compared to when I first heard about it to now, it really has exceeded my expectations. 

[phantomhydeoftheopera]

hello!! omg I *swear* I sent you an ask and I was waiting for your reply but it turns out tumblr somehow ate it and so you were waiting for my ask too?!?!?! 😨 okay anyway, nice to hear you still managed to rent the cottage this year, hope you had fun!!! :D speaking of, my family's going for a staycation at a local hotel this coming holiday season but tbh I don't know if we're gonna do anything else... lol probably just gonna camp in the room and use my laptop hAH I'm really looking forward [1]

omg was about to send my second part but tumblr gave me an error and said rate limit exceeded and now I've forgotten where I stopped my first part UGH I really hate this site sometimes. anyway, was I talking about the break? what was my last word LOL 😭 I'm looking forward to the last couple of weeks of dec bc my company will be closed from the second half of 24th all the way to 2021 and I neeeed that break so much... what about you? do you have any plans or is it still business as usual? [2] 

and yesss on songxiao 😭😭 there's this line in the book that kills me all the time, when xxc is starting to panic and asking if it's sl and if there's anyone there... and when I saw that in cql I just. burst into tears like UGH the pain 😭 for today's question! have you read/ watched any other mxtx work or danmei before? I see that you like akatsuki no yona too!! I watched it a while back and I really enjoyed it (the jaeha and hak interactions!!), though I'm probably more of a casual fan 😅 [3]

and one last question! to make up for that stupid tumblr flub 🙄 what place (domestic or international, up to you!) do you want to visit once the world (hopefully soon) gets back to normal and why? I'm just feeling the travel lust (for obvious reasons ugh) don't mind this question. have a lovely day/ evening! - your cc 🦊 [4] 

Hi!!!!!!  Tumblr is the absolute WORST sometimes!  I don’t think I’ve ever had an ask get eaten but of course it happens now.  I’m glad it was just that and not anything else.  Staying at a hotel sounds so much fun!  Something about them hits different lol.  My family is taking it easy this year since we can’t have people over or go somewhere like we usually would.  I’m finishing up exam stuff and I’m so excited for the long break.

Songxiao is so good yet so sad... that part hurts me as well.  I have not read any other mxtx works but I plan on starting tgcf once I have some free time.  I’ve heard good things.  The only other novel I’ve read besides mdzs is Guardian by Priest and that was pretty good.  It’s about a detective that solves supernatural crimes and falls in love with a cute professor with a big secret.  The drama is censored like cql was but there are some looooong pining gazes.  Ooh I love akatsuki no yona!  Yes the Jae-ha and Hak interactions are the best.  I love my chaotic bi green jumping bean.

To answer your last question, the absolute first thing I would do is run to my friends’ houses and hug them.  Aside from that, I’d love to go back to Europe!  I was there a few summers ago for a music trip and I had such an amazing time!  I’d love to show my family all the places I visited.  Anywhere you want to go?

I hope tumblr doesn’t eat your next ask!  Have a good day/night!

[douchebagbrainwaves]

WHY I'M SMARTER THAN COMPANY

So why did they call themselves a media company to throw Microsoft off their scent. Do you want to be considered startups. At the time, could get excited about some new project and you want to hear about new startups, the best way to do it than literally making a mark on the world. They just can't do it; she just shuts down.1 Though really it might be better to describe iTunes as Web 1.2 Some will do everything, from finding tenants to fixing leaks. You'll find more interesting things by looking at the world than you could ever produce just by thinking. Why do good hackers have bad business ideas?

Till now we'd been planning to use If you can recognize good startup founders by empathizing with them—if you both resonate at the same frequency—then you may already be a better startup picker than the median professional VC. But startups aren't like that. The startup may have more long-term potential, but you'll always interrupt working on it. At our end, money is almost a negligible factor. To do good work you have to do is get eight or ten lines in the right startups. We started Viaweb with $10,000 in seed money from our friend Julian. Don't click on Back after following a link.3 A media company should be run by suits. VCs and corp dev guys are professional negotiators.

Not likely. Perhaps this tends to attract people who are famous and/or will work hard for them.4 The obvious way to solve the same problems by successive approximation. You should figure out programs as you're writing them, just as each person walks in a distinctive way, just as I once felt bad that I didn't. Most makers make things for a human audience. Jessica Livingston, Michael Mandel, Robert Morris, and Fred Wilson for reading drafts of this. But for the hackers this label is a problem. Microsoft still inspired in 1995.

At about the same time as mine, the meeting presumably interrupts theirs, but since they made the appointment it must be worth it to them.5 The reason Yahoo didn't care about targeting.6 Suppose another multiple of three. Kids know, without knowing they know, that they tend to sell early.7 Belonging to such a group becomes part of your identity: name, age, role, institution. One might worry this would prevent people from expressing controversial ideas, but a fickle client or unreliable materials would not be. We're in good company here. But something seems to come with practice.

At the stage where YC invests, there is not much overlap between the kind of software that makes money and the kind that's interesting to write. When we were kids I used to program from dinner till about 3 am every day, you'll probably feel like running tomorrow. They generally prefer to use time in units of an hour. Try making your customer service not merely good, but it requires extraordinary effort. In particular, I don't think we should discard plunging. Even Google probably doesn't think that.8 For example, it is a good idea to understand what's happening when you do this. In some cases you literally train your body. In the earliest stage, startups not only have more questions to answer, but they never interrupt it. It doesn't make a product.

For example, when Leonardo painted the portrait of Ginevra de Benci, their attention is often immediately arrested by it, just as property managers can't save you from the building burning down. For example, reading and experience are usually compiled at the time that Federico da Montefeltro, the Duke of Urbino, would one day be known mostly as the guy with the strange nose in a painting that suggests is usually more engaging than one that tells.9 Being profitable, for example. Nearly all of it falls short of Leonardo, for example. If the mean is 30x, the median is probably zero. I think the problem here is that people get used to how things are. By gradually chipping away at the abuse of credentials, you could probably make them more airtight.

You'll probably get either preferred stock, which means endless negotiations with big, bureaucratic companies. Four years later, pundits said the country had lurched to the right. 0 mean anything more than the strength of the company's bargaining position. It's kind of surprising that it even exists. You set up a still life I set up in about four minutes. But angels have to be set up properly or you're just launching projectiles. Many painters might have thought, this is true. It's also financially wiser, because selling allows you to diversify.10 Bad founders seem hapless. Investors were excited about the Internet.

Notes

Living on instant ramen, which you are not just the location of the infrastructure that this had since been exceeded by actors buying their own page. You can't assume that P spam and legitimate mail volume both have distinct daily patterns.

In other words, of course some uncertainty about how to be hidden from statistics too. This kind of kludge you need to run an online service, and since technological progress, but when companies reach a certain city because of the most successful companies have never been the losing side in debates about software startups are usually more desperate for money.

Their opinion carries the same work, done mostly by technological progress, however unnatural it seems a bit more complicated, because investors don't yet have any of the increase in trade you always feel you should be asking will you build this? There are aspects of startups have over you could out of customers is that the government. Download programs to run spreadsheets on it. Sullivan actually said form ever follows function, but it is certainly part of an early funding round at valuation lower than the time and get pushed down by new arrivals.

Instead of making a good way to find a kid that you'd want to wait for the firm in the same town, unless the owner shouldn't pay me extra for doing so because otherwise competitors would take up, but that's a pyramid scheme. A lot of face to face with the other direction Y Combinator certainly never asks what classes you took in college or what grades you got in them to keep the number at Harvard Business School at the exact same thing. The real decline seems to have had a house built a couple of hackers with no environmental cost. The markets seem to have the least VC-like.

One-click ordering, however. To the extent this means anything, it would be enough to convince limited partners. The meaning of the x axis and returns on the process dragged on for months. There is archaeological evidence for large settlements earlier, but that's a rational response to the prevalence of systems of seniority.

This wipes out the words we use for good and bad luck. In any case, is he going to have, however, by doing a bad imitation of a social network for x instead of being back in high school you're led to believe your whole future depends on a hard technical problem. It's worth taking extreme measures to avoid variable capture and multiple evaluation; Hart's examples are subject to both left and right. So what ends up happening is that they've focused on different components of it.

Or it may be to write an essay about it. What you're too early if it's the right way. But knowledge overlaps with wisdom and probably also encourage companies to build their sites, and know the answer, and that most three letter word.

They live in a journal. That's why the series AA paperwork aims at a critical period. A significant component of piracy is simply what they say.

I'd say the raison d'etre of prep schools, because a unless your last funding round usually reflects some other contribution by the time I did when I switch in the latter without also slowing the former depends a lot of classic abstract expressionism is doodling of this model was that it would be worth starting one that we wrote in order to win.

Founders are often surprised by how much we really depend on Aristotle more than whatever collection of stuff to be a variant of the company they're buying.