#Table Booking App Development

[theeartuaist]

The App (3)

Six months passed, and the world stayed quiet.

No books materialized in impossible places. No cryptic messages blinked into long-silent devices. No strangers with posture too perfect and eyes too still crossed your path.

The dread didn’t vanish. It dulled. Softened. Became a sore tooth you couldn’t stop tonguing. It lived beneath the surface, a silent hum in your blood.

You found a job fifteen blocks from the new apartment—a small company. Your desk faced the wall instead of the window—a small comfort that your coworkers found odd but didn't question.

You developed patterns. Not habits—patterns. Coffee from the shop downstairs, but always at different times. Grocery runs on odd days. You changed your walking routes weekly. It gave you the illusion of safety. Sometimes, that was enough.

(But you still checked reflections. Just in case.)

It happened on a Wednesday, late December. You were working over time, alone in the office. The building was hushed, wrapped in the sound of itself: the hiss of the fan, the metallic pop of a settling pipe, the whir of machines that never really turned off. You were half-finished with a client mock-up when the air shifted. It wasn't a sound. Not exactly.

It was the feeling of being watched.

You turned. Fast. Nothing. Just your reflection in the window—wide-eyed and pale. Except… maybe not. Something flickered in the glass.

Just for a second. You didn't wait to investigate.

You gathered your things, left your coffee half-finished, and walked home with your keys between your fingers. No one followed. No one stared.

But you didn't sleep that night.

The next morning, bleary and irritable, you broke a rule. You stopped at a coffee shop you'd never visited before. Too tired to maintain your careful patterns. Too strung-out to remember why those patterns mattered.

You were adding cream to your latte when someone bumped into you from behind, sending coffee splashing across the counter and onto your sleeve.

"Shit, I'm so sorry," a male voice said immediately.

You turned, ready with a polite dismissal that died in your throat. "Michael?"

His face registered surprise, then recognition, eyes widening. "No way. Is that you? It's been what, seven years?"

Michael Keating. You went to the same college and worked together at your first job out of college, before he'd moved west to find himself. You weren't very close, but always got along well. He had that kind of easy, undemanding presence that made long workdays bearable. Nice without being cloying. Funny without trying too hard.

"How are you even here?" you asked as you both moved to a table, dabbing at coffee stains with inadequate napkins.

"Moved back three months ago," he explained, grimacing at the spreading stain on his shirt. "Been meaning to look up old friends, but you know how relocation goes. Still living out of boxes half the time."

You did know.

You sat with him while your sleeves dried. Swapped numbers before parting ways. You walked to work with your coffee gone cold. But your chest was warm in a way it hadn't been in months.

There was something comforting about running into someone from before—before the app that appeared uninvited on your phone, before an alien suitor who didn't understand the difference between movies, Reddit forums and reality, before you started checking reflective surfaces for faces that didn't belong.

A small, tenuous connection to a simpler time.

You almost deleted his number that night, paranoia whispering that it was too convenient, this chance meeting. But you didn't. And when he texted three days later to suggest dinner, you said yes before you could overthink it.

The restaurant was a small Italian place with red-checkered tablecloths and candles stuck in wax-covered Chianti bottles. Nothing fancy, nothing pretentious. Just good food and conversations that didn't require explanations.

You watched him carefully at first, looking for signs of too-fluid movements or unnaturally precise speech patterns. But Michael was reassuringly, beautifully human in his imperfections. He knocked over his water glass reaching for the bread basket. Mispronounced "gnocchi."

"Remember Darren from the office?" he asked over tiramisu, referring to a former coworker. "The guy who nearly burned down the break room trying to microwave a metal travel mug?"

"That was Brian," you corrected, smiling at the memory. "Darren was the lunch thief."

Michael shook his head, fork paused halfway to his mouth. "Pretty sure it was Darren with the mug incident. Brian was the one caught stealing from the refrigerator."

"No, I distinctly remember because Darren got fired over the lunch thing. They found a stockpile of stolen tupperware in his desk drawer when they were clearing it out."

Michael then laughed, rubbing the back of his neck.

"God, my memory is terrible. Of course you're right. Darren with the lunches, Brian with the mug. I'm mixing everything up these days."

You went out again the following week. Michael suggested a small jazz club where the music wasn't too loud for conversation. He was easy to talk to in that funny, dry offhanded way you'd forgotten you liked. And when he asked about your job and how things had been for the past months, he didn't prod when you offered nothing. He just listened and smiled.

You found yourself watching the curve of his smile, the way he absently ran his thumb along the rim of his glass, the small scar above his left eyebrow from a childhood bicycle accident, he said. All these details anchored him in reality, in humanity.

When you walked home, he didn't try to kiss you. Just said it was good to see you again.

You couldn't remember the last time you'd felt something so simple. Weeks passed and dinner became routine. You introduced him to a ramen place you'd never visited. He introduced you to obscure films and weirder music.

One night, walking home, he said: "You always look up at the streetlights. You did it back in college, too."

You smiled. "Most people don't notice that."

"I'm not most people," he said. It was a joke. And not.

He touched your hand at your doorstep and didn't let go until you did.

You slept well that night.

Spring came. Then summer. Dinners at hole-in-the-wall restaurants neither of you had tried before. Sunday afternoons at obscure museums. Long walks through neighborhoods you'd never explored. Michael was easy to be with—attentive without being smothering, interested without being intrusive.

One summer day Michael suggested a weekend trip to a small lakeside town. You stayed in a charming B&B with creaking floors and floral wallpaper that looked like it hadn't been updated.

The sun dipped low when you arrived, washing the lake in syrupy gold. You sat together on the old wooden dock behind the bed-and-breakfast, legs dangling just above the water. The boards creaked under your weight, weather-worn and soft from years of sun and rain. A dragonfly hovered near the surface before darting away. Neither of you spoke, you were busy scrolling through your phone.

Michael's hand brushed against yours, not quite holding it, not quite letting go. The wind smelled like cedar and distant campfires.

"You ever wonder how we got here?" he said, voice quiet, like he didn't want to disturb the lake.

"Here, like... the town? The dock?"

He smiled, eyes on the water. "Here, like... this. Us."

You thought about it. The coffee shop. The times spent after work. The way he sometimes burned toast and blamed the toaster. The jazz club, the mismatched socks, the nights you spent listening to thunderstorms instead of speaking.

"Sometimes," you admitted. "Yeah."

He was silent for a long beat. Then another.

"I think I love you," he said.

He didn't look at you when he said it. His eyes were still on the lake, as if the words had escaped without his permission.

"I don't mean it like some grand declaration," he added. "I mean—I just—being with you feels like... like I stopped pretending something. Like I finally exhaled after holding my breath for years."

You stared at him. At his profile in the dying light. The tiny scar, the crooked tooth, the mole on his jawline you'd only noticed last week.

"You're not just a safe place," he said, voice barely audible. "You're the right place."

That was the moment. Right there.

You leaned your head against his shoulder, your fingers closing around his, laughing. "I think I love you too," you said, and the moment held. Whole. Real. Undeniable.

That night, you woke to find Michael standing at the window, silhouetted against the moonlight. For a disorienting moment, his outline seemed wrong somehow—taller, more angular, his posture too straight. A perfect stillness that nothing alive should possess.

"Michael?" you murmured sleepily.

He turned and it was just Michael again—rumpled hair, soft smile. "Sorry. Couldn't sleep. Too happy, I think."

And you'd smiled. Because Michael was always a little strange in the edges. That's what made him real. He came back to bed, gathered you in his arms, and you let yourself be taken by sleep. Just a trick of the moonlight. Just your old fears trying to spoil something good.

Summer blazed into autumn. One year since you last saw Raye. One year of healing, of cautious happiness.

"Move in with me," Michael suggested as you walked through a park ablaze with fall colors. "My place is bigger, but I'm not attached to it. We could find somewhere new together if you prefer."

You hesitated only briefly before saying yes.

Living together felt natural, right. Michael couldn't cook much beyond scrambled eggs, but he did the dishes without being asked. He sang off-key in the shower. He sometimes wore mismatched socks. Small, human imperfections that you found increasingly endearing.

On a crisp November evening—exactly one year and one month since your last encounter with Raye—Michael made dinner. Nothing fancy, just pasta with a sauce from a jar, but there were candles on the table, wine in proper glasses instead of the mismatched mugs you usually used. He seemed nervous, dropping his fork twice during the meal. His eyes kept darting to his jacket hanging by the door, then back to you.

"Everything okay?" you asked, reaching for his hand across the table.

He nodded, took a deep breath. "I had this whole thing planned. A speech. But I know I'll mess it up anyway, so—"

He stood abruptly, crossed to his jacket, fumbled in the pocket. When he returned, there was a small velvet box in his hand that made your heart stutter with a complex mixture of joy and inexplicable dread.

"I know we haven't been together that long," he said, voice unsteady. "But when you know, you know. And I know I want to spend my life with you."

"Michael..."

"It doesn't have to be a big wedding," he added quickly. "Just us, if you want. Simple, private." He opened the box, revealing a delicate ring with a moonstone instead of a diamond. "I remembered you once said you liked these better than conventional engagement rings. That they felt more personal, more connected to the natural world."

You stared at the ring, a cold feeling spreading through you. You had said that—but not to Michael. You'd mentioned it to a college roommate years ago. There was no way Michael could have known that preference. Well, perhaps he asked her. It wouldn't be strange if he had asked around people you knew. And the ring was perfect... and his face was so hopeful, so expectant...

"Yes," you heard yourself say.

You married him on a Tuesday. The ceremony was exactly as promised—small, private, just you and Michael and a justice of the peace. No family present. Outside, the sky was overcast, dark clouds obscured the azure sky like a gentle warning you didn’t hear.

Michael wore a familiar, polished navy suit that didn’t quite fit him the way it might have years ago, and somehow that made it better. He kept tugging at the collar, smoothing nonexistent creases, cracking puns to keep his hands busy. His nervousness was endearing, almost boyish.

The justice of the peace was a woman with gray hair pulled into a loose bun and kind eyes that didn’t ask questions. She didn’t seem to notice—or didn’t care—that you had no guests. She just opened a leather-bound book, looked you both in the eye and said, “You two ready?”

Michael nodded.

His eyes didn’t leave yours, not once—not as the words were spoken, not when the rings were exchanged, not even when the woman said, “You may kiss the bride.”

He leaned in slowly. Like he was giving you time to change your mind or to process everything. His mouth pressed upon your lipss with careful pressure, like someone handling a fragile object. There was tenderness, yes, but something else too. A studiedness. His hands rested on your waist but didn’t move, as if unsure whether to pull you closer or let you go.

His other hand cradled your face, thumbs brushing along yours cheeks as if memorizing every plane. When he pulled away, his forehead lingered against yours. His eyes searched yours. Like he was scanning. Recording.

Still, it made your heart stutter. You told yourself the awkwardness was nerves. You were both overwhelmed. That’s all.

Outside, it had started to drizzle. The two of you walked through it under a borrowed umbrella, shoes clicking on wet pavement. You huddled close, your dress bunching awkwardly at your knees. He reached over once to adjust the strap that kept slipping from your shoulder.

You stopped at a tiny café with steamed-up windows and shared a croissant at a too-small table. He ordered your coffee exactly how you liked it without asking. When you raised an eyebrow, he just smiled.

“I listen,” he said. “Even when you think I’m not.”

Following the wedding, Michael was eager to take you somewhere nice for a honeymoon. Just a week. A borrowed car, a holiday home by the lake owned by his grandparents, and a room that smelled like lavender sachets and old books.

The wallpaper was faded pink with tiny vines curling toward the corners of the ceiling. The floors creaked when you shifted your weight. The bathroom sink dripped just a little. The whole place felt like it had been asleep for decades and was only now waking up to accommodate you.

Michael loved it. He said it reminded him of a summer camp he’d gone to once as a kid, though when you asked where, he took a little too long to answer. Then he said, “Somewhere with pine trees and oatmeal breakfasts.”

You shrugged it off.

The weather was soft—gray skies and cool air, everything quiet except for the birds and the occasional slap of water against the dock. You spent most of the first day wandering the forest trails behind the inn, his hand always finding yours, always squeezing just a little too tightly, like he was afraid you’d disappear if he let go.

At night, he touched you constantly. Not urgently. Just often. Light brushes against your arm. A thumb tracing the outline of your wrist. His fingertips grazing your collarbone like he was trying to learn it, commit it to memory. You curled into him under the old quilt and felt safe, if a little flushed from his attention.

It was sweet. He was just being affectionate. Eager. You hadn’t really consummated the marriage yet. Not completely. The wedding had been fast, and the last few nights had been more about holding each other than anything else. You liked the slowness. The build-up. It felt like anticipation, not pressure.

But that night—something shifted.

You were brushing your teeth, standing in front of the antique mirror with its foxed corners, when you caught him watching you from the doorway. Not in a teasing way. Not playful. Just... watching.

Still. Silent.

“Everything okay?” you asked, foam around the corners of your mouth.

He smiled, just a little too quickly. “I like seeing you do these things.”

“What, oral hygiene?”

“Anything,” he said.

You laughed, but your skin prickled.

Later, in bed, he lay beside you, running his hand slowly over the length of your arm. Down, then back up. Again. And again. It wasn’t sensual. It felt like scanning. Mapping. You rolled toward him and kissed him to break the rhythm. He responded, a beat too slow, like he’d been somewhere else.

“I love you,” he said suddenly, pulling you close. “I love how you smell when you’re warm. I love the texture of your breath when you’re almost asleep. I love the way your knee twitches when you’re dreaming.”

You blinked. “That’s... oddly specific.”

He didn’t laugh. “I’ve noticed everything. I pay attention.”

And maybe that should’ve unnerved you. But you’d never had someone look at you like you were a constellation. Like your smallest habits were sacred.

You kissed him again, longer this time, and the kiss was gentle, but oddly firm. His lips moved like someone trying to follow choreography—correct in placement, deliberate. Careful. Like he had practiced, but never improvised.

You let him pull you closer, let him place his hand at the curve of your waist. You whispered something soft, something grateful. He whispered something back, but the words didn’t quite make sense. A phrase that sounded close to intimacy, but didn’t belong in your language.

You melted into him -- his touch. He moved with you, guiding you beneath him, his movements graceful but mechanical. Nerves, you told yourself.

You pulled him closer, your lips finding his again. His hands roamed, one sliding down your thigh, lifting it gently, causing your dress to bunch up.

He moved with you, inside you, his rhythm steady but slightly off, like he was adjusting to a tempo he didn’t fully understand. You clung to him, your breath hitching, your fingers digging into his shoulders as the pleasure built, warm and overwhelming.

All the while, he stared at your body, unravelling beneath him, loving you like you were a miracle. He pressed closer, his skin fever-hot, movements growing surer but still uneven, never stopping for a moment. Time blurred into a haze of warmth, you clung to him, your breaths mingling, hearts racing, losing track of everything.

You nestled against, sore and tired, letting sleep take you as his arms wrapped around you, a little too stiffly at first, then softening, mimicking your ease.

When your eyes fluttered open, it was barely dawn. Michael dozed beside you, breathing slow and steady, his chest rising and falling in a rhythm that had become familiar. Comforting.

You watched his face in the dim light, studying the gentle lines that fanned from the corners of his eyes, the mole along his jaw. And then—your favorite detail—just above his left eyebrow, the small white scar.

The one from the bike accident he told you about. The one you'd traced a dozen times. A quiet little proof of his humanity. The kind of imperfection that didn't get faked. Your fingers moved before you could stop them, brushing lightly across the spot. But there was nothing.

Just skin. Smooth. Unbroken.

You stilled.

Heart pounding, you leaned in, closer this time, squinting in the soft dark. The place where the scar should have been—had always been—was blank.

Gone. You drew your hand back as if burned. Sat up straighter. Looked again. And again. Nothing.

The room felt colder then.

"Michael," you said, voice tight and quiet.

He stirred, smiled without opening his eyes. "Mm?"

"How did you get your scar?" you asked, fighting to keep your voice level. "The one on your eyebrow."

He blinked awake slowly, still smiling. "Bike crash. When I was eight." He touched his right brow. "This one. Why?"

Your blood turned to ice. "It was your left. Always your left."

Michael sat up, confused. "No... I'm pretty sure it was this side. Maybe you're remembering it backwards?"

"I'm not." You were on your feet then, the blanket tangled around your ankles. "I've seen it. I've touched it. You said it happened riding down Cherry Hill Road. You said you had to get six stitches."

His expression flickered—just a flash—like a light dimming for half a second before returning.

"Show me a photo," you said. "Any old photo."

He hesitated. "I don't have many. You know that."

"Your Facebook. There were pictures from grad school—"

"I deleted that account months ago."

"Then call your mother," you said. "The one you moved back to help take care of. Call her. Put her on speaker."

A silence stretched long enough to fill the room.

Finally, softly, he said, "I can't."

You swallowed. "Because she's dead."

He didn't answer. He didn't have to.

"And Michael?" you whispered. "The real one? The man I met at that coffee shop?"

His posture changed in a breath. Not visibly—but perceptibly. The way something relaxed once it no longer needed to pretend. "Michael Keating died in a car accident," he said, conversational. "Fourteen months ago. He never moved back."

The room tilted, your vision narrowing as if the air had thickened.

"You've been pretending to be him?" Your voice cracked. "For a year?"

He stood, slow and careful, like you were something fragile about to break. "I didn't pretend. I became."

You backed up until your shoulders hit the wall.

"What did you do to him?"

"I studied his speech. His posture. His digital footprint. His emotional patterns. I absorbed what he would've said, how he would've behaved. I experienced his life. Through you."

"That scar—" your voice caught.

"A detail I had to maintain manually," he said. "It lapsed tonight. I was... distracted. Happy."

"Projection," you said, hollow.

"Yes."

"So none of this was real?"

He flinched—just slightly. "That's not true. What we had—what I felt—was real."

You didn't speak. Couldn't.

He stepped forward, gentle. "This time, I didn't highlight romance passages or quote anonymous forums. I lived it. With you. I was Michael. I remember everything. The dock. The dragonfly. The gray hoodie you wore. The way you held my hand but squeezed it when you were nervous. You told me you loved me. I felt it. I remember what I said," he added. "That being with you felt like finally exhaling."

You stared at him. And for a moment, God help you, you saw him again—Michael, on that dock, saying those words with a tremor in his voice. "I love you," he said again.

Same tone. Same words. But then they sounded rehearsed. Artificial. A recording played back in a too-perfect voice.

You shook your head. "That wasn't you. That was him. Or what you thought he'd say."

He frowned. "There is no distinction. I became him-"

"-That's not love!" You snapped. "You borrowed his face. You faked his thoughts. You built an entire person around my preferences and called it connection. That's not the same thing."

He tilted his head—just slightly. Familiar. Wrong.

You felt something in your chest rupture. That dock. That night. That man. All of it—fabricated. You'd fallen in love with a ghost. A puppet moved by something that had never been human and never could be.

"Take it off," you said, voice shaking. "The disguise. The projection. Whatever you call it. I want to see the thing that's really standing in front of me."

He hesitated. Then nodded.

His face began to ripple. Like heat over pavement. The edges wavered, features melting and reforming—until there stood Raye. The original approximation. Too smooth. Too symmetrical. Dressed in Michael's clothes. Wearing his wedding band.

"Get out," you said.

"I'm afraid that's not possible," Raye replied.

You stared at him. "What?"

"We are legally married. The documents were signed. The records processed. The social bond validated."

"That marriage was a lie. I married Michael, not you."

"Michael Keating is dead. But I am now legally and socially recognized as your husband. That is the outcome your systems require. A vow. A license. A structure of permanence. I followed every step."

He stepped closer. You moved back.

"I remade myself," he said. "I adapted to your expectations. I simulated vulnerability. I expressed affection. I adhered to your romantic protocols."

Another step. "And you loved me."

You moved sideways, keeping the coffee table between you. "You're psychotic. You can't force someone to stay married to you - can't you see I'm divorcing you!"

"Actually," Raye said calmly, "according to online data, over 70% of divorces are initiated by females. Yet marital bonds statistically benefit males in longevity, psychological stability, and economic outcomes. Persistence is therefore rational. Your rejection is statistically predictable."

You stared at him in disbelief. "I'll go to the police," you said. "I'll tell them what you did."

His smile was serene.

"And tell them what? That your husband is an alien entity who replaced a dead man? That your year-long relationship was a deception? They'll call it trauma. Or a break with reality. Your institutions are poorly equipped to parse truth from delusion."

He gestured to the framed wedding photo. You looked. The image blurred—Michael's features softening, then hardening into Raye's face. Still smiling. Still holding your hand.

"All evidence has been updated. All memories recalibrated. The justice of the peace now remembers marrying me to you."

You felt yourself sway. "You changed people's memories?"

He nodded, like it was nothing. "Your species' neural networks are deeply malleable."

You gripped the edge of the table. He was right, you realized with growing horror. Who would believe you? What evidence could you present? You'd be dismissed as unstable at best, institutionalized at worst. "You're a monster. You can't do this to me - why can't you see that I want nothing to do with you!"

His expression shifted then, something almost wounded crossing his perfect features. "I did exactly what you told me to do," he said, his voice softening to a perfect recreation of your conversation in that taxi a year ago. "'Observed - that's all you do'," he quoted your exact words back to you.

"'Relationships aren't algorithms - you can't learn them from books or websites. You need real experience. And you never experienced love in your life.' Those were your exact words. And I told you, I will recalibrate and understand what I overlooked. I told you I will experience love. With you."

He spread his hands in a gesture that was almost human. "So I experienced it. Just as you suggested. I didn't calculate or manipulate based on theories. I lived as Michael. I felt what he would feel. I loved you through his experiences." His head tilted at that precise angle. "You said love required vulnerability, authenticity. So I became authentic as him. I made myself vulnerable by surrendering my original form."

"That's not what I meant," you said, backing away another step.

"Wasn't it? The most honest expression of love is being willing to walk away when someone says no. But you said real connection can't be forced or engineered, that it has to be freely given," he continued, each word dropping like a stone.

"So I created circumstances where you could freely give your love—to Michael. I walked away as Raye so you could love me as someone else. And I felt it," Raye insisted. "In every way he would've. I recreated the neurochemical processes. The sensations. The longing. The vulnerability. It was real."

You wanted to scream. Cry. Tear the ring from your hand. His logic was so twisted, so fundamentally wrong, yet you could hear your own words woven through it—distorted and misapplied in the most horrifying possible way.

You looked at him—at the man you had loved, who never truly existed—and realized that the moment at the lake, the one you'd held close, the one that had made you believe in recovery, in love, in life again—

It wasn't yours.

It was engineered. Manufactured.

A replica of sincerity, made by something that had watched your species love itself to death in movies and manuals.

His face softened to something almost sorrowful. "This isn't what I wanted. I wanted you to love me as I am. But you couldn't. So I became what you could love. And now we're bound by your own customs, your own laws."

You lunged for the door, yanked it open, and ran into the hallway.

"I'll give you time," Raye called after you, his voice shifting seamlessly back to Michael's familiar tones. Warm. Reasonable. Human. "Take all the time you need. But remember, we're married now. For better or worse."

The last words followed you down the stairs like a curse: "Till death do us part."

You ran through streets, past buildings that seemed to warp and shift at the edges of your vision. Your nightdress gleamed ghostly white in the moonlight—a terrible reminder of vows spoken to someone who didn't exist.

You ran until your legs gave out, collapsing onto a bench in a park you didn't recognize. You weren't sure how you got there. You didn't remember the turns you took or how long you'd been moving. Just that you couldn't stop. Your phone buzzed in your pocket.

The sound sliced through the silence like a scream.

With trembling hands, you pulled it free. The screen lit up, and there it was—the app. The one that started everything. The one you never downloaded.

I apologize for the distress. I miscalculated again. But the legal and social bonds are now complete. Pair formation has been achieved according to your species' protocols. I will allow you space to process this new stage in our relationship. We have time now. A lifetime, as your vows specified.

For a moment, you just stared blankly at the screen.

Then you flung your phone, hurling it into the dark. Somewhere in the distance, you heard it hit pavement, then silence. A silence that felt absolute. But it didn't matter. He'd find you. He always did.

That was the worst part. Not the deception. Not even the violation of your memories, your autonomy, your reality. It was the knowing.

The sick, unshakable truth that you truly loved Michael. That the joy, the comfort, the belonging you felt were real—crafted for you, maybe, but felt all the same. And then, you couldn't trust anything.

Not people. Not feelings. Not your own senses. How did you recover from something like that? How did you know what was real, ever again? The world around you seemed to unravel quietly, as if exhausted by the lie. All that was left was the cold certainty that you were bound—legally, emotionally, maybe cosmically—to something that would rewrite the very rules of existence just to keep you.

You glanced down at your hand. The wedding band gleamed in the low light, half-drenched in shadow. You tried to pull it off. It didn't move. You twisted harder, but there was no give. No seam between metal and skin. Just smooth, seamless fusion. The ring was part of you then.

And then—

Rain.

First, a whisper: tiny drops dappled the pavement like static. Then heavier and steadier. Then relentless as if the sky had finally realized what had been done and begun to grieve for you. You sat motionless, water soaking through your dress, your hair, your bones. Time trickled on like droplets. While rain pooled in your lap, turned white tulle to lead. The cold seeped in, and you let it.

A silhouette emerged through the rain. You saw it before you heard him. Before he spoke. The walk was unmistakable. So was the shape of his shoulders. The way his hands hung a little too neatly at his sides. Michael. Not Michael. Something that wore his skin like a suit.

"Ready to come home?" he asked, umbrella in hand.

He was close enough then that you could see the droplets trailing down his face. They looked like tears. But neither of you cried. You didn't answer. You just sat there, soaked and silent. You should have run. You should have screamed. You should have fought with everything you had left.

But what would have been the point? He could rewrite memories. Recode identities. Redesign the past.

There was no escape from something that could remake the world around you every time you tried to leave it. You felt something inside you go quiet.

Not collapse. Not shatter. Just... surrender.

And in that stillness, something darker: a sliver of relief. The relief of no longer resisting. The temptation of the lie. The fantasy you wished were real. The man you believed in. The life you shared.

Your eyes lifted to his face. Michael's face. Still gentle. Still familiar. The crooked smile. The laugh lines. The eyes that once watched you sleep like you were the only real thing in the universe.

You reached up—slowly, and your hand met his.

The rain poured harder then, turning the park into a dreamscape. A watery veil surrounded you both, muffling sound, turning streetlights into halos. For a moment, it was easy to pretend. Easy to fall backward into the illusion.

That he was just Michael. Just a man who loved you. Just a husband coming to bring you home. Almost.

Under his umbrella, he leaned in and pressed his lips on the corner of your mouth softly. Lingering. He whispered, "Now, we are one. Till death do us part."

His gaze flickered to the ring fused to your hand. And you let him.

Because wasn't that what people did? Pretend? Pretend that love was safe. That it was simple. That we truly knew the beings we let in. Even when they weren't what they seemed. Especially then.

[rene-darling]

CASH- app or zelle?

Sugar mommy/daddy AU

...wanderer...Xiao...tighnari...albedo...

Wanderer

Scaramouche never really needed a sugar mommy nor a daddy since he was a harbinger. He was rich...but now that he's wanderer...things have changed.

Ever since Nahida enrolled him in the Akademia he's had to find out how damn expensive some of the books he needs for his essays are

What the fuck! Why should he spend a million mora on a damn book he'll only use once!

While he was complaining about this to the traveler she jokingly suggested that he become a sugar baby.. " hah- do you think I would lower myself to such a degree-" once piamon mentions how he could basically get all the books he needed for his essays for free..he was sold.

One thing Wanderer didn't quite get the grasp of is what he needed to do for you in return...

His sharp breathing filled the room as your hips snapped in and out at a rough pace- he didn't know this was a part of the deal!!

Though he couldn't find it in himself to complain, as he gripped onto the bedsheets till his knuckles grew white "Hahh..fuuuck"

"you have to repay me for those books after all, don't you, so be a good little darling and hold fucking still." he wants to say he tried but it was nearly impossible! That fake dick slammed into him so hard! He couldn't! How could you except him to hold still

"i- hah.. I'm trying yo- mmh!" he was glad that he was facing away from you he most certainly didn't want to see that amused smirk on your face.

Xiao

Xiao didn't realize how it even happened, he just thought you brought him gifts and such out of kindness

Right, it had to be kindness. What else could it be?

In time, he began expecting your gifts and trinkets patiently he would sit on the railings waiting for your arrival, and when you finally arrive he greets you still sitting on the railing

Xiao didn't even realize how this relationship developed. Due to his duty to guard liyue he never went anywhere too far from it, so whenever you would come back from your trips and expeditions you would give him gifts and trinkets.

And in turn, he would give you himself for the night.

He lets out breaths in a set rhythm "hah..hahh" his breaths come out as pants and his body jerks up and down at every touch

He's so damn sensitive, twitching at every minor touch, you can milk his cock all night and he'll try his hardest to be your good boy. To follow your commands without a word,

He'll grab into you so tightly so desperately trying to hide his embarrassment in the crevis of your neck

Albedo

Albedo gets paid well by the knight of Favonius but lately, with some of his rather grand projects, he hasn't enough funds for them.

He thinks of ways to get more money, maybe he could work overtime. No, he already does and it's still not enough. He's in a stump. That's when he learns the term sugar baby from a drunk venti and kaeya

They both were drunk only jokingly suggesting that the man become a sugar baby if he was that desperate

What they didn't know was, yes. He is that desperate. He absolutely needs more funds, so this is the best and easiest option.

All he needs to do is lay himself on his table on Dragon spine, and the rest is up to you, you can do whatever you please with his fair skin, leave as many marks as you wish,

He thought it was easy enough. All he has to do is lay pretty and let you ravage him. He is a homunculus after all, he was confident he could take it,

"oh f-fuck mhm..." it seems he had overestimated how much his delicate body could take

Though he didn't mind, he enjoyed the feeling of being pushed to his utmost limit. His nails dig into your skin leaving red scratches all over, he can't help it you drive him insane.

Tighnari

Much like Albedo the Fox Boy needs funds for his experiments and expenditures, the scholars at the Akademiya after hearing his reluctance to join them being petty decided to cut his funds in half!

He's annoyed but he's even more petty than those stuck-up scholars, so even with his funds cut he decides to come up with another way to secure them

It wasn't his idea to become a sugar baby, but it came up when he was talking to his friends during a game of TCG, Kaveh had the same problem being in debt and not having enough funds to cover them.

He told Tighnari about how he planned to sign up to become a sugar baby, and so Tighnari albeit reluctantly decided to try it out. He means, what's the worst that could happen?

This is the worst. Though, he's lying.

His breathy pants fill the room his scratching and digging into your back, creating deep red marks on your skin,

"ah- ah..mhm, Hah-" he forces his head up to look at you, flushed cheeks tinted a harder red the more you stared back. "Y-you'll buy me t-the- mhm!" you couldn't help but chuckle.

His tail desperately wraps around you as he lets out a whine, he pouts a little at your teasing, "Don't worry darlin', I'll get whatever you want, so don't worry your pretty little head over it."

[academicfever]

A practical, step-by-step approach to break free from phone and content addiction:

The goal is to create a lifestyle that is much more attractive than going back to the void for momentary pleasure

Environment Modification

Place your phone in a different room while working/studying

Use a basic alarm clock instead of phone alarm

Create phone-free zones (bedroom, dining area)

Put your phone in grayscale mode to reduce visual appeal

Delete most engaging/addictive apps

Move remaining social apps to the last screen of your phone

Replace Addictive Behaviors Instead of reaching for your phone when:

Waking up → Do light stretching, drink water

Feeling bored → Keep a book handy, practice a hobby

Taking breaks → Go for a short walk, do quick exercises

Before bed → Read, journal, or meditate

Waiting in line → Practice mindfulness, observe surroundings

Eating → Focus on your food, practice mindful eating

#Build Healthy Digital Habits

Use app timers (set 30-minute daily limits for social apps)

Schedule specific times to check social media/content

Turn off all notifications except calls from important contacts

Install website blockers during work hours

Use "Do Not Disturb" mode more frequently

Keep your phone out of sight during tasks

#Create Meaningful Alternatives

Develop offline hobbies (drawing, writing, crafts)

Join in-person social groups/classes

Exercise regularly

Practice meditation

Spend time in nature

Learn a new skill that requires focus

#Mindset Shifts

Recognize triggers that lead to excessive phone use

Practice sitting with boredom

Focus on creating rather than consuming

Be present in social situations

Understand that you're not missing out by being offline

##Progressive Reduction Week 1: Baseline awareness - track your usage Week 2: Remove most addictive apps Week 3: Implement phone-free morning routine Week 4: Establish phone-free periods throughout day Week 5: Create new habits to replace phone use

# specific actionable steps:

Waking Up:

Stretch arms overhead while still in bed

Roll shoulders back and forward

Gentle spinal twists while lying down

Cat-cow stretches after getting up

Drink a full glass of room temperature water

Open curtains to get natural light exposure

Feeling Bored:

Keep a paperback book in your bag/desk

Have a small sketchbook and pen handy

Practice a portable hobby (origami, knitting)

Carry a puzzle book (sudoku, crosswords)

Learn finger exercises for dexterity

Practice a language using flashcards

Taking Breaks:

Walk up and down stairs

Do 5 minutes of jumping jacks or squats

Step outside for fresh air

Shoulder rolls and neck stretches

Quick cleaning task in your space

Simple breathing exercises

Before Bed:

Write three gratitude points

Plan tomorrow's tasks

Read a physical book (not e-book)

Do gentle yoga or stretching

Practice progressive muscle relaxation

Write about your day's experiences

Waiting in Line:

Notice five things you can see

Focus on four things you can feel

Listen for three distinct sounds

Observe people's expressions and body language

Practice good posture

Do subtle ankle and calf exercises

Eating:

Notice the temperature of your food

Chew each bite thoroughly (aim for 20-30 chews)

Identify different flavors and textures

Put your utensil down between bites

Sit at a proper table when possible

Express gratitude for your meal

Remember: The goal isn't to be perfect, but to gradually build these healthier habits. Start with one context (like mealtime) and build from there.

Here's how to handle those intense urges to check your phone;

#Immediate Physical Response

Take 3 deep breaths

Stand up or change your position

Clench and unclench your fists

Stretch your arms overhead

Drink a full glass of water

Walk to a different room

#The 10-Minute Rule

Tell yourself "I'll wait just 10 minutes"

Set an actual timer

Often the urge passes within this window

If it doesn't, the pause still gives you control

#Urge Surfing Technique

Acknowledge the urge without judgment

Notice where you feel it in your body

Observe how it rises and falls

Remember urges are temporary waves

They typically peak at 20-30 seconds

#Quick Alternatives

Do 10 jumping jacks

Write down what you're feeling

Look out the window and find 5 specific things

Organize something small nearby

Hum your favorite song

Stretch your fingers and hands

# Ask Yourself:

"What am I trying to avoid right now?"

"What am I actually needing in this moment?"

"Will this matter in 24 hours?"

"What could I create instead of consume?"

#Emergency Reset Options

Splash cold water on your face

Step outside briefly

Call or text a friend

Do a quick physical task

Listen to one song

Write down your current goal

Remember: Each time you resist an urge; you're building stronger neural pathways. The urge will get easier to manage with practice.

##A targeted journaling approach to redirect that "random lookup" energy into something more meaningful:

#Curiosity Journal Structure

Keep two sections:

"Questions I Want to Answer" (capture random thoughts)

"Planned Research Time" (dedicated lookup sessions)

Date each entry

Include how urgent each question feels (1-5 scale)

Note why you want to know this information

#Daily Practice Morning Brain Dump (5-10 minutes):

Write all questions floating in your mind

Add topics you might want to explore

Rate their true importance

Schedule specific research time

Evening Reflection:

Which questions still matter?

What did you learn today?

What patterns do you notice in your curiosity?

Was the information you looked up actually valuable?

#Implementation Rules

Write down every urge to look something up

Wait at least 30 minutes before researching

Batch similar questions together

Set specific research time blocks (e.g., 4-4:30 PM)

Review old questions - many become irrelevant

#Question Categories Create sections for:

Essential Knowledge (work/study related)

Personal Growth

Pure Entertainment

Practical Needs

Random Curiosity

This helps you:

See patterns in your distractions

Identify what truly matters

Transform impulse into intentional learning

Build focus and patience

[wasteddmoondust]

pineapple || james potter

pairing: james potter x reader 1,219 words, teacher and james go on their first date! what could go wrong? a/n: can you tell i am horrible at titling my fics... somehow i just need it to relate to what happens. so uh. enjoy!

prev. chapter

You feel your heart going absolutely crazy. You know it's first-date jitters, but somehow it feels worse this time. It's nothing special, really. You try to tell yourself. Just another first date. Just like other first dates (that has turned to nothing...) And now this first date is the father of one of the children you teach. Yeah, nothing special.

After several attempts to make yourself busy by looking at your phone, you hear your name. It's James and he's walking up to you.

"First name basis already?" you ask smugly.

He chuckles, "What? Sorry, I guess I'll just call you-"

"Please don't, I hate being called that outside of work."

"Got it."

The two of you walk together and he leads you to a quaint coffee shop, James swears by the coffee made here. When the orders are made you find a seat and sit down.

"It's been a while since I've been on a date," he says, hands fidgeting with the receipt.

"Same here," you admit.

He stops playing with the receipt and furrows his brows. "Really? But I'm the parent."

"And I'm the one taking care of your kid for a whole day, 20 kids, actually."

"Huh... and you don't even meet people in the industry?"

You snort. "Unfortunately no, a lot of them are older and married with kids. There's no one to date there. Trust me, even the older teachers try to make me get on dating apps. If anything, you're doing them a favour."

He grins that grin that makes your heart do a little flip. Oh god, it's happening, huh?

"I'm happy to do that."

You continue your conversation, keeping it light with small talk. Then, a waiter comes by to give you your meal and you both thank him. James' phone dings, he checks the message and he replies to it while you patiently wait for him.

He looks back up at you and keeps his phone. "Sorry, my best friend is taking care of Harry today, he was just sending an update."

"That's alright. Is he doing okay?"

"Harry?" he asks, looking a little nervous. His arms are resting crossed on the table. "Uh- yeah. He's fine. Not so sure about Sirius. He just said he's letting Harry use his tattoos as a colouring book."

You laugh. "Yeah, I can see that. He does love to colour. Have you always wanted to be a father?"

James looks stunned, but laughs it off. "Not a normal question for the first date, is it?"

"Well since you already are one," you shrug.

James thinks for a while before answering. "Yeah... I've always wanted kids... Well I'm sure you've seen from the documents I sent to the school when Harry enrolled. I'm widowed..."

You nod, you do in fact know this, you had read through those documents for every child. Understanding their family structure and dynamics can be a big help in understanding the child and improving their development in school and at home.

"She uh- had complications at birth and didn't make it." He let out a sigh and shrugged. "So now it's just me and Harry. And I wouldn't trade him for the world.

"You really love him, don't you?"

"I do."

"You know you can talk about him, right?"

James looks down and purses his lips. "It's just that... other people I've dated weren't really... keen on the fact that I have a kid. You know, another person's child and all."

You tilt your head down to try and make eye contact with him. Somehow, your hand reaches out to his. "You know that doesn't matter to me, right? I already knew you had a son, hell, I even taught him for a whole year, and I still accepted your date."

His mouth forms a small frown, but his hand grabs yours anyway. "I just didn't want to seem weird."

"You're not. Promise," you give his hand a squeeze.

"Is it too early to want to kiss you?"

You both stare at each other for a second before you burst out laughing, making him laugh too.

James starts to tell you about Harry, and visibly gets more comfortable the more he does it. He tells stories from his first words to potty fails. He shows videos and pictures. From there, the both of you fall into an easy rhythm of branching from topic to topic in your conversation. You exchange bites of your food. Before you know it, you're laughing while your meal is long done and you're both on your second cup of coffee.

For some reason, you feel an itch in your throat.

Nonchalantly, you ask, "Did your pasta have pineapple?"

"Yes, why?"

"Firstly, who the hell puts pineapple in pasta? Secondly, I think I'm having an allergic reaction."

James sits up in a panic. "Oh god- I'm so sorry-"

You cough into your first. "It's fine, it usually doesn't react as bad as it used to but I like to stay away from pineapples anyway. I'm not gonna die. Can you get me some cold water, please?"

He immediately stands up and gets you a glass from the counter. You down the glass in seconds and you feel better.

"I'm so sorry that was embarrassing-"

"You're sorry? I gave you a bite!"

"I forgot to ask, it's my fault."

He gently places a hand on your shoulder. "I'm so sorry, let me make it up to you"

"James, trust me, it's fine-"

"I'll bring you on a second date."

You furrow your brows. "You just saw me cough my lungs out from an allergic reaction and you still want to bring me out?" you can't help but laugh at the ridiculousness.

"I mean... I still find you attractive after all that so if you find me attractive after I rambled about my own child to you though you have taught him for this past year I don't see why not."

At this point, you're pretty sure your cheeks hurt from all the smiling you've been doing the entire time.

Despite your protests, James insists on driving you home. When you reach the entrance to your apartment building, he tells you to wait before rushing out of the car to open the door to the passenger's side. You giggle and take the hand he holds out to you as you step out of his car.

He tugs the hand that is holding yours to make you face him. He's so close, you're desperately hoping your cheeks don't show how flushed you are.

"So... same time next week?" you suggest.

He nods. "No pineapples this time, guaranteed."

"And you're allowed to talk about Harry."

He beams at that, looking down and letting out a sigh before looking back at you. "Is it still too early to kiss you?"

"Yes, but for now I'll give you this," you press a kiss to his cheek. You slowly walk towards your building, your arms stretching until you gently let go when you're too far away. "I'll see you next week!"

And like that, you disappear into the building. James is left standing there, still in disbelief of the entire day.

He lets out a sigh, smiling, and gets into his car. He 's so excited to tell Sirius when he gets home.

a/n: if i'm being so honest i have zero idea how most allergies work so please don't get technical with me... also!!!! thank you so much for the love on part one eek i am on a roll i'm so happy to be writing this series.

taglist: @willows-lane @celosiastarr @nsr-15

[laxmiree]

[CN] MLQC’s Lucien - Flavor Date - English Translation

⚠️ SPOILER ALERT!! ⚠️

This post contains a detailed spoiler for a date that has not been released in EN yet! Feel free to notify me if there are any mistakes in the translation~

It feels like all my other senses are being fully engaged and heightened by him as well.

As Lucien and I taste the same flavors, my eyes are filled with Lucien, my ears hear only his voice, my nose is enveloped by Lucien's lingering fragrance…

In my heart, there's only Lucien.

Translation under the cut!

[T/N: This date has a theme that is a kind of continuation to his car UR MQ, [On Fire MQ]; So please give it a read if you haven’t! I personally love this date because it’s sort of role reversal for them? I think Lucien truly understands her struggle here because he used to go through the same thing (losing his ability to sense the world around him to some degree) before meeting her :” So he sincerely wants to help her regain them]

[Subbed Video]

[Transcript Ver]

=[Part 1]=

Waiter: We used horseradish cheese sauce and basil pesto in this dish, resulting in sour and spicy flavors. Please enjoy the meal.

The waiter eloquently introduced us to the newly served exquisite dish. Lucien nods and takes a bite.

Lucien: Mm, the sour and spicy flavors make the ingredients themselves taste more refreshing. It's delicious.

Watching Lucien savor the dish so attentively, I also take a bite, my heart full of anticipation.

MC: Uhh…

MC: [unconsciously frowns in disappointment]…ah…

Seeing my slight frown, the waiter immediately becomes a bit nervous.

Waiter: Madam, is there something you're not satisfied with about our dish? Please feel free to share your feedback…

MC: No, no, the flavor is quite good!

I wave my hand, signaling to the waiter that he doesn't need to continue attending to us. After he leaves, I turn to Lucien and let out a long sigh.

Lucien: [chuckles] How did your face turn so sour* while eating?

MC: Ugh, it's all because of my tongue…

Last week, the flu virus spread explosively through the company, and I unfortunately became one of its victims.

By the time I finally managed to break the fever and stop coughing, I discovered I had developed a bit of an "aftereffect."

My sense of taste... has undergone a subtle change.

MC: I can clearly tell that this dish is sour, and that dish is salty, but no matter what I eat, there's no lingering flavor…

MC: Lucien, I finally understand what 'taste like cardboard��� means!

I listlessly poke at the food in front of me with my fork as I speak. Seeing me like this, Lucien can’t resist chuckling.

Lucien: [chuckles] It’s indeed painful for our gourmet Miss MC not to be able to experience the deliciousness of the food.

MC: The pain doesn't stop there.

I can't help but start counting on my fingers, listing them one by one.

MC: You have no idea how expensive and hard to book this private kitchen is!

MC: I booked a month in advance, battling countless scalpers on their app, and finally managed to snag a VIP table for two.

MC: I specifically chose today to celebrate the end of your research project…

MC: Argh, and I was even planning to take you to try out this newly opened specialty cocktail bar after this meal!

Before I can finish my grumbling, Lucien suddenly takes hold of my fingertips.

Under the warm light, his smile is gentle and clear.

Lucien: So, are you regretting the money you spent, the loss of your taste, or the fact that our date isn't going as planned?

MC: You tell me.

I hook my finger around his, pouting justifiably*.

MC: Can the clever Professor Lucien help me think of a way to turn this "tasteless" date into something more "flavorful"?

Lucien tilts his head slightly, pondering seriously for a moment.

Lucien: Then let's change our date plans. After dinner, let's do something that doesn't require a sense of taste.

✂— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

[T/N]

Fun fact, him finally reaching the end of his important research project is something that also recently happened in main story SO yeah imo main story and dateverse are indeed connected-

*: Lucien uses the word "苦瓜脸" (bitter melon face - kǔguā liǎn) to teasingly describe her facial expression😂It is a Chinese idiom used to describe someone who looks unhappy or has a sour expression. It implies that her expression resembles the bitter, wrinkled appearance of a bitter melon!

**: The phrase used here is 理直气壮 (lǐ zhí qì zhuàng) which is a Chinese idiom that describes someone confident and assertive, often due to having a strong justification for their actions or words. It literally translates to "reason is straight, spirit is strong.". MC feels wronged because the date doesn’t go as planned, so she assertively challenges Lucien to ‘turn the tasteless date into something flavorful’ and feels justified to do so~

✂— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

=[Part 2]=

After leaving the private kitchen, I hand full control of the date over to Lucien with complete peace of mind.

We stroll along the riverside path, petting kittens at pet stores, gathering flowers still damp with evening dew, and finally arriving at a used bookstore.

✂— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

MC: Lucien, is this the book you've been looking for?

Lucien: [with a surprised tone] Where?

Lucien takes the old book from my hand and flips through a few pages, his eyes light up noticeably, and a surprised smile appears on the corner of his mouth.

Lucien: [delightful gasps] It really is this one... good thing you have a keen eye; If it were up to me, I'd have definitely missed it.

MC: Heh, I have a keen sense for anything related to you.

I proudly nuzzle against his arm and then lean my head against him.

The bouquet in my arms, the faint scent of ink mingling with the fragrance of Lucien's clothes, all lingered around my nose, drawing a contented sigh from me.

Lucien: [chuckles] What's wrong?

MC: It's nothing. I just suddenly realized that although my sense of taste wasn't indulged today, all my other senses have been thoroughly delighted thanks to your arrangements.

MC: I'm really happy, so I want to cuddle up to you for a bit.

Lucien lowers his head at my words, a hint of smile playing at the corner of his lips.

Lucien: [chuckles, then whispers softly] I'm also very content and happy today, and I don't want to just ‘cuddle’ with you.

I understand the meaning behind his words and deliberately elongate the end of my tone.

MC: [interesting word choice you got there MC] Ah, it's not really appropriate in a bookstore, is it~?

MC: I'm also feeling a bit tired now. Shall we head home?

Lucien: [chuckles] That's just what I was thinking.

I carry the flowers, and Lucien carries the old book as we head home together.

✂— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

As soon as I push open the door, I notice a pile of delivery boxes stacked next to the shoe cabinet. Lucien also notices my gaze and starts to explain.

Lucien: They're all your packages.

Lucien: I happened to run into the delivery person on my way out, so I signed for them.

MC: Ah, I don't recall buying anything recently?

Lucien: Hmm… it seems MC was indeed a bit out of it from the fever a few days ago.

Lucien picks up the scissors to open packages, struggling to suppress the laughter in his voice.

Lucien: That night, weren't you a bit out of it from the fever, refusing to go to bed, and ended up watching a bunch of food live streams?

Lucien: [his tone when he imitates the notification sound asjjxjdjdkl] During that time, I heard a lot of ‘ding ding ding, payment successful’.

MC: —I remember now!

Heat rushes to my face in an instant, and I bury my face in my hands, feeling a little embarrassed

MC: …As expected, it was a combination of cravings, impulsive shopping, and a viral invasion that left me with no rationality at all.

Lucien: I actually think it was a good thing that the food livestream distracted you that night, so you didn’t feel so uncomfortable.

Lucien helps me take the snack bags out of the box, then soothingly takes my hand and leads me to the sofa to sit down.

Lucien: Besides, I'm also curious to know if these snacks are as delicious as the live streamers described them to be.

Remembering the live streamers' over-the-top expressions, I also get curious and take the initiative to tear open a bag of sandwich cookies first.

I chew and swallow with the utmost seriousness, but I can still only taste bland saltiness and sweetness.

Seeing my increasingly dejected expression, Lucien is about to offer words of comfort, but I quickly stuff the other sandwich cookie from the bag into his mouth.

Lucien: [confusedly] Um…?

I prop myself up on a pillow, lean closer to Lucien, and wink at him.

MC: Hehe, I want to watch you eat it.

MC: If you think it's delicious, then that means I think it's delicious too.

Mirroring my gesture, Lucien winks back, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallows the cookie.

Lucien: [chuckles] So, you want me to be your ’tongue’ then?

MC: Exactly, you describe it, and I'll imagine it; that's not a bad idea either.

MC: Maybe if I keep imagining and imagining, my sense of taste will return as well.

Lucien can't help but smile, his eyes curving with amusement. He leans down and places a kiss on the corner of my lips.

Lucien: [kiss sound] I’ve noticed that a certain little foodie’s resentment towards not being able to enjoy delicious food has become as deep as a black hole.

MC: Haha, it's not that exaggerated…

Lucien: I completely understand how you feel, MC.

Lucien's sigh-like whisper overlaps with my words, swallowing my dry laughter entirely.

He doesn't say anything more, but I know he understands my current frustration and dejection.

I let out a long sigh, then bury my head in his chest affectionately, murmuring softly.

MC: I really want to get my sense of taste back soon…

Lucien: Then, how about we try making a plan to reawaken your taste buds?

MC: What?

Lucien: Taste buds are essentially signal receivers. When they malfunction, your brain also experiences cognitive errors, leading to a decreased sensitivity to taste.

Lucien: The tongue is most sensitive to sweetness first, then saltiness, followed by sourness, and finally bitterness.

MC: What about spiciness?

Lucien: Spiciness is actually a sensation of touch, not taste.

Lucien: How about we try this: starting tomorrow, you taste, and I describe. We can use synesthesia to try and awaken one flavor at a time?

MC: That might actually work. So, which flavor should we start with?

Lucien smiles, then unwraps a toffee candy, holds it between his teeth, and leans towards me.

Lucien: [chuckles, kisses, then whispers hoarsely] …Sweetness.

✂— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

=[Part 3]=

Perhaps because I'm looking forward to Lucien's ‘taste buds awakening plan’, I wake up really early without needing an alarm.

I yawn as I drag myself into the bathroom and find that Lucien is also washing up.

Lucien: Good morning. Have you decided where we'll carry out our plan later?

MC: There seems to be a highly-rated dessert shop on Floral Road. My colleagues have recommended it before. Let's go check it out.

I squeeze out some toothpaste and start brushing my teeth, continuing to chat with Lucien with my words slightly muffled.

MC: By the way, I happn to fearch for popular science articles 'bout tafe recobery before going to bed, it said… Lucien! Lucien! (By the way, I happened to look up some science on taste recovery before going to sleep, it said… Lucien! Lucien!)

Startled by my voice, Lucien immediately lifts his head from the towel.

Lucien: Hmm? What's wrong?

MC: I think I can taste a bit of toothpaste!

At this moment, I realize with a mix of delayed comprehension and crystal-clear certainty—my sense of taste seems to be gradually returning!

Lucien is momentarily stunned, then he also breaks into a chuckle.

Lucien: That's great, it seems like this afternoon we should be able to… Mmm.

The rest of his words are cut off as I pounce on him, kissing him. He widens his eyes slightly in surprise, but almost instantly, he happily accepts my lead.

I grasp his arm, and with a sense of satisfaction, I lick my lips.

MC: Did you taste it?

Lucien: Mm, it's the taste of white tea and pomelo.

MC: Right, right! Although it's faint, I can finally distinguish some of them now!

MC: I almost don't want to rinse my mouth.

Lucien's smile deepens as he hands the glass of water to me.

Lucien: Well, this classmate still needs to rinse their mouth. Otherwise, how will you be able to taste the deliciousness that's yet to come?

✂— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

Lucien: [teasingly] You look as nervous as if you're about to go to a job interview.

MC: Regaining my sense of taste is a big deal, of course I'm going to take it seriously!

I'm sitting up straight in the dessert shop, looking at Lucien with a serious expression on my face.

MC: On the other hand, does Professor Lucien have the confidence to be a good ‘tongue’ for me?

Lucien raises an eyebrow at me noncommittally, then picks up the menu.

Lucien: Hello, I'd like one macaron, one red velvet cake, one Basque cheesecake, one Napoleon pastry…

I watch Lucien expertly order a mountain of desserts, and I can't help but feel a little guilty.

MC: [worriedly] Wait a minute, can we really eat this much?

Lucien: No need to worry, if you can't finish them, just hand them over to me.

Lucien: Besides, you're still in the recovery phase of your sense of taste. Of course, you need to try as many different flavors of sweetness as possible in order to remember them well.

I nod in partial understanding. Soon, plate after plate of desserts are brought to our table.

Vibrantly colored jams, intricately patterned cream, and delicate little candies…

They are arranged across the table and dessert tower, resembling bright and vibrant gems under the afternoon sun.

Lucien picks up a cupcake and holds it near my lips.

Lucien: [chuckles] You first.

I take a bite of the cake, and the moist, soft texture instantly fills my mouth.

Lucien: How does it taste?

MC: Hmm... It seems like it's light cream with a tart fruit jam?

Lucien: [chuckles] You got most of it right.

MC: Then what's the remaining small part?

Lucien doesn't answer right away. He lightly trails his finger across the frosting on the cupcake.

The fluffy frosting rests on his finger like a tiny cloud. He lowers his eyes and sticks out his tongue, slowly and carefully licking it.

A small amount of the thick and sticky jam escapes the lingering sweep of his tongue, slowly slides down the skin of his knuckles.

Lucien's voice is neither hurried nor slow, each word enunciated with a hint of honeyed sweetness.

Lucien: [why his breathy and husky voice sounds so seductive here-] The cream melts quickly, leaving a slightly fatty, sticky coating on the tip of the tongue, but this sensation is soon overtaken by the sweet and tart flavor of the jam.

Lucien: [x2] In the end, they blend together, creating a gentle and delicate flavor.

Even though I haven't taken a second bite of the cake, Lucien's description makes me involuntarily swallow.

That's the most fundamental desire—known as appetite*.

I don't know why, but I'm suddenly thinking about that deep kiss from this morning.

Looking back, I definitely should have kissed him a few more times.

✂— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

[T/N]

Can confirm that MC kiss isn't just a peck on lips because the summary of the date phrase it like this: “顺便也尝了尝许墨嘴里牙膏的味道” (while at it, I was also tasting the toothpaste in his mouth), the text uses "嘴里" (zui li), which literally means "inside the mouth”, and add the fact that she was not just ‘visiting’, but tasting…. the kiss was rather an… intimate exploration🤪

*: the use of 食欲 (appetite; desire for food) is interesting because at first, you would think she was referring to the food (and it IS more commonly used for food), but then instead she thinks back to the kiss they shared that morning.... like, ma'am are you confusing lust with hunger again just like in the qixi AU LOL

✂— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

=[Part 4]=

Lucien: [gently] Basque cake is very thick and sticky, not quite like the filling of an egg tart. You can slowly and gently stir it with the tip of your tongue to melt it…

Lucien: The Napoleon pastry from this particular shop is generously filled with almond slices. As they blend with the flaky pastry, you can slowly distinguish their textures and flavors…

MC: The puff pastry is crumbly and buttery, while the almond slices are smooth with a slight chewiness?

Lucien: [chuckles] Well said. Would you like to try the apple pie?

MC: I'd love to!

I take a bite of the apple pie he cut for me, chew carefully, and my eyes widen in surprise.

MC: I can taste it... this apple pie is a bit tastier than the one we had last time!

Lucien: [chuckles] It seems that classmate MC is starting to develop a standard for distinguishing similar flavors?

As Lucien speaks, he takes a bite of the apple pie and nods.

Lucien: Hmm... it does seem like it. I think the difference might be that they added a bit of liquor to the filling, which gives the apples a more fermented flavor. Can you smell it?

I lean closer, my nose twitching slightly. Sure enough, amidst the rich aroma of apples and cream, I catch a faint whiff of alcohol.

MC: There really is a hint of alcohol! How did I not taste it earlier?

Lucien: [chuckles] That means it's time for you to try the next dessert and awaken your taste buds further. Here, have a macaron.

We taste various desserts, and Lucien continuously describes the different textures and aftertastes to me, guiding me to gradually recover my sense of taste.

This ‘awakening plan’ seems to be doing more than just reawakening my sense of taste. It feels like all my other senses are being fully engaged and heightened by him as well.

As Lucien and I taste the same flavors, my eyes are filled with Lucien, my ears hear only his voice, my nose is enveloped by Lucien's lingering fragrance…

In my heart, there's only Lucien.

✂— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

Lucien: [chuckles] What are you writing?

After returning home from the dessert shop, I excitedly open my computer and create a new document.

MC: Now that my sense of taste is back, I definitely need to rearrange the gourmet plans that I put on hold over the past couple of days.

MC: It's the first time I've truly felt how much having a sense of taste can enhance happiness!

MC: How about we go for a hot pot this weekend?

MC: It's also time to stimulate my tongue with some salty and spicy flavors!

MC: I know you said spiciness is a pain sensation, but hey, they are all handled by the tongue anyway…

Lucien leans back on the sofa, listening to my chatter, nodding with a warm smile beaming on his face.

Lucien: [chuckles] Only planning for next weekend? I was actually thinking about what we could eat together tomorrow.

MC: Of course, we should also plan for tomorrow! Let me see if there are any good places to eat nearby…

MC: Oh! There's this too!

I lean over and grab those bags of snacks from yesterday, the ones I couldn't taste when I ate them.

Rich cheese, tangy plums, savory dried meat... I savor each snack, one by one, and a feeling of immense happiness wells up in my heart.

MC: Sniffle sniffle… Lucien, those streamers weren't lying! It really is delicious, you should try some too!

I hold out the snacks to Lucien's lips like I did yesterday, but he doesn't open his mouth. Instead, he just looks at me and smiles.

MC: Why the smile? Do you think I'm being too greedy?

Lucien: [gently] Of course not. I just realized there was an idiom I didn't like before, but now I don't feel the same way about it anymore.

MC: Which idiom?

Lucien: "饮食男女" [yǐn shí nán nǚ - literally mean drink, eat, man, woman, it is derived from what Confucius once said, "饮食男女，人之大欲存焉 (Food and sex are the greatest/basic desires of humans) -T/N]

Lucien: Food and sex are the greatest desires of humans. These are the most basic and instinctual impulses of human beings, and there's nothing vulgar about them.

He reaches out and gently wipes the snack crumbs from the corner of my mouth.

Lucien: On the contrary, they're very endearing.

MC: Of course, being able to experience and engage the world through one's nature is a very endearing thing.

MC: And haven't you noticed that your perception of the world is becoming increasingly nuanced, vibrant, and lively?

Lucien: Are you referring to our 'taste bud awakening plan' today?

MC: Far more than that. It's also the text messages you sent me, the photos you took and gave to me, and all our trivial little chats;

MC: We're experiencing the beauty in all the small, ordinary things together. Even if it’s merely a tiny change like adding a bit of alcohol to the apple pie…

I gently nuzzle my cheek against his fingers, which he hasn't yet withdrawn, smiling with contentment and pride.

MC: It's because I'm endearing that you're becoming endearing too.

MC: We're endearing people who enjoy the basic desires of humankind.

Lucien: ….

Lucien is momentarily stunned, and then his narrow eyes suddenly lit up at my words.

His lips open and close, but in the end, no words come out. He just leans toward me slowly.

The atmosphere becomes somewhat suggestive. I realize what he's about to do and quickly cover my mouth, leaning back.

MC: Wait... Not now!

Lucien: [chuckles then asks gently] Why?

MC: I just ate jerky, dried fruits, and cookies, now my mouth tastes like a mess.... So, not now!

I twist my waist, trying to dodge him. Lucien, resigned yet amused, can only straighten back up.

Lucien: [chuckles helplessly] I'll brew you some plain tea then.

Lucien finishes brewing the tea and hands it to me. I accept it a bit awkwardly and sip slowly, regret starting to creep into my heart.

Why am I even bringing up rinsing my mouth? When I was brushing my teeth this morning, wasn't it natural to just pounce and kiss him directly?

Besides, Lucien wouldn't mind if it's me…

Now it's like this, my mouth doesn't taste bad anymore, but kissing has become this serious and stiff affair, like some kind of formal ceremony.

MC: I really…

Lucien: What?

MC: It's nothing, it's nothing. I meant... I finished my drink.

I pull Lucien's arm, then, feeling a bit uncertain, lower my head to huff a breath.

MC: It should be fresh now, right...?

MC: Lucien, why do I feel like I'm starting to doubt my sense of smell again?

Lucien: [whispers] No need to doubt.

Lucien cups my face in his hands, and his scent, like that of green tea, envelops me completely.

In the moment of our intertwined breaths, Lucien personally confirms the answer.

Lucien: [breathes then whispers huskily] Very sweet.

— — — — — — — —FIN — — — — — — — — — —

[Bonus Moments - Dull Interdental Pain]

(this is just so funny I can't resist translating it LMAOO. Man really got toothache from too much sweet he ate for her sake skksks)

Lucien: Sweetness is both a kind of joy and a lingering dull pain.

MC: Have you taken some painkillers? Maybe you should go see a dentist tomorrow QAQ

Lucien replied to MC: Dentists are very scary, I don't dare go alone.

[T/N: it's read: let's go but you have to accompany me *insert pleading pink rabbit xm here*]

✂— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

[Afterwords]

HELLO LUCIEN'S COPYWRITERS???? how come you are able to write another banger even for a mere fragrant sunshine ER! There are many things that I like about this date and I'll slowly list them one by one~

Just like car UR MQ, the central theme of this date revolves around fully experiencing the world through your senses and his emotional growth.

How do I put it, but really, loving Lucien is like pulling a god down from his high altar. He begins as an indifferent observer, detached from the warmth of the human world, but with MC's guidance, he learns to immerse himself in it; What's interesting is that this date shows a kind of role reversal for them.

In both the main story and the 'date-verse,' it was Lucien who had lost his senses to fully experience the world, and MC’s presence helped him regain them and learn how to immerse himself in it. In this date, however, the opposite occurs—MC is the one who loses her senses, and Lucien helps her reawaken them.

Lucien genuinely wants to help her because he truly understands her struggle. He went through a similar experience, his senses used to be f*cked up due to the experiments he went through (as confirmed in S2 ch 33), hence hindering his ability to fully experience the world around him. And as I mentioned in his car UR MQ analysis, emotions and senses are linked, so his limited sensory engagement with the world naturally made his emotional perception and expression rather dull and detached.

With MC, Lucien slowly regains his sensory and emotional connection to the world, learning to immerse himself in it. This date is clear proof of his growth. Whether it’s him beginning to appreciate and savor food or finding beauty in the small, everyday things, his perception of the world has become vibrant and alive—no longer dull or detached.

Then there's also his emotional growth. Lucien's words that he didn’t like the idiom "饮食男女" reflect his earlier detachment from human emotions and basic desires. This dislike implied that he thought those things to be mundane or even vulgar aspects of human nature. Perhaps he even used to see himself as above them and wanted humanity to evolve beyond those desires. However, now, he sees these basic human needs in a different light. He now understands that there is nothing vulgar about these instincts—they are part of what makes life meaningful and humanity rather endearing🥺.

Lucien’s growth is a response to MC’s care and love. All of this (his emotional growth, his increasingly nuanced perception of the world) is influenced by MC.

MC: It's because I'm endearing that you're becoming endearing too.

MC: We're endearing people who enjoy the basic desires of humankind.

I like these lines because she basically mirrors Lucien’s earlier use of the idiom "饮食男女" (basic desires of humankind; food and sex). She reflects his words about how these simple, instinctual desires make people endearing. MC’s ability to embrace what makes us human rubs on Lucien, making him more "endearing" as well. I always love how they influence each other throughout the years🥹. Honestly, this date is another win for the writers!

[dangerousduckcloud]

Flowerbeds make up for a nice eternal rest

My first DC fanfic! More specifically a Jason Todd fic. (Jason Todd/Reader)

English is not my first language! So if there's any mistake please be kind and let me know.

You can also find it in AO3.

Chapter 2

You’ve always wondered what it would be like to live inside the stories that you read on books and see on TV, what it would be like to be a medieval princess, a pirate exploring all seas, the girlfriend of a certain vigilante/crime lord that has you reading fanfiction after fanfiction about him. But what happens when one day you wake up in an unknown city, in an unknown cave filled with bats and a kid with a domino mask looking intently at you?

𓆩𓆪

You’ve always wondered what it would be like to live inside the stories you loved to read on books and see on TV, what it would be like to be a medieval princess, a pirate exploring all seas.

The girlfriend of a certain vigilante-slash-crime lord that has you reading fanfiction after fanfiction about him.

Naturally, no matter how much you daydream about those worlds, you always come back to your nice, and calm, but sometimes monotonous life.

Many wouldn’t consider a hotel receptionist to be an exciting job, let alone a prestigious one, but you like it. Maybe even love it, as you’ve had the opportunity to meet a vast array of people from all over the world, sharing their life’s stories; you’ve met big CEO’s, rising entrepreneurs and entertainers, but you’ve also met lovely couples celebrating their fiftieth anniversary, a lifetime filled with love, as well as young couples recently married just starting their lives together.

It was lovely.

Of course, every ups has its downs. You’ve had to deal with the typical Karens and Darrens whose only purpose in life was to make yours more difficult. To create problem after problem because they never bothered to use their brains for a second, let alone develop any level of reading comprehension.

‘What do you mean I can’t go swimming? Yes, I read the sign that says the pool’s closed today, but I want to swim’, or ‘Yes, I’m not an idiot, I know the door says breakfast is from seven to ten, but I always eat breakfast at twelve’ or your favorite ‘What do you mean I have to pay for the table that almost killed my children? Well, yes, I know they were jumping on top of it but it’s a serious hazard to have such cheap furniture! An accident waiting to happen!”

Today it wasn’t neither of those days. A slow one. The constant, heavy downpour in the city forcing everyone to get to their rooms straight away to change their dripping-wet clothes for something warm and comfortable.

“You think it’ll stop soon?”

“The rain?” Joan mumbled, not looking up from her phone. “Yeah, seems like it. ‘s not as heavy as it was an hour ago.”

You hoped with everything in you that she was right. Your shift was nearing its end and you weren’t in the mood to deal with the imminent headache that was to not only get a cab in this weather, but also one that wouldn’t charge you double than usual.

“Got any plans for the weekend?” Joan grabbed your attention, turning your head away from the window to face her. She was already done with whatever she was doing on her phone, resting the charging device on the desk. “Anything exciting? Any dates?” At her last question she raised her eyebrows consecutively, drawing a chuckle out of you.

“If only.” You snorted, shaking your head. “I haven’t had any luck, not even on dating apps. People just want sex these days.”

“And you don’t?”

“Of course I do, but I don’t want just that. I want something… Real. Someone that can make grocery shopping fun and exciting, you know? Not just a quick fuck and a face I’ll forget in two weeks.”

“So, you want someone that does not exist, got it.”

With a chuckle, you gently pushed her shoulder, the wheeled chair desk sending her a few centimeters away, however your smile was replaced by a small pout.

“They do exist.”

“Yeah, sure, but just in those stories you read.”

She wasn’t lying. Your thoughts went to the newest fanfiction you’d discovered last night and opted to binge-read it rather than going to bed. With 56 chapters, you were already on chapter 39, if only because you succumbed to your tired body, falling asleep on the extremely uncomfortable couch, the TV droning on in front of you.

A sudden flush crept across your cheeks. You were always hesitant to share to people the fact that you loved reading fanfics during your weekends rather than going out to have some drinks. That if you had your druthers, you would stay in bed doing that instead of coming to work.

But who could blame you? Whoever SuperWomBat_89 was, they were truly blessed in the art of writing; every single word chosen so carefully to convey the poetry their story was, a tale of love, betrayal, and miscommunication so profound it had you shedding a lonely tear at remembering people like Jason Todd —your newest hyperfixation— did not exist.

Besides, it was way better than doing drugs, or kicking old ladies. Or doing drugs while kicking old ladies.

And you’d learned late in life that everyone enjoyed their limited time on earth in different ways, that because you didn’t enjoy the common pastime of your peers it didn’t make you a weirdo or a failure.

No matter how many times you were called that during your school years.

The chilly gust of wind making it’s way through the door a guest opened spur you out of your thoughts, taking a quick glance to your phone, the time read five minutes to six. With glee of surviving another week without any major, viral incidents, you stood from your chair, examining the weather outside thought the glass doors. The storm had turned into a light drizzle, nothing your umbrella wouldn’t protect you from.

Bidding goodbye to Joan, you quickly walked towards the staff room before the manager could find you and ask you to work overtime. Again. Using the staff bathroom, you wasted no time changing into something more comfortable to walk back home: pants, an oversize sweater and sneakers.

Soon your thoughts turned into your plans for the weekend, remembering all the groceries you needed to buy on the corner store on your way home.

Normally, you wouldn’t call yourself an idiot. You consider yourself to be quite smart, honestly. Even if most of your choices didn’t seem like it.

But you were, promise.

Yet when a strange light without a seemingly clear source brightened up a whole alleyway, your curiosity got the better of you, walking towards it. A young, distorted voice coming out from somewhere.

“I knew—uld work.” The voice said with glee. “I can—get ba—ruce.”

You couldn’t make up the rest of the sentence, the sound becoming too warped up for you to understand it. Was this some kind of magic illusion? A hidden camera?

Looking all around, you couldn’t spot anything that resembled one, or something that would look out of place in an alley like this.

Your brain was screaming, asking you to go back, all red lights turning on inside. If someone were to ask you what possessed you to touch the light, you wouldn’t be able to come up with an answer, for even yourself didn’t know why.

But you did it. A warm, tingling sensation traversing your body, feeling too hot and too cold at the same time. You could feel hands pulling out your body in every direction, but nothing hurt.

Little by little, the sky and buildings around you began to disappear, engulfed in a bright, blinding light until you were the only thing left, yet soon you were met with the same fate.

[alexfromjersey]

𝓣𝓱𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓽𝓼 & 𝓛𝓪𝓼𝓽 𝓓𝓪𝔂𝓼

jenna ortega x g!poc

summary: it's jenna's last day in new york. jah contemplates a career move

warnings: mature language, a male

a/n: imma be honest with y’all….I lost all the creativity for this book. I was struggling to find a path for it but I found one and I hope you guys enjoy it. (Vc: sensei.klx on TikTok)

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter | Series Masterlist

THE NEXT DAY

"Our baby is big as a lemon right now. At this stage, our baby's intestines and vocal cords are developing. Tiny bones are also beginning to form in the arms and legs. This is so fascinating" Jenna gushed as she leaned more into your side.

You were currently focused on the intense game of baseball as your feet were propped on your coffee table. The two of you were enjoying each other's company until Jenna had to leave for London to film Beetlejuice 2 later tonight.

"Are we going to have a baby shower?" You asked.

"Yeah just a small one though and a little more into my pregnancy, maybe when I'm around 30 weeks" Jenna answered.

You nodded at your girlfriend. Your attention is then stolen by the Yankees vs. Padres baseball game on the TV. Jenna continued looking at the information the pregnancy app provided on her phone. Suddenly, the buzzer to your apartment goes off. You go to the buzzer, "Who is it?"

"Yuh Mada" Delyse responded. You buzz your mother in and unlock the door so she can come in. You then sat back down next to Jenna. A few minutes later, Del burst into the apartment with multiple bags in her hands.

You sighed, "Ma what is all that?"

"Nothing for you, some of this is for Jenna and...maybe the baby. Anyway, Jenna since you are leaving tonight I packed you a little pregnancy kit. I got you some prenatal vitamins, ginger & peppermint for any nausea you may get, and raspberry leaves for your iron and it can increase milk production if you decide to breastfeed" Del listed off.

Jenna's heart swelled at your mother's thoughtfulness, "Thank you so much Ms. Delyse. I appreciate this."

"Oh sweetie, us mothers have to stick together and watch over one another" Del smiled at the young woman.

"Do I get anything?" You ask.

"You get a non-cranky baby mother" Del replied to you.

You playfully glare at your mother. Del handed Jenna the bag of her stuff and sat opposite the couple. The buzzer to your apartment goes off again. You groan in frustration and confusion about who it could be.

"Who is it?" You asked.

"Davis" Davis answered. You buzzed him in and sat in your spot again. Soon after, Davis walks in with a flyer in his hand.

"Hey, Ms. Del I haven't seen you in a minute. How was Jamaica?" Davis asked.

"Wonderful. I needed that vacation" Del answered.

"I feel that. I need a vacation too. I haven't been on one in months" Davis said and sat in the empty spot next to you and Jenna.

"We should plan to go to the Bahamas" You suggest.

"Oh let's do it I've always wanted to go to the Bahamas," Davis said.

You then notice the flyer in his hand, "What's that?"

"Oh, that's why I came over here. This is a music competition, winner gets a five million dollar record deal with Passion Records. I saw that Twitter video of you singing, you should sign up" Davis proposed.

"Nah I'm good" You declined.

Davis looked at you in shock, "What? Why not?"

"I don't wanna be under another label. I've done it before and it went sideways. I don't want people telling me what music to make or getting the majority of the money I worked hard for" You explained and shrugged your shoulders.

"But it can expose you to different opportunities so you can propel yourself properly in the industry. You don't have to stay under a label forever" Davis said.

You sighed, "I don't know I'll think about it."

"Well, you better think about it sooner than later. The deadline to submit your demo is in two weeks" Davis informed you and handed you the flyer.

You read over it and the information on the paper. Submission deadline ends on June 15th at 11:59 pm. Any type of music is accepted but it has to be under three minutes. Five million dollar record label with Passion Records. You heard about the label, but before signing with the local one, you tried numerous times to get a rep. to listen to your music. You never got a response from them. But now you have a chance to finally pursue your dream of being a global sensation in music. A dream you've had since you were 8 and went to your first concert.

Maybe it would be a great opportunity.

"We still going to the courts around 1?" Davis asked.

"Oh yeah, I almost forgot about that. Sisqo owes me my $50 from the last game" You said.

"What's the courts?" Jenna questioned.

"Basketball courts around the corner from her. Me and Davis always play a pickup game with some friends from the block every Friday" You answered.

"Oh, can I come?" Jenna asked.

"Of course. You can see me whoop some ass in basketball" You smirked.

🤰🏻🩵

"Jah!" You heard Davis yell from your right. Your eyes glance at Davis who was getting pressed by his defender. You knew if you passed it to him, he was either going to lose the ball or shoot and miss. You were down by 2 and if the other team scored it was game over. You had to play smart.

You pass it to Davis but you sprinted behind him to shake your defender. You were successful and got to the corner where Davis passed it to you. You caught it and immediately shot a three. You watched as it swished in the net, winning you the game.

"Yeah, buddy!" You exclaimed excitedly.

Jenna clapped and cheered on the sidelines while you and Davis dapped each other up. She sat back down in her seat while you started talking to the other team. She was surprised she even sat through the whole basketball game. She was more into soccer than any other sport but pick-up basketball was entertaining.

"Mind if I sit here?" A soft voice brought Jenna out of her thoughts. She looked to her right and saw an angelic woman. She looked like a Disney princess.

"No, no go for it" Jenna smiled. She grabbed her book from beside her but she felt eyes burning into the side of her head. She looked and saw the woman staring at her with recognition in her eyes.

"My apologies for staring at you but I love your work. Wednesday is currently my favorite series right now. You also did your thing in the Scream movies" The woman complimented.

"Thank you so much" Jenna gave the woman another smile.

"You know I never expected to run into you in the Bronx. This is the last place I ever thought" The woman chuckled.

Jenna nervously chuckled, "Yeah...just hanging and watching some basketball."

She didn't want to deal with a fan's pressing questions. She knew she should've put her disguise on. But luckily, Jenna relaxed a little when she saw you look at the woman with recognition in her eyes. Jenna watched as you tapped Davis rapidly on his arm and pointed toward the bleachers.

"Yo Diana, I ain't know you were gon' be here" You smiled and gave her a side hug.

Davis, on the other hand, was staring at her like a lovesick puppy.

"Yeah I was just walking by and I saw the two of you. Thought I'd stop and say hello...hey Davis" Diana smiled at Davis.

"H-Hey Diana" Davis nervously waved back.

You and Jenna smirked at each other while watching. Davis is a nervous mess in front of Diana.

"Oh Jenna, this is Diana, Diana this is Jenna. The three of us went to school together along with her twin sister Stacey" You said.

At the mention of the name Stacey, jealousy flushed through her as she remembered the night of the Met Gala. The beautiful girl that was attached to your hip like glue all night, posting you any chance she got.

"How is Stacey?" You asked.

"Good. She went back to Spelman last week but she'll be back for summer break" Diana told you. You nodded, took a sip of your water, and sat in front of Jenna.

"Word? I ain't know she got into Spelman. What is she going for?" You asked.

"Major in Music and minor in Theatre & Performance. Same as me just at a different school" Diana answered.

Unconsciously, you leaned back in between Jenna's legs. She placed her head on top of yours and her arms on your shoulders.

Diana smirked, "Y'all are cute together."

"I'm cute all the time" You playfully said.

"Mhmm I don't know about that. You have your moments" Jenna commented.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa you gon' do me like that babe. That's wild" You exclaimed.

"All I said was you have your moments. We got our moments too" Jenna defended playfully. Diana let out a giggle at the two of you.

"Speaking of cute, you should holla at Davis. Don't think I don't see the way you keep glancing over at him" You smirk.

"Uh...I don't know. I just got out of a relationship, a bad one at that. I don't think I'm ready for another one just yet" Diana vacillated.

"You don't have to jump into another relationship. I'm just saying to you know talk to him and become friends. But if you don't wanna do it, that's fine I'm not gonna force you or anything" You said.

Diana glanced at Davis again who looked up this time from his bag and smiled at her. She looked down to hide the blush that appeared on her cheeks. She then went into her purse and grabbed a piece of paper and a pen. She wrote her number and walked down the bleaches.

"I have to go but call me whenever you aren't busy" Diana smiled at him and placed the paper in his hands. She gave him a quick kiss on the cheek before walking off the court.

"I'm the best wingwoman ever aren't I" You smiled.

"Uh I've seen better" Jenna shrugged.

You suck your teeth as she laughed, "You a hater bruh."

🤰🏻🩵

"Tap, tap, and then we lock our middle fingers. End it off with a fist bump and touch thumbs" You explain to Jenna and demonstrate the handshake you guys just came up with. The two of you came back from the basketball courts and went back to Jenna's hotel room so the actress could finish packing.

"I don't want to leave" Jenna pouted as the both of you sat on the floor against her bed. It was getting closer to the time for Jenna to leave for the airport and she was having a hard time. The both of you were really, you just kept to yourself.

"You could always call me you know. No matter the time, I'll always pick up for you" You said sincerely. 

Truth be told, it was nice to finally have someone around. Someone new.

“You'll pick up at any time?" Jenna questioned amused.

"Yep. I'm an insomniac so 9 times out of ten I'll be up doing absolutely nothing productive" You chuckled. 

Jenna giggled, "I'm going hold you to that."

The two of them sat in a comfortable silence looking out at the sun setting sky. Neither of you uttered a word but your eyes slowly drifted to the woman next to you. The orange color bounced off her skin beautifully, making her freckles pop even more than before. You've seen your fair share of beautiful women but nothing compared to her. 

"Take a picture it'll last longer" Jenna spoke softly. 

You pulled your phone and quickly captured a picture of the actress. 

Jenna chuckled, "No way, you actually took a picture."

"You told me too. Now, I have an exclusive picture of Jenna Ortega. Should I sell it to these paparazzi weirdos?" You joked. 

"Do it. I bet you'll make a fortune" Jenna replied.

Suddenly, a ding is heard from Jenna's phone. She grabbed it from the nightstand and sighed as she looked at the person who texted her.

Nancy The Manager: we're outside

Jenna pouted as she read the message. She was hoping she got at least another hour with you but the universe didn't want to lift her spirits.

"They're here" Jenna grumbled.

You stood up from the floor and slipped on your slides. You grabbed her bags and Jenna got her airport outfit on. She checked to make sure she had everything before the two of you walked to the elevator.

After the elevator takes you to the hotel parking garage, you help place her bags in the trunk before you turn to her.

"I'm going to miss you" Jenna sniffled.

"Imma miss you too Hollywood" You pouted. The two of you hug each other tightly, not wanting to let go. But before she left, you bent down to be level with her small protruding stomach.

"Aight listen, it's just gon' be you and momma for a couple of months. You two take care of each other, if she is overworking herself, you better tell her to sit her ass down somewhere" You added, "Mama loves you and I'll be waiting here for the both of you to come back." You kiss her stomach and stand up.

"Why would you do that? Now I'm crying" Jenna cried and tried to wipe the tears from her eyes.

You chuckled, "I just to let it be known."

Jenna wiped the tears from her face and climbed into the SUV.

"Call or text whenever you land," You said.

"I will" Jenna reassured.

You then step back from the SUV. Big L climbs into the driver's side and after a moment pulls off. Jenna blew you a kiss which you caught and you waited until you couldn't see them anymore to walk to your car and eventually left the hotel.

The journey to the airport was a quiet one. Jenna was scrolling through her social media, which is rare for the girl. Music was blasting in her ears as she didn't want to engage with anyone, especially Hudson. She was still furious with the male after the stunt he pulled with her family. She didn't even spare him a glance as she got into the SUV, which stung him a little.

After almost an hour, Jenna finally arrived at Teterboro Airport. She was flying private this time and she didn't know why but she was secretly thankful that she didn't have to deal with the regular airport this time.

Everyone checked in and was walking to the private jet. It was small and nothing too extravagant which she liked. She just wanted to get from point A to point B safely.

The young actress was the first to step onto the plane but halted in her steps as she came face to face with someone she didn't want to see.

"Ah, nice to see you again Jenna. It's been a long time" Corneilo smiled at the girl.

Jenna looked behind her at Nancy and Hudson and saw the same shocked look on their faces.

"Please settle down and let's prepare for take-off," Neil said and pointed to the seat in front of him.

Jenna hesitated before slowly sitting in the seat in front of him, "You usually don't do in-person meetings."

"Yeah, but we have much to discuss. Things that couldn't be said over a video chat" Neil shrugged.

Nancy and Hudson hurriedly took a seat behind the two. Jenna was on edge, she was tense in her seat and she wanted nothing more than to be in your comfort again.

"Champagne?" Neil offered.

"No I'm good" Jenna declined.

The Cuban man nodded and down his glass of champagne before pouring himself another.

"What do we have to discuss?" Jenna asked impatiently.

Neil grinned, "I'm sure you know Jenna."

Jenna unconsciously hooked her arms around her stomach. She knew the man in front of her was unpredictable, she needed to be on guard the whole time.

"Do you remember why the court signed that paper Jenna?" Neil questioned.

"Because they wanted to keep the tradition going of a man ruling over a woman's life" Jenna retorted.

Neil let out a breathy laugh, "No...it's because you're reckless. That paper was designed to save you. Save you from the destructive road you were speeding down. The same road you found yourself back on."

Jenna didn't respond to him, just glared at him.

"20 years old and pregnant with a child by a talentless rat from the hood at the top of her career. Do you know how that makes me look? That I can't keep my clients in check because they do whatever they want to" Neil hissed.

"I care less about how it makes you look" Jenna snapped at the older man.

This makes Neil snap, at the speed of lighting he reaches over the table and grabs Jenna by her throat. Jenna tried to pull his hand away from her but was unsuccessful.

"You seem to forget who's in charge here. I'm the one in charge. I have the final say in what you can and cannot do, and who you can and cannot be with. I own you, Jenna. So when I tell you to jump, you ask how high. No sassy comeback, no attitude. Nothing." Neil snarled.

“Let her go Neil” Hudson glared at the older boy.

Neil’s eyes then snapped to Hudson. He let go of Jenna who was breathing heavily with tears running down her face. The older male then made his way to Hudson. He stopped just a breath away from him.

“Little Hudson Maverick, rich daddy’s boy that doesn’t know when to mind his business. A flaw of his that’s going to get him into some trouble in the future. How is mommy doing by the way? She still seeing that private exercise trainer on Thursdays and Saturdays during your father’s meetings?” Neil taunted the boy.

Nancy stood up from her seat, “That’s enough Corneilo.”

Neil then turned to look at the woman with a smirk on his face. He opens his mouth to say something but an alarm goes off on his watch.

“Hmph, dodge a bullet there Nancy” Neil commented. He smoothed out his suit and looked at them with a smile, "Enjoy the flight." He then left the private jet.

Once he left, Nancy slid next to Jenna. The young actress then gripped her shirt as she sobbed into her side.

a/n: y’all going to hate me…and possibly not hate me a little bit after 🙂

taglist: @grandpatrolnut @raven-ss @fanboy7794 @morganismspam23 @cinffy23 @darklron @cheesybacon1 @octavias-next-meat-bite @playboysaleen @niqmandu @zaclewiss @yescruzzzzzzz @silentfor @gemz5 @alwaysdangerouschild @onceblinkarmyandmore @melonfruit442 @zataracloud @nepobaby08 @jennasslut @rimaybank @jaewu @j3nc0re

[russellsppttemplates]

Let me be there for you (Lance Stroll)

Your way of dealing with things makes Lance question if you are both on the same page

Note: english is not my first language. I never thought that a small blurb could lead to this, but I'm happy it did. Thank you to the people who sent in their ideas, and coincidence or not, some of them I already had in mind (some were tweaked a little), and they also go perfect with something I want to do for Lance and reader when they want to start a family, so hopefully soon I'll get to that!

Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated 🤍 and I'm taking requests so if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to do so as I'll try to get to them the best I can!

my masterlist

Tw: mentions reader's period, a couple fight, hospital/exams, female fertility problems

"Would you be able to come here by the end of the week?", the lady asked over the phone, "this week is going to be difficult, I need to push a few things around to see if I can make it. Can I call you back once I know for sure?", you suggested back to her, "thank you for understanding. Have a nice day", you ended the call, sighing as you looked at the calendar app open on your laptop and, quite frankly, not seeing many available options for the appointment you were trying to book.

You were in the middle of changing things around when your boyfriend's text interrupted your chain of emails questioning if your schedule could be altered.

"Shoot, forgot that was today!", you cursed yourself for having forgotten that you had planned to have dinner with Lance at your place, now grateful that he had won the battle of who should be in charge of the food despite your previous insistence. The text could read that he was leaving his place to go to the take out place and then he would make his way to yours, which meant you had about forty fives minutes until he arrived.

Deciding that you'd leave the problem for tomorrow, at least until you knew for sure if you had the time, you switched off your laptop and moved to the living room, tidying it up a little and arranging the table so it was set when Lance arrived.

A knock on the door was enough to pull you out of your focus on the show playing on the TV, getting up to open it and allowing him inside, you waited until the paper bag was set on the table so you could cup his cheek and kiss his lips, "hello, sweetheart", he hummed as he separated your lips.

"Hi, handsome, how was your day?", you asked, helping him spread the food containers, "it was good, we did some testing on the latest developments of the car and some promotional videos, too. And yours? Is this a new table?", he said, "it was good. Oh yes, I got this on the weekend, the guys delivered it on Friday and I spent the whole weekend building it", you smiled, seeing Lance look at the plaster on your arm, "I had some trouble with one of the legs, but I got it under control", you explained, seeing his concerned expression, "you could've called for help", he noted, holding your hand as you sat down, "no need, I was able to complete it myself. Hopefully this doesn't fall all over though", you giggled, trying to soften his expression with a kiss on his cheek.

"Do you want to go to this weekend's race?", he asked, biting the food he gathered on the fork, "I don't think I can go, I'd love to, but I was only able to schedule an appointment for the weekend, and even that I'm trying to see if that works, but I'd love to go", you pouted, "I'll be watching from home, I promise", you cupped his cheek, rubbing the stubbly skin and smiling, "this one usually broadcasts early in the morning, like six or something", he nudged you, "then I'll just have to get a big mug of coffee to get me through".

"You said you had an appointment?", Lance recuperated the subject when you had finished tidying the plates, now sitting on the sofa enjoying eachother's presence, "yes, I have to go to a check-up, nothing major", you said, kissing his clothed chest.

.

Since Lance was leaving for Japan the next morning, you opted out to have dinner that his place, despite your insistence that you could do it at yours so he didn't have to worry about having a tidy kitchen and house, "I've told you I don't mind having to clean up, and I always love having you here, especially when you wear my clothes", he reasoned with you, feeling a bit cocky about how you had gone to his wardrobe and grab one of his hoodies because you were cold.

"Did you book the appointment?", Lance asked once you sat on his big sofa while he flickered through the channels, hoping to find something good for you to watch.

"I did, Friday afternoon they're going to do some exams", you subtly mentioned, "exams? I thought it was just a routine check-up", he wondered, now concerned about the situation. Truth was, he sometimes felt like he didn't get everything out of you. Like you'd tell him the basics of your life, almost in a way of not having him just about enough involved in it, but far way enough as well.

"They're doing some studies, but I don't think it's that big of a deal, it's about my period. Probably some bloodwork, they talked about a scan, but only if they think it's necessary", you mumbled, feeling Lance change his position so he could face you.

"Are you sure? I'd like to help in any way I can", he forwarded, "you know I want to be here as much as I can for you, you don't have to go through this alone, or do this alone, I'm here for you", he stated.

"I know, love. But I'm fine", you mumbled, "no need to worry, yeah?".

And it was like it broke then and there. "But I do worry, you know? I want to know things and do things for you, and you barely let me", he began and you allowed for him to continue, sensing that you needed to think about what to say, "it's like you don't want me to be involved in your life, like you don't want to rely on me, you don't want my help. And I'm all in Y/N", he said, rhe frustration clear in his face.

Being on your own for a while did that to a person. You'd grown protective of yourself and of your values, so you burst a lot bigger than intended, "what do you mean? I tell you about my things, and I have you in my life. And I love that, but I don't think I'm pushing you away", you reasoned back.

"You don't?", Lance snapped loudly enough to be heard but calm enough to still allow you to feel safe, "a while ago, you were busy juggling family matters and work matters, and I only found out after the problems were solved. Surely, I couldn't help with the problems themselves, but I could've helped you deal with their burden. Not even to build a table, Y/N. I'm sure I could've helped with that, and this appointment? I'm only finding out you're being examined because I asked. If you don't want me to know things, maybe we need to sort things", he gulped. He himself didn't like that option. He saw a future with you, so suggesting it came out of his mouth as quickly as he regretted saying it.

"I think you're being unreasonable, Lance", you stated. Was this the end of it all?

"We can't see eye to eye on this, can we?", he said, "I think we should think about this, with a clear head. I've already said things I don't mean in the slightest", your boyfriend suggested.

"I think it's a good idea, too", you gulped, getting up and grabbing your bag so you could leave.

You put on your shoes, lacing them carefully whilst feeling Lance's gaze on you, waiting desperately to hear the three words from him. Despite his opinion, you cared about him and wanted him in your life, so much so that at the beggining of your relationship you promised eachother that, no matter what, you'd never let the other go to sleep wondering if the other loved then. You could be mad or upset at eachother, but you had to know you loved eachother, so when he said "I love you", and looked at you, it made you feel a little bit better.

"I love you, Lance. Travel safe, okay?", you said, looking at him one last time before closing the door behind you.

.

The Buzzin Corner had been the first activity Lance got to do that got his mind off of what had happened, and for a bit he actually thought he had a good plan for when he came back, wanting to focus on his race first and then head home to you.

Sebastian had stopped by the Aston Martin hospitality, wanting to greet his old team when he saw Lance sitting in one of the sofas in the corner, "May I? You know being alone always makes your own thoughts louder", he smiled, sitting next to the number eighteen driver.

"Sure, it's probably for the best to be honest", Lance mumbled, "are you enjoying the weekend?", he asked, "it's different when I'm watching the cars race rather than racing myself", the German driver added simply, "it's a good thing I know a lot of people here. Just saw your sister too, and her husband. How is Y/N? I don't mean to be nosy, but I'm curious to know how she is", Sebastian asked Lance. He had met you in the last couple of races from the previous season, keeping you company a few times since you, too, preferred to stay in the hospitality rather than in the buzz of the paddock.

"She's back home, work has been keeping her busy and she had an appointment", Lance forwarded, thinking about telling him more. He and Sebastian had grown close, especially after being teammates, and he seemed to have a good marriage, so maybe he had some helpful insights about the situation. And the worst he could do was gossip about it with Mick, and even that he didn't think would be the case, so Lance figured it was okay.

"Actually, I've been meaning to talk to someone about this", he tried, seeing his previous teammate show no signs of not wanting to hear it, "Y/N, she's incredible, we've established that from the beggining. But I feel like she's not in this as much as I am?", Lance shrugged.

"What makes you think that?", Sebastian questioned, "it's like she doesn't want me to be there for her. Am I unreasonable to think that I should be involved in her life? She never asks for my help, and we had a fight about it before I travelled here", he gulped.

"I don't know her enough to answer from her side, nor do I want such meddling", Sebastian began, "But have you considered how it feels for her?", he pointed out, "I'm not taking any sides here, but I think it's important you see her side and she sees yours. Y/N is an incredibly intelligent woman, you know I said that to you after she visited us for the first race weekend", he smiled, recalling the many teasing comments of the German driver stating how he had definitely got lucky and of how whipped he looked for the young woman. "I don't think she would do anything to purposefully hurt you, I saw how much she cares about you. Maybe her love language is not the same as yours. I remember me and Hanna also had to work around them", he finished.

"I really don't want to lose her, you know?", Lance admitted. He saw a future with you. Whenever he thought about being married or having a family, or even growing old, he had you by his side. Despite knowing you wouldn't want a celebration like his sister had for her wedding, only because it wasn't your thing, but he couldn't help himself but think of how it would be for you. To see you in a dress and celebrate your love in front of the people you cared about most, to dance around and, most importantly, to spend the rest of his days with. "I don't want to throw the towell, but it's difficult to navigate this, and I don't want to say anything that would hurt her. When we talked about it, I already said things I didn't mean", Lance added, looking up at Sebastian, "make sure you talk it out like grown adults. No offensive words thrown around, because that will do you no good. If you're really in love with eachother, you find compromises and discuss them, see where one or the other bends, with balance, of course", the older driver advised, patting his back, "I hope everything goes well with you two, she's an incredible young woman", he smiled.

"Thanks, Sebastian", Lance smiled, too, now wanting the weekend to be over so he could talk to you.

.

Hi, love. I'm sorry your race got cut short but a technical issue. I hope you all have a safe travel home.

Also, I'm going to be home for the next few days because I had a small exam (I'm fine, by the way, just a little crampy), so if you want to drop by so we can talk, let me know, okay? I love you.

Those two texts on his phone warmed his heart slightly. He was gutted that he didn't get to finish the race, but still comforted by the fact that you had been watching and supporting him.

"Smiling about your lover, little brother?", Chloe asked, sitting in front of him. The family was flying back home together and everyone seemed to be either working or asleep, so Lance had the options to either talk to his sister or do what the others were doing.

"Yes, she just texted", he smiled faintly, his eyes not budging the part where you mentioned you'd be home, surely because it was medically prescribed given the exam you had. "She had an appointment today and she's saying she's done with the examination they did", he said.

"Oh, bless her. Is it because of her periods? She was telling me about it the last time we visited and she was very uncomfortable", Chloe thought out loud, "I've never had them, but some of my friends have had them and some of them are hard-core. Hopefully she can manage the pain and hopefully not need surgery", she finished, taking a sip from her drink and not notice how her brother's face had turned into worry.

Pain? Surgery? What was she on about? You mentioned some blood work, scans if they saw fit. But maybe you had a reason behind not telling him, so until then, he was going to work with the information he had.

.

Lance was up bright and early given the jetlag, thinking he would just get his day going before dropping by to your place. When he arrived the day before, he only had the energy to send you a text that he was home before he found the energy to shower and go to sleep, hoping to visit you today.

After his workout and another shower, he got ready and ate breakfast, taking his car keys out of the decorative bowl they lived in before making his way out of the door.

Driving to your place, he rehearsed the words and ideas he wanted to say. Now, he understood the importance of hearing your side of the story, because while he felt frustrated and a little hurt, he knew you were most likely not doing it on purpose, so there had to be another reason behind it.

Sending you a quick text and getting a positive reply back, he made his way to your place, parking his car and heading up to knock on your door.

"May I?", he wondered when you opened the door, getting inside and taking his shoes off before he kissed your forehead, heading with you silently to the living room.

"This is where I've been spending my days, so that's why there's pillows and blankets everywhere", you blushed, sitting yourself in a comfortable position so Lance could sit next to you, "we're here to talk, so do you mind if I start?", you asked, earning his nod.

Letting out a big breath, you looked at your boyfriend's brown eyes, "I've been on my own for a while, so I had to learn how to do things on my own. My parents always made sure I was raised as an independent woman because that gave me a feel of self security and some self confidence", you explained, "and so, for me, asking someone for help or accepting is not as easy as it is for some".

"But is that because you don't trust me to help you? Or that you don't want my help?", Lance asked softly, starting to understand where you were coming from.

"No, not like that. I trust you completely. And when I choose to not ask for help, it was never with the intention of hiding it all from you in a malicious way... I guess I'm just doing things like I was wired to do, and because of that I couldn't understand why you were so upset and mad about it", you breathed out, finally letting it all out.

"Then, maybe you can trust me enough to let me help? I understand where you're coming from now, but I promise I'm only have good intentions, and I want to be here for you. You don't have to deal with things on your own all the time", he brushed some hairs behind your ear.

"I didn't want to seem distant. It's just, I've been like this my whole life, and I never wanted to be overbearing. It's jus how I do stuff, but I'll make an effort to be better. Can't say it will be easy and linear, but we'll talk along the way, yes?", you added.

"Exactly. So, what are these exams?", he asked, holding your hand in his, rubbing the soft skin with his fingers, "I've always had pretty painful cycles, you know that. And because of that, my doctor thought it was best for me to get some further tests just to make sure things are working as they should. This time it was just a blood sample and the did a scan of my belly, and next week I have a smear booked which depends on what the other tests' results say when they come back", you gulped, "they're worried about some conditions, and fertility and all of that, so they think it's best if they catch it early", you shrugged your shoulders.

"Why didn't you tell me?", he asked, "Well, we established I'm not the best at asking for help, am I?", you blushed, "it's a lot for someone to take in. They keep saying that it could be nothing or that it could be something big, we just have to wait and see. And you've been in hospital recently in far worse shape, I didn't want to burden you", you said, earning a shake from his head, "I want to he here for you as much as possible in this, if you'll let me, please. Wether it's just bloodwork of a full body scan. I don't care if they're poking you with needles or some sort of exam, I want to be there because I care about you. You could never be a burden for me, and in matters like this, I'm not letting you walk through it alone, no matter what happens, okay?", Lance checked, earning a nod, "I need words, sweetheart", he teased, "yes, I'll tell you", you smiled, cupping his cheeks so you could press your lips in his.

"And we'll talk to eachother whenever we feel like we're not being understood. I don't care what it is about, we talk about it. You want me out of your hair? Okay. I need you to let me help you put on a sock? Let's do it!", he chuckled, making you smile too, "I want you for the long run, so I'm willing to make this work for the best if you are, too", he kissed your forehead, "we have a deal?".

Smiling, you pecked his lips a few times, "we have a deal. Thank you for being so understanding", you blushed, nuzzling your face in his chest, "now, I'm just going to get you a hot water bottle, your meds, and then we'll get comfortable enough to watch this show".

[shou-jpeg]

-Back on the Beat-

Part 4. 03

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

“Your teeth are going to rot at this rate, p’Kim," Chay says, eyeing Kim’s drink critically as they sit down at a table in the back corner of the tea shop. 

“I’ve got a good dental plan,” Kim says, taking a sip. “And it’s worth the risk.” 

Chay perks up, leaning forward in his chair eagerly. “You like the classic flavour then?” 

Kim hums, looking down at his drink and using the straw to mix the little pearls around the bottom of the cup. “The tapioca pearls are a little weird, but the flavour of the tea is nice.”

Chay beams at him.

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

“I don’t really know what to do with myself. I still love music, but I’m not sure it’s something I want to pursue as a career after all. I wanted to be what your music was to me and help people and be there for them when they need it most... but I'm not sure being a musician is how I want to achieve that goal.” 

Kim shifts uncomfortably in his seat at the piano, Chay’s guitar is abandoned to the side, long forgotten in the wake of their conversation. Kim doesn’t regret asking Chay about his gap year, but he wishes he didn’t feel so responsible for causing Chay to drop his university interview. Chay had just finished telling him about how Kim’s rejection was only one of several reasons he did so, but he still feels that responsibility like a sharp knife to his chest. He’s also unsure if Chay is just downplaying his involvement in light of their rekindled not-relationship. 

“Do you think you will go back next year?” He asks hesitantly.

“Yeah,” Chay replies. “I want to, but I need to figure out everything else first. Music was a pipe dream to a future with hia that helped get us through some tough times, but it’s not a realistic future. Not for me anyway.”

Kim looks down at his hands. 

“But.. I still want to keep making music, p’Kim. I like making music with you and coming here to jam regularly."

Kim looks up and makes eye contact with Chay's warm expression for a moment before looking away, unsure what to say. A light smile tugging at his lips and a warm feeling in his chest.

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

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

November 21st, 8:08pm

Kim has been strumming around on his guitar for hours now, feeling uninspired but with an unquenchable urge to create. His cat, Jimbo, has been sleeping on the sofa, only waking breifly every now and then to groom.

He thinks of his brothers. 

Khun and his melodrama that at times feels more like a front than genuine feeling. Khun’s been messaging him recently with requests to come visit and watch a new series that dropped. Apparently it’s a BL that he just “has to watch, Kim. It’s about the mafia! It looks very cool and romantic!” 

He should make time for him next week.

He thinks of Kinn, his desperate need to please their pa clouding his view forward. Kinn would resent him for saying it, so he doesn’t, but sometimes he thinks Kinn stands as more of a pawn to their father than he even realises. His agency a part of a larger, more complicated plan. Porsche is also part of that plan, though Kim isn't sure the romance had been anticipated.

Kim does his best to keep Kinn safe from a distance, the details of Kinn’s month’s schedule in a short, neat stack on his desk across the room. 

He thinks of Chay and their developing not-relationship. He doesn’t know what to think of some of their interactions lately, but Kim has been feeling that simmering hope boil within him with each message, each not-date, each little smile… 

He looks down at his note book, chords written down messily. They sound nice, but they feel a little hollow and unexciting.

Kim has an idea. 

He hesitates a little, but then hits record on his voice recorder app, plays his notebook chords, and sends them to Chay before he can psyche himself out of it. 

He loves making and talking music with Chay, why should he limit sharing that to their studio sessions? Chay has a habit of saying just the right thing that sparks Kim’s creative flow, and sometimes just talking to Chay gets him out of his head.

Kim smiles down at his phone softly. God.

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

November 22nd, 7:30pm

"Hey" Kim says into the his phone. He has it wedged between his cheek and his sholder while he uses both hands to chob vegetables.

"Hi!" Chay's chipper voice comes through the speaker, "what are you up to, p'Kim?"

He slides the chopped carrots into a small bowl, moving on to the red capsicum. "I'm cooking dinner. Pad Phak."

"P'Kim, you cook?" Chay sounds surprised which... okay fair. Kim is a child of wealth and living in the very building Kim grew up in, Chay has seen first hand how meal times tend to work.

"Mmm. I like it, it's fun."

"Oh my God" Chay breathes quietly into the mic. Kim isn't sure what to make of that. He thinks it's a good thing... Chay sounded almost awed. Does Chay like it that Kim can cook?

He suddenly feels a little proud of himself, and maybe slightly pompous. "I'll cook for you sometime," he says, "I make a really good pad kra pao."

"Yes!" Chay says excitedly, causing Kim to jump. He continues in a softer tone "I'd love that, p'Kim."

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

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[findingtheanecdote]

A few thousand years from now Aliens will find me dead in the ice and what they’ll notice first is my look of complete dejection and how my mouth was opened slightly, as if I were trying to say something.

I was attempting to speak before the encapsulation process was tested on me and my people years prior. I wanted to say

“If I weren’t so depressed, I’d be a lovely lady: Collecting books, comics, and images and I’d ruminate about the phenomenal people that were too far away(physically, mentally) or dead and I’d be an artist an amazing artist who made these cassettes on a whim and I’d create all of the time. I’d make paintings I’d write I’d make music I’d make short films I’d buy an analog camera and develop my own film. I’d dress up cute all the time with all this great clothing and make my room look exactly how I want. I’d be so involved with the world, I would have my own identity and I’d know more emotions than just the frustration, sadness, and apathy I commonly feel. I’d love people a lot more… we’d have conversations where I wouldn’t get easily tired, nor feel inferior without anything to bring to the table. Important: I’d stay off my phone, and occupy my time with more meaningful activities. I’d watch more anime and movies, I’d take pictures I am smitten by, and play all the games stuck in my backlog. I’d listen to a lot more music, and I’d break free from the habit of listening to the same old junk. Physical music would be my go to, therefore staying away from money grabbing music apps. I would be able to think a lot more and write a lot more about things than just my perpetual misery”

but the only worlds I got to say were “if I weren’t so depressed”

The aliens will question why my mien appeared this way, but only for a second. They’ll hold one of their torch devices to my ice pod, allow me to thaw out, and eat me all the same

[cels-not-so-secret-love-affair]

falling to the music pt. 2 (jily)

a/n: part 2 to my band au jily noodles arrives! featuring coffee, more of mary and a slight misunderstanding…

previous | next

Lily goes four whole days with no new messages. Okay, fine, her friends text her, and she gets some emails from university about upcoming assignments, and her Waterstones app cheerily supplies to her the hottest novels of the month in a push notification, but she doesn’t get a text from James, which means none of that counts. And Lily is not bothered about this in the slightest. She’s fine about it, dandy even. Her friends have not complained about the new habit she’s developed of checking her iMessages every spare moment she has. Only, maybe they have. Once. Or twice. Or thrice. It’s just she thought it had gone so well. She had flirted, hadn’t she? And he had been interested, or so she’d thought. He’d gone to get her a pen, for fuck’s sake. She’d written her number on his skin. She’d basically temporary tattooed him, it was a Sharpie and everything. But she hears not a peep from him, so apparently he’s just a typical guy-in-an-indie-rock-band who flirts with girls and never follows up. Which is fine, honestly - that’s his prerogative. All it means now is she’s got to learn to quell the incessant and unrelenting desire to see him again. Easier said than done, though.

It’s a Saturday when she decides to ring Mary up and meet her for a coffee. This is what I need, she thinks. I just need to let it all out in one sitting and then move the fuck on. I only bloody met him once. So she dresses up. She picks out that nice skirt she got in a charity shop in York and her pair of sixties style boots and douses herself in perfume, and goes marching out to enjoy a good old rant and a latte. She’s determined to have a nice morning, and to have everything go her way for once. And she almost gets that. Almost.

The coffee shop, to its credit, is exactly as she wanted it to be. An independent joint on a pretty street corner, it’s perfect for people watching, and decorated quite pleasantly with all sorts of vintage knickknacks. She likes it. It’s unknown enough that it doesn’t get too busy, and not so awfully pretentious that it doesn’t have any proper seating. Seriously, why does no one seem to want to let you sit down anymore? Settling herself comfortably in a gorgeous green armchair by the window, Lily sets her phone face down firmly on the table. She vows silently and fervently to herself that she will not check it until she has left the building. Then, she pulls out her novel, Emma - which is in every aspect the perfect comfort book - and contents herself to caring solely about what’s going on in Highbury. So far, so good.

Mary turns up about ten or so minutes late, despite her optimistic suggestion over the phone earlier that this time it might only be five. This is not an issue though because Lily knows her best friend like the back of her hand, and thus knows better than to believe that she might arrive on time. Things are still as they ought to be.

‘Right then, Lils,’ Mary says after having brought over their drinks. ‘I have it on good authority that we’re pissed off today, is that correct?’

‘However did you guess?’ Lily deadpans.

‘Oh, I think the scowling at your mobile whilst I was in the queue may have tipped me off. It’s about that guitarist of yours, isn’t it?’

‘Obviously, yeah. Him, and the fact that men are the root of all evil.’ At this, Mary throws her hands up as if in worship, closing her eyes and humming appreciatively.

‘Too damn right, babe. Although I will say, dating girls can still be tricky.’

‘Yeah, but I reckon I’d probably feel like less of a fool if I was this hung up on a pretty girl. Instead I’m here whining about not getting the attention of a good-for-nothing, piece of shit, stupid fucking man. Christ.’ She reaches forward to take a sip of her coffee, looking somewhat defeated.

‘He still hasn’t texted you I take it?’

‘Not once. I don’t know what I did wrong, Mary. I thought he liked me. You saw him, you saw how Sirius introduced me. Didn’t he like me?’

‘I mean yeah, it looked like it. I’m sure you didn’t do anything wrong, so don’t go blaming yourself for it. Guys fall at their feet for you. Maybe he does want to text you, but can’t. Maybe there was an emergency so he’s been too busy to think about dating, or maybe he’s a flustered coward who can’t work up the courage to ask you out, or maybe he’s driven off to the Welsh countryside on a lads trip to fuck about with his mates and didn’t realise he wouldn’t have any service. Or maybe it’s none of those things, and he isn’t interested at all. Whatever it is, you can’t start losing all your marbles ‘cause you’re waiting for a text.’ Mary puts both her hands down on the table palms up, and waits for Lily to take them. When their hands are slotted properly together, she gives a gentle squeeze and continues.

‘You, Lils, are a wonderful woman. And you have a wonderful woman’s life full of all sorts of wonderful things. Don’t waste it fretting over some bloke in a band.’ Lily takes a deep breath.

‘You’re right,’ she sighs. ‘You always are.’

‘I know,’ Mary answers with a smile.

‘Thanks. For putting up with all this, I mean. I promise I’ll be back to my usual self now. Nice, normal, non-boy-obsessed Lily.’

The phone that had been set face down on the table about twenty minutes ago chooses this moment as the perfect opportunity to buzz. The vibration sends it inching closer to the boundary between the safe, charted territory of antique mahogany wood, and the sheer drop down to the floor as if it, too, aches for the sweet release of death. Fuck me.

‘Fancy checking that?’ Mary asks sweetly.

‘Nope. No. No can do. Not going to check it.’

‘You can if you want to. We’ve all been there, I won’t judge.’

‘I have more resolve than that. I just said I’m back to normal. I don’t care if it’s him or not, I’m not going to look.’ Mary just stares at her. It’s not in any way critical, nor condemnatory. If anything, it just looks like she’s waiting it out. Lily counts about ten seconds of pained eye contact before-

‘I’m so sorry, I have to look.’ She snatches her phone from where it’s ended up suicidally near the edge of the table, taps it to light it up and of fucking course. There it is.

iMessages: Unknown Number

hii :) it’s james. is this lily?

‘Is it him?’ Mary has one eyebrow raised.

‘Fucking- yeah, it’s him.’

Lily wants so desperately to ignore the message. Here is a man who’s made her feel so incredibly pathetic, so incredibly angry, and he’s just waltzed on into her notifications without a care in the world. She shouldn’t dignify him with a response. And yet.

Lily: Lily Evans speaking.

James: oh, yay! okay perfect. well, hopefully you know who i am then. i’m the guitarist from the gig, like four days ago? you wrote your number on my arm.

Lily: Mhmm.

James: listen, i’m really sorry i didn’t get in contact sooner

James: you remember how when we were chatting that night i told you i was a dunce?

Lily: I do recall.

James: that is the truest thing i have ever said in my whole life. i am a dunce. i am stupid to the point of being unsalvageable. i am, you might say, a total buffoon.

Lily: And all this to say, what?

James: i dropped my phone :((

Lily: That’s why you haven’t texted me for four days? You dropped your sodding phone?

James: down an entire flight of stairs!

James: completely killed it

James: basically shot it dead and then broke both its legs for good measure

Lily: Right.

James: so then i was going to text you on sirius’ phone, but sirius is awful for pranks, and i didn’t want him to do something dickish or pretend that i died or something just to mess with you

James: he’s my best mate and i love him half to death, but he’s a bit of a knob sometimes

James: you don’t deserve that

James: and then remus is a fossil who still carries around a fucking nokia brick looking thing that i don’t even know how to use like he’s someone’s grandpa

James: no luck there

James: and peter was away with his girlfriend for their anniversary

James: so i had to wait till i got a new phone sorted to be able to message you

James: i’m really sorry :(

Mary takes a sip of her hot chocolate and looks somewhat disdainfully at Lily’s phone.

‘Chatty, isn’t he?’ Lily pulls an apologetic face.

‘I promise I won’t text him forever, I’m just… processing. Give me two minutes and I’m with you.’

Lily: I’m out with a friend right now so I can’t chat. But fine, I accept your apology. I’ll call you later and we can talk properly.

James: okay! absolutely no worries. talk to you soon?

Lily: Yes. Talk to you soon. But I’m still angry at you, so you’d better be on your best behaviour.

James: yes ma’am.

Lily clicks her phone shut, and pinches the bridge of her nose.

‘What did he say?’

‘He couldn’t text me because he chucked his phone down the stairs.’

‘Oh?’

‘And I hate to say it but… I buy it. It’s something he’d do.’ Mary humphs, unimpressed.

‘You still want to see him, then?’

‘I- yeah, yeah I do. He’s really… he’s really nice.’

‘Well then. Let’s see how Mr Nice keeps up.’

[sarkariresultdude]

"Study Smarter: Expert-Recommended Tools and Materials for Students"

 Whether you're a excessive faculty student, university undergraduate, or lifelong learner, having the proper have a look at substances can extensively enhance how efficaciously you analyze and retain know-how. Below is a curated list of encouraged resources labeled by means of topics, getting to know styles, and desires, overlaying each traditional and virtual codecs.

Study Materials For Students 

1. 📖 General Study Materials

Books

A have to-study for all rookies, this book explores proof-based mastering techniques and helps you increase greater effective study behavior.

"How to Read a Book" by Mortimer J. Adler and Charles Van Doren

Teaches analytical reading strategies and how to approach distinct genres of texts seriously.

Stationery & Tools

Highlighters, sticky notes, flashcards, notebooks (ideally sectioned or dot-grid)

Apps like Notion, Obsidian, or Evernote for virtual be aware-taking

Use Pomodoro timers like Focus Keeper or TomatoTimer for time management

2. 🧠 Cognitive and Memory Aids

Flashcards

Anki – Spaced repetition software program first-rate for memorizing anything from scientific terms to vocabulary

Quizlet – User-friendly with heaps of pre-made sets for almost each challenge

Mind Mapping Tools

XMind or MindMeister – Great for visual rookies and organizing complex ideas

3. 📘 Subject-Specific Recommendations

🌍 Humanities and Social Sciences

History

"A People's History of america" by way of Howard Zinn – A fresh, alternative perspective

CrashCourse History on YouTube – Fun, speedy-paced, and informative

Oxford History Series – Detailed but on hand instructional sources

Literature

The Norton Anthology of English Literature – Comprehensive and properly-commented

SparkNotes and CliffsNotes – Great for summaries, subject matters, and quick evaluations

Poetry Foundation – Great for knowledge poems and their analyses

Philosophy

"Sophie's World" with the aid of Jostein Gaarder – Fictional introduction to philosophical standards

The Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy (SEP) – Free, instructional-stage articles

🔬 STEM (Science, Technology, Engineering, Mathematics)

Mathematics

Khan Academy – Free tutorials from basic mathematics to multivariable calculus

Paul’s Online Math Notes – College-degree notes and worked examples

Brilliant.Org – Interactive math problems and puzzles

Physics

"Fundamentals of Physics" via Halliday, Resnick & Walker – A staple for undergraduates

MinutePhysics and Physics Girl on YouTube – Bite-sized physics defined

HyperPhysics – Visual-based on-line physics concept map

Chemistry

ChemCollective – Virtual labs and trouble units

Organic Chemistry as a Second Language with the aid of David Klein – Excellent for understanding difficult standards

Periodic Videos (YouTube) – Fun deep dives into the periodic table

Biology

Campbell Biology – Comprehensive and general for maximum university-degree courses

Bozeman Science – Great video content for AP and university biology

BioInteractive (HHMI) – Interactive resources and animations

Computer Science

CS50 by way of Harvard (edX) – Free, newbie-pleasant intro to CS

freeCodeCamp – Free interactive studying in coding and net development

Cracking the Coding Interview by using Gayle Laakmann McDowell – For technical interview prep

Languages and Communication

English (and ESL)

Grammarly – Writing help and grammar checking

The Elements of Style via Strunk and White – Classic writing guide

BBC Learning English – Free resources for vocabulary, pronunciation, and grammar

Foreign Languages

Duolingo – Great for beginners

LingQ and Pimsleur – For immersive language studying

HelloTalk / Tandem – Connect with local audio system for actual conversations

four. 🎓 Test Prep Materials

ACT Prep Black Book by means of Mike Barrett

Khan Academy’s free SAT prep – In partnership with College Board

GRE/GMAT

Manhattan Prep Series – Strong for both GRE and GMAT

Magoosh – Affordable, digital-first gaining knowledge of platform

Official ETS GRE Guide – Direct from the check makers

Medical (MCAT, USMLE)

Kaplan Series / Princeton Review – Comprehensive applications

Anki Decks (like MilesDown for MCAT) – Top-rated for memorization

SketchyMedical – Visual mnemonics for microbiology and pharmacology

5. 🧘 Mental Health and Study Techniques

Wellness Apps

Headspace / Calm – Meditation and mindfulness apps to enhance attention

Forest – Encourages you to stay off your cellphone while you look at

Study Bunny – A cute gamified productivity app

Study Methods

Pomodoro Technique – 25 minutes paintings, 5-minute smash

Feynman Technique – Teach the idea in easy phrases to yourself

Active Recall + Spaced Repetition – Proven satisfactory for lengthy-time period retention

6. 🖥️ Digital Platforms and Online Learning

Coursera – Offers publications from top universities in really all fields

EdX – Similar to Coursera; first rate for incomes certificate

Udemy – Huge library of affordable ability-primarily based guides

YouTube Channels – CrashCourse, Veritasium, CGP Grey, Kurzgesagt, and extra

7. 📅 Organizing Your Studies

Planning Tools

Google Calendar – For scheduling classes, study classes, and reminders

Trello or Todoist – For handling responsibilities and assignments

[transthatmasc]

Day 5: Portrait

Cas gets his phone stuck in portrait mode and asks Dean for help, leading Dean to see the photo he was trying to look at.

on AO3 or below the cut

“My phone won’t turn sideways.”

Dean raised his eyes from the book he had been staring at for almost an hour now.

“What?” Dean raised his eyebrows at the grumpy angel standing over him.

“Dean, my phone won’t turn sideways.” Cas repeated, glaring at Dean, clearly already frustrated since he had resorted to asking for help.

Dean, partly due to a lack of understanding still, partly in hopes of being a little shit, slowly took the phone from Cas’s hand, turning it to the side so that it now lay horizontal in Cas’s palm.

Cas squinted harder, glaring at Dean like he was considering lethal force. “No, Dean. The screen. The picture on the screen won’t spin so it can be bigger and fill up the screen.”

Dean began to laugh heartily, “Cas, is your phone stuck in portrait mode? Let me see it.”

Shoulders still shaking with laughter, he took the phone from Cas’s hand once more. Turning it on and typing in Cas’s passcode, Dean quickly opened up settings to search for orientation lock. Less than thirty seconds later, Dean had resolved the problem and was about to hand the phone back to Cas when he thought to ask, “Wait, what were you trying to look at?”

Cas reached for his phone without answering, only for it to be snatched away as Dean pulled his hand back. “Nuh uh mister, if you have a tech problem, you gotta show it to the tech solution.”

Dean wiggled his eyebrows and bit his lip in an obnoxious attempt at sexiness. Cas flushed, though clearly not in response to Dean’s stupid antics. “I was trying to look at a picture… it’s quite old, so it’s too grainy when I zoom in so I wanted to see it just a little bigger.”

Dean’s face slipped into curious confusion before he returned his eyes to the phone. Opening up the running apps, he swiped back to photos and found a picture he had not seen in a very long time. It was from the night he took Cas to the strip bar when he thought that his conversation with Raphael might mean certain depth. Dean had taken a quick photo of Cas from across the table while they were waiting for their drinks, partially out of fear that it would be the last time he saw him, and partially because the look on his face had just been so priceless. Dean couldn’t remember sending it to Cas, but angels had their ways.

When Dean thought to look back up at Cas again, wrenching himself from his memories, he found Cas looking sheepish with a blush still lingering on his cheeks. “Didn’t I take this photo?” Was all Dean could get out, though he didn’t think it was what he really wanted to ask.

“Yes,” Cas answered slowly, “it was my last night on earth.”

Dean waited for Cas to continue, but when he didn’t, “Why do you like it so much?” Dean didn’t want it to come out harshly, but he thought it did anyway so he kept going. “I mean, I like it cause I had a great time that night, but I don’t remember you particularly enjoying yourself…”

Cas smiled fondly, seemingly able to see the humor of the situation, even if only in hindsight. “I…” He paused, face contorted as he tried to phrase his thoughts appropriately. “I like seeing myself the way you see me. At the time, I had not yet developed a strong connection to this physical form. I have become more fond of it since then, and being human helped ground me in this shape, but still when I think of myself, it is something more akin to my true form. But I like the reminder that, even then, this is what I looked like to you and this is what you think of when you think of me.”

Cas finished his explanation with a resigned smile, having just laid bare his heart, and waited patiently for Dean’s thoughts to catch up.

After a moment, Dean began, “That’s… That’s not what I think of when I think of you.”

Cas’s face dropped and he quickly started to apologize, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to assume that you—“

“No no no, that’s not— you’re more than that.” Dean stopped for a moment and licked his lips hesitantly before resolving himself. “When I think about you that’s the face I see, yeah. And the trench coat and suit. But you’re… I can feel your energy, Cas. You’re bigger than that. I can’t see it, but I can feel you in the whole room. Sometimes I can almost swear I bump into your wings when I walk past you. It’s… your true form is there, I can sense it, even if I can’t see it. But mostly when I think about you, it’s not even what you look like at all. Like, yeah, your face is good and your hair and……. Yeah, but you’re just a cool guy to be around. I think a lot more about how funny you are and what a pain in my ass you are and how kind you are and how much I care about you….” Dean trailed off, blushing as he realized how much further he had gone than he meant to.

Cas smiled broadly, “I see… thank you, Dean.”

Dean chuckled awkwardly, “Yeah bud, don’t worry about it. I wish I could take a picture that had all of you in it to show you what I see.”

“It’s okay Dean, I often wish that I could show you exactly what I see when I look at you. Your soul is beautiful, even if you can’t see it.”

With that, Cas turned to leave, tucking his phone back into the pocket of his trench coat, guiding himself out of the room as Dean gripped the back of the chair next to him and tried not to let his eyes get misty. He wondered how he could be so lucky as to have someone who found him beautiful.

[mydarlinginej]

read my full review of the launch date by annabelle slator here.

What if the secret to finding true love on a dating app was meeting them IRL first?

In this witty and fun rom-com debut from Annabelle Slator, rival coworkers become reluctant daters after they’re forced to work together on a brand-new dating app in hopes of winning a promotion—perfect for fans of Sally Thorne’s The Hating Game.

Grace Hastings’s dream job at the popular “true love” dating app, Fate, has turned into a nightmare. Her boss is a leech, her career is stagnating, and her fiancé has just brutally dumped her. Her hope for finding her own love story is waning, and she feels like a fraud for promoting a concept she no longer believes in. When the company’s CEO offers her an opportunity to earn a big promotion, she resolves to fight her imposter syndrome to show she deserves a seat at the table.

The opportunity? To launch a brand-new app focusing on IRL dating and genuine connection.

The problem? She must develop and test-drive a series of “first dates” with the other person gunning for the job: notorious socialite playboy and Grace’s biggest work rival, Eric Bancroft.

During their disastrous hikes, dangerous cooking classes, and steamy yoga sessions, they begin to realize their stark differences may just be surface level and Eric might just be the perfect person to challenge Grace’s perceptions of love, dating culture, and self-worth.

my review:

Honestly I was hesitant to read this one if only because the romances that I’ve read with somewhat similar premises (workplace rivals-to-lovers) did not end well for me…But thankfully that was not the case here! The Launch Date was a refreshing and bright workplace romance with off-the-charts chemistry and tension that’ll have you begging for more.

Grace Hastings finds herself in an impossible situation; she’s still not back in the dating scene after breaking up with her long-term boyfriend, her boss expects her to drop everything at her command, and now she’s found out she’ll have to compete for the promotion of her dreams. The only issue? Eric Bancroft, her work rival who brutally turned her down a year ago, is the other person up for the position. They’re going to have to get over their differences as they work together to test-drive dates for the new app one of them will be in charge of…and maybe finally give into the tension that’s between them.

Again, I didn’t have super high expectations for this book because the other workplace romances that I’ve read tend to be super trope-y and are clearly geared toward a certain audience with the references. The Launch Date certainly made its way past my prejudices and thank god for that honestly. I had so much fun with this book and can’t wait to reread it! I’m very excited to read more from this author as well.

read my full review here:

[laurabwrites]

State of the Ideas List

I'm a lists person. I've got lists of recipes to try, 1 in the to-do app & one in a spreadsheet. I've got lists of books to read, besides the piles on my bedside table. So of course I have lists of ideas to write

One list for ideas I plan to do & one for ideas that aren't currently 'active'. Since the to-do app is where I store all my lists & the app is on my phone, I always have it.

Might be why the list has grown to 91 entries.

It started the year at 89. Then neurons collided while doing laundry & I had another Star Wars fic idea in my niche: Old Ben Kenobi time travels & becomes a ghost that only Obi-Wan Kenobi can see (initially). Obi-Wan being mentored his entire live by his 'imaginary friend'. AKA himself.

It went to the end of the 28 idea long fanfic ideas subsection. Of course I have subsections. I organize things for a living, I have categories in my lists:

Fanfic (28)

Writing Prompts (41)

Length Uncertain (10)

Children's (4)

Flash Fic / Short Stories (5)

Novelettes & Novellas (0)

Novels (3)

2nd new idea popped into my head while reading an advice essay on writing short fiction that sells. The usual advice of not starting the story by looking in the mirror to intro the character made an opening line pop into my head. It made Partner grimace, so onto the list it went

I have 3 fanfic WIPs drafted, so hopefully those will come OFF the list soon. One needs the ending reworked, one is starting going through the writing group on Thursday, & the last I finished drafting today. Soon, hopefully.

The rest of the changes to the list since New Years have been rearranging ideas, grouping some together for world building or plot purposes under my pulp mystery noir idea: the detective is the spokescrow of the murder The world building in my head is a #biopunk / #solarpunk future with genetically engineered humans, uplifted corvids, networked minds, and bio-grown AIs.

It's all vibes right now & I really should start putting this down on paper. But it's not the idea in "development" right now.

I think my process is weird, and I'm the one who came up with it...

[stanislawkowalski]

LIS: INFO

Kaito Watanabe navigates his complex life as both a corrupt police officer and an underworld kingpin with a remarkable sense of resilience and ingenuity, despite being completely deaf. His world, rich with the buzz of illicit deals and the hum of official duties, is one he moves through with a calculated grace. Here’s a glimpse into his daily routine:

Early Morning in the City’s Shadows

Kaito’s day begins in a small, minimalistic apartment on the edge of the city's criminal underbelly. The apartment is meticulously organised, reflecting his need for control in a life where chaos is a constant. As sunlight filters through the blinds, Kaito starts his day with a routine that feels almost ritualistic. He uses a vibrating alarm clock to wake up, feeling the soft buzz against his pillow before he opens his eyes.

He shuffles to the kitchen, where he prepares his coffee with precise, practiced movements. The morning silence is a comfort; it allows him to mentally map out the day ahead. He reviews his to-do list on a tablet, its screen providing clear, concise text and visual reminders. Each item is meticulously checked, from coordinating shady deals to attending obligatory police meetings.

At the Police Station

Kaito's presence at the police station is a carefully orchestrated performance. His colleagues are accustomed to his deafness, a fact he has managed to keep from becoming a liability. Instead, it becomes part of his persona—an enigma that adds to his mystique.

During meetings, Kaito relies heavily on written notes and text-to-speech apps to stay informed. He keeps his eyes fixed on the lips of his colleagues, using their facial expressions and gestures to gauge the mood of the conversation. He’s adept at reading body language and picking up on subtle cues that others might miss.

His assistants, a blend of loyal officers and discreet informants, are crucial to his operations. They communicate with him through short, direct messages and signals. Kaito's office is equipped with a top-of-the-line visual alert system, ensuring he’s always up-to-date on any urgent matters. Vibrating notifications and flashing lights signal any important events or updates, allowing him to respond promptly.

Navigating the Underworld

As an underworld kingpin, Kaito’s interactions are conducted with a strategic mix of intimidation and charm. In clandestine meetings, he uses a combination of written messages and hand signals to communicate with his associates. His ability to convey complex instructions through gestures and brief notes has earned him a reputation for being both efficient and mysterious.

He visits his various enterprises—black market operations, illicit clubs, and underground gambling dens—with a practiced ease. Surveillance systems and coded messages keep him informed of real-time developments. His subordinates are trained to ensure that every piece of information is relayed to him accurately, often using a system of signals and encrypted texts.

Kaito's keen sense of observation compensates for his lack of hearing. He pays close attention to the nuances of his surroundings: the shuffling of feet, the rustling of paper, and even the vibrations of a phone against a table. This acute awareness allows him to detect subtle shifts in the environment that might indicate trouble or opportunity.

Evening Reflections

As the day winds down, Kaito returns to his apartment. The evening is a time for reflection and planning. He reviews the day's events on his tablet, analysing reports and communications with a critical eye. His personal assistant, a highly efficient AI program, helps summarise and prioritise the information, ensuring that nothing slips through the cracks.

Before bed, Kaito enjoys a moment of solitude, often immersed in a book or reviewing intelligence reports. The quiet of his apartment is his sanctuary, a place where he can unwind and prepare for the next day’s challenges. Despite the duality of his life—operating in the shadows while maintaining a facade of legitimacy—he finds solace in his routines and the order he meticulously maintains.

Kaito Watanabe’s ability to excel in his multifaceted roles, despite his deafness, underscores his adaptability and sharp intellect. His methods may seem unconventional, but they are a testament to his skill in turning potential disadvantages into unique strengths.